Rogue (14 page)

He felt the thing relax and the color of its “brain” reverted to dark green. As Will wedged open the connection between them, emotional readings began to slowly come across to him: agitation, spikes of hatred, and a reserve of savage anger, held in check by fear.

He paused, let the thing settle down again, then carefully probed deeper—he realized this process was more than a little similar to what he and Elise could do together and what Lyle had tried to do to him a few times. Project his mind into that of another being, but not invasively, with no intent to hurt or punish the thing, just apply a kind of gentle persuasion and gain access to its innermost thoughts—

Then he felt some last line of resistance give way, and suddenly, somehow, he knew he was inside. The effect was jarring, jumbling, disturbing, an assault on his senses. He was inside an alien consciousness, no part of it familiar or reassuring, and he couldn't find anything to hold on to that helped him understand its architecture or how it worked. Swirling colors and indistinct shapes swarmed all around, so he decided to let go of trying to defend against the experience and flow with it, wherever it led him.

He suddenly felt as if he were tumbling along a swiftly moving underground stream, deep in the dark, and the many shapes appeared now as glints of light strobing on every side of him as he rushed headlong and down. Every instinct in him registered danger, urging escape and retreat. Panic rose in his gut but he wrestled it back down with a single commanding thought:

They're taking me somewhere I need to go.

That helped him cut through the fear. The shapes were acquiring more form and dimension as he traveled, and he felt that speeding or falling sensation gradually begin to abate. The shapes and lights started to linger, acquire more definition, and he realized he was seeing pictures that he might soon begin to recognize.

This is how they think. Not in words but in images.

Then he stopped. Completely still. Cold and cool. He felt, and somehow knew, that he was a long way underground. As he adjusted to the dark, a lambent glow rose from clumps of moss around the room, but he still sensed more than saw a vast root system all around him—huge, gnarled, twisting tubes of organic matter shooting up, down, and out in every direction.

It occurred to him that perhaps he had just “traveled” here along, through, or by way of one of these root tubes. And that he might, if he so chose, be able to similarly move out along any of the countless other tubes that now surrounded him.

And follow them to wherever they might lead, which he sensed could take him to just about anywhere in the Never-Was. He knew there was a word for this, and it floated up in his head…

Omnipresence.

Then other images, springing from some defined outside source, began to flow into the stream of his consciousness, and as he filtered them into a more manageable context, he found that they added up to thoughts:

This is “home.” This is “who we are.” They are “all one.” These life-forms share a collective “mind.”

So Ajay was right. At this most fundamental level, they were all connected. And he had apparently made contact with its source or center; he imagined that Jericho might call it their “great spirit.” Will took a deep breath and decided to lean in a little more firmly, project himself farther, until he reached the point where “they” turned into—

We. We are One.

He perceived this not through words but by means of crystal-clear pictures that conveyed its ideas. Almost like hieroglyphs. Many he didn't know and couldn't at first penetrate their meanings. But he found that the few he could translate came to him without effort, and slowly others began to follow, until a series of more complete thoughts fell into place.

We fear Them. The Ones Above. They are the Makers. The Ones who Came After. After the Beginning.

They Changed Us.

Will decided to ask a question in return, constructing it with the same symbols:
Who are They?

The images that came back to him depicted the beings they called “Makers” directly—tall, forbidding shapes, monolithic, cloaked in shrouds of darkness, their faces hidden deep in shadow. Groups of them, towering over them with sinister intent. Fear rushed up inside Will.

A wealth of emotion flowed into him—the plants'
feelings
felt less alien to him than anything else about them—and Will realized that he was now receiving the story of their entire existence.

He witnessed their process of creation itself, as these beings moved from an idea of life, a blueprint realized through some mystical means of construction into primitive physical forms that slowly, ever so slowly began to evolve, bursting out of the ground, in light and life and the awakening of their senses, then a long period, through endless cycles of life and death—physically dying but never extinguished, living on through the strength of a kind of enduring spiritual blueprint—a long and peaceful existence.

Then, out of nowhere, a wrenching, violent disruption—he realized the things were being torn away from their roots. Transported into some sterile, completely foreign, largely metallic environment. Deprived of nutrition, water, and natural light, dissected, ripped apart and stitched back together in some kind of hideous, heartless experimentation.

Will felt as if a wave of fire broke over him, with a blast of searing pain that nearly doubled him over. There were no borders between him and these creatures any longer. He felt what they felt, knew what they knew:

They Changed Us.

Something
else
was part of their nature now. Some distinct, unwanted
other.
In that anguish, he felt a strange and powerful pang of kinship to these creatures.

I know how you feel, brother.

And somewhere during that exchange, he also received the clear impression he could open a deeper dialogue with them.

So he asked, this time using pictures of his own, like a one-year-old struggling with the elementary building blocks of language:

Where are Makers?

Immediately the answer came back to him in multiple visions of the Never-Was. A flood of them, streaming in so fast that he struggled to process them coherently.

He saw some kind of vast fortress or city—the word
citadel
came to mind—built on an epic scale, dug into rolling hills in front of a majestic, snowcapped range of craggy mountains. Not remotely like anything they'd seen in the zone so far.

So far, so good. So he asked another.

Where is…
and then he thought of Coach Jericho, summoning up an image for him.

…the Bear Man?

He could almost feel the spirits' collective “mind” calculating—sending out the question as tendrils of thought along its serpentine underground network of roots, moving faster than electricity—and an answer came just as quickly back to him, as an image.

The Bear Man, in a very specific sort of location. And with it, the reassuring idea that it wasn't far away from where they were now.

But not exactly safe from harm. Far from it.

Then one last question:

Where is…
and he showed them the best image he could think of for Dave.

The Man with Wings.

Again, a pause as the question flowed outward. The image that came back was considerably less encouraging than the last.

The Citadel.

The Man with Wings was inside that citadel.

Will uncoupled his connection to the plant spirit “mind,” which had the effect of abruptly letting go of his end of a long, taut rope. He felt himself falling backward, a long, long way, and then he blacked out.

WILL'S RULES FOR LIVING #8:

DO THE RIGHT THING, ALWAYS, AND RISK THE CONSEQUENCES.

He must have been out for only a moment. Elise's face, looking down at him with concern, was the first sight that greeted him. She saw the experience in his eyes; then he knew that she sensed it in his mind as she caught a taste of where he'd been, a fleeting aura of that strangeness from his communion with that foreign consciousness.

Wow. Ajay was right.

So were you,
he replied.
They think, they feel, they share a single mind.

Remind you of anyone?

Reminds me of a few people I know.

“So, dude, what did Little Susie Sunflower have to share?” asked Nick. “Complaints about the aphids, or how hard it is to find a good dental plan?”

“No,” said Will, sitting up, waiting for his head to clear. “But it did tell me where we can find Coach Jericho.”

“What, for real?”

“One hundred percent.”

“So we were right!” Ajay clapped his hands together and gave Elise a high five. “Collective mind, I knew it!”

For the moment, Will decided not to tell them about where it had told him they could find Dave. Before he mentioned a word to the others, he wanted to discuss that bad news with Coach Jericho.

But first they had to find
him,
and based on what he'd just seen, they had to do it
fast.

“Come on, guys, we need to hurry,” said Will, rising and shouldering his pack.

Elise and Ajay picked up their packs and trudged after him toward the woods. Nick lingered.

“But what about my big bouquet?” asked Nick.

“Unless you want to be solely responsible for them from here on out, young man, you're going to have to let them go,” said Elise.

“It's not really practical right now, Nick,” said Will.

“Catch and release, man,” said Ajay. “You can always pick another bunch later. Maybe we'll happen across a gigantic vase.”

“It's the only humane thing to do anyway, right?” asked Elise, seeing that Nick looked distressed.

“Except most trout don't try to jump back out of the stream into the boat and bite your leg off,” said Ajay.

Will looked at the still-cowering flowers. It was hard not to see them completely differently now—as lost and pitiable creatures, their natures twisted into perversions of their original innocent state through no fault, choice, or action of their own.

Like us in more ways than one.

Nick walked over to his huddled, shuddering herd. He actually looked kind of sad. And so, in a strange way, did the flowers, which had seemed so feral and ferocious minutes earlier. They dipped their heads submissively and made no aggressive moves toward Nick as he untied the knot on his rope—

Seeing their behavior and sensing what they seemed to be giving off emotionally, Will recognized with a shock:
These things understand—collectively—what was communicated between us.

As if they'd heard that thought, the flowers turned toward Will. The colors of their petals subtly changed—similar to the way he'd seen the “brain” phase change between colors—to softer shades and from that and the gentle way the petals undulated he felt something else unspoken pass between them that made him realize something even more startling.

They learned as much about me as I did about them.

Will was reminded that he hadn't yet shared or found the right moment to tell his friends about the final bombshell Franklin had dropped on him: that the source of their own genetic mutations hadn't been culled from any known form of earthly life. The foreign DNA they were carrying around had come from
them.
The Others, the Makers, or whatever they called themselves.

That's why I was able to connect with the plants. They have the Others in them, too.

As he gathered up his rope, even Nick seemed to pick up on the change in his charges. Instead of fleeing from him the moment they were free, the flowers stood right where they were, together, in a group, almost as if they were waiting for him to give his permission.

“You dudes take care of yourselves now, okay?” said Nick.

One of them—Will thought it was the same one that he'd zeroed in on, but he couldn't be sure—tentatively reached out one of its armlike branches toward Nick. Nick, initially puzzled, then realized what it was doing. He reached out and bumped the branch with his fist.

“No hard feelings,” said Nick.

The flowers appeared to slightly nod their heads; then they turned as one and with a pace that suggested a surprising dignity not seen before, moved out of the clearing and back into the forest.

Nick turned back to his friends, gathered up his pack, and joined them as they trotted off in the opposite direction. Elise glanced over at Nick a few times.

“You okay, cowboy?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he said. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What changed?” she asked.

“I don't know. I know it sounds screwy, but I sort of liked them,” said Nick, glancing back toward the clearing as they moved into the woods.

“I know what you mean,” said Will.

“And I feel kinda bad now that I had to Benihana so many of 'em back there.”

“They were threatening to devour you,” said Ajay.

“You know more now than you did then,” said Elise, putting a hand on Nick's shoulder. “Don't be so hard on yourself.”

“Don't get me wrong,” said Nick. “It's not like I've gone vegetarian all of a sudden or anything.”

“I'm sorry, were you trying to eat
them
?” asked Ajay, confused.

“The other way around.”

“Then I don't understand the reference—”

“What I mean is, it's not like I just turned into some sandals-and-socks-wearing tree hugger or anything. I mean, I'd kill for a good burger right about now.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Elise.

“You do realize of course that, biologically speaking, flowers are much more closely related to vegetables than mammals,” said Ajay.

“Yeah, well, tell their teeth about that,” said Nick.

“I have given that some thought, actually,” said Ajay. “Perhaps they were crossbred with some sort of savage omnivorous baboon—”

“You're an omnivorous baboon—”

“Guys, right now we need to focus on where we're going,” said Will firmly, pointing ahead. “Instead of where we've been.”

“How do you know where we're going?” asked Nick.

“Intuition,” said Will.

Ahead of them, where a clear, well-trodden path presented itself through the woods, the landscape was transitioning yet again. Small patches of wispy fog hugged the ground, which grew increasingly damp and yielding. Above and around them Will noticed more and more vines, clusters of strangely glowing moss, and rooted plants sprouting heavy fragrant flowers. The same pale light from above grew dimmer as it filtered through the increasingly overgrown canopy. For the first time they heard strange yowls and cries echoing in the distance.

“Animal life,” said Ajay.

“Birds maybe,” said Elise.

“Let's hope it's birds,” said Nick.

“As opposed to what?” asked Ajay.

“Exactly,” said Nick.

“Just curious: Why would you imagine that the birds here would be any less unpleasant and terrifying than the rest of what we've run into?”

“Birds are nice,” said Nick.

“We're heading into a swamp,” said Will, surveying the horizon. “There could be any number of…different kinds of…things in here.”

The air felt thicker with menace the farther they ventured in, and the path grew more narrow, spongy, and soggy, moisture sucking at their shoes with every step.

“And so your best instinct is to, what, keep proceeding into said swamp?” asked Ajay, wringing his hands.

“The plants said this is where we'd find Jericho,” said Will.

“Ah, you neglected to share that small nugget with us,” said Ajay. “By all means, if the
plants
—that not so recently tried to eat us—told you that this is where we'd find him, what could possibly go wrong?”

“Give it a rest, Ajay,” said Elise.

Ajay gazed around uneasily at the deepening gloom of the swamp. “You know I've always felt that, attacks from animals—or plants, for that matter—notwithstanding, of all the untold terrors waiting to befall one in this, or any other world, quicksand is criminally underrated.”

“Get a load of this,” said Nick, looking at something a few feet off to the left of the path. “I think it's a wall.”

He was pointing at the edge of a straight line of rocks that paralleled their path and gradually rose up out of the murky water. About two inches wide, the line of stones, aged and covered with slime, appeared to be artfully carved and mortared together. The wall continued to slowly rise out of the water and run alongside the path for as far as they could see until it disappeared in the gathering mist.

“There's one over here, too,” said Elise.

Will turned and looked where she was pointing, to an identical wall running in the same direction on the right side of the path.

“So apparently this wasn't always a swamp,” said Ajay, peering ahead into the mist. “Or someone's gone to an awful lot of trouble to make it appear that way.”

“What do you see?” asked Elise.

“Nick,” said Ajay, snapping his fingers. “Flare gun.”

Within moments, Nick had the gun pulled and loaded. He knelt, aimed, and fired up a flare on a low arcing trajectory along the path, trying to stay below the crowded canopy overhead. A bright globe of white light blossomed about a hundred yards on, burning through the spotty fog, directly over a startling reveal.

A magnificent ruin rose out of the swamp. The walls on either side of their path jointed into a complex spread of higher stone walls laid out in a dense, geometrically precise pattern that they all could now see.

The building appeared to cover about the size of a football field. The outer walls marched up together, in symmetrical rows of increasing height, then culminated in a solid square tower rising from its center. Brutish vines snaked up and around the rocks almost everywhere, and in many places appeared to have grown right into the walls. In a few places, tall trees had erupted, slow-motion explosions bursting out of the ancient masonry.

“That's where Coach Jericho is,” said Will.

“Now you tell us,” said Elise.

“Inside?” asked Nick.

“That's right,” said Will.

“By any chance, did our vegetative acquaintances download a set of GPS coordinates for you?” asked Ajay. “Pinpointing Coach Jericho's exact location?”

“In the middle,” said Will, pointing at the tower. “Down below, in some kind of basement.”

A chorus of the same howls and barks they'd heard earlier erupted again. Much closer this time, from straight ahead of them. Inside the structure.

“Sounds like he's not alone,” said Elise.

“Yo, I've seen Coach get his full grizzly on, okay,” said Nick. “It's the animals, or whatever else is in there, I'd be worried about.”

“That's not the problem,” said Will. “From what the plants showed me, Coach was trapped in some kind of pit. With thick bars across the top.”

“What?!” said Nick.

“And it was slowly filling with water.”

“Why didn't you tell us that before?” asked Elise.

“I told you we should hurry,” said Will.

“If my earlier observations were accurate,” said Ajay, “a prolonged watery immersion should not present any great difficulty for Coach Jericho.”

“How so?”

“Based on what I witnessed this morning, I believe he may be able to shape-shift into some sort of aquatic form as well.”

“That's no reason not to hurry now,” said Elise, and she started running up the path toward the building.