In Dreams

* * *

“Move!”

Startled, Sarah froze as masked strangers clad in black ran towards her. She tried to step aside, removing herself from the path of their stampede, but one of them latched onto her arm and dragged her along in their wake.

Gunshots reverberated in the walls around her.

Her body moved on its own then, running at full power.

But why were they running to the middle of the room? There was nothing there.

No, that wasn’t right. A mirror?

The man holding her arm faltered with an unseen impact. She stopped to help him up, but was shoved ahead. “Go!”

He turned back, returning fire.

There were at least ten people converging on them with military-style uniforms. Sarah didn’t recognize the patterns.

She followed the others that were also getting shot at, running for the center of the enormous dome. A cave?

When she was about to reach the center, someone tackled her from behind. At the same time, she felt like she’d been punched in the shoulder. She hit the ground hard, her hands sliding against the concrete.

The person who tackled her covered her body with theirs, their hand on her head. “Go on three.”

He released her and three loud pops sounded right next to her head.

The man rose, dragging her to her feet and pushing her ahead at the same time. Something was soaking into her shirt, making it plaster against her skin.

“Nine!” the man next to her shouted.

A woman cursed nearby. Sarah whirled around to search for the person—it sounded like Robyn—but her companion forced her to speed up.

Gunshots multiplied.

Sarah hesitated for only a moment as she reached the center of the structure, afraid that she might find a physical barrier. But she didn’t have a choice. She was shoved at it—no, through.

As soon as they passed the imaginary barrier, the man brought her to the ground again, covering her.

“Clear?” the man asked.

“Clear.”

Sarah flinched when the reply came in her ear.

A sudden noise–an explosion?—sounded for only a second, then cut off as if a recording someone had shut down.

Despite the sound, there was no sign of anything that she would associate with an explosion. No running, screaming people. No shattered glass. No rubble.

The man kneeled next to her as she sat there in a stupor. Very blue eyes met hers. “You alright?”

She nodded numbly.

Her eyes drifted to the center of the dome. There was no sign of the people pursuing them. The place where she’d come from a moment ago was covered by a transparent sheen that divided the structure in two. It gave her the impression that it was split down the middle by a mirror, if a mirror could reflect nothing.

Why did she think of a mirror then?

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a puddle of red was forming below her fingertips.

“You were shot!”

Was she?

“Sarah!”

How did he know her name?

The translucent boundary shifted and shimmered before her eyes. She wanted to reach out and touch it. Like a forgotten memory—or maybe a dream—a whisper came in her sister’s voice, filled with wonder: “…beautiful… And utterly impossible.”

Sarah opened her eyes, immediately shielding them from the setting sun. Grass poked through her shirt, making her back itch. Cool air rushed at her throat, drawn in by each panicked breath.

Out of sight, Dad complained that Robyn spread the new soil in the wrong planter, while Mom called Sarah to get up and help.

Sarah stared at her fingertips, rubbing them together. Instead of bloody warmth, there were only drying flecks of dirt.

Which was the dream? And which was real?