Free Flight to Freedom (Flight Trilogy, Book 3) by Mike Coe Page B

do you mean ‘are we still in California?’” Her voice sounded concerned. “Ryan, are you feeling alright?”
    He forced a fake smile. “I’m fine.”
    “Well,” Keri said, “you sound like you might still be half asleep. I suggest you stay in bed until you wake up.” She stood. “Come join me when you wake up.” As she left the room she said, “Don’t forget, I’m cooking a big breakfast.”
    Unanswerable questions swirled in his head. He was still in the same reality as before he went to sleep? Why didn’t he dream about 1974…and his last date with Keri? Why had he dreamed Rex died in the crash and Emily was murdered? He saw Rex at LAX last week and, unless something had changed, Rex was still married to Emily. Perhaps he had overdosed on the perfume?
    Oh , no ! What if the dream was not about what had already happened , but instead about what was about to happen ? Instead of a corrective dream , the dark dream must be predicting the future .
    His mind spun to the next logical point on the timeline of his future: the horrid night Keri and the children were held hostage by the white freak—May 29, 2003.
    But it’s all screwed up .
    If Rex crashed a year ago in July 2002, he and Emily should be dead, but he knew for a fact they were very much alive.
    Not only had his number theory failed, there was no logic to the new twist in the timeline.
    The reason Rex had been flying that particular flight on July 11, 2002, was because he had traded trips with Rex. But the flight never happened. That is why Rex and Emily are still alive.
    He was confused. Nobody had died. Or had they? Would they? When? Nothing made sense. He didn’t know who, when, how, or where Evil would strike first, but something ominous darkened his spirit; something as real as real could be—a presence. A sense of death filled the room.
    Please , God , don’t let anything happen to my family .

CHAPTER 12
    Southern California
    Sunday morning — April 2003
    Although Ryan wanted to believe the Angel perfume was somehow responsible for changing his past, his last nightmare had shed doubts on his theory.
    Plus, the idea of time traveling in his dreams to a place in his past and making choices that would alter his future was beyond absurd. Any reasonable person would explain it as nothing more than double dreams or dreams within dreams. Nothing more than a subset of false awakenings in which he dreamed he had awoken from sleep while he continued to dream.
    Regardless whether his experiences were real or imagined, he was not ready to simply blow them off as being false awakenings, double dreams, or dreams within dreams. The experiences were so strong and real he had to continue to experiment with the Angel perfume.
    Perhaps the reason for his last dream being so different from the first two had something to do with the quantity of perfume he had ingested relative to the amount of caffeine he had consumed. During his years of fighting fatigue and insomnia, he had learned brain chemistry plays a major role in sleep performance. The proper mix of perfume and caffeine might be the solution.
    After very little sleep, excited to continue his experiment, he returned to Starbucks with his Angel and a bottle of hand sanitizer.
    Once he had his coffee, he returned to his car. When the cup was half empty, he sprayed the perfume on his forearm, and breathed deep, drawing the sweet fragrance into his lungs.
    Within minutes, as he’d expected, he broke out in an allergic reaction—sneezing, red, itchy, watery eyes, and sinus drainage. On the way home his condition worsened, however this time, it was not as violent as the previous morning.
    Entering the kitchen from the garage, he paused. Ahhh...chooo!”
    Keri was at her usual place, drinking coffee and reading her Bible. “Another allergic reaction?”
    “What can I say?”
    “You might want to stay away from Starbucks for a while.”
    This time, in her unaltered reality, she had continuity between