5
THE BALANCE OF LIFE AND THE COLOR OF DEATH
“REVERED MOTHER.” DARWIN bowed as Rebecca walked into his room. She hadn’t visited him in a while, and her presence filled him with unbridled joy. He hadn’t thought about why he felt like this in a long time.
“Please, Darwin, sit. The formalities are for when others are around. Alone, we are family. Sit.”
Darwin lowered himself into the only available chair while Rebecca paced around the room.
“Bill tells me your lessons are complete,” she said.
“Yes, but I feel there is so much more. I—” He almost blurted out how he had made the rail break, but Rebecca continued before he had a chance.
“There is always more to learn, Darwin, but it all needs to be paced. Too fast, and all your skills may be lost. Too slow, and time is wasted. We try to find a median that works best for every student. You need to remember that our goal was to teach you enough about the Threads so that you didn’t involuntarily fight us when we tried to find out what you knew. To send you home. Are you ready to try?”
He focused on the Threads surrounding the question, finding the ones that led to the possible decision. Before he could follow them, they faded away. New Threads formed to replace them and disappeared once again.
He looked at Rebecca. “Why won’t you let me See the possibilities?”
“Your knowledge of the Threads is not strong enough to follow the complexities of the question. You wouldn’t understand all you would See. They may suggest a path that is not correct.”
He sat in his chair, watching her pace in front of his door. How long had he been here? Two or three months? Maybe a bit more? It briefly bothered him that he couldn’t remember. It bothered him more that he wasn’t allowed to follow the Threads. He should be permitted to do that by now. In fact, he shouldn’t need permission. How much of what Bill had said was true? Could he really trust Rebecca, or was it Bill trying to turn him from his new friends? Neither option made sense, or fit in with what he knew of this new world.
A Thread flickered to his left and disappeared before he could look at it, and the thoughts fell away. He had a choice to make.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know if his unconscious mind held the information the Revered Mother was looking for. It would mean he would have to go home. Or would it?
The Qabal had taken care of him, taught him. They had become his friends, and his family. Was he willing to give that up to go back to being alone? To be the loner? The social outcast, harassed and teased for just being? The years of surgery had put him behind in school, and any friends he’d had moved on. He’d worked like a maniac to catch back up, but it hadn’t helped. He had been ostracized even more for it. It had made his anxieties worse, and he’d withdrawn even further from society. The doctors had told him he would come through everything stronger and able to face anything the world would throw at him. They hadn’t calculated how cold teenagers could be.
The only person who would miss him if he never went back would be his dad. The second the thought entered his head it faded away, and for just a moment, he lost control of the Threads and the maelstrom almost drove him to his knees. They were gone before his body could react, leaving him dizzy and a little nauseous. He was left with a single thought.
“If it works, would I be able to come back, or . . . or stay here?”
Rebecca smiled and stopped her pacing. “Of course, Darwin. You have a home here. People who care about you, about what happens to you.”
He stood, straightening his back, and looked the Revered Mother in the eyes. “There is no decision to make, Revered Mother—Rebecca. Any way that I can help, I will.”
Rebecca smiled again, and he felt his cheeks flush with happiness and his heart thudded faster in his chest. He knew, more than he’d known anything else in his life, that he’d made the right decision.
“An excellent choice.” She turned to leave and stopped at the door, looking around the empty office once more. “Your room is a bit spartan.” She beckoned to someone standing just outside the door. “Frank will guide you around the compound and help you fill up some of this space. This will be your room, if you do choose to stay.” She left, still smiling, leaving Frank in the doorway.
With the Revered Mother gone, the Threads came back into full view, and he automatically limited his Sight.
“Hey,” said Frank, “I’ll just be out in the hall here when you are ready to look around, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” He looked at Frank, recognizing the man from when he had been carried up the stairs after Michael had tried to get him away. Surprisingly, that revelation didn’t bring on any feelings of anger or hatred. The man was doing his job, making sure Darwin was safe.
Frank closed the door and Darwin quietly reveled in the sense of belonging, of having a family. Of, finally, being home.
He looked around his room. Most of the time he’d spent here had been sleeping through the exhaustion of training with the Threads. All he had was a solid wood office desk and the mesh-backed chair. Throw in the cot with its two patched blankets and you had his room. Even with all the empty space and the big windows, it felt small and smelled stale. It was definitely time to make it more comfortable. He opened the door and stepped out. Frank waited, a questioning look on his face.
“Let’s get some stuff.”
“Sure,” Frank said. “This way.”
Darwin closed the door behind him and followed Frank to the stairs leading down to the lobby. He’d taken them many times before, going to and from Bill’s or the Sanctum, but this time it felt different. It—the entire building—felt confining. The beige walls pressed in on him and the high ceiling seemed like it was sinking and compressing the room, stealing the air, making it hard to breathe. He had been inside for far too long.
“It’s been months since I’ve been outside. Could I step out, just to get some fresh air?”
Frank didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, if you want.”
Darwin kept his eye on the goal, the black stone-encased front doors. All he wanted to do now was to get outside, to breathe the unfiltered air, to have a taste of something he hadn’t realized he had missed until now. The feeling had come on so strong and so suddenly, he had no ability to control it.
There were no guards in the building entryway. He couldn’t remember when they had left, when they were no longer standing by the entrance, but he hadn’t seen them in a long time. They hadn’t been needed when he’d been flanked by two guards whenever he’d had to leave his room. By the time he’d been allowed to go to classes alone, he hadn’t wanted to leave.
Bill stood at the bottom of the stairs. He lifted a hand in greeting as Darwin passed. Darwin reached out to touch Bill’s shoulder, his focus on the doors that had become his goal. The drive to get outside became overwhelming and he picked up his pace. Frank followed closely on his heels. Darwin stumbled through the doors, only stopping when he reached the middle of the empty parking lot and sucked the cold air deep into his lungs.
The air tasted fresh and clean. Clouds still lay scattered across the sky, but the dark menacing ones Darwin had seen out his window earlier had moved on, leaving a wet trail in their path. He breathed in again, letting the rich moist air fill his senses. It would have been nice to walk through the tall grass, now brown with the onset of winter, that had taken over the boulevard and crept into the parking lot itself. He could still smell the moisture in it. He barely remembered the once carefully manicured lawn that had become wild, or the well-placed trees that had overgrown their allotted space, branches waving in the cool wind.
Darwin strode closer to the boulevard, over the thin layer of dirt and weeds to the curb, and reached out to touch the woven blue sphere surrounding the building. Seeing it had become commonplace, even in daylight. It was as much a part of the Quantum Labs building as the walls and the black stone entrance. Because of his training, the mesh had taken on a grayish hue, looking more steel-blue than the generic color he had first seen. The Threads of the sphere responded to his touch by gently pushing his hand away.
“Has it always been here?” he asked, not sure if his lack of ability had made it seem partial a few months ago.
“Nope.”
“It was put here to keep me in.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“I heard it was to keep people out. They’ve tried to sneak in and steal stuff. Revered Mother shares what she can, but it is never enough for them.” Frank’s voice hardened on the last two words.
Darwin picked a single Thread in the weave and reached for it. His finger never touched it. Instead, the Thread moved and his finger went through the mesh. He sucked in a sharp breath and continued pushing. When the rest of his hand reached the Threads, they moved again and nestled into the spaces between his fingers, pushing back and stopping his hand from going through as well.
Just over his head, a branch stuck through the weave and a single Thread had wrapped itself around it. He tugged his hand out and grabbed the branch. As he pulled and pushed it, the mesh adapted and shifted, letting the branch move, never hindering its motion, but never releasing it. Moving it sideways briefly made the gaps in the mesh larger until the other Threads compensated. It was as though the wall was a living organism.
The long grass on the other side of the woven wall shifted, and a man shot up, standing directly in front of Darwin. Some corner of his mind noted the man had attached some of the grass to his clothing, making him almost invisible until he moved. The man stepped forward, his hand reaching for Darwin, not stopping at the mesh, but sliding smoothly through and wrapping around Darwin’s wrist. The man yanked, jerking Darwin toward him. He pulled back, adrenaline and panic surging through him. He pushed against the flexible mesh with his free hand. The mesh separated, and his arm fell through, stopping at his shoulder. The man pulled harder and the curtain split again, allowing Darwin’s body through. His feet caught the curb and he tripped forward, landing in a heap at the man’s feet, wet grass pressed into his cheek.
As he went through, something in his brain ripped away, like a bandage torn off, leaving behind an open wound that poured out memories instead of blood. The panic—the need—to get back to the other side fought with the sudden onslaught of feelings of home. Of the realization of how long he had spent behind the blue mesh. Of his dad. Memories and feelings cascaded through him as though a dam had burst. The rush fought against his impulse to get back to Rebecca.
The gap in the mesh closed as quickly as it had opened, leaving Frank on the other side. Frank threw himself against it and the Threads rearranged themselves to take the impact, stretching out as they absorbed his body weight. Darwin lunged toward him, trying to grab something, anything, that would get him back in. The action was more reflex than anything else. His hand brushed the mesh and was yanked back.
“Don’t touch it. Get up, we have to move quickly.”
“Let me go! Frank, help me!” Darwin scrambled closer to the weave, yanking at the grass and the tree branch to pull himself forward, desperate to get back inside. Back to his family.
His family. His dad. His classes at university. The bed he’d slept in for over a decade, surrounded by things that belonged to him. Memories of his classes with Bill and services in the Sanctum. The strange feeling that leaving the Qabal was leaving his mother fought against the old memories rising to the surface.
“I said get up.”
Hands grabbed Darwin and hauled him to his feet, pulling him further from his home and the people he cared about.
“Move!”
“No!”
“My god, what have they done to you? Look at me. I said look at me! It’s me, Michael. For Christ’s sake, Darwin, look at me.”
On the other side of the mesh, Frank turned and ran toward the front doors of the building, yelling to drop the shield.
Leaving Darwin behind.
“Michael?” He knew that name, struggled to pull the memory from the chaos that had taken over his mind. He shook his head to clear it. It didn’t work.
Michael had helped him once. Movement caught Darwin’s attention and he looked through the blue curtain, seeing a lone figure run out of the building toward them. Michael ignored it.
“That’s right, Darwin. Michael. Now come on, we need to go.” His words were spoken softly.
“Go?” It was as if the world had twisted. Things that should have made sense didn’t. Why was it so cold outside? Summer had just ended. But no . . . he’d been here for three months. It must already be December.
The figure got close to the mesh. “Why haven’t you gone yet? Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him to come outside?” Bill’s voice pierced through the confusion in Darwin’s head.
“Bill?”
“It’s me, Darwin. You need to go with Michael. Now.”
“But I . . . Revered Mother . . .”
“Dammit. They must have done something to him, given him something beyond the inhibitor. Or messed with his mind using Threads. How could I have missed it?” Bill looked at Michael. “Can you get him away on your own?”
Darwin swayed as Michael helped him stand. “I can try.”
“Bill? Don’t leave, Bill. Please?”
“Damn.” Bill looked over his shoulder at the gaping maw of the beast. “I’d better come with you. It looks like you’re going to need all the help you can get.” He stepped through the mesh as if it wasn’t there. “It’s going to feel good to get out of here.”
Two more figures ran from the building and headed toward them.
Bill grabbed Darwin’s other arm and they ran across the boulevard onto the overgrown expressway, dragging Darwin between them.
“We need to move faster.”
“Come on, we’ll get into the bushes over there and I’ll hold them off while you prep,” Bill said.
They hauled Darwin across the cracked pavement and onto the next boulevard, moving into a small clump of wild bushes and trees. Bill turned and left.
Michael sat, still holding onto Darwin, and closed his eyes.
The urge to run back had left Darwin. Instead, his head was filled with snippets of conversation, fragments of thoughts that felt more like half-formed memories that flitted through his mind. Confusion took over, making him dizzy, until even that disappeared, leaving him empty and alone. His status quo.
He watched dully as Michael pulled Threads closer to him, twisting and spinning them into a short, man-sized cylinder that pierced the air, creating what looked like a tunnel made of yellow Threads. Once it was complete, a thick Thread started forming from its center, reaching away from Quantum Labs toward some unknown goal. It grew until Darwin couldn’t follow it anymore. Sweat beaded on Michael’s face.
“Step inside the hole.”
“Why, what is it?” The words sounded slurred, even to him.
“Bill,” Michael raised his voice, “let’s go.”
Bill came running through the bushes and eyed the cylinder appreciatively. “Nicely done.”
“Just get in.”
“After Darwin.”
“Just go. Make sure the destination is clear.”
Bill nodded, stepped into the cylinder, and disappeared.
“Your turn, Darwin. Hurry up, I can’t hold it forever.”
“Where did he go?”
“South. Step through.” Michael stood and shoved Darwin toward the cylinder.
Darwin tumbled inside, following Bill.
His head turned inside out, his skin burning with a cold so intense it felt like it peeled from his bones and charred to a crisp. His breath froze his lungs until he was unable to breathe.
His heart beat a rapid staccato in his chest and sweat morphed into crystals of ice, falling off his exposed skin like fine snow. Panic surged through him. He had to get out, get back to something normal.
It was over as suddenly as it had begun. An instant of time stretched to fill eternity. Darwin stood beside Bill, his mind reeling with the sudden cessation of feeling. His knees buckled and a strong arm wrapped around his waist, Bill’s voice cutting through the jumble that filled his head, calm and soothing. When he finally looked up, he saw they were in the middle of suburbia. Or what used to be suburbia, anyway. The houses stood empty, their windows broken or boarded up, doors hung from hinges, and the grass grew tall enough to hide small children. To the left, an entire block looked like it had been leveled by a bomb, leaving a gaping hole in the landscape. Michael popped out of thin air beside them.
“I started collapsing the hole, but they may be right behind us,” Michael said.
Bill and Michael grabbed Darwin and pushed him down the street at a run.
He pulled and twisted, trying to free himself from their grip. His brain wasn’t working, alternating between complete emptiness and a cacophony of half-formed thoughts. He knew he had to get back to Dad’s lab. Back to his dad. Back to Rebecca. But Bill was here, with him. Nothing was making sense.
Dad?
The thought stuck, centering him.
Bill’s grip loosened and Darwin twisted free. He spun around, pulling Michael’s fingers from around his arm.
Bill stood where he was, no longer trying to keep hold of Darwin. From the corner of his eye, Darwin caught sight of a deep red Thread. Without thinking, he followed it back to its source.
Rebecca and Frank stood close to where Michael had popped in. The red Thread formed in front of her, reaching toward Bill. Darwin could See tiny manipulation Threads holding it in place. The Thread pulsed, and a wave of heat flowed down its length. He followed the pulse, lost in the Thread, pulled along with it like a magnet to metal. In the blink of an eye, the pulse reached the other end of the Thread, extending it until it wound around Bill’s chest. A second pulse thickened and tightened it.
A loud crack shattered the silence and Bill’s face drained of all color.
Bill’s hand darted toward Darwin, grabbing his shoulder in an uneasy grip. “Go. Run.” His voice was strained and pinched. His gaze never left Rebecca. A series of small pulses shot down the Thread, away from Bill, fighting against the push created by her.
Darwin stood rooted in the street. Michael’s pull on his arm faded into the background as he watched. He was vaguely aware of tiny Threads just outside his field of view, but he pushed them aside.
The first of Bill’s pulses hit Rebecca’s end of the Thread, and Darwin saw her twitch. When the second pulse hit her, the Thread became thinner and her face tightened. Beside her, Frank began to build a Thread of his own.
Rebecca thrust another pulse down her now thinner line. Darwin could See it was smaller, less controlled than her previous ones. It met Bill’s only a few feet away from her, barely slowing either of them down. Bill’s pulse hit Rebecca. The Thread began to unravel as she dropped to the ground, her face constricted in pain. Darwin took a half step toward her when Bill screamed.
Her pulse had hit him square in the chest just before the Thread dissipated into nothing. His blue smock had ripped open, revealing a scrawny white chest. The skin had split and shattered ribs thrust obscenely through the opening. Bill fell to his side, his head hitting the concrete with a sickening thud.
Darwin felt the yank on his arm again.
“We need to go. Don’t waste what Bill gave us.”
Darwin turned and ran blindly after Michael. His last view of Rebecca was of Frank kneeling over her still form.
Part of him hoped she was dead.