I peel the mask away from my face and toss off the headphones. I take in my surroundings and remember I'm in a hotel room. In Bangladesh. My stomach rolls. Ugh. I'm going to get sick. I haven't thrown up after visiting the Dreamscape in a long time. I stumble into the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before I throw up. My hands won't stop shaking, even after I wash them and splash water over my face.
"Are you okay?" Sun races to my side. "Why did you fade? What happened?"
"It's fine. I'm fine. Just didn't acclimate well."
"Okay, you had me worried there." She squeezes my arm. "Take your time and get some water. I've got to get back to monitoring the Dreamscape."
Before I've taken two steps out of the bathroom, Jake is standing before me and wraps his arm around my waist to steady me.
"You okay?" he asks.
I look into his eyes to find real concern. Maybe it's the whole queasiness of not being in my sleep pod or it's having everything flying out of my control, but suddenly I want to leave the whole dream thing behind and just sink into his arms and pretend we're back at his house prepping for another psychology presentation.
"I am now." My voice is a whisper, meant only for him.
His eyes lower to focus on my lips. "You did the right thing. Getting out of there. But I've got to say the dream version of you was pretty kick-ass."
I roll my eyes at that, and he helps me to the dresser where Sun has Dad's laptop set up and the lone chair pulled to it. Behind us lies Mr. Bosu on the bed, still sleeping. Tony and Javier are also still sound asleep on the other floor mats. I dig my fingers into my jeans pocket until I'm touching Dad's watch. Somehow it makes everything better.
"Next time," I say. "Let's get the hotel suite."
"Next time?" Jake grins as he hands me a water and a package of some type of cookies we bought at the hotel gift shop. "Are you like asking me out on an extended date?"
I hit him on the arm, but Sun shushes us, glancing furtively at the sleeping figures.
"They're at some type of resort at the beach," she explains. "I just can't pinpoint where it is at."
I squint at the screen as I take a sip of water. The top window has three streaming codes running across it, one from each dreamer. Then below that is the dream sequence music that Sun is inputting into the dreamer's ears. Finally, in another box is the visual display. There's a slight delay as the computer tries to transfer the three dreamer's visuals into one, but it gives a fairly good representation.
Thatched-roofed cabanas overlook an ocean with crystal blue water. Palms wave across a purple sunset. The place is like paradise. But instead of relaxing by the beach, Mr. Bosu, still wearing his suit, is running along the shore, panting heavily.
"What's he doing?" I whisper.
"It looks like he's trying to run away," Jake murmurs.
Suddenly my dream self appears and begins gliding across the beach, holding that globe from his desk. I'm now wearing a bikini top and a sarong wrapped around my waist. My hair flies about me and my green eyes glow, staring intently at Mr. Bosu like I'm some type of enchantress.
"Wow," Jake says. "You look sexy."
"You're kidding, right?" I mutter.
"What are you holding?" Jake asks.
"That stupid globe from his desk," I say. My stomach rolls again and a trail of sweat beads along my forehead. "I was trying to use it to distract him as I took out the thumb drive."
"Wait, look," Sun says. "You're doing something with it. Wow, it's like he's really terrified of you."
"Or maybe he thinks you're bad luck," Jake adds. "Red hair and all. Didn't you spill tea all over this desk?"
Mr. Bosu backs away from me. On the bed behind us, the real Mr. Bosu begins muttering words I can't understand.
"He's talking in his sleep," Jake whispers. "Is that bad?"
"Not unless he wakes up." Sun moves the mouse over the screen and clicks on a calming sound sequence.
But obviously, that doesn't work because Mr. Bosu turns away from my dream self and takes off running down a cobblestone path with bamboo fences lining the way.
"He's going into REM again," I say.
"Let's try this sound then." Sun clicks on a 'waves crashing' button.
Instantly the rush of crashing waves fills the Dreamscape. Everything else is silent. Mr. Bosu's feet slow to a brisk walk. He rounds the corner and stands in front of a bamboo door. It rattles as he tries to rip it open, but it remains locked in place.
Sweat drips down his face as he glances over his shoulder.
"The dude looks freaked out," Jake says. "For some reason, he's really scared of you, Aria."
"I don't like it," Sun says. "It's like he knows who Aria really is."
"Look there." Jake points to the top of the screen where a sign reads: Surfside Resort and Spa.
I shrug. "It could be a clue, or it could mean nothing."
"Often dreams are representations of actual things," Sun explains to Jake. "Like if you see a mode of transportation it could be a reflection of the direction you are taking in your life or how much control you have over it. Or if you encounter paralysis it could mean you feel a lack of control, or it just could be that between REM and waking. Most of what we do is guesswork. Having a patient's psychoanalysis is what really helps us."
Mr. Bosu continues to rattle the door for a while until soon he sinks to the ground and in a rush, all fades to complete darkness.
"What happened?" Jake says, alarmed.
We all turn to those sleeping. Javier and Tony both stir.
"He's waking!" Sun scrambles to the counter and puts more Temazepam into the syringe. "Can't have him wake up."
She plunges the liquid into his system and then unhooks him from the Dreamscape. Meanwhile, Tony and Javier are sitting up. Tony staggers into the bathroom and throws up. Javier remains on his mat, looking paler than usual. Dark circles ring his eyes and his cheeks seem hollower.
"You're not getting enough to eat," Sun scolds him, but she gently places her hands on his shoulders.
Javier takes the water Sun offers him. "The transition is rough without the equipment we have at MaxLife."
When Tony returns to the room, I pass him a water bottle as well.
"Tell me we've got food here." Tony picks up a package on the counter and holds it up, frowning. "What's this?"
"A local snack," I say, and then grab one and toss it to Javier. "They're like sweet crackers. Not bad."
"But a burger would be good," Tony points out.
"You guys should get him into the taxi sooner than later." Sun is nervously massaging her fingers.
"Yeah," Javier says. "Just give me a minute to recover."
"Any leads?" I ask.
"Nothing," Tony says. "After you left, we entered a beach resort. Didn't seem like anything nearby either."
"Yeah, it definitely didn't look like something from Bangladesh," Javier says. "There was an ocean, so maybe it was the Bay of Bengal. But the dream was too restless."
"There was a name that popped up on the screen," Jake says. "Once we get this guy on his way, I'll do a little research on it."
"What are you going to do with him?" Sun asks.
"Don't worry," Javier says. "We'll leave him in a nearby bar passed out in a chair smelling like liquor."
While the guys pick up the still sleeping Mr. Bosu and lug him out of the room, Sun and I pack up the equipment.
"We'll be back in a few minutes once we get this guy at his next location," Javier says.
After they leave, my whole body feels even weaker than before. It's like the moment they took Mr. Bosu away, any hope of leads went with him.
"You have to come to grips with the fact that we might not be able to track down your dad," Sun says. "We've broken so many laws and your mom must be wanting you back home rather than overseas."
"So do you think this is the end?" I ask.
"I think we should go back home in the morning."
The truth is, I can't accept that. I won't accept it. To go back home empty-handed kills me. I pull out the note I stuffed in my pocket before I left home.
The moment you give up is the moment you let someone else win.
I abandon the packing to sag into the chair and begin reviewing the footage from the dream. It's not long. Maybe five minutes or so. I always find that strange, how dreaming feels like it's so long, but in reality, it can be but moments. The brain is an amazing thing in that way. Finally, I come to the end where the sign Surfside Resort and Spa pops up on the screen.
Sun moves to stand over my shoulder, resting her hand on my arm. "That's a resort. The kidnappers wouldn't take your dad there. You know what my guess is? That man who withdrew the $81 million gave a portion of it to Mr. Bosu who managed to hide the transaction trail."
"The golden spoons represented money," I say numbly.
"Exactly. Maybe Mr. Bosu was planning a vacation or a getaway at a resort except after you left the bank, he internalized your actions. Maybe he felt that your hair symbolized danger. That's the only explanation. That's the one that makes the most sense."
"I'm going to my room." I don't even look at her or ask if she's okay if she packs up the mats and towels. I can't deal with any of that right now. All I want to do is go back to my room and cry for the rest of the night.