< previous page page_10 next page >

Page 10
had been the voice that had awakened Mariah. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes. Yes, I would." Mariah aimed a weak smile at the woman in the aisle seat; the center one between them was empty.
The woman, whose white hair was a sparse curled mop, looked over her half-glasses at Mariah, her eyes full of grandmotherly concern. "Tea, I think. I always drink tea when I wake up from a nightmare."
"A nightmare? Maybe.
As far as Mariah could recall, she had never before dreamt the voice during the day, even when she napped.
The uniformed flight attendants wheeled their cart beside Mariah's row. One cheerfully requested her order. With unaccustomed obedience, she asked for teaplus a can of apple juice for energy. She refused a small foil packet of peanuts.
"Feeling better now?" her seatmate asked solicitously.
"Yes, thanks," she replied. But was she?
It had happened again. This time in broad daylight.
The voice in her dreams had issued its incomprehensible command since as far back in her twenty-eight years as she could remember. Her childhood, on top of all the memories she'd wanted to leave behind, was peppered with the voice and its directive.
There was never a visual attached to the rasping vocalization. Only blackness. It always said the same thing: "You must right a grievous wrong."
Strange words. Old-fashioned.
Why did they have the ability to affect her this way? They filled her with a sense of excitement. Anticipation. Destiny.
Dread.
Years earlier, she had forced herself more than once to stay awake all night to avoid hearing the voice. She'd never understood the feelings that resulted from the command. That was what unnerved hernot the voice, but her eager yet fearful reaction to it.
The vocal hallucination was one factor that had drawn her to the entertainment industry, where people often worked all

 
< previous page page_10 next page >