Chapter Forty-eight

MY FIRST MIND READING, the Event, this room was where it all started. Inside, much had changed. The walls were draped in what looked like liquid cobwebs, thick black strings as if they were dripping from place to place. But it was the window that was different. No longer was it a four-pane, ordinary window; now it was a vacant hole in the wall. Beyond the opening was a spectacular light, one like I’d never seen before, something that shone like a mix between a sunrise and an atomic bomb forever going off.

“That is our world.” A voice behind me spoke, but it wasn’t Dad’s voice this time; it was a whisper that slithered between my head at a perfect volume. I’d heard it before. The mind-numbing voice now had an origin.

Quickly I turned around. From the sticky shadows on the floor, a substance molded itself into the shape of a man, uncoiling like a snake in hiding. It looked like a man only because it was the only shape I think I would have understood. The rest of its body was glossed over with dark, liquid oil continuously spilling over and over itself. The torso flowed down, returning to the shadow on the floor. Then two golden spheres brightened to life, little yellow-flamed eyes.

It spoke again, and when it did, the oil split on its face, pulling itself apart to create each word.

“We’ve been watching you, Nolan,” it hissed.

My instinct was to back away from it slowly. “What are you?”

“We are a collective, a hive, slipping between the thin places of existence. That was until you freed us, opened our eyes, and made us aware of your world.”

The substance shifted to my right in a quick, simple, fluid motion.

“What do you want?” My words shook as they came out.

“To thrive, just as we have been doing. Thanks to you.”

The dark matter lifted what I supposed would be an arm on a human being, the oil texture swirling and moving as if it were alive. It pointed a finger. I tried to back up but found myself against a cobwebbed wall. It pressed its finger against my forehead and the feeling was cool, like a piece of ice.

It removed the finger, and my breathing returned.

“What do you mean, thanks to me?”

“Each mind you have entered, you’ve opened a door for us.”

My thoughts sank over what it said. Every mind I’ve read, I’ve opened a door. I’ve let this thing in?

“Yes,” it hissed again, hearing my thoughts. Had it been listening to me this entire time?

“Although we manifest here, we are many of one mind.”

That’s right; it had said it was a collective. There were more of these things.

“Inside each of the minds you have entered,” it answered. “We are many, but one. As many minds as you open, we consume,” it went on.

“We’ve been growing, waiting for you, feeding off your peers, off their emotions, yearnings, depressions, and . . .” It seemed to lick its lips. “. . . deaths.”

My thoughts raced to Stephanie.

“Oh, yes. She fed us well.”

“You killed her?”

“Only the ultimate sacrifice.”

“And the doctor? You killed him too?”

It smiled. “Only with your help.”

I took a deep breath. I had done this, allowed this to happen.

“Now we will join with you and gain your abilities. Then together we will devour everything.”

I started to choke on the realization of what was going on. “Why don’t you just enter the people’s minds by yourself?”

“We do not possess that trait, but in turn, harbor many others. Just as we stopped those bullets or mentally moved physical objects in your world, or even nourish off thoughts themselves.”

It moved toward me. “Come, accept us, as others have, and you’ll be unstoppable.”

My body felt weak and my breathing was labored. I looked down at my hands to find that my skin was pale and felt moist and clammy.

“Yes,” it whispered, the voices rising from around the room. “Look how strong you have become. Join with us and be one.”

Sweat broke out on my face and under my arms. Licking my lips, I could feel their rough, cracked edges.

Suddenly I fell to my knees. I felt my bones hit the floor hard. My eyes started to roll back into my head, and everything began to go black. I felt out of control. Was it controlling me?

Whatever it was doing, I was losing. This thing was weakening me. I felt so tired. My physical and mental capacities were drained from the lack of sleep. I couldn’t fight back.

Accept us. An icy, oily grip clenched around my neck and I was powerless to resist. I could feel my airway slowly closing like a car window being rolling up.

My thoughts flooded to Rick and Tracy, then to Kate, and then finally to Dean. They would all succumb to this same fate.

The predatory voices rose like an orchestra crescendo gathering inside me. This was it; I was trapped. And now I could finally sleep.

The room started to spin around me as the voices swelled louder. Then my mind snapped and a reflex kicked in. My airway opened more, but the hand around my neck squeezed tighter.

Reaching up, I tried to grasp the oily substance, but my hands slid off. It was impossible. I didn’t want this to happen; I couldn’t let it.

From the ground rose a force spreading between the collective’s arm and me, separating us. I breathed in fully again, my lungs filling and my heart pounding against my chest.

Still on my knees, I looked up and saw that a wave of dark water had built a wall between us.

Did I do that?

Two dark hands came through the wall, shredding it into pieces instantly. The collective roared at me as I formed another thick wall between us. Again it tore the barrier to ribbons with ease and came at me, both arms outstretched. I created another wall to stop him, but this tactic wasn’t working. He was way too strong in here.

Blinking out from Dad’s head and now returning to my own body, I was back in the Mitchells’ house. Dad still stood, Dean still hung, trying to signal me, but for some reason he couldn’t talk. I could see his eyes doing the shouting.

Dad looked as though he had just broken out of a trance, his body flopping back to life. I backed away, retreating toward the stairs.

Receive us, came his voice creepily in my head, the ax now held at half-staff.

“No!” I yelled.

The voice growled back, Accept us, or he will perish. Dad looked up at Dean, took a stride back, and countered the weight of the ax in both his hands. Dean squirmed, his heels punching holes in the drywall.

“Wait, no!” I begged. “Please!” There was nothing I could do.

Dean looked down at me, tears streaming down his face. There was no way I could defeat this thing inside Dad’s head.

What I needed was to change things to my advantage. I needed a new battleground. Then it struck me.

“You want me? Come and get me!” My eyes pierced Dean’s and I entered his mind.