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I’m impressed by how
fast they evacuate the building. Not so impressed by how easily I break free
and lose them. My mother always told me that in panic situations, their first
priority is typically to get high ranking officials and important members of
the military to safety. Then whatever civilian populace the area contained.

In the case of no high
ranking officials or military, civilian safety became first priority. A low
ranking non-criminal like myself who was seconds away from being released? Not
a top priority. At least… I didn’t think I was until I turned another corner
and came face to face with a group of military police.

These guys I knew I
wouldn’t lose easily. La Muerta had other ideas, and by the end of the
encounter, most lay neutralized, but not dead, on the ground around us.

“We have to get to safety. This feels… off.” She said.

I had to agree.

Modern Day

I stand outside my mother’s room for at least a full minute
before pressing the button to open it. My father is sleeping beside her, naked
except for a pair of boxers. My mother is awake and writing in a new journal;
she’s still wearing the hospital gown which I suppose makes… you know I’m not
even going to finish that thought.

She glances up at me and smiles, pulling the blanket up to
my father’s chest, and scooting off the bed. Somehow, she keeps herself covered
even as she stands and walks over to me,

“He needs rest and I would like to get some more clothes on.
Come on.”

She leads me to the replica bedroom and grabs some clothes
from her dresser, “So… I take it you want to talk about your dreams?”

I nod, “If you have time.”

She steps behind the privacy screen so we can continue to
talk while she dresses, “Your brother and Uncle’s bodies were added to the pile
but mine wasn’t, right?”

It doesn’t bother me that she’s that familiar with my
dreams, but the way she speaks of seeing my loved ones dead around me in such a
matter of fact way does.

“Yes. Is the future or just my PTSD?” I ask.

“A bit of both. The PTSD has altered how some of your brain
is wired. Your visions going through that area are warped in more… how do I put
this… abstract ways.” My mother says.

“How do I fix them?” I ask.

She emerges fixing her shirt, “There might be a way but…
it’s a bit out there.”

******************

“Dream Diving?” I ask.

My uncle shrugs, “Think of it like lucid dreaming. The only
real difference is that I’ll be able to connect your dreams to the monitor
behind me so we can monitor your progress. And if things get bad, I can pull
you out.”

My mother is sitting beside me while Sombra is standing
across the room; she’s double checking my uncle’s settings. Angela is preparing
an injection of sleeping medication that will hopefully allow me to wake up if
I need to.

“Okay. We’re ready.” Sombra says.

My uncle stands and has me lie down on the examine bed, “Try
to get as comfortable as possible, okay?” he says.

My mother squeezes my hand, “We’ll be right here if you need
us.”

I nod, before my uncle places a device that covers my eyes
and fills my ears with white noise.

“Now,” my uncle says, “count back from ten in your head.”

Ten… Nine… eight…
seven… six…

The first explosion makes my eyes snap open; I’m in a
holding cell and the door is hanging on by a single hinge. Jesse enters and for
a brief moment my pounding heart calms, until I see the amount of blood he’s
covered in. As he takes another step into the room, I rise and catch him as he
falls, feeling warm blood seep into my clothes. I glance down; I’m wearing a
simple white dress, something I would never wear normally, let alone into a war
zone. I turn Jesse over and a blackened skull greets me. Blood has turned to
ashes and the red is now gray soot.

Can you hear me?

My uncle?

“Michael? Where…?”

You’re safe. We’re in
my lab remember?

I blink; That’s right:
it’s a dream. A lucid dream.

I lower my gaze to Jesse’s corpse,

“Is this how he dies?” I whisper.

The skull splits down the center and a bullet drops to and rolls
across the floor. I set the body down carefully, before stepping over to where
the bullet has fallen. When I reach it, I see it has Jesse’s name carved
carefully into the side. Visions hit me; the surrounding area warps and tears
apart rapidly as another setting comes to me.

A military base. Jesse and I are pinned down. He’s across
from me and gives me one last cocky grin before diving across the open doorway,
firing as fast as he can. For a moment I think he’ll make it across… when blood
splatters across the floor and he slides limply into my side. He stares up at
me with dead eyes, a hole trickling blood between his eyes. A shadow swallows
what little light I have and I look up to see WidowMaker standing in the
doorway; her face is obscured by a helmet and for some reason I know it’s
controlling her. She aims her rifle at me and fires.

I feel myself falling and jolt awake as the device is
removed from my head. Gasping and running my hands over my hair, face,
everywhere feels like a thousand spiders are crawling across me. Panic seizes
me until someone pulls me into their arms and I smell… leather and gun oil.
Whiskey and aftershave.

I cry out, pulling Jesse close to me and sobbing into his
shoulder; I feel my mother’s hand on my back and part of me wants to shrink
away. She knew how intense that dream would be; how intense they’ll all be.

But I would hate her more if she kept me from this. Jesse
had been on the forefront of my mind so its no wonder I dream of him first. I’m
having trouble breathing and he holds me close whispering softly,

“Easy, darlin’. You had a bad fright. But you’re safe now.”

We’ve found me holding onto him and him talking helps me
calm down; helps me keep my sanity when it feels like I’m about to lose
whatever shit I have left. I can’t stop crying but I feel the panic subside…
slowly.

“Amy,” my uncle whispers, “can I have a word?”

My mother sighs and gets up, crossing the room as I at last
loosen my death grip on Jesse.

“Are you out of your mind?”
my uncle shouts.

I turn my head but as I do, my vision tilts and I slam my
eyes shut.

“I’m not saying force
her to do this, Mike. I mean let her decide when she wants to.” My mother says.

“Absolutely not. You saw how the readings were! She almost
died!” My uncle says.

“Which is why I had Angela here. Gabrielle—”

“No!” I hear my uncle walking back towards us, before I feel
him kneeling beside me and hugging me, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea this was
going to happen.” He says.

I open my eyes and glance over at my mother; she’s standing
with her arms crossed in the corner of the room. I can see her shaking like a
leaf.

I groan and lean back against Jesse, “Is there anyway to
reduce the intensity?” I ask.

My uncle looks at me bug-eyed while my mother turns, wiping
tears from her face,

“What?” he asks.

Another sob escapes me and I cover my eyes when a flash of
Jesse’s dead eyes staring at me crosses just behind them. I run my hands over the
crown of my head and let them fall when they reach my neck.

“There was more. Something Abuela doesn’t want me to see. Something only I can see.” I say.

Another shadow crosses over us and my father steps into the
room. Michael rises,

“Gabe—”

“It’s okay. Amy already told me.” My father says, glancing
at me; we stare at each other for a long minute before his eyes flick to where
my mother stands motionless,

“How many more was it?” he asks.

My mother covers her mouth and sniffs hard; a moment later
she’s collected herself enough to answer.

“Ten.”

@zarcake-writes