Dream Wakers: The Veiled Prophecy (Book One)

Chapter 7

Emmy looked around the strange room and tried to remember how she'd gotten there. The shelves that towered above were crammed with millions of things and she felt lost. A gruff voice drifted to her ears and she looked up. A fat, burly man stood in front of her. She could recognize malicious intent without trying. Her hands trembled, and her heart slammed in her chest. Bottles tipped and Emmy whipped around.

The same silhouette from the forest hid in the shadows of the shelves. Her stomach grew hot, and when she looked down, wisps of black hair fell against her clothing. The woman was so close she seemed to be a part of her. That was impossible. A sharp pinch constricted her ribs and she pulled away from the dream.

......

The stars were winking above her; wiser about the predicament she was putting herself in. Henry always told her they knew first. He'd learned astrology from the Native Americans when he was a young boy in Kentucky. She smiled, remembering him recount old Indian tales about the original four races of people and their ancient wisdom from the star people and Kachina. Emmy often wondered if he'd mixed in a bit of his own Irish history with it since the stories always revered the gift of fire in the head. She thought back to the dream. It wasn't the first time she'd seen that man or the woman with dark hair. Emmy couldn't be sure if she'd known them or only dreamt of them. Henry would have known what it meant. He always asked her about her dreams when she was little and offered explanations, even if they usually tended to stretch the imagination. He liked to make her laugh.

She could see the lights glaring from her motel room as she set out. Handfuls of people gathered and walked down the edge of the street as trucks cruised by. Henry would have loved to see the rodeo. He had raised her in a western saddle and showed her how to use his game with the horses.

"Now he's gone," Emmy sighed, distancing herself.

The low buzz of the event announcer relieved her from her failed attempt to forget her life and called focus to her surroundings.

"ID please," the man at the booth asked.

She handed him her driver's license with little enthusiasm.

"Okay, have fun," he said cheerfully, wrapping a neon yellow piece of paper around her wrist.

The stands rose gently above the main arena and the dirt had been carefully dragged. People sat waiting with excitement, and Emmy decided to see what was causing so much anticipation. She passed a portable bar, and determined to numb some of the heartache, she detoured to order a drink.

"What'll you have?"

"Just a beer," she smiled, recognizing the New Yorker from the diner. "You working the booth all night?"

"Only for another hour."

Taking it as an invitation, she leaned casually over the serving table.

"Well, maybe when you're done, you could come on up in those stands and find me."

He stared at her, sliding a plastic cup across the small space. Emmy's confidence waned. She could have sworn men were all the same. They loved attention from girls. He glanced over her shoulder, and she followed to see a string of people forming behind her. She stood with a stiff back and started towards the stands.

"I'm meeting friends later," he called after her, pity almost penetrating his hard exterior.

Emmy didn't turn, but held up her hand and waved in acknowledgement as she continued moving towards the bleachers. The fizz from the beer was soothing as it settled in her stomach. The condensed crowd gave her an edge and the loud noises seemed to jar her more than she had anticipated. She settled in between bodies, hoping to adjust.