Echo

Red Scented Dreams

Jack Sheppard was dreaming. The familiar feeling of the musty cave came back to him once again, penetrating his feeble mind and shivering his soul. Through clenched teeth, he tasted the dank and humid air as it filled his lungs. He turned over roughly as his vision began to clear, watching helplessly as the smog and clouds withered away into vaulted stone ceilings, narrow ledges and precipices against the darkness.


         They had always explored the cave together. Endless tunnels, narrow corridors, and deep, deep holes that went far into the earthen ground below had proved to supply them with more than enough adventure for a lifetime.


         It had almost become commonplace for them by that time. He had lost count some time ago as to how many ventures they had taken into the cavern. Delving deep into the hallowed part of the earth so many times had softened their wits and blunted their cautions. He shuddered as he gave in to the thrill of hearing her voice again.


         “You’re just jealous, because you know I’m going to find the end before you do.”


         Her melodic laughter followed the accusation, floating to him on silent promises of love. He grabbed her and pulled her close, encircling her in his arms. Lemongrass and lavender came to him as he buried his face in her raven dark hair.


         He hadn’t responded to the jibe back then, and he didn’t respond now. All his cares seemed to evaporate when he held her. Her family’s objection of their love seemed a distant worry, and his unseemly past melted away, forgotten. This all changed the day she fell.


         Rosalie escaped his grasp and dashed away through the wide and narrow cave, leaving her scent of lemongrass wafting behind. Though his heart was reeling, his mind was racing. He shouted at himself through the haze. It can’t be true. This is false hope, a stab wound that won’t seal shut. Run away, save yourself.


         He found himself making the gradual decent after her, his own warnings and hints falling to the wayside, bouncing off the stone walls and becoming lost in obscurity as he chased her. Edges and corners of black rock flew at him, threatening to tear at him, rip him away from his false existence. Jack dodged them, ducked under the sharp pointed reality, warding off his own will to keep himself safe and forgetful, until he too was lost in the unknown.


         “Hold up,” he called out after her. The dark seemed to swallow up his voice. “Wait for me.”


         Her voice seemed to come to him from all directions as she spoke, soft as a purr. “Come and find me, if you’re so great.”


         Previous thoughts of hiding away had left him completely now. He followed the sound of her voice, not giving it a chance to bounce around and echo too many times to the point of confusing him. Her laughter sounded closer now as he continued to weave between the sheer stone walls.


         Eventually he came to a narrow stone bridge that connected one side of the cavern to the other. Underneath, perpetual dark waited to swallow them whole. Jack peered off the side, staring down into it. His head snapped back up when Rosalie called his name.


         “Jack Sheppard! Are you really so slow that I have to stand and wait for you to catch up?”


         He couldn’t fight back the smile that crept up on his face. Jack looked at her from across the slender stone bridge as the memory of how they had met forced itself into his mind.


         The small town they had lived in together as children was holding the Midsummer Festival for the summer solstice. Everyone in the town had dressed up with colorful dresses and suits, and elaborate masks adorned all their faces. Jack had spied her from across the road and seized her right away, forcing a dance out of her.


         Her voice brought him out of his revere. “What are you thinking about?”


         “About your father,” he stated, knowing his face betrayed him.


         “Liar,” she laughed with him as they started to walk toward each other. “You never smile like that when you’re thinking about my father. Or my mother, for that matter.”


         As though he had been slapped by an invisible hand, Jack’s thoughts shifted to his daughter.


         “He wants you to give Abby up.”


         She sighed as they continued to stroll toward one another and said, “He thinks that giving her up is the only way I can live a respectable life.”


         “You’ll both live respectable lives with me,” he said indignantly. “He’ll see.”


         “And how are you going to do that?” she teased him, a small smile playing across her lips as she continued to crawl closer to him. “Jack and Rosalie, treasure hunters extraordinaire?”


         “I’ll start my own business,” he countered. Before he could continue with his plan, however, a sudden rumble of the surrounding cavern walls caught them both off guard.


         They froze where they were, barely feet apart, as the rumbles grew louder and then quieted as quick as they had come. Jack thought it had passed as it started again. The rumbles picked back up, the violence in them increasing dramatically. A loud crack echoed through the room, and Jack felt his heart stop as the bridge they were standing on began to twist and snap.


         Neither of them had time to react. The end of the bridge on Rosalie’s side split down the middle, and pieces began to crumble off rapidly, falling into the abyss. Jack jumped down and shot his hand out to Rosalie’s outstretched one, their fingers brushing briefly as she fell, and she managed to snag herself onto the ledge of the shattered bridge.


         He screamed her name as he stretched his hand out, trying to reach her.


         “Take my hand!”


         “Jack!” she yelled up to him with panic welling in her voice as she spoke. “I’m slipping!”


         The fear in her eyes choked him, and he pushed himself farther down, hooking his foot into one of the cracks of the bridge so he could get lower.


         She reached up with a trembling hand, but as she did she lost her grip on the ledge and slid further off. With a shriek, she clutched it with both hands to secure herself.


         “Jack, I can’t hold on.”


         “Yes you can! Reach!”


         She tried again, but only slipped further down the ledge. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her voice was shaky, but strangely calm.


         “Take care of Abby,” she said, as the cave rumbled again. The earth roared in pain as the cave shifted, changing shape. “Promise me.”


         “I can’t do it without you,” he said, mismatching her calm with hysteria.


         She only repeated herself. Promise me.


         The cave was thundering now, and the sides of it were sliding down into the pit. Jack felt his half of the bridge begin to vibrate forcefully now. Somewhere in his mind, he knew there wasn’t much time. But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to acknowledge this fact that seemed to be rushing at him unbelievably fast now. As he lay on the bridge with his hand out stretched, memories they had shared came to him unbidden, and he fought them back, he tried to will them away. He couldn’t bring himself to see that this was his last moment with her.


         “I promise,” he finally said, still reaching down with his arm. Their hands were only inches apart, but he couldn’t force himself down any farther without falling himself.


         With another violent rumble, he watched in disbelief as Rosalie slipped off a final time, plummeting into the endless dark. Her face was stricken, as though the reality had sunk back in and she wished to fight it off.


         Jack watched as she fell, unable to do anything but scream her name. She kept her eyes focused on him for as long as they remained in eyesight, and the dying eyes of Rosalie told Jack she would always love him.


**


         Jack thrashed in his sleep. He later learned that the Directorate had bombed the small town, which had been the source of the sudden collapse of the ancient cave nearby. When questioned why, representatives of the Directorate responded that the town had been found guilty of housing outlaws.


         “It’s your fault she’s dead!” the man screamed, shoving Jack forcefully out the door of the house. “You should have died in her place!”


         Jack looked past Rosalie’s father and into the home, where her mother sat weeping uncontrollably. He had come to tell them what had happened.


         “I would have if I could have,” he said, his voice flat, emotionless.


         Her father’s voice seethed hatred, complete and utter abhorrence. He stared at Jack now with unflinching eyes.


         “You’re the reason they bombed our town,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Jack. Several townsfolk had stopped picking up the pieces of their broken homes and stopped to watch. “You’re nothing but a worthless brigand. An outlaw. You should be dead, not Rosalie.” His voice cracked when he said her name.


         Jack stood motionless, unable to answer the man’s accusations. His head was foggy, and he wasn’t sure this was really happening. Any moment now, Rosalie was going to come rushing out, to tell him it had all been a joke. She was never any good at keeping secrets.


         “And I’ll tell you what’s best for Abigail,” he continued, the finger still in his face. “We’ll keep her, and raise her as our own. She’ll go to school at the Academy, and she’ll make something of herself.”


         He sneered at Jack as he spoke with fury threatening to choke him up. From somewhere in the depths of his soul, he found the courage, or the drive, to speak.


         “I promised her I would take care of Abby.”


         The man lowered his finger and bawled both hands into big, meaty fists. They trembled at his side, and Jack was afraid that he would lose control of them and bludgeon him here on the spot.


         “The best thing you can do for her,” he said slowly, “is to forget she exists.”


         Jack writhed on his cot, as the dream began to evaporate, leaving him in the darkness with his memories. His dream had become a nightmare.