Dream-Hunters - Chapter Two

“Ouch,” John muttered, picking himself up from the floor. Somehow, he had fallen from his bed onto the floor in his sleep. The sunlight was leaking in from the half-obscuring curtains, illuminating the dust he’d never noticed. 

“Geez.” He pried himself from the covers and stretched, inducing a yawn. “What a crazy dream.”

Throwing on a shirt and jeans, same as he'd worn yesterday, he tripped his way out of his room, stumbling downstairs. “Sheesh.” He muttered, pouring out his cereal drowsily. “Who was that guy, anyway?”

He’d never seen Chaser or the spiders before, and Alfie hadn’t looked familiar. But Matthew….

John stopped short. “There’s a Matthew Oracle in my math class, isn’t there? Heh.” Chuckling to himself, he devoured his breakfast. “What a dumb dream,” he mumbled. If a real person was in it, the dream had to be fake, right? In the end, it was just a delusion.

Still, why had he dreamed about Matthew in particular? He dropped his spoon as a possible answer struck him. "Nah...not possible." Quickly, he shrugged the assumption away.

John grabbed his jacket off of the chair, tossing it around his shoulders. As he struggled with sleeves, the white piece of paper lying on the table caught his eye once more. 

The note had been left by his father, saying he’d be gone for a business trip. John would’ve liked to protest the idea of leaving a fifteen-year-old to fend for himself for an indefinite amount of time, but it was too late for argument. The note was already two days old.

On his way out, John caught a glance of himself in the mirror. Not much had changed. Still the same gloomy eyes, still the same haggard exhaustion. A face that you'd avoid if you could help it. But there was no sign of that freaky mask.

Shouldering his backpack with a yawn, he stepped out the door, the threshold to his real life. Today was going to be hell.

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John struggled to stay awake in math class, eyes fluttering as he slumped over his desk. He couldn’t help it. Sleep was just so tempting.

The students around him were conversing jovially, talking about their plans for the weekend and summer break. John sat back, not caring to eavesdrop. He was doing all he needed to by keeping to his own.

The math teacher took attendance in his usual monotonous drone. "Andrews...Barnett...Buehler...Buehler...Buehler..." The Buehler triplets raised their hands in unison.

"Niles...O'Donnell...Oracle. Oracle?” The teacher looked up from the list, searching for Matthew.

John, lifting his head from his desk, craned his neck to see where Matthew usually sat. It was empty. Matthew was absent.

He spent the rest of class spinning a terrifying theory around Matthew’s disappearance. Needless to say, he could hardly be troubled to pay attention that day. After all, algebra wasn’t really that interesting.

A ringing bell jerked John out of his stupor. As the other students packed up, pushing and teasing each other about weekend plans and the opposite sex, John gathered his books and headed home, sighing.

The walk back home wasn’t quite interesting, once you were used to it. The looming skyscrapers towered on the horizon, the sunny sky not without its fair share of grey. The same taxis bustled about the city streets, and the same frantic businessmen rushed about, papers flying from their suitcases. The city retained its slate hue, boring John to death.

John sighed. Everywhere he looked, the world was just dull, uninspired, and overstated.

It was easy to get drowned out in the city noise. With all the car horns, angry yells, and blaring noises, John couldn’t help but feel insignificant. That was partially why he enjoyed his dreams. They were quiet.

Of course, the last one hadn’t quite been. John wracked his brain, clapping a pair of headphones onto his head, tuning out the noise in favor of some soft pop music. Somberly walking down the sidewalk, he didn’t even notice the girl until he’d bumped into her.

“Oof!” John’s hands slapped the pavement, his knees hammering concrete. Pulling off his headphones, he saw that he’d bumped into a girl around his age, carrying a bunch of jewelry in a large bag. The jewelry had been scattered like pennies, necklaces and bracelets strewn about the sidewalk. She was on her hands and knees, struggling frantically to recollect them. 

“Ah, sorry.” John plucked a broach from the sidewalk, handing it back to her. Hesitantly, she took it, stowing it away in her enormous bag. 

Taking his hand, she stood up. The girl was about an inch shorter than he was, but cast a mature aura regardless. Her blond hair, held by a single pin, seemed to shimmer in the afternoon sun.

John, catching himself staring, looked away a bit too quickly. “Well, sorry, anyway.” He turned to leave, but felt a hand on his jacket sleeve. “Wait.” Turning back, he saw the girl, blushing, presenting the bag of jewelry. “Carry this for me.”

At this point, there was only one thing John could do. Any chivalrous male would’ve done the same. Chivalry was the only factor in this decision, of course.

Taking the bag, John grunted from the unexpected weight. His arms muscles caught fire, and he staggered strenuously. How in the world had she carried this thing? The girl scratched the back of her head, grinning. “Thanks.” Turning, she crossed the street, beckoning him from halfway. “Well, come on!”

Groaning from the pain, he hurried across the street to her. The girl walked beside him in a carefree gait. “So, what’s your name?” she asked.

“It’s John.”

“I see. My name’s Sophie.” Giggling, she stretched her arm out for a handshake.

John obliged, though his arms were falling off. “So, what’re you doing with all this jewelry?”

“It’s for my brother,” Sophie replied.

“Jewelry for a guy?”

“Yeah.” Sophie grinned. “Well, its a long story.” She tilted her head playfully. “Thanks for helping me take this to him, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” John grumbled. “Anyway, where is he?”

“He’s….in the hospital.” Sophie’s smile suddenly dropped. “He fell ill this morning, so I decided to take some of his stuff to him while he’s sick.”

“That’s awfully nice of you.”

“Actually, it really doesn’t matter. He’s in a coma. He won’t be awake to see it.” Sophie suddenly turned her face away. John wanted to say something, but frankly, he was already at his social limit. Sophie suddenly turned back, smiling again. “But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

John suddenly found himself turning red. “Y-yeah.”

As they rounded a corner, the painted red cross of the hospital could be seen down the street. Standing in front of the hospital was a mountain of a man, tapping his toe on the cement. He called out to them as they approached. “Hey! Sophie!”

Sophie dashed forward to meet the man, embracing him. “Hey, Dad!” The man hugged tighter in return. “How are you, Sophie?” As John staggered over, the man noticed him. “Oh, Sophie,” he sighed. “Aren’t you a little young for….”

“W-wait! It’s not like that!” Sophie reddened, taking the bag back from John. “He’s just someone who decided to help me carry all this!”

“Decided to help you, huh?” Sophie’s father rubbed his chin. Looking up at him, John could see a strong face with a rigid chin, atop mounds of bear-like muscle. A scar near his eye gave him a fearsome look indeed.

He suddenly grabbed John in a vicious headlock, nearly choking the life out of him. “You little punk! Who do you think you are, putting moves on my daughter! I’ll teach you!”

Turning blue, John managed to gasp out a few words, tapping the man’s bicep in vain. “Not….what….I….was….doing….”

Sophie’s father let go, folding his arms as John took in gulps of air. “Not what you were doing? It’d better be,” he growled. John rubbed his throat, grateful to be able to breathe again.

“Dad!” Sophie sighed, covering her face with her hand. “Anyway, this is John. He’s just someone I met on the street.”

John weakly raised a hand. “H-hey there.”

“Well, alright, Sophie.” Sophie’s father suddenly grabbed John’s arm, shaking it vigorously. “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine! Silas is what they call me! Nice to meet you!”

John attempted to recall something important at that moment, but it felt like his shoulder was being ripped out. Silas stepped back, shaking out his wrist. “Gotta say, son, your handshake’s weaker than morning decaf! Ah, well.” Taking the bag from Sophie, he waved his hand for the hospital door, gesturing for them to follow. “Well, now that you’re here, you oughta come on in.”

Silas skipped along, humming a tune while oblivious to the extreme weight of the jewelry bag he was carrying. Sophie was back behind, apologizing feverishly to John. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess my dad can get a bit carried away at times.”

“You’re telling me.” John’s arms swayed lifelessly at his sides as he walked.

“U-um….” Sophie scratched her head, embarrassed. “As an apology, you can come see my brothers with me and my dad!”

“That works. Hey wait, you have two brothers?”

“Oh! Yeah! Forgot to mention, sorry. The situation’s the same for both of them.”

John’s shoes scuffed on the clean hospital floor. “Any idea what caused it?”

Sophie looked dejected. “No, it came in their sleep. It was like something just showed up and blacked them out.”

Silas was checking them in at the front desk, leaning on it in some macho way or another. “Hello there. I’d like to see my sons, if you don’t mind.”

The dull receptionist barely even looked up from her computer. “And anyone with you?”

“Yeah, that’s us,” Sophie said, stepping forward.

“And last name?”

“Oracle,” Silas proclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Silas and Sophie Oracle.”

“Alright. And your name?” The receptionist asked, looking at John.

John was shocked. Oracle? Wait. Calm down. The dream wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There was no way….

“Name?” The receptionist enquired again, a little annoyed.

“J-john Dureal,” he stammered, trying to piece together his coherent thoughts.

“Okay.” The lady handed Silas a slip of paper. “Go on through. Next!”

“Well?” Silas’s voice seemed to hold a sinister undertone now. “You coming, kid?”

“Come on.” Sophie’s hand pushed firmly on his back, guiding him towards the hall. “Let’s go see my brothers.”

John's mind raced. Could it have been a coincidence? No, he wouldn't find answers here. Think back to the dream...what had Chaser called Matthew?

His blood drained to his feet as he remembered: Chaser had called Matthew the son of Silas.

“Here we are, kid.” Smiling warmly, Silas Oracle opened a door in the empty hallway. 

Sophie ushered John inside, more forceful than eager. “Well, John,” she said, “say hello to my brothers.”

White shock coursed through John's body, freezing him in place. There, lying on the hospital beds, as though torn from his dream, were Alfie and Matthew Oracle. Unconscious, they were the sole decorations of the stark hospital room.

A loud clunk resounded when Mr. Oracle set the bag down. “Hey, sons.”

Alfie gave no response, heart rate unnaturally slow. The steady beeps from the instruments next to him were the only indication of life.

Matthew, on the other hand, seemed to be a bit too lively. He was thrashing about in his sleep, so much so that he had been lashed to his own bed. He tossed and turned, as though locked in combat with some brutal nightmare. The sweat on his brow and the pained grunts he made were even more unnerving.

John suddenly felt trapped in that small hospital room, with the Oracle family surrounding him. Nausea and fear took hold; all he wished was to leave. “So John.” Silas shut the door slowly, fatally. “Any ideas as to how this happened?”

“That’s right, John.” Sophie walked forward ominously. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

John backed away slowly, hands raised in defense. “What? I….”

Silas raised his hand above his head, and the space around it began to shimmer. John watched in horror as globs of radiance bound together, forming a giant longsword in Silas' grip. “Let’s have a little chat.” With that, he brought the sword down, enveloping them in white light. 

When the light faded, all that was left in the hospital room was the two unconscious Oracles and the beeps of the heart monitors. But perhaps one could've heard a faint scream resonate from John as he was pulled back into the world of dreams.