‘Let’s back off!’ shouted Dom Magator. ‘If we go back through that settlement maybe we can outflank them — approach the portal from the other side!’
He locked his Acoustic Carbine back into its rack, and selected a squat black handgun from the weapons that were swinging from his belt. It was a Sonic Blinder, which used very low level sound-waves to increase the pressure of the optic fluid in its target’s eyeballs until they burst. For dream people, the blinding was permanent — at least until the dream was over, and they vanished into oblivion. Real people suffered nothing worse than temporary blurring of their eyesight, when they woke up.
Dom Magator fired at the nearest group of clowns, and they immediately spun around and dropped to their knees, clamping their hands over their eyes and wailing in distress. As they went down, Zebenjo’Yyx let off another storm of arrows, more than a hundred of them, and scores of clowns behind them fell into the grass.
Dom Magator took Xyrena’s hand and started to jog toward the settlement, his weapons and his equipment clanking and jingling with every step. Jekkalon and Jemexxa followed close behind, and Zebenjo’Yyx brought up the rear, turning around every few yards to fire off another volley of arrows.
As Dom Magator had expected the clowns stopped chasing after them directly, and instead turned toward the hilltop. They knew that the Night Warriors would have to return to the portal through which they had entered George Roussos’ dream, and they clearly thought that they could cut them off before they could get there. Dom Magator prayed that George Roussos would stay asleep long enough for them to circle around and reach the portal from the opposite side of the hill.
Just before the Night Warriors reached the settlement, he looked around and saw the clowns sweeping up the hillside, hundreds of them, a dark clamorous tide.
The settlement was a rundown collection of shacks and barns and what looked like workshops. Dim lamps were burning in some of the windows, and Dom Magator could hear hammering and sawing, people shouting to each other, and singing. The wind had died down and the thunder had cleared away, but it was still raining, a steady downpour that seemed to have been dreamed up by Brother Albrecht to make them feel hopeless and dejected.
They splashed through the puddles between the shacks and the workshops. A small boy of about nine years old was sitting on the porch of one of the shacks, wearing only a tattered brown shirt and britches, and brown boots without laces that were two sizes too big for him. He looked up at them as they approached, his short hair sticking up on the crown of his head, his eyes wide. His face was smudged with dirt as if he hadn’t washed in weeks.
Xyrena went up to him and hunkered down beside him, her golden cloak flapping in the mud.
‘Hi, honey. What’s your name?’
‘Michael.’
‘That’s a very fine name. What are you doing out here in the rain, Michael? You look so cold, and you’re soaked right through!’
‘I don’t have anyplace to go.’
‘Isn’t this your folks’ house?’
The boy shook his head. ‘I can’t find my folks.’
‘Don’t they live here?’
He shook his head again. ‘No. They’re awake.’
Dom Magator came up. ‘Hey, kid,’ he said. ‘Don’t I know you? I’ve met you before, haven’t I? You’re the boy they call Michael-Row-The-Boat-Ashore-Hallelujah. I didn’t recognize you with your face so dirty.’
‘Are you hungry, little boy?’ asked Xyrena. ‘You sure look hungry.’
‘Xyrena,’ said Dom Magator, ‘we really have to hit the bricks. If George Roussos wakes up we’re going to be trapped here just like little Michael.’
‘Can’t we take him with us? Look at him.’
Dom Magator took off his glove and scruffed Michael’s hair. ‘I wish we could. But we both know why we can’t, don’t we, Michael?’
‘I liked my other dream better,’ said Michael, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. ‘In my other dream they gave me Cheerios and milk and cookies and sometimes they gave me ice cream.
He blinked, and Dom Magator could see tears in his eyes. ‘In my other dream, my mom came to visit me. But now she doesn’t and I don’t think she knows where I am.’
‘Let’s just take him,’ urged Xyrena. ‘We can do that, can’t we?’
Dom Magator helped her to stand up and drew her aside. Jemexxa and Jekkalon went up to Michael and said, ‘How are you doing, buddy? Pretty darn miserable out here, on a night like this.’
‘I had a puppy but I don’t know where it’s gone,’ said Michael. ‘I think the Packers took it.’
‘The Packers? Who are they?’
Michael pointed to the nearest ramshackle workshop. ‘They’re in there. They’re always chopping. Chopping and sawing.’
Xyrena said to Dom Magator, ‘Why can’t we take him with us? It’s technically possible, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is,’ Dom Magator told her. ‘But in real life Michael has Mobius Syndrome. It’s a rare congenital birth defect. In real life, Michael can’t walk, or talk, or eat. He can’t even suck a bottle of formula. He spends most of his time asleep, and dreaming. I don’t know how he got himself into this dream. Maybe Brother Albrecht wanted to display him in his freak show, but then realized how serious his disability actually was. I guess there isn’t a whole lot of entertainment value in watching some poor kid just lying there, drooling.’
Jekkalon came over. ‘Are we going to take him with us or not? We can’t very well leave him here.’
Xyrena said, ‘We have to. Dom Magator will tell you why.’
Jekkalon frowned at Dom Magator. ‘We really can’t?’
‘No. I’m sorry. And we really have to get moving.’
‘Can’t we just find his puppy for him? He said that some people called the Packers took it. They’re in that workshop. We only have to ask them politely if they’ll give it back to him, and tell them that we’ll blow their heads off if they don’t.’
Dom Magator checked the instruments on his wrist. ‘OK. You can try. But you have thirty seconds flat.’
Jekkalon jogged across to the workshop, followed by Jemexxa and Zebenjo’Yyx. The workshop had a sagging roof and windows that were opaque with grime. Its guttering was crowded with clumps of moss so that the rainwater clattered noisily down the outside walls. For the first time, Dom Magator saw a faded sign over the door that said Roussos Meat Packers.
‘You see that?’ he said. ‘This has to be the reason why Brother Albrecht wanted George Roussos to share in this nightmare. He needed his expertise in meat-packing.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Xyrena. ‘You’re not telling me what I think you’re telling me?’
‘We should go,’ Dom Magator told them. ‘If those goddamn clowns reach our portal before us—’
But Jekkalon went up to the workshop door and tried the handle. Inside, they could see dazzling lights shining and they could distinctly hear chopping noises, but the door was locked.
‘Leave it!’ said Jemexxa. ‘Come on, Jekkalon, we need to get out of here like now!’
But Jekkalon said, ‘What was the point of us visiting this dream at all? We couldn’t kill the Grand Freak, we couldn’t catch Mago Verde, we couldn’t save our mom! The least we can do is save this poor kid’s puppy!’
With that, he kicked at the workshop door. It cracked, but stayed shut. He kicked it again, and again, and the third time it juddered open.
‘Jekkalon!’ said Dom Magator. ‘Forget it! We don’t have the time! It’s a puppy, for Christ’s sake!’