The Chronicles of the 8th Dimension - Limited Edition Box Set (4 Books): A Supernatural Thriller Box Set

by Carissa Andrews

  “I should call this in,” I say, reaching for my cell phone. “I mean, I have no idea if paramedics can make it up this cluster of cars, but—”

  “Already did. I had to use my HAM radio, though. Cell towers are down; all I got was static,” Morgan says quickly. “Didn’t get a response, though.”

  “Doesn’t look like anyone is going to be going anywhere in a hurry,” Mike says, stating the obvious.

  The four of us turn to face the crater, our eyes all fixed on the strange, glowing nature of the massive hole.

  “How could this…happen?” Thea finally says in a hushed voice.

  “I dunno, how can thousands of people just go missing?” Morgan shrugs. “Maybe it’s the will of the gods.”

  “Yup. Knew I shoulda kept my mouth shut,” Thea says, twisting on her heel. She doesn’t get far before she twists back around to us. “Uh, guys?” she says, her voice wavering—nothing like the sure, cocky, confident woman she’s been thus far.

  We all turn in unison, and in sequence, each of our jaws slack open.

  “Holy shit, where did everyone go?” I say breathlessly.

  As far as the eye can see, not a single person is left on the freeway. With the exception of Morgan’s green Corolla, everything and everyone has simply vanished.

  “My bike’s gone. Why the fuck is my bike gone?” Thea curses, kicking the place where it used to be.

  “Well, my car’s still here,” Morgan beams, pointing. “Guess the gods approved.”

  Thea presses her fingertips to her forehead, “Why? Why me? Why am I always stuck with imbeciles? I mean, is it a sick cosmic joke? Am I destined to be surrounded by apes dressed as humans? You know what? Forget this. I’m outta here.”

  She casts her hand back, swiping away the presence of the three of us behind her, and starts walking.

  “Oh my god, Cassidy,” I say, my eyes widening in realization.

  “Who’s Cassidy?” Mike asks.

  I don’t stop to answer him. Instead, I push past Thea, racing ahead of her and down the road.

  “Cassidy. Cass—” I yell out.

  As I run, I can hear the three of them discussing who Cass might be and if she’s my wife, daughter, or girlfriend.

  Honestly, I don’t give a shit where they land. I just know I need to get to her.

  She has to still be okay.

  The farther I run, the more intense the clenching in my stomach gets. Everyone is gone. All the cars that were in this deadlock have vanished, and I should have been able to see our Prius by now.

  Coming to a screeching halt, I realize I just passed the place where our car hit the guardrail. Backtracking, I crouch down, looking for signs of the impact so I know I’m not going completely crazy.

  There, right where my car should be, is an indentation and a smattering of silver paint scraped from my driver’s-side door.

  My heart aches, and my brain is an utterly useless blank slate.

  I have no idea what this means, but it has to be good, right?

  Behind me, I hear the sound of rubber soles crunching on the asphalt, but I can’t bring myself to look up.

  “Shit. She’s not here. How—how do we help him? I mean, my brain hasn’t even processed this yet for myself. How do we console someone in a situation like this?” Mike says in the distance. “Is there a right way and a wrong way?”

  “We just gotta be there for him when he realizes,” Morgan says, somewhere near Mike.

  I cringe.

  I realized the second I found my car missing and my wife gone, but that doesn’t mean it makes a damn bit of sense.

  “Realizes?” Mike says, his voice distant as he tries to downplay their conversation.

  “You know, that she’s not coming back to him. I mean, you guys realize that, right?” Morgan says. “These people—they’re not here anymore. Does anyone else have someone who might be…”

  “Nope,” Thea says instantly.

  “Nu-uh,” Mike says. “I mean, not here, anyway. My folks are back home—at least, dang, I hope they are.”

  Morgan, Thea, and Mike stand in a semi-circle behind me, back as far as they dare, thankfully allowing me a few moments to deal.

  My fingertips trace the place where our car had impacted the guardrail, and I can’t bring myself to look away. It’s the only evidence I’m still dealing with reality and not off in la-la land.

  “What in the… ?” I mutter to myself. “How can any of this…?”

  “Why us, guys?” Thea says behind me. I look over my shoulder to see her biting her lip and surveying the scene around us.

  “What are you talking about? Why them?” I spit, standing up. “Where is my wife?”

  “I dunno. But look around you. We’re it. We’re the only ones here. Have you stopped to ask yourself, why?” she presses.

  “Do I honestly look like I care right now?” I fire back.

  My eyes ache, probably already bloodshot, and if I’m not careful I know I’ll break down completely. Cass and I had our issues—every married couple does—but I would never wish for this. Never in a million years. She was my queen. We never even got to start our family—

  “Well, you should,” Thea says, jutting her chin out like a petulant child. “Think about it. We were the only ones who got out and tried to do something. To help. Everyone else stayed in their damn vehicles. And now? Where the fuck are they?”

  “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. I mean, how is any of this even possible?” Mike says, rubbing his hands over the top of his head.

  “It isn’t,” Morgan says, “unless you believe it was divinely intended.”

  “Oh for fucksake, we’re not into your religious nutjob speak,” Thea says, rolling her eyes dramatically.

  “My wife thought all of the disappearances were government-led…and now she’s gone.” I blink away a tear that has the audacity to fall. “I don’t know what this is, but we better find out fast.”

  Mike bites the inside of his cheek and looks at the ground.

  “Guys, we need to get outta here. Go someplace and see if we can sort this all out. We can’t just stand here in the middle of a torn-up freeway,” Morgan says. “I know a place nearby we can go to, if you want to follow me.”

  “Why on earth would any of us want to do that?” Thea mutters. “This is just too insane for me.”

  Turning on her heel, she walks away with her hands raised. Her biker boots crunch loudly on the asphalt, but I cling to the sound because it’s the only one grounding me to reality.

  We all stand there, watching her go—partly out of confusion and partly out of complete disorientation.

  “C’mon, guys. We need to regroup. I promise we’ll be safe,” Morgan says, taking one of my hands and one of Mike’s, as if we’re children who need to be led.

  “Dunno if anyone can guarantee safety anymore,” Mike mutters, looking over his shoulder at me. I drop her hand, glancing back at the guardrail.

  “You comin’?” Mike asks, tipping his eyebrows up in the middle.

  Running my palm along the cold, warped metal, a shudder runs through my spine.

  If I stand still, I swear I can hear Cassidy’s voice calling my name.

  Shuddering, I say, “I—uh, yeah. I think. But not for long.”

  The three of us pull Morgan’s little green car back from the precipice and climb in. I sink deep into the upholstery, allowing my eyes to glaze over as I place my forehead against the window. The cool glass momentarily transports me from the bizarre-o world we’ve suddenly been sucked up in. But it does nothing to fill this opening chasm in my chest.

  “Should we try one more time with Thea?” Morgan asks as she reverses slowly.

  “I think we should,” Mike says. “I mean, do you see anyone else around here? She shouldn’t be alone.”

  I glance up to catch Morgan tugging her lips downward.

  When we’re a good distance away from the edge, Morgan turns the car around and eases it down the road t
oward Thea. The biker hasn’t made it very far, despite her quick steps.

  As we get closer, Mike lowers his passenger-side window and sticks his head out. “Hey, you sure ya don’t wanna come with us? It’s better if we can sort this all out together.”

  “Pretty sure,” Thea says, not even looking over her shoulder.

  Morgan and Mike exchange looks, and I roll my eyes. The only way to get her to agree is to make her think it’s her idea. That’s how it always was—is—is, dammit—with Cassidy.

  Holy shit, I’m already thinking about her in past tense.

  I pinch my eyes shut.

  “All right, suit yourself,” Mike says, starting to raise his window. “See ya around. Hopefully.”

  “Hey,” Morgan calls, leaning slightly over the middle console, “if you change your mind, look for the sanctuary on Olympus Road. You can’t miss it.”

  “Yippie,” Thea says, twirling her finger in the air.

  “Take care and stay safe,” Morgan mutters, allowing Mike to finish raising the window.

  They both wave to her as we continue onward.

  “Where do you think she plans on going?” I ask, replacing my forehead against the cool glass.

  “Who knows? I don’t even think she does,” Morgan whispers. “Hopefully, she’ll change her mind.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. She was pretty adamant,” I mutter.

  I know all too well the kind of perseverance held by a strong woman. If she doesn’t want to join us, she won’t.

  Morgan nods, driving us in silence. We reach our new destination in under ten minutes, but it feels like the blink of an eye. Pulling up on the street just in front of a monolithic structure, Morgan puts the Corolla into park. It’s a beautiful old worship house, but clearly, one that hasn’t been used officially in years. Some of the lower stained-glass windows have been broken and boarded back up. The letters on the sign have been removed, their previous presence only noticeable by the slightly darker wood where they had been. In their place, other symbols have been drawn with red spray paint. I have no idea what any of them stand for.

  “I like the finishing touches,” Mike jokes.

  Morgan follows his index finger and sighs. As she kills the ignition, she takes a deep breath and turns to face us.

  “Okay, guys, don’t freak out when you go inside,” she whispers, dropping her gaze to the center console.

  “Why would we freak out? Pretty sure we’ve all seen a worship house before,” I say, lifting my head from the window.

  “Because…well, you’ll see,” Morgan says, shrugging before she unlatches her door. For the first time since Morgan arrived on the scene, I’m suspicious of her intentions.

  Slowly, I tug at my own door handle and kick open the door. The entire street is deserted—not even the typical kid on a skateboard or bike racing up and down the sidewalk.

  Chills run down my spine as I close the car door and walk up the stone steps toward the building. The late-afternoon sunlight hangs heavy, illuminating the back end of the building and casting it in an odd, glowing halo as we walk toward the entrance. The light filters through the tree branches, heavy with summer growth. Dandelion tufts and other plant paraphernalia adorn the air like magical fairies dancing in the sunlight.

  It would all be beautiful if circumstances weren’t so grim.

  Morgan casts me a backward glance as she thrusts a key through the keyhole. The enormous wooden door creaks open, and the thick scents of frankincense and myrrh assault my senses, bringing me back to the afternoons of prayer at my Nana’s house.

  “Whew. Didn’t think this worship house was still in use,” Mike says.

  “It’s not,” Morgan says, raising her eyebrows. “At least, not like that.”

  She ushers the two of us inside, then closes the door behind her. The deadbolt clicks into place as she turns back around to face us.

  “I have eclectic tastes, and some of them may not make sense to you—not yet, anyway. So as you look around, try to see things with an open mind,” Morgan urges.

  I can’t stop my eyebrows from creeping downward as I take in every detail with newfound leeriness. To the casual observer, it looks like any other ordinary worship house—big aisle down the middle, podium toward the back. Plenty of the Greek and Roman worship stories cast across the windows. But the closer I look, the stranger the decor. Candles adorn many of the flat surfaces, and herbs dangle freely from doorways and in corners. Light streams in from the stained glass windows, maintaining the space’s hallowed ground vibe. On the floor, leaning up against the wall are paintings of—I’m not sure what. A man bleeding and dangling from a cross—but more than that. He looks like he’s actually nailed to it.

  “What’s there to freak out about?” Mike asks, scratching his head. “Looks pretty standard to me.”

  Clearly he hasn’t noticed the paintings.

  “What is this place?” I demand.

  Morgan shrugs sheepishly, “It’s sorta complicated.”

  “I don’t get it,” Mike mutters, taking a seat on one of the benches.

  “Even if I tried to explain, it won’t make sense. Not now, but it will,” she says, watching us closely.

  “How many of you stay here?” I can’t help but ask, my eyes wide as I peer around looking for signs of others.

  If there are others, are they as unusual as Morgan? Maybe I should have done what Thea did and gotten as far away from these two as possible.

  “It’s just the two of us,” Morgan begins, “at least, for now.”

  “For now?” I say, meandering down the central aisle toward the altar space.

  “Well, I don’t know how long any of you will be here” she says.

  “Oh, I don’ think we’ll be here all that long,” Mike says.

  “You might be surprised,” she whispers.

  “Where’s the other one?” I press, narrowing my gaze.

  “I don’t know. He was here when I left,” she says, placing her keys in a dish on the top of a small hall table.

  “What if he vanished too?” I ask, rubbing my middle finger down one of the bench backs, removing a thick layer of dust.

  My mind is a strange mixture of exhaustion, curiosity, and an untamed anger that’s continuing to build.

  How can any of this be happening?

  “He didn’t,” she says confidently.

  “How do you know?” Mike asks.

  “Because he’s special,” Morgan says, her voice trailing off.

  “You sure you don’t wanna look for him?” Mike says. “Where would he go?”

  Morgan shakes her head and swipes a hand out in front of her. “He’ll come back. Of that, I have no doubt.”

  We stand in silence for a moment, each probably suspended in our own inner worlds as we process the past few hours. I take a seat in one of the benches, hunching forward to place my elbows on my knees as I clutch the top of my head.

  “This… this can’t be happening,” I say to no one in particular.

  Morgan takes a seat beside me, placing her hand gently on my back. A strange sensation rolls through my spine, but I can’t bother to look up.

  “It’s a lot to process, I know,” she whispers.

  I tighten my fingers, pulling on my thick, brown hair, wishing I could pull it all out. Maybe it would make me feel better.

  “You make it sound like you’ve been through this before,” I mutter.

  “I have,” she says, sitting back. “Sorta.”

  “Oh.”

  I remove my hands and look up at her.

  Morgan’s petite frame somehow feels bigger than life. It’s as though there’s much more to her than meets the eye, yet I can’t quite put a finger on why.

  “I’ve sorta, well, I’ve learned there’s more to life than just… this,” she says, searching for words.

  “There always has been,” I say, flicking my eyebrows up.

  A hole burgeons in my chest. What if I never get the chance to tell Cassidy
how much I truly love her? We’ve been through so much together and even now, I can’t imagine a world without her.

  “True, but it’s a lot more obvious now,” Morgan whispers.

  “How did you learn to cope?” Mike asks, taking a seat in a worship bench across the aisle.

  Morgan glances up at him, then casts her gaze to the intricate pattern on the carpet.

  “It’s hard to explain,” she begins, “but I guess I sorta realized I’d been asleep. I mean, I was still walking around, living life, but my mind—it wasn’t awake. It was on autopilot, and I was just a witness to the bizarre programming it felt compelled to act out. Then, one day, I woke up and it all had changed. Everything. I hadn’t lost people per se, but I… I was suddenly gifted the opportunity to see things more clearly.”

  “Why do you think that happened?” Mike asks, leaning forward.

  “I think the both of you have to learn that on your own,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek.

  Mike and I exchange confused, concerned glances.

  “Do you know why this has happened,” I say, sitting up straighter.

  Morgan’s eyes widen, but she tips her chin.

  “Then tell us—what the world is going on?” I say, twisting in my seat.

  “This experience isn’t mine to tell,” she says, biting her lip.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. If you know, it’s your obligation to shed some light,” I say, standing up. My agitation is palpable, and I clench my fists.

  Even if Morgan wasn’t sitting, I would tower over her. While my current stature and anger could make even Cassidy cower, I get the distinct impression Morgan’s presence is more vast than the tiny body of hers can contain.

  My eyes widen as I attempt to grasp what I’m feeling and why. Without meaning to, I take a step back.

  “You’re beginning to sense it already, aren’t you?” she says, eyeing me closely.

  I shiver and sit back down.

  “I…I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I mumble.

  “You won’t—not for a while—but the process has already begun. Give it a little time. You’re going through the same shift as I did.”

  Suddenly, the lock in the wooden door clicks to life, and the hinges groan open. Morgan springs to her feet.