Date: Sat, 06 Aug 2005 22:49:29 -0500 From: Eric Smith Subject: Dylan's Story Dylan Childress clamored out from under his top sheet and planted both feet firmly on the floor. It wasn't long before his surroundings swam into focus, tainted slightly by the fog of a restless sleep. He remembered the dream and how it had spent most of the night wrestling with the sandman in hopes of chipping away at the wall he had erected. There had been a creature of a minute stature, yet horrific in its ability to haunt him. It had flitted around him as he ran through the tall grass. He could smell the freshness in the air and feel the tickling touch of the blades of grass on his bare feet, but the creature that pursued him refused to allow him the pleasure of enjoying the moment. It was the size of a small bird, but looked nothing like the feathered friends he remembered from another lifetime. He had never gotten a good look at the creature, but knew it to be malevolent in nature. He pushed the image from his mind but it wasn't long before the tendrils of sleep lifted their veil altogether and Dylan was forced to focus more accurately. The images of the nightmare were replaced by the sober reality of daily life. He was in fact living in an abandoned mall and the creature that had haunted his dreams was not a dream at all. It had merely buzzed him in his sleep and now that he had awakened, had opted to retire and await new opportunities to haunt him. Riding the onset of reality, Dylan sat on his makeshift bed in the deepest and darkest part of the deserted complex. A multitude of thoughts cascaded through his mind. "What did I do wrong? Why does nobody love me? Why am I here?" Dylan plucked his well worn pack from the floor at his feet and rummaged through it in search of the one thing that would take him back to a happier time. There! He had it! It was a worn picture. It had not been pulled from a family photo album, nor had it been taken to serve in this capacity. It was nothing more than a picture cut from the cloth of a discarded magazine and imprinted on Dylan's brain from the moment of discovery. Anyone looking at this picture would no doubt cast it aside and add to the debris that already littered this devastated landscape, but to Dylan, it was a tangible link to an alternate reality. It was a series of four pictures. A man and a boy of Dylan's age spending an afternoon at a park. The grass was green and the sky an azure blue, a stark contrast to the world he had accustomed himself to. The man and the boy were happy and were smiling in each picture save for the last. In what had become Dylan's favorite picture, the man held the boy in his arms as the boy slept. He favored this picture most because it represented something that he could not fathom. His dreams of green grass and azure skies were continuously plagued by the buzzing of the bee/dragonfly menace crushing any hopes he may have had of seeking that place of solace and serenity. As he looked at it now, a wave of warmth washed over him and he felt his confidence return. He clutched the well worn picture to his chest and closed his eyes, placing himself in the man's arms as he had hundreds of times since finding the picture weeks ago. A single tear rolled down his cheek at the realization that this most recent attempt to wish this dream into reality would be just as futile as previous attempts. He quickly refolded the paper and slipped it back into his backpack. The single tear had been unexpected and had taken this entire nightmare to a new level. Until now, he had managed to keep the tears at bay despite the ache of longing that accompanied each viewing. Shaking the moment off, Dylan plucked a half eaten candy bar from the bag and began to take small bites from it. A few days ago, he had found a deserted vending machine in one of the mall's hallways and had broken the glass, scooping his booty into his backpack. He knew that eating junk food was bad for him, but in this world there were no well balanced meals to sustain him. He had been left to fend for himself for whatever reason and he was determined to survive at any cost. When he had finished the Snicker's bar, he tossed the wrapper into a nearby wastebasket and surveyed his sleeping quarters. He had lost track of time and had no idea how long he had been here, but had made the most of that time and had ventured out into the mall in search of supplies. The mall itself was huge and most of the ground he had covered had offered him a small pittance. He had found a fairly clean mattress at a bedding store along with a package of fresh sheets and had placed these items in an office in the basement of the store. He understood the dangers of building a fire in an enclosed space, so he had scrounged up an old lantern and some kerosene at a mostly demolished sporting goods store on the upper level. This same run had also given him an aluminum baseball bat that was now his constant companion. It was there that he had found the magazine with the picture he so closely cherished. Today was to be no different than any other day. The mall had only been partially explored and new territory would be scouted today. Dylan was accustomed to this day to day routine and as scary as it may be on occasion, it was still better than being chased through an open field by the creature. The grass, for all its height, offered no safe place to hide for Dylan whereas the darkened rooms of the abandoned mall provided a multitude of haven should the creature follow him here. He straightened out his polo shirt, brushed off his jeans and headed out into the mall. The office Dylan had chosen as his sanctuary was located in the basement. In its heyday this part of the mall had served in an administrative capacity, essentially the nerve center of the mall itself. Any trace of civility and normality had long since disappeared and only bits and pieces remained of a once thriving enterprise. Gone were the computers, phones, desks and other tools of the retail trade. What remained was a thick layer of dust that covered fallen ceiling tiles, empty bookshelves and broken furniture. This was Dylan's world and had been for some time. As he worked his away through the now familiar debris, the boy tried again to remember life before the mall. He sensed strongly that there had been another life prior to this one, yet remained unable to grasp it completely. From time to time, slivers of light would illuminate his memory and offer him tidbits of laughter, sunshine and a carefree existence. He had long ago given up on probing those slivers though as they always seemed to be one step ahead of him and would blend into the shadows at the slightest hint of any of his probes. His eight year old mind had all but given up on trying to break through that barrier. The energy required to attempt such probes left him both physically and emotionally drained. Better to focus on the here and now and concentrate on his immediate survival as opposed to chasing glimmers of unreachable goals. Besides, it was quite possible that the bee/dragonfly creature would be waiting at the end of the tunnel in hopes of doing mean things to him. Dylan was not one who suffered from an overactive imagination but the mere thought of being eaten by a hideous creature certainly left doubt in his mind. On the other hand, there was a slight chance that these slivers could provide a way out of this prison he found himself in. In each of his prior explorations here, he had encountered doors labeled EXIT, only to find them stubbornly immovable in each attempt to open them. In short, both the light and the dark provided him with adequate reasons to be frightened. He ascended the littered stairwell slowly, mindful not to trip and injure himself. He was unprepared to treat any injury he might sustain and saw prevention as a preemptive strike against cure. The north end of the mall was virgin territory for Dylan. Thus far, he had concentrated his explorations to the south side and had accumulated very little for his troubles. In a partially collapsed shoe store, he had found several pairs of dust covered sneakers so his feet would not feel the sharp pains of debris that littered every square inch of the floor. The remains of a well known fast food restaurant had promised real food, but had delivered rotting meat and moldy bread. A bookstore may have offered more pictures like the one he so cherished had it not been waterlogged in six inches of water. Turning right at the top of the stairwell, Dylan peered ahead into the murky corridor. For a moment he stiffened, afraid to move on, yet afraid to remain in one place. His young mind envisioned packs of wild wolves roaming the unexplored portions of the mall searching for a tender young morsel to stumble into their path. "Please. I want him. I need him!" The words slammed into Dylan like a fist, almost knocking him over onto the dust covered floor. They had not been spoken by any creature that may have sought shelter in this place, but had echoed through the confines of his mind. For Dylan, the origin was irrelevant. It was the phrase itself that seemed to cause his blood to run like ice water through his veins. For as long as he could remember, fear of the unknown had been a constant companion for him, yet until now he had not heard a solitary voice inside the walls of this place. He hefted the baseball bat into a defensive position and shook off the resounding echoes of the haunting words. Slowly, he began to advance his way towards the unknown maze ahead of him. "He has to know that I want him! He needs to know that he belongs with me!" The voice returned, the volume increasing in intensity. Dylan dropped the bat and clasped his hands over his ears in an effort to drown out the phantom voice. It must be that bee/dragonfly again, he thought. It must have found a way to permeate my reality, no longer wishing to restrict it's haunting to my dream world. Recovering almost immediately, Dylan scooped up the bat and held it in front of him in a defensive posture, his eyes rapidly scanning the darkened corridor ahead of him. Suddenly, a sliver of light illuminated his memory again, this time stabbing its way through the barrier and piercing the armor Dylan had so proudly worn. A vision played itself out in his young mind and he braced himself for the impact. In his mind's eye, a large angry man approached him, fists cocked and ready for action. "HE'S MINE!" the voice grumbled as a sneer etched its way across the ruddy cheeks. Dylan stumbled backwards, caught completely off guard by this newest development. His ankle caught on a piece of broken furniture and the boy tumbled to the ground, the aluminum bat flying out of his hand and skittering across the floor. The bee/dragonfly creature returned at that moment, buzzing him as he tried to scramble to his feet. His backpack and the bat forgotten, Dylan rushed headlong into the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time, unmindful of the debris littering his escape route. Only one thought cascaded through his mind as he descended. He needed to reach the safety of his room. There was no way the creature or the voice would be able to permeate the barriers of that room unless he was to fall asleep and dream. He rounded the landing and began his final descent to the only haven he had come to know as the creature buzzed him. He tripped and fell at the bottom of the stairwell, scraping his knee in the fall. The creature swarmed around his head and the voice returned. "He can't go. I need him to stay here!" The creature hovered above him, gazing at him as a predator does his next meal. "He needs to stay here!" the voice growing in intensity and tinged with fear. Ignoring his injured knee, Dylan scrambled to his feet and scurried towards the only shelter left for him, the safety of his room. Bolting into the room, he slammed the door shut behind him, hoping against hope that whatever had been chasing him would find his barricade impenetrable. With his back against the door, he tried to catch his breath and brace himself for whatever may come next. He only hoped that he would be brave enough to stave off any attack when it finally did come. His eyes scanned the small room rapidly, looking for any signs that his tormentors may have penetrated his defenses. All was as it should be. After a few moments, the voice disappeared and the bee/dragonfly creature ceased its buzzing. For a moment, Dylan wondered if he should take the chance and venture back into the mall to complete his unfinished task. This latest development had taken his fear to a new level and he found himself unprepared for its onslaught. The tears began to well up in his eyes as he left the door and shuffled to the mattress. The events of the last few weeks were beginning to take their toll on him and he suddenly felt weak and incapable of any form of action. He sat on the mattress, brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them in a last defensive position. A multitude of thoughts cascaded through his young mind. Where was he? Why was he here? Why couldn't he remember anything beyond this mall? What was beyond the doors of the mall? The tears began to flow freely now, trailing down his cheeks despite his best efforts to stave them off. He began to sob, his small chest wracked with involuntary spasms. Slowly he felt his defenses crumbling one by one. Whatever savvy he had accrued here was slowly slipping away and the loss was overwhelming. Lowering his head to his knees, he began to wail. "He needs me doctor and more importantly, I need him." The voice was back, but the timbre had changed. It no longer seemed malevolent in nature. It had almost adopted a pleading sound to it. Dylan raised his head slowly at the sound of it, the tears streaming down his cheeks unabashedly. "Dylan, please come back. I need you here with me." A sliver of light appeared at the door followed by another and another. Dylan gazed at them through misty eyes. The creature had won the battle for him. He had resisted for as long as possible, but he was merely a boy and therefore incapable of prolonged battles. The creature itself was nowhere in sight, but Dylan knew that the slivers of light were nothing more than a manifestation. The light would soon encompass the room and he would be devoured by it. His will to fight was slowly ebbing away and he felt his energy being tapped by unseen forces. The three slivers of light were joined by several more and they began to merge as one. As they merged, the room began to illuminate and the voice returned. "That's right Dylan. Swim towards the light. You can do it, I know you can. I'm here waiting for you my dear." Dylan began to feel the exhaustion overtake his small body. He knew he needed to fight the light, but lacked the strength to do so. He knew that upon entering the light he would be consumed by the creature that had haunted him for the last few weeks. But he had reached the end of his rope. His rations were low and any foray into the mall would now be much more dangerous than any prior expedition. The light seemed to pulse as if it were a predator cornering its prey. It continued to grow as other slivers of light dropped from the ceiling tiles and added their brilliance to the sphere. Soon the small room was bathed in brightness and the voice returned, begging Dylan to walk towards the light. Eight year old Dylan Childress collapsed backwards onto the bed and allowed himself to be swallowed by the brilliance. In another world, Ben Sharkey sat stoically at the bedside of a comatose child. The doctors had not been too optimistic about the outcome. The boy was clearly in a coma and was not expected to awaken at all. It had been his fault. He had driven three hundred miles to adopt this boy after years of filling out mountains of paperwork and wading through miles of red tape. Finally last week, he had gotten the call. He had been approved to adopt Dylan Childress. The boy had been through some traumatic ordeals in his young life and was considered by many doctors to have sought refuge in some inner sanctum that none of them could penetrate. It seemed to Ben that they almost welcomed the chance to rid themselves of this burden. Pulling into the driveway of the orphanage, a ball had scooted across the driveway followed by a child. Bend braked but not in time and the child had been thrown. The child had been Dylan. Now as he sat here in a pall of sadness, he gently caressed the boy's hand and cooed to him. "I need you here with me Dylan. We're gonna be a family honey, but I need you to get well so I can take you home with me and show you your new room and all your toys." Dylan remained unresponsive. "Swim to the light Dylan. I'm here waiting for you my dear and I know you can do it." Ben leaned into the boy and kissed him on the forehead, a single tear falling and landing on the boy's cheek. Suddenly, the boy moaned and his eyelids fluttered momentarily. Ben cupped the boy's angelic face in his hands. "Walk towards the light honey, I'm here waiting." For a moment, Dylan remained as passive as he had for the last few weeks since the accident. Then slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. Ben gave the boy's hand an extra squeeze before lifting it and kissing it gently. "Welcome back, honey." Some say it was nothing short of a miracle, while others insist that science played a large part. Still others claim that it was mere happenstance. For Ben Sharkey and Dylan Childress, it was a reunion. Two weeks later, upon a speedy recovery, Dylan Childress and Ben Sharkey walked through the park hand in hand followed by a photographer who captured the exact moment that Dylan leaped into Ben's arms and gave him the biggest hug of all.