Waken Dream III

Missing posters tore through the street. A wind of fury gave chase, hunting the pages flapping against its fist. Faces flashed against the darkness, but nobody noticed. These people were gone, and nobody knew where they had gone to. And only these pieces of paper told of their lives, but nobody was listening. And they were nothing but ghosts haunting these streets, and their voices were lost except to the wind. And the wind gave chase.

A year had gone by. He was working late one night. There was a bad storm. Wicked lightning licked the sky, and thunder roared like a lion king. His engine rattled up the driveway, but he didn't know that she was back, waiting inside. The car door was thrown open, a creaking sound that haunted her mind, but what was worse was the sound that followed. It was like a bomb went off, and he screamed. He screamed, but when she ran out the front door, he was gone. And so was his car.

Holly could never explain it. She went to the police. She told them what had happened, but they wrote her off. They thought that she was crazy, but she knew what she had heard. And his job called the next day, worried, and she had no answers. All she knew was that he was missing, her husband was gone.

Gary Javin. Missing posters decorated her neighborhood. His secretary, Tracy helped her hang them up. They walked door to door, looking for anyone that knew anything. The lawyers at his firm even went to the police, and finally they took interest. And a missing poster even made it to the eleven o' clock news, but nothing ever happened. And nobody knew nothing, and everybody finally went away. And the missing posters faded, ripped, and disappeared, carried off by the wind.

Holly was the last one holding to hope. Gary's family believed that he was dead. He had his fair share of enemies, and what Holly heard that night was his murder. Let it go, they told her. He's dead, and part of her agreed. But the other half refused, and the year went by.

Today was the anniversary of his disappearance. Holly couldn't remain in the house. She was almost afraid that the last night that he came home would be replayed outside in the driveway like some twisted nightmare. She needed to get out of here. She needed closure, but there was nowhere for her to go. She could go to his favorite pub, where Earl now served her free drinks, but she was never much of a drinker. So, the only other place, where she could find some shred of peace was at the police station, so she went, knowing that she would be met with annoyance and whispers.

The police station was the usual local town one that you would see in the movies. The phones rang off the hook. Squad cars came and went. Convicts sat beside desks, waiting to be processed. The clerk hid behind bulletproof glass, wanting to know her business there, but he didn't ask her. He knew Holly very well, and he knew why she was there.

"Any news?"

"Now, Holly. You know the detective would have called you, if he heard anything."

"It's been a year. It's a year today." She glared at the clerk. "When is he coming home?" The clerk looked away. "Are you still looking for him?" His eyes met hers. "You're not, are you? You're not looking for him."

"Now, Holly..."

"Don't. Don't now Holly me!" She didn't mean to yell, but she did. And the police station went quiet. "I just want to know. I just want to know when is he coming home?"

"Holly." A detective hurried over to her. "Why don't you come with me?" He shot the clerk a look. "We can discuss the case." He led her to his desk. "Come on." She followed, but she too gave the clerk one last lingering, disgusted look.

"What was that all about?"

"Leave it alone, Eric." A heavyset man leaned back in his chair. "You don't want to keep doing the police blotter, now do you?" He threw a file at him. "You want to be writing your own articles at the paper, so leave it be."

"I just asked a damn question, Harv. What was that all about?"

"Fine. That was all about Gary Javin. He went missing a year ago. Satisfied?" He saw the look on the reporter's face. "I don't know why I bother."

"Entertain me." The reporter sat at the edge of the detective's desk. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Any foul play?"

"Nope. Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. The guy worked late. He came home. It was a bad storm, and poof." He opened his hand like a magician. "He was gone." He snapped his fingers a little too loudly. "Like that."

"Bullshit."

"Bull true, my friend, and she has it in her mind that he was abducted by aliens or something. Who the hell knows? Maybe he wound up on the other side." The detective tossed his pen onto the desk. "It's not like any one of us would ever know."

"So, who would know?"

"Got a crystal ball?" The detective shook his head. "Look, you got what you came here for, so go write the next police blotter. And let me get back to work." He picked up his phone. "Unless you want to phone home." He imitated E.T., but the reporter didn't think he was funny. "What? No sense of humor?"

"How about have a heart?" The reporter moved away from him. "She's looking for her husband." He glanced at Holly. "At least, she hasn't given up."

Holly left the police station an hour later. She was angry, disgusted, and furious. They thought she was a joke, a lost cause, and they weren't looking for him. His trail had run cold a long time ago, and there was no new evidence to go on. She was asked to let it go once again. Move on. Start over. Start living, but how could she? He was her husband, and she never got the chance to say I'm sorry or good-bye. How could she just let it go?

She waited for the bus, lost in thought. A young man moved up to her side, and she noticed a newspaper tucked under his arm. An article caught her attention, and he followed her gaze. Without saying a word, he offered the newspaper to her, and then he checked his watch, noticing that the bus was running late. But she barely noticed.

The article showed two men arrested for murder. They were actually being held at the police station that she just left. Their faces were frightening but familiar. She knew them, but she never met them. How was that possible?

"You okay?" She met the young man's gaze. "You look confused."

"Maybe I am." She shook her head. "Thank you." She returned his newspaper.

"Anytime. The bus is running late." He checked his watch again.

"So, it is." She stared at him, and he returned her stare. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?" His face flushed. "You look so familiar."

"You probably saw me back at the police station." He laughed but then grew serious. "I'm sorry about your husband." The bus pulled up in front of them. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah." She followed him on the bus and took a seat near him. "Where are you off to?"

"The office. You?"

"Supermarket." She was quiet for a moment. "You don't drive?"

"Car's in the shop. You?"

"Me? No. Not really."

After her husband went missing, Holly was afraid to drive. She didn't own a car at the time, and she couldn't bring herself now to get behind the wheel. She was always a good driver, and she was never afraid to drive. But after that night, after that sound, she just couldn't do it. Eventually, she would have to, but for now, she was fine taking the bus.

"There you go again," he noted. "Disappearing in thought." He realized what he said. "Sorry."

"About what?"

"The disappearing part." He was now quiet for a moment. "So, your husband just disappeared?" She nodded. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." Her brow creased.

"What?"

"Nothing, but... When I stepped outside, the ground looked like it was scorched." She shook her head. "I don't know."

"I think you do." The bus stopped. "Here's my stop." He moved out of his seat. "I'm Eric, by the way." He held his hand out for her to shake.

"Holly." She shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Later on, she stood on line at the grocery store. She was once again lost in thought. There were five people ahead of her, but she didn't care. Then, she noticed a man in front of them. His back was turned toward her, but his face seemed familiar.

"Gary?" She swayed to the left and then to the right, trying to see his face. "Gary?" He half turned toward her but then stopped. "Gary?" Everyone now looked at her, but she didn't care. "Gary?"

She moved off the line, giving up her spot. She followed him to the exit door, still holding her groceries. She couldn't cross the line without purchasing the items, but she called to him, begging for him to stop. And he listened. He turned her way, and for a moment, she saw her husband. She then made the mistake of blinking, and his face melted into a stranger's. And the stranger smiled politely and then left.

Time ticked by. Time was always ticking by, and she felt like her time was running out. She couldn't survive like this. She was living off her husband's money, and she got more of it after he was declared dead. Everybody thought he was dead, and part of her agreed. But the other half refused defeat.

She had to let go. It's been a year, and everyone told her to let go. Why was it so hard? Why couldn't she just let go? What was she holding onto? As these questions swam round and round her head, she passed by a faded, torn missing poster, and his face held her gaze. She couldn't let go because she was fighting for him.

The bag of groceries was heavy against her arm. She should've taken the bus back home, but she didn't care. The walk would do her good, but her legs would be screaming in protest later. She was out of shape, and most of her time was spent in that house. She needed to get out especially today, and she did. But she found no answers, no peace. She was alone, and the world moved on, leaving her behind.

A man walked past her. At first glance, he resembled her husband, but she was more cautious this time. She followed him at a slow pace, and he didn't seem to notice or care. As he rounded the turn, he looked back at her, and she saw an older man that bore hardly no resemblance to the one that she lost. So, she walked on, and so did he.

She was near Earl's pub. Reluctantly, she walked inside. The place was quiet. Happy Hour wouldn't be for some time, and Earl stood behind the counter, cleaning his glasses. A haggard man sat at the end of the bar, and he hardly glanced her way. The other customers continued nursing their drinks and talking in low voices.

"Holly." Earl watched her place her groceries on the seat beside her. "Call you a cab?"

"In a few, Earl." She held his gaze. "How about a drink?"

"You rarely drink." He finished cleaning his glasses. "Why today?"

"It's a year today."

"Coming right up." He moved away from her.

"He's dead." The haggard man now moved toward her. "I saw him. The night he died." He swayed to the right, off-balance. "Two men kill him."

"Hey! Leave the lady alone," Earl warned him. "You hearing me?"

"He got a second chance to start over."

"I said to leave the lady alone." Holly thought that he was going to lunge over the counter. "Go finish your drink." The haggard man held his hands up in surrender. "Good boy." He watched him back off. "Jeez, I don't know what I would do, if this place ever fell apart, and I got more just like him."

"She left him," the haggard man yelled back.

"That's it. Get out." Earl moved out from behind the counter. "Now."

"Wait." Holly jumped in front of him. "How do you know that?" She moved closer to the strange man. "How?"

"Spoke to him. Saw him. The world is not flat." He licked his lips and grinned at Earl, who wanted to deck him. "We are halves. Halves rotating around halves, but then BOOM. We're there where we're not supposed to be. Second chance, but he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Died twice."

"He's dead?"

"Sorry. Dead is dead. No existence beyond here or now." He stumbled toward her, but now Earl stepped in front of Holly. "I go." He fumbled for his wallet.

"Forget it, pal. Your money is no good here." He pointed toward the door. "Get out, and don't come back."

"Me not come back. Me not go anywhere." He fixed Holly with a strange stare. "I don't exist." With that said, he walked out the door, disappearing from sight.

"I'm sorry." Earl looked at Holly. "Crazy bastard." He rubbed his chin. "How about that drink?" He moved away from her.

"No." Holly gazed at him. "Call me a cab, Earl. That man had enough drink for the two of us." Earl nodded and returned to the other side of the counter.

"Little late, isn't it miss?" Holly snapped back to reality as the cab driver gazed at her through the rearview mirror. "To have a drink or to drink alone?"

"I didn't have a drink."

"Ah. Secret rendezvous."

"Just watch the road. Please."

"Okay, okay." The cab driver continued to drive her home. "Didn't mean to pry."

Holly didn't respond. Strange day. She didn't want to go back home, but she had enough. She had enough of people giving up and telling her to do just that. She had enough of seeing Gary when it wasn't even him. She had enough of strange men telling her strange tales. She had enough, so she would go home. And she would call it a day.

The front door opened before her. She took her groceries and carried them inside. Music softly echoed across the walls, welcoming her in, and for once, she forgot about her husband. She quickly disposed of her groceries, draped her coat over a kitchen chair, and wondered briefly about dinner. But then someone called her name.

"He's awake."

"Thank you, Jess." Holly pulled a twenty-dollar-bill from her wallet. "I appreciate you coming over last minute."

"I know what today is," she whispered. "Did the police have any news?" She saw the look on Holly's face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She put the money in her hand. "He's gone, and he's not coming back." Holly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Life goes on." She forced a smile.

"I could stay longer, if you need more time."

"Time. Time is a cruel joke, one that runs out of too many punch lines." She saw the confusion on the girl's face. "Don't mind me. I had a strange day, but it's okay. Go home." She watched the girl leave. "I'll be fine."

The front door slammed closed. Holly jumped. She heard the engine roar to life, and then it rumbled as it slid down and away from the driveway. Tires squeeled and burned rubber. Then, nothing. Nothing but a ghost of a presence lingered, and she cringed, knowing that there would be no return. But she had to move on, so she did.

The bedroom was warm, and he waited for her near the bed. The sun was setting, but the birds were still singing. A breeze swam underneath the open window, and laughter tingled her heart. She smiled, and her mind was finally at peace. And she wrapped her arms around him, lifting him up and holding him tight.

"It's okay," she cried. "It's okay. I'm here." She cried harder. "I'll never leave you." She kissed his face, and he laughed in response. "Mommy's home."