Dreamwalkers: The Awakening

CHAPTER 13

After ending the call with my dad, the shock of his revelations settles in. Overwhelmed, we can't do much more than stare at the floor. "Did you know any of that already?" I ask.

Zoë shakes her head.

"I'm exhausted," she declares after a contemplative silence. "Let's get some rest. We can deal with the journals tomorrow."

Silently agreeing, I stand up to turn off the lights. Making my way around the room, I do another check of the door and window to make sure every possible lock is doing its job. By the time I return to bed, Zoë's jeans are in a pile on the floor and she's curled up under the covers.

A few minutes later her breathing changes, telling me she's fallen asleep.

I try to relax and get comfortable but my frayed nerves keep me awake. My mind jumps back and forth from topic to topic, all things that cause me stress coming to the forefront.

This ridiculous idea to report us missing that our parents have come up with upsets me the most. Will there be search parties combing wooded areas and empty fields looking for clues of our whereabouts? Imagining my mom's reaction has me next to tears and feeling incredibly guilty—and Jonah. I forgot about Jonah. This isn't something I want to do to them, this isn't a pain I wanted them to know.

With nothing to base my impression on, I contemplate what the colony will be like, how many people will be there and how they'll keep us alive. I've always pictured the colony as a rogue establishment, somewhere people lived rebelliously off the grid. Now that I know it's surrounded by security, the portrait in my mind must adjust.

And then, with the reliability I wish I could annihilate, my thoughts turn to the one topic I've long tried to push deep down into the abyss of my memory, hoping it'll just disappear: Charlie.

My memories of him are often strung together in little fragments like a highlight reel. I relive pieces of the first date we went on—how nervous he was when he slid his hand into mine or leaned in to kiss me. The nights we spent at bonfires, school dances, holding hands in movie theaters. I can practically feel the calluses on his palm rubbing against my cheek, exactly where I felt them the first time he told me he loved me—and the last time.

A rainstorm sneaks in through the darkness of night, assaulting the window of our hotel room, sending me back in time to the day he told me he couldn't be with me anymore.

My eyes well with tears and I turn away from Zoë, even though she's asleep. Her strength is something I can't match. The last thing I want her to do is discover I'm still an emotional mess when she needs me on top of my game. Clutching a pillow, I bury my sobs in it.

Somewhere in the middle of my pity party, I drift off to sleep.

The sensation that I'm trapped inside myself is overwhelming.

"Emma?"

I turn around, hoping to see Zoë, but instead I'm greeted by unending darkness. "Zoë?"

"I can't figure out how to get out of here. Walk toward my voice. Maybe if we link something will happen."

After taking just a few steps we collide. I fumble in the dark to locate her hand, and when I do, everything changes. We move at warp speed through a tunnel of alternating light and darkness. Impressions of time, long-ago spoken words, remembrances of love and loss swirl around us like a tornado. They move so quickly that absorbing anything more than a flash is impossible. "What's happening?" I ask, feeling nauseous from the sensory overload.

"I don't know. Just don't let go of me."

In the blink of an eye, everything settles into place.