2
They spent an hour debating what they should do. Finally Dillon pointed out, “You know we’re going over there.”
Sean stayed where he was, kneeling on the lumpish sofa by the front window. Watching.
“It’s just a matter of time. You know it, I know it. Today, tomorrow, two midnights from now after we haven’t slept. We’re going.”
Sean’s forehead streaked the glass as he nodded. “I’m just getting used to the idea.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
Sean’s breath frosted the glass. “We discover the guy is a serial nutcase and we wind up buried in his cellar.”
“Okay, sure. But considering the alternative of another summer unemployed and trapped in Clomeville, that’s not so bad, right?”
Sean swiveled around. “You’ve got a point.”
They were midway up the neighbor’s front drive when Sean said, “Text somebody. Tell them to call us in twenty minutes. If we don’t answer, tell them to call 911 and say they’ve got to come to this house.”
“Good thinking.” Both of them got busy on their phones. When Dillon was done, he gave Sean a queasy look. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Too late.” And it was.
The guy was already standing there by his open front door. Watching them with those bottomless eyes.
Sean was almost through the living room when he realized what he was seeing.
The house smelled of fresh paint and disinfectant. And disuse. It had stood vacant for a couple of months, long enough for the air to grow stale. He and Dillon had played with the idea of sneaking inside and building their teen version of a man cave. But realtors tended to be very careful about setting the alarms.
Sean had never been inside this particular place. The former residents had been old and quiet and private. The development had enough residents of this type to make them a third class of citizen, really. The only sign they even existed was the car that went up the drive—the garage door already sliding open, the car rolling forward, the door sliding down, show over. At night, lights streamed around curtains. Lawn care was handled like the garbage. Sean didn’t know the neighbors had moved out until the For Sale sign appeared.
At least this guy didn’t have curtains. Maybe a passing jogger would hear their screams, glance inside, and call for backup.
The floors were nice, real wood laid down with round pegs. The planks were polished and as bare as the walls. No photographs anywhere. A couple of boxes, not much. But that wasn’t what halted Sean in mid-stride.
Dillon was already in the kitchen when he turned and said, “What is it?”
“Everything is new.”
Dillon came back to stand beside him. “So?”
“No. I mean, new. All this stuff, it’s still wearing the sale tags.”
The guy stepped up beside them. He stood maybe an inch or so taller than Sean. Both of the twins had gone through a serious growth surge when they hit thirteen, racing each other toward the six-foot mark. Which would have been great if they liked basketball. Which they didn’t. They both were into soccer, and the spurt just killed their game. The center of gravity they’d both relied on was completely thrown off. So they wound up not making the team when they shifted to high school. And the hole in their schedules and identities remained unfilled.
The guy said, “What’s your name?”
Sean turned and realized the guy meant him. “Sean.”
“Are you always the observant one?”
Dillon said, “Not always.”
The guy smiled at him. At least, Sean thought it was a smile. A flicker of tight lips. A small dimple to each cheek, there and gone. “And your name?”
“Dillon.”
“I’m Carver.”
Dillon couldn’t help it. “Carver, really?”
“Yes. Sean, you just won the right to go first.” The guy turned and limped into the kitchen.
Dillon remained standing beside Sean. Talking in the low murmur they had used since childhood. “Carver. Great. All the furniture in his old home was probably too blood-spattered to ship.”
Sean didn’t respond, since he had been thinking the exact same thing.
Carver said from the kitchen, “Let’s get started, gentlemen.”
As spooked as he seemed, Dillon still managed a quip as he entered the kitchen. “What, no tea?”
“Later.” Carver indicated the chairs around the kitchen table. Also new. “Be seated, gentlemen.”
The kitchen was showroom bare. Not even a towel by the sink. The cabinets looked as though they had never been opened. The chairs scraped overloud as they sat down.
Carver inspected them both, then said, “I suppose you’re wondering what this is about.”
Sean licked his lips. Eyed the rear door. The empty back garden. Freedom. His brother didn’t speak.
“I am here,” Carver said, “because you contacted us.”
Okay. That was new.
Sean asked, “Us?”
He waved his stump. “Set that aside for a moment. This will be hard enough for you to fathom without trying to explain who sent me.”
Dillon opened his mouth but did not speak. Sean liked that—how this guy had managed to shut his brother up.
“Normally we do not connect with anyone as old as you two. Less than half your current age is the norm. At seven or eight years, as you count them, the individual is still open to possibilities. By your age, generally the perspective on life is firmly established. When adults tap into the force, they seek to manipulate it, fashion it into something they can apply to their concept of reality. But in your case there are two extenuating circumstances.”
Carver dragged back a chair of his own. “First, you are twins. You share the same conceptual structure. To be contacted by both twins is extremely rare. The last time this occurred, we were gifted with two of our most potent adepts.”
Dillon was watching his brother now. The stare open and unblinking. Sean totally agreed. He told Carver, “You said two things.”
“I did, yes. The second is, this world has only once before produced a recruit. But that individual changed the course of history. So we have decided to give you this opportunity. See if you are still trainable.”
Sean said slowly, “I’m hearing the words. I’m not understanding a thing.”
“Anything further will just open up more questions. That is another reason why we identify all candidates when they are much younger. They do not need to have everything explained. They are too excited about simply being given the chance.”
Dillon was still sitting there playing the mummy. So Sean asked, “Chance at what?”
“To grasp for what they have already sensed is possible. That you were made for something better. That you can rise beyond. That you can accomplish something greater than the life your current existence proposes. You have sensed it ever since you drew the first component of the station beyond your reach. You already know there are new realms to explore.”
Sean felt himself blown back in his chair by hearing their dream spoken aloud by a guy he had never met.
Dillon asked, “You’ve been watching us?”
“Not long enough.” Carver tapped his good hand on the wooden tabletop. “Before we begin, you must remove all electronic devices. Your watches, phones, everything. How long did you tell your friends before they will call the emergency services?”
Sean and Dillon said it together. “Spooky.”
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Tell them everything is safe here, you are all right, and they should stand down.”
Sean liked how he kept his gaze as steady as his voice. “Is it? Safe, I mean.”
The dimples came and went a second time. The only sign of weakness this guy had shown. “Your safety is assured. As to whether everything is all right, well, that depends upon how you perform.”
Sean rose to his feet. “Give us a second.”
They retreated to the living room, where Dillon said, “What should we do?”
“I think . . . What do you think he means, ‘perform’?”
Dillon shrugged. “Maybe how loud we scream?”
Sean decided. “Okay. Enough.” He texted his friend. Waited while Dillon did the same. A shared breath. Then they returned to the kitchen and handed over their phones.
Somehow Carver made a solemn act of accepting the devices. “Gentlemen, you just passed the first test.”
“Are there many?” Dillon asked. “Tests, I mean.”
“Only if you keep passing.”
“And if we don’t?”
“All this never happened,” Carver replied. “And I was never here.”
Dillon dragged out the word, “Okay.”
“Dillon, sit down. Sean, come here.” He moved to the bare, whitewashed wall beside the rear door. “What you see here before you is not a wall. It is in fact a portal. I want you to walk through it.”
Sean reached forward and touched. The paint still felt slightly tacky. “Seems real enough to me.”
“To your physical senses, yes. This is what I meant by preferring to work with younger children. Their ability to sense beyond the physical is much keener. Can you perceive anything other than what you are viewing with your eyes?”
Sean found himself fighting the words around a racing heart. “Only that this is seriously weird.”
Carver’s frown was as quick as his smile. “Take a pace back. Now observe.”
Their new neighbor then stepped forward. But he did not strike the wall. Instead, he simply vanished.
Carver reappeared. “Now I want you to do this. Extend your senses beyond what your mind is telling you are the physical limitations. And follow your extended awareness.”
“Through the wall,” Sean said.
“No, no, no. The wall is not there. Not if you act properly and use what you already know exists within you.” Carver looked from one twin to the other. “The image of the transport complex you both have spent years wishing you could visit, these dreams you both have shared for so long that define the hunger inside you—these are real. What is more, this signifies your higher potential. We meet together today in order to determine whether the seed planted in each human at birth has taken root. Despite everything about the physical universe that keeps you trapped. Despite all the reasons you have to lose hope and confine yourself to the mundane. We need to answer this ultimate question. Are you ready and able to move beyond?”
Sean was following him now. Even though his mind kept trying to shut down. Even so, he said, “What if I can’t?”
Carver leaned in close enough for the bottomless gaze to almost swallow him. He growled, “You will not fail. You are going to walk through that portal and enter into a new and higher level of existence.” He then nudged the small of Sean’s back. Instantly Sean felt like a second belt had been fastened to his waist. “You are now linked. When you pass through, remain as you are. I will draw you back.”
“When I pass through,” Sean repeated.
“Correct. Now go.”