Chapter Fifteen

Quentin had grown tired of falling through fire and looked around for a way out. There seemed to be nothing but smoke and flames. He grabbed around fruitlessly, seeking something to hold onto.

Abandon all hope, Quentin. This is where it ends.

“I don’t believe that. You said yourself that reality is much greater than it appears. There’s nothin’ great about any of this.”

Quentin remembered how he’d gotten out of the sixth dimension; by killing Dalton. The way to break out of this dimension would therefore be to kill the voice inside his head… unless he never really needed to kill Dalton. He just needed a way to stop his influence on him.

I see those dark thoughts of yours. Do not waste your time; I cannot be killed. I am your past, your present, and your future. I am everything, everywhere you turn, everywhere you go. I cannot be silenced.

Quentin listened closely to the words he heard. It then occurred to him; he heard those words. The voice wasn’t in his mind at all. The source was external.

“Maybe I can’t shut you up, but I can stop hearin’ you.”

Quentin shut his eyes, grabbed both his ears and tore them off. A blinding pain followed from the tearing of skin and cartilage, and a constant, high-pitched ringing replaced the voice. The feeling of falling stopped; he had the impression he was now levitating on thin air. He took a deep breath, and the purest air filled his lungs. All agony vanished in a flash and was replaced by a sense of relief. He opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by a white light. It filled the world around him, not in an overwhelming manner, but in a warm and comforting way.

In the midst of the white light appeared a pond, reflecting a warm shade of purple. He looked up. A purple sky had formed above him. He crawled toward the pond and looked at his reflection. It made him burst into laughter. He plunged his hands into the pond. The water felt thick as honey yet smooth as silk. He splashed his face with the water and felt the ecstasy of rejuvenation. He jumped inside the pond and found himself laying in a meadow full of poppy flowers, surrounded by large trees with luminous green leaves that twisted and turned in a fairy tale-like manner. He sat up and looked to his left. Edward Reid was in his car, parked under a tree.

“How was prison?” Edward asked from the window.

“Was all right, but I had to rip me ears off to get out.” Quentin touched his ears and realized they were still there.

“You comin’ in?” Edward waved him over.

Quentin walked over to the car and got inside. They drove to a deserted country road. To the east were rolling green hills, and to the west the Irish Sea.

“Where would you like to go?” Edward asked.

“Where can I go?”

“How about home?”

Quentin looked into the cup holder, where a can of beer sat. He took a swig and tossed it out the window. A gust of wind carried it all the way out to the sea, where it finally fell. It skipped a few times like a pebble and dropped like a bomb had gone off; a fountain of water shot several feet out of the sea.

“Where is home?”

“Wherever you want it to be.”

Quentin looked toward the hills. Pope Clement XV was there, shearing sheep with Father Peter. The wool turned into snow, and the Pope’s shear turned into a shovel. He handed it to Father Peter, who shovelled the snow to the side. The snow turned into a rocket ship. The Pope and Father Peter stepped inside, and it blasted off. It turned into a paper airplane and flew across the horizon.

“Did you see that?” asked Quentin.

“What do we see? What don’t we see? How do we know if we really see what we see? I see the sea; what do you see?”

“Yeah, but I’m really just lookin’ for me rat.”

“There are plenty of rats in multiple worlds.”

“I’m looking for one in particular.” Quentin looked at the road ahead. Brooke was right in front of them.

“Stop the car!” yelled Quentin.

“I can’t,” replied Edward.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I’m not drivin’ the car. I’m not doing anythin’.” Edward lifted his hands off the steering wheel and laughed.

Quentin yanked the emergency brake, but they hit Brooke. She flew into the air, landed, and rolled along the road several feet ahead of them. The two stepped out of the car and approached the lifeless beast.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was me rat.”

A bell rang behind them. “It’s not dead, you know.”

They turned around. There stood Stanley, getting off his bike. He walked over and joined them, still wearing his helmet.

“Looks pretty dead,” said Edward.

“Oh, the rat’s dead, sure.” Stanley took off his helmet and pointed to his own head. “What’s underneath isn’t.”

Stanley handed Quentin back his switchblade. Quentin opened Brooke’s side and found the chip.

“It’s useless when it’s not in Brooke, though. She was guiding me with it.”

The paper airplane flew toward the group and landed next to them.

“Sorry guys, that’s mine.” Father Peter came running up to them from the hills and picked up the plane. It turned into a pile of cocaine.

“Put the chip in there and snort it,” Father Peter said, holding out his cocaine-filled hand.

“No fuckin’ way. It was inside a rat a moment ago.”

Quentin felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. “Grow a pair and do it.” He turned around. His eyes met Isidora’s; she gave him a half-smile.

“Very well. I’ve probably snorted worse.”

Father Peter put the cocaine onto the hood of the car and Quentin dropped the chip inside. He did a line, and then another, and another, until there wasn’t anything left.

“You could have at least shared,” grumbled Father Peter.

Quentin felt all-powerful. He grabbed Stanley’s bicycle and hurled it into the Irish Sea with one hand; it spun around itself like a Frisbee. Quentin picked up the car and tossed it into the sea as well. It cut right through the surface of the water without creating the slightest ripple. But the sea faded away, as did the road, and the hills, and the people around him, into darkness… and code. Code everywhere. Quentin knew exactly where he had to go.

* * *

“I believe he took the chip out of Brooke and put it into himself,” said Dalton.

“He should have done that in the first place,” said Isidora.

“He likes his freedom,” said Stanley.

Darcy waved to Isidora in an attempt to attract her attention. “Isidora, would you mind coming back over here? We have a bit of a problem.”

She pointed to the interdimensional portal. It now filled the vast majority of the laboratory and was growing at an increasingly rapid rate.

“Let’s hope he gets there soon,” said Isidora.

“I’m afraid it might be too late,” replied Darcy.

The portal expanded, taking over the entire laboratory. Dalton, Stanley, Isidora and Darcy vanished from existence.

* * *

Almost there. Keep going, Quentin told himself, nearing the passage through the sixth dimension. The code around him flickered a couple times. He continued toward the passage, and sections of code began to disappear and were replaced by the void.

Fuck off, not now, not when I’m this close. The code disappeared around him more and more rapidly, until there was nearly nothing left.

I’m not going to fuckin’ make it. He threw himself forward helplessly in a final attempt to reach the passage, and in the last nanosecond before everything vanished, Quentin Campbell travelled through time.