Tak.
Seth Garin bolted upright in a cold sweat from the uneasy sleep he had been experiencing. He rubbed his ears. Had he just heard a child's voice speak? Deciding not, he lay back down and returned his mind to the dream he had awoken from. Someone had been telling him underground to never go to China when everything went a bright red. That's when the voice woke him. He didn't even know enough about the dream to know if he needed to be worried. For the past few months, in fact, since he turned thirteen, his dreams had seemed to forecast the coming day, which was strange enough, but always with stunning clarity. Seth could never remember exactly what his dreams had been until a few days ago. And what had the child's voice said? It was something like Dak or
(tak)
Dag or something like that. The voice had been cold, devoid of all emotion, like a voice of one who had just been told of a great tragedy and was in shock. Shaking his head to clear it and telling himself that it wasn't important,
(it was, it was)
Seth glanced at his clock. Three o'clock in the morning. God. Another four hours to feign sleep before another exiting day of the confirmation trip across the west. Today, they'd be crossing into... Nevada? He thought so. Anyway, he'd be snoring away in the bus and get in trouble with Ms. Wyler. He was sure of that. Seth knew he didn't have to worry about Professor Marinville. He was cool. Anyone would attest to that. And Mr. Carver would be too busy snoozing himself to be getting onto him.
Seth began to drift off despite himself. As his eyes slid shut, he muttered something apparently nonsensical: "Can de lach. Mi him en tow... Can de lach... Tak..."
Tak.
Audrey Wyler sat on the edge of her bed, wondering which room to invade, telling the occupants to go to sleep. Was it that Garin child who woke her with that sharp syllable spoken at seemingly full volume? It wouldn't surprise her. Or maybe one of the Carver children. Many parents believed that going along with their children on trips makes them behave, but Audrey knew that it was exactly the opposite from experience both as an adult and as a child. It made them feel as if they had an obligation to their friends to show off how in control they were at their house, even if they weren't as in her case. Mr. and Mrs. Wyler had been harsh parents, real spare the rod, spoil the child, God fearing Baptist parents. Audrey knew looking back that this rearing was the reason she had turned out the way she was, whole in character and in judgment. She was no longer Baptist; she had switched to Episcopalism for a boyfriend in college. The boyfriend dumped her, and Audrey turned to the church for help rebuilding her life. One thing led to another, and she became the confirmation director at St. George's Episcopalian Church in Nashville.
Tak. Can de lach.
It had to be the Garin child. The sound was coming from the direction of his room-at three o'clock, that child should be asleep. No matter how old one was, they should be allowed some sleep at some time in the night. Audrey considered turning on her iPod, then realized that the reason she hadn't already was that she was charging it for the day ahead. Lord... how boring is it to go romping about in the deserts of Nevada? Hopefully, it won't be as barren as it was made out to be. Why had the former director established this trip to begin with? The mere thought of taking children, some not even into their teenage years, halfway across the country for a confirmation trip was mind-boggling.
Can de lach.
Okay, that's it, she thought. Garin, you're going down. I don't care if your parents are divorced, this is not something I will let slide. I need sleep. I have to monitor the children tomorrow for the poor bus driver's sake. They'll drive him insane! They'll... She yawned broadly. On second thought, she might be able to sleep after all. In fact... another yawn... I might not even be able to wake up by seven. But I don't care...
Audrey Wyler fell asleep and spent the rest of the night in a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
Johnny Marinville also sat on the edge of his cheap motel bed. He checked the atomic travel clock for the time: 2:58 A.M. Horrible. That bastard Carver had been keeping him up all night with his damn snoring. The dumbass had even taken some drops for it before going to sleep. A lot of good that did him.
Tak.
"Hmm?" Marinville turned to Ralph Carver's bed. The big man was asleep, and still snoring. It must have been the wind. There was supposed to be a big windstorm tomorrow. Johnny didn't know how smart it was to be in the middle of the desert during a sandstorm, but that was little Missy Wyler's call. Everything was.
Mi him en tow.
"What?" Johnny spun this time to see what Carver had to say. The man was still lying stoically at his side. Johnny put his head in his hands. It had sounded so much like the dying words of a man he'd known in Vietnam. The flashbacks had stopped years ago... could they be coming back?
He realized a silence had come over the room. He turned once more to Carver's bed. The man was sitting up. "Did you hear it?" Carver asked.
"Hear what?" asked Marinville in return. Of course he hadn't heard anything. Just the motel settling. It was an old wooden structure. It was probably prone to those types of noises.
Carver looked around the room for a moment and settled on the wall behind his bed. "I think it came from there," he said.
"You didn't hear anything," Johnny said. "Go back to sleep."
Ralph Carver nodded his greying head slowly and settled it back on his pillow. Soon, his heavy snores were rattling the room again.
Johnny Marinville settled his face into his weathered hands.
Tak, tak, tak, tak-
Was that gunfire he heard? Oh, this would be a long night for Prof. Johnny Marinville.
Seth Garin bolted upright in a cold sweat from the uneasy sleep he had been experiencing. He rubbed his ears. Had he just heard a child's voice speak? Deciding not, he lay back down and returned his mind to the dream he had awoken from. Someone had been telling him underground to never go to China when everything went a bright red. That's when the voice woke him. He didn't even know enough about the dream to know if he needed to be worried. For the past few months, in fact, since he turned thirteen, his dreams had seemed to forecast the coming day, which was strange enough, but always with stunning clarity. Seth could never remember exactly what his dreams had been until a few days ago. And what had the child's voice said? It was something like Dak or
(tak)
Dag or something like that. The voice had been cold, devoid of all emotion, like a voice of one who had just been told of a great tragedy and was in shock. Shaking his head to clear it and telling himself that it wasn't important,
(it was, it was)
Seth glanced at his clock. Three o'clock in the morning. God. Another four hours to feign sleep before another exiting day of the confirmation trip across the west. Today, they'd be crossing into... Nevada? He thought so. Anyway, he'd be snoring away in the bus and get in trouble with Ms. Wyler. He was sure of that. Seth knew he didn't have to worry about Professor Marinville. He was cool. Anyone would attest to that. And Mr. Carver would be too busy snoozing himself to be getting onto him.
Seth began to drift off despite himself. As his eyes slid shut, he muttered something apparently nonsensical: "Can de lach. Mi him en tow... Can de lach... Tak..."
Tak.
Audrey Wyler sat on the edge of her bed, wondering which room to invade, telling the occupants to go to sleep. Was it that Garin child who woke her with that sharp syllable spoken at seemingly full volume? It wouldn't surprise her. Or maybe one of the Carver children. Many parents believed that going along with their children on trips makes them behave, but Audrey knew that it was exactly the opposite from experience both as an adult and as a child. It made them feel as if they had an obligation to their friends to show off how in control they were at their house, even if they weren't as in her case. Mr. and Mrs. Wyler had been harsh parents, real spare the rod, spoil the child, God fearing Baptist parents. Audrey knew looking back that this rearing was the reason she had turned out the way she was, whole in character and in judgment. She was no longer Baptist; she had switched to Episcopalism for a boyfriend in college. The boyfriend dumped her, and Audrey turned to the church for help rebuilding her life. One thing led to another, and she became the confirmation director at St. George's Episcopalian Church in Nashville.
Tak. Can de lach.
It had to be the Garin child. The sound was coming from the direction of his room-at three o'clock, that child should be asleep. No matter how old one was, they should be allowed some sleep at some time in the night. Audrey considered turning on her iPod, then realized that the reason she hadn't already was that she was charging it for the day ahead. Lord... how boring is it to go romping about in the deserts of Nevada? Hopefully, it won't be as barren as it was made out to be. Why had the former director established this trip to begin with? The mere thought of taking children, some not even into their teenage years, halfway across the country for a confirmation trip was mind-boggling.
Can de lach.
Okay, that's it, she thought. Garin, you're going down. I don't care if your parents are divorced, this is not something I will let slide. I need sleep. I have to monitor the children tomorrow for the poor bus driver's sake. They'll drive him insane! They'll... She yawned broadly. On second thought, she might be able to sleep after all. In fact... another yawn... I might not even be able to wake up by seven. But I don't care...
Audrey Wyler fell asleep and spent the rest of the night in a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
Johnny Marinville also sat on the edge of his cheap motel bed. He checked the atomic travel clock for the time: 2:58 A.M. Horrible. That bastard Carver had been keeping him up all night with his damn snoring. The dumbass had even taken some drops for it before going to sleep. A lot of good that did him.
Tak.
"Hmm?" Marinville turned to Ralph Carver's bed. The big man was asleep, and still snoring. It must have been the wind. There was supposed to be a big windstorm tomorrow. Johnny didn't know how smart it was to be in the middle of the desert during a sandstorm, but that was little Missy Wyler's call. Everything was.
Mi him en tow.
"What?" Johnny spun this time to see what Carver had to say. The man was still lying stoically at his side. Johnny put his head in his hands. It had sounded so much like the dying words of a man he'd known in Vietnam. The flashbacks had stopped years ago... could they be coming back?
He realized a silence had come over the room. He turned once more to Carver's bed. The man was sitting up. "Did you hear it?" Carver asked.
"Hear what?" asked Marinville in return. Of course he hadn't heard anything. Just the motel settling. It was an old wooden structure. It was probably prone to those types of noises.
Carver looked around the room for a moment and settled on the wall behind his bed. "I think it came from there," he said.
"You didn't hear anything," Johnny said. "Go back to sleep."
Ralph Carver nodded his greying head slowly and settled it back on his pillow. Soon, his heavy snores were rattling the room again.
Johnny Marinville settled his face into his weathered hands.
Tak, tak, tak, tak-
Was that gunfire he heard? Oh, this would be a long night for Prof. Johnny Marinville.
