Shadow of the Factorum: The Interview by K.A. Trent

Author:K.A. Trent [Trent, K.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

I had that dream again, more intense this time, and more memorable. I could see the cockpit ahead: a man manipulating the controls, the woman with flowing brown hair, matted to her face, her clothes tattered. The pooled blood on the deck before me. I knelt down, stared at it, and saw my own reflection glaring back at me. A boy maybe two years old. Was that me? Fingers outstretched, reaching for the puddle, eyes gazing in wonder at the reflection. No, that couldn’t be me. I wasn’t a boy, was I?

“Honey, honey, I need you to strap in,” the woman said as she moved toward me. Her horror was etched across her face. The look of a woman who knew she was about to die. It was a haunting, resigned countenance. Just as she reached me, the ship rocked. I felt a scorching heat behind me; it flashed, and then was gone. The woman stumbled and careened across the deck, slamming into a control panel and barely managing to right herself. “Jarreth, boost power to the inertial dampeners, for god’s sake!”

“Where do you want the power to come from? Life support?!” He shouted back.

“Do we need it?!”

Another explosion rocked the ship. The woman fell once again, but this time was different; this time it came to a standstill. The engine hum ceased, the lights dimmed.

“They’re coming!” the man called Jarreth said solemnly. I heard a click: the sound of a gun. He rose from the seat, the weapon held firmly in an unsteady hand.

“No,” the woman whispered. “No, please…”

I tried to hold onto it, to hold the dream in my thoughts and mind as I felt myself awaken. The hull of the ship was vanishing; the sensation of Donna’s spare room crept up my body, inching slowly toward my consciousness. I tried to hang onto it, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to will myself back to sleep-- but it was useless, futile. The dream faded. The woman, and the man-- Jarreth-- faded. It was gone, leaving me to lay on the soft, sweat-soaked mattress, the silence of the room blaring inside my head. I tried to remember this time-- I tried my best-- but the curtain had fallen, the act had ended. I was left with nothing but to open my eyes and pull myself out from under the covers. With a wave of my hand, I instructed the room to turn on the lights. They were dim at first, but gradually rose to a level that illuminated the entire space.

It was a little different than when I’d first moved in: the place had been rearranged slightly, maybe based on subtle suggestions I’d made. Donna had hung a few pictures: one depicting a scene of grass and sky, another showing a tapestry of flowers. The dresser drawers now contained undergarments and casual clothes while dresses, skirts, and blouses were consigned to the closet.

I pulled the top drawer open and grabbed a pink t-shirt and a white skirt.

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