Children of Light: Prologue
It isn’t exactly a nightmare. But it is the last dream Cooper Thomas will ever have.
There were bodies everywhere. The ones still clinging to life moaned in agony. He moved through the swampy valley with caution, trying not to step on the tangled extremities of the corpses. It felt like the earth was trying to inhale him, the thick mud sucking him in with every step he took. He was sure that if he stood still, it would swallow him whole.
It wasn’t exactly a nightmare. But it was the last dream Cooper Thomas would ever have.
He woke up late in the afternoon and scrambled to get ready. Like all of the ceremonies, tonight’s was taking place in a walled-off compound in the Hollywood hills. He drove the Maserati there. He had a dim recollection of once enjoying the narrow, twisting hills from behind the wheel of a zippy sports car. So now, whenever he knew he’d end up in the hills, he took the Maserati, unconsciously trying to recreate a dopamine rush that seemed forever out of reach.
He showed up late. In the early days, showing up late meant you couldn’t get in. But they’d gotten lax. The only people standing watch were the private security guards, who all knew him and waved him through the gate.
They were using the old servants’ quarters and everyone was asleep in the main room, their bodies illuminated only by candlelight. The sight of them lying in their little cots— he couldn’t help but think of the dream he awoke from, only an hour ago. Even the Occarist—the sorry kid they hired to dress up and deliver the sacrament in the absence of a true officiant— was under, fast asleep. The pomp and circumstance had been exciting at first. But now it seemed like no one had the energy to do anything but go through the ceremonial motions.
The sound of a water feature trickled away in some darkened corner. The sacrament was left out at the front of the room. Cooper approached it, picked it up and brought it to his mouth. He hesitated. The chalice was unwashed, its rim sticky with grime, the potion inside glistening with a thick film of backwash. He suddenly didn’t want it. That noxious, familiar taste of wine and sedatives. The way it stuck to the back of his throat. Again, he thought of his dream, and the stench of death permeating that grotesque swamp filled with corpses. He gagged.
One of the bodies in the room stirred. He took the cup and retreated into the kitchen.
He waited until the door had swung closed behind him before turning on the lights. He dumped the red liquid out in the sink and washed the cup under cold water, rubbing the rim clean with his thumb and forefinger. He wiped it down and brought it to the mixing station, a glorified bar cart draped with an ornamental piece of fabric. There was an enormous bottle of wine uncorked, a third of the bottle left. Next to it, a bowl of powderized sedatives.
But where was the third ingredient?
He checked the drawers, the cupboards. He even checked the broom closet, trying to make as little noise as possible, but growing increasingly frustrated. He walked back to the mixing station and stared at it dumbly, as if hoping it might magically appear before him.
Only then did he notice the satchel on the ground, what looked like an old carrying case for a bowling ball. Worn leather, stiffened with age. A tarnished brass zipper partially opened. He picked it up by the handles and was surprised by its heft. He set it down on the counter and slowly slid the fly over the clunky, bucked teeth of the zipper. He parted the bag’s mouth with both hands and peered inside. His breathing stopped.
The bag was filled to the brim.
Before he even knew what he was doing or why, he zipped the bag back up and hauled it with him out of the kitchen, hitting the lights off as he did. He tiptoed through the main room, between the sleeping bodies, and out to his car.
As he drove away, he felt that long-forgotten dopamine rush. The tires gripping the asphalt. The engine whirring through the canyon. His mouth clenched in a tight, involuntary grin.
He drove west.
Check out the first installment of Children of Light— Dream Wars: Part I. Thanks for reading!