Shift (21 page)

She forced a smile.

"Watch out for the blood pressure monitor," said Nick. "It's activated on a timer. When mine first came on I thought some higher dimensional bogeyman had grabbed my arm."

She tried to maintain her smile but it was morphing into a grimace. She closed her eyes and waited. She heard Nick climbing onto his bed; the tip-tap of fingers on a keypad; the click of cables being connected. And then silence.

"Okay. Let's go."

She almost hit the ceiling in the rush to be free. This wasn't a time to be tentative, this was a time to get the job done and over with quick. Like swallowing something unpleasant.

Nick's voice boomed into her head. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They flew out of the window; Nick taking the lead, Louise following. One slow test lap of the rectory and then they were away, two clouds of thought accelerating across the countryside: cresting trees, houses, dipping into fields, flying low and fast then climbing, then banking as the ley line swept in from the horizon. They accelerated again, gliding along golden strands, weaving past forgotten monuments to the dead, ancient hill forts, burial mounds, temples and churches. Then slowing as Oxford approached, looking for the turn off, finding it, hitching lift after lift, clawing their way through the traffic until . . .

Upper Heywood: its warren of low flat-roofed buildings sprawled out ahead of them.

"When we get to Pendennis's cell I want you to follow me in," said Nick. "But think silent. I don't want Peter to hear anyone's voice but mine."

"Okay," said Louise.

"Then as soon as I contact John step in and help. Think your voice inside his head. Let him know who you are, keep him calm then ask him a question that only the real John would know. If he passes the test, start persuading like mad. We want him out and away from Pendennis as quick as possible."

"What if he doesn't pass the test?"

"I'll take Peter deeper. Into a coma if necessary."

They drifted through the roof into Reception, passing through the concrete and the timber and the ceiling tiles. They found the main corridor. Everything white: the walls, the floor, the ceiling; even the overalls of the cleaner pushing a mop over the floor. Louise followed Nick, the scenery unchanging, every entrance to every bay looking identical. They turned at the far end, passed into another corridor then stopped.

"This is it," said Nick. "Think yourself silent and invisible."

Up went her walls. She imagined herself a soundproof fortress, with twelve-foot thick walls of padded stone.

Nick floated further down the corridor then slipped though a wall. Louise followed.

Pendennis was inside, a red shape lying on a bed. He looked asleep, his eyes tight-closed.

"So tired," whispered Nick, elongating his voice. "So-o . . . ti-red."

Louise hovered by the side of the bed, trying to keep hold of her thoughts. She could hear Nick. Would she be able to hear Pendennis?

"Sleep," whispered Nick. "You feel so tired you could sleep for a week."

Silence. Was Pendennis already asleep? Could you hypnotise someone who was already asleep?

"Sle-ep," repeated Nick. "Every part of you is asleep except the tiny part of you that can hear me. Can you hear me, Peter?"

Louise waited, the silence excruciating. Her mind alive with concerns that she was terrified to express in case Pendennis overheard them.

"Yes," said a very small voice. "I hear you."

"Good," said Nick. "You're drifting deeper, drifting into a sleep so deep, so warm, so safe that you don't ever want to leave. Can you feel how peaceful it is, Peter?"

"Yes," came the reply, sibilant and sleepy.

"You feel it like a heavy blanket impossible to move."

"Yes."

"Is John there?" Nick asked.

Silence.

He asked again. "John?"

Behind her walls, Louise began to panic. What if John had been absorbed? Or killed? Or was too frightened to answer?

"I need to talk to John Bruce," said Nick.

If anything, the silence deepened. Louise couldn't take it any more. She opened a window in her walls and sent a name flying through the ether towards the body on the bed.

"John," she whispered, then louder. "John, it's Louise, I've come for you."

No answer. She drifted closer, tore down her walls, imagined her voice inside Peter's head, planted it there, gave it power, life, breath. "John!"

"Louise?"

His voice exploded inside her head. His voice. John's. Unmistakable.

"Yes, John," she said. "It's me. I've come to get you out."

"Where are you, Lou? I can't see you." He sounded nervous and worried.

"I'm . . . I'm outside in the corridor," said Louise, thinking quickly. "I have a friend with me. We've come to help you. Do you . . . do you remember the name of my best friend at school?"

Up went her walls. Her best friend's name hidden away, pushed to the deepest dungeon of her memory. Come on, John! Remember. Let it really be you.

"Is she with you?" asked John, confused.

"No, she's er . . . it's another test, John. I want to make sure your memory hasn't been impaired. We're worried about you."

Louise took a deep virtual breath. Please, John, just answer and get this over with.

"Suzie?" said John. "Suzie Onslow?"

Yes!

"Okay, John," she said. "I want you to close your eyes and relax. My friend's going to talk to you. He knows how to get you out. Do what he says and you'll be free. We'll take you home."

"Can you do that, Lou? Can you really take me home?"

"Yes, John. We can."

"Are your eyes closed yet, John?" asked Nick.

"Who are you?" A hint of panic. "Where's Louise?"

"Calm down, John," said Louise. "He's a friend. Listen to him."

"Okay, Lou, if you say so."

"I'm taking you back to the Pegasus," said Nick. "You're weightless again. Do you remember how that feels?"

"Yes."

"You feel totally relaxed. Your body has no weight, no substance. You're floating without a care in the world, drifting, drifting into a deep, deep sleep."

Silence. Was the lack of response good or bad?

Nick continued. "You're floating weightless inside the Pegasus. Your body horizontal, your arms and legs by your side. Now, as I count, I'm going to gradually turn on the artificial gravity. Do you understand?"

"Yes," came the sleepy reply.

"As I do so your body is gradually going to feel heavier. One, your arms and legs start to droop. Two, you feel your body start—ever so slowly—to drift down towards the floor. But not your mind. You feel light-headed. Your body's getting heavier but your mind is still weightless. You like the feeling. You want to let go and let your mind fly free. Three, you feel a breath of wind between your mind and your body. You feel your mind start to lift as your body sags. Slowly at first. Rising gently on that breath of wind. Can you feel it?"

"Yes."

"Feel your mind lift higher, John. Feel your body sink away."

"Something's wrong," said John, his voice sounding frightened. "Turbulence. There's something wrong with the Pegasus. Lou!"

"Calm . . ."

"Lou, help me! I'm being ripped apart. Louise!"

Shit! Had Nick tapped into a memory? They both spoke at once—Nick and Louise—both trying to calm John down, both failing.

John screamed. The sound reverberating inside Louise. So loud, so painful.

"John, listen to my voice." Nick urged over the screams. "You are not in the Pegasus. I'm taking you back to a time before the launch."

"There's no time. The ship's breaking up! Everything's blurred. Louise, help me!"

"I'm here, John. How can I help?"

"I need to get to the escape hatch. But something's pinned me against the far wall. If you can help get it off me, I know I can get out."

"I help you, John. I'm pulling you clear."

"You're not! I can't see you! Why don't you come to me?"

"I am with you, John. You can hear me."

"But you're too far away. I need your strength for one last push and I'll be free!"

"You don't need it, John. A surge of energy runs through you. You have the strength. Can you feel it?"

"Yes, I'm . . . I'm free of the back wall. I've reached the escape hatch. It's opening. My hands are pushing through. I'm reaching out to you, Louise. Take my hands—your friend too—if you pull me through I'll be free."

Louise concentrated hard; thinking, hoping, praying that this would be it. One more encouragement and John would be free. A new lampshade-sized cloud of thought hovering above Pendennis's bed.

But something else happened instead.

Someone started to laugh and everything went black.

Nick awoke. Someone was shining a light in his eyes. He blinked and turned his head away. Then saw Louise. She was lying in the next bed, a drip attached to her arm. But not the one he'd attached. This one was hanging from a stand high above the bed. And the room was different. It wasn't his apartment. It looked . . . it looked like a hospital? White walls, white ceiling.

"Do you know where you are?" asked a male voice.

Nick swung his head around. A doctor stood over him—a man, mid-thirties, no one he recognised—he was holding a pencil light in his hand.

"Where is this?" asked Nick, trying to sit up. The doctor pushed him back down on the bed. Nick lacked the strength to resist.

"It's best you take it easy for a while," said the doctor. "You've been out for some time."

"Where is this?" Nick repeated, his eyes darting around the room. It looked like a hospital room—two beds but . . . where were the windows?

"You're in hospital," said the doctor. "Do you remember why you're here?"

"No."

The doctor clicked his tongue and grimaced. Obviously, not the right answer, thought Nick, his head feeling inordinately dense. Had he been drugged? The last thing he remembered was trying to free John.

"Your LSUs malfunctioned," said the doctor. "Sending you both into a coma."

"Louise?" Panic. He threw his head round to look at her. "Is she still in a coma?"

"She's come out of it. She's resting now. The pair of you have been very lucky. LSUs are not for amateurs."

"Where exactly are we?" asked Nick.

"A hospital," repeated the doctor, peering at a display panel on the wall behind Nick's bed and then tapping buttons on his handheld.

"Which hospital?"

"This one," said the doctor. "And I apologise for sounding obtuse but I shouldn't be talking to you as it is."

"Why not?"

The doctor eyed him suspiciously. "I think you know."

Nick wanted to scream, "I don't," and pursue the matter but held back. It was a slim chance but what if the hospital staff didn't know who he was? Better to play dumb, thank everyone for their help, and get discharged as soon as possible.

But what had happened? Could a sudden failure in an LSU drag them out of Upper Heywood and back to their bodies? A Near Death Effect. Survivors talked of something similar, didn't they? The sudden realisation that it wasn't their time, that they were going to live, then the feeling of being dragged back and reconnected with their bodies. But . . .

But he hadn't felt anything like that. One second he was at Upper Heywood the next he was waking up here.

And what had gone wrong with the LSU? He'd used them before without a problem. Okay, he'd never separated before but he'd been hooked up to the units for hours at a time. Could someone have sabotaged his unit? John Bruce? Someone working for John Bruce?

In which case why was he still alive? Had Adam found them in time, recognised the problem and called for an ambulance?

Questions. His mind was full of them. Was his identity known? The doctor was acting as though it might be. I shouldn't be talking to you as it is. But if he was under arrest wouldn't a police guard be in the room?

He closed his eyes. He'd separate. It was the obvious thing to do. He'd find out where they were, see if anyone was outside the door guarding the room. Maybe even fly back to the apartment and see if anyone had turned the place over.

He relaxed, settled back, willed his mind free and . . . nothing happened. He tried again. And again. Still nothing.

"What medication have you put me on?" he asked, sitting up, trying to find a reason for his failure to separate.

"He's gone," said Louise. "And I think we should go too."

Nick agreed and began disconnecting his drip. "How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"Long enough. What the hell happened back . . ."

Her question was cut short by the door suddenly opening. Anders Ziegler stood in the doorway. He looked horrified. "What are you doing?" he hissed, running into the room. "Are you mad? You'll set off the alarms."

Nick and Louise froze. "What alarms?"

Ziegler ran back to the door and eased it closed. "The monitors are linked to the nurse's station. If you disconnect your heart monitors you'll have a crash team here in ten seconds flat."

Nick felt stupid. And then curious. "Why would that worry you? And what are you doing here?"

"I haven't got much time," said Ziegler. He looked nervous and his face was drawn. "I had to call in a lot of favours to get you moved here as it was."

"Where's here?" asked Louise. "Upper Heywood?"

Ziegler nodded. "It was the only place I could think of. It has secure hospital status."

"Why would we need to be in a secure hospital?" asked Nick, fearing he already knew the answer. The Oxford murders. Karen Hawkins and Vince Culley.

"You really don't know?" asked Ziegler. He looked surprised. And still very nervous. He kept glancing towards the door as though he expected someone to burst in at any moment.

"Is it because of Karen?" asked Louise. "We were miles away at the time. We couldn't . . ."

Ziegler cut her off. "Karen's the least of your problems. Which is why we've got to get our story straight. You say nothing about me or coming here to visit Peter. Understand?"

Nick was confused. "What's that got to do . . ."

Ziegler glared at him. "This is not a game," he hissed. "Or a debate. You keep me and Upper Heywood out of everything and I'll do what I can to help."