The Dream
Chapter 2
The raid lasts forever—or at least that’s what it feels like.
I stay with Ian in the nurse’s office as he regains consciousness. After catching him up to speed, I find myself staring at the door. There’s no chance my reoccurring dream could be prophetic… right?
The others in the room remain quiet as we wait for the all-clear. The whole high school is in lock-down and the shields reached one-hundred percent a few minutes ago. We’re as safe as we can be, unless someone evaded our troops.
Ian keeps his voice quiet so the nurse doesn’t overhear us. “You aren’t wanting to go back out there, are you?”
“No,” I respond immediately, not telling the full truth. “Well, no. I don’t want to get involved in all that. I want to find those kids that snuck out of the ship.”
“What kids?” Ian asks, rubbing his neck.
“There was a guy and a girl. They had helmets on and slipped through the enemy lines undetected. I’m not sure if anyone else saw them. What if they’re trying to take us out from the inside?”
“I think you’re being paranoid.”
I frown, glaring at him. “Really?”
He shrugs. “We’re fourteen. What are we going to do, throw our books at them until they surrender? We haven’t been taught about Imbra’s rankings. For all we know, people our age could be deadlier weapons than we are. Or what we’re supposed to be.”
I shrug at his halfhearted joke, exhaling in defeat. Something about this, about the both of them vanishing… Could this have been a ploy to get them on our planet?
“Maybe I am being paranoid, but it’s for good reason.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants as I glance around the room to make sure no one’s eavesdropping. “The person I was fighting in that dream… that was him.”
Ian blinks. “You’re joking.”
“Wish I was,” I sigh as the nurse comes over to tell Ian to switch to a seat so the next student can use the bed. We move to a corner and drop the subject, but my mind keeps returning to it, even if it does sound absurd.
“Students may return to their daily schedule.”
There’s a colossal release of tension as Mrs. Cole announces everything is safe. Ian and I share a glance as we stand, following the crowd out into the halls. The kids that need medical attention stay behind with the overworked nurse.
We separate, not another word about my dreams passing between us as I make my way to the changing rooms. The freshman girls are buzzing about, some paler than normal, hands trembling. It’s the seniors that don’t seem rattled at all.
One of them eyes me curiously as I cram my uniform in my locker. “You’re not freaking out, Freshie?”
“Nope,” I admit. “The shields are up and everything’s taken care of for now. There’s no reason to freak out because it’s in the past. We’ve gotta keep moving.”
The senior grunts in approval as she holds a hand out. “Name’s Isis. I’m a trained sniper. It’s nice to see a Freshie that isn’t shaken by war.”
I shake her hand. “Alice. And I am. I’m just proficient at coping.”
“Even better,” she says as she pats me on the shoulder and motions to the door to the gym.
Eyes follow me as I tail Isis, unintelligible whispers reaching my ears. Gossip is an excellent distraction when nerves are fried. I can only imagine what they might be saying about me.
When all the girls are finally present, our teacher blows her whistle.
“The attack earlier cut our time in half. We took the raiders captive and learned they strayed from their captain’s command. After something like this, we normally wouldn’t hold workouts outside, but the shields will be up for the next few hours. There’s safety in numbers, so we’re merging with the boys this morning. Please get into groups of five and don’t stray from the path. I need at least one senior per group. Seniors, you know the drill.”
“Freshie, over here,” I hear Isis call. A gust of wind could knock over the girls she’s gathered for her group. I’d like to think I don’t fit into that same category, but because of the past two weeks, I definitely feel like I do.
With Isis in the front, we lead the rest of the class down the path, the boys bringing up the rear. I spin to jog backwards, looking for Ian, but don’t see him. There are too many bobbing ponytails in the way.
Isis slows to jog next to me. “Hey, eyes forward or you’ll trip.”
I grimace, but do as I’m told, squinting in the morning light. The sun is peeking over the horizon, the day heating quickly. We haven’t run a mile before I’m drenched in sweat.
Isis stops and pulls us to the side for pushups and sit-ups, other groups breaking off to do so as well. Between sets, I notice on Ian a few groups over. You wouldn’t think he could handle all this exercise with how skinny he is, but he’s bulking up fast. It’s a wonder that he’s at the bottom of the class with me, a girl who has athletic-induced asthma.
“Keep up, Freshie,” Isis encourages with authority as I grit my teeth, trying to wrangle my breathing. One time, Mr. Benson, the boys’ coach, had, and I quote, ‘caught me slacking off’ because I couldn’t breathe, and he chastised me for being out of shape.
As I stand to stretch, I catch movement in the foliage, followed by the glinting of black metal.
Their helmets.
My feet act before my brain does, and I race into the greenery. Shouts from both Isis and Ian echo through the woods, but I block them out as I draw nearer to the intruder. He’s fast, but I know these trees.
Slam!
I collide with him, the both of us tumbling to the ground. I press my knee to his throat and lift my fist, his metal headgear hot against my skin. “Who are you, and why are you here?”
He twists suddenly, glints from the sun blinding me as he shoves me off and finds his feet.
With labored breathing, we glare at one another, my muscles quivering as I muster the energy to stand.
“You’re after it, too, aren’t you?” he asks as he retracts his helmet.
“After what?”
“The Bijek. The gem in the prophetic dreams.” As my blood runs cold, he quirks a grin. “I’ve seen you in them, so I know you have them too. That’s how the prophecy goes.”
Impossible.
“Alice!”
Ian’s voice returns me to reality as the guy presses the button for his helmet.
“Freshie!”
Isis.
The guy lifts his hand in a mock salute before sprinting in the opposite direction. Telling myself I can’t lose him, I follow, but my body refuses to go any further. I can’t breathe. For the second time today, I swear I’m about to vomit, so I lean against a tree to let the swarming motes in my vision calm themselves.
Ian and Isis join me as I crumple onto the grass, gawking at the canopy of trees while attempting to catch my breath. I’m barely able to explain that someone from Planet Imbra escaped, but my confusing thoughts jumbles my speech. They reprimand me, and I block them out, more concerned with the Imbra boy that got away.
The boy who shares my dreams.
I stay with Ian in the nurse’s office as he regains consciousness. After catching him up to speed, I find myself staring at the door. There’s no chance my reoccurring dream could be prophetic… right?
The others in the room remain quiet as we wait for the all-clear. The whole high school is in lock-down and the shields reached one-hundred percent a few minutes ago. We’re as safe as we can be, unless someone evaded our troops.
Ian keeps his voice quiet so the nurse doesn’t overhear us. “You aren’t wanting to go back out there, are you?”
“No,” I respond immediately, not telling the full truth. “Well, no. I don’t want to get involved in all that. I want to find those kids that snuck out of the ship.”
“What kids?” Ian asks, rubbing his neck.
“There was a guy and a girl. They had helmets on and slipped through the enemy lines undetected. I’m not sure if anyone else saw them. What if they’re trying to take us out from the inside?”
“I think you’re being paranoid.”
I frown, glaring at him. “Really?”
He shrugs. “We’re fourteen. What are we going to do, throw our books at them until they surrender? We haven’t been taught about Imbra’s rankings. For all we know, people our age could be deadlier weapons than we are. Or what we’re supposed to be.”
I shrug at his halfhearted joke, exhaling in defeat. Something about this, about the both of them vanishing… Could this have been a ploy to get them on our planet?
“Maybe I am being paranoid, but it’s for good reason.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants as I glance around the room to make sure no one’s eavesdropping. “The person I was fighting in that dream… that was him.”
Ian blinks. “You’re joking.”
“Wish I was,” I sigh as the nurse comes over to tell Ian to switch to a seat so the next student can use the bed. We move to a corner and drop the subject, but my mind keeps returning to it, even if it does sound absurd.
“Students may return to their daily schedule.”
There’s a colossal release of tension as Mrs. Cole announces everything is safe. Ian and I share a glance as we stand, following the crowd out into the halls. The kids that need medical attention stay behind with the overworked nurse.
We separate, not another word about my dreams passing between us as I make my way to the changing rooms. The freshman girls are buzzing about, some paler than normal, hands trembling. It’s the seniors that don’t seem rattled at all.
One of them eyes me curiously as I cram my uniform in my locker. “You’re not freaking out, Freshie?”
“Nope,” I admit. “The shields are up and everything’s taken care of for now. There’s no reason to freak out because it’s in the past. We’ve gotta keep moving.”
The senior grunts in approval as she holds a hand out. “Name’s Isis. I’m a trained sniper. It’s nice to see a Freshie that isn’t shaken by war.”
I shake her hand. “Alice. And I am. I’m just proficient at coping.”
“Even better,” she says as she pats me on the shoulder and motions to the door to the gym.
Eyes follow me as I tail Isis, unintelligible whispers reaching my ears. Gossip is an excellent distraction when nerves are fried. I can only imagine what they might be saying about me.
When all the girls are finally present, our teacher blows her whistle.
“The attack earlier cut our time in half. We took the raiders captive and learned they strayed from their captain’s command. After something like this, we normally wouldn’t hold workouts outside, but the shields will be up for the next few hours. There’s safety in numbers, so we’re merging with the boys this morning. Please get into groups of five and don’t stray from the path. I need at least one senior per group. Seniors, you know the drill.”
“Freshie, over here,” I hear Isis call. A gust of wind could knock over the girls she’s gathered for her group. I’d like to think I don’t fit into that same category, but because of the past two weeks, I definitely feel like I do.
With Isis in the front, we lead the rest of the class down the path, the boys bringing up the rear. I spin to jog backwards, looking for Ian, but don’t see him. There are too many bobbing ponytails in the way.
Isis slows to jog next to me. “Hey, eyes forward or you’ll trip.”
I grimace, but do as I’m told, squinting in the morning light. The sun is peeking over the horizon, the day heating quickly. We haven’t run a mile before I’m drenched in sweat.
Isis stops and pulls us to the side for pushups and sit-ups, other groups breaking off to do so as well. Between sets, I notice on Ian a few groups over. You wouldn’t think he could handle all this exercise with how skinny he is, but he’s bulking up fast. It’s a wonder that he’s at the bottom of the class with me, a girl who has athletic-induced asthma.
“Keep up, Freshie,” Isis encourages with authority as I grit my teeth, trying to wrangle my breathing. One time, Mr. Benson, the boys’ coach, had, and I quote, ‘caught me slacking off’ because I couldn’t breathe, and he chastised me for being out of shape.
As I stand to stretch, I catch movement in the foliage, followed by the glinting of black metal.
Their helmets.
My feet act before my brain does, and I race into the greenery. Shouts from both Isis and Ian echo through the woods, but I block them out as I draw nearer to the intruder. He’s fast, but I know these trees.
Slam!
I collide with him, the both of us tumbling to the ground. I press my knee to his throat and lift my fist, his metal headgear hot against my skin. “Who are you, and why are you here?”
He twists suddenly, glints from the sun blinding me as he shoves me off and finds his feet.
With labored breathing, we glare at one another, my muscles quivering as I muster the energy to stand.
“You’re after it, too, aren’t you?” he asks as he retracts his helmet.
“After what?”
“The Bijek. The gem in the prophetic dreams.” As my blood runs cold, he quirks a grin. “I’ve seen you in them, so I know you have them too. That’s how the prophecy goes.”
Impossible.
“Alice!”
Ian’s voice returns me to reality as the guy presses the button for his helmet.
“Freshie!”
Isis.
The guy lifts his hand in a mock salute before sprinting in the opposite direction. Telling myself I can’t lose him, I follow, but my body refuses to go any further. I can’t breathe. For the second time today, I swear I’m about to vomit, so I lean against a tree to let the swarming motes in my vision calm themselves.
Ian and Isis join me as I crumple onto the grass, gawking at the canopy of trees while attempting to catch my breath. I’m barely able to explain that someone from Planet Imbra escaped, but my confusing thoughts jumbles my speech. They reprimand me, and I block them out, more concerned with the Imbra boy that got away.
The boy who shares my dreams.
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