The Big Sleep (Duology)

Chapter Twenty-Three - Fleeing the Orange Guard

Billy's tendency toward goofiness turned out to not be an accurate prelude to his particular variety of guardianship. No matter the hour, he was always by my side, watching with his deep, brown eyes. It might be flattering if it wasn't so disturbing.

At first, I tried to ignore the context, to force myself to forget the real reason my new friend persisted in staying near. Pretending that we were just two friends, hanging out, I talked about mundane things from the real world, trying to stimulate conversation. He stared ahead, pointedly ignoring me. I cracked salacious jokes, hoping he would laugh. He continued to ignore me.

If it wasn't already difficult enough to pretend that I wasn't under guard, it grew more so when I actually tried to do anything.

I went to practice in the stadium, hoping Billy had a new skill under development. Whether he did or not, I never found out. He only stood—straight-backed and feet apart, with his hands bent behind his back—and stared away from me.

Finally, I sought the refuge of distraction in Kayle's room. She and Beth sat on her bed, talking in low voices with their heads together. They stopped talking and snapped their heads toward the door as I arrived, Billy in tow.

Kayle patted the bed, inviting me to join them. I sat down, while Billy took up his sentry position at the door and stared at the wall in front of him. Beth raised an eyebrow at him.

"He's very loyal to our dad," I said, looking at Billy.

"Is he just going to stand there the whole time?" Beth asked.

"Yep," I said. "He also won't talk or laugh or even look at you."

"Sounds like an improvement," Kayle said.

Billy raised an eyebrow.

"Wow," I said, laughing. "That's the biggest reaction he's had to anything all day."

Kayle crawled off the bed and walked over to Billy. She bent down to bring her face level with his, then puffed up her chest and let out a long, echoing burp, right in Billy's face. Billy took a step back, out of the smelly air, and made a distinctly unimpressed face. Kayle looked over at me and grinned.

"I have a plan," she said, stepping away from Billy. "Let's go to the hospital."

Beth and I followed Kayle the short distance to the hospital, and Billy followed me. Our procession containing three Dreamwalkers and a Dreamcaller drew a lot of attention from the city residents, who probably assumed we were off on some mission to save their lives.

Without a word or explanation, Kayle led us through the hospital's winding halls and into an empty patient's room. Billy trailed us all the way.

"What are we doing?" Beth finally asked when Kayle shut the room's door behind Billy.

I held up a hand. "Just wait," I said.

Our years of friendship had taught me to always trust Kayle when she had a plan. More than once, she had swiped the contents of a cashier's till right under their nose as they made eye contact with her. She rarely even needed a distraction, her hands were so swift and clever.

She picked a metal scalpel up from a surgical tray and stepped up to the ventilation grate, which sat low on the wall. Bending over, she fit the sharp end of the scalpel into one of the screws, then turned the handle until the screw popped out, rattling and clanging as it fell to the floor. She repeated the process three more times, then removed the grate itself.

"Alright," she said, smiling at Billy. "Let's all be small."

Her face morphed. First, her nose scrunched up so small that it nearly disappeared, then she squinted until her eyes were beady, black dots. Her mouth followed, zipping up toward her tiny nose. Finally, white fur sprouted from every pore as her face and body sprang toward the ground, snapping into the shape of a small mouse.

Beth nodded at me, then closed her eyes as I did the same. Picturing a little, yellow lionhead rabbit on the ground, I felt my limbs pulling up into my body. I opened my eyes and I was on the floor, bright yellow fur shining in the peripherals of my vision.

"No!' Billy yelled. It was a deafening sound to my now-tiny ears.

I leaped toward the open grate, just behind Kayle the mouse and Beth, who had taken the form of a chubby guinea pig. Our tiny legs moved blessedly fast and we were deep in the grate before Billy could lunge for us. His hand grasped in the metal tunnel behind us, sending a horrible clanging sound echoing over us.

As I scurried down the tunnel, following Kayle, who seemed to have a planned path in mind—apparently she'd been here before—I wondered why Beth and Kayle had been sitting together in the first place. Kayle had been my best friend for years, but she and Beth had never really clicked. In fact, Beth often seemed to disapprove of Kayle's influence in my life.

A roaring whoosh of air hitting me in the face interrupted my thoughts. We turned a corner and a giant fan greeted us, its metal blades spinning so fast that I could hardly tell one from the next. I felt my mane whipping in the wind.

Kayle the mouse slowly trudged her way down the tunnel toward the fan, her little body fighting against the powerful wind. Beth and I ducked behind the tunnel's wall, hiding from the metal horror and praying that Kayle knew what she was doing.

With her tiny mouse paws, Kayle pulled herself into a sort of standing position next to the fan, then climbed on top of its frame and disappeared into a small opening there. I felt nervous. Were we supposed to follow her? Luckily, she appeared a moment later, hauling a long, metal rod in her teeth. A screw. She dropped it and it rolled to the edge of the fan's frame. With a nudge of Kayle the mouse's little snout, the screw fell with a loud clang to the tunnel floor.

As Kayle started to climb back down the fan, a clicking sound surrounded us, joined a second later by a loud whir. The fan slowed, stopped, then started to spin the other way.

Kayle squeaked and leaped from the top of the fan, landing hard on the tunnel floor. The fan spun faster and Kayle slipped toward it, tiny paws scratching wildly for a handhold. The screw rolled across the ground, toward the fan. Gripping a ridge in the floor made by a connection in the tunnel, Kayle squeaked again. She looked over her shoulder toward the fan. Her body rose, as if she were flying.

She's getting sucked out, I realized. I poked my head out further from behind the wall and my suspicions were confirmed. Were it not for my substantial weight (compared to a mouse) as a lionhead bunny, I would have been sucked right down the tunnel and chopped up by the fan. I pulled my head back and looked over at Beth, who was also peeking out, the fur on her face waving toward the fan.

She glanced at me, then Kayle, and stepped out into the tunnel. She squinted for a second, as if expecting to be pulled down the tunnel by the wind, but she didn't move. With small, heavy steps, she made her way toward Kayle.

Then she walked right past her to the screw, which was shaking in the force of the fan's wind. She picked the screw up in her mouth, then turned to the side, trying to line it up with a gap in the blades. She took a step toward the fan. The blades screamed as their metal skimmed the metal of the screw.

The wind stopped. Kayle flopped to the tunnel floor.  

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