The Proposal

Hello, Friends!

Welcome to my blog, first of all. It's nice to have you here! I apologize for the sideways pictures. That's Ryan, and I'm not savvy enough with computers to know how to turn them right-side-up. In these pictures he's showing off his new hat that he got for Christmas. Can I just say- I like this guy a lot? :)

I've been promising everyone the story of Ryan's proposal, so I'm writing it here where I can add in all sorts of mushy details. :)

For those of you who don't know, last November I started dating one Ryan Roberts. He's in my ward. We'd had a few fun conversations over the summer, but he had a girlfriend and so we had both sortof looked past each other. Then, one day in October, we talked again and I discovered that he had broken up with said girlfriend, and, in one of the greatest miracles of my life, he started looking at me as someone to ask on a date.

Well, one thing led to another, and at the beginning of February he proposed. This is how it happened:

We are both quite busy, what with work and school, and neither of us is terribly good at planning dates. So on Thursday, we were sitting on the couch, trying to figure out what to do with our weekend. We finally settled on going to an early movie after I got home from work. "Then," he announced, "I want to go on a walk with you." I must admit, right there I figured he had something up his sleeve, because, while we have been on several walks before, who plans a walk a day in advance? But he'd said before that he wanted to date for several months before proposing to a girl, so I didn't let myself think that it was anything terribly serious.

Sadly, work that day went late. I called him after I had finished teaching my classes and we still had an entire barn to clean. I told him that the movie might not work, and he told me that we'd actually been invited to go play games with a couple of his married friends, instead. That sounded fun, so after I got home and cleaned up, we went to go see Nathan and Esther. The four of us just ended up talking in their living room for about an hour. It was nice. They were fun. They built a small rocket in their living room and we watched it go off a couple times. Engineers. Go figure. :)

As we left, Nathan reminded Ryan of a tarp he'd wanted to borrow. We all went down to Ryan's car and he pulled out the tarp for Nathan. I thought nothing of it, really. Boys borrow tarps, I guess. Anyway, we went back to the apartment complex for the long-awaited walk. We both made sure we had coats. (After all, it was 11:00 at night in the middle of winter!) And so, bundled up as we were, we went out on a walk we had been on a few times before. We went up close to the mountains, and wound down through some residential streets. I don't remember much of what we talked about that night, but the conversation was easy and friendly. As we reached the top of Seven Peaks Boulevard, we stood there for a moment looking at the mountains. "Shall we go on an adventure?" he asked. "Sure," was my witty reply.

We walked a grand total of ten steps through the snow and there, behind the cement pilings which denoted the end of the road was: the tarp. It was all folded up, and I was, admittedly, slightly confused. "Oh, look what we have here!" Ryan said, unsuccessfully acting surprised. He reached down and pulled a bouquet of flowers out of the tarp. He gave them to me, and I gushed and did the girly thing. It really was very sweet. I liked it. He asked me if the flowers were okay, and I said, "Yes, they're beautiful!" "I have one more question to ask you," he said. I looked up at him, and he asked, "Chelsea, will you marry me?"

Well, after telling myself so firmly that he was not going to ask me anytime soon, I must admit it took me off guard. I hugged him, but only replied, "I think so." I'm sure we kissed, but I must admit, I don't really remember at this point...

Anyway, we started walking back home, but twenty feet down the road, I sat down in the middle of the street. Can I tell you how wonderful he is? He came and sat right next to me. We sat there and just talked about things for a few minutes. I told him I was aware that I had not given him a straight answer, but I wanted a little time to think about it. He told me he understood, and he was completely okay with it. I'm not sure how long we would have stayed there, but our posteriors started to revolt against the cold asphalt, so we stood up and walked home, all the while talking about options and making small decisions like when we would like to get married. (We agreed that the sooner we could get married, the better.)

That night as we talked and prayed together in my apartment, I knew that I would agree to marry him. It felt right. But I still wanted some time to wrap my mind around it, so I didn't tell him at that point.

Okay, this next part requires some back story. I'm sure most people who read this already know that I work at Heritage Schools, which is a treatment center for troubled youth. I teach them how to ride horses and, though at times I complain about the way things are at work, I completely love what I do. And my favorite horse there is Elemeno. He is my baby, and has been from very shortly after we bought him. He's beautiful, and smart, and willing. I've spent hours and hours and hours working with, training, riding, feeding, caring for, and learning about that horse. We had many fun times together.

Well, on Christmas Eve last year, he was found laying down in his stall with his leg swollen from hip to hoof. We had no idea what had happened to him, but we took him to the vet, who gave us some antibiotics and other medications to give him. We did everything we could for him, but he just kept getting worse. He wouldn't put weight on that back leg, and the infection in his leg settled down near his hoof where it burst out of his skin. It was awful. It looked like his leg was rotting off. Along with the medications, we also had to wrap his leg to keep the exterior wounds clean. We took him to the vet several times, and on the last time, he came up with a new treatment. See, El couldn't put weight on his leg because there was scar tissue built up around his tendon which prevented it from stretching it the way it needed to. To fix that problem, we put him on painkillers, slathered his leg in something like Bengay and soaked it in hot water and epsom salts to loosen the tissue, and made him walk for 10-30 minutes every day. This treatment would essentially encourage him to put as much weight as possible on that foot and thus stretch it out in such a way that he would eventually be able to use his leg again.

Being his "mom", I had learned how to do all his medications and treatments. That Saturday, which was the day after Ryan had proposed and I had so nicely left things undecided, I went in to work. There were just two of us there that day; we didn't need many people there for the Saturday shift. I helped with barn chores for awhile, then did El's treatment. I had worked him pretty hard the day before, and he was understandably very sore, so as soon as I was done I took him to his stall to let him rest. A few minutes later, the other girl that was working with me told me that his bandage was coming off. I grabbed some tape and went to fix it. I opened his stall door to find him laying very peacefully on the ground. He seemed happy enough, but lying on the floor two feet away from him was his hoof. It had completely fallen away from his bone.

It was quite a shock to see it, actually. I walked away and told the other girl to go look at it. When she came back to the office, she said, "We have to put him down, Chelsea." I knew that, but facing the fact is awful. We called our boss, but couldn't get ahold of her. She had left for the weekend to celebrate her anniversary. We called in a couple of the other barn girls, and the vet, and I called Ryan. Of course I was crying when I called him. Poor guy, he had a tense few seconds there, before I told him why I was crying. He was very sympathetic, and offered to come in to see me. I told him no, and he told me to come over to his apartment when I got home.

The vet was really good. He helped me with El, who was so good. We had to load him into the trailer before we gave him the shot, otherwise we would have had a very hard time getting the body out of his stall later. He stood right up, and went looking for hay, and had a bright, healthy look in his eye. I asked him to load into the trailer, which he did. It was heroic, really, given that he only had three legs. He never balked, or resisted or tried to get away. He was confused when we asked him to turn around in the trailer. We'd never asked him to do that before. But he was willing and did his best. I stood there while the vet gave him the first shot, and I stayed until El lunged backward, which is a normal reaction to the drug. I saw his eyes start to glaze over, and couldn't stay any longer. I walked away and let the other barn girls deal with it. I was told later that it was good that I walked away, because it took him about ten minutes to die, and was hard to watch even for those who were not so attached to him.

I helped bring the other horses in for the night, then left the other barn chores for the other girls. I was emotionally exhausted. When I went home, I didn't bother to clean up. I went straight to Ryan's apartment, still dirty and smelly and with my face red from crying. Ryan just held me and let me cry and talk on his shoulder. He was so good to me.

When I could finally talk about other things, he told me that my roommates had mentioned to a few people in the ward that he had proposed, and that most of the ward probably knew already. I was glad that I'd known the night before that I was going to tell him yes, because I was in no condition to think about anything seriously at that point. "Well, then, we better make it official. Yes, I will marry you," was my reply. That time we did kiss, and then I cried some more.

So, the proposal itself was very sweet. The weekend in general was awful. But I'm so excited to marry him. Time is flying, but somehow not quite fast enough. We have a thousand things to do for the wedding, and all we want to do is be married.

Let's see... I suppose most people haven't really met him, so let me tell you a little bit about him. He's 23, going to BYU, and majoring in Electrical Engineering. He likes politics, and carving, and camping, and skiing. He loves to be outdoors, and has a decent seat when he rides horses and is looking forward to doing endurance rides with me after he builds me a barn and gets me some horses. He is kind and gentle and at the same time knows his opinions and holds to them regardless of peer pressure. We can wrestle and joke and plan and cook and read and do puzzles and walk and talk so well it's amazing. Somehow he says all the right things and asks all the right questions, simply because he is who he is. And he loves me. Remarkable as it is, he completely loves me.

So, we're getting married on April 25th in the Oakland Temple in California. We're having a reception in California that day, and then spending the next few days in Monterey. Spring classes start on Tuesday, so we'll be back for that. That Friday will be our second reception in Salt Lake, and the next day we will have our third reception in Idaho. Our colors are purple and yellow, which I never thought I would pick, but visions opened in my head, and everything clicked. It'll be fun, though, for a spring wedding in California.

Anyway, I'll try to post pictures of the wedding and festivities and all. I love you all, and hope you have enjoyed this story in my life. Keep in touch!

A Bit of Angst

Right now, I have the Tomb Raider soundtrack playing on my stereo, wishing desperately that I didn't have neighbors next to me, below me, kitty-corner to me... it could be worse. I could be stuck in a Thai prison after being falsely accused of drug smuggling like in Brokedown Palace. I should not be angry. My roommates, though they encroached on space that I had only borrowed to begin with, are very nice people. I've even met a really nice guy that gave me one of the best nights I've had since being here in Provo. I am coming closer to the things that I want, albeit very, very slowly.

Tonight is just one of those nights when I feel completely trapped. There are people all around me. I can't escape them. I'm not supposed to escape them. I'm supposed to go to movies and barbecues and enjoy spending time doing absolutely nothing with them. It's a measure of my distaste that I opted instead to come back to my apartment, play music that I don't normally play or like, and clean. People usually do that when they're procrastinating doing their homework. I tire of the game. I can't do the typical girl flirty thing with any measure of honesty. All I can do is be myself. And I like that. I like who I am, and I like being honest with myself and with others. A part of me fears, at this point, that I am getting too rough and brusque, but I find that I no longer really care. There are times when I am sure I'm not fit to be with people.

Goodwill Toward All

Half an hour into my trip, I was still marvelling over the wonder that is the automobile and, in particular, that I have one and with it the ability to roam. I drove for four hours until I reached a beautiful little cabin in a picturesque meadow surrounded by trees and grass and streams. The air was thin and clear. I was greeted by the yapping of a little dog answering to the name of Lacey. More importantly, my wonderful friend Jen was there with her parents, her cousin, and her grandparents, whom I met last year when I went up to the same cabin.

We had a couple hours in which we took the horses on a walk just to stretch their legs- and mine. We ate. We planned. We changed our clothes and saddled the horses. Then Jen, her mom, and I went on a ride. It was short by their standards- a mere 12 miles. Barely enough to break a sweat. The day was beautiful. The sky was a pale blue. The sun shone through the thin atmosphere with an intesity to burn the skin but a temperature that was deceptively cool. Wind, just enough to tease the imagination, stirred the trees on either side of us. The roads and trails we took were varied enough that we had to switch often from walking to trotting and back again, and a couple times we were able to canter. My horse, Bolero, was a good old boy. He was twenty years old and had a lot of experience with trails, trail rides, and feats of endurance. He also knew the minute we turned back to go home. He suddenly got very excited about moving and fought with me almost the whole way home. Since the other two horses were spooking about every log laying on the ground, Bolero and I took the lead for much of the way home. It was wonderful fun.

Of course, with my riding experience for the last few years being limited to mostly an arena, I was not in shape for such a ride. My knees began to ache halfway through, and when I dismounted I almost fell. Well, maybe it wasn't quite that bad, but it was awhile before I could walk completely normally again. My abs hurt. My back hurt. My shoulders hurt. I was dead tired. Fortunately, there wasn't much to do there. We did the chores. I showered and ate. We all read a little bit by the light of gas lanterns, and then I slept. There was no tv. There was no phone. There was no electricity except what we brought that was battery-powered. I had left my music in my car, and was unencumbered by the continuous stream of information into my weary brain. That night, I slept well, but was still stiff when I awoke.

The next day was Sunday. We went to Church in a cute little church building that was a twenty minute drive from the cabin. My mind was open and ready to learn new ideas. We benefitted in Sacrament Meeting and Relief Society from the words and experiences and spirits of all different age groups. An eight-year-old sang the most beautiful song about Christ's baptism that brought tears to my eyes in Sacrament Meeting. Relief Society was shaped by the wisdom of women that have raised families of their own and are now able to help their own children and us of the younger generation in raising their families. I remembered how much I love and revere lives fully lived and minds that have seen and done much.

The rest of the afternooon was occupied with quiet reading, sleeping, and walking outside enjoying the magnificent beauty God has shared with us. Of course we brought some of the bustle of the city with us, but there nature is so much bigger than we are. It engulfs us, slows us down, and helps us remember how to breathe, how to think, how to feel.

Sunset found me and Jen out on the back porch, sitting stock still, taking turns holding our fingers under one of the bird feeders. The hummingbirds there are so brave they would come and sit on our fingers while they drank the nectar. There is nothing quite like the feel of their tiny feet on your skin and being able to watch their feathers glinting in the sunlight. Their tongues are so small, and they move so fast! They are remarkable little birds.

That evening we played a rousing game of Aggravation which, up there, had the feel of an epic, if friendly, battle between the forces of Red, Green, Blue and Yellow. We played on teams. Jen's grandparents beat us, but it was a close call. For awhile, we were all sure Jen and I would win. Alas, such was not to be!

With my muscles calmer from a day of quiet activity, I slept very well that night. The next day, work called me back to civilization and I had to leave fairly early. I had ripped my pants when I rode Bolero, so I drove back in my skirt from Sunday. I hadn't showered in two days, but somehow I wasn't terribly worried about the smell. After all, I would be spending four hours in a car with no air conditioning and worrying about the smell I would produce would do me no good whatsoever. Sadly, halfway down the mountain I looked out my rearview mirror and noticed suspicious fumes coming from the back of my car. I also noticed that the Check Engine Light had come on, and I smelled burnt rubber coming from something. I have virtually no mechanical skills myself. I get this from my dad who, once, when his car broke down, lifted the hood and, when he saw the engine was still there, decided everything was okay. Apparently the power of suggestion worked for him, because he started the car just fine and drove down the road.

At just over a quarter of a tank, I decided I needed to get gas and check the oil, as this is the extent of my own skill with the inner workings of the wonder that is the automobile. I made an interesting picture, I'm sure, with my purple skirt blowing in the wind as I did my best not to pour oil all over the engine while trying to get it into the little hole into which it belonged. Just then, I heard a wonderful sound. "Do you need help?" I turned and, lo and behold, it was a man dressed in the characteristic jumper of a mechanic. He looked in the engine, and under it, and smelled the fluids that were draining onto the hot concrete. He had me pull up to the shop where he worked where he jacked up my car and climbed underneath it. I prayed he would have the inspiration to be able to fix the problem enough for me to get home. He did. It turns out that my main problem was just a few bolts that were suspiciously loose and needed to be tightened. This would prevent the oil and transmission fluid from leaking so badly and spraying onto the rest of the car, which then burnt off the offending liquid and smelled like burning rubber. He didn't charge me anything and was so nice about it all, notwithstanding my almost complete ignorance. His act of kindness saved me much worry and inner turmoil. All I know about him is that his name is Casey and that he has a kind heart, skill with a car, and he's not going to school right now. I wish him all the best and hope that all those he comes in contact with take with them a smile and goodwill toward all those with whom we share this world.

Upon arriving home, I took a shower, then bought myself some new pants and food to last me a week. I watched some tv and noticed how much it affected my thoughts and my mood. No wonder I can't calm down. Flashes of light and sound move by so quickly there is no time to think- only to absorb. I went to FHE, then got rid of my tv. I don't need that in my life, for the most part. Of course, I promptly turned to my computer which is blaring country music into my ears and from which I can access any information I may desire. Quite soon I will probably be acquiring a cell phone. I already rue the day, but have decided that in this particular society it is almost a necessecity. I live in the society, and to do so is my choice. I do so with full purpose of heart and mind. I do love people, and will give in the best ways I know how. One of those ways is to be accessible for those who need me. Very well, I accept that, and do so gladly. In many ways I would be lost without it.

But there is a part of me that longs for the peace and tranquility and hugeness of the mountains, of the sea, of the sky, of a flower, a hive of bees, of a bird sitting on your finger, of being able to see the stars at night and the clear blue sky during the day. There is nothing in the business and the biggness and the structure of civilization that can quite compare with the feeling of standing in the middle of an open field with the wind blowing your hair and the sun on your face and the smell of pine in your nose and letting yourself just feel the moment that has been thousands of years in the making, and knowing that, in letting your thoughts slide away, you are opening the door to inspiration from the Great Creator of all.

Dreamworlds, Chapter 7

She woke up naturally a few hours later. She remembered having a couple dreams after the one where she went to the base, but they had been normal dreams, where she didn't feel pain. It took a few moments for her head to clear, but it was scarcely a minute before she realized what she had done. That last dream was the one they had been looking for. They had waited for her to surrender, and then counted on the fact that when placed in familiar surroundings, she would seek out a friendly face. And she had done exactly as they'd expected. She had caved in, ignoring the fact that she didn't know how she'd gotten on that mountain in the first place. She'd been so tired of being alone, so tired of fighting, that she had led them right where they wanted to go.

Krystle could have screamed. What had she done? She had betrayed everything she believed in! She had surrendered, and given her enemy exactly what they wanted. She felt a knot in the pit of her stomach and her chest tightened in fear. "This is a problem to be dealt with," she tried to tell herself, but for the first time she didn't really believe it. This time, it was a catastrophe.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're awake," said the nurse, bustling into the room. "You slept for a long time."

"Yeah, thanks for waking me up," Krystle said bitterly. She didn't have the energy to fight anymore. The nurse busily checked the monitors by the bed and didn't respond to Krystle's sarcastic comment.

"Did you get everything you wanted?" Krystle asked dully after a moment of silence.

"Yes. There's a team out there right now. They'll bring all your friends in and get information from them, as well." She said it casually, as if she didn't realize that everything Krystle held dear was being destroyed.

"Why not just use me to get the rest of what you need?" she asked. "Why do you have to put the rest of us through this hell?"

"You know too much about the dream. You were able to twist it around and control things that nobody ever has before." She turned from her work and looked directly at Krystle. "You were supposed to confide in Jason, but you turned the conversation around and almost got information from him, instead." The nurse turned back to the monitors. "I've never seen anything like it." There was a note of admiration in her voice, but she continued with her tasks in a very businesslike manner.

That victory was small consolation to Krystle. After all, they'd beaten her in the end. She hadn't been able to remember; she hadn't thought clearly enough, and as a result, the revolution would die. Her friends and family would die. Freedom itself would die.

The nurse filled up the IV. Krystle glanced up at it as the tube was attached to the needle in her arm. "More drugs?" she asked.

"No," replied the nurse. "This one just has nutrients in it. The director wants you awake and aware when he talks to you."

"Joy," Krystle muttered. "When will this little interview happen?" she asked.

"It should be within the hour, I think," the nurse answered.

Krystle sighed. "Then what?" she asked.

The nurse just looked at her.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Lethal injection, right?"

"Krystle, you're a traitor. You couldn't have expected anything less." The nurse was tight-lipped and businesslike, and her eyes were cold.

"Will it be you who does it?" Krystle asked.

"Yes," she replied shortly.

Krystle just nodded. There didn't seem to be anything left to say. The nurse finished what she was doing and left the room, her high heels clicking sharply on the floor. Krystle didn't watch her go.

The warrior lay there in her bed, for once not struggling against her bonds. She kept imagining her friends, taken unaware and put into the same situations she had been in. Most would try to fight it, as she had. But none would overcome it. She could see no way to beat the dreamworlds. Even death was no escape, there. She saw her father in her mind's eye, struggling to understand what was happening, not understanding that the Coms controlled everything. Everything that he loved would die, and it was all her fault.

Krystle knew this line of thinking would never accomplish anything, but she didn't care. She let herself indulge in despair. What was the point of trying to do anything else? She had betrayed everything she loved, and she would die before the day was done. She would be only the first of many to die; her death would mean nothing.

The door opened and a tall man walked into her room. He closed it behind him deliberately and walked to the foot of her bed. For a moment he said nothing, and Krystle took the time to study his face. He had dark, short curly hair and a wide forehead. His eyes were a light hazel, set far apart. They bored into her, guaging her, evaluating her. His shoulders were wide and he walked with purpose and confidence. It was easy for Krystle to see why he was a director of the Com society. He emanated a powerful presence.

"Krystle Bordran," he said simply.

Krystle didn't answer.

He smiled. "I can understand why you're angry with me," he said. "But I do want to thank you."

"I'll bet."

"You've been invaluable to us. Not only did you help us keep our war going, but because of the information you provided us with, we are now able to crush any resistance."

"You're killing the very things that make life worth living," Krystle stated quietly.

"We are preserving life, and helping people to have a higher quality of living."

"But you take away people's choice. Under your rule, they no longer have the possibility of choosing what kind of life they want to live!"

"Most people don't even know the kind of life they should want. We simply educate them, and then make their lives possible."

"You can say whatever you want. You'll never convince me you're right."

He smiled again. "Defiant to the last. They told me you fight viciously for what you believe in."

Krystle didn't respond, reminded again that her fight had done no good.

The director looked at his watch. "I have to go," he said. "The crew that was sent to retrieve your friends will soon come back, and I intend to be there to greet them."

Krystle closed her eyes, determined not to let this man see her cry. She heard him turn and leave the room, again deliberately closing the door behind him. She waited until she was sure he was out of hearing, then she let out a heart-wrenching sob. Tears fell down her cheeks like rain, releasing the anguish that was tearing her apart.

It wasn't long after the director left that the nurse came back in. She walked to the counter and prepared a syringe full of a clear liquid. Krystle found it disturbing that the means for ending her life had been in the room she had inhabited for so long. The nurse walked over and added the contents of the syringe to the IV.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" the nurse asked quietly.

Krystle shook her head and stifled another sob. "How long?" she asked.

"I added a lethal dose of anesthesia to your normal IV. It'll take about an hour for it to hit your system and take effect."

"Will it hurt?"

"No," she replied. "You'll just fall asleep."

Krystle couldn't resist one last bitter comment at the woman. "So, you torture me for days on end, and then leave me to die without pain or glory or anything. You haven't even left me any kind of meaning to my life."

The nurse pursed her lips, then looked directly into Krystle's face. "You are a traitor, and you deserve everything you've gotten. Serving as your nurse for the past five weeks has been the greatest way I could fulfill my duty to my country. I'm honored that I was the one chosen to end your life." With that, she lifted her chin and quickly walked out of the room.

Krystle watched her go, anger boiling within her chest. Not at the woman, for she probably didn't know any better, but at the director, and at his father, and everybody who'd had a part in destroying their country. She hated them, hated the ignorant people who had allowed it to happen, hated herself for not being able to stop it, or to fix it, or to fight it.

She lay there watching the hands move on the clock and thinking about the life she had lived, all the fights she had fought, the things she had believed in, and the friends she had had. It didn't seem to amount to much, now. The minutes passed and she eventually stopped counting them. The end would come soon enough. She felt a deep despair for the friends she had betrayed and the causes she had failed to protect. She let her tears fall freely. She had accepted her own death years before, when she had begun to fight her war, but she had never dreamed she would feel so alone, so helpless, so hopeless. She began to feel the drugs coursing through her veins as they took effect. She didn't try to fight it. Her thoughts became hazy, giving her a blessed release from the guilt of betrayal. Looking at the clock, she realized that forty-three minutes had passed since the nurse had left the room. Somehow, that seemed important, but she couldn't hold on to it. She began to wiggle her fingers, became fascinated with the fact that they were so heavy. She could hardly lift them off the bed.

Krystle heard the door open a crack. She looked over at it dully.

"Krys!" came an excited voice.

She struggled to come back to her senses. She should know that voice. The door opened and a man walked in wearing a uniform of the Com army. He closed the door and walked quickly over to the bed.

"Krys, it's me..." his excitement was dimming, his face clouding over with worry.

Finally she recognized him. He looked different in the uniform. "Carson..." she mumbled, trying to smile up at him.

"I'm here to get you out," he said, pulling the IV out of her arm and the sensors off her skin.

"How?" Krystle found the wits to ask.

"I saw you get taken that night. I snuck away before they saw me." He smiled a small smile. "We couldn't come in and get you before this, but we knew they'd be coming for us sooner or later. We evacuated everybody from the base and posted guards. We had to wait until today before anything happened, but when the Coms finally came in to get us, we threw nerve gas in after them and closed the door. They never had a chance.

"But, now... you're here," Krystle queried weakly.

"We stole their uniforms. They think we're them, but our cover won't hold for very long." He glanced at her ashen face and began to ramble. "We need to move quickly, Krys. We've all been so worried about you. But we're here for you now, and you're getting out. We're all getting out and we're going underground. They won't find us again. They won't do this to you again. I promise." He was fighting to sound confident, but she could hear a pleading note in his voice.

Her consiousness began to fade. She fought against it, but her eyes closed and her breathing became deep and heavy.

"No, no, no!" Carson said, patting her face. "Don't you fade on me." His voice became desperate. Krystle could hear it dimly, fighting with the drugs for her mind. "You've always fought, Krystle. Don't you dare give up now! You've got to wake up!"

She wanted to. She wanted to open her eyes and tell him everything, ask him how he was there, tell him to be careful... The thought struck her that the ideals she had fought for would not die with her. Her brother lived; that meant others of the revolution were still alive, too. They would go on. They would fight for the cause that had taken her life. She managed a small smile before her muscles relaxed and she lost all control over her body. The last thing she heard before her life slipped away was Carson's anguished voice from far away. "I fight for you, Krystle. We all fight for you."

The End

Dreamworlds, Chapter 6

Krystle stepped through the doorway and the world behind her vanished. She opened her eyes... and almost screamed. "It didn't work," she whimpered. "It didn't work." Stretched out before her was an endless dark, cold and unfeeling.

Then a soft breeze rustled her hair and she felt something tickle her leg. Lightening flared in the distance and briefly illuminated the landscape. "Crap!" she exclaimed. "It did work!" And then she was running.

In that moment of light Krystle had seen plains stretched out before her. There was no shelter to be seen, and the monsters had been turning to look at her, nostrils flared. She had not gotten a good look, but they had seemed to be eight feet tall, traveling in a pack, and hungry.

Lightning flashed again, and Krystle surveyed the territory before her. It was as she thought. Nothing she could use. Even the grass, though long, was sparse and would offer her no cover. "They can probably smell me anyway," she thought grimly. She could hear them behind her. It felt like a stampede was on her heels, making the ground vibrate with every step.

Out of habit, she analyzed her situation. She was faster than them, but she was losing stamina and wouldn't last at this speed for much longer. The creatures behind her showed no signs of slowing. Her hands went to her belt to search for weapons. She found only a small knife. She smiled. Frightened as she was, she reveled in the feel of air in her lungs, blood pounding through her veins, the fear and anticipation of battle giving her strength. She took the knife out of its sheath and ran with her fingers gripped around the handle, ready to fight should the monsters overtake her. Yes, she was afraid, but this was a battle she knew how to fight. She didn't know how long she'd been here, how long she'd been running from these monsters, but she could remember nothing else. For now, this was her life, and she reveled in it.

There was a snarl behind her, and Krystle glanced back over her shoulder. Another bolt of lightning hit the earth and she once again saw the creatures behind her. They had begun to fight amongst themselves for the lead, but they hadn't slowed at all. Krystle kept running, no longer quite as fast as when she had begun. As she ran, she began to notice that it was easier to see. Glancing around, she realized that the lightning was coming faster, each new bolt shooting down before the last had truly had time to fade. Thunder cracked and rolled overhead in a deafening roar that almost drowned out the sound of the creatures behind her. She expected to feel putrid breath on her neck at any moment, but it never came. It was then that she realized they were toying with her, allowing her to run until she couldn't put up a fight, and then they'd attack.

Krystle slowed her run until she was able to stop sharply and turn to face them. Her breathing was fast and ragged, but she faced them with her back straight, knife raised against the first to challenge her. The creatures slowed, but didn't halt their pursuit. They fanned out, surrounding her. She could hear them shuffling around and snarling in the dark. Krystle stood there, knife up, panting, waiting for the first attack.

It was only a moment before the first one rushed her from the right, arms outstretched, teeth bared. A vicious snarl tore from his throat, challenging her to fight back. Its black eyes glowed yellow in the dim light, and in them Krystle saw the deathly determination of a predator ready to take its kill. Krystle distanced herself from her fear, focused only on the movements of her enemy, carefully guaging every aspect of its attack. It moved rapidly, but Krystle was ready. She sidestepped the creature, slashing at its back with her knife as it rushed by her. It fell into the group of monsters slavering after fresh meat on the other side of the circle. They showed no mercy, even to their own kind The blood from the monster that had attacked her drove them into a frenzy, and within moments it was on the ground, throat torn open, gasping desperately for a last breath. But then they ignored him, left him on the ground to die while they pursued their true quarry. The entire circle advanced toward her, each one craving her death.

Krystle knew the fight was hopeless, but she faced them anyway, turning in a slow circle, knees bent slightly, ready to counter any attack. She heard a rush behind her and whirled to face the advancing monster. She didn't move fast enough to get out of its way, however, and the creature ran full-force into her shoulder, knocking her down and raking her back with its clawed hand. Krystle rolled and jumped back up to her feet. She knew well what would happen if she stayed down. Fast as she moved, however, she had still given the creatures a chance to come closer. As she came up, her knife flashed in the lightning and she drew blood from three monsters before the rest backed off enough to give her room to move. Krystle's back was on fire. She could feel blood soaking her shirt and rolling down into her pants; the creatures were becoming more vicious in response to the smell.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Krystle knew what she had to do. Though it went against all her training, all her instincts, the decision was made before she could think about it. Her heart pounding, she stood straight and tall and spread her arms open wide. She dropped her knife in a gesture of surrender, wincing slightly when she heard it hit the ground. She didn't know why, but she knew it was right. The monsters didn't hesitate. As they rushed her, she sank to her knees and held her breath, waiting to feel sharp teeth and claws sinking into her flesh. She refused to close her eyes, preferring to face these creatures, and the horror that had become her life, with defiance to the last.

But something changed. The ground beneath her bare knees turned hard and cold. Glancing down, Krystle found that she was kneeling on a silver door that flashed and gleamed in the lightning. And there, etched on the door right in front of her knees, was a diamond inscribed in a circle. It was there to save her, and she knew it, but she didn't care. She looked back up to face the demons before her, ignoring the salvation beneath her knees.

Time seemed to slow down for Krystle as she watched the creatures rushing forward. She saw every detail with minute clarity. The cratures were snarling and fighting each other in their haste to be the first to reach her. In a matter of milliseconds she lost any chance of defending herself against the attack. They were on her, knocking her to the ground. One had its teeth clamped on her foot and was dragging her off the door, but another had hold of her arm and was trying to pull her off the other way. Suddenly she couldn't do it anymore. She could smell their rancid breath on her and feel unrelenting teeth piercing into her skin, and she couldn't bear to give in. Terror and determination flowed through her veins, giving her the strength she needed to fight back. With her free hand, she reached for her knife. She felt the blade with her fingertips and lunged for it. She sliced open her fingers when she grabbed it, but she barely felt the pain. Reaching across her body, Krystle swiped the knife at the creature hanging onto her arm. She sliced its nose, making it yelp in pain and jump back, freeing her arm. She tried to sit up to attack the monster chewing on her foot, but before she could move another creature attached itself to her tender midsection. She felt her muscles tearing apart and knew she would never be able to get the monster off her foot. She stabbed at the creature tearing at her stomach, plunging her knife deep into its eye. It reated back, howling in pain and tearing the knife from Krystle's hand. Losing no time, Krystle felt around frantically for the symbol on the door. Her hands were covered in blood and slid around on the slick surface, and she passed over the symbol twice before she felt the grooves in the metal. She felt a straight line beneath her fingertips, and traced enough of it to be able to find the middle. The monster was lunging back down toward her as she placed her hand in the center of the diamond.

"Open sesame," she gasped weakly. The door opened underneath her and she went tumbling through, dragging one of them with her and leaving the others to snap their jaws on thin air. The one hanging onto her leg desappeared as the door closed behind them, and her wounds healed as memory of the world she had just escaped faded from her mind.

She landed hard. She didn't know how far she had fallen, but even though she rolled, she still had the wind knocked out of her. She lay there for a moment, unable to move, gasping desperately for breath. It came painfully and suddenly, and she coughed at the sudden rush of wind into her lungs. Krystle lay on the ground, panting and waiting for her breathing to return to normal. As she lay there, she turned her head, trying to determine where she was. The sun was high overhead, and its light trickled down through the trees to play on the ground below. She could ascertain nothing but that she was on a mountain, surrounded by pine trees and granite rock. When she could move again, Krystle rose to her feet and made her way silently to the closest boulder. It was large, and she only had to bend down slightly to stay covered behind it. She crouched down so she was sitting on her haunches; caution governed her every movement. She didn't know yet what would be waiting for her here. She looked at her surroundings, scrutinizing every shadow. When she was satisfied there was no threat to her, she moved around the rock, slowly, carefully, listening and watching for any sign of movement. Satisfied there was none, Krystle looked up and checked the sky, but there was no threat from above, either. She was alone.

Krystle stood up slowly and walked up the mountain, slightly confused. Birds fluttered from tree to tree above her head, and she saw squirrels scampering around, gathering nuts and chattering at one another. Amidst all the activity, Krystle felt herself becoming strangely calm and peaceful. She knew nobody was watching her, that there was no reason to fear anything. It seemed as though for the first time in her life, she could breathe deeply and had nothing to worry about. She walked through the morning, enjoying the warm spring air and thinking about nothing. She found a trail and followed it for awhile, wondering idly where it would lead her.

An hour later she found herself in a meadow, following the path of a mountain stream. She reached a plateau and stopped to drink at a small pond. She sat on a boulder, soaking her feet in the icy cold water and watching waterbugs skittering over the surface. Krystle glanced down into the valley by the mountain and saw thick foliage covering the ground. The pine trees grew tall and were slightly denser there than anywhere else she had seen on the mountain. Overall, it was no different than any other valley, but something about it struck her. Suddenly she wasn't just alone; she was lonely. She felt as though she hadn't seen a friendly face in years, and that was only a part of the pain that suddenly engulfed her. She walked down into the valley, not sure what she would find, but curious to know what was there.

Animal trails led her through bushes and around tree trunks to the valley floor. She reached the bottom and stood still for a moment, gazing up at the mountains surrounding her. She didn't know how, but she knew this place. She recognized the mountains around her. She looked down toward the end of the valley and knew that if she walked around that boulder...

The promise of finding a friend, of finding anybody that she knew, was too strong to be ignored. She glanced around out of habit to see if she'd been followed, even though she knew she was alone, and then she started running. She reached the boulder quickly and was hardly out of breath when she stopped in front of it. Once again she glanced over her shoulder, then slowly walked around the boulder. It revealed a path that wound up a canyon, as she had known it would. Krystle stayed off the trail, doing her best to step on rocks and fallen branches so she would not leave a trail of her own. It was one of many precautions each member of the revolution followed to keep from being discovered. Several yards in, Krystle saw the two pine trees grown together and broke away from the path the trail took. She angled up the mountain toward the trees. She climbed up, almost to the top, and walked out on one of the brances until she reached the granite wall beside her. There was a small rock shelf that she was able to step to easily from the branch. It was one of two ways to reach the opening of the cave they had dug for their base. The other way involved coming down from the top, but the chances of anybody finding the cave to begin with were very slim.

Krystle crouched down and crawled through the opening. She was immediately enveloped in darkness, but she kept going fearlessly. Ten feet in, she reached the end. The floor suddenly dropped out from underneath her. Krystle turned herself around and swung her legs over, lowering herself until she found the rungs of the ladder. Bracing her hands on the sides of the tunnel, Krystle moved down the dark shaft one rung at a time. She was sweating by the time she reached the bottom. It had been too long since she'd made this climb. Her feet touched the ground and she turned around. She walked forward confidently and reached for the doorknob she knew would be there. It was an old-fashioned hinge door, but didn't put off the electrical charge that could be detected. They tried to keep electrical impulses to a minimum to avoid any chance of being found. So far they had been successful. The walls inside were coated with rubber, which masked the impulses emanating from their computers. They had managed to avoid detection from the Coms and the leeches, freeloaders who would take advantage of anybody and never stayed in one place too long. They disgusted Krystle. But here... here she would find all her friends, her family, her ideals.

She opened the door and walked in, expecting to see the room lit up and bustling with activity. Instead, her world went black.

Dreamworlds, Chapter 5

The first sensation she had was cold, hard stone underneath her. She did not wake up. She had never slept. She was simply there, lying on the ground, in this world that had yet to be discovered. She opened her eyes, and for a moment thought that she had gone blind. The world around her was dark. Not dark, black. There was no light, and there had never been light. It was a void. The air would have been frigid, if she could have believed that there was air. She carefully avoided thinking about what she was breathing, afraid that if she thought too deeply she would lose that precious ability.

Krystle rose to a crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet, ready to move at a moment's notice. But the world was silent. It was eerie, as though everything around her was waiting for something. But there was nothing there to wait. It was a pervading sense of nothing, tensed and waiting for... something. She wanted to yell, to make her presence known, but something inside warned her that such an act might bring the something, and she was almost positive she did not want to meet it.

Slowly and cautiously, Krystle stood. She felt, almost knew, that her movement was a violation of some unspoken code, but nothing happened. She waited there, as tense as the darkness around her, waiting with it for whatever was to come, but as her heartbeats marked the passage of time and still nothing came, doubt and confusion started to plague her mind. What was there to fight in this world? Always before she had needed to fight. She didn't remember that, she simply knew it was true, knew her body and mind were trained for fighting. She took a step forward. Nothing. Another step. Nothing. Each step she took yielded the same result as the step before: a dead and ominous nothing. There was not even a sound to mark her passage.

She began to count her steps, realizing as she did so that it was the safest way to keep her mind occupied. Questions began to sound like bells in her mind. Where was she? Where was she going? How did this world exist? They played over and over in her mind, but she pushed them away, focusing only on the numbers. In some strange way, the counting kept her sane. It was something real, something certain. She knew what it meant to count, and she knew that as long as she kept counting, she would be safe.

"Five, six, seven, eight, nine..." the voice mocked her. Krystle whirled around, expecting to hear or see whoever was talking to her. But the utter blackness around her concealed her enemy perfectly.

"Who are you?" Krystle asked aloud. She couldn't hear the sound of her own voice. The realization shocked her. She tried again. "Who are you?" she said louder. But she heard nothing.

The voice began to laugh, mocking her fear and confusion. "Poor lady," it giggled. "Doesn't know yet that here she doesn't really exist..."

She was tempted to believe it. She could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but the cold seeping into her. It would be so easy to sit down and blend into the nothingness around her, to forget herself completely. To surrender.

But the thought of surrender evoked in her a fear more intense than the voice could ever arouse, and with that fear came determination and anger. She would not surrender! The force of feeling that washed over her at the word took her by surprise, but she clung to it, knowing it would help her survive.

"You are nothing, here, love," the voice continued. "There is nothing here for you to be."

Krystle pushed the voice out of her mind, determined to ignore it. She took a step forward, then another, and another. Stubbornly, she began to count again.

But she couldn't do it. With each step, with each heartbeat, the darkness grew heavier. She began to feel a deep despair. She could do nothing in a world where there was nothing. She couldn't fight. There was nothing here to challenge her, nothing for her to fight. There were only her steps. her steps and her numbers, and occasionally the voice in the darkness. She eventually realized that it was inside her head, and she hated it all the more. She knew it was madness, and the voice itself became her fight. It told her lies, and with every ounce of strength she had, she fought it. She reveled in the fight, afraid all the while that she would lose and never again know herself. But she knew that she fought, and she drew strength from the struggle against herself.

In her mind's eye, Krystle could see the path that she had taken, straight from the point where she had begun and stretching out into forever. For all she saw, she could be standing in the same place she had started. She laughed out loud at the thought for the ache in the legs said she had walked miles at least. But there was no sound. Her laughter was swallowed by the nothingness around her. That sobered her, but made the voice in her head begin to laugh maniacally. She silenced it ruthlessly, knowing it for madness, and abruptly sat down. In the moment when despair almost overtook her, Krystle defied all that was around her and thought. For the first time, she listened to the questions in her mind. Where was she? Where was she going? How did this world exist? She had no answers. This world couldn't exist. She could not be there. And yet she was. Krystle began to force her mind to work, to focus on something to help her solve this problem in which she found herself. It was like swimming through molasses. She felt as though she had never thought about anything, and now, when it was most critical, she had to teach herself to think and to somehow arrive at a solution.

She began by questioning everything. She took nothing for granted, and for every question she had she came up with as many answers as she could.

"Who am I?" she asked herself in the darkness.

For a long moment, there was no answer, neither from within nor from without. A voice began to whisper in her mind. She pushed it away at first, afraid of what it meant. But it was persistent. "I am human," it said with perfect clarity. It wasn't voice she had been fighting. It was steady and peaceful. "I am a woman," it reminded her. Krystle paid attention to the voice, recognizing that it spoke truth. The voice continued, "My name is Krystle." Krystle sounded it out in her mind, tried it on her tongue. It felt good. It felt true. "I am a soldier," the voice added. The thought surprised her, gave her courage and strength.

"No!" screamed the madness. "There is nothing! You are nothing!" She pushed the voice away, but it continued in an enticing whisper. "There is only me. Listen to me. My way is easy. There will be no more pain," it crooned to her. "Listen to me, and just let go." It wound like a snake through her thoughts, but she ignored it. "Let go of everything."

"I will not," she said aloud, imagining that she heard her voice in the darkness. She took a deep breath to calm herself, forced herself to ask another question.

"Am I dead?"

Again the voice in her mind soothed her. "No. I still have my body. The ache in my legs is real. Besides, Death would be more crowded than this." The thought was humorous, but she clung only to the logic of it, to the belief it lent her that she still lived and breathed.

"So where am I?" But her mind shied away. She couldn't face that one yet.

The madness laughed sadistically. "You'll never know," it whispered.

"Is this place real?" she persisted doggedly.

"It must be real," said the voice in her mind. "I am here. I am alive. Therefore, in some way, this place must be real."

"Unless you are mad. Not everything you see is real, you know," giggled the madness.

Krystle wanted to scream, to run away from the illogic in her mind that seemed to make so much sense. She didn't know what was real, what was true, what was illusion, what was there to lead her astray. But still she fought. "I am not mad," she told herself firmly. "Not yet. Not ever."

"Are you really sure?" it mocked her.

"Yes. I'm sure. I'm not mad."

"And who are you talking to?"

The question made her stop. Who was she talking to? Herself? She had not asked the question of herself. Had she? Did talking to madness itself make her mad?

"No," she said aloud. Again, there was no sound, but making herself move, making herself think about something outside of her mind calmed her somewhat. She closed her eyes and focused on her problem, on what she wanted to accomplish.

"What do I want to do?" she asked herself aloud, imagining she could hear every word she spoke with her ears, and not just in her mind.

"I want to get out of here," she answered her own question, again out loud.

"But where is here?" whispered the madness. She ignored it. It was not a voice she could have heard aloud.

"How should I get out?" She could almost hear the words. If she strained just a little harder, she knew she would hear them.

The voice in her mind, the one that knew the truth, whispered again. This time, Krystle voiced the words as they came to her. "There is always a door. If I find the door, I can leave."

The madness persisted. "There are no doors, here, love. Here, there is only me."

She feared it was true. But she chose to trust the voice she wanted to hear, the voice that gave her hope. "There is always a door," she repeated. Then she stopped. She had heard it that time. With her ears! She had heard what she said! Tentatively, she tried again. "If I find the door, I can leave." There was no mistaking it that time. She heard every word clearly as she spoke. She began to laugh, just to hear the sound of her voice. Tears of relief streamed down her face until lshe wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying, but she didn't care. It was so good to just hear a real sound, any sound. Her own voice had never sounded so sweet.

Hysterics finally turned to quiet sobbing. Krystle lay down on the hard ground beneath her and cried until her energy was spent. She knew she had to get up, to continue on. She had a door to find. But not now. She couldn't make herself move yet. She lay on the ground and let herself think about nothing. Even the madness inside her was quiet, respecting the emptiness of her mind.

It was out of this stillness that the voice returned. It wasn't the madness. It was the other voice, the one that told her truth. "I can hear," it said. The thought was happy.

"Yes," thought Krystle.

"How did that happen?" it queried.

"I don't know," she replied in her mind. Now that she knew she could hear, instinct once again reminded her to be silent, to give her enemies as little information as she could.

"Think about it," the voice prompted. Then it was gone.

"I don't want to." But once the question had been posed, she couldn't leave it alone. She had to know. She lay still, staring up at nothingness, thinking back through what had happened. She hadn't been able to hear anything but the voices in her mind, at first. It was when she had tried to shut one of them out, and she had begun talking to herself out loud, that her hearing had been restored. But neither action explained why she could suddenly hear again. Maybe the insanity had taken her after all, and she only imagined that she could hear. Maybe everything around her was still silent.

"I don't know," she said aloud, testing. her fear was confirmed. She heard nothing.

"No!" she screamed. Blind terror gripped her. "No! No! NO!" She sprang to her feet, almost falling forward on her face. "I can hear!" she screamed, trying to imagine it, to make herself believe it. She wanted so desperately to believe. "I CAN HEAR!" The sound almost deafened her. After so long with almost absolute silence, the sound of her desperate scream filling the void around her made her ears ache. Startled into silence, Krystle quickly dropped to one knee, chest heaving with each ragged breath. "I can hear," she whispered. And this time she knew why.

"I believe," she said simply.

"That makes no sense," whispered the madness. "Belief does not make something real."

"I believe I am sane," she said simply, willing it to be true , making herself believe. There was no reply.

Almost immediately, she began to question. In all honesty, simple belief in something should not make it real. But it did. Here, somehow, imagination and faith made things real. How could that be true? Her first thought was VR. But that made no sense. When you were in a VR world, you knew that it was virtual reality. The world you saw was not the world you were truly in. Here she had no sense of being in two places at once. She was here completely.

"I am not dead," she said aloud, working through the details again. "I am here, in this void. It's real. I'm not in a VR studio." She slowly stood and began walking again, hoping the movement would send blood to her brain and enable her to think better.

"Where does imagination make things real?" she asked herself. The answer seemed to come much later. Only in imagination itself. She was again swimming in molasses, going around in circles. She knew there was something she was missing and tried to catch it, but it eluded her, teased her, tormented her until she finally relented. She gave up and let her mind go blank, refusing to think of the problem for a few moments. Instead, she hummed a wordless tune, allowing herself to get lost in the creation of it.

A thought struck her, seemingly out of nowhere. It was the voice from within herself, the one that knew Truth. "This is a dream," it told her. Logic immediately began to argue. "This can't be a dream," she told herself. "I feel too much for it to be a dream." She had endured physical pains here that should never have affected her in a dream. And yet, she knew without doubt that she was dreaming. She felt the truth of it.

Again, questions began to plague her. How had she gotten here? How was it so real? How long had she been there? She vaguely remembered worlds, trials, battles she had fought, but how many had she forgotten comepletely? Besides, even if she could remember them all, time in dreams passed differently from time in the real world. She could have been there for two weeks or two years. What was happening in the real world? She abruptly pushed away all her questions, all the confusion, and focused on one thing.

"Every problem has a solution," she told herself. "This one does, too." With a renewed sense of purpose, Krystle set off in search of the doorway that would release her from her own mind.

She had only traveled a few steps when she began to grin mischievously. "Let's try something..." she murmured to herself. Closing her eyes, Krystle imagined an image from her memory. Without bothering to open her eyes, she reached a hand in front of her. There, as she had hoped and believed, was a smooth surface, perpendicular to the floor. She ran her fingers over the front of it and found, at eye level, the symbol she had been searching for. It was a diamond inscribed in a circle. She calmly placed her hand in the middle of it and spoke the words, "Open sesame."

As she had known it would, the door swung outward from her hand, admitting her to a new world.

Dreamworlds, Chapter 4

"...shouldn't be here, girl," she heard through a fog. "What were you thinking?" Krystle tried to open her eyes. It took a Herculean effort, and once she got them open she saw only a white blur. "Don't do that, Krystle," said the voice, an impatient mother dealing with a wayward child. Then the drugs coursing through her IV's hit her system, and she started to drift away again. Just before the world turned dark, she heard a hushed voice across the room. "How did she do that? She shouldn't have been able..." Then Krystle was gone, and she had no time to wonder what it was she shouldn't have been able to do.

She awoke several hours later, completely alert and aware for the first time in what seemed like years. Her body automatically tensed, responding to training ingrained in her mind that told her to be ready to fight any danger. She glanced around her surroundings frantically, relaxing only slightly when she realized that if she was in danger, it was not immediate. Her heartbeat slowing, she looked around again, trying to determine where she was. The walls were white, lit by the glow of flourescent lights on the ceiling. She was lying on a narrow bed, wires connecting her to computers that sat next to her bedside, a steady beeping marking her heartbeat. The beeping continued to slow as she calmed down further, then sped up again as she looked down at her hands and realized she was bound to the bed.

Confusion clouded her mind for a brief moment, and then memory came crashing down on her. Images of dreams, of horrors faced and overcome, of desperate fights she should have never survived, of dangers that could only be real in a nightmare. Each one had been real to her, lived in her mind. She had felt every wound, every ache. How many times had she tasted her own blood from bleeding cuts on her face? No dream could have been as real as what she had been through. No dream could have been that real, except that she also remembered, even more dimly, brief moments of lucidity, moments like this when she had been allowed to be fully awake. Those moments of wakefulness were frequent, but never long. As she searched through her hazy memories she came to realize that this was the first time she had truly known what was happening to her. Always before she had been too confused or too drugged to be able to think clearly. Then she realized what was different. The nurse was gone. She had always told Krystle she was sick, or crazy, and she had believed the woman. Doubtless the drugs continually coursing through Krystle's body were also the nurse's handiwork. Doubtless, too, they had added to her delusions.

Krystle glanced up at the IV. It was empty. She allowed a small smile to cross her lips. It felt good to be herself, to be able to think clearly. But the smile was short-lived. Krystle glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall that was counting each precious second she had to herself. She didn't know how long she would be allowed this freedom, and she had to think fast. Why was she here? How did she get here? What did they want with her? Why in the name of anything good had they tortured her this way? She felt rage and hate and fear well up in her, and for a moment she almost lost the power to think. But her training as a soldier and the weeks she had spent fighting against creatures and elements she could not understand had taught her to channel her anger, to put it aside and think with cold, cruel logic. This she did, but under a calm surface she burned with a desire for revenge.

She dug methodically through her memories, back to the last time she had been able to think clearly.

It had been night. She remembered sneaking out of Com headquarters. She had needed to meet someone. Wait, she was sneaking out of Com headquarters? How could that be right? But it was. She knew that it was. She went back further, to days of pretending to be what she was not, to nights stolen from her supervisors to meet with informants, firends. She remembered, then. She had been a spy. Her training at Sixth Realm, before she had joined the Revolution, made her uniquely qualified to plan battle strategies for their false war. She had done her job well, sending their troops where there would be the least damage while seeming to promote the havoc and chaos that the Coms so desired. She had made it possible for them to keep the war going when it should have been long over, all the while gathering what secrets she could about the internal structure of her enemies' society. That night she had gone to tell her secrets to her brother.

Carson.

For a moment the rage subsided and fear took its place. They had been watching her. They had to have been. That was the only way they would have caught her. Somebody had figured out that she was a spy, and they had tracked her every move. She remembered seeing her brother, almost reaching him, before the electrical pulses of a laser gun had slammed into her back, rendering her unconsious. She didn't know what had happened after that. Had Carson seen her fall? Had he escaped? She had known so much heartache and fear since that night, but for the first time in five weeks her fear extended beyond herself. What if they had taken Carson? What if they had tortured him the way they had tortured her? If he had broken under the pressure, the Revolution, the freedoms of America itself, would be endangered. Or what if they had let him go? Had followed him back to the base without his knowledge? Krystle didn't know which possibility was worse. Although, it didn't really matter. Either way, her friends and her beliefs would die. Their only hope was if Carson had somehow managed to escape the Coms. Somehow. Krystle held desperately to that hope, knowing that it was probably vain.

She turned her attention to herself, to the problem immediately facing her. Raising herself up on the bed, she studied the room around her. It was plain white, with no furniture but the bed she lay on, the stands that held various screens, a counter that held medical supplies, and a chair in which the nurse usually sat. Krystle grimaced as she looked down at her hands which were still bound to the bed. She remembered twisting and writhing in them countless times before, never with any success. She didn't expect to get free this time either, but she pulled on her bonds compulsively and thought furiously of some way she might get away from her captors.

The minutes passed, and though she rubbed her wrists almost raw, she came no closer to freedom than she had when she was dreaming. She had thought of one possibility, but it would have to be a last resort. It was a desperate plan, based on suppositions and theories, but if it worked it would either force her out of her dream... or she would die. She would be more valuable to the Revolution alive than dead, but she would die before she wilingly gave her enemies any information that could help them. It was a feeble plan of action, but it was the only one she had, and if they put her back in the dreamworld she didn't know how long it would be before they tricked her into telling them something she didn't want them to know.

Footsteps coming down the hall made her freeze. She made herself stop pulling at her bonds and lay her head down. She didn't want them to know she had been awake. That would take away any advantage she had managed to gain by her ten minutes of clarity. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, doing her best to look as though she hadn't moved. In her mind she rehearsed her plan, ingraining the importance of it into her subconscious. She hoped it would be enough to make her remember as she dreamed.

The door opened and the nurse stepped in, breathing a sigh of relief. "You're in for a world of trouble, woman," she muttered to herself, "if you can't even keep track of the time." Krystle heard the sharp click of the nurse's shoes move across the floor to the bed. Metal clinked together as the IV was replaced, and Krystle imaged herself in the future. She willed herself to remember, prayed that she would remember, placed more importance on that than on anything she had ever known. She felt the drugs as they hit her arm and spread through her system faster than she had believed they could. Through the wave of dizziness that took her she held to her plan as though it was a lifeline. Her last thought as she faded into darkness was a sure knowledge that she would be able to do what she needed to do.