The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions Book 2) (20 page)

“You run!” I yell at Mira. “I’ll follow you.”

Not waiting to see if she will follow my command, I frantically glance back at Sam. He’s holding a knife now.

I know what I have to do. I have to attack him, to slow him down. As I think about this, I again experience that feeling. Like I’m about to phase into the Quiet. This time, though, it does something.

Time seems to slow down for me.

In this slow motion, I begin running toward him. As I run, I watch Sam’s left hand grip the knife by the blade. His arm swings back, and then he lets the deadly projectile fly. In this same slow motion, I see the knife rotating in the air as it flies toward us. I try to brace myself—but then I see that the knife is not flying at me.

It’s flying at Mira.

With an explosion of despair, I see the knife make the last deadly rotation as it strikes Mira’s chest. It penetrates deeply, almost to the hilt, and I hear a scream of agony escape Mira’s mouth.

Some irrational part of me wonders if I can run, phase us out before the knife does its deadly work, but then I remember the distance to the car and abandon that option. It’s too far.

Mira’s hands clutch the hilt of the knife, and a look of utter dread crosses her face. For the first time, I see her as the young and fragile woman that she is. Our eyes meet as she begins to cough up blood. Slowly, almost gracefully, she falls down. By the time she hits the ground, those deep blue eyes that are still staring into mine lose their focus.

She’s dead.

No. I can’t accept that—because if I do, I’ll fall on the ground in grief. And I can’t fall. Not now. Not after everything.

I feel my grief and terror transform into something else. A violent and uncontrollable fury.

I become wrath. I become rage.

A part of me registers Sam approaching, but instead of fear, I feel elation at what I’m about to do. The world becomes focused on a single point. On a single target.

A person. No, not a person—a thing, a piece of meat that I must destroy. A cancer that I must cut out.

A roar, like that of a wounded animal, leaves my throat.

I run at Sam.

He runs at me.

In a mixture of Haim’s and Caleb’s moves, I land blows to his stomach and face before he registers my intent. I kick his shin next, and Sam blocks it, but he misses the kick that goes for his balls. As my foot makes contact, he gasps and turns pale, but doesn’t stop blocking and manages to deflect my jab at his solar plexus.

Recovering from my surprise attack, Sam attempts a punch of his own. I block his punch with my left forearm and slam my right fist into Sam’s jaw with all my strength.

Excruciating pain explodes in my forearm and right fist, but it doesn’t matter. All I can think about is the satisfying crunch his jaw just made. It’s like music to my ears, and I want to hear more of his bones break. I want to hear it even if I need to break what’s left of my own fingers in the process.

I feint with my right fist, and when Sam reacts to it, I try to hit his nose with my left elbow.

The pain in my arm is unbearable, but I ignore it, the elation of hearing the bone-crunching sound overriding everything else. His nose is bleeding now, likely broken.

He doesn’t pause, though, and my moment of triumph is followed by an eruption of agony in my side. Air leaves my lungs with a whoosh, and I desperately try to regain my balance. Sam’s knee connects with my ribs somehow, and I don’t get a chance to stabilize myself. Not when Sam kicks my knee next, and I begin falling. As I fall, he manages to kick my flying body several times. I’m only able to block a few of the blows before I fall face down on the ground.

My body feels broken, and the metallic taste of blood is in my mouth. I try to spit it out, but I can’t. My body doesn’t obey me as kicks continue to rain down on me. I lose count of them, the pain blending together into an avalanche of suffering.

I don’t know how I’m still conscious, but I suddenly become cognizant that he stopped. And before I have a chance to wonder why, I feel his hands grab my head, holding it in a viselike grip.

No
, I scream in my mind as my head turns to the side with an impossibly loud crunch. There is an explosion of pain in my neck, followed by an awful numbness.

A numbness that engulfs my entire body.

In the horrifying absence of pain, I realize that I’m looking at Sam from a strange angle. This shouldn’t be possible. I shouldn’t be able to see him at all, since I’m lying on my stomach. And then I begin to understand.

I understand the numbness and the crunching noise.

I understand why I now feel like I’m choking.

My neck is broken
.
The spinal cord has snapped, and my head is twisted backwards. This is why the guillotine was considered a merciful death. When your head is separated from the body, there is no pain. You simply die. In seconds.

As my consciousness begins to slip, I stare at the sky, knowing it’s the last thing I’ll ever see.

Something smacks me in the face. The pain is a welcome surprise. That I can feel anything at all fills me with a sense of wonder.

I was never a believer in the afterlife, but I was apparently wrong. Something exists after death, or so it seems.

I open my eyes to even more confusion.

Why would there be an airbag in my face in the afterlife?

I’m suddenly fully alert.

Somehow, I’m back in Thomas’s car. Next to me, I see Thomas himself. He’s behind the wheel. He also has an airbag in his face, but he’s moving.

He’s alive.

“Ouch,” I hear a high-pitched voice from the back.

Hillary’s voice.

“You should’ve fucking let me drive.” It’s Mira’s voice now. Sharp and annoyed, but unmistakably alive. The joy and relief that fills me is indescribable.

“Mira,” I almost yell. “You’re alive!”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Eugene’s voice says from the back. “What the fuck happened after I was shot in the Mind Dimension?”

“Yeah, what happened?” Thomas echoes.

“You’re alive too, Eugene! You’re
all
alive. I can’t believe it!” I’m hoping this isn’t some hallucination or a trick of my dying brain. “I saw all three of you die.
I
died.”

“Just the three of us?” Thomas asks. “So, Hillary, you didn’t?”

“No,” she says. “I was injured and bleeding, but when that monster killed Darren, I was still alive.”

“Then we still stand a chance,” Thomas says.

“Yes. In fact, the plan is almost unchanged,” Hillary says. “Who were those men?”

“A leader of the Readers and his guard,” I answer on autopilot as I try to process the fact that somehow we are all alive.

“What? How did one of us end up being one of them?” Hillary sounds almost as confused as I feel. “You know what, there’s no time for that. I saw the mobsters with the marks Darren left on their heads. I can take control of them and then evacuate the rest of the people.”

I manage to push away the airbag and look behind me.

Hillary has a look of concentration on her face.

“Okay, I just tried to take care of it,” she says, her features returning to normal after a moment. “I hope it goes smoothly.”

“What do you mean?” Mira and I say in unison.

“And how are we even alive?” I add, barely able to contain the turbulent mixture of emotions swirling inside me. “I thought we died—”

“Darren, when you get killed in the Mind Dimension, you don’t die in the real world,” Hillary says, looking at me. “We all feel like something bad is going to happen if we die in there, and it does—but it’s not death. It’s more of a major inconvenience.”

“What? No, wait,” I say, confused. “Yes, you do. You die, I’m sure of it. I—”

“No, you don’t, as we obviously didn’t,” Mira says. “But we did lose something.”

“Try to Split, Darren,” Eugene says, looking at me. “Then you’ll understand.”

I do as he says. Phasing into the Quiet right now should be the easiest thing in the world. I’ve got all this residual fear and adrenaline stored up.

Only it doesn’t happen. The frustrated feeling is familiar. It’s exactly how I felt in those scary moments in the Quiet. It’s like trying to phase and hitting a mental brick wall.

“The three of us are Inert now,” Thomas explains as he gets his airbag situation under control. “We can’t Split into the Mind Dimension.”

It must be the overflow of emotion because the sense of loss I feel is intense. “We lost our powers?” I say in disbelief.

“Yes. For a while,” Thomas says. “Not forever.”

“So it’s not permanent?” The wave of relief is nearly as powerful as my sense of loss a second ago.

“No, it’s not. When you die in the Mind Dimension, it’s a lot like using up your time, only the Inertness lasts much longer,” Eugene explains.

“I’ve never run out of time in the Quiet before,” I say, and I hear the note of unease in my voice. Logically, I know that temporarily losing my powers is in no way comparable to dying, but it still feels frightening. The Quiet has been my security blanket, a safety net I’ve used since childhood, and I feel its loss keenly.

“I understand, Darren.” Hillary gives me a sympathetic look. “Like you, I’ve never run out of time, so I can’t even imagine what that would be like. I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

“He’ll be fine. It’ll come back,” Thomas says. He doesn’t seem overly concerned about his own loss of powers, but then again, his are more limited than mine or Hillary’s.

As he speaks, something occurs to me. “So is this why you were so cavalier when you pointed that gun at me yesterday?” I ask, staring at Mira. That never made sense to me. Not after I saved her life the day before. “You weren’t threatening to kill me. You were threatening to strip me of my power?”

“Right,” she says. “Honestly, I was just bluffing. I wasn’t really going to make you Inert. Not given what I knew about your insane Depth. I’m sorry about that whole incident. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were actually scared for your life.” She pauses, then adds, “Most likely.”

The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. “So that’s why Eugene said that weird shit about not shooting me because I can spend months in the Mind Dimension?”

“Yeah.” Eugene nods. “It would’ve been a sacrilege to take away so much power. I couldn’t let her do it. She can be cranky when she wakes up, so I didn’t even realize she was bluffing.”

I blow out a relieved breath. So it wasn’t that Eugene wanted to use me, as I’d originally thought. He had been aware of the true cost of death in the Quiet all along and was simply trying to protect me.

Everything starts to make sense now. When Caleb said during our Joining that dying in the Quiet has a lasting effect, he didn’t mean death; he meant the Pusher would be Inert. This also explains Caleb’s slightly odd thought about it being time to ‘begin’ killing the Pusher. He must’ve meant that step one was making the man Inert. Without powers, it must be much easier to dispatch one of us outside the Quiet. And this is why Caleb tried to phase into the Quiet from not too far away. Once the Pusher was killed in the Quiet and therefore rendered Inert, Caleb, who still possessed his powers, would’ve made short work of him.

I’m still not solid on the details, but things are beginning to be clearer.

“How long will it take me to recover?” I ask.

“It varies for everyone,” Eugene says.

“Wait,” Thomas says, turning toward me. “Hold on a second. Is your ‘Depth’ the same thing we call Reach? And if so, are you saying that yours is
months
? You never mentioned this, Darren.”

I shrug, still thinking about my Inert state, but Hillary smiles proudly. “He is my nephew, after all.”

“Is this why you didn’t run when I asked you to?” Mira stares at me, her eyes shining. “You thought we were in mortal danger?”

“Well, yeah,” I admit, somewhat embarrassed. “I couldn’t just leave you there. Sam was right on our heels. I didn’t realize you were trying to save my powers.”

“I was actually trying to end her suffering,” Mira explains, glancing at Hillary.

“Thank you,” my aunt says.

There is a moment of silence as everyone seems to relive those terrifying moments.

“So what’s with this car crash?” I ask finally. “How does that fit into everything?”

“That’s my fault,” Thomas says. “The shock of dying and then finding myself behind the wheel again was too much, so I rear-ended that guy.”

“I took care of that driver,” Hillary says. “He’ll think he backed into a fire hydrant.”

“You keep saying that you took care of things,” Mira says. “But you’re not explaining what you did or how you did it. What’s happening on that bridge?”

“Oh, that. I Guided the mobsters to hold down your fellow Leachers—I mean, Jacob and Sam. The mobsters are probably moving in on them as we speak,” Hillary explains.

“I still can’t believe it,” Eugene says through gritted teeth. “It’s been Jacob all this time.” In an uncharacteristic move for Eugene, he punches my seat in frustration. It doesn’t hurt, so I don’t say anything. I understand exactly how he feels.

“Wait, it just occurred to me. The name Jacob,” Hillary says. “Didn’t you say that the name of the person on the phone was Esau?”

“Yes,” I say. “So?”

“Jacob and Esau were brothers in the Scripture. The guy practically gave you a hint as to who he is,” Hillary says.

“So Jacob ordered that explosion,” Mira says slowly, and I realize that this fact is only now beginning to dawn on her. “It was a Reader who ruined our lives, not a Pusher.”

“Yes, it was Jacob using an alias of Esau,” I confirm softly. “He ordered Arkady to use the explosives.” Mira’s entire world must be turning upside down. Pushers are not her enemies, while Readers, her own people, seem to be.

“I don’t understand.” Eugene sounds bewildered. “There was definitely a Pusher involved. He pops up in many of the gangsters’ memories.”

“There must be more to this,” Hillary says. “After the police question everyone involved, we can access their files. Maybe something will turn up.”

“What police?” Mira’s voice gets soft. Dangerously soft. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m about to call them,” Hillary explains. “That’s the part of the plan that’s now different. Easier, in fact. The gangsters should be able to hold those two Leachers down, and instead of us calling our Guide friends, I’ll let the cops handle this. Guides are not equipped to deal with Leachers. They’ll kill them, and I can’t have that. Don’t worry, though. Unlike Guides, Leachers can’t get out of jail. Right?” she says, apparently missing the hard gleam in Mira’s eyes.

“No fucking way—”

Mira’s harsh words get interrupted by the sound of distant gunfire. One shot is followed by several in rapid succession.

Hillary turns pale.

Mira’s head whips toward the bridge, and I see her coming to a swift decision. Before I can say anything, she springs into action. She opens the door, presses the door lock button, slams the door shut behind her, and begins running toward the bridge.

“Fuck!” Thomas fumbles with the lock. “I told you she’d be a liability.”

I frantically unbuckle my seatbelt to go after her.

“Stop her,” Thomas barks at Hillary as he finally unlocks the doors. “You’re the only one who can.”

“I can’t,” Hillary objects. “She’s got a gun. She could shoot a civilian if I try to use them.”

“This is not the time for pacifism.” I don’t see the expression on my aunt’s face, but I hear Thomas curse and then say, “Fine. Improvise something. You there, hand me that rifle—”

I don’t hear Eugene’s response because I open the door and start running after Mira. Immediately, I’m reminded of the fact that I’m no longer in the Quiet. The cars around us are moving at full speed, and I almost get run over twice before I reach the sidewalk. When I hear screeching brakes, I attempt to phase in, but it’s futile. I can’t go into the Quiet.

I’ve been Inert less than five minutes, and I already hate it.

“I was barely able to control that last car, you know,” a cab driver says cryptically from his window as I run past him. He’s wearing a turban and speaking with a slight Indian accent. I’m pretty sure I’ve never met him. “You’re my blood relative, Darren, and I desperately want you to live. Please be careful.”

My attention shifts from the strange cabby to the road I just crossed as I hear loud honking, followed by a thump. Glancing back, I see Eugene on the ground in front of a car. My heart skips a beat, but I don’t stop.

I have to get to Mira.

As I get close to the bridge, I see a crowd of people rushing toward me. It must be Hillary’s improvised Guided evacuation. Here and there, I notice familiar faces—people I’d Read and Guided myself.

At my approach, the crowd parts, leaving a wide path for me. It’s odd, but it serves me, so I don’t question it.

“Darren, hurry, she’s almost there,” says an old lady as I run onto the boardwalk-like portion of the bridge.

“It’s me, Hillary, by the way,” a little kid says as he runs by me. “Why do you look so shocked?”

Now I get it. The cabby, the old lady, the people giving me room to run, and now the kid. Hillary is Guiding these people to aid me, and she’s giving me messages through them. I’d be very impressed if I weren’t in such a panic.

Then I hear tires screech behind me again.

“A car almost hit Thomas. He’s okay, though. Still running your way. Eugene is also okay; he just hurt his leg. He might not make it there in time,” the buff guy with PTSD says as I pass by him.

Before I get a chance to feel reassured, there is a strange wail. At least a hundred people all around the bridge scream in unison like some hellish chorus, “No, Mira, don’t!”

And then the people in front of me fall to the ground. What makes that move extra-spooky is that they do it simultaneously, like they were all stricken with some deadly poison at the exact same moment.

This gives me a clear view of what’s about the happen—a view that explains why Hillary made them do that. She wouldn’t give so many civilians bruises without good cause.

On the far end of the bridge, I see two large men fighting. Fighting to the death, by the looks of it.

One of them I recognize instantly. It’s Arkady, the psychopath from the banya. He must be under Hillary’s control. The other one is Sam.

The fury that gripped me earlier returns as I see Sam holding the same knife that he threw at Mira in the Quiet.

And then I register what Mira is doing.

This is what Hillary wanted me so desperately to see.

Mira is aiming her gun at the two fighting men.

In that instant, I also take in the rest of the scene. On the ground next to Sam and Arkady, two of Arkady’s men are holding down Jacob. The rest of the mobsters, including the one who tried to shoot me the other day, are lying on the ground bleeding. Those must’ve been the shots we heard. The gangsters were probably shot trying to get Sam’s and Jacob’s guns away from them—and it looks like they succeeded.

“Mira, there is no need to kill anyone!” Arkady screams as he continues wrestling with Sam. Hillary must be speaking through his mouth as well.