We take turns peeking out of the tunnel and looking down at this dream that Charlie had found.
When it’s my turn, I see that we are in the middle of the desert. The desert is rocky with sparse green bushes I’ve never seen before.
“I don’t recognize this place,” I tell them.
Fortunately, Madelyn is next. “This is Guban Desert,” she says. “I have been here once. We are in Somalia.”
There are three trees, and next to them an encampment. These are not tents, but long pieces of cloth stretched out to give as much shade as possible. There are quite a few of those.
There are a few long tables. One of them is busy. It has food on it and we can see from above that indeed there are children there. I can’t see them too well. Even though the suns are in midsky, the lighting is that of a sunrise, and everything is half dark.
We look again and again, but no one sees a sign of a monster. There seem to be only children here from our point of view.
“No elevator, Charlie,” Justin says. “We don’t want people finding their way out in case this is unfriendly.”
Charlie nods. We’ve had a bad experience with that lately.
Justin goes down first, flying on his jetpack, landing on the far side of the encampment. One by one, we go down. Master Mind, holding me, goes down last.
We look around. It’s early morning and it’s hot. “Put your weapons away but be ready,” Justin says.
Joy’s eyes are shining. The only child she’s ever known is Charlie - oh, and the children he dreams about. I’m sure the sense of danger and that anything can happen in a dream also excites her.
We walk slowly, the six of us, towards the children: Justin, Joy, Charlie, Madelyn, Master Mind, and I.
When we’re close enough, we can see them clearly, and they can see us. Their heads all turn at once.
There are about ten children, and all of them are five, six, or seven year olds.. And then I realize: we stick out like sore thumbs: Joy, Justin and I are white and Charlie is Native American which stands out just the same here. And Master Mind is a huge robot.
The kids staring at us are thin and clearly undernourished. We stare at each other in silence for a second. Then three of them raise their hands and I can see they have guns in their hands - actual guns!
They aim the guns at us and suddenly there is a catch in my throat. I have never felt so close to death.
(To be continued…)
—Told by Grampa Walt