She opens her eyes to see trees across a suburban highway, feels the wooden slats of a bench beneath her hands and buttocks. She must have fallen asleep, but doesn’t remember sitting down. She feels exhausted, like she has been walking for days. But surely she had only left the shopping centre an hour ago. She looks down at her denim jeans and black walking shoes, pushes herself to standing. She can’t just sit here if she ever wants to get home.
She isn’t sure which direction to go. She peers down the sidewalk as far as she can see in one direction, to where it slopes downhill around a curve to the right. The trees are too tall here to see past them. Looking the other way, she sees much the same view. The other side of the four-lane road offers no hints to what’s in either direction – no road signs, no people she can ask. There isn’t even any graffiti to deface the bench that sits like a sentinel opposite the one behind her.
Definitely no sign of the shopping centre. Or the parking lot where she had parked her car, then caught the bus to go the rest of the way. She vaguely remembers that had been the instructions… from whom, she only has a vague memory of long dark hair and equally dark, shadowy eyes. Someone she doesn’t know, whose path she had crossed on her way to the mall.
She decides to turn left, reasoning that she would have walked facing traffic, even though it wouldn’t really matter with these lovely, smooth sidewalks. That should bring her back to town because surely, she didn’t have to walk this far from the bus stop to the shopping centre.
As she walks, she peers through the forest to her left, hoping to see a house, or people. Someone she can ask for assistance. She’s not completely sure of the name of the town even. Hopetown? Is that it? She can’t quite remember. She has been here on a vacation, and is supposed to fly home the next day. This was only supposed to be one last road trip. But here she is, in the middle of an apparent forest of trees and totally lost. Now, she just wants to get back to her car and head back to the hotel to finish packing.
Trying to remain calm, she reassures herself that it’s still light so she has lots of time to find her car and get back. The lack of cars on the road seems odd, but she reasons perhaps everyone is still at work and this road leads to a suburb outside of town. Perhaps traffic only picks up at rush hour. She wishes it was rush hour now, and laughs uneasily to herself.
She suddenly remembers her keys, shoves her hands in her pockets to search for them. Nothing. She will be in serious trouble if she can’t find them. She isn’t wearing the jacket she remembers from earlier in the day, perhaps they are in there. Did she leave the jacket at the bench? She hasn’t walked too far so she turns around. The bench is empty. She is starting to panic when she notices the light weight on her shoulders and back. Of course! She must have put her jacket in her knapsack. She shakes her head, how could she have forgotten?
She turns left again to keep walking, and hauls off her knapsack to make sure the keys are in there. She opens the drawstring and pulls out her purple jacket. That surprises her, because she’s sure she put on her black one that morning, to match her shoes. She shrugs, the keys are more important than her faulty memory. And there she finds them. The rental tag inscribed with Hopetown Honda, and two keys. One for the car, one for her hotel room. She tucks it all back into the knapsack and slings it over her shoulders again, picking up speed.
So Hopetown isn’t where the shopping centre is located, but if she can just find someone, she thinks she can figure out where the rental car is. She pushes down any discomfort, and ignores the slight pain in her belly. Hunger? A stitch? She doesn’t have time to worry about that right now. She sweeps her eyes left to right and back, hoping to find some clues as she walks, thankful for the smoothness of the sidewalk and the gradual slope down.
The streets are remarkably well-cared for here. Not a crack or patch to be seen. Such a pleasant contrast to the streets where she lives. This city must be quite well-off to have that kind of road repair budget. She hopes she can remember its name if she actually meets someone along the way. Her thoughts drift off as she walks.
***
Something pokes the side of her face, hot and unexpected. She shrinks away from the pain and it is suddenly dark. She is lying on her back on the ground, it’s damp and she can feel mud and water beneath her fingers. There are people wandering around with torches and flashlights. She reaches up to touch her face, but someone grabs her arm, pulls her along the ground. The person is moving too fast for her to get to her feet, and she feels stones and hard bits under her back as they go. She hears moaning and realizes it is coming from her own lips. That frightens her even more than the pain, and she forces her lips closed. She wonders how she got here, or if it is even real.
The movement slows, and the first person is joined by a second. They lift her by her arms and legs they are carrying her through an open door. It is only slightly less dark. Candles illuminate a dingy hallway, but she she can’t see who is carrying her. She closes her eyes, and only opens them again when she feels her back touch down. Her hands and feet are released, and she pulls her arms down across her chest. This room is no lighter, but is quieter than outside.
She squints as a light hits her face, and soSmeone leans over her, close. Too close. She screams, startled, and a hand clasps over her mouth to silence her. The face above her is angry and strange. Distorted somehow. Her screams continue, muffled, and she tries to squirm out from under the hand which presses harder. Someone else is there now, pinning down her arms. She tries to shake her head loose, her cheek still burning.
****
Startled when her hand touches her cheek, she opens her eyes. The summer trees form a canopy above where she is lying on the ground. She realizes she must have sat down to rest, and fallen asleep again. But what a horrible dream that was. She shudders. Even being lost along a strange highway is much better than the place she just awoke from.
She sits up slowly, taking stock. It is still light out, so she couldn’t have been sleeping for long. Her backpack is on the ground beside her, and she pulls it towards her to get her jacket. She is feeling a bit chilly. She fumbles for the zipper tab and slides it open, pulls out her jacket, slips her arms into the sleeves. It is a smooth black cotton material, and doesn’t warm her as much as she thought it would.
She looks at her arm, puzzled but not sure why. Then she thinks about her keys, and double-checks the pocket. They are there, with a red plastic tab engraved with RBR. Rescue Beach Rentals, she remembers suddenly. That must be where the hotel is. In a town called Rescue Beach. At least when she finds someone, she’ll be able to ask for directions back.
This thought motivates her and she gets back to her feet, puts her backpack on and starts walking again. The sidewalk is narrower here and the woods more open, and she wonders if that means she is getting closer to the city. Every so often she catches a glimpse of water through the trees, and vaguely remembers seeing a river along the road as she got to the city earlier in the day. She must be getting closer!
About five minutes later, she glances through the trees and sees a building. As she gets closer, she is disappointed to see it is an old clapboard house with a slight lean to its aspect – obviously long abandoned. Still, it is encouraging she thinks, and takes it as a sign she is on the right track finally. A few minutes later, after spotting a few more houses in similar condition, she finally hears the sound of a car motor behind her.
She turns excitedly, and starts waving. As it approaches, it slows, and pulls over on the far side of the road. The window rolls down and a woman looks over at her. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh thank goodness you’ve come along!” She calls back to the car. “I’ve been walking for quite a while. Are you going into the city?” She is still not sure if the name of the city is Hopetown, but at this point she just wants to get to civilization, and a phone.
“Yes, I am. Do you need a lift?”
“Would you mind?” As the driver shakes her head, all she feels is relief. She hurries across the road towards the car, and is almost there when she hears brakes squeal. She looks up in time to see another car approaching her, and fear closes her eyes.
****
She opens her eyes and stares up at a ceiling. It’s not quite dark, and when she turns her head to the right she can make out a faint light above what appears to be a window.
At least now she knows she is dreaming, so she feels a little less frightened. She tries to move her arms and legs but can’t. It hurts to turn her head to the left, so she lifts her head slightly. It is dim in the room, but she can see restraints across her chest and legs. Why am I dreaming this, she wonders. I really need to wake myself up. All that walking must have made me more tired than I thought.
She hears footsteps nearby, and lets her eyelids fall again. She wills herself to wake up, but she is still in the same room when she opens her eyes to a noise behind her. It sounds like a clattering of rocks, and she can’t stop herself from flinching. She can’t see anyone, and nobody approaches her, but the pressure increases on her legs until it becomes intensely painful. She tries not to cry out but can’t help herself.
She hears feet thudding up behind her, then sees the same angry face as before, yelling at her. She doesn’t understand what he is saying, the pain is drowning out his words. She gives in to her fear and his face fades to darkness.
****
There is a bump, and she opens her eyes to see the woods on either side of the road speeding by her. She is sitting in the front seat of the car that had stopped for her earlier, strapped in with a seatbelt. She feels a bit stiff, but not as bad as she would expect if she had been hit by a car.
“What happened?” she asks, looking over at the driver.
“Oh, you’re awake! Good,” the driver smiles at her. “I was a bit worried when you fainted. The driver of the other car helped me get you in the seat here. I was going to take you to the hospital if you didn’t wake up!”
“I must be more tired than I thought. I’ve never fainted before in my life.” She moves her head around a bit, and flinches a bit. Her cheek is still a bit tender. Her legs feel very heavy. “Did the other driver hit me?”
“No, not at all,” the woman reassures her. “I think you were just startled, perhaps. We couldn’t get out of the cars fast enough to catch you. Are you feeling alright?” she asks her, looking over. “It might be good for you to go to the hospital regardless, to get checked out.”
She shakes her head. That is the last place she wants to go. “I’m fine, really. All I really need is to get to the city to pick up my car from the parking lot.”
“We should be there in about five minutes.” After a pause the driver continues, “How did you get all the way out there, without your car?”
“I guess I walked.” She wonders for a moment at the question then . “How far from town was I?”
“About 15 km.”
“Wow, thank you so much for picking me up. Literally,” she laughs lightly. “Is there a town in the other direction? I may have gotten turned around!”
“Well, yes. But it is about an hours’ drive to get there from here.”
“Oh. That make’s sense then. We’re going to the right place then. It’s Hopetown, is that right?”
“Close,” the driver laughs. “Hopeville. You aren’t from around here, are you?”
“No,” she admits. “I was hopelessly lost. The name of the place is eerily hopeful, though. I just need to find the parking lot, and head back to Rescue Beach. That’s where I am visiting.”
“I think you mean Rocky Beach, you’ll be going back to Rocky Beach. That’s the name of the town in the other direction.”
“Perfect,” she answers. She notices that they have finally arrived in town, and the buildings look vaguely familiar. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Does it?” The driver doesn’t look over, but makes a sudden right turn at the next corner and pulls over to the side of the road. “You’re here.” She reaches into the back seat and grabs the back pack, tosses it to her passenger. “You’ll need this, don’t lose it.”
She looks out her window, and there it is. The parking lot. There is only one car in there, a Volkswagon, so that must be the one. For some reason she was expecting to see a Honda. She pulls the keys from her coat pocket. The tag is blue leather, the same colour as her coat sleeve, and marked RBV. She shakes her head, and stares out the window at it blankly. She doesn’t recognize it, but it all seems to fit.
“Is everything alright?” the driver asks her again.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, thank you so much for driving me here. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.” She reaches for the door latch, pulls and eases herself out through the opening.
As she closes the door, another thought occurs to her. She taps on the window, and it rolls down.
“Yes?”
“I just wondered. How did you know where I parked?” She leans down to look through the window at the driver, and notices for the first time the long dark hair and deeply shadowed eyes. The driver’s odd smile looks familiar, and makes her take a step back. “Who are you? Do I know you?”
“You should really think about going to the hospital,” she says, and pulls away from the curb.
Clutching the keys and her backpack, she watches the car vanish around the corner. “That was weird,” she thinks. “I have got to get out of this place.” She walks to the car, still not completely sure it’s her rental, but the key fits and she breathes a sigh of relief as she sits in the car. It turns over, and she pulls away to head back to the highway. Another hour and she’ll be back to the hotel.
****
Once she realizes the yelling has stopped and the room is quiet again, she opens her eyes. It is still dim in the room, but brighter than it was earlier, and she is surprised to recognize the place. This time the dream has taken her back to her hotel room in, where was it the woman said, Rocky Beach? At least she knows now it is only a dream, and once she wakes up everything will be fine.
She can’t help but wonder why she is so tired that she keeps falling asleep and falling back into the same dream. She just wants to get back to the real hotel in the real Rocky Beach, so she can pack and catch her plane back home. She doesn’t like this dream place, and only partly because it is too vivid and frightening. The other part is that her face hurts very badly, and she’s never had a dream like this before, where she feels the pain as if she was awake.
At least the scary man is gone now. And it seems as if he had untied the strap around her chest before he left. She can move her arms around now, and this time she is able to reach up to touch her sore cheek. It feels wet, and when she looks at her fingers in the dim light, they are covered in a dark liquid.
She wipes her fingers on her other sleeve. She notices that she is wearing her yellow sweater, the one she had laid out to wear for her flight home. She had chosen it because it was soft enough to keep her warm on the cool airplane, but thin enough to be comfortable.
Interesting, that the dream has changed, she thinks, to go along with her journey back to the hotel room. She can’t understand how she keeps falling into this dream, since she should still be on her way back to the hotel. Is she still sitting in her car in the Hopeville parking lot?
And she definitely doesn’t understand why she is bleeding in her dream. If she is still in her hotel room, wearing her travelling home sweater, she must have made it back from her trip to Hopeville. Or did she have the sweater in her backpack, and change on her drive back to the hotel?
She decides that if this is a dream, none of the details matter. She just needs to wake up. Maybe if she unties the strap around her legs, she can just get up, open the curtains and let the light in. Maybe a bit of sunlight will do the trick.
She fights the tiredness this idea brings, determined not to sink back into sleep. She pushes herself up on her elbows, and feels a pressure on her forehead, as if someone is pressing her back but there is nobody in the room with her. She reaches up with her right hand, and feels a cool smooth surface above. She can’t see it, but it is there. It doesn’t make sense.
Light, she thinks. More light is needed. She feels around for her backpack, certain she she’ll find a small penlight in there, attached to her housekeys. She does. She lies back down, exhausted, and shines the light above her. At first all she sees is the same dim hotel room ceiling as before. Then she notices as she moves it around, that the point of light is moving down, not across the ceiling as it should.
This is wrong. Even for a dream, this is wrong, and she knows it. She catches her breath, and it comes out as a sob. No, she can’t panic. She will stay calm, and figure this out. She should be able to wake up. Why can’t she?
She tries to remember every expression about dreaming she knew, but only two come to mind. “Pinch me, I must be dreaming”, followed by the old warning, “never wake up a sleepwalker”. Is she a sleepwalker, or is she dreaming?
By process of elimination, she had stopped walking when she found her car, gotten in and driven to the hotel, right? Or did she just dream that? She doesn’t remember actually arriving at the hotel. But here she is.
So maybe she is dreaming. And if she pinches herself, she will wake up and be back in the car, in the parking lot, after having a little nap. But as much as she wants that to be true, she doesn’t think it explains how the light could be acting so wrong. Her eyes are open. Even in dreams there has to be some logic.
She decides to go with the dream theory. A pinch, then. Despite her logic, she hesitates. Her entire day has gone poorly, and she isn’t sure she wants to know. Even this scary dream might be better. She thinks of the yelling man’s face, and shakes her head. She’ll take her chances and go back to the car. She closes her eyes, raises her right hand.
The pinch hurts her left arm. It hurts more than she expects.
And she wakes up. Really wakes up.
The hotel ceiling is no longer above her face. Instead, in the dimness, she sees a concrete wall slanting down about 2 feet above her face. The left side of her face begins to sting again, and she reaches over to touch a sharp edged chunk that would have crushed her head, if it had landed just inches to the right. She reaches down, still feeling as if her legs are strapped in, realizes they are partly pinned beneath some rubble.
But she is still alive. To the right, she can see underneath the line of cars that holds up what is left of the parking floor from the level above. All around her, crumbled pillars, bent rebar poking out at odd angles, chunks of cement, and cars.
Panic starts to rise again, and to calm herself she repeats, as a kind of mantra, pinch me I must be dreaming, over and over, as she looks around her. She is tempted to go back to sleep, even if she has to dream the scary dream of the angry, yelling man, who she now knows caused the bomb to explode.
She remembers the dream sounds of footsteps pounding, the voices yelling, and wonders if anyone knows she is there. She is afraid to move. She can’t feel her legs, there are sharp stones under her back, and her face stings.
She is just feet from the stairwell, where the man stood and blocked her from leaving. Because she had seen him. Rummaging in her backpack for her keys, she had surprised him there. He backed away from her. Pushed the button.
She cranes her head back. She can see a square of opening under the leaning floor. If she can free her legs, she might be able to get out. She looks down, and they look bad. There is blood, and she can see there is little space. She has to be careful not to disturb anything. But she isn’t able to get free.
She thinks now about bad timing, how she arrived back late at the hotel after her day of shopping in Hopewell. She should have been back earlier, but she stayed around to watch the sunset glow across the river, admiring the rocky beach and feeling sorry to leave.
The parking garage is dim, and this time, her dreams are quiet. So quiet, that this time she is able to hear the voices calling her name, even through her sleep. She is tempted to just let go, knowing the pain will be gone, and she will stop feeling so tired. But then she remembers someone with long dark hair, deeply shadowed eyes and her own smile, telling her, “You should really think about going to the hospital.” This time she yells back, sheds the dream as she feels herself dragged along the ground, the stones and hard bits under her back.
She is lifted onto a stretcher, and one medic puts an oxygen mask on her as another straps her in. The morning sun is bright, too bright, and she turns her head away. There is a clunk from the wheels as the stretcher is lifted, tilting her head up, and she glimpses the forest-lined roadway. The ambulance doors close her in. Another road trip.
LMC – 2024
