And yet, her own subconscious was practically screaming out to her that this was not a good idea. You should wait for your brother to get back, the intense voice said to her.
Ignoring the inner voices, Isabel placed her right index finger on the photo of Kyle, concentrating on her subject. Closing her eyes, she willed herself into her friend's dreams. Her body relaxed as she could feel her mind leaving on its journey. Slumping down into the bed, the yearbook slipped out of her hands and fell onto the floor.
9
Isabel stood alone in the desert. She didn't recognize the location, but that was not odd, since the miles and miles of dirt surrounding Roswell had a tendency to look the same. Immediately, she wondered if this patch of wasteland was a reflection of a real place from Kyle's past or if it was entirely imagined. Then, she naturally questioned what it could possibly mean. Could be loneliness, she thought, or death. Possibly emptiness or loss or a hundred other things. Maybe 111 just wait to consult the dream analysis book when I wake up.
Looking over the flat, barren land, she could see for miles, and it was obvious that she was entirely alone. This was strange because, being Kyle's dream, she had expected to see him as soon as she had popped into it. Usually when she dreamwalked, the dreamer was the first person she would see. At the very least, she expected him to arrive shortly after she did. Being alone in the middle of the desert with nowhere to go, all she could do was wait.
«Kyle!» she called out after some time had passed, but received no answer. What is going on?
A screech from above directed her attention to the sky. Looking up, Isabel saw what appeared to be a vulture circling ahead-or it could have been a buzzard; she was never really sure what the difference was between the two. One single, solitary bird of prey was waiting just like she was. Another screech came from its beak, letting out a sound that was both strange and familiar to Isabel. It did not make the noise of a bird, but, somehow, it sounded slightly like the high-pitched cry of a woman.
Uncomfortable standing beneath the circling predator, Isabel started walking in the direction she was facing, for lack of any better plan. From her past, limited studies of dreams, she tried again to remember if she had ever read anything that related to what she was seeing, but she was certainly no expert in the field. Instead, she took mental pictures of everything around her so she could look it up in her dream book in the morning. If she didn't find anything there, she was sure there were hundreds more books on the subject. Maybe Jesse won't mind part of our day together being spent in the library.
Even though it was only a dream, Isabel could feel the desert heat beginning to rise, but she never felt uncomfortable. No matter how much the heat increased, her skin did not feel like it was burning, and she never even broke a sweat. Out of habit more than anything, she took shelter in the shade of a rock formation. As soon as the sun was blocked and the cool darkness enveloped her, she found herself transported to the Roswell Police Station.
The place was bustling with deputies moving in every direction. It was far busier than she had ever remembered seeing it before, largely with faces of people she didn't
recognize, although one or two seemed vaguely familiar. She doubted there was a time in Roswell history that that many police had been on the force at the same time. It was just too crowded for their little town.
Turning a corner, she nearly ran right into Deputy Blackwood. She immediately recognized the Native American who had unintentionally led her and her friends to the Mesaliko reservation two years ago, where they had ultimately found the first real clues to their past. Since he was the first familiar image she had seen, Isabel followed the deputy, hoping he would lead her to Kyle.
«Deputy Blackwood?» she called after him.
«Wait right here," he replied without looking at her.
Isabel wondered if he had actually been speaking to her, since he hardly noticed that she was there. He was busy talking with another deputy behind the front desk and seemed to be ignoring her entirely. While she watched the two police officers carrying out their conversation, Isabel noticed that Deputy Blackwood looked considerably younger than he did the last time she had seen him. She wondered if that was some kind of clue, or if it was just that Kyle remembered the man differently in his dreams. Remember these are just images, she thought. Don't expect it all to be true to life.
Soon, Isabel grew tired of waiting. «Deputy Blackwood?»
He continued his conversation as if she wasn't there.
«Deputy Blackwood?» she tried again, but still received no answer. She wondered if he even saw her there in the first place. «Great.»
Feeling the need to move on, Isabel continued her search
for Kyle in the lobby of the police station. Unable to find her friend, she decided to broaden her search area. Being where she was, she naturally looked for a dream image of Sheriff Valenti as well, but she could not find him, either.
Making her way through the station, she did her best to stay out of the way of the many, many officers tending to their affairs. It did not seem to Isabel that they were in any rush or in an emergency. They all seemed to be going on about their daily business.
In Kyle's dream, the police station was much larger than it was in real life, with winding and twisting halls that simply did not exist. She knew this for a fact, since she was at the Roswell Police Station far more times than any girl her age should have been. Making her way to where she felt was the most logical place to go, Isabel walked a circuitous route to the sheriffs office.
Once she finally reached the office, she found the door closed. As she placed her hand upon the knob, she could hear from within the sounds of a man sobbing. Carefully turning the knob, Isabel pushed the door open and walked right into the Valenti living room.
The crying had stopped.
The room was empty.
Back in the place she had left a short time ago in reality, she found the house looked pretty much the same as when she had been there. There were some notable differences, however. For one, daylight now shone through the windows, making the place much brighter than it had been. Naturally, Kyle was no longer on the couch, where she had left him, although it was made up to look like a bed. Then, she remembered that for the last several months of the
school year, the couch had been Kyle's bed. His actual room had been taken over by someone else. A feeling of trepidation came over her as she realized this part of the dream was taking place in the not so distant past.
Again, Isabel checked around for Kyle, but he wasn't in the room. This is really odd, she thought. Where is Kyle?
Voices.
Coming from Kyle's bedroom.
The voices were familiar and they sounded very angry. Isabel knew exactly what was going on behind the closed door to Kyle's room, but she did not want to see it. At the same time, however, she was drawn to the room. Whether it was because of the dreamwalk or her own curiosity, Isabel could not be sure. But suddenly, the door was open, and she was standing at the threshold about to witness an event that she had her own nightmares about.
It was Alex. Her Alex. The Alex she had tried to ignore for so long, until it was too late. He was in pain, talking about Las Cruces and mindwarps. He could barely stand. His face was twisted in what Isabel could only imagine to be excruciating pain.
Tess was there too. Alex was leaning on her, holding on to her as if he did not have the power to stand on his own. She looked frightened and trapped. There wasn't a trace of the anger Isabel had expected to see, only fear. It had been so much easier to think that Tess had acted out of anger. It made hating her all the more effortless.