Chapter 2: Car Wrecks

In a tiny and unknown corner of Oniron, a million car crashes were all happening at the same time. They would never end.
It was no wonder this place was abandoned, thought Piper – usually the inhabitants of Oniron were okay with staying in their towering cities and walled-off strongholds, separated from all the places where human nightmares manifested. In the outer lands, whatever humans in the other world dreamed about had a tendency to show up and start prowling.
Usually the only people you could find here were the tourists and the thrillseekers – people who thought it would be fun, just once or twice, to pass into a human's dream. They usually turned and left out of disappointment as soon as they found out that humans didn't actually have nightmares about showing up to school naked. Mostly it was just anxiety nightmares, and those were no fun to watch – oh, boo hoo, your teeth are falling out. Big deal.
On the other hand, sometimes there were these gigantic, awful beasts roaming the outer lands. Piper always loved when a horror movie got really popular in the human world – as soon as it hit, sharks or serial killers or demons would start running around and they would own the ecosystem for a while, slaughtering each other, establishing dominance. This would last for a few years, but then a series of disappointing sequel movies would be released, and humans would stop being scared of that particular killer, stop having nightmares about them. They would become weak and unable to sustain themselves, and a newer villain would roll around soon enough. The cycle repeated.
This area was Piper's own special place, though. Mostly because nobody else knew about it – it was tucked away beyond a mountain range that nobody ever wanted to go near, because that was where humans had all their rock-climbing nightmares, and there were a lot of falling bodies there. Once you passed it, you could see an isolated, freestanding city. And once you went into the city, you saw the same thing, on every corner, in every intersection. Hundreds of thousands of automobiles mid-collision, sometimes with explosions or shrapnel flying – from what Piper could tell, cars in the human world didn't actually explode on contact, but being in a dream always made things more dramatic, even if it didn't make sense.
Nobody ever went here, so he was free to walk around the city and have it all to himself. He loved the spectacle of it. Car crash dreams were some of the most common dreams that the humans had – cars were dangerous in the first place, but add in a concern for the passenger's safety, and the financial burden that a wrecked car would put on someone, even if everyone got out safely, and you had a swirling cocktail of anxiety that was ripe for bad dreams. He couldn't relate to that, of course. Automobiles didn't exist on Oniron, and there weren't too many people Piper actually cared about anyway. He had only one goal on his mind.
He stopped on a street corner, reached into his pocket and took out a small gem – a perfectly formed crystal. It was one of the few he had left. He applied a little bit of pressure and crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. He hoped his man was on time and in the right place.
As the powdery dust fell to the ground, shadowy figure slowly began to materialize. Piper sighed with relief – Terrell had kept his promise.
The silhouette slowly started to fade in and gain features – a short, professional haircut and glasses. He was the spitting image of a bestselling novelist. Piper had convinced him to look like that, of course. When the man was finally solid, he took a step forward and looked around in amazement at where he had found himself.
Piper broke the silence. “Gordon Terrell.”
Terrell met his gaze. “Piper. Been a while, hasn't it?”
“It has,” said Piper. “Glad I could rely on you to be on time.”
“It's the least I could do,” Terrell responded. “For the man whom I owe all my success to. Right now I'm busy with publicity for the movie – magazine interviews, daytime television. It's great.”
“Te-le-visson?” Piper furrowed his brow.
Terrell chuckled. “Don't have that over here, do you? Doesn't matter. All it means is, I'm famous. The more I get out there and promote it, the more people want to see the movie.”
“Good!” said Piper. “Lots of people will go see it at the same time?”
“Oh, a record-breaking number,” said Terrell. “In fact – here, I'll show this to you.” Terrell reached into his jacket pocket, took out a newspaper clipping and handed it to Piper.
Piper read it. It was inn big letters, with a picture of two young and beautiful actors under it. It said:
NOT THE SAME, PART II
WORLD PREMIERE
12 MIDNIGHT
JUNE 12
“That's in three days,” murmured Piper.
“Right,” said Terrell. He took back the clipping. “One of the biggest worldwide premieres in movie history. You can be at the Shieldwork then?”
“I will,” said Piper. “Won't be a problem.”
“Good! That's settled, then.”
Piper didn't say anything in response. He was looking intently at a car that had been speeding around, uncrashed. He knew it would find someone soon enough. There was no nightmare unless everything seemed normal at first.
“Piper?”
Terrell had snapped Piper out of it for a second. Was he waiting for more orders? “Piper, is that all? I can go back now if we're done.”
Piper thought for a second. “You're sure there's no way this movie could be bigger?”
“Not that I can think of. The production company, they've been advertising the hell out of it. It's the last installment in the series. Everybody wants to see the bad guy go down.”
“Is that it?”
Now Terrell was confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, is it just very popular? Is there a story around it? Is it controversial?”
“I... don't know,” Terrell looked away. “Not really. It's been... easy going.”
Piper sighed. “I've been doing some research on your world, Gordon. You humans are slaves to stories. The big movies, the ones everyone talks about – they have a hook. These movies make them feel like... like a part of a bigger story, you know?”
“No.”
Piper didn't seem to hear him. “You've heard of something called... The Dark Knight?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, you have, because not only was it really big, someone who was in it died!”
“...you mean Heath Ledger?”
“That's it!” Piper pointed to Terrell, absorbed in his train of thought now. “Heath Ledger died, and it was his last movie, and then everyone went to go see it, and it was a huge success, and he got lots of awards. Do you know why? Because it was a tragedy, Gordon!” Piper was practically swinging his arms around now. “All those humans wanted to be the ones that made his death mean something, so they all went and saw his last movie together, because it was such a shame!”
“What are you saying?” Terrell almost shouted, taking a step back.
“I mean,” Piper almost launched himself at Terrell, “that's what you need, Gordon!”
Terrell said nothing. He exhaled deeply and when he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone. “I've done a lot of things for you, Piper,” he said, “but you can't ask me to kill someone for the movie.”
Piper seemed to sober up. He put his hands on Terrell's shoulders reassuringly. “Gordon,” he said, “I would never ask you to kill anyone.”
Terrell sighed. “Thank you.”
Piper roughly grabbed Terrell and threw him into the street, into the path of the oncoming car.
Terrell's body flew into the air and landed with a thud, lifeless.
Now the car that had hit him was frozen, like all the others. That was how nightmares worked. They stretched time and focused, forever, on the moment when everything went wrong.
Piper didn't spare a glance at Terrell as he walked away. Tomorrow in the human world, someone would find Terrell's physical body, not responding. Ambulances would be called. Medical attention would arrive. It would be too late. Gordon Terrell, author of the worldwide bestselling Not Okay series of young-adult novels, would be declared dead of a drug overdose, just three days before the movie adaptation of his last book was set to premiere. People would flock to it in droves.
And somewhere, some stranger who had nothing to do with it would wake up sweating, because they had just had a nightmare of running over someone with their car.

This was awkward.
Marc sat down in his living room as the dog statue – Icelus, that was her name – prowled around and checked the windows. Occasionally she let herself out to patrol the yard and came back inside.
When she was finally satisfied, she sat down in the middle of the living room. This dog still made the hairs on the back of Marc's neck stand on end. It was literally the thing of his nightmares, except now it was walking around nonchalantly... and looking at him like it expected something.
“Would you, uh,” Marc's words finally stumbled out of his mouth, “would you like a... a drink?”
Icelus was nonplussed. “I am made of stone, Marc.”
“Oh,” he said quietly. “I though maybe you were real...”
“I am real,” she said.
“But you're not... statues are made of stone, so they don't move and walk and talk!” said Marc. “You're alive, aren't you?”
Icelus seemed to consider this for a moment. “I am made of stone and magic, Marc.”
Marc slumped back in his chair. “Okay,” he said.
“I'm really sorry if I've upset you. This can't be easy to accept.”
“It isn't,” said Marc. “How can a statue be alive? Are you even a statue?”
“I'm something else, I guess.” Icelus began pacing the room. “It's very complicated and nobody in your realm knows anything about it. You might be the first, actually.”
Marc said nothing.
“So,” she said, “I'm sure you have questions. What do you want to know?”
Marc leaned forward. “I can ask you anything, just like that?”
“Of course. I'm here asking for your help. I should be honest and let you know exactly what it is I'm about.” She stopped. “So... anything. Go ahead. But I'll try to be brief. We may not have a lot of time.”
Marc put his hands on his face. Why him?
“Why me?” he asked.
Icelus sighed in response. “It's complicated and I don't exactly know why.”
“That's... very useful, thanks.”
She huffed. “Hold on. I can explain the why and the what, but not the how.”
“Sorry,” said Marc.
“There is another world that exists parallel to this one,” she said. “That is where I'm from.”
“Another world? Do you mean a different planet, or...”
Icelus shook her head. “An entirely different plane of existence. One that your dreams make real.”
If Marc hadn't already been sitting down, he would have needed to sit down. “What? What do dreams have to do with it?”
“Our two worlds affect each other in complex ways, Marc. Our world shows up in your dreams, and your dreams show up in our world.”
“Mine?” said Marc.
“All humans' dreams, Marc.”
“Oh, good,” he said. “If it was just mine, that would be weird. I thought I was special for a minute.”
“You are,” said Icelus. “I need you to go there with me.”
“What?!” Marc shot out of his seat. “Why?”
“Because I can sense that there's a danger to my world and I can't go there alone,” said Icelus coldly.
Marc took a step back. He felt his heart rate pick up again. Icelus was reminding him of the frightening nightmares that had plagued his childhood. He tried to say something, but the words got caught in his throat. All he managed to get out was, “Why not?”
Icelus saw the effect she was having on him and seemed to shrink down; she was now solemn and withdrawn. “Because I have been exiled from that place.”
Her confession gave Marc at least a little more strength to ask, “What did you do?”
“It's not important,” she said. “My people no longer trust me. That's all. Anyway,” she said, raising her head and meeting his gaze, “It's not just that I need someone to act on my behalf. I used to have powers over there, I was a great authority. In my world, we gain power only as much as people dream of us. But I gave it all up when I was exiled. I wouldn't be able to return on my own.”
She took a few steps toward Marc. It was all he could do not to recoil again. “But you have had dreams of me, Marc. I can tell. You've given me some small measure of power, even in my exile. And if we go together, you can act as...” she considered for a minute. “...a kind of tuning fork. Amplifying my abilities, meager as they are.”
Marc looked aside. “You know about the dreams?” he asked.
“I know you've had them,” she said.
Pause. “Have you seen them?” said Marc. “Do you know what happens in them?”
Icelus pursed her lips. “No. Why?”
He could tell her. He could tell her right now about all the times he dreamed of her: chasing him, toying with him. Killing him.
“No,” he said. “Not really.”
Icelus eyed Marc. She was suspicious.
“What do you need to do when we get there?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.
She started pacing again. “When I was exiled, I left behind... protection. To keep the bridge between our worlds safe. I'm afraid the protection might be threatened now.”
“Why is that?”
“I can sense it. It was my incantation as I left that world – one last spell to safeguard the bridge. But its power is being weakened somehow.”
Marc looked at Icelus for a second and, for some reason – maybe because she was spilling her guts – he felt emboldened. He stood up.
“And what if I refuse?”
She glanced at him forlornly. “I know that's a possibility. This is a lot to ask of a stranger. Will you refuse, Marc?”
Marc thought for a second. “This bridge, what happens if it's destroyed?”
“I couldn't say,” Icelus replied. “It is almost inconceivable. The connection between our worlds is a fundamental law of the universe – if it's compromised, we might all just fall apart.”
Marc looked out the window at the night sky. “That's... hard to imagine.”
“I know.”
Marc said nothing for a long time. Neither did Icelus. Marc appreciated that – if a talking dog statue was going to drop in to his bedroom and ask him to hop into a different universe to help fix an inter-dimensional portal, at least she was giving him some space to decide.
But he still didn't like having his back turned to her. Even after all these years, the sight of her made him short of breath. He half-expected her to leap up and kill him right now.
“If you want me to leave,” she finally said, “I will.”
Marc turned his head. “Just like that?”
“Well,” she drew out the pause, “you'll have to explain to your grandmother why her dog statue disappeared.”
Marc was silent for a second, then let out a single snort of laughter. “You're saying the universe is in trouble, and you expect me to help you because I might get into trouble with my grandma otherwise?”
“Well, what are you going to tell her if I'm gone? Just... vanished?” Icelus sat down expectantly.
Marc thought for a second. What could he tell Mary if that happened? He'd thrown it away? What for?
“Okay,” he said. “You have a point.”
Icelus stood up. “Will you go with me, then?”
What? “Now?”
“Yes!” she said. “There's no time to lose!”
“I, uh...” he glanced downward. “I'm still in my pajamas.”
“That doesn't matter.”
“I need to feed the fish!”
“How long will that take?”
“...ten... minutes?”
“I'll wait,” she said. Icelus sat down once again. “You can get changed as well.”
Wordless, Marc stumbled upstairs and pulled on a shirt, jeans and shoes. His head was groggy and his movements were sluggish. Every few steps his vision swam with black dots. A combination of fatigue and disbelief had made him almost zombified. He didn't even register that he had gotten the fish food out and sprinkled a whole lot into the tank. And before he knew it he was in front of Icelus once again.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“...yeah,” he replied.
“Then put your hand on my back so we can go together.”
He reached to touch the crook of her back – and stopped. He wondered what she felt like. All these years, somehow it had never occurred to him to feel this statue. Would it be cold? Or warm, since Icelus was alive? Why was he hesitating?
“Marc, come on,” she said.
Nothing.
“Do it!”
Why was he even agreeing to this?
“Do it! Or else -”
His hand brushed her cold stone back. Marc's vision went black and his ears screamed. Nothing was real anymore.
'Or else'... apparently, those were the magic words. A straight look in the eyes from her, yelling, and the hint of a threat, and he immediately did what she said. Marc realized why he had agreed to this ridiculous request, and why he just accepted all of Icelus's stories and demands. Why he could never have done anything else, even after all these years, even after finally hearing her speak so kindly and sadly.
He was still afraid of her. That would never change.
Now she was pulling him into somewhere he didn't know or understand.


Next