Dream On

Annabelle picked her way through the rubble, wrinkling her nose at the stench wafting around her. Sometimes it smelled like dead fish. Other times, like rotting animals. Often, like feces. Today it seemed to be everything at once. It was the place where people dumped and burned their garbage. Once a gated, private community, it was now filled with torn down fences and broken homes with swimming pools cracked and filled with growing weeds. She’d never lived here Before, but frequented it now, After.

She’d awakened earlier than usual that morning, from a dream, while it was still dark and the birds were silent. It was the same dream that had visited her with regularity for as long as she could remember that woke her. It was not quite a nightmare, not quite a dream. Something that was a little bit of both. It was not something in which she felt fear, but instead, sadness and helplessness. Normally it just faded away but this morning, she had been jolted awake at the end of it.

A girl with blonde hair with pink tips, reaching her hand out, green eyes almost glowing. Sometimes it was dark in the dream, other times, light. The background was always slightly blurred, not easy to make out, but it felt familiar. The girl’s eyes often changed. Sometimes, they were happy, other times, sad. Lately, they were almost pleading with Annabelle to look deeper, to understand.

The dream hadn’t usually disturbed Annabelle, not until today. This time, Annabelle had reached her hand out to grasp the hand of the pink-haired girl. And she’d disappeared. Annabelle woke up wondering where she had gone.

She shook her head to clear it of the thoughts. She needed to get to the dump site. At least due to the dream she’d get there early to look for anything valuable. She’d had to do this for a few years now. Ever since it had happened. The rich had lost everything. The poor had nothing to lose. Everyone was on an equal level now, yet the greed of the rich had left them all with nothing. Everything was there for the taking. She wasn’t too proud to be a picker. She needed to survive.

As she made her way to a different part of the dump, she saw a body, not moving. Walking towards it, she figured whatever the person may have had of value was probably the reason they were dead. But it couldn’t hurt to check. There was little decomposition so it had not been there long, not like some of the others she’d come across. She was young, maybe about Annabelle’s age, wearing jeans, boots, and a dark green jacket with many pockets. A black knit hat covered her head.

Annabelle looked her over and saw a narrow chain across her neck. She kneeled next to the girl’s body, pulled at it, and dislodged a heart-shaped locket, or, rather, half of a locket.

She closed her eyes, swayed, and sat down hard. She pulled the locket over the girl’s head, held it and stared. It was tarnished, almost black in spots, though if she looked closely, she could see flecks of silver. More importantly, she could see the design etched into it, an infinity symbol with A and Z in each loop. And the name on the inside. Annabelle. Annabelle pulled on the chain around her own neck and the matching half emerged from her shirt. An infinity symbol. The letters A and Z in each loop. The name on the inside. Zoe.

She screamed; a loud, primal scream of anger and angst. In the distance another picker paused momentarily and looked up, and then went back to searching for valuables. Screams were commonplace.

Annabelle’s memory reached back to when she was three years old. The hushed voices. The tears. Hiding. Her mother trying hard to keep her and Zoe inside and quiet when they just wanted to play outside. And then there was that one day she snuck out to see the sunshine and feel the breeze and smell the flowers, and she was taken to live in the Place, at least for a time, until it happened.

She’d never known what happened to her family, to Zoe.

Now she knew something.

She rested her hand on Zoe’s face, but the tears held back. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She was too numb. Too hardened. She’d seen too much death already.

She brushed a smudge of dirt off of Zoe’s forehead, and then slid off the knit hat. Zoe’s hair was blonde, with pink tips.

“Hey.” A voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up. Derek was standing next to her. “What are you doing here so early, sitting next to a dead girl?”

“It’s my sister.”

“Your sister? Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

They were both silent for a few minutes, while the sun started to rise above the horizon and the birds sang their morning song.

“I haven’t seen her since I was three. But I remember.”

She looked up at Derek. “I want to find out what happened. I need to find out what happened. How could I find her again, finally, but only because she’s dead?”

Zoe woke with a start, heart pounding, and sat straight up. She’d had dreams about her sister before, but never this vivid, never this involved. And she’d never been dead in the dream. She knew now that Annabelle was still out there. She touched the locket she’d worn around her neck since she was three. She’d find her. If it was the last thing she ever did, she’d find her.