SWNOVELS Chapter Bad Dreams
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Chapter Ten
Bad Dreams
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It was like coming down from a bad caffeine high. Ryan sat curled up in the back on the car, shaking. The thick fog had turned to rain and the world outside the bleary windows was getting darker. There was no music playing over the radio. Neither his grandfather nor his mother spoke a word. They just drove and drove. With every road sign they passed Ryan felt the dread like something viscous, growing in the atmosphere. It was cold in the car and Ryan’s clothes were damp. He shivered and curled in smaller on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest like a child.
The collar about his throat was tight. He didn’t dare touch it as though his own acknowledgment of the object would bring it to life to strangle him. He could pretend that he just wanted to find out more about his father. He could pretend he was leaving with the full intention of coming back.
But he knew he wasn’t.
He wasn’t sure his mother would even let him. How long would it take before Firth noticed he wasn’t on the island anymore?
Would he follow him?
Could he follow him?
Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the way the pounding rain on the car roof was starting to sound like something immense trying to break in. At some point, the exhaustion of the day got the best of him, and he fell into a restless half sleep. The rocking motion of the car like the waves of the roaring ocean, Ryan tossed about in the seat, unable to get comfortable. The streetlight reminded him of the glowing coral. The reflective glint off a shop front window was a silvery fish. He whimpered miserably, turning over. He never saw the deep worry etched into his grandfather’s face as the old man looked at him through the rear-view mirror.
They reached his aunt’s house in just under two hours. It should have taken longer but the driving rain had forced most sensible people to stay in their warm homes. Alice’s white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and hawk like expression told of just how hard she had held her foot to the accelerator. The sun had long been stolen by the gloomy ever-present storm clouds and it was only by the car’s orange headlights that the house came into view from the end of a long muddy driveway. Ryan woke from his half doze with a violent start.
‘Leave the suitcase. We’ll get it in the morning when the weather fines up,’ Grandpa Jo suggested. Alice nodded curtly, grabbing her purse off the backseat beside Ryan.
‘It wasn’t even supposed to rain this afternoon,’ she growled. Ryan shivered. The group exited the car and made for the front porch, all hunching against the driving rain. The porch light came on and there was a commotion from inside the residence. A small dog was yapping, feet were thudding, and a woman’s voice called, ‘Alice, is that you?’ Aunt Joanne was a stout woman with perpetually frizzy black hair and an expression like someone who’d just swallowed a particularly large lemon. She looked at the three of them in amazement as she swung open the door.
‘Good grief, look at the state of you’s!’ She gawked. A bouncing ball of aggressive brown fluff was barking nosily at her mistress’s heels, the Pomeranian’s eyes fixed on Ryan. They were ushered inside, the little dog barking madly the entire time.
‘Can’t believe this rain,’ she said, wiping her hands on the large fluffy pink apron she was wearing. The smell of battered fish and oily chips was thick in the air. Ryan’s stomach growled loudly. Even from the entryway, Ryan could hear his cousins arguing loudly. There was pressure at his back as Grandpa Jo gently pushed Ryan over the threshold of the crowded house. Ryan held in a yelp as his aunt gave him a hug that nearly broke his ribs.
‘I swear you’re thinner every time I see you! Get in here,’ she barked, beckoning to the kitchen. He glanced briefly at his mother who nodded sharply. Shoulders hunched; Ryan followed. There was a piercing wail and a flurry of fire truck pyjamas hurtled towards him.
Tyler was bawling as he all but climbed up his older brother’s body. Ryan had to seat himself quickly on the kitchen stool or risk dropping his little brother.
‘He’s been in quite a state, I must say. Has said some quite ridiculous things too. Really, Alice, I think you should cut down on the amount of time he sits in front of the television,’ Aunt Joanne griped. Alice pursued her lips but said nothing.
‘Urgh, anything I can help with?’ Grandpa Jo asked, trying to defuse the tense atmosphere.
Ryan buried his damp face in his brother’s hair. Tears bit into the corners of his eyes. He had missed Tyler so much he had begun to think a fissure was forming in his being. His grip was tight, but Tyler’s was tighter, the tiny fingers surprisingly bruising as he gripped at Ryan’s arms and torso.
‘It’s okay little lemur, I’m here. I came back.’
It took a very long time to calm Tyler down. Aunt Joanne tutted and shot them several disapproving looks. Alice tried to console her youngest but when she tried to take him from Ryan’s arms, the small boy cried louder still. Ryan shook his head, and his mother gave up.
‘He’s been having nightmares,’ Aunt Joanne said, her eyes narrowed. ‘Waking us all up in the night.’ She began serving fish and chips out onto pink patterned plates.
‘I appreciate you looking after him for the last few days,’ Alice said though her tone was rather clipped.
‘Honestly Alice. When are you going to move off that horrible island? It’s no place for children,’ she went on, chattering without seeing the anger on her sister’s face.
‘Those boys need a man, a proper father figure. No offense intended dad,’ Aunt Joanne said. Grandpa Jo was looking very tense. It was like a standoff between two alley cats. Before either could start a real fight the sound of shouting carried down the hall.
‘What is he crying about now!?’ came a girl’s voice.
‘No idea. He’s such a cry-baby!’ said another girl’s voice. Ryan’s cousins, Hazel and Ruth charged into the room. They stopped short at the sight of Ryan and his mother.
‘Oh!’ said Ruth.
‘Dad, they’re here!’ shouted Hazel.
‘About time!’ shouted Uncle Tom.
Everyone shouted in this household. Ryan wished they would stop. He rocked his little brother in his lap.
‘Good grief, you’d think the kid was about a year old the way he carries on,’ Uncle Tom grumbled. At the end of his tether, Ryan opened his mouth to tell his uncle to keep his opinions to himself when Grandpa Jo stepped up and grabbed Tom’s hand rather overenthusiastically.
‘Yes well, it’s been a long journey. We’re all a bit tired and hungry. How are you, Tom?’ Jo asked, shaking the man’s hand with enough force to bordering on violence.
‘Urm, fine thanks,’ Tom said, perplexed.
‘Where have you been?’ Hazel snapped at Ryan, poking him hard in the shoulder.
‘Yeah, it’s been ages. Did you bring us anything?’ Ruth barked.
‘Like what, seaweed? There’s nothing on that island dummie,’ Hazel sneered at her sister. Ruth sniggered.
Ryan glared.
Ryan didn’t like his cousins over much. They were quite like their mother - round, abrasive and over-indulging. Joanne was a woman who, in her opinion, raised her daughters right. They got what they wanted, when they wanted. It didn’t matter that they didn’t do well in school. Doing well in school was ‘unrealistic for the real world’ according to Aunt Joanne.
‘Dinner!’ she bellowed.
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For the first morning, his thoughts of the island were pushed right out of his mind.
He was so relieved to have Tyler safe and with him. The household was full of people. His older cousins bombarded him with questions about shopping and what girls he was seeing and where he was going to move to when he finished school.
Crumpet the Pomeranian barked noisily as the twins got into a fight about what television program to watch whilst Aunt Joanne spoke loudly and constantly over the lot of them. Toast was thrown, Tyler was laughing, and Grandpa Jo challenged Tom to a game of cards. It was utter chaos, and it was exactly what Ryan needed.
He didn’t even mind the rain which was almost constantly pounding down on the tile roof. Aunt Joanne insisted on practically living in the kitchen. She was constantly cooking. When they were done with breakfast, she made a huge bowl of buttered popcorn for the children to go and watch television whilst the adults talked.
In the kitchen… So Aunt Joanne could bake brownies.
Ryan was tossed between feeling grateful for the constant noise and company to hating it immensely. Even going to the bathroom had to be done quickly because someone inevitably pounded on the door demanding for him to hurry up.
Lunch was a full roast with everything from peas, boats of gravy and Yorkshire pudding. Crumpet barked and yipped until someone gave him a titbit of this or that. Crumpet was a very round Pomeranian.
Just like his owners.
If nothing else, Ryan could get back any weight he had lost in the last couple of days with little food. Every meal he had to loosen his belt. Trying to leave the table early or weasel out of extra helpings was a worse crime than uttering a disgusting swearword in this house. Tyler was almost constantly at his side. He would refuse to sit anywhere that wasn’t near Ryan, even at the dining table.
‘It’s not healthy for him to be so attached,’ Aunt Joanne said matter-of-factly. Alice glared. It was a mark of just how worried she was for her sons that Alice didn’t say more. According to Grandpa Jo, the sisters had fought constantly like cats and dogs when they were children. Almost every trip that Ryan could remember had seen a few verbal sparring matches between them. This time though, Alice barely said a word and it looked like it was costing her a great deal.
It wasn’t until late that afternoon whilst they were sitting on the massive expanse of couches sharing the brownies that reality came crashing down.
‘By the way, what is that horrible thing around your neck?’ Ruth piped up from beside her sister. Ryan froze. Tyler looked up at him curiously.
‘Yes, its hideous. Is that the latest fashion with island people these days? Chunky chokers from the 1980s? Your girlfriend has horrible taste,’ Hazel said with a nasty grin.
‘He hasn’t got a girlfriend,’ Tyler chirped.
‘How would you know squirt? You don’t even know what a girlfriend is!’ Ruth sneered.
Tyler went red in the face. ‘Yes, I do!’ he squeaked indignantly.
‘Leave him alone,’ Ryan growled for what felt like the fiftieth time that day.
‘Well?’ Ruth barked. Aunt Joanne was trying to crane her head over the kitchen counter where she had been kneading dough.
‘I can’t see it. Let me have a look, Ryan,’ she cooed. Ryan could feel the blood pounding in his ears and knew his face was probably getting red too.
‘It almost looks like a dog collar,’ Hazel cackled.
‘You would think that,’ Ryan said, trying to keep his voice even.
‘What’s that supposed to mean!?’ she squawked.
‘Nothing,’ he said, pretending to be aloof. He knew this would get a rise out of his cousins, but an argument was better than explaining the collar. He hunched his shoulders a little higher in pretence of getting more comfortable on the massive couch, hiding the heavy collar from the view of the adults behind them.
‘What, you think you’re too good to tell us? Well, whatever, we wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something like that!’ Ruth shouted.
‘Yeah!’ Hazel bellowed.
‘Girls, I can’t hear the television,’ Tom roared.
‘Shut up dad!’ the girls roared back. Brownies were thrown, the dog was barking, and Ryan groaned. He tried not to notice his mother’s anxious expression.
After another massive meal Ryan and Tyler retreated to the spare room. He was glad his aunt and uncle owned such a large house. It had five bedrooms. The idea was to rent the other rooms out in the summer for a bit of extra money. Unsurprisingly though, people never stayed for very long. Grandpa Jo and Alice would be staying in one and Tyler and Ryan would be staying in the other. It was comfortable enough but even being so late, the house was still full of noise. Ryan closed the door to try and cut out some of the din. It helped if only a little.
‘I’m sorry.’ The voice was so tiny Ryan almost thought he imagined it. He turned to see Tyler in his pyjamas, tears running down his little cheeks.
‘Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay,’ Ryan murmured, scooping him up.
‘You left. He took you,’ Tyler sobbed.
‘I know. It’s not your fault though, I promise. I had to go,’ he said uncomfortably.
‘Why?’ Tyler whimpered. Ryan winced. This really wasn’t something he could explain to a five-year-old. Although… if anyone would believe him about magic, mermaids, and pirates it probably would be a five-year-old. He sighed.
‘My dad did some bad things a long time ago. He hurt some people and I need to find a way to make things right. It might take a while and I might have to leave again.’ He winced at his own explanation. It was half assed at best, but he didn’t want Tyler involved in this anymore then he already had been.
Hell.
It was no wonder his younger brother was having nightmares. That image of his brother’s terrified face as he had been dragged under the water was one he would probably never forget.
‘You have to leave again?’ Tyler croaked.
‘Yeah bud,’ Ryan whispered. From somewhere down the hall a door slammed, making them both jump. Hazel was fighting with Tom about something. The words ‘never’ and ‘phone’ were audible.
‘Can I come too?’ Tyler asked. Ryan gave a weak grin.
‘Not this time lemur,’ he said gently.
‘Why not?’ Tyler pouted.
‘It’s not safe.’
‘Is that because they are under water?’ Tyler chirped. Ryan stared.
‘Umm. Yes?’ God, this conversation was getting uncomfortable.
‘What did dad do?’ Ryan groaned and took his little brother over to one of the beds and set him down on it.
‘I’m not entirely sure. That’s what I need to figure out. This is a secret though, okay? Just between you and me,’ he whispered. Tyler looked astonished.
‘Even from grandpa?’ he sniffed. Ryan tucked the blankets tight around his little brother.
‘Yeah. Goodnight buddy,’ he murmured. Tyler blinked sleepily up at him.
‘Goodnight.’ Ryan retreated to his own bed and climbed under the covers. The bed was oddly lumpy, and he missed the smells of his own bedroom. Mainly he missed the quiet with the sound of soft distant ocean waves lulling him to sleep. He rolled over several times. It was a long while before the house settled down. Even without the shouting, pipes creaked, and rain pounded above them. Shivering, Ryan closed his eyes.
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Ryan kept his eyes shut, even in the dream. He knew as he felt his own weightlessness and the soft tugging of his hair that he was under the water.
‘What have you learned?’ Firth’s voice came clearly through the gloom. He opened his eyes.
Deep blue and black surrounded him on all sides. They were drifting, him and the merking. Glittering scales and deep scars caught the dim light.
‘I found my mother,’ Ryan said, feeling he may as well be as truthful as he could. Firth raised an eyebrow.
‘That is of little importance,’ Firth said dismissively.
‘For you maybe. My life is falling apart for all that it matters to you,’ Ryan snapped. There was a change of pressure as Firth was suddenly in front of him. A clawed hand gripped his throat, the other buried in his hair.
‘Your life is of little consequence to me human. Your only goal should be to find a way to break this curse,’ the king snarled, showing rows of sharp teeth. Pain tore at his skull from the fierce grip.
‘Fuck you,’ Ryan spat. Firth sneered, his face utterly inhuman. Then, just as suddenly, it changed. The grip eased and the claws eased under the collar.
‘This,’ he said, yanking on the collar.
‘This makes you mine. This binds you to me. Fight it all you want, say what you want but unless you give me the information I require, I will be sure to use this collar to bring you into complete subservience. Perhaps you need to see what that looks like?’ he crooned. Ryan wrestled with the long iron fingers holding him. He kicked his legs uselessly in the water.
‘You said I had forty-eight hours! Let go of me! What the hell is wrong with you?’ Ryan shouted. Bubbles rose into the water around them. An odd shadow seemed to pass over the merman’s face and the long spindly fingers released him. Ryan stared wide eyed at the creature in front of him.
‘Twenty-four hours. That is all you’ve got,’ Firth said.
The ocean seemed to tip sideways. Ryan was rolled and tossed like a plastic bag in the waves. Over and over until he landed, hard and disorientated back in his bed.
Tyler was peeking at him from the other side of the bedroom.
‘Bad dream?’ Tyler asked, his face pinched with worry. Ryan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
‘Yeah buddy. Just a bad dream,’ he managed to rasp. His scalp still ached.
‘I get those,’ Tyler whimpered. Ryan moved over as his little brother padded across the room and climbed into bed beside him as the rain outside grew heavier and heavier.
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END
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