Zach poured over the pages for what felt like the hundredth time. And still, there was nothing. Try as he might to remember it the way Oliver had seen it, he couldn’t remember having a single dream or any of the conversations Oliver had had with the people his entries referred to as beings. He couldn’t even remember the towers.

  What frustrated him more was the fact that the wall kept him from accessing his own. Perhaps he’d dreamed of the same things back in his world. Perhaps he’d walked the same mysterious halls, spoken to the same mysterious beings, and made the same mysterious plans.

  “It’s all shot to hell,” he cussed before remembering Noah’s advice to adapt to their way of speaking.

  This world didn’t have a hell, or rather, the name didn’t exist; the concept, on the other hand, was alive and thriving. Tettralis, the country that existed in this space before Camp Twelve, was known as a Hepton nation. Followers of creation.

  It was one of the leading religions that had participated in the Last War, proclaiming itself as the ultimate truth in a world full of liars and pretenders. Of course, the other religions had proclaimed the same thing, leading to the devastating war that had ravaged civilization.

  Though it seemed that war had done more damage than a ravaged civilization. That clash had brought about the Knocking. A fact the world seemed to agree on, though none of them knew how. It was amazing what Oliver’s mind revealed, even as he sat there on the couch, alone in the apartment.

  Revealing everything but what I need it to.

  He tossed the pages onto the table, throwing himself back into the dusty cushions. Since it was impossible to answer any of the questions these pages raised, he went back to the Dreamhold. The sooner they fixed this, the sooner he could focus on figuring out the mysteries of his being here.

  He got up and walked to Noah’s loose board. The afternoon light outside painted a golden picture of the Camp. He didn’t remove the board—outside, during the day, people would’ve seen that—but was staring out through the small gap before it touched the one set underneath it.

  People were walking the streets below, dressed in drab clothing, blades of grass stuck to their old shirts, faded jeans, worn-out skirts, all of them looking tired and red from working under the sun.

  The Agricultural Function, he remembered.

  It suddenly dawned on him that Oliver had been close to being placed in a Function. Everyone in the Camp had to contribute somehow, and when the children turned eighteen, they were placed in a Function by the council.

  He shook his head. Of all things, it had to be a dystopian world.

  Someone squinted up at the sky, as if checking the weather. Zach took a step back, realizing he could see the person in stark detail, down to the mole sitting just underneath his left nostril.

  Another ability granted by the First String.

  Even as that knowledge popped into his head, his vision went blurry, or rather, it went back to the way it should’ve been, looking down at someone from this high up. He strained his eyes, physically concentrating on widening his eyelids, before it went clear again. But the strain was too much to sustain for long. This would take work, practice.

  “I wonder...” he whispered to himself.

  “... won’t rain tonight,” the man said.

  “I sure hope not,” a woman beside him echoed. “I hate working when the ground’s all muddy.”

  Zach smiled, reveling in the strange sensation of perspective. They were separated by the height of an entire building, but he could hear them as though they were standing in the apartment with him, or him down there with them.

  “... you think they’ll actually do it?” someone else asked.

  He searched the street, looking for whoever had said that. Then, all of their conversations were coming at him, a confusing mix of murmurs that he had to sort through to find whoever had uttered those words.

  He latched onto different conversations about the weather, about the hours they’d spent in the fields, about someone who’d gotten pregnant before he found the conversation he’d been looking for.

  “... always wondered why we didn’t just expel them the minute they started communing with whatever demons they see.”

  “Releasing them into the Camp would be a mistake. I don’t care what that lix says.”

  Zach winced from a deeply ingrained social taboo. That word was a slur. More importantly, they were discussing the Dreamhold. It’s just like what Noah’s brother had mentioned. The stranger, evidently from Ospelia, judging from the slur.

  From what Zach could tell of their fears, and from Oliver’s when he’d still been living outside, everyone feared the Dreamers because of the possibility of the demon’s breaking through their Dreams and into the world.

  Something that, thanks to the Head’s leadership, no one in this Camp had ever experienced firsthand. But the Dreamers in this building had been stuck in here for months now, without incident.

  Except mine, of course.

  He remembered Ava’s reaction to seeing him. If the entire Camp witnessed that, that there were some who could speak, who could feed themselves, and work for their share, Zach was sure it would go a long way in easing their fears. To convince them they just needed some time.

  But what did that look like?

  He looked back down, scanning the faces idly, until he spotted Ava walking down the street directly in front of the Dreamhold building, rows of smaller apartment buildings lining it on either side.

  She carried her bag slung around her arm and was speaking to a man who walked beside her. Zach deepened his focus in his eyes, getting a clearer view of the man, and found it was his father. John Emery.

  He strained his ears, cutting through all the noise of the other conversations, until he picked up on Ava’s faint voice.

  “... I’ll show you where we think he’s been hiding, but he wasn’t there. We searched the entire building, John—we couldn’t find him.”

  “I know, Ava, but I have to try. To see for myself. With Evie in the coma, I need to know at least someone in my family is doing better.”

  His eyes and ears reached their limit. His senses were pulled back to his immediate surroundings, but he could still see them. Two vague shapes heading this way. Looking for him. He walked back into the room, his eyes studying the floor. The early beginnings of an idea were starting to form.

  The air in the room rushed outward, pressing against his sensitive ears and making him wince against the pain. He looked up and found Noah standing by the couch, in the exact same spot he always Stepped to.

  “We need to leave,” he said, picking up the pages and the bag they shared the table with. “Ava’s coming back. She might just be here to heal the Dreamer on the first floor, but she’s not alone. Lucas heard your father was coming with her. Oliver’s father, I mean.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Why don’t you want to be found?” Zach asked.

  “I already told you.”

  “Yes, you did, but why?”

  Noah looked back at him and took a minute before answering. “I can’t be distracted. And that’s what being out there would be. A distraction. In here, I can go on without being disturbed. At least, I could.”

  Zach nodded. “I think I thought of a way to help the other Dreamers. Or the first step, at least.”

  “And that is?”

  “By talking with Ava and my father. If we show them that Dreamers do awaken, give them proof that Dreamers do awaken, they won’t condemn so many people who might wake up one day.”

  Noah lowered his hand, clutching Oliver’s pages firmly. In thought, he smacked the stack softly against the side of his thigh. He opened his mouth, then pursed his lips to the side.

  “When I woke up, I found three Dreamers on this floor. They weren’t Claimed by our Forces. They were barely through the First String; not everyone survives the Claiming, and not everyone can transmute.

  “Still, they were awake, and none of them tried leaving because they knew what people thought of them... Oliver’s memories haven’t all come back yet, so I can’t blame you, but they do not care for Dreamers.”

  Zach sighed. “Just... Do you trust me?”

  “Not particularly, no,” Noah said immediately with a straight face.

  “Well, why the hell not? I told you the truth, didn’t I?”

  “I don’t know you, and I told you to stop using that word.”

  “Fine,” Zach conceded. “But if you’re going to help me, it’s only right that I help you. If that letter is anything to go by, we won’t be able to do this without trust. And that goes both ways. Besides, do you even have a plan?”

  “Not in the traditional sense,” Noah answered.

  “You can’t just say no?” Zach asked with a sigh.

  “I just did.”

  This... “Okay, then. Fine. We’re settled. I’ll speak with Ava and my father, maybe I’ll even say the other Dreamers are close to waking up as well.”

  “I’m not speaking with them. You want my trust, fine. But I’m not meeting with them. As far as they know, I’m just like the others, lost in some dream, mumbling to myself like an idiot. I want to keep it that way.”

  Zach nodded slowly. There was almost real panic in his eyes; he caught the barest hint of it, but it was there. He shoved that knowledge to the side, telling himself he’d come back to it at a later stage.

  “That’s fine. I won’t mention you. But they will eventually look for you, won’t they?”

  “Once they bring Dreamers in here, we’re left alone, other than the occasional food drop for the ones they think might eat and checks by the Medical Function during that first week. You’re the first one they’ve ever checked up on like this.”

  “So, your family won’t want to know about you, too?”

  “I only have my brother, and he knows I’m fine. Do what you have to do,” his tone suddenly hardened. “I’ll Step back into the apartment when they’ve left the building.”

  Without another word, without waiting for his response, Noah Stepped away, the air in the room rushing in to fill the space where he’d been standing. Zach frowned. What had made him so cold?

  Right after I asked him about his family, he noted.

  Yet another thing he couldn’t focus on right now. He peeked onto the street below, trying to find Ava and his father. Oliver’s father. A quiet shame came to him with that reminder. A shame that had nothing at all to do with Oliver’s life.

  The emotion was so powerful, so intense, he immediately shoved it aside, his heart fluttering and feeling like he was falling from a great height. This was all Zach’s, a hint at what lay beyond that mental wall, but he wanted none of it.

  Squinting, he saw no sign of them. They must’ve already entered the building. He turned around and found that he was biting the flesh around his right thumb. He’d already drawn a small amount of blood.

  What was that shame?

  No. Not now.

  He left the apartment and went down the flight of stairs. Though he’d told Noah the truth about his transmigration, he was not foolish enough to think that the rest of them would receive the news so readily.

  Already, they were wary of Dreamers; if he came out and said he was from another world, any hopes he had of potentially integrating back into camp would be as good as gone. He’d have to play this smart. Noah was right. As far as they were all concerned, his name was Oliver Emery.

  He was trying to recall all the conversations he could remember between Oliver and his father, though it seemed forcefully pulling Oliver’s memories made it more difficult to access them, when he stepped onto the fourth floor, directly into his father.

  John Emery stood there in an old jacket, khaki pants, and brown leather boots. Had there been any doubt about the First String’s power, it was now set aside. This was the first time Zach could make out this much detail in this dim light.

  “Oli?” his father asked hesitantly.

  “It’s me, Dad,” Zach responded, doing his best to hide the bitter taste the word brought him.

  “You’re actually awake.”

  Zach only nodded, more so from not knowing what to say than trying to imitate Oliver’s personality.

  “How’s this possible?” his father asked.

  On his father’s question, someone from an apartment just down the hall started groaning to himself, moaning low at the back of his throat. His eyes tracked things only he could see, though Zach had a good idea of what that was.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  Like any good lie, he mixed it with some truth. “I was paralyzed. I knew Ava was treating my wounds, but I couldn’t talk with her. I was just... trapped. Next thing I knew, I woke up.”

  “Ava?” his father asked, taken aback by his use of her first name.

  Your first slip up! Idiot!

  Zach made sure he looked abashed. He lowered his head.

  “Where were you yesterday? Ava said they couldn’t find you.”

  “There’s an apartment upstairs on the seventh floor. I was in one of the bedrooms there.”

  His father said nothing. Just stared at him. From Oliver’s past interactions with his father, Zach knew John Emery rarely showed emotion. The way he currently stood, staring silently, was the closest he could come to expressing shock.

  “There’s something you should know, about your mother. She fell ill, complained about headaches. A few days ago, she fell into a coma. She looks healthy enough, the hospital’s been feeding her milk.”

  “I heard there’s a stranger who's been speaking about the Dreamhold,” Zach said.

  His father blinked, his eyebrows slightly raised.

  Idiot! He just told you your mother’s in a coma, act accordingly.

  “I heard he’s trying to empty the Dreamhold or something. I could see her,” he said amended.

  “Are you the only one?” his father asked.

  Sensing the perfect opportunity, Zach said, “I haven’t met anyone else. But they’re close. I can feel it. They have the same signs I had before I woke up.”

  His father nodded.

  “Oli, we have to hide you. They’re going to use you as an experiment. A few days ago, two outsiders arrived, one of them from the north, where he says the Dreamers no longer have visions. Or hear the knocking. The Camp’s itching to see if it’s true. Now that you’re awake, they’ll use you.”

  “Use me?”

  “He says he can prove it, probably by using his book. But if we don’t get you safely—”

  “John,” a voice said gently.

  Ava came walking up the stairs, joining them on the fourth floor. “You know we can’t do that. Everyone knows about him now.”

  “Because you told them.”

  “I was trying to help Oliver,” she said indignantly. “ The council didn’t inform us about the outsiders. That said, I’m sorry for putting him in danger. But they do know about him now. Besides, the man might be telling the truth. Oliver did wake up. Maybe-maybe it’s really over.”

  “When?” Zach asked, not liking the tone in their voices.

  “That’s why your father’s here. The Head asked him to bring you down,” Ava said softly.

  “It will happen on the execution platform,” John said. “Pass or fail, it will be in front of the entire Camp.”

  Zach flinched, remembering the gunshot, the pain he’d been forced to endure. The look on his father’s face promised this so-called experiment wouldn’t be much different. If only he could Step like Noah...

  But it was too late to entertain thoughts of escape. He’d wanted to make a statement, to show that the Dreamers in the Dreamhold still had hope. Well, it turned out that to do just that, he had to march out with his father.

  He had to be an experiment.

  bible)