Trapped in a Dream

By Victoria Caro

Faith Fernandez is a young teacher dedicated to helping her community, but hides a secret: All her life she has sensed the telepathic presence of someone else her age. While children, he was her imaginary friend; in her teens, he became her guilty fantasy; now, he avoids her.

Christian Luxford is a tormented neurologist with a secret: All his life he has sensed the mysterious telepathic presence of someone else his age. While kids they played together; in his teens he was intoxicated by her; now he avoids her, devoted to unraveling the cause of his delusion.

One day, Faith suffers a brutal attack that leaves her trapped in a strange state of lucid dreaming unable to wake up. When he, Chris, the greatest expert in the field, is called in to examine her, he discovers perplexed that his attractive ghost is very real making him her only contact with the outside world, while the attacker, for unknown reasons, still lurks looking to finish the job.

The race to save her life and unravel the secret behind their enigmatic connection will uncover unsettling truths about their past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Caro
• Release date: Feb 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452402864

Victoria Caro

Born in Spain, raised in Australia and currently living with her husband and two kids in the United States, Victoria is now working on her first non-fiction book.

Book preview

Nogales, Mexico

Thirty Years Earlier

Consuelo’s wary eyes squinted into the darkness through the truck’s dirty window and scanned the wide-open land ahead. All she saw was barren landscape barely visible under the faint twinkle of the night sky.

She shivered.

Something didn’t feel right.

With a deep breath she imposed serenity upon herself; she had to, if not for herself, for her son, Jose. He was ten, approaching his teens fast, and where she came from, that meant the promise of forceful recruitment for the endless guerilla wars; falling into a deadly drug ring or, at best, a life of hard labor with little reward.

With such a prospect, Juan, her husband, had long argued the need for the risky move they were undertaking. He had great plans for his family: a decent job, college for the kids, and maybe even setting up his own business someday. Consuelo shared his hopes and dreams, but the journey had many inherent dangers without any guarantee of success, and even if they made it to the other side, life would be very tough, especially at the beginning. It would take time —a lot of it— for their dreams to take shape… if ever. Despite this, the alternative was worse, so when the opportunity presented itself, they took it.

Pregnant with their second child, they had been instructed to wait until labor was imminent. Then, all they had to do was cross the border in time for their baby to be born an American citizen. It was that simple: The baby was their ticket to a better life, and they believed it.

Early that morning, Consuelo woke up to a sick feeling in her stomach. She tried to convince herself it was simply the combination of her advanced state with the natural apprehension for what they were about to do. The merciless grip did not subside, and in getting ready to leave, she hugged her son and kissed him repeatedly; her arms clinging to the boy’s body as if she feared it were the last time they’d ever embrace. Jose, the reason for their daring, was not coming. Their plan was to settle safely first and then call for him.

So following their coyote’s instructions, Juan and Consuelo set out with no belongings, which was an easy task to satisfy considering they had relinquished what little they had for cash to secure passage. After a long day’s travel, they made their way to Nogales, their meeting point with La Sombra.

They only met with their coyote once before this fateful night. La Sombra, meaning the shadow, as he was known for his uncanny ability to move through the night undetected according to his own propaganda, was a chubby middle-aged man, who looked more like an uncle than a smuggler. He had been very accommodating of the couples concerns, but there were certain details of the venture he refrained from sharing in order to protect his ability to serve future patriots; or so he justified with an aura of pretentious saintliness.

It was in Nogales where they mounted the battered non-descript pickup truck in which Consuelo now sat with serious misgivings and concern for the well-being of her unborn child. Apprehension aside, the trip had been hard on the expecting mother, and it was starting to take a toll on the baby. Snuggled together at the back of the truck, Juan, aware of his beautiful wife’s anxiety and discomfort, laid his hand gently on her prominent belly and leaned down to kiss it softly. Consuelo looked lovingly at her husband, a strong-willed man that had always taken good care of her. They were born within weeks of each other on neighboring farms and Juan had been assigned the responsibility of taking care of his female neighbor before he could even walk. So, as long as she could remember, he had always been there for her, her best and most loyal friend. Everyone in the village knew they would eventually marry. When asked about the moment they fell in love, Juan’s reply was always the same: There was no moment. I was born loving her and always will.

Consuelo contoured a smile —the first one that day— as she remembered the hot summer afternoon when on her way to the market, she strolled past Juan’s farm and saw him shirtless working in the field. She found herself shamefully starring at his tanned torso perfectly sculptured by a life of hard physical work. Aware of her presence, he stopped his labor and turned to award her a broad captivating smile. Her lanky young friend had suddenly turned into a handsome and desirable young man right before her eyes. Yes, she mused, enjoying the memory. She, indeed, remembered the moment her body shivered for the first time with delight for Juan.

The rounded hills gave way to wavy flatlands, and the pick-up truck came to a stop bringing Consuelo out of her comforting reverie. They were asked to step down and follow silently. From there they would walk the rest of the way, a task Consuelo would have done effortlessly in other circumstances if not for the pressure developing between her legs. Juan held her by the arm in an attempt to ease her budding waddle. Very concerned for his wife and unborn child, he started to wonder if they had waited just a little too close to labor. Relief came soon, for no more than ten minutes later the party had reached the infamous windscreen fence. Juan, to his surprise, found himself staring at it in disappointment. He had expected a more worthy barrier separating him from the richest country in the world.

La Sombra located a tear in the fence and urged them through. With the help of her husband, Consuelo cautiously tucked her head and slid her body through the narrow opening, and with no more rejoicing than the search for balance, she lay her feet on the United States of America. No fanfare followed. They were in the midst of accomplishing their most anticipated while daunting milestone in their adventure, yet there were no fireworks, rather a guarded, angst-filled silence hovering over the trespassers. Consuelo, nonetheless, granted herself an instance of elation as she looked back at the trail of footprints her shoes left on the soil of big dreams and promises.

They had made it.

Her child could now come into the world equipped with a future, and, subsequently, the rest of the family as well.

No sooner had her husband and the guide joined her on the other side, two fierce bright lights brusquely beamed on them blinding their vision and sinking Consuelo’s heart as low as the baby aimed to make its way out. Juan instantly reacted bringing his arm protectively around her shoulders.

Their coyote patted the air with his hand signaling to stay calm. He walked up to the source of the disturbing lights, an imposing black truck, as two ghostly figures emerged. While one handed him what looked like a small wrapped package, the other approached the young fearful couple. He first looked at Juan showing no signs of interest, but as he drew his eyes down to Consuelo’s pregnant body, he revealed an angled grin of approval.

The unequivocal realization they had made a deadly mistake slashed through Juan’s guts like a blazing sword. Anguished, he strengthened his grip on his wife in a defying gesture. The impervious pale face that looked down at him with a hint of disdain, abruptly exhorted some incomprehensible words followed by a vigorous swing of his hand to signal the way to the large truck. Juan, stern, held his wife back and scanned the darkness for his coyote determined to turn around. The pale man reached out, grabbed Consuelo, and with a sharp pull, ripped her from her spouse’s arms launching her violently toward the vehicle. Juan lunged onto the obscure figure, who with astonishing ease pivoted back in time to strike him in the face with the back of his fist knocking Juan to the ground.

Consuelo let out a scream but was quickly silenced by the other nondescript man who suddenly appeared beside her and dragged her to the truck by the arm, threw her inside, and slammed the door closed. Consuelo sprung around, reached for the door handle and pulled, but it wouldn’t open. She punched it, pushed it, shook it and pulled it again; it wouldn’t budge. She was trapped. Quickly, she pressed her hands and face against the window just in time to see her husband struggling back to his feet with eyes torched like those of a bull about to charge.

And then, she heard the ominous bang.

To her horror, Juan dropped to his knees clutching his chest; his eyes desperately searching for hers, now reflecting the painful look of a man that had failed miserably to protect what he most loved. Their eyes met, he begged her for forgiveness and then collapsed forward lifelessly.

Before him, a gun smoked in the hands of La Sombra.

After what seemed an eternal drive, the armored vehicle slowed down. Unnerved by the ordeal, Consuelo had lost all sense of time and space. She was distraught and exhausted from her intense prayer. She no longer aspired to a better life. How could she without Juan? All her thoughts and hopes converged on her little baby. She prayed over and over again, begging God to protect her little one as the contractions came on at ever-closer waves. What was going to happen to her baby? she sobbed helplessly embracing her own body.

Finally the truck turned onto a semicircular driveway and came to a stop under a covered porch in front of a large brick building with layered-rows of windows. Consuelo, awakened to her surroundings by the blinding brightness of the entryway, was shocked to recognize a word printed on one of the two wide automatic glass doors: Hospital. It didn’t make any sense. Why would her lethal kidnappers take her to a safe hospital?

The pale man, whose haunting features didn’t improve in the light, descended from the truck and walked around to open her door. Then, a couple of young male nurses in light aqua gowns appeared through the automatic doors with a wheelchair. As Consuelo was aided down, she rapidly slid her frightened eyes between the two men struggling to find her voice to beg for help. She never found it. Instead, she felt a subtle prick on her arm followed rapidly by a warm wave that ended in a spell of faint vertigo. Weakness took over her body, and like a rag doll, she collapsed senseless into the chair.

Bang! The deafening sound roared Consuelo out of her nightmare. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes and struggled to focus, so she rubbed them softly noticing her arms felt unnaturally heavy. Resuming her attempt to find her bearings, she looked around. Consuelo found herself lying on a comfortable bed in a dim-lit room. The walls were painted in a soothing pastel pink. There was an armchair in the corner to her left beside a draped window, and on her right, two doors, one slightly cracked-open to reveal a bathroom; the other, she guessed, was the access to the room.

Initially confused as to where she was, Consuelo remained cautiously still, her eyes wandering the room with increasing discomfort. Soon enough, the avalanche of vile memories flooded back: her husband, the gun, the hospital…. her baby. Her baby! She reached for her abdomen. It wasn’t there. With a surge of panic she arduously pulled back the covers. After fumbling to lift her gown, her eyes froze with horror on the painful scar. As the night before, her throat wrestled with itself to emit a sound, but this time, it did not fail; the bellow wildly filled the room.

A blonde woman dressed in a white robe stormed in. Consuelo, with tearing eyes shouted uncontrollably asking for her baby in her native language: "¿Dónde está mi bebé?"

The doctor leaned forward to hold Consuelo’s arms down, and with a soft voice, hushed her quiet.

"Mi bebé, ¿dónde está mi bebé?" she repeated with a look of desperation.

Dr. Traugott, as her nametag identified, looked down at her naked abdomen and studied the cesarean scar. When she raised her head, a dark shadow played across her eyes. It was apparent to Consuelo that something unsettled her, but like a mother that tucks her child in bed, the blonde woman covered her up again and then gently caressed her brown hair offering a sweet smile in an attempt to comfort her.

Consuelo, for the first time since the beginning of her terrifying ordeal, could sense some kindness, surprised that ice-blue eyes could transmit such warmth. Her breathing eased and pointing to her abdomen she asked again: "¿Mi bebé?"

The attractive woman said something slowly, but the reduced speed failed to make the words anymore comprehensible. She then stood up and turned to exit the room just as the door swung open giving way to a tall, young, yet fully-shaved bald man displaying a rigid demeanor. With his piercing eyes, he looked at Consuelo for an instant and quickly turned his scowl to Dr. Traugott who again uttered something incomprehensible. Consuelo could tell from her intonation that she was inquiring about something. The somber man offered her a forced smile, and while answering calmly, he put his hand on Dr. Traugott’s shoulder and gently guided her to the door. Before leaving, she turned to give Consuelo a quick reassuring smile betrayed by a meditative look; and then she was gone.

Consuelo, fighting her fears, insisted on harboring some hope that this unsympathetic man could provide her with information about her baby. To her dismay, she observed how he approached the phone on the side table and dialed. He whispered something into it with clear signs of being irritated and hung up. Without as much as another glimpse at her, he turned and left the room.

Her fears where now winning. Consuelo ran her eyes around the empty room, its walls closing in on her as anxiety overwhelmed her senses.

The door opened once more. A weathered woman approached briskly with a tray in her hands and laid it on the table beside the bed. She then hastily picked up a syringe and squirted a drop of clear liquid into the air. Consuelo instinctively reacted by launching her hands forward to stop the hostile woman’s advance; her weakened state was no match for the buxom nurse. With a soft cry and eyes of despair, Consuelo looked helplessly at her arm as the needle punctured her skin. Brief seconds later, she dozed away.

Wake up, she could hear but not understand. Please, wake up, she heard again as two hands firmly gripped her arms and shook her. The voice was familiar. Consuelo fought her sealed eyes and slowly opened them. Despite the blur, she immediately recognized the beautiful blue eyes that stared back at her, but the warmth was gone. They now reflected concern and urgency.

Dr. Traugott pulled Consuelo up to a sitting position on the bed. She then reached for some clothes, shoved them in front of her, and signaled her to put them on. Consuelo, still drowsy and feeling as if her head were going to fall off, rubbed her face trying to make sense of what was going on. Undeterred by Consuelo’s daze, Dr. Traugott pulled the covers back and helped the patient slide her legs down the side of the bed. Consuelo, exercising some control over her muscles with much effort, asked where they were going: ¿A dónde vamos?

The doctor quickly put her finger to her lips imploring silence and shook the clothes indicating, again, that she must put them on. The impenetrable language barrier didn’t stop Consuelo from understanding that this woman was in a hurry and trying to help her, and if there was any chance of reuniting with her baby, like a blind person entrusting her direction to a guide dog, she would comply.

The clothes were slightly saggy but conveniently comfortable for her recovering body. Dressed in a butter-yellow long sleeve shirt, marine blue jeans and a pair of worn white sneakers, Consuelo clumsily walked out of the room aided by her rescuer. To her right she saw a nurse reception area where two women faced away conversing with a young handsome man. Behind them were the elevators. Dr. Traugott, however, tugged her left down the bright-lit hallway to an exit door. They climbed up one set of stairs and stopped in front of the wooden exit door a floor above. Holding Consuelo back with her arm, Dr. Traugott peeked through the door’s narrow rectangular window and then recoiled swiftly. Consuelo could barely hear the footsteps through the pounding of her own heart. As they faded away, Dr. Traugott looked cautiously through the window again and then opened the door to re-enter a hallway similar to the one they had just left. This one, however, was flanked by two walls with a string of doors only interrupted on one side by elevators. No reception area. Dr. Traugott looked both ways before deciding to proceed toward the elevators and nervously jabbed at the down-arrow button. It became apparent to Consuelo that their detour up a floor was to avoid the nurses and not to fetch her baby. She was mystified, anxiously teetering between dread and hope.

In the elevator she could see the floor numbers light up as they descended. To her surprise it stopped at number two. Was her baby here? She looked at the doctor. Dr. Traugott, engrossed in her thoughts, neglected to see Consuelo’s inquisitive stare and ushered her out of the elevator into another desolate hallway. This one ended at a big bottle-green double-door. They walked toward it as quickly as Consuelo could drag her bruised body.

Suddenly, in the distance, she heard a door slam. The doctor gasped swinging her fearful blue eyes back, and then quickly forward again, as she pushed the doors open out to a staircase that lead to a parking lot.

Consuelo froze. What about her baby? She couldn’t leave without her baby. "¿Mi bébé?" she cried refusing to move another step.

The doctor, looking nervously back at the hallway as the threatening sounds of footsteps approached around the corner, grabbed Consuelo’s hand and pulled.

"Mi bébé," repeated Consuelo with stern eyes.

Dr. Traugott jerked her finger at a car waiting at the foot of the stairs. With a deep accent she exhorted: "Bebé!"

Consuelo flashed her eyes down at the car. Could it be true? Was her baby in that vehicle? Ignoring her poor condition, Consuelo sprinted down the staircase like a wounded marathon runner. Instinctively, she reached to protect her scar as she lowered her head to enter the back door, and then, she froze in her seat. There, beside her, snuggled in a bundle, laid a crying baby. The mother, initially hesitant, stared at the child fearful that it would vanish if she attempted to touch her. Slowly, she leaned forward and picked up the infant who, finding comfort in the warm embrace, immediately ceased its cry. As if to confirm the mirage was real, Consuelo tentatively caressed the child’s delicate cheek examining every feature. Tears of joy rolled down her face. The baby was perfect, beautiful like an angel, and no doubt hers: she recognized Juan’s big black eyes staring back at her. With a surge of fierce determination, she embraced her child and swore: Never again. Never would she allow anyone to harm or take her baby again. She was ready to die... or kill.

In the mist of such elation, the joyous mother neglected to care that the car was moving and fast. The dark-haired driver flew the vehicle through the streets. His sharp left-turn launched Consuelo against the car door. Fumbling to steady her baby, she bolted upright and brought her attention to him. She recognized him immediately. He was the young man she saw talking to the nurses at the nurse desk; most probably distracting their attention, she now realized.

Another sharp turn —this time to the right— forced her to find support again. Consuelo was seated behind Dr. Traugott and could see her fretful gaze reflected in the vehicle’s side-view mirror. In fact, as she examined the tense silence in the front, it was clear they were both visibly frightened.

What had they saved her and her child from?

Who were they?

Consuelo had a million burning questions. Unfortunately, her seating position impeded her from seeing a key piece of the puzzle. In the vehicle with them, saved, too, from the hospital, and quietly sleeping in Dr. Traugott’s arms, was another baby: a baby boy.

One last zigzag and the driver drifted the car to a quick stop in front of a double towered church. He hastily exited and circumnavigated the sage green vehicle to open Consuelo’s door. With a wave of his hand he signaled her out. Consuelo, a devout believer, could not have thought of a better place to find salvation. Holding her baby tightly, she stepped out and admired the pale pink, Spanish style, stucco temple that rose with pride over two flights of stairs. Her young chauffeur pointed up to the front door and gently shoved her forward. Consuelo understood his instructions and obediently proceeded to the daunting climb as the strain of the escapade pulled on her weakened legs like heavy chains.

Midway, she stopped for a brief moment to gather her strength. When she looked up to reinitiate her climb, she saw a holy figure emerge at the top of the stairs. The rugged man, dressed in a brown hooded robe and sandals was unmistakably a Franciscan Friar. He slid his eyes from Consuelo to her baby and back to her again. Then, with a warm smile, he stepped down a few steps, reached out and softly gripped her arm to aid her up the rest of the way.

Upon approaching the Church’s majestic front door, Consuelo was startled to hear screeching wheels in the background. She quickly turned to look and, disheartened, saw it was Dr. Traugott and her companion driving away. Where were they going? It never crossed her mind they would just leave like that, though she really hadn’t had a chance to think much at all. Everything was happening fast and far from her control. She felt distraught. She had questions; she owed them her life, her baby’s life. She had to show them her gratitude, pay them back in some way. But it was too late, they were gone.

The barrel-shaped nave was flanked by two rows of columns that separated the side-aisles from the central arched space. But it was the kaleidoscopic glow from the artfully crafted, stained-glass windows that caught Consuelo’s attention.

I am Brother Tomas, said the friar, addressing Consuelo in Spanish, as he led her toward the altar.

Where am I? was her befuddled reply.

This is St. Mary’s Basilica, the friar said with pride. Built in 1881, it is the oldest Catholic church in the valley.

What valley?

Brother Tomas looked at her askance, his gaze intrigued. You’re in Phoenix, Arizona. Just under a three hour drive from the Mexican border. They made their way to the private quarters on the second floor. Please take a seat, said the friar. Would you like something to drink?

Consuelo nodded while collapsing into an armed chair. It was all happening so fast. Was she really safe now? She elevated her eyes to the cross on the wall. Of course I am, she convinced herself. I’m in God’s house. Then looking down at her baby, who slept unaware of the adventure she had already experienced in her short life, Consuelo closed her eyes and addressed God with a thankful prayer.

Is it a boy or a girl? interrupted Brother Tomas delivering a glass of water.

Consuelo was stunned by the question. She didn’t know. She took a quick peek under the infant’s clothes. She’s a girl! she chuckled.

Have you thought of a name? asked the friar with a smile and taking a seat in front of the happy mother.

We—. Consuelo stammered with a sudden sigh. We couldn’t make our mind up—He killed my husband, she rendered unexpectedly as if the secret was launched out of her chest with a slingshot.

Who? asked Brother Tomas.

"La Sombra, our coyote."

Such news didn’t faze the friar. Brother Tomas was accustomed to hearing tragic stories. It was the reason Consuelo was delivered to him. He slid his seat slightly forward and took a deep breath as he searched for the right words. What he was about to reveal was going to be yet another blow, and this woman had already endured a lot. What’s your name? he asked her first.

Consuelo Flores-Silva.

Consuelo, mused the friar recognizing the irony. Her name meant consolation in Spanish; most appropriate and much needed for a woman that was going through what she was. Consuelo, he said again, this time imploring attention. You have been brought to me because you are still in serious danger, and added immediately, but don’t worry. You have nothing to fear here.

She bristled. I’m still in danger? Why?"

I don’t know all the details. It seems that whoever kidnapped you wanted your baby.

That, she knew. But who? Why? she insisted.

With a gloomy look he reached out and removed the little striped-knitted hat to reveal bandages on the nape of the child's head.

The mother gasped.

Brother Tomas quickly replaced the hood to hide the hideous aggression. Early this morning, I got a call. A man told me he was going to bring you here. He wanted me to tell you—, the friar paused to glance at the child with curiosity before continuing, that she carries an extraordinary gift. He then fixed his gaze on Consuelo again. He also added that you should not worry, that she will lead a normal life, but insisted that you and I keep this to ourselves. No one is ever to know of this operation. Not even her if she is to stay safe.

But—, the mother stammered in horror. What did they do to her?

I don’t know. The man was scant and unwilling to reveal much.

Why didn’t they take me to the police?

I asked the same question. The man told me that the police could not protect you.

But if they can’t, how can you?

Because that is what I do, and I’m good at it, responded the friar with a wry grin.

The Phoenix community was not privy of the fact that the Franciscan friars who administered St. Mary’s also lived frugally above the church offices. Some chose not to seek priesthood in order to remain within the community helping those in need. Brother Tomas, due to deep-rooted, personal reasons he rarely shared, brought it upon himself to specialize in hiding and creating new identities for sex trade, drug trade, or any other trade fugitive trailed by a death sentence for daring to escape. They were generally illegal immigrants lured into the country under a false pretext. Brother Tomas gazed at Consuelo somewhat unsettled, though. She was a new type of human trade he had never encountered before. Could he really help her?

The baby girl broke out crying as a suspicious odor filled the air. First things first, resolved the friar. We need to attend to this child.

Who is the man who called you? asked Consuelo feeling in debt again.

"I imagine the same man who dropped you off here. Don’t you know who he is?"

I never saw him before, but the woman with him is a doctor. Her nametag read Dr. Traugott. She spelled it out.

Traugott? muttered the friar rubbing his chin. I don’t think I know anyone by that name. He drew a soft grin. It’s German, he added realizing yet another irony. It means Faith in God.

Enlightenment played upon Consuelo’s features as if the friar’s words were a sign from Heaven itself. That’s it! That will be her name.

Excuse me?

I will call my daughter Faith in honor of the woman who brought us to safety. Faith Fernandez-Flores, what a beautiful name.

Chapter 1

City of Los Angeles, California

The Present

The bucolic charm of Hazard Park —despite its misleading name— usually conveyed a sense of serenity. Today, as Faith left the tennis courts behind to stroll along the creek, its soothing trickle failed to suppress the nagging sense of being followed that plagued her recently. Faith took a quick look around and then dismissed the silly idea choosing to believe that her encounter with Pedro moments earlier was playing emotional tricks with her mind.

Faith was still shaken by what just happened. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy but never expected the brutal outcome. A little rattled, she sought refuge in her favorite getaway hoping to put some order in her head before heading back to her empty apartment and calling her mother to tell her about the incident. Her mother had repeatedly warned her about Pedro, and Faith didn’t have the energy to face another ‘I told you so’.

The park, named after one of Los Angeles’ first mayors, Henry Thomas Hazard, bore unfortunate associations with risk, exacerbated by the fact that a major gang called the Big Hazard roamed nearby leading many to believe it was their territory.

Instead, the crisp summer day brought out its legitimate dwellers. Located in the Boyle Heights neighborhood next door to the USC Medical Center, one of the largest public hospitals and training centers in the United States, it was no surprise that medical staff and students flocked to the green space to enjoy its recreational facilities.

The temperature was perfect: hot, as Faith usually liked it. Today, however, the afternoon sun was excessively punishing for her mood. So, in need of some cover and craving some