Ember's Echo (The Nimbus Collection Book 2) by D.C. Clemens

Author:D.C. Clemens
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2015-12-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

I saw nothing, my mind’s eye fastened behind a lock and chain, but the sounds and smells were exactly the same as the previous reverie. I heard her scream, that succinct, heart wrenching scream, but it did not awaken me this time, though it seemed louder than before, as though she were at my feet and not partitioned behind an unbreakable wall. The terrible stillness that followed the terrible shriek lasted for several long moments. Eventually, the quietness of the objectless dream was broken by a muffled sound of a woman sobbing without restraint.

The abyss I was in was replaced by a cloudburst of light when my eyelids unbolted themselves. The clock in my head told me I had only slept for thirty minutes, but I was glad to no longer be blind or only privy to the sound of lamentations. I was now staring at a large holographic picture at the opposite side of the room, which swapped to a different image every few minutes. It was currently depicting a snapshot of one of the scientist’s smiling family, my dossier telling me the man was, in fact, Dr. Powell. He, his wife, two young boys and a slightly older girl were standing by the edge of the Red Rift, an immense lava-filled canyon popular with tourists from around the galaxy. The date at the lower right corner of the picture listed the pic as being taken twenty-three years ago. “I saw Dr. Powell somehow get… snatched off his speeder,” reiterated the words of Dr. Oleson, as though I were listening to a recording of it. The faint sound of sobbing disrupted my train of thought.

Was I still dreaming? I shook off the possibility, resolved in the fact that I could tell the difference between the real and its imitation. I stood up and habitually slipped on my helmet, keeping its visor up. The unfailing weeping was feeble, but it was unquestionably originating from within the deck. I treaded lightly out the room, perceiving that the soft sobbing was a couple of doors down my side of the hall. I walked to its entry, where the unlocked door slid open at my approach. Sitting in the bottom bunk with her back to me was Dr. Oleson, who promptly stood up at hearing my entrance. She turned to gaze at me with tear-swollen eyes, wiping her damp cheeks with the back of her worn hands. It was here I comprehended I must have been intruding on a grieving widow. I began to wonder why her crying had lured me in in the first place.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor,” I stuttered out. “I was just… I’ll leave you alone.”

Before I could turn completely around, she said, “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I was about to tell her she hadn’t, but then I remembered that the last thing I heard in my dream had been crying. Had a piece of reality crept into my subconscious mind after all? Why did some

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