I’m standing at the edge of a field. There’s a man in the tall grass. The sun burns red-orange, shrouding his features in shadow. He calls out to me, but I can’t make out his words.
The dream sticks around like a corn kernel between my teeth. It’s been the same setting every night for a week, but the man is new.
At the office, I go through the motions; assembling paper forms, selecting the next colored file in the rotation, sliding it into the corresponding drawer.
It’s unexciting work in an unexciting life, but it’s safe.
Forms, blue file, drawer.
Forms, red file, drawer.
Forms, orange file–
My hand stills on the way to the drawer, fingertips hovering inches from the metal handle.
Who is the man?
A bell rings.
I pull open the drawer and slide the orange folder inside.
Edward is waiting for me with a glass of ruby red wine. His gray eyes shine as he pulls me close.
“I ordered your favorite,” he murmurs into my hair. “Yellow curry and sticky rice pudding should be here any minute.”
“Thai takeout again? I can’t remember the last time I cooked a meal. You’re spoiling me.” I lean in for another kiss, prying the wineglass from his fingers. “Not that I’m complaining.”
I’m standing at the edge of the field, the heat of the setting sun on my bare arms. The man is there, some distance away.
“Ro!”
Abruptly, the scene pulls into focus, the effect dizzying. It’s not sunshine lending the scenery this orangey red color; the field is ablaze.
The skin of my face is tight from the fire’s heat. The man appears in front of me, gripping me by both arms.
“Don’t give up, Ro.” His face is a blur but his voice tugs at something dormant within me.
“We’re losing her!” A different voice.
A bell sounds, an echoing tinkle in the distance.
“Ro?”
I wake suddenly, awash in sensation, but nothing like the heat of the field. Soft sheets. A faint scent of lavender. Edward’s cool hand against my cheek.
I roll my head toward him. “I’m awake.”
“You were dreaming again.” His gaze is intense, his gray eyes probing.
“It seemed so real. Almost more like a–like a memory.”
He drapes an arm over my middle. “Tell me about it.”
Sloppy with sleep, the arm across my body feels like a restraint, and Edward’s words like an order. I wriggle until his arm slips away. “I just want to go back to sleep.”
“I’m worried, Ro. What happens when you decide this memory-dream is more appealing than what you have here?” he teases.
I think of empty fields engulfed by flames. No, thank you. “Believe me, that’s not where I want to be.”
Forms, blue file, drawer.
Forms, red file, drawer.
Forms, yellow–
No, that’s not right.
Orange is supposed to be next.
Orange flames lick the sides of the building, turning the stone black.
That’s not right, either.
Screams of pain cut the air.
“I want her alive!”
Something is very wr–
“Ro!”
That voice again, the one from my dream…I know him.
Benji.
My friend. My…partner.
The bell rings.
I shake my head like my ears are waterlogged and get back to work.
Forms, orange folder, drawer.
More Thai takeout, paired with another delicious Cabernet. We recline on the couch, my feet in Edward’s lap.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he says.
“A lot on my mind.”
His fingers apply sudden pressure to my arch. My leg jerks in reflex but he holds my foot firmly. “You know you can tell me anything. Even if it seems insignificant.”
“Did you have something in mind?”
“Of course not,” Edward backtracks. “It’s just important that you feel safe with me.”
“I do,” I say automatically. So automatically it gives me pause.
The fire is spreading, popping and cracking as it absorbs more grass. I squint into the blaze, searching for the man. For…Benji.
An explosion nearby rocks me back. I scrub my stinging eyes. When I open them, the field has become a stretch of concrete peppered with chunks of rock pierced by rebar. Rubble from the explosion.
The ambush.
A bell rings, and the fire begins to fade.
No. I grit my teeth, refusing to release the dream. The memory.
“That’s it, Ro. We need you.”
That voice, coaxing me from far away.
From right here. Benji holds out a hand. “Come back with me.”
A part of me wants to stay where it’s safe. But that’s not the real me. I’m a soldier, and I know where I’m needed.
I reach out.
The light overhead is blinding. I try to move my arms but find them strapped into soft restraints.
It comes back like a flood: the Central Ring Army lying in wait. A needle in my neck, their commander screaming that no one else be left alive. Everyone under my command slaughtered as I was hauled away.
No, not everyone.
“Benji,” I breathe, staring up at the grinning face of the man from my dream. “You were…in my head.”
“I hitched a ride,” he says, moving to release the restraints. “The docs back at basecamp got a sample of the serum the Central Ring used.”
There are two bodies on the floor, men in white coats. One has gray eyes that stare sightlessly at the ceiling, and a small bell clutched in his hand. Edward.
Benji follows my gaze. “That’s how they were keeping you under.”
The Thai food, foot rubs, safety–none of it was real. “They were digging for information.”
He nods. “Good thing they underestimated you.”
Did they?
A distant sound of gunfire and shouting reaches my ears. Benji slaps a pistol into my hand. My pistol. “You good, Ro?” he asks, urgency in his tone.
My fingers find their spot along the gun’s grip. First, we win the war, then we make that safe world a reality. “I’m good. I’m exactly where I should be.”
About the author:
Chrissie Rohrman is a competition-addicted speculative fiction writer masquerading as Director of People for a quick-service restaurant franchise. She is currently editing the first book of a fantasy trilogy while contemplating a detour into thriller. Follow on Twitter @ChrissieRawrman or ‘like’ Chrissie Rohrman Writes Things on Facebook.
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