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I turned a corner and there, right in the middle of the dark tarmac, laid like a police trap across the road, a bright spotlight. It would ensnare us the moment we entered it and there would be no escape.
I swung the steering wheel, swerving around the spotlight, but my success was shortlived as the barrier raced up to meet us and we smashed right through it and plummeted into the dark ravine on the other side.
2
NIGHTEKO
It was a memory. A bad one—one I didn’t want to recall. It ended in disaster. I tried to throw myself from my subconscious but there was nothing I could do.
Someone might have been holding my head in their hands, forcing me to watch, and I was powerless to stop them. I couldn’t even shut my eyes.
My hands were fat and chubby and I waved them in front of my face. I tugged on my mother’s skirt. I could barely reach her waist. She was cooking something—something delicious—and sweet white powder puffed up and burst, drifting down over the side of the table and tinkled my nose, making me sneeze.
Mom raised an elbow and looked down at me through the gap. She beamed and handed me a piece of what she was cooking. I ate it directly from her hand. The flavor conjured all kinds of memories and feelings. It was crunchy and I loved the feel of it on my tongue. It sent a tingle down my throat.
“So that’s where my food’s been going,” a stern voice said.
My mother spun around to see a large Titan male standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He placed his hands on his hips and scowled at the two of us.
“Are you sharing my favorite treats?” he said, voice loud and booming, scary to my infant ears.
“It’s only one,” Mom said. “I’m sure even you can spare that many.”
My father crossed the room on his tree trunk-like legs with two strides. The ground shook at his approach. I looked up fearfully at my mother. Her eyes were fixed firmly on my father. She was going to get the blame for sharing the treats and it was my fault.
I tugged on her skirt and my bottom lip quivered with approaching tears. Then I regained control of my courage and leaped out from behind her skirts. I beat my fists on my chest the way I saw the hairy creatures in the trees did in the jungle behind our hut and braced my father’s shin to hold him back from harming my mother. I barely reached his knees.
“And what do we have here?” he said.
He bent down and picked me up, holding me in front of his face.
“I have a challenger for your love, do I?” he said.
I swung a fist at his face. It connected, striking his cheek and barely made a dent.
His face split into a grin. He raised my shirt with his thumbs and pressed his lips to my belly and blew, making a loud rasping noise. I giggled and laughed, throwing punches and kicks when I could, but he took the blows as if they were nothing.
My father wrapped his huge arms around my mother. I was sandwiched between them. I blew bubbles and enjoyed sharing their warmth.
Then a shout rang out from somewhere outside our hut.
“Defend!” the voice shouted. “Defend yourselves!”
“Get down,” my father said, snatching up his giant sword from the corner. “Hide.”
“Come back to us!” my mother bellowed. “Come back!”
She clutched me close and watched as outside the fires rose and the screaming began—
“Captain? Captain? You need to wake up, sir.”
My eyes burst open and I shot up, grabbing the man’s arm and jabbing a razor-sharp blade at his neck. I stopped an inch from his skin.
Stryder raised his hands in surrender.
I sighed and put the blade away, relieved to finally be freed from the torture my unconscious waged on me each night.
“What is it?” I said.
