Rights retained by author ©by Essarr Permission granted to Big Closet Exclusively

This story revisits the Cedar Falls of Programmed and Reprogrammed. The story stands alone. Reading the previous chapters of this trilogy may add to your understanding of the back story. Propelled takes place after Programmed and before Reprogrammed. It is a story of how our protagonist is drawn into a dual life without his knowledge or agreement. You may say he was propelled into Cedar Falls to solve a crisis by walking in another’s shoes.

There is a different format in the text. It is told in first person though the eyes of Brad Lincoln and his captor’s persona. The description shifts into third person view of our story teller when our hero is absent. Rather than single out conversational voices in railroad format, dialog is incorporated into the paragraph. That style allows descriptive views of character’s actions to be present while they speak improving the flow. That is my opinion to which you may not agree. No matter, the style is intentional. I used italics to highlight characters thoughts.

Programmed too place in the spring and summer of 1959 in Cedar Falls. This story takes place in the fall and winter of that year after the closing of the portal. There are a total of eight chapters combining to a total approaching 100,000 words. As each is sent through the editing wringer they will be posted. Chapter Two is presently in its fourth edit. The others in various stages between two and three edits each. Allow a couple days between postings. I will thank Ragnar Tørnquist for his masterpiece, (opinion) The Longest Journey which I allude to every so often.

There is no graphic sexual scenes though the topic is alluded to from time to time. There is some cussing but it is mild. There is no violence save a threat of force in the opening scene. Hope you enjoy it took considerable time to complete.

A soft warm breeze rose up from the lake washing over us as we sat in Blake’s convertible talking quietly. The radio playing low emitted an odd song sounding much like a relic from the past. I tried to place it but could not as the young man hummed along. I tilted my head up toward the early October night sky soaking in the stars when I was taken by surprise. Blake’s hand slid gently along my knee growing more earnest as his fingers were well beneath the hem of my skirt. They probed against me with a threatening urgency that could only be too invasive. I recoiled shocked at his actions as I tried to disengage from him. With his other arm resting behind my head he urged me to face him. Suddenly, his lips met mine with a passion that nearly shocked me. I pulled back but his strength held me close, too close. In a sudden instinctive reaction I slapped his face telling him to stop. He acted surprised as he released me. Anger surfaced in the next moment as without a word he turned to face forward. Once he engaged, the ignition it caused the car to lurch with a growl. The motion forced my back to slam against the seat as we nearly flew down the road. I instinctively reached for the seat belt but there wasn’t one. I gritted my teeth hearing a low unintelligible grumbling emanating from the drivers seat.

Trees and power poles sped by my window until Blake slowed at the edge of town. His rage dissipated for only a moment. He turned down a side street that appeared familiar. Two, three perhaps four blocks further along he turned onto another tree lined street. His rage returned betrayed by a reddened face and his action. Without a word he slammed on the breaks in front of a two toned cape cod house. I could tell in the dark the bottom half was brick with white siding complementing the upper half. The two car garage also made of brick had two cars parked in front of the doors. I recognized one of them as mine, the turquoise Bel Aire, my pride and joy. We were at the third house from the corner of Maple and Elm just inside the village boundary. It is in a middle class neighborhood that I am familiar with but I, don’t know why I am. He pulled to the curb causing yet another jerk from the sudden stop. Without a word, he leaned across the front of me opening my door. His eyes transmitted near rage as he motioned me to get out. He never spoke as he gestured for me to leave.

I complied feeling the urgent need for flight. I now understand when Blake does not get what he wants he turns ugly in a hurry. That is how my friends described the handsome self assured young man in every dire warning they ushered to me. My friends, just who are these friends I, can’t recall any of their names? I paused for a moment to pull myself together before going another step. My skirt is askew with my blouse partially unbuttoned. How did that happen? I shook readjusting as my skirt settled its hem resting two inches below my knee. Blake’s reputation for having fast hands is not something to be taken lightly. I scolded myself thinking my luck held out only because he was not insistent. In my foolish belief that I had a measure of control I did not listen to the warnings. I suddenly see it was rather stupid to agree to go for a drive to the lake after the movie. I, don’t even remember what we saw, much less what it was about. I just remember moving his hand away from my knee more times than there are commercials interrupting a TV show. I heard my voice scolding me aloud, “God Emily you should have known better.”

My feet barely touched the curb when I felt the breeze coupled with the engine growl from his car peeling away. I stood there motionless with the sudden urge to flip him off. That would have proved pointless as by now he was long out of sight. I stared at the inviting house featuring one single light shinning through the living room window. My dad no doubt sat there waiting for my return and mom had already gone to bed. Don’t ask how I knew the light came from the living room or how I knew who is waiting. It would be easier to narrate that I am all too familiar with this place knowing that would be a lie. Either from habit or rote I stepped up onto the porch reaching for the door handle when it swung open.

The man stood there with a definite exasperated expression as he stepped aside to let me in. I expected “where in hell have you been”, or at least “you are late what do you have to say for yourself?” Nothing, not a word just a glare I have not seen before. It told me this man is angrier than I had ever seen him.

Straight ahead is the stair case my destination offering escape to my room. Hardly had my front foot settled on the bottom step when a controlled voice demanded I stop. My upward motion froze as if it hit the wall of his command. That voice I knew all too well became a force compelling my turning around to face the music. His message transmitted in few words more information than I wanted to hear. I learned mother was upset because of my being late. She went to bed with a headache to avoid another scene as father described how she phrased it. I also learned that high school girls are not to be out after ten pm. Apparently there is no exemption for Seniors on a Friday night. Protest, not much point in that especially when I knew full well I am the one in the wrong. I demonstrated my best pout promising not to be late again and fled upstairs.

What I need is a mirror to reflect my appearance hoping to catch a glimpse of myself. I felt about as unsure as I ever had in the past. I knew I had come so close to being yet another notch on Blake’s belt. My resentment of being prey welled up inside. It equaled the sudden realization that my so called ability to control amorous males is a myth. What I did not know is how I came to be in that situation. I knew better but somehow I ended up sitting in his sports car at the lake. Just what does a guy expect when he thinks he is the number one school heartthrob and a pretty girl agrees to a midnight ride to the lake? That pretty girl who is stupid enough to expect a conversation centered around saving the whales is in for a shock. Pretty girl, is that who I am? I kept hearing all the way to the lake how beautiful Emily is. I sort of ate that up until my discovery of who exactly the intended meal really was. Pretty girl? You mean pretty stupid girl. Directly in front of me a step or two beyond my vanity is my bed. I, don’t recall ever gazing into the vanity mirror. I took one step toward the bed intending to circumvent it targeting my vanity. I never got there as the bed swallowed me. There is no justice as my alarm is going off, making a loud racket. My night’s sleep ended so fast I am unaware it took place.

I barely slapped the button silencing the beast when mother’s voice replaced it. Saturday mornings were never intended to be visited before noon. That unwelcome voice is ordering a noncompliant person, meaning me, to come downstairs. That voice issued the dire warning there is work to be done. The woman sounded beyond shrill. I thought I escaped neatly last night by agreeing and acting compliant almost apostolate before father. I have always understood father was easy compared to the lioness that awaits. I answered with a loud, “in a minute I need a shower and will be right down.” I truly hate getting aroused in a rude manner like this as it always takes several minutes to clear my head. Like right now here I am all flustered wondering how much crap I am in with mom. I could imagine the argument between them when I failed to show by ten pm. However, that went it typically ends with mom going to bed leaving dad in a huff.

I sat on the edge of my bed selecting an assortment of clothes before heading off into the shower. After rejecting the long skirt etched with the black poodle, I grabbed a pair of jeans and tan three quarter sleeve satin top. Ankle socks and Keds finished the look as I admired myself in the mirror. Gone is the Tippi Hedrin short cropped do that screamed butch to me. I allowed my blond locks to grow styled similar to that of Grace Kelly. At least I am pleased with how I presented. Feeling satisfied when the martinet downstairs issues work orders, I am dressed for it. Extra chores are mandatory to prove my contrition. That has proven to be rule following previous infractions. Thankfully, infractions do not occur often. I steel myself knowing in a few months I am free as college awaits. Descending the stairs I smell coffee and bacon scents wafting up the narrow passageway.

Mom is sitting at the table dressed as she always is very stylish looking as if she is posing for the latest issue of Modern Woman Magazine. I, engender the most positive smile I can as I pour a cup of coffee. Mom scowls disapprovingly suggesting young girls should not drink coffee, milk is better for me. This is not going to go well. She deflected to father who will issue whatever penalty there will be for last nights behavior. The verdict will be rendered when he gets home from work. The chill is lifted temporarily when mother finally spoke in a complete sentence.

“Emily, I need you to go to the five and dime to pick up an order that came in for me. You know I have been wanting to make new slip covers for those sofa throw pillows. I, don’t approve of women driving but your insistence upon getting a license at least is useful for some practical purposes. Here is a five dollar bill it will cover the cost. When you get back you can help me with the sewing.”

I rolled my eyes knowing this is my penance for breaking curfew last night. Mom always pontificates at moments like these. Rather than simply say go get my order she has to highlight her disapproval while taking advantage of the vehicle she resents.
She never misses an opportunity to show her anger regarding father’s buying the car as an early graduation present. It is a few years old but still a beauty with not a lot of miles. I totally love that car and all my friends are gaga over it. I agree to the errand not because I am nice but as a means of momentary escape. I have to admit any excuse to spin my wheels makes me happy. So mother can rant about my having a car while taking every advantage it offers her.

The car, what can I say about this little beauty? It is a nineteen-fifty-six Chevy Belair convertible, two toned Turquoise and white with a matching white interior. I know there could have been a better color for the seats. It is a bitch to keep them clean but the look is rad. Here I am driving down Maple Street toward the village. When turning onto Oak some bozo runs through a stop sign right at me at high speed. He came out of nowhere in a cacophony of noise, lights, spinning and screeching. There is no time for screaming or feeling I felt a rush of nausea and nothing. Inside my total blackness I feel a sudden shaking as hands grab my shoulders with a concerned voice penetrating my cloud.

“Brad wake up you were screaming in your sleep again. What did you do have another rerun of your stupid dream? If, you keep this up we are going to get you some strong meds.” I sat upright in my bed looking into the face of my roommate, Fred Johnson who has a concerned look. I had that dream again where I was a high school senior who was in an auto accident. Each time I have this dream it becomes more detailed. In this one I learned her name is Emily, I did not know that before. The previous versions always began with her getting into the car ending with the accident. My roommate continues his talking trying to break my trance. This time I know why she was getting into the car and where she was going.

“Come on Brad you need to snap out of it we have class in one hour.”

Finally, on my feet I sheepishly admit that it was another of those nightmares. I have no idea what is generating them. They have been haunting me for several days. The realism of these visions are beginning to scare the hell out of me. Fred continues to offer advice and warnings trying to bring me back to solid ground. I excuse myself and dash into the shower assuring Fred, I am just fine. As the water cascades over me, I consider my situation. I am a college junior majoring in computer sciences paying my way as I go. There is a small scholarship provided by my hometown for orphans. I have no family having spent my last two school years living in foster care. My parents were killed in an auto accident and I have no relatives that were ever found. Both parents were only children as is the case for myself. You would think if my dreams were tied to my circumstances they would be about a guy with a large loving family. Just what is this crap about being a teen girl who gets whacked in an auto accident?

I gulp down a cup of coffee in two quick swallows while simultaneously inhaling a muffin of unknown origin. Fred stares at me though this process wanting to say something. I blink catching his gaze, “what, you were the one who said it is late. I have my throw away class and a meet with Diane at quad.” He finally speaks, “for someone who is worried he is going to be late you certainly took your time. You are going to class not on a date. Look at you every hair in place, color coordinated freshly pressed clothes.” I laughed stalling because I did not understand it either. My excuse at least is a good one. “I am the only guy in the class. Um, it tells me to take advantage and I, gotta run catch you later.”

Today is no different than any other of late. I scrunch down in a back row seat listening to a monotone drone resisting an ending. The professor must have presented this lecture so many times she has it memorized. I got the impression even she is bored by it. I made a few notes about the history of the women’s movement. I am required to take a certain number of social science courses to graduate and this is one of those. I have no understanding why learning about the history of this movement or any other has to do with computer science. My passing thought is the course requirement is needed to keep the professor employed. At least this is the last useless course I have to suffer. When this ends, I can concentrate on my major without being distracted.

I promised Diane Jacobs I’d meet her on the quad for lunch. Both of us are rather typical impoverished college students forcing the need to brown bag on a daily basis. Diane gives the impression she may be a Goth based on how she dresses. The girl has no fashion sense everything is disheveled and mismatched. I know she, overdoes it with the vampire movies and is big on Xmen nonsense. I cannot stand that stuff but I tolerate her describing every flick she watches. Diane would absolutely eat up the stupid course I just escaped. The topic is something she simply lives. It could be worse she hates political correctness which endears the girl to me. I picture that in Diane’s perfect world she would be living in some backwater village in a purple and green Victorian house. Her smile brings me out of my stupor as I flop down on the bench next to her. She speaks at once as I instantly attack my Pb and J sandwich.

“You look like shit what did you do have another of those car crash dreams? You better figure out who this chick is and save her ass before you are committed. That is if you ever want to get another nights sleep. Then again perhaps you enjoy the softer side. What about it, Brad are you any closer to figuring it out? I know a few wican ladies who might be able to help.”

I gave her, one of those not again stares hoping to discuss any topic other than this. I did tell her. “I learned the girl’s first name is Emily.” Diane presented this incredulous glare. When I added, "and she's hot."
In a feeble attempt to deflect I blather on about how Diane could use some help in coordinating her clothes. I am full of advice from proper cosmetic colors to what would work with her skin type. My attempt to enlighten floored her causing Diane to raise both brows telegraphing astonishment.

“Brad you are absolutely right with everything you said. Guys are not supposed to know that crap you are beginning to scare me. You must realize I could care less about makeup and color coordination. Did Emily teach you this stuff? Did you get past the car crash yet? What is her last name? You know there is a credible theory to explain what is happening to you. There are several. I really think you should talk to Wanda. She can help. Seriously Brad, you are twenty-two years old telling me a seventeen year old girl is hot troubles me. You really have to figure this bullshit out.”

Here we go again. Wanda is her friend who is seriously into Wicca and believes everything is controlled by unseen forces. At least Diane is off vampires for the moment. I take a deep breath not wanting to get into it but those green eyes tell me she is not going to drop it. She is right about Emily being a kid. Geeze I only made an observation it is nothing more than that.

“Diane, ok so perhaps I did pick up that stuff through Emily’s eyes. I have no idea how I learned any of this. I just know it that's all. Before the dreams began, I was clueless about color coordination, makeup, complexions and all that crap. It is not like I care about any of that. I was just trying to be helpful no offense intended. No, I did not get past the car accident. Instead, I regressed to an incident that happened the night before the crash. Not that it helps. I still have no idea what Emily’s last name is or what town she lives in. She drives a four year old car telling me her family has money. Most people do not buy their Senior in high school a recent model car. This is what freaks me out, her car is a 56’ Chevy. It looks new if we go back a hundred-twenty years. I doubt I could stop the crash even if I knew more. All I know is, it is driving me nuts.”

“I will lay off Brad but you should talk to Wanda. Promise me if it gets worse you will call her. Here is her number and address. Tell her, I sent you and no I have not spoken to anyone about this. Take it just in case. Will you do that at least? If this keeps up, Emily will be giving you tips on how to deal with your monthly visitor.”

I nodded my agreement to appease her. Diane means well. She has been a trusted friend since I began studies a long time ago. Pleased with my response, though not really convinced of my sincerity Diane excuses herself.

“Another class awaits so I must rush off. Take care old friend c-ya later.”

With that she ran toward the lecture hall leaving me with a wave. I had nothing to do for the rest of the day but I did not want to return to the dorm room. Fred would be out until late afternoon and I did not want to be alone. There is always the chance I’d fall asleep and dream of Emily again. Sleep is something I really needed but the fear keeps driving me to avoid the sleep I must have. I pack up my trash and walk slowly toward the library. Perhaps some meaningless research will help pass the afternoon. I will wait until my roomie is back before going home. Fred always presents an ample amount of noise to keep me awake. Once inside the library, I spread out my history of women’s studies text book on a small back corner table. I have no interest in this drivel but a paper is due and I may as well get it over with. Where do I begin? The issue of voting rights is as good a place as any, I guess.

The number ten font had started to blur when I felt a hard push in my back. I turned my head quickly to see a preppy absolutely beautiful cheerleader smiling at me. I blinked trying to manufacture an appropriate response when the black haired girl began to ramble in an accent I could not quite place. My hesitance should not surprise anyone. I am not the type that cheerleaders seek out. In fact I, don’t know any so why does the name Beth pop into my head? She begins talking rapid fire hardly taking a breath. “Hey girl you look completely out of sorts. Totally bummed if you know what I mean. I heard you and Dave broke up after the game Friday night. What the hell happened that made you dump the total hunk?”

Hours passed before any words would fall out of my mouth. Hours, in the sense that I'm stalling trying to come up with an answer to this ambush of questions. My mind races asking, 'who is this girl that knows me?' My eyes searched the room. Yes, I am in the library but, oh no it is a different library! I am Emily again as my cheer uniform is obvious when I glance down. I half smile a depressed countenance toward Beth. How in hell did I know her name is Beth? What is she talking about? I dumped the hunk, my boyfriend Dave. I dumped Dave after the game because, because why? Then the words came out in a flood while I fought back the tears.

“Well, he was supposed to pick me up after the game. I waited in front of the players exit at the stadium forever. Finally, Pete Michaels came out with Bill Blanchard and I asked them where Dave went. They said Dave left about a half hour ago. Bill pointed to the parking area about fifty yards away asking if that is Dave’s car. So I ran over to the black Pontiac feeling like a jerk. There he was in the back seat with Gail Murphy. Her skirt pulled up to her neck and him pushing in and out of her like a piston. It was not pretty and I used some words I did not know I even knew.”

Beth lurched forward wrapping her arms around me squeezing tight. “I am sorry girlfriend I did not think Dave was like that. We know Gail is but Dave? I bet you are glad you did not give in to him. That would have made you feel even worse right now. What did I hear you are going out this week end with Blake? Please Emily Stewart tell me you are not doing that. You do not want to get hooked up with Blake. He has a bad reputation.”

The sound of a bell ended our conversation without allowing my response as Beth grabbed my hand. She insisted she would walk with me to our next class. Not a bad idea since I have no clue where that might be. I am not sure what day this is. I could see a banner hanging urging the Tigers to win the big game on Friday night. At least a dozen guys went out of their way to smile at me. I, can’t blame them as I did see my reflection a few times while I walked down the hall. Totally hot is how I see Emily. I never made it to class as I felt another finger poking my shoulder. “Son you are snoring, this is a library. I suggest you go to the dorm to sleep. Too much party time huh?”

I watched the librarian walk back to her desk as I shoved my stuff into the book bag. I did learn Emily’s last name and the reason she went out with Blake. This whole dreaming saga is turning into one of those soap operas on the wire that never ends. It is one I can avoid by simply staying awake. Even I know that is not a plan with any hope of working. I find myself walking across campus toward the dorm. I half hope Fred is back while at the same time wishing I could get some sleep. It is not like every time I sleep I dream about the crash. It is often enough though to wear me down. ‘Perhaps this Wanda chick could have some answers if only I wanted to go there.’ I purge that stray thought quickly enough as telling Diane is all the courage I can muster. Telling this to a total stranger is off putting. At least Diane knows me well enough to accept what I say without thinking I am crazy.

Fred is aware of the nightmares as he calls them. I have never described them completely to him. I mean, how do you tell a linebacker in a major college football program you dream about being a high school girl? Fred is a great guy but he would never understand this. He is one of those guys who do not fit the stereotype. He is a football lineman, one of those stupid hulks charged with crashing into people. That could not be further from the truth. Yes, he is big but he has the brains to match his size. Fred is a premed student presently holding a 4.0 grade point average. I provide an outlet where he can discuss topics that interest him. Issues that do not fit into the world of your typical college football player who thinks only of the pro draft. I enter the empty dorm room and flop down at my computer having thought of a useless exercise.

I enter Emily Stewart into a wire search engine. The resulting hits totaling more than a million offer far too many possibilities. I narrow it down by adding car crash to my line of inquiry. Great that reduced the list to only a couple thousand items. The wire illustrated if your name is Emily Stewart you should avoid cars. The search terms I tried included, high school, coma and obits. None of them provided any answers as well. There are a couple of Emily Stewarts in a coma. None of them high school girls. Suddenly, a video player pops up on its own as they are programmed to do. The sound is one of those mellow instrumentals playing low in the background. I slide my mouse to dispatch the intrusion to avoid another commercial. Annoying pop ups constantly interfere no matter how many times you instruct the browser to block them. Before I can react, the scene refreshes. A child is revealed as she walks out of a house. My focus freezes as that house is a replica of Emily‘s. The same one Emily entered in my dream. Am I dreaming again? The girl utters one startling comment then runs back into the house slamming the door.

The words uttered shock me to attention what the kid said was only three words. Those three words scare the hell out of me. She said in a soft voice, “save Emily Stewart.” Try as I might I could not cause that media player to replay the clip. I searched all the history files coming away with the belief that clip did not exist. I must have momentarily drifted off. I know I did not dose off and out of frustration I shut down the wire and grabbed a cup of coffee. At three p.m. still too early to expect Fred, I laid down on the lumpy sofa. I awoke suddenly in total dark without any sound. Certain Emily had returned I sat upright scanning the room. To my relief Fred is sitting in a stuffed chair a few feet away.

“It awakes about time my man. I was about ready to head out for pizza. I did not have the heart to wake you up considering the trouble you been having sleeping. Shit you did not move a muscle or make a sound for the last three hours. I was beginning to think you were dead. Your loud snoring, though annoying was reassuring."

“What time is it?” That was the best I could muster half aroused from my stupor. Finally, some sleep without an intrusion from dear Emily. Before I heard an answer, from my room mate I saw him punching out numbers on his cell. He was ordering pizza which sounded like a good idea at the moment. Finally, Fred closed the cell answering me.

“It is eight o'clock at night. How long, have you been sleeping? No dreams huh that is great. At least you did not wake up screaming. As a medical student or doctor wanna be I have to tell you that you should see somebody.”

I really did not want to get into another discussion about my dream girl or bring up the kid and her urgent message on the wire. I quickly deflected by turning on the wire‘s video connection. There is always a college sporting event on the wire even if it features our arch rivals. The pizza went down well especially since our rivals got beaten badly. We have a strict rule never to mention the name of that other school. That brought a smile to Fred’s face as we now have an opportunity to move into first place with a win this weekend. Fred said his goodnights leaving me to fire up the computer in an attempt to avoid sleep. Fred picked up on this as he issued more advice.

“We have a good counselor on campus. It, won’t cost you anything to drop in for a talk. You have to deal with it buddy.”

I nodded my I knows with Fred catching the hint not wanting to engage in another serious discussion. My next two hours of using every search string I could think of produced nothing relevant about Emily Stewart. I finally gave up hitting the sheets praying Emily is tired too and leaves me alone. At least the kid did not return with her request to save someone I, don’t know. I’d save her if I had a clue as to how to do it. To my dismay Emily had other ideas.

“Do you see that look on Jake Scotts’ face Em?” The girl walking next to me had not spoken since we left the library though it was only a minute ago. I straightened up after retrieving my English text book from my locker. Turning to face Beth, I could see him halfway down the hall glancing in my direction. Jake Scott though I, don’t know his name, is definitely looking at me in that way. I recognize that puppy dog look. You know the one guys get when they see a girl they like. There is nothing wrong with the way Jake looks. He is close to six foot though an inch or so shy. My five feet-six inches is well short of him and he is cute now that I notice. “Look, Beth what are you talking about what look?”

Beth places her hand on my hip turning me to face away from Jake and at her. My best friend has the expression signaling she caught me looking back. Despite my protests, Beth insist that little old me has an interest in the shy boy who has turned to walk down the hall.

“What would you give to be a fly on the wall and be able to hear Jake’s private thoughts Em? Before you answer, let me add Jake is a better option than the loser known as Blake.” I attempt to deflect my teasing friend’s train of thought. “Who are you talking about? That new kid? I never noticed him before.” “His name is Jake, Emily. Cute, quiet and trying to figure out where he fits in is my guess.”

We walk toward English class with my nodding at Beth’s comment. I agree inwardly but hesitate to offer audible agreement. The thought suddenly hit me, ’is that it? Break the date with Blake and mom won’t be pissed at me? No, what will that do? She will still send me to the five and dime. By the way what the hell is a five and dime?’ Farther down the hall I snap out of it suddenly hearing Beth’s fly on the wall comment. She may be my best friend but admitting I am wrong is not easy. I am saved by our reaching the classroom and do not answer her. No sooner had I sat down when our teacher, Clyde Babson looks directly at me. What he said shocked me almost knocking me out of my seat. “Save Emily Stewart.”

I blinked turning to Beth whispering, “did you hear what he just said?” Beth gives me a strange stare saying the teacher had not said a word. That was when we were interrupted by a warning reminding us whispering in class is not allowed. Again I sat upright in bed saying aloud, “Save Emily Stewart.”

“You finally found out the last name of your girl Emily. At least you did not wake up screaming. I am not kidding Brad Lincoln you are going to the counselor even if I have to drag you.” I snorted a non denial denial and went back to sleep. It was a long deep sleep without interruption and I awoke late in the day. From the shower I could hear the door close with a thud and Fred’s booming voice. “Are you ok in there buddy? It is about time you woke up it is five in the afternoon.”

Shocked, I exited the shower having no idea how I managed to sleep so late. I slept for seventeen hours and felt great, though a bit disoriented. I poured a cup of coffee spitting it out at once as it tasted rank. “That stuff has been steeping since seven this morning must be pretty thick by now.” Fred said with a tone of wry humor. We managed to smuggle a small six cup coffee maker into the dorm room. It is against the rules but who cares? Fred, being a star football player scored one of the rooms with private bath. Those are reserved for the superstars on campus. I still don’t know how it is he got stuck with me. I do enjoy the perks though, no standing in line to shower. While wearing an old bathrobe I pushed up the sleeves and dumped the pot, rinsed it out in the bathroom sink and began making another. “I really need a fresh brew I, can’t imagine sleeping this long. I really cannot be missing classes especially women’s studies.” Fred laughed adding that would be fatal. “You missed a chance to sit with Diane. That is your true regret. She called sounding worried about you. Oh, some kid handed me this envelope said to give it to you.”

Fred gave me a funny look as I questioned him. “Some kid what are you talking about? I, don’t know any kid.” He shrugged with a placid expression. “Hey I, don’t know read it and find out.” I took the envelope about the size of an invitation letter and sat down with my coffee. Fred watched curiously as I opened it dying to know what some kid wanted of me. I took a deep draw of my coffee and set the cup down. The look on Fred’s face transmitted he was waiting to find out what the note said. The words, “save Emily Stewart”, screamed at me. I must have turned a deep shade of white before my face hit the table.

I woke lying flat on my back looking up from the sofa at a concerned couple. Diane and Fred’s panicked expression relaxed slightly when they saw my eyes open. Diane was the first to speak. “Brad what happened to you?” Before I could respond, Fred interjected informing Diane of the note and the kid.

“He turned white, stared for a minute then fell face first into the table. I carried Brad to the sofa and called you. There was nothing written on the paper. It was just a blank sheet of paper. Here it is look for yourself.” He handed Diane the paper which she looked at suspiciously and stuck in her purse. Diane turned to face me saying, ‘it was not blank when you read it was it?”

I am not about to confess there was a message written on that note paper. I am certainly not about to say it wanted me to save Emily. Not after waking up screaming those words earlier for Fred to hear. Any admission to that and my friends would be dragging me off to Diane’s friend Wanda or worse the counselor. I flustered for a minute or two watching their concerned faces while crafting a plausible excuse. “Well nothing it was just the shock of getting a note from a kid I, don’t know. It was just a blank sheet of paper which confused me more. The combination of this odd joke and my exhaustion caused me to pass out.”

Did they buy it? I watched hopefully as their expressions softened followed by a pair of sighs. It was Diane who took charge surprising me as Fred is the hands on problem solver. “You get back to bed I need to talk to Fred. Get going I, don’t want to hear any grumbling.” I nodded and shuffled off to my bunk while Fred and Diane sat on the sofa. Anyone with a half a brain knows I am going to fake sleeping while being all ears.

“Fred, I want you to tell me what this kid looked like. Don’t leave out any details.” “What are you going to do Diane, hunt her down?” I strained to hear through my body’s fight to sleep. “Not in the way you think but whatever you can recall will help.” Fred began his description of a typical ten year old kid. It sounded fairly generic until he got to the end. “Well, the way she talked struck me as odd. Her phrasing and choice of words were off. You know like they spoke a hundred years ago. Kids today all wear jeans and tees but she was wearing a long skirt loose fitting and down below her knees. She wore sneakers not like any I have ever seen. Way out of style and her sweater looked dated as well. As soon as I took the note she was gone. I glanced at it for less than a second then back to her but she was nowhere in sight.

Diane sounded less interested in what Fred was saying about her clothing. “Ten year olds do not care about clothes, unless they get teased. It could be her parents are poor and buy at the clothing vaults. I, doubt that offers any value. The disappearing is an interesting observation Fred. You say Brad did not say anything?” “Sorry Diane, that is all I can offer. I do not believe she was playing a joke. You know how kids act when they are playing you for a fool. She was either a professional actor or playing it straight.”

“Fred, I am worried about Brad keep a close eye on him and I will poke around to see if we can turn up this kid. Now what was this saving Emily stuff about?” Fred went on to explain my waking up yelling Save Emily Stewart. “He tried to deny he yelled it but admitted that is the name of the girl in his dreams. I am really getting worried Di.” That was all I heard before sleep took over again. I’d label my dream a true nightmare if I, didn’t know better.

The dream is one that threatened to push me into insanity. I am sure almost positive that I have gone completely unhinged. I became aware that I was conscious but could not see anything. I am surrounded by total darkness and cannot feel anything. I tried to move my arms and my legs but nothing happened. I, can’t force myself to sit up or to speak. I called in a panic for Fred but no audible sound broke the silence. There is a voice, a soft warm gentle voice coming from inside my head. I recognized it as the tone I used when speaking as Emily. My panic rose to an uncontrollable state before I heard it again. “Are you going to answer me?”

“Answer you? Who are you what do you want?” “I am Emily you are inside my body sharing it with me. You are here to help me aren’t you?” The total weirdness of this nearly caused me to explode from fear and anxiety. This gentle warm voice would have me believe I am inside her body. How do I get out of here? Again she asked, “will you answer me?” My first thought is ‘how in hell can I answer a question like that and how in hell did I get here?’ An unexpected answer came since I had yet to acknowledge the inquiry. “Silly we are sharing the same brain. I can hear your thoughts just like you are hearing mine.”

On some level that made sense especially if you are insane. “Emily, what do you expect I can do for you and just where are we?” The answer came almost at once. “We are in the hospital St Agnes to be specific. We are in a coma from that auto accident. I, can’t wake up and I am fading fast. I need your help to get out of here. The thought instantly popped into my brain. The one that said, ‘stop with the we stuff.’

Ok so I am sharing Emily’s body joining her in a coma and somehow have the ability to wake her up. She is the cause of me not being able to sleep because she wants me to wake her up. Definitely, I am certifiably insane. “How do you propose I can do that? Girl I would if I could if for no other reason than to get some sleep myself. I’m sorry but I have no idea how to do it. If you were paying attention, you would not be in this mess.” I regretted that the moment I thought it. I knew I could not take it back. I detest sounding like a judgmental parent. “I know” she answers “no offence taken. It is just that Dave’s cheating pissed me off and then getting even with Blake was stupid.”

“You could try to forgive Dave, perhaps take him back. What he did was wrong and I bet he is feeling pretty bad. I saw Gail Murphy and well you really can’t blame a guy.” I should not have worded it that way.
I knew it at once. A lesson learned never ever suggest the girl your boyfriend is doing is attractive. Don't cut the bum any slack. She fired back with something I did not understand. Who can understand teenage girls anyway? “Rickey Nelson would never act that way. I watch him every week on television. He is a dreamboat who would never treat a girl that way.” I did not ask who she is talking about. I pressed my initial question, “how can I help?”

“Your strength can help me out of this coma if you are willing to loan it to me.” There is a concept loan her my strength except I have no idea how to do that. “You just have to promise to be me while you sleep.”

I did not answer for a long time. Since we are sharing the same brain, I really did not have to did I? The obvious question became just how is this supposed to work. I had another question as well and I could not hold back. “Who is this kid who keeps telling me to save you?”

“That’s me it is my presence I sent to contact you. I could not generate anything more physical than a little girl. I am growing weaker and before long my presence will be displayed as much younger. Will you help me? You are my last hope.”

“Let me get this straight Emily. While I am sleeping, I will be you walking around town in your body until you regain your strength. Do you have any idea I do not have a clue as how to be you? Since you are in a coma, the entire town is aware of have you considered they just might think it odd? A girl in a coma does not walk around town.”

“I know silly, not while I am in a coma, before the coma. Your dreams are before the coma and you stop the accident from happening. That way I, don’t go into a coma. As for how to be me, that is no problem I will be riding with you. You, don’t think you can walk around in my body without dragging me along do you? I can tell you all you need to know. I take it from what you said you are not a girl?”

“No Emily, I am not. I am a guy, a college guy one year from graduation studying computer science.”

“What is a computer?” Her question struck me as not so odd when I recalled her nearly new 1956 Chevy. “Emily what year is it?”

“It is 1959 silly, you mean you don’t know what year it is?” I took a deep breath transmitting my thoughts to her which astonished the girl. “You mean you are from a hundred years in the future. That is impossible.” “Emily, do you think my sharing your body and loaning you my strength so you can break out of the coma is any more plausible than my being from the future? Think about it for a minute.” Then we both giggled. Before giving her an answer, I asked another relevant question. “How long is this going to take?”

It will take until I get my strength back and can stand on my own.” I can hear people talking though I, can’t communicate with them. They say I might be brain dead. The doctors want to pull the plug mom has about given up but dad is being stubborn. You hang around for awhile the worst that can happen is you lose some sleep.”

I blinked at that if one can blink while their mind is in somebody else’s brain. “Ok I will do what I can beyond that no promises.” It was then my alarm sounded waking me up. Water cascaded down while I showered wondering if I lost my mind. Diane is right I need help because no rational person could make a promise like I did. No rational person would be having dreams like this and consider them real. I made a call to Diane getting her to agree to meet with me at the quad. I did not wish to see her here risking Fred’s showing up. Not that I held many secrets from my friend but having only one of them thinking I’m nuts is bad enough. Diane at least believes in this supernatural crap. Fred is one of those concrete thinkers who rejects fantasies like this out of hand. Either what I am going through is occult based or I am going bonkers. If it turns out to be the latter, I will let Fred drag me to a therapists.

“You have to give me all the details if I am going to say anything to Wanda, Brad.” Diane began by laying out conditions. I did not understand why I just could not see this woman in person. After all it was Diane who gave me her number. When I pressed her on it she gave a safe answer. “It is like this Brad Wanda is secretive about her craft and I, don’t want to upset her. She may not appreciate me giving out her name and number like I did. I will talk to her first to see what she thinks. We will go from there.” I agreed laying out everything I could remember including last night’s mind meld. Diane looked at me in total disbelief.

“I, can’t believe you would be so foolish as to agree to give up your strength. You, don’t have any idea what that means do you?” I stared at her clueless not having the slightest idea why this would upset her. “You, don’t watch enough dark movies do you? You are not aware for instance that vampires cannot come into your house unless you invite them? Hmmm, you invited this girl inside you giving her control of whatever power you have. What if she is not what she presents? What if, she is an evil spirit? Do you have any clue about the danger you may be in? I bet you, don’t. Lets hope this is all some form of imagination run amuck and not what it could be.”

Diane appeared really concerned as I scratched my head having no idea of what I might have done. “She is a cute girl, very popular, an honor student and cheerleader.” That comment set Diane off. She led her retort with a common observation. “Men are so clueless, no wonder they are easily led around by a pretty face. What were you thinking with, your? No don’t tell me that part always gets you guys in trouble. Drag your butt home lock the door and don’t make any more promises. Nix locking the door it certainly won’t keep our little girl out. That is if she is a little girl or a girl at all.”

I watched Diane walking almost in a trot while she chatted on her cell phone and I turned toward the dorm. My classes were finished for the day and I had a lot of make up work waiting for my attention. I worried a little because I had nothing more than the word of an entity. Who knows if visions I view through Emily’s eyes or what she told me is the truth. Anyone who could accomplish this is capable of making it all up. I invited the vampire in so to speak. That is not a comforting thought. About midway through my paper on programming I heard voices thinking it was Fred, I exhaled. I am getting jumpy ever since Diane warned me about inviting creatures of the night. I waited a moment but the door did not open while voices grew louder.