Free Memorymakers by Brian Herbert, Marie Landis Page A

air in the room thickened like gelatin, pushed in upon her and enveloped her. “Thomas!” she cried. “Are you doing that?” No answer came. She reached for the bedside lamp and flipped on the switch: it made a dull, discordant sound and red darkness overwhelmed her. “Thomas,” she cried again. “Quit teasing.” A thin, reedy sound returned to her from faraway. “I don’t know where I am,” Thomas answered. “Emily . . . Emily?”
    The tapping against Emily’s shoulder grew agitated. Then it seized her sweater and pulled. Emily slid across the bed, through the thick darkness. With frantic hands she reached out to hold the bed post. But the thing that tugged was persistent and toppled her to the floor. She lay on the carpet for a moment, stunned, frightened and angry. Her emotions bubbled and boiled, and the Chalk Man appeared. His white hands moved quickly across the darkness, and she saw that he drew what appeared to be a gargantuan bottle with stubby wings. He touched the outline and it blazed into a line of fire that crackled and spat. For a brief instant Emily thought she could see a thing imprisoned within the fire, an object shaped like its firey-edge. A thing that opened its jaws, growled and snorted and extinguished the flames.
    “It can’t be real!” she shouted, and as quickly as the Chalk Man had appeared, he began to fade. She reached out to detain him, but he vanished, and she wished he were back. Emily no longer feared him.
    She was tugged again. She twisted, kicked and tried to free herself; she dug her heels into the carpet and felt the material beneath her feet grow thick and spongy. Then suddenly she felt no floor beneath her, and her body seemed to elongate, to stretch out into a thin string of her former self. Whatever held her was smooth and metallic and pulled her along at a tremendous speed.
    “Let me go!” she screamed as she raced through the reddish darkness.
    “It’s time to go, Emily,” said a soft male voice that sounded vaguely familiar. “Time to go.”

Chapter 6

    This Squick is an obstreperous one. He shows inadequate respect, and at times I think I’d feel better not dealing with him at all. But his Nebulon counts are unsurpassed—higher even than my own. If our race is to survive, his type must lead. But he refuses to marry and sire offspring, damn him!
    —“The Frozen Journal of Jabu”

    She was only a filament, a golden thread ten thousand light-years long that trailed across the heavens and remembered its name. “I am Emily,” it whispered within the cells it called Brain, as though it wished to remind her of something she had long forgotten. Sight existed, though her other senses seemed to have disappeared or gone to sleep. As she floated, she could see the great star systems move like jewels across the universe. One of the jewels flared and died. Fourth of July, she told herself, Fourth of July, a time for the night sky to explode with beauty, bits and pieces of fire flashing through the darkness like a molten snowfall. And what was the Fourth of July? She couldn’t remember.
    She drifted thus, lazily, without fear or sorrow. Memories crept into her thinking part and she dreamed soft dreams filled with the faces of those she loved and places she’d been. A particular face swam in front of her: Thomas. Where was he? On the surface of her tranquility a tiny crack appeared, just enough to alter the pattern of her being. Things clicked into place, opened and closed and revealed themselves.
    Above her head the sky was a cool gray dome. Where had the red darkness gone?
    She felt something and realized it was the fabric of her clothing against her hand. Only it wasn’t her hand. Her hand ought to have been small, almost square. This one was long-fingered and slender. She searched for the rest of herself and discovered that her legs had stretched and her feet were larger.
    Disoriented, she raised herself to a seated position and saw that she rested upon grass.