3
PROBABILITIES, POSSIBILITIES, AND THEORIES
DARWIN PULLED HIMSELF away from the window and tried the door. It was definitely locked. He banged and kicked at it, rattling the door in its frame. “Let me out! Let me see my dad.”
For a while, the two men who carried him up and then stood guard just outside his door ignored him, until one of them finally broke, kicking the door so hard it almost buckled. Darwin jerked away and tripped over his own feet, landing on his back and sending more pain through his head.
He picked himself off the floor and moved to a second door in the side wall. This one opened easily and he walked into an executive washroom. No water came from the taps when he tried, and the toilet bowl was empty and dry. He left, leaving the door open behind him, and retreated to the window, lowering himself into a fancy mesh-backed chair, the kind all the high-tech firms brag about having, and swiveling to look out the floor-to-ceiling window. The sun had started to move behind the Quantum Labs building, casting a shadow across the parking lot.
The strangeness of what had happened sank its claws deeper in him. What he saw told him he was still in the Quantum Labs building, still at his dad’s work, but everything else told him the opposite. It felt and smelled different. The darkened hallway lights. The empty office. The lack of any movement on what should have been a busy expressway. By the shadows outside, it was past lunchtime, and he was already mentally and physically exhausted.
The moment he let the exhaustion take control he started to vibrate again. He closed his eyes, trying to control his ragged breathing. There was no one in the lab that he recognized, and he knew almost everyone working on the QPS project. Where was his dad? Darwin couldn’t see him leaving his son behind, no matter how desperate the work was. He wouldn’t leave his project either, especially to strangers. Not one that he had worked so hard on, that had done everything this one had. But . . . when he had yelled about the broken window, there had been no response. What if his dad hadn’t seen anything? What if all of what was happening was in his head?
He took his phone out of his pocket with an unsteady hand. There was only one contact in it, his dad’s. He unlocked the device and dialed the number. Nothing happened. He tried again before realizing there was no signal. What the hell was going on? There was always service here.
The pain in his head had turned into a dull throb, culminating in the bump. He tried the door again, quietly turning the knob, hoping the two men outside wouldn’t hear what he was doing. It was still locked. He slid down the wall beside the door and plugged his ear buds into his ears, old habits returning as if they had never left. They hadn’t, really. As the sounds of B.B. King slid into his consciousness, he could feel some of the tension ease from his body. Still, underneath the music, the faint buzzing kept on. He kept going over what was happening, trying to boil it down to the facts he knew, that he could verify. The only ones he had were what had happened to him directly.
As soon as Garth had started the QPS, his headache kicked in and the buzzing noise had started. That tied the episodes he’d been having directly back to the QPS. But how was that possible? And what did the episodes mean? The last one, the one in the lab, had been different than the rest. Different enough for his dad to take off somewhere and leave him behind?
None of it made sense. He was going crazy trying to figure out what the hell was going on. If he wasn’t there already.
By the time his music stopped, he still hadn’t figured anything out. It was as if the world had turned upside down and inside out, and he was the only one that had made it through.
He checked for a signal again before turning the phone off. In the distance, he could see a cell tower. Close enough that he should have gotten at least three bars, if not more. He turned his phone on again to double check. Maybe it just needed a reset. It didn’t work, still showing no service. None of this was making sense.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the shadows creep across the boulevard and past the trees. Eventually, he got up and moved to the mesh-backed chair, his back stiff from leaning against the wall for so long. Every time he tried to figure out what was going on, he fell deeper and deeper into a funk. He did notice what it was about the view outside that bothered him so much, more than the lack of cars or people. Everything looked wild. Untamed. The once manicured lawn surrounding the parking lot was tall and uncut. It had encroached into the parking space, leaving an uneven edge of dirt and weeds on the concrete. In places, he could still see the sharp edge of the curb through the green. Even the expressway wasn’t free of the encroachment. Trees and grasses had taken hold in the small cracks, clinging to life in the harsh environment, and grown outward from there. And he was pretty sure there were more trees growing out of the roof of the office building across the gray expanse. Even some of its windows looked broken and empty. It was as if everyone had given up.
The sound of the lock sliding open behind him wrenched him from his near catatonic state. He heard the door open and shut softly. When the lock thunked home again, he turned in his chair and silently watched a man walk toward him.
“Hi, Darwin. I’m here to look at the cut on your head.”
The man’s voice was deep and strong, the complete opposite to the tall and skinny frame it came from. He wasn’t carrying anything. Darwin wasn’t sure what he expected, but at the very least one of those white first aid boxes you could find in any office building.
He reached for his head, stopping his hand before it touched. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten about it already. He forced himself to fight his natural desire to stay silent around people he didn’t know. “What am I doing here? Where’s my dad?”
The man sat on the edge of the desk, looking at Darwin with a grin on his face. “I’d say you’re sitting in a chair and staring out the window. I can’t be sure that’s what you were doing before I came in here, but it fits the probability curve.”
Darwin felt his blood start to boil. Who the hell did this guy think he was, making jokes when he had been locked in this room most of the day?
“That’s not what I mean.” His voice rose and he took a deep breath to get it back under control. “Why am I here? Why is the door locked? Who are you people? Where is my dad? What’s going on outside? Where is everyone?” As the questions tumbled from his mouth, his voice rose again. “I want answers.”
The smile left the man’s face. “Whoa, one question at a time. I’m not allowed to answer everything, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Not allowed?”
“Rebecca hasn’t given permission.”
“Who’s Rebecca?”
“Another question? A wise man once told me you learn more by listening than by talking.”
Darwin had his mouth open to ask another question, and caught himself, quickly closing it, no longer able to keep talking to a stranger. He leaned back in the chair, creating a wider gap between them. Who did this guy think he was, trying to tell him what to do? It was easy to bite down on the retort his brain had created. Instead of talking, he took the opportunity to study the man. The fact that he was tall and skinny was obvious, as was the mop of brown hair that fell over his face, but it was his eyes that caught Darwin’s attention. They were a brilliant blue and seemed to hold a twinkle, as though he was just on the verge of telling a joke.
The silence in the room thickened as they stared at each other.
“My name is Michael.” He paused as if expecting some response, and smiled when none came. “To answer some of your questions, I have no idea how you got here. It is beyond anything we’ve seen before. As for where you are, you should know. You’re in the old Quantum Labs building, sitting in your father’s chair.”
Darwin’s gaze swept around the office space. What the hell was this guy talking about? “This isn’t Dad’s office. His is on the main floor, near the back of the building. He always says he gets more work done if he’s far away from his bosses.”
Michael stood and tilted Darwin’s cut toward the light. Darwin jerked back at the touch before deciding to hold still.
“Hmm.” Michael’s fingers probed around the bump and Darwin winced. “Hold still. The cut isn’t bad. You’ve got a bit of a goose egg, but time will take care of that.”
Darwin grabbed Michael’s wrist and pulled his hand away. “What do you mean hmm? What’s going on around here? Why haven’t I seen anyone I recognize?”
Michael twisted out of Darwin’s loose grip and crouched down so they were at the same height. His voice lowered to barely a whisper and the smile in his eyes turned to concern. “I can’t answer your questions now. I simply don’t have the information, and they may be listening.” He threw a glance over his shoulder to the closed door. “Look, just don’t trust them. The Qabal deal in shadows and deceit and lies. Do. Not. Trust. Them.”
The last words were spoken through clenched teeth with a ferocity that took Darwin by surprise. He leaned forward to ask another question when the sound of someone at the door made Michael stand up, the smile coming back to his face.
“Who are you?” asked Darwin.
Michael pulled a small bottle of water and gauze from his pocket. So far, the only first aid equipment Darwin had seen. He wet the gauze and placed it on Darwin’s forehead, squeezing water onto the dried blood. He didn’t answer the question. The door opened and one of the men who had brought Darwin upstairs walked in.
“How long does it take to heal a cut?” the man asked.
Michael faced the man and a hard edge entered his voice. “When I’m done, I’ll let you know.”
“Well, make it quick.” The man stood in the doorway watching Michael clean up the blood.
“Hold still now, Darwin. I’ll just close the cut. The bump will be gone in a couple of days, and there won’t be any bruising.” Michael dropped his hands and his eyes lost their focus.
Darwin felt a sudden tingle around the wound. It stopped as quickly as it started.
“Here are a couple of pills. They’ll help with the headache. I had to fight to get those for you, they’re getting harder to find.”
Darwin took the pills and dry swallowed them.
Michael threw the wet gauze, now pink with Darwin’s blood, into the garbage can beside the desk and put the water back into the pocket of his blue anti-static jacket. Both men left the room without saying another word. Darwin was alone again. In the silence, he heard the lock drive home.
He touched his forehead and felt only the bump. The cut seemed to have disappeared. He pulled his hand away and stood, leaning into the window hoping to find his reflection in the glass. Outside, the shadows deepened. He thought he saw a flicker of blue at the edge of the parking lot, but when he looked at it directly it disappeared.
He raised his fingers to the cut again. Where had it gone?
Darwin twitched awake, the chair under him shifting with the sudden movement. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep, and a sense of dread settled on his shoulders. Had someone come in while he was out? Had he missed a chance to find out what was going on? He pulled his phone from his pocket, powered it on and looked at the time. It was just after eight thirty p.m.
The door opened and Darwin realized it was the sound of the lock moving that had woken him. He must not have been sleeping that deeply, which was a relief.
The smell of food wafting in from the open door made his stomach grumble. He followed the reflection from the door in the black window, watching his mother carry a tray toward him. He spun in his chair and the teenager holding the tray almost tripped, the look of fear and curiosity in her eyes etched into every fiber of her being.
Looking directly at her, he could see why her distorted reflection had tricked him. She had the same dark, wavy hair, and behind the fear, he could see his mother’s soft gray eyes. This had happened to him before, early on in his recovery process after the accident, where he had seen his mother in the distance only to realize it wasn’t her. That it would never be her. This time the resemblance was uncanny. He put on one of his forced smiles, hoping it would make her feel better. It didn’t seem to work.
The door behind her stayed open, light flooding into his darkened room from the entryway behind it. He resisted the sudden urge to jump out of the chair and bolt for the door, quickly tamping it down, following the pattern of years of trying to be inconspicuous and quiet, to blend into the background as much as possible and not be noticed.
The girl placed the tray on the desk, staring at him for a moment longer before turning to rush out of the room, turning on the lights as she closed the door. It seemed to Darwin as if she had wanted to ask him a question. Once the door was closed and locked again, he examined what she had brought him.
The food looked delicious. Two slices of buttered bread with potatoes and two baked chicken legs. The carrots were fresh and cooked to the point where they still had a bit of a crunch to them. The smell set his mouth watering, and he realized he hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Despite his hunger, it was the chipped mug that sat beside the plate that held his attention. He leaned in and stared at the black liquid inside it. Coffee! He pulled the cup closer and lowered his head over the steam rising from it, breathing in deeply, and let out a huge sigh. Just what the doctor ordered.
It wasn’t until he tasted it that he realized it wasn’t coffee. It looked and smelled like it, but the taste was way off. He drank it anyway.
In spite of the food’s appearance, the taste was bland. At least it was hot, and the crappy coffee—or whatever it was—helped wash it down. A bit of salt and pepper would have gone a long way.
It had been ages since a couple of pieces of chicken and some potatoes and carrots could fill him up, but as he leaned back in his chair sipping the last of the black liquid in the coffee cup, grimacing at its flavor as it cooled down, he felt better than he had since getting to this place. He gave in to the thoughts running through his head, something he’d avoided for most of the day.
He was still at Quantum Labs—that much was obvious. But where was everybody? Just before everything went at a right angle, his dad had been running tests and the lab had been full of people. And where was his dad? Why were they being kept apart? Was it his dad’s choice? He found that hard to believe, throwing the thought away as soon as it had formed. They had passed his office, and it was empty, and that Michael guy had called this his dad’s office. What was with that? It was one more thing that didn’t fit.
What exactly had happened down in the lab? The test had gone to full power and his vision had gone all funky. It was like the episodes he’d been having since he’d left work for the summer, but it had been mixed with elements from the Coke can dream. There had been multiple copies of the lab, all overlaid on top of one another. In some images it had looked empty, in others it had looked destroyed. He remembered one that was dark and stuffy, like his dreams of being buried alive after the accident.
All of it had been made up of the mist and wispy threads, and it was definitely tied to the QPS itself.
But it was the people in the images who stuck in his mind. Sometimes they were there, either doing the same thing or moved a little to the left or the right. Sometimes they were gone. Where his dad had stood was just an empty space on the floor without even a shadow to show where he had once been.
Sometimes things were just different—his dad with a full unkempt beard, typing alone at a terminal, or rubble strewn on the floor and the sun shining through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Just thinking of the variations brought traces of the headache back.
And what were the sheer strands of light he had seen?
Darwin shook his head and turned to look out the darkened window again. His reflection showed the same guy he had seen in the mirror that morning. Maybe a little worse for wear. He gingerly touched the bump on his forehead and pressed it lightly, feeling no pain as the pressure increased. It was smaller than it had been earlier, but it was still there. He let his finger run down the invisible scar on his face, remembering the light touch that had done the same not too long ago.
He changed his focus to outside the reflective glass, then moved to cup his hands against the window, shielding his eyes from the light in the room, and looked through them. All he saw was black. There were no lights, no moving cars. Maybe if he turned off the lights in the office he would be able to see better. He walked to the door and flicked the light switch, turning back to the window after his eyes had adjusted to the change.
A wall of dark slate lay before him. There was nothing for him to see on the other side of the glass. Moving back to the window, he stared into the distance, straining to find something—anything—that indicated there was a city out there.
People.
That’s when he noticed the stars. It was just one or two at first, and then millions of them. These were the stars he remembered as a kid, camping out by the lake with Mom and Dad beside a darkened fire pit. The memory brought back the smells of the dying fire and the sound of water lapping on the shore. He hadn’t thought of their camping trips in years. He stumbled back, bumping into the mesh chair, banging it against the desk.
The movement brought a flash of blue light into focus. It was gone as fast as it had appeared. Something was out there! He leaned into the glass and squinted, looking out of the corner of his eye. There it was again, a soft blue glow that appeared at the edge of the parking lot. It was the same light he’d seen earlier today, but bigger. Much bigger. When he turned to look at it directly, it disappeared, fading back into the night.
He turned his head away from where the blue glow was and let his eyes lose focus. It shimmered back into view. It looked like a mesh, like a chain link fence that followed the edge of the parking lot, curving around the corner and disappearing around the edge of the building. The light eddied and rewove itself, changing the links, creating a living tapestry that was never the same. He tilted his head and followed the mesh into the sky. It faded into nothing somewhere above him. It was like a wall. A wire cage made of light.
A prison.
The sound of the door opening pulled Darwin away from the window, and he blinked in the sudden light, staring at his reflection in the window once more. He turned and pressed his back against the cold glass and raised his hand to his eyes.
Someone he hadn’t seen before walked in wearing the same blue anti-static jacket as everyone else here. Darwin snorted, covering it up as a cough. The only point to them must have been as some sort of uniform. There didn’t seem to be any other reason since the lab didn’t have any equipment in it. The guy who walked in couldn’t have been much older than him, though he was at least four inches shorter. His blond hair was chopped short and looked as though it had been cut with a dull knife.
“I’m Lyell.” He stopped just inside the door and nodded his head in greeting. “Please, if you will come with me. Revered Mother would like to see you.”
Darwin pushed off the window, feeling it flex slightly under the added pressure, and moved toward Lyell, trying to ignore the religious title and the dark road it wanted to lead him down. “Who is this Revered Mother?” Hopefully someone who would answer his questions.
“Revered Mother Henslow guides and teaches us. You met her this morning when you . . . when you came here.”
Darwin stopped just short of Lyell and leaned in, using his extra height to try to intimidate the other man. He felt awkward doing it.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on here. How about we start with where is my dad? Why won’t you let me see him?”
Lyell didn’t cower or step back. “I’ve been told to bring you to the Sanctum. Your questions will be answered there.”
“Where are all the people who work here? Where are all the cars? All the people?” Darwin tried to sound menacing, swinging an open hand toward the windows and lowering his voice, forcing the words out. It wasn’t convincing. The last question came out in a high-pitched whine. He was losing his mind.
“I can’t—”
“Why the hell not?” The anger Darwin had been holding inside exploded, pushing through his reluctance to talk with people he didn’t know. He was tired of waiting, of being left alone, of the whole world cascading down around him. But most of all, of feeling weak. “Tell me!”
Lyell took two steps back into the hallway and furtively looked both ways before rushing back into the room. “There isn’t much time. She’s expecting us. Please don’t yell, just come with me and I’ll answer what questions I can . . . as long as you don’t draw too much attention to us.”
Darwin saw the look of concern mixed with fear on Lyell’s face and immediately moved away from him, feeling horrible about what he had done. It wasn’t like him to confront people like that. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even raised his voice. Despite that, he still mumbled, hopefully loud enough for Lyell to hear. “About time.”
“If anyone sees us talking, I’ll be replaced. Just keep your head and your voice down. I brought you a lab coat.” Lyell pulled a dirty blue anti-static jacket from under his belt and held it out. “We guessed the size,” he said, grinning. “But it looks like you already have one. Great condition too!”
Darwin didn’t care what his jacket looked like. “What’s going on here? Where is my dad?”
“As far as I know, still back in his lab trying to figure out what’s going on.” Lyell led the way out of the room, pulling at Darwin’s jacket. The foyer opened up below them, with its large black entrance showing the way out.
“I was there this morning. It looked like the lab was damaged, and he wasn’t there. Is he working on it now?”
“Strictly speaking, that wasn’t your dad’s lab. It was Henry Lloyd’s lab, but—as best as we can tell—it wasn’t your father’s.”
Darwin stopped walking, wanting to grab Lyell’s arm. He didn’t do it. “That doesn’t make sense. Henry Lloyd is my dad.”
“Keep walking and keep your voice down.” Lyell continued on, pulling Darwin along with him. “Our Henry Lloyd died over five years ago, when they first brought the Source online at full power. He was killed trying to shut it down.”
Darwin slowed down again. Lyell pulled harder and Darwin almost ran to keep up with him.
“For Christ’s sake, keep moving,” Lyell whispered.
“You’re not making any sense. A second ago you said my dad was back in his lab. Now you’re telling me he’s been dead for five years?” Even saying the words opened a hole in Darwin’s chest filled with pain and guilt and memories of his mom. He slammed it shut as fast as he could. It was a world he didn’t want to imagine. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost the only person who meant anything to him. He slowed his pace again, and Lyell matched it. The guy must be some form of simpleton who didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. What did Lyell mean by the Source . . . the QPS? “Dad was only running at full power today, as a test. Not five years ago. And he’s sure as hell not dead. I was with him just this morning.”
“I said our Henry Lloyd. We don’t have time for a history lesson now, I need to get you prepared.”
“History lesson? This is my life we’re talking about.” Darwin paused, Lyell’s words finally sinking in, and he felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. “Prepare me for what?” He stumbled as they took the first step down to the lobby, catching himself on the railing.
“We’ll have to talk about that later. If we can. We’re running out of time. Your being here is as confusing to us as it is to you. Whatever is going on, Henslow has a plan. You can be sure of that. I have no idea what she’s going to do with you, but I can’t imagine it’s good. The Qabal are not nice people, Darwin. They use the Threads . . . the power . . . for whatever they want. They enslave or remove everyone and everything that gets in the way of their plans.”
They reached the bottom of the curving staircase. Three people stood by the front door, the blue of their jackets standing out from the black stone surrounding it. One of them was Michael, the guy who had taken care of his cut. His was the only face that didn’t seem to hold some malice as they watched Darwin.
He walked quietly by Lyell’s side, too confused by what he was hearing to ask any more questions. And if he was being honest with himself, terrified by it. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, and his stomach felt like he was about to jump off a cliff. Things were getting weirder by the minute. Once he got to this Henslow woman, he was going to try to get some answers—she seemed to be the one in charge.
Lyell pushed open the security door to the back offices and led Darwin through.
“We’re out of time. We’ve got to see what Henslow is up to. We don’t think she knows how you got here, but if she does . . . That’s more power than anyone should have. Especially the Qabal.” He paused at the door to the basement and lowered his voice, the words rushing from his mouth. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure you’re safe, but you’ve got to go through with whatever she has planned. Get her to talk. If it turns bad, we’ll try to get you out. Michael is waiting at the front door, just in case. You’ll need one of us to get past the net.”
Lyell’s words did nothing to make Darwin feel better. They did just the opposite. He followed Lyell down the stairs in a daze. They reached the bottom and entered the hallway leading to the lab. The woman he had seen earlier stood there waiting for them. When they got closer, Lyell dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“Revered Mother. As you requested, I have brought Darwin.”
Henslow smiled. “Thank you, Lyell. Please join the others in the Sanctum and let them know to begin preparing. Darwin and I will be there shortly.”
“Come, Darwin. Let’s move away from the door while the others arrive.” She grabbed his elbow and led him further down the hall to a small room and closed the door behind them. An old mop bucket stood in the corner and two chairs lined the wall. The only light came from a bare bulb on the ceiling. “There are some things you will be hearing in the Sanctum that I’d like to explain first. Please, sit down.”
Darwin grabbed the first chair and sat, not allowing Henslow to get between him and the door. He hated having his back to a door at the best of times, but there was no way he was going to let someone get between him and his only possible escape route. He waited for her to make the first move, his leg bouncing in time with his heartbeat. She pulled the second chair away from the wall, closing the gap between them, and sat down. He slid his chair back to create more space.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked.
Darwin shook his head.
“I’m Rebecca.” She paused. “Rebecca Henslow. As you’ve heard, most people call me Revered Mother. I am the leader of these people, both physically and spiritually. You are Darwin Lloyd, son of Henry Lloyd.”
As she spoke, Rebecca pulled her hair away from her face and into a ponytail. With her face showing completely and her hair pulled back, the realization of who she was came into sharp focus.
“You’re Rebecca! We worked together for a while on the QPS monitoring systems. What the hell is going on here?”
Rebecca smiled and continued as if Darwin hadn’t spoken at all. “You came to us, remember? Something like this has never happened before, and we’d like to find out how you did it. All we know right now is that the Source in your world was turned on. Each Source entangles with the others. Each entanglement strengthens the whole. If people can move between worlds using the entanglement, it changes many things.”
“Look, lady, you’re insane. Even I can see that. Just tell me where my dad is and let me out of here.”
Rebecca stood, pushing her chair away until it banged into the far wall. Darwin cringed as her face hardened and her eyes flashed steel. “How dare—” She took a deep breath, pulled the chair close, and sat down again. “Please don’t interrupt.” Her voice turned cold and hard. “When we are in there, we’ll be asking you some questions. Once our questions are answered, we’ll take care of you.”
She was sitting closer now, and Darwin could feel her breath on his face. He fought the urge to shift even farther back. The closed door wouldn’t have let him anyway.
“And if I don’t answer the questions?”
“Although there are several potential outcomes, the Quorum will be guiding the Threads. Your choices will have already been made.”
All of the frustration and doubt and rage that had been sparking in him all day roared to the surface in a white heat that burned in his chest. “My choices have already been made? Who the hell do you think you are?” He stood and reached for the door, stopping with his hand on the knob. Rebecca stayed where she was. “I want to know where the hell I am, because it sure as hell isn’t Quantum Labs. You people went a long way to make it look like it, but it’s not. I’ve been a prisoner all day, locked in that damn office upstairs, not allowed to talk to anyone. Now it’s my turn. I want answers and I want them now.”
“Sit. Down.”
“No! Where’s my dad?” Darwin gripped the doorknob so tightly, the knuckles on his hand turned white.
Rebecca’s voice transformed into a hard whisper. “I said sit down. Now.”
She stood and raised her hand as if she was about to slap him. Her hand separated into two images, then four, all within a split second. He flinched, catching the leg of his chair with his heel. The chair spun, and Darwin reeled into it, falling backward until he was sitting with his shoulders pressed into the door. He stared at her single hand, the multiple images gone.
Oh god, it was happening again.
“Next time I tell you to do something, Darwin, you will do it. Don’t make me do it for you again.” She took a deep breath. “The probabilities were slim on the easy way working, but I thought I’d give you the chance.”
The door opened and Darwin almost fell back into the hallway before two men grabbed his arms and dragged him toward his dad’s lab.
What the hell did she mean, make me do it for you again?
Darwin twisted and pulled as the men dragged him down the hall, fighting to free his arms from their grip. He lashed out with his feet, flailing them in the air until he felt an impact. The man on his right grunted and wrenched Darwin’s arm until his shoulder screamed in agony. He felt it pull from its socket before it settled back into place. Even when the twisting stopped, the burning pain continued, bringing tears to his eyes. He stopped struggling, realizing the only thing he was really doing was making it harder for him to actually get away if—when—a chance came. If he appeared meek and docile, maybe they would relax a bit and he’d be able to yank his arms free.
Whatever he had to do to get out, whatever it took, he would do it. The more he told himself that, the more confidence he felt. It still took all of the lessons he’d learned in his therapy sessions—all self-taught to hide his emotions, his feelings, from the doctors—to calm himself. He forced his breathing to slow, and his racing heart followed. His pace quickened to keep up with his captors. Their grip didn’t loosen, but at least he wasn’t being dragged along.
He thought he had an opportunity when they reached the door to the lab. One of the men let go of his arm and he tensed. The man held the door open with his foot and grabbed Darwin’s arm again before he could make a move.
His view of the door was blocked by the man’s back as it opened. Had he swiped a security card to get in, like his dad had done? Darwin silently cursed himself for not paying attention before realizing it didn’t matter. The damn locks were meant to keep people out, not in. When he started running, the doors would just open for him. Besides, Lyell hadn’t used one to get into the office area from the lobby.
He almost stopped when the next idea hit him. The thugs gripped even tighter and pulled him along with them. Office buildings weren’t prisons. Who cared if there was a lock on the door when he was upstairs? The walls were made of drywall. All he had to do was bust through to the next room and check its door, then just keep on doing that until he hit a hallway or found one he could get out of. There hadn’t been any guards when Lyell had come to get him. With his anti-static jacket, he had a chance of blending in and walking out the door into the parking lot. After going through a wall or two, it wouldn’t look so clean anymore. He’d spent so much time moping and sleeping he hadn’t even thought about it.
The plan, such as it was, was in place. Get through whatever they were doing in the lab, and then walk out later when no one was looking. Once he was gone, he’d figure out a way to find his dad. He felt giddy with the idea.
Something Lyell had said about getting out niggled in the back of his head.
The lab was filled with a dozen or more people, creating a corridor of blue jackets leading from the door to the QPS room. Darwin noticed each jacket was slightly different, some looking as though they had been patched together from old shirts. Each one was dirty, and the room had the funky smell of unwashed bodies.
The two rows stood silent with their heads bowed. As he entered the lab, they began a soft chant that echoed in the large room, their words lost in the rhythmic melody. He thought it sounded like an odd mix of Church hymns and Toto’s “Africa.” Fear and paranoia almost bubbled out as a laugh.
The men holding him released their grip. The one who had twisted his arm so painfully moved behind him, pushing on the small of his back, while the other one led him through the human passageway. Just before they reached the entry to the room with the QPS, the leader fell into place with those in the line. Darwin felt a stronger push on his back, propelling him through the doorway. He lurched into the QPS room alone.
The chanting from the outer room stopped with an abruptness that sent goose bumps up his arms. Several people wearing the same blue jackets stood in front of the QPS in a rough semicircle. Behind them in the shadows stood the girl who had brought him his food, looking more like his mother than before. They all stared through him to the doorway behind his back. Even though he’d worked most of his life to be invisible to others, he felt a chill run down his back. He stepped to the side, turning to find what they were all looking at.
Rebecca strode between the rows of people, and as she passed each person, they turned toward the QPS and knelt. She moved past him as if he didn’t exist, and he fought the urge to grab her arm. To stop her, to tell her this was crazy. She moved behind the QPS, facing it and everyone she had just walked past, and placed her hand on the machine. As she stopped, the group around the machine spread out, completing the circle around the QPS. The chanting started again.
Darwin risked a glance at the lab door. If he bolted now, would the people stop him, or would they be so shocked they wouldn’t know what to do? He figured he would get halfway to the stairs before they dragged him down. Rebecca was the center of everyone’s attention, so he had a chance. He stood rooted to the floor, indecision making him hesitate. It was strange how only a couple of minutes ago he was hauled into a closet to talk and now he was being completely ignored. It didn’t make any sense. Then again, none of this did.
The religious overtones and ceremonial aspects of the whole thing were weirding him out. The best he could figure was that he’d been taken in by a cult and they had duplicated the Quantum Labs building. It made about as much sense as anything else he had come up with, which wasn’t saying much. One thing he’d figured out. The blue jackets weren’t a uniform, they were damn vestments.
What they had in mind for him was even tougher for him to figure out. What if it was a mass suicide, like that group up in Montana last year? Would they want him to be a part of it? Would they force it on him?
He sucked in a deep breath and held it. Jesus Christ, get a grip. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs and his throat tightened. He forced himself to swallow. Calm down. He let go of the air trapped in his lungs. Cults only killed themselves, the true believers, not outsiders. Right? The logical side of his brain struggled with how a cult could take over a building that used to house over a thousand employees.
Maybe their plan wasn’t to kill themselves. Maybe they were trying to brainwash him, make him one of them. With the small amount of food and fake coffee during the day and the bump on his head, were they trying to make him susceptible, trying to weaken him to the point where he would believe anything they said or did? But why? What would be the point of it? A single thought hammered home. What if they had drugged him?
In one smooth motion, the circle around the QPS went down on their knees. He hadn’t heard or seen a command, but they were all in perfect sync. Besides Rebecca, he was the only person still standing. He took a half step backward, risking another glance at the door to the hall. He still had a clear path.
Without warning, the light in the room brightened and he stopped, his weight barely on the foot he had just moved. None of the darkened fluorescents had come on and the others looked like they were at the same intensity as before. Something else had brightened the room. Something more fluid, more organic, though he had no idea how he got to that conclusion.
A flicker from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He focused on it. Nothing was there. Another flicker came from the left and he rotated. Again, nothing was there. The chanting increased and the room suddenly blossomed with wisps of light. Translucent gray threads that shifted and moved with the singing, like dye flowing into water, but more defined and directional. Every time he tried to focus on a single wisp, it disappeared and another came into view at the edge of his sight. He’d seem them before. The bump on his head throbbed in sudden pain, and the hornet’s nest in his brain became more active.
The threads changed again, each becoming a distinct but faint washed-out color: pink, cyan, yellow. Too many to keep track of. The chanting stopped, and he turned back to face the machine.
Rebecca stood facing him, standing slightly apart from the twelve who formed the circle. His heart sank, knowing he had missed his opportunity to run, afraid it may have been his last. Everyone in the lab still knelt, looking at the floor in silence, while those around the QPS rose to their feet.
“I give you Darwin Lloyd, visitor from another world,” Rebecca chanted.
“May you find peace,” the kneeling group replied. The circle around the QPS remained silent.
Sounding more like a mad preacher at a pulpit, she continued. “Darwin Lloyd, you have done the impossible. Connecting the worlds is a task no one has done before you. Come forward and share your knowledge, so that we may grow wiser.” Everyone in the other room looked at him with hope in their eyes; only those around the QPS remained focused on Rebecca.
He stumbled back against the wall beside the door, his hand grabbing the window frame. Another world? His thoughts jumped back to classes on early physics theories; names like Everett, Deutsch, and DeWitt. Theories discussed in passing and discarded before moving on to Bohr’s and Heisenberg’s Copenhagen interpretation. How could he share what wasn’t real? “You guys are nuts.” The constant fear that threatened to consume him burst, burning hot and freezing cold at the same time.
“Come to us, Darwin Lloyd, son of the creator. Be witness to the power of the Source. Watch hope become reality, thought become truth. Share your knowledge so the Quorum can better serve its people.”
They were nuts. Rebecca, the guys standing around the QPS, those kneeling on the hard floor in the lab, every last fricken one of them. Cult was the right word. The idea of waiting until he was back in his office prison to attempt an escape didn’t seem like such a good one anymore. He had to get out now, before they decided to suck his brain out with a vacuum cleaner looking for information he didn’t have.
Out of the corner of his eye, the amorphous threads solidified. They still shifted and moved, weaving around each other in a tapestry of color, but they seemed more stable, more solid. Each person surrounding the QPS was connected to the next by the threads; new connections were made as the old disappeared. Thicker strands joined them to Rebecca, and as he watched, a rope as thick as his arm shot out from her toward the kneeling group, and they became united to the whole.
He flinched as the bundle flew past him, and he was filled with an inexplicable sense of loss as images of the car accident flitted though his mind. The feeling left him as quickly as it had come.
“You can See!” The whispered words from Rebecca caused a ripple in the circle, and the thread’s link between them dimmed and weakened. A single wisp disconnected from the rope and weaved toward him.
He looked directly at her and the threads vanished. The buzzing in Darwin’s head exploded to a volume he’d never felt before, and the pain that had been growing in his brain stabbed outward, piercing just behind his eyes. The room spun and he dropped to his knees, not feeling the impact with the floor.
“You can See!” Rebecca’s eyes widened and Darwin thought he saw a smile cross her lips. “You, Darwin Lloyd, will be saved and brought into the fold. You will serve the Source as we do and—”
“Darwin.”
The shout pushed through the haze, temporarily shoving the headache into the background before it surged again. Dazed by the intensity of the pain, he lost his balance, smashing into the wall behind him.
Suddenly, it was all gone. The buzzing and the headache disappeared in a rush of silence, leaving him feeling empty and nauseous and weak. He waited for the darkness to come, almost begging for it to wipe the insanity of what was happening from his mind. It never did.
“Darwin, this way.”
He searched for the source of voice. Lyell stood by the lab door, sweat running down his face, beckoning Darwin closer. Rebecca and the others lay on the cold hard floor, not moving.
“Hurry. They won’t be out for long. I got lucky and took advantage of their surprise. They weren’t expecting anything during the ceremony, especially from one of their own.”
Darwin stumbled to his feet, bracing himself against the door jamb, and lurched toward Lyell. A single thought crawled through his muddled brain. Get out. Whatever the cost, just get out.
Lyell grabbed his arm and pulled him through the lab door into the hallway. He slammed the door shut behind him and ran to the closet, grabbing one of the chairs from its darkened interior. He wedged it under the door handle and looked apologetically at Darwin.
“Stupid, I know. But it may help for a bit.”
Through the blocked door they heard Rebecca shout. “Don’t let them out. The net has not been completely woven.”
Lyell slid down to the floor, crossing his legs and placing his hand on his thighs. “I’ll stay here and do what I can to slow them down. Michael should still be at the front entrance. He’ll help you get out. Run!” He closed his eyes and turned his head to face the door to the lab. Even in the brighter light of the hallway, Darwin saw faint threads reach out to touch it.
Something slammed against the jammed door, and the sound jolted Darwin. He turned and raced up the stairs, pushing through the security entrance into the reception area, hoping to surprise the guards he had seen earlier. Michael stood alone. The two others guarding the front door lay on the floor.
“I’ve been working on the net, but we don’t have much time. I should be able to get us past it. Come on.”
Darwin didn’t trust Michael any more than he trusted anyone here, but right now any way out was a good one. He followed Michael through the black stone of the entryway—the mouth of the beast—and into the cool night air at full tilt. In the darkness he could see a faint blue shimmer that hung around the building. It shifted when he looked directly at it but didn’t fade into the dark. They ran across the parking lot, ducking behind a rusting car with flat tires. The incongruous image of grass growing out of the creased and cracked rubber stuck with him as he stared at the edge of the parking lot.
This close to the blue net, it looked like a sphere surrounding the building. He could see tiny individual threads weaving together, a veil that hung loosely from the sky, swaying gently as if in a breeze. Through the sphere he could see the overgrown boulevard and what was left of the empty expressway beyond it. He reached out his hand touching the woven net with his fingers. It stretched as he pushed, feeling like a rubber balloon filled with air.
“You can See it?” Michael watched as Darwin examined the sphere.
“Yes.”
“That explains why Lyell made such a move. It will make getting through it more difficult. Close your eyes and take a step forward.”
“But I—” Distrust flared in his chest.
“You have to just do it. We must get past the net quickly. Lyell won’t be able to hold out much longer.”
Darwin looked at Michael and made his decision. He closed his eyes and stepped.
The world split and split again. Threads created images. Images created probabilities. Probabilities created hope. In one image, he was at home listening to his music on his phone. In another he was back in the lab with his dad. In yet another, the sphere bounced him back toward the Qabal.
He tripped over the hidden curb and fell toward the blue weave.