Can you get there in time
?
I don't know
.
I can feel him inside, Dylan. Turning. Growing
.
Yeah. I can too
.
I'm scared
.
Yeah. I'm scared too
.
What if we can't stop him
?
Dylan closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again.
Then a lot more people are going to die
.
A new voice appeared in Dylan's mind, shoving aside Joni's voice. Deep. Guttural. Wrenching.
Oh yes, Dylan. A lot more people are going to die. I can promise you that
.
“Where are we going?” Webb asked.
“Don't know,” Quinn answered as she drove. “Billings, maybe. Isn't that where you live?”
“If living's what you want to call it.”
Quinn breathed in, breathed out, trying to equalize the pressure, but it wasn't working. She felt her body bloating, expanding, the interior thoughts stretching to find their way to the surface. If only she had a needle or something. A quick trip to the bathroom and she could get some release from the pressure.
“Where's Dylan going?” he asked.
“Said he was going east. Out to the plains.”
“Really?”
“That's what he said.”
“But I don't get the impression you believe him.”
Quinn shrugged. “Guess I don't.”
“He's going back to the HIVE, isn't he?”
She thought for a moment, took a deep breath. “Yeah. Whether he wants to or not.”
Webb was quiet for a few minutes. Then: “We're going to the HIVE, too, aren't we?”
Quinn looked at the white powder flowing by outside their window. “Yeah, I suppose we are.”
“But you didn't want Dylan to know that becauseâ”
“Because . . . well, it's complicated. But let's just say, if Dylan knew we were following him, everyone at HIVE would find out too. Best to just let him think we were leaving.”
Webb nodded thoughtfully. “Doesn't really matter, though, does it?”
“Why doesn't it matter?” She breathed in, counted to three. Out, counted to three.
“Because we're all gonna die in this anyway. You. Me. Dylan.”
In-two-three. Out-two-three. “Yeah, Webb. I think you're probably right.”
“Just so we're clear on that,” Webb said.
“We're clear on that,” Quinn answered. “Crystal.”
In many ways, it was like reliving the explosion on that lonely stretch of highway outside Baghdad. The narrowing and constricting of his senses, until all he saw, heard, tasted, felt came to him through a long, dark tunnel. The odd sensation of being disconnected from his surroundings.
The pain, however, was new.
When his leg had been blown up, he hadn't really felt any pain at first. Not until he'd awakened in the hospital. But now, as he turned at Eddie's Corner and headed the last few miles to the HIVE compound, he felt shards of glass, sharp and wet, scraping the inside of his mind. The inside of his body.
Everywhere.
As if he were being torn in two. He almost felt he could hear wet, sickening rips inside his mind.
Think of it as dust
, the new voice said.
I'm doing a little remodeling inside your mind
.
Dylan refused to answer.
Finding your short-term memories right now. You've been talking to . . . ah . . . a woman named Quinn
?
Dylan tried to keep his mind blank. Eyes on the road. Think nothing. Feel nothing.
I know who Quinn is
.
Who is she
? Dylan asked, unable to help himself.
A snake
.
Interesting you should use that term
.
Obviously, she's poisoned your mind against me. Probably told you stories, lies about me. About HIVE
.
She did share some information
.
Well, what do you know about her
?
Dylan paused, and Li read the hesitation in that pause.
See? A snake. She tells lies about me, about HIVE, and deflects attention away from her true self
.
What is her true self
?
Dylan felt his eyes glance at a mile marker. An odd sensation, because he hadn't moved his eyes. Li was slowly taking over; he could feel his own control leaking away.
You familiar with meth
? Li asked inside.
Sure. Kind of the low-rent drug of choice
.
Low-rent. Right. So you're familiar with the effects of meth. Long-term, I mean
.
The meth eats them, eventually
.
He felt Li move inside, as if . . . rolling over.
Usually, people end up with what's been called meth psychosis. The drug remaps the brain, makes people see things that aren't there
.
Meth bugs. Dylan was familiar with this. People who did a lot of meth ended up having scabs on their skin. Zoey, a certified meth head who squatted in an abandoned warehouse near his home in Billings, constantly complained about the bugs in her skin.
Yes
, Li said.
Many meth addicts call them bugs. They start to feel like there are bugs embedded in their skin, and they constantly scratch at their skin to get the bugs out
.
So
?
So tell me: did Quinn have any . . . skin issues
?
Dylan thought of the embedding thing, the paper clip in the palm of her hand.
Inside, he felt Li jump all over the thought.
Yes, yes! She called herself an embedder! That's what your memory of the conversation is telling me
.
So you're saying she's a meth addict
.
I'm saying it's moved to meth psychosis. She needs help. Treatment. Detox. I'm saying anything else she said is likely to be part of her psychosis. Did you know some meth addicts get delusions of grandeur, delusions of persecution? They think they're in communion with God, or they
are
God, or they're being pursued by . . . demons, for instance
.
Li paused, letting Dylan think for a few moments. Could it be true? All of Quinn's talk, just a drug-induced delusion?
Wait. No. But you're inside my mind now. That proves everything Quinn said
.
Does it
? Li asked inside.
You've been known to take a few drugs yourself, Dylan. More than a few. And then, once we got you detoxified inside the HIVE, once you left with that woman . . . well, who knows what kind of drugs she may have pumped into you
?
Dylan paused.
No
.
But you know I'm right. You were unconscious for . . . more than a day, at the least. That points to drugs. Is that someone concerned for your safety? Someone who just gives you drugs after you've been through a detox? Do you realize how dangerous it is to introduce drugs to an addict who's in the midst of detox
?
No
.
Well, let's just say it can cause hallucinations. Psychotic delusions
.
So you're trying to tell me you're not realâthat you're not inside my mind and body, that you're just a delusion. But yet, I should listen to my delusion
?
Ah, many artists and brilliant thinkers have been given insight by their . . . mental problems. Drug problems. The source of the insight doesn't matter; the
truth
of the insight does
.
Dylan thought. Could it be? Was he making this all up? He looked at his hands on the steering wheel, consciously made an effort to lift his right hand.
It lifted without any effort.
See? How your perspective changes when you realize what's really happening? If you'll just tell me where Quinn went, we can find her. Help her
.
I don't know
.
Of course you know. You're just not telling me. You're scared, I know. But we'll help Quinn, just like we're going to help you. Get her into detox, get you back into detox again, wean you off the Percocets and Vicodins
.
I . . . I told you, I don't know
.
Dylan's mind once again flooded with past thoughts. He'd made the meth connection when he first woke up in the room with Quinn; Li had somehow tapped into that memory, that thought, put a shine on it and coaxed him with it. A poison apple.
You're just feeding meâ
Of course you know!
Li screamed inside.
Fresh waves of pain leaked from his brain as Li grabbed his mind and twisted.
You're keeping it inside that . . . that green box
.
What green box
?
The pain inside Dylan's mind intensified as Li rolled once again, like . . . like a monster waking from a deep slumber.
You had your chance, Dylan Runs Ahead. You could have told me what secrets you were holding in that green box, but you chose to be difficult. Soon, when I kill off my old body, I will have full power over yours. I will see everything inside that green box, and I will eat it alive
.
Dylan looked at his right hand again, tried to move it.
Ah, so your hand's not working
, Li intoned.
Let me help you with that
.
Dylan felt his hand moving, guided by a different mind, a mind that occupied his own. The hand came toward his face, slowly, menacingly, and Dylan felt the fingernails digging deep into the flesh of his cheek, leaving small furrows.
His eyes, guided by the alien mind, forced him to look at his reflection in the rearview mirror of the pickup. Small trails of blood oozed down his cheek.
From now on, Dylan Runs Ahead
, Li's voice boomed inside his mind,
you're my right-hand man
.
The cliff was there, waiting for Dylan, just a few short yards away. A lush carpet of grass stretched away from him to the precipice of the cliff only twenty yards away. Sparkles of dew hung in the morning air, a soft haze settling upon the meadow of flowers behind him.
Poppies. Red poppies. Like Dorothy. He had crossed the field of poppies, had seen there was no Emerald City.
Only a man behind the curtain, and that man behind the curtain waited somewhere at the bottom of the cliff.
He had to jump. No one else would. He had to, because he was Biiluke. He was the warrior who would prove to First Creator that he was fearless.
That he could lead men into war.
He smiled and began to run, feeling the dew of the grass beneath him, feeling his hair fly out behind him, feeling the wind kiss his cheeks as he glided to the edge of the cliff.
At the edge, he dove, and the water below came into focus, a million tiny stars winking on the cool green surface.
As he fell, he saw the arrow coming for him, flying straight and true. It was going to hit him, pierce his chest. He knew this. Had known it even before he jumped off the cliff.
But when the arrow pierced his skin, it did not hurt. It merely spread warmth, power throughout his whole body as he continued his fall. Closer, closer, to the deep green pool below.
Except.
Except, he wasn't diving toward a pool at all. It was a large, emerald box, burnished to a glossy shine.
A kill box.
And when his body lay, broken and twisted, inside the box, the arrow in his chest oozing blood, First Creator appeared over him and whispered, “This is Biiluke. I shall not make many of him.”
Dylan's whole body began to shake, and he felt the life ebbing out of him. First Creator spoke again: “Wake up.”
Dylan awoke to a world in soft focus. He blinked a few times, lifted his head for a few moments, let it sink to the pillow again. It felt as if his muscles were made of soft syrup. Weakly, he tried to move his arm, shift his position on the bed (yes, he was on a bed now, wasn't he?), but . . . he couldn't.
So nice to see you awake, Dylan
. Li's voice. Deep inside. Parroting what the nurse had said to him when he woke up in the hospital after his . . . incident in Iraq.
A smiling face appeared in his vision, and Dylan recognized her. One of the nurses who had been there at his detox.
Yes
, Li said inside.
Nancy is her name. She's a wonderful addition to the HIVE community. Does everything she's told. Maybe she could give you a few pointers
.
“How are you feeling, Li?” Nancy asked.
Dylan's vocal cords and tongue responded, guided by a mind that wasn't his. “Much better, Nancy. Almost to a hundred percent.” Then, inside:
What do you think, Dylan? Feel like I'm almost at a hundred percent to you
?
She called me Li
, Dylan thought.
Oh, yes. You've become a spitting image,
Li responded.
Told you I was remodeling.
Dylan refused to answer. It was the one thing still under his control.
Even though he couldn't control his head, couldn't control his movements, he tried to get a sense of where he was. In a bed, back on the HIVE compound. Probably in one of the underground bunkers. So many bad memories started with him waking up in a bed.
And I've so enjoyed some of those bad memories, Dylan
, Li's voice said.
Let's see if we can add to them
.
Nancy began doing something to his armâLi's arm now, might as well get used to it. Taking out an IV.
Thought we'd already been through this, Li
.
Oh, we have. But this is just a saline solution. Get rehydrated, nurse your body back to full strength. You're strong, even with the bum leg, Dylan. Why, I bet I could go a couple years inside here quite comfortably. Wouldn't that be great, if we had a few years together
?
“Thank you, Nancy,” Li said. “I appreciate your work.”
Nancy reddened a bit in the face, then, obviously pleased at the remark, looked down.
“If you'd just give me a minute,” he said to Nancy. Then he looked at a form under a sheet on an adjacent bed.
Nancy followed the glance and nodded. “I'm sure he'll be thankful you're here with him, Li,” she said. “To comfort him.”