Beyond the Open Door

Prologue:

A Dangerous Man

D reams are curious things. Nobody really understands why they have them, or what they mean. Sometimes they can fill you with joy. Other times they thrust fear into you and drown you in their confusion. Many times they give word of the future. Small quantities of people swear that they heard the voice of God whisper to them in their dreams, not that that sort of thing isn’t uncommon. However, nearly every person you come across will tell you that they’ve heard a strange whisper in their dreams. You may not remember it, but it has happened. The voice comes from a man who dwells in darkness. The darkness comes from within him and hovers around him. He is blinded by his own wickedness, and he stumbles blindly forward and forward, achieving nothing as he buries himself deeper in his hole of terror. Because he is so far gone in his hatred for everyday things, he chooses to take out his anger on the innocent man and woman. He is the bringer of nightmares, and the cause of the fear that plagues your nighttime wanderings. He comes in the dark and leaves in the light, leaving nothing in his wake but destruction and chaos. He prefers to dwell in dreams, but once in a blue moon he journeys to the land of reality on peculiar skirmishes, searching for suitable, willing test sub jects.

Late one night, as the moon in the land of dreams crept slowly across the sky like a shining silver bowl being thrown across a room, the man threw himself from his bed and stomped down the dark hallway of his underground sanctuary. He preferred to be beneath the dirt and the grass because that was where the dark and the unknown dwelled, and he found that there was much more space under there than there was in the sun. His black boots caused resounding echoes to dance down the corridor, bouncing off of the polished marble floor and ricocheting off of the cold stone walls. The ceiling brushed against the top of the man’s head, and he pointed his nose to the heavens as if everything he passed were beneath him.

Miratenael! he roared, storming into a room. The inside was dimly lit by a naked bulb hanging from a thin wire. The huge stone slab that was the table covered the middle of the room, taking up as much space as a king sized bed. Deep in the shadows on the far right of the room was an oak door which led presumably nowhere. It was not flanked by walls, and it stood alone. It was eight feet tall and touched the ceiling, and the crude frame was creaking in the breeze caused by the multitude of servants that scurried to and fro across the dirty floor.

Yes, sir! cried one of the servants in answer to his master’s previous statement. He scampered over and bowed hastily.

Get me some food… and for heaven’s sake, get everyone out of here!

The force with which he uttered these last words sent everyone into a frantic surge toward the door. Miratenael left with them, but he returned a few minutes later and produced a tray of fruit from beneath his long cape. His master swept his own cloak to the side and selected a piece of honeydew from the pile of delicacies. Popping it into his mouth, he strolled around the side of the table and brushed his fingers over the smooth stone.

I had a dream about a girl. She had dark brown hair and fierce blue eyes, and she was dressed in armor. She was standing above me with her dagger in her hand, and she was poised as if she were about to kill me.

Perhaps we should see if it’s another test subject? You need more practice if you’re to perfect the serum.

The man waved his hand absently. Fine. Go and find out if she’s in reality. I’m going back to bed.

The servant knelt as the man stormed from the room, carrying a handful of fruit down the hallway with him.

In the morning, Miratenael woke him by knocking insistently on his door. The man rolled out of bed and pushed a hand through his hair, throwing open the door to see what the news was.

I found the girl. She lives in the early twenty-first century. Would you like me to retrieve her?

No, no. I’ll do it myself. The man turned away from the door and tried to shut it, but Miratenael wedged his foot in between the door and the frame.

Sir? he mumbled curiously.

What is it?

This girl… could she be the one to defeat you?

The man glared at Miratenael with all of the anger he could muster.

Nobody can defeat me. Especially a little girl such as that. Until you realize that, you can say goodbye to three meals a day.

Miratenael gulped and saluted respectfully. My apologies, sir. I will not ask again.

The man slammed the door on his servant’s face and turned to face the room in which he slept. The four-poster bed was the prize jewel of the room, laden with rumpled gray sheets. A tall lamp stood in the corner, its feeble glow casting the room into deep shadow. A full-length mirror perched against a wall on the left side of the room, and this the man shuffled toward. He stood in front of it and gazed at the clear, polished glass with a sigh. He passed a hand over his face and flashed a devilish smile at his reflection. He took pride in his good looks, but his arrogance could sometimes take hold of him and make him do unspeakable things.

The man noticed something in the mirror that wasn’t there before and turned around with a laugh.

You just love following me around, don’t you? he grinned, and tromped over to the oak door that took up part of the floor. He curled his hand around the gleaming brass knob and laughed.

Don’t you worry, old friend, he whispered to the wood. Your job is not yet done.

The man was so mysterious that even his closest servants knew nothing about him. They knew not his motives nor his background, or why he did what he did. Wherever he went he cast a shadow, one that not many could withstand.

I met him. I fought him. We know each other well, and by now we greet each other as old friends. That is, before we start fighting to the death. Emily and Aaron know him too. We all hate him. Many people do.

I can’t wait until I can crush him to pieces.

Chapter 1:

Jamie Sage

Jamie, snap out of it!

My eyes flew open and I jumped up, knocking a can of soda all over my lap. Because I was recovering from the shock of being scared out of my daydream, I couldn’t do anything but sit there and stare at the emptying can as Amanda grudgingly swept the sticky liquid from the rough fabric of my jeans.

S-sorry, I muttered absently. I was just…

Thinking? Amanda interrupted impatiently, tossing her long strawberry blond hair behind her shoulder.

Yeah. Exactly.

You do that too much.

I can’t help it! I groaned, letting my head fall into my hands. I just zone out a lot!

She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips to a bottle of water. We both stared across the green football field at the girls and boys running around the track, Amanda’s fingers tapping against her knee insistently as she placed the water bottle on the bleachers beside her.

Are you nervous? I asked.

She pulled the edge of her blue running shorts down over her legs and replied, A little bit.

I’ll be cheering the whole time.

You just have to promise not to zone out while I’m running.

I promise I won’t zone out, I droned impatiently and leaned forward on my elbows to watch the runners finish the race. Amanda took one last gulp from her water bottle and handed it to me, forcing herself to her feet.

So long, I told her encouragingly, giving her a quick hug from where I was sitting. She sprinted down the bleachers and toward the track, her hair flying out behind her.

I pulled at one of my brown curls, turning my head so that my thick hair brushed against my shoulder. The wind tugged at my t-shirt and forced a shiver down my spine.

Amanda stepped up to the starting line and rocked back on her heels, pulling her hair up into a bun at the top of her head. Tracing patterns onto my jeans with my fingernails, I gazed absently at the bleachers in front of me. As my mind unfocused, everything around me started to fade. The creaking of the seats to my left and my right gently extracted itself from my ears. The breeze that ruffled against the napkins used by the observers who had purchased popcorn or ice cream seemed to subside until the air was still around me. The brilliant hues made clear by the sun reflecting off of the green grass of the field were dimmed. The sky was the color of a sparkling sapphire, but the tint was less bright to me. The smell of greasy hot dogs and French fries used to turn my stomach over, but it no longer bothered me. The rough fabric of my jeans brushed against my fingertips and numbed them, while the sweat from the early summer heat made my soft shirt stick to my back. I could barely taste the residue of my spilled Coke on the tip of my tongue. Everything was so distant when I didn’t have to notice it. Having to pay attention to certain things angered me. I hated it when people talked for too long, or tried to distract my thinking. I would so much rather sit alone, imagining a different world, created just for me. It was almost as good as dreaming.

I let my mind wander around, flitting from one thought to the next. I didn’t even notice that the runners were already sprinting across the track, or that the sun was setting. I couldn’t discern whether or not Amanda had taken the lead. I didn’t recognize anybody. My mind was too far away.

Jamie! Did you even pay any attention? Amanda demanded. My head snapped back so I could stare at her in shock.

Is the race over? I questioned in bewilderment.

The race? The whole meet is over! I’ve done all of my events!

Sure enough, I noticed as I slowly glanced around, the sun was setting and people were streaming toward their cars. Amanda was sweaty and red in the face, poised with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows drawn together threateningly.

I-I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—

I don’t need excuses. You’re my friend, and you should be supporting me. With that, she turned on her heel and stomped away.

Amanda, wait! I called, but she just ignored me.

I sighed and pressed my head to my knees, groaning quietly. I should really just stop zoning out and focus on what really matters.

After I cleared my head, I stood up and climbed down the bleachers. Nearly everybody had left, and the sun was just a sliver of light above the parking lot pavement. My dad was going to pick me up, but he was running late. I sat on the turf of the football field, letting the artificial light of the overhead lamps fall across my face. The coaches and referees lingered for a bit, but nobody bothered me. Parents took their children by the hand and dragged them toward their cars, and the track members shouted and cheered as they celebrated their apparent victory. I sat there and stared at the happenings, chewing on my bottom lip and scanning the people’s faces.

An hour later, my phone started to ring. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it.

Hello? I asked, suppressing a yawn.

Jamie, where are you? my dad demanded. You were supposed to be home and hour ago!

I sighed and pressed my palm to my forehead. Dad, I said calmly, I’ve been waiting for you to come pick me up.

The other end was silent, and then I heard him whisper angrily under his breath. Finally, he replied, I’m on my way. Just hang tight.

I’m not going anywhere, I yawned and hung up the phone. I sprawled back on the turf and slid my hands under my head, closing my eyes.

When I opened them again, I was in my car, tucked into my seat with my seatbelt securing me to the upholstery. My father was sitting next to me, maneuvering along a winding road.

Dad? I mumbled, rubbing my palms along my eyes. My thoughts were muggy, but I managed to clear them enough to register the time on the dashboard. I had been asleep for half an hour.

Hey, sleepyhead, he said with a smile, reaching over to squeeze my hand. If you find any bruises on your legs, don’t blame me. You’re so tall; your feet kept sticking out when I was carrying you to the car.

I rolled my eyes and pressed my forehead to the cool glass of the window, my breath causing fog to reach out across the smooth surface.

I got you some food if you didn’t eat, Dad said, gesturing beneath my feet. I grabbed the Wendy’s bag from beneath the glove compartment and pulled out some fries, shoving them into my mouth.

Did you have a good time? he asked.

Yeah, it was fine, I said through a mouthful of chicken nuggets.

You didn’t space out for Amanda’s events, right?

At my silence, he groaned. You did, didn’t you?

I didn’t mean to, I protested quietly.

But Jamie, you’ve got to get ahold of yourself. You’re twelve years old. You should know when to pay attention!

I’m sorry. I just can’t control myself. It’s just like my dreams, Dad. They’re all so real.

Did you have any dreams while you were sleeping on the turf?

Yes. The kids were there again. You know, the blonde boy and the brunette girl?

Do they appear in your dreams a lot?

Yeah. But they never seem to do anything. They just stand there, like they’re waiting for something.

Dad turned into our neighborhood with a sigh and pulled up our driveway. As we got out of the car, he said, Maybe you should talk to somebody about these dreams. They might be able to tell what they mean.

Dad, stop. You’re making me feel like I have some sort of mental issue.

But someone might be able to help you.

"Please. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I’m fine, honestly.

Dad wrapped his arm around me. Fine. I won’t call a professional. But if it gets any worse, you have to tell me.

I will.

He opened the front door for me, and I bounced inside.

My living room met my gaze first. The bright red couch that was tucked in a corner stood out from the other furniture: an old rocking chair that only had one armrest, a blue recliner that was overstuffed and covered in soft fabric, and a black coffee table that was laden with remotes and coasters. My mother was asleep on the couch, and the television was off. The computer was playing Frank Sinatra in the kitchen, and my dad left the front room to go turn it off. When the sound of Sinatra’s voice had ceased, my mother opened her eyes and yawned.

John, are you home? she mumbled, sitting up. She had blonde hair like my dad’s, and it was pulled up into a messy bun. Her pale skin stood out against the deep red of the couch, and she smiled a gorgeous smile when she saw me.

Yeah, I’m home, Dad called from the kitchen.

Hey, sweetie, she said to me. Did you have a good time at the meet?

Yeah, I did, I answered.

Dad walked in and grabbed a remote from the coffee table.

She zoned out and missed the whole meet, he stated plainly, plopping down in the recliner with a sigh.

Jamie, really? Mom scolded, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. You need to stop!

I can’t, Mom! I groaned, setting the Wendy’s bag on the table. You don’t understand! It just happens, like I can’t control it!

Honey, you might need to talk to a professional if this gets worse.

That’s what I told her, my dad agreed, turning on the TV

Dad, you’re not helping.

How often do you zone out, Jamie? my mom continued.

Mom, it doesn’t matter. I’m fine, okay?

Mom rolled her eyes and rested on the pillows of the couch again. I’m not doing this tonight. Finish your meal, Jamie, then go to bed.

Grudgingly, I snatched the Wendy’s bag. I trudged up the stairs and into my messy, bright blue room, collapsing on the bed and running my fingers over the smooth fabric of my quilt. After resting there for a few seconds with my eyes closed, I pushed myself to my feet and toward my old brown dresser. I pulled out an old t-shirt and some pajama pants, yanking them on sloppily. I sat at my desk and stared at my many notebooks and drawings. If I could only get ahold of my imagination, then my friends and family wouldn’t be so mad at me.

I turned around and examined my room. Movie posters and drawings of fairytale creatures plastered the walls, and my furniture looked like they were from a medieval castle. The window to the left of my bed was framed by two thick blue curtains, which I pulled apart in order to gaze at the stars. I had a pitiful view of a small cluster of trees next to a golf course, but at night I could hear the leaves rustling and I would imagine that I was trapped in a jungle, or rampaging through a huge forest.

I flopped back down on my bed with my face on my pillow.

The smell of the fast food drew me toward the paper bag, and I reached to shove the chicken nuggets into my mouth. When I had finished my food, I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and flipped open the lid. The screen blinked to life, and I set the computer down on the bed.

Quietly, I got up and slipped into the hallway. My parents were still downstairs watching TV. I snuck into my dad’s study and flipped on the lights. By the far wall was a large brown bookcase, which was full of movies. I selected one of my favorites, Star Wars Episode VI, and snuck back into my room.

I watched the movie until I was too tired to concentrate. Slamming the lid closed on my computer, I rolled over and clicked off the light on my nightstand.

I fell asleep and was instantly trapped in the wonderful world of my imagination.

Many days passed in the same way. I would wake up, go to school, come home, watch television, do homework, and go to bed. It was boring, tiring, and I hated every second of it. My dad didn’t call a professional, but I could tell that he and my mom wanted to. I passed the time ignoring their worried looks as best as I could, watching Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings with my headphones stuck deep in my ears.

Two weeks after the track meet, I awoke to a loud rapping on my door.

Jamie! Get up! Time for school! my mom called.

I groaned as I slowly and reluctantly crawled out of bed, but, once I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I was able to function enough to pull on some jeans and a sweatshirt.

My dad greeted me in the kitchen with a smile as I staggered down the stairs sleepily. He handed me a muffin and whispered, Pay attention at school today, Jamie.

I nodded and sat down at the counter to bite into the muffin. My daydreaming had gotten much worse. My grades were dropping, and my parents were getting frustrated. I zoned out on the bus and in class, at home and in the car. I found that I could even unintentionally fall into a daydream while walking and slam into passersby.

My mother poked her head into the kitchen and beckoned for my dad to join her in the living room.

Before Dad followed her, he turned to me. The bus is almost here. Try to concentrate. For me.

I cocked a smile. I promise I will.

He nodded and walked from the room. When I had finished my chocolate chip muffin, I grabbed my backpack from the floor and walked to the front door. My parents turned away from their conversation and waved encouragingly at me, blowing kisses as I waved back.

Slowly, I opened the door and stepped out into the sun. The cool wind caressed my face and hair and reminded me that summer was on its way, with hot, sticky sunlight and humid air. I loved the winter much more, because the snow reminded me of Narnia and the fun adventures that Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter got to have. If I could only find someplace like that, where I could be alone with my thoughts and the never-ending fun.

Cut it out, I scolded myself. Concentrate. I made a promise to my dad, and I was not going to zone out.

After school that day, Amanda intercepted me as I was walking out of the front door.

You did well, I’m surprised at you! she exclaimed happily, slinging her arm through mine.

What did I do well at again? I questioned.

"You didn’t zone out today during class!’

Well, I tried my hardest to concentrate.

Amanda let go of my arm and walked beside me as we crossed the parking lot, heading toward the bus.

Sometimes I think you just space out because you don’t care about anything. You tend to do it when you’re being forced to do something you don’t want to do. I know that feeling. I like to zone out sometimes, too. What I do instead is…

Her voice faded away as I lost focus. Everything around me seemed blurry. I couldn’t help but think about something else, anything else. What I was having for dinner that night crossed my mind. My dreams plagued my thoughts. Who were the two children in my head? What were they waiting for? The sound of my footsteps echoed inside me. My heart rate slowed, and I started to stumble.

JAMIE! somebody screamed, but I couldn’t snap out of it fast enough. Something hard slammed into me, knocking me to the hard asphalt. The world started to spin. The ground beneath me scratched my face and hands, and I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. Amanda bent over me, her eyes alive with fear. A man and a woman looked down at me. The woman was on her phone, shouting something that I couldn’t make out. I couldn’t hear anything except for the rush of blood in my ears. I raised a shaking hand to my forehead, and my fingers came away sticky and warm.

Jamie, say something! Amanda mouthed. Her hair brushed against my cheek, but I could barely feel it. Dark spots danced before my eyes, blocking my vision. Slowly, I let my muscles relax onto the pavement and closed my eyes. Sleep sounded nice. Maybe I could just lay here for a little while…

I didn’t know where I was when consciousness swept through me. My head spun and pounded against my skull. My body felt like it was filled with lead, although with enough concentration I was able to lift my hand and feel what was holding me down. Thick, leathery straps secured my waist to a bed, and a blanket kept me warm. I could smell hand sanitizer and freshly washed sheets.

Hello? I murmured, forcing my eyelids open. The first thing I saw was a white, paneled ceiling. I heard the soft swish of fabric as somebody stood up and leaned over me. It was a man in a black suit and black glasses, smiling a handsome yet intimidating smile down at me.

Don’t be alarmed, Jamie. I’m just here to talk to you, he said in a gentle tone. He sat down on a chair next to my bed.

Where are my parents? I asked.

Your family is right here. Don’t worry.

I turned my head to the side and saw my mother and father through a glass window, waving and smiling joyfully. My mother looked relieved at seeing me awake, and my father seemed apologetic for some reason. His hand was clenched around my mother’s fingers.

Why am I here? I whispered faintly.

The man sat back against his chair. Your father called me earlier this morning to ask if I could talk to you about your daydreaming. When we found out that you had been hit by a bus while doing just that, he asked if I could come while you were still in bed. He said, and I quote, ‘She’ll be less likely to punch you when she’s tired.’

I rolled my eyes at my father’s words. I wouldn’t punch a psychologist.

Do you want something to drink? the man asked.

Some water would be nice, I answered. He stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone for a few seconds. I could barely move because of my aching head. The long bed took up most of the room, and tables full of strange instruments lined the left side of the room. The glass window was on the right, as was the small plastic chair that the psychologist had been sitting in.

The man returned with a cup of water. He helped me sit up and lean back on some pillows.

What’s the strap for? I inquired, indicating the leather around my waist.

I don’t really know, he answered, sitting back down.

I downed the cup of water and sat back against the pillows, trying to calm the pounding of my brain.

Jamie, tell me, do you dream at night often?

Yeah. My dreams are usually really weird.

What do they consist of?

I paused for a second. A boy and a girl, side by side, watching and waiting for something.

Do you know what they’re waiting for?

Not really.

The man crossed his legs with a smile. Do you sometimes wish you could just escape the world?

All the time.

Where would you go?

Anywhere. I would have adventures, and I would engage in sword fights, and I would defeat dragons.

That would be fun, wouldn’t it? he said with a smile.

Very. I yawned, drowsiness sweeping over me.

What if I told you that these adventures were possible?

I would tell you that you’re completely mad.

The man laughed, and I closed my eyes. Are you tired? he asked.

A little bit.

Now, don’t be scared, okay?

Why would I be scared? I inquired, turning my head into my pillow tiredly. My head felt much better, but my limbs were heavy. I wished I could just fall asleep and never wake up.

You’re going to wake up far away from here, probably in a place you don’t recognize. But it’s going to be fine, because those two children will be with you.

What are you talking about? I yawned.

I gave you a medicine that’ll put you to sleep. You might not wake up for a while. Or ever, really.

What? What are you saying? I suddenly felt alarmed. I tried to sit up, or to open my eyes. I couldn’t do either. My thoughts were muddled. I couldn’t concentrate.

Good night, Jamie. I’ll see you in your dreams.

Wha—what’s happening to me? I mumbled against my pillow. My fright disappeared. I was just exhausted.

Sweet dreams, Jamie Sage.

Mom? I yawned. Dad?

I heard a small chuckle escape the man’s lips. I couldn’t shake myself awake. Sleep sounded so nice. I never wanted to wake up.

With a final sigh, I sank into my own vast, unlimited thoughts…

Chapter 2:

Aaron and Emily

I felt like I had been hit by the bus again. My cheek was once again pressed to solid, uncomfortable asphalt, and my head was spinning wildly. My arms and legs were heavy, but I wasn’t hurt. It was as if I had just awoken from a good night’s sleep.

Slowly, I breathed in. The smell was different and strange. Of course, I could recognize it. It was a smell that accompanied the many smore parties my family had started in the backyard. However, the scent was stronger, and it gave me a different feeling. It was the odor that came with a scorching fire.

A heavy cloud of dark smoke shrouded my body, suffocating me slowly. I breathed out with a cough and clapped my hand over my mouth and nose. Opening my eyes, I used my other hand to fan the smoke as best as I could. The sweltering heat that came with the smoke made the skin on my palms turn bright pink.

I could just barely see through the thick haze. People surrounded me: women with children in their arms; men with suits and ties trying to usher the others out; teens holding their siblings to their chests; screaming babies looking for their mothers. A man grabbed my arm and lifted me to my feet, pushing me toward the throng of people rushing toward the door of the building I was in. I started to get confused. Was I still in the hospital? The smoking remains of the surrounding room didn’t look like the lobby of a hospital. It actually seemed to be the lobby of a hotel. A toppled couch was just feet from me, covered in white hot flames. Overturned chairs billowed smoke, and the reception desk was just starting to catch fire.

I sprinted out the door. The parking lot didn’t look much better than the interior of the hotel. The majority of the vehicles were engulfed in tongues of fire. My breathing became heavy and forced, while my head started to throb. Confusion wafted through my aching limbs. What in the world was I doing there?

I slowed my pace and turned on my heel to stare at the place I had sprinted out of. The top three floors of the fifteen-story building had been completely demolished by something unknown.

I stood there and gaped. What was going on? I glanced down at my clothes. My hospital gown had disappeared and was replaced with dark jeans and a black jacket, which was zipped up over a blue t-shirt. I was practically invisible because of the dark sky.

LOOK OUT! someone screamed. The owner of the voice slammed into me, and we went rolling into the side of a minivan. An immense explosion caused the pavement that I had been standing on to cave in. A wave of heat washed over me and my rescuer, scorching the skin on my hands and face.

I leaned against the side of the van and took a deep, shaking breath. The boy who had saved me was kneeling beside me, and he had his arms clenched around me. His back was facing the heat; he had been shielding me from the blast, regardless of his own life. Hearing my frantic gasps, he let go of me and leaned back to see if I was hurt.

Are you alright? he inquired with a gentle voice.

I’m fine, I whispered, rubbing my head. I had hit it on the wheel of the van, but the dizziness was caused more by confusion.

Are you sure? he persisted, noticing my pained expression.

Yes, I’m sure.

We locked gazes. He stared at me with intense brown eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together tightly. He had blonde hair that was flecked with bits of brown, and it fell sloppily across his forehead. Small freckles dotted his pale nose and cheeks.

I’m Aaron, he muttered, placing his palms flat on the pavement and pushing himself to his feet.

Jamie, I replied, reaching to grab his outstretched hand. He pulled me into a standing position, placing his hand on my shoulder to steady me. Although he couldn’t have been more than a year older than me, he seemed mature and wise.

Thank you for saving me, I whispered.

He shrugged. Don’t mention it.

I tucked some of my hair behind my ear. I didn’t know whether or not to leave and find my own way through this crazy place, or stay