MirrorWorld (50 page)
I stand from my crouched position, ready to make my move.
“Are you sure you need to do this?” Maya asks.
“Everything is in there,” I say. “I don’t think the Dread will be so merciful a second time around.”
“Let the boy go,” Allenby says from my other side. Her poofy hair is tied back. The look in her eyes says she’d like to do this herself. She’s been by our side since we returned to the airport, bloodied but alive. We’ve been staying in the home she’d lived in with Hugh, the home she couldn’t bring herself to sell, just fifteen minutes from Neuro. “He might not be able to stop the demons haunting our souls, but he can at least remove them from this world.”
Allenby, like me, was more deeply involved in Neuro. She feels the weight of what happened and is determined to prevent it from happening again. Today was her idea. I only hope I can do what she’s asked.
Maya sighs, gives me a sheepish smile, and kisses my cheek. “Be careful.”
“Have no fear,” I say and slip into the mirror world. Hand on Faithful, which is sheathed on my back, I scour the surrounding area. Not a living Dread in sight. There are plenty of dead, though, corpses from my encounter with the local matriarch. Her flesh has fallen away, leaving a large skeleton rising up the side of the oscillium building.
Thanks to the mirror world’s disregard for the landscaping of men, I quickly find a tree with long, sweeping branches. I climb up slowly, trying not to break the veins covering the tree, but failing. I’m still not sure how this world works, but my best guess is that the Dread and this world are interconnected: all part of one big ecosystem, driven by fluid veins rather than the cycle of decay and rebirth that governs what I still think of as the real world, despite all frequencies of reality being equally real.
I slide down the branch. It bends under my weight but keeps me above the buzzing fence and deposits me gently on the other side. I lie on the ground, facing the woods, and slip out of the mirror world long enough to give Maya and Allenby a wave and let them know I am past the fence.
Free of interference, I run through the mirror-world swamp toward Neuro’s oscillium shell. I pause at the bottom, considering what I’m about to do. It’s a desecration of the dead, but maybe the Dread won’t see it that way? I have no way to find out, and I don’t think any of them are around to see this anyway. Stepping inside the matriarch’s remains, I scale the side of the building, using her ribs and spine for hand and footholds. At the top, I turn toward the monster’s massive skull. The tendrils are gone. The eye sockets empty. But the holes in its skull, created by the 20 mm rounds I fired, remain. I say my apologies and head on my way.
The ruined elevator shaft grants me entrance beyond the oscillium shield, and I quickly make my way inside the building, moving through the interior while in the world between. With my memory returned, I have no trouble locating the nearest security room. There’s one on every floor. Looking into both worlds, I keep watch on the security guard seated in front of a group of monitors. The screens are alive with movement. Rooms are crowded as scientists, analysts, and men in black suits comb through and inventory everything. It’s possible some of it has already been moved off-site, especially the data. There’s nothing I can do about that, but I can stop them from getting any further.
Standing behind the guard, I send a pulse of fear into him. He twitches, looks around the small room, and writes it off. I give him a second, more powerful dose. He gets to his feet. Reaches for his gun—standard-issue. No oscillium. These guys have no idea what they’re up against yet.
I slip between worlds just long enough to brush my fingers against the back of his neck. He shouts out, spins around, and aims his gun. Nearly fires the thing at the empty wall. I send a wave of fear into him so strong that he nearly pisses himself.
That gets him moving. As soon as he’s out the door and no doubt headed to the bathroom, I materialize inside the security room and access the computer. Memory intact, I have no trouble finding my way through the protocols until I find what I’m looking for. There are a number of different alarms that can go off in this building. Fire. Intruder. Chemical accident. I choose the alarm that should get everyone moving. Biohazard. All levels.
The blaring siren sends people running for the doors. In two minutes flat, the building disgorges its living contents into the parking lot. I head out through the roof and take the express route down, sliding over the smooth surface. This is the last time I’ll make that descent.
While the military guards round everyone up, I overhear some of the suits confirming that the building is empty and the arrival of a biohazard team imminent. But they’re not going to have time to discover the false alarm. I stare at the parking lot full of people and send out a wave of fear. They step back as one, no doubt thinking about the possibility of biocontamination. I give them a second dose until they’re thirty feet back and so afraid that I’m positive no one is going to suddenly get the urge to run back inside.
Then I put my hands on the outside of the building and give them the show of their lives.
The building is big. Massive. But it’s partly constructed of oscillium, and I throw myself into the task without fear of failing. I can feel the oscillium, eager to obey, and then I feel the physical matter of this frequency, less willing but unable to resist. I’ve grown stronger over the past month and have been experimenting with my abilities. I am fully human. Fully Dread. And I can do more than either race can separately. I shift between frequencies, and the building, along with everything in it, follows me into the mirror world. One moment it’s in the real world; the next, it’s gone, disappeared, and all of Lyons’s legacy with it. I turn around, still viewing both worlds, and smile at the astonished faces staring openmouthed at the large, empty foundation.
“Boo,” I whisper, and give them a push that sends them running.
Sending a building between worlds and then making a crowd of government employees collectively shit themselves is bound to draw attention. But without Lyons’s knowledge, they’re going to be grasping at straws until this becomes just another unexplained mystery. It’s a little much, I know, but I’m still a little bit Crazy with a capital
C.
Always have been.
While the crowd retreats from empty space, I turn back to the now-empty Neuro building. It’s a pock on this world and will probably be an unwelcome remembrance of the time humanity almost destroyed them. Lyons’s legacy shouldn’t be remembered in either dimension.
I place my hand on the oscillium surface and focus my mind beyond reality, beyond the Dread, to a place among places that even the Dread do not know. I’m not sure if Lyons ever thought beyond the mirror world and truly considered the big picture of string theory. The mirror isn’t a flat surface. It’s a prism, duplicating and bending frequencies of reality like a reflection in a fun house.
I slip between variations of frequencies, enjoying the show of flickering realities and the strange beings and civilizations that populate our world. I find one that’s devoid of life, barren and cold. I remove my hand from the oscillium surface as something like snow begins to collect on its surface. I wait and watch as the surface is quickly concealed, just another white peak among a thousand others, hidden forever from humanity—and whatever other intelligences might lurk just beyond the perceptions of man.
Allenby’s analogy to musical notes was accurate, but limited. A, B, and B flat are just the beginning, or perhaps the middle, of a range of frequencies as vast as the cosmos, all peacefully coexisting on our small shared planet. When I listen, really listen, to all the frequencies, it’s like music. There’s melody in the quantum strings. I imagine the barely avoided war between human and Dread frequencies as a sour note, one that could have sent shock waves through other frequencies. So now I’m on guard, listening and watching to frequencies only I can experience. And if someone—or something—disrupts the harmony again, I’ll have no fear of being Crazy.
JEREMY ROBINSON
is the author of bestselling thrillers, including
XOM-B, SecondWorld, The Last Hunter: Descent, Project Nemesis,
and the Jack Sigler thrillers, including
Threshold
and
Ragnarok.
His novels have been translated into ten languages. Born in the coastal town of Beverly, Massachusetts, Robinson grew up on a steady diet of seacoast exploration and science fiction, and began his creative career as a comic book illustrator and screenwriter. He now lives in New Hampshire with his wife and three children.
Visit Robinson online at
jeremyrobinsononline.com
and sign up for the newsletter for free content, contests, and updates on upcoming projects. Connect with him on Facebook at
facebook.com/sciencethriller
, and follow him on Twitter: @jrobinsonauthor. You can sign up for email updates
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ALSO BY
JEREMY ROBINSON
The Jack Sigler Thrillers
Prime
Ragnarok
Omega
Savage
The Chess Team Novellas
Callsign: Queen—Book 1
Callsign: Rook—Book 1
Callsign: Bishop—Book 1
Callsign: Knight—Book 1
Callsign: Deep Blue—Book 1
Callsign: King—Book 1
Callsign: King—Book 2—Underworld
Callsign: King—Book 3—Blackout
The Antarktos Saga
The Last Hunter: Descent
The Last Hunter: Pursuit
The Last Hunter: Ascent
The Last Hunter: Lament
The Last Hunter: Onslaught
Stand-Alone Novels
Kronos
Antarktos Rising
Beneath
Raising the Past
The Didymus Contingency
Project Nemesis
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