The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions Book 2)

by Dima Zales

  It must be the overflow of emotion because the sense of loss I feel is intense. “We lost our powers?” I say in disbelief.

  “Yes. For a while,” Thomas says. “Not forever.”

  “So it’s not permanent?” The wave of relief is nearly as powerful as my sense of loss a second ago.

  “No, it’s not. When you die in the Mind Dimension, it’s a lot like using up your time, only the Inertness lasts much longer,” Eugene explains.

  “I’ve never run out of time in the Quiet before,” I say, and I hear the note of unease in my voice. Logically, I know that temporarily losing my powers is in no way comparable to dying, but it still feels frightening. The Quiet has been my security blanket, a safety net I’ve used since childhood, and I feel its loss keenly.

  “I understand, Darren.” Hillary gives me a sympathetic look. “Like you, I’ve never run out of time, so I can’t even imagine what that would be like. I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

  “He’ll be fine. It’ll come back,” Thomas says. He doesn’t seem overly concerned about his own loss of powers, but then again, his are more limited than mine or Hillary’s.

  As he speaks, something occurs to me. “So is this why you were so cavalier when you pointed that gun at me yesterday?” I ask, staring at Mira. That never made sense to me. Not after I saved her life the day before. “You weren’t threatening to kill me. You were threatening to strip me of my power?”

  “Right,” she says. “Honestly, I was just bluffing. I wasn’t really going to make you Inert. Not given what I knew about your insane Depth. I’m sorry about that whole incident. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were actually scared for your life.” She pauses, then adds, “Most likely.”

  The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. “So that’s why Eugene said that weird shit about not shooting me because I can spend months in the Mind Dimension?”

  “Yeah.” Eugene nods. “It would’ve been a sacrilege to take away so much power. I couldn’t let her do it. She can be cranky when she wakes up, so I didn’t even realize she was bluffing.”

  I blow out a relieved breath. So it wasn’t that Eugene wanted to use me, as I’d originally thought. He had been aware of the true cost of death in the Quiet all along and was simply trying to protect me.

  Everything starts to make sense now. When Caleb said during our Joining that dying in the Quiet has a lasting effect, he didn’t mean death; he meant the Pusher would be Inert. This also explains Caleb’s slightly odd thought about it being time to ‘begin’ killing the Pusher. He must’ve meant that step one was making the man Inert. Without powers, it must be much easier to dispatch one of us outside the Quiet. And this is why Caleb tried to phase into the Quiet from not too far away. Once the Pusher was killed in the Quiet and therefore rendered Inert, Caleb, who still possessed his powers, would’ve made short work of him.

  I’m still not solid on the details, but things are beginning to be clearer.

  “How long will it take me to recover?” I ask.

  “It varies for everyone,” Eugene says.

  “Wait,” Thomas says, turning toward me. “Hold on a second. Is your ‘Depth’ the same thing we call Reach? And if so, are you saying that yours is months? You never mentioned this, Darren.”

  I shrug, still thinking about my Inert state, but Hillary smiles proudly. “He is my nephew, after all.”

  “Is this why you didn’t run when I asked you to?” Mira stares at me, her eyes shining. “You thought we were in mortal danger?”

  “Well, yeah,” I admit, somewhat embarrassed. “I couldn’t just leave you there. Sam was right on our heels. I didn’t realize you were trying to save my powers.”

  “I was actually trying to end her suffering,” Mira explains, glancing at Hillary.

  “Thank you,” my aunt says.

  There is a moment of silence as everyone seems to relive those terrifying moments.

  “So what’s with this car crash?” I ask finally. “How does that fit into everything?”

  “That’s my fault,” Thomas says. “The shock of dying and then finding myself behind the wheel again was too much, so I rear-ended that guy.”

  “I took care of that driver,” Hillary says. “He’ll think he backed into a fire hydrant.”

  “You keep saying that you took care of things,” Mira says. “But you’re not explaining what you did or how you did it. What’s happening on that bridge?”

  “Oh, that. I Guided the mobsters to hold down your fellow Leachers—I mean, Jacob and Sam. The mobsters are probably moving in on them as we speak,” Hillary explains.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Eugene says through gritted teeth. “It’s been Jacob all this time.” In an uncharacteristic move for Eugene, he punches my seat in frustration. It doesn’t hurt, so I don’t say anything. I understand exactly how he feels.

  “Wait, it just occurred to me. The name Jacob,” Hillary says. “Didn’t you say that the name of the person on the phone was Esau?”

  “Yes,” I say. “So?”

  “Jacob and Esau were brothers in the Scripture. The guy practically gave you a hint as to who he is,” Hillary says.

  “So Jacob ordered that explosion,” Mira says slowly, and I realize that this fact is only now beginning to dawn on her. “It was a Reader who ruined our lives, not a Pusher.”

  “Yes, it was Jacob using an alias of Esau,” I confirm softly. “He ordered Arkady to use the explosives.” Mira’s entire world must be turning upside down. Pushers are not her enemies, while Readers, her own people, seem to be.

  “I don’t understand.” Eugene sounds bewildered. “There was definitely a Pusher involved. He pops up in many of the gangsters’ memories.”

  “There must be more to this,” Hillary says. “After the police question everyone involved, we can access their files. Maybe something will turn up.”

  “What police?” Mira’s voice gets soft. Dangerously soft. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m about to call them,” Hillary explains. “That’s the part of the plan that’s now different. Easier, in fact. The gangsters should be able to hold those two Leachers down, and instead of us calling our Guide friends, I’ll let the cops handle this. Guides are not equipped to deal with Leachers. They’ll kill them, and I can’t have that. Don’t worry, though. Unlike Guides, Leachers can’t get out of jail. Right?” she says, apparently missing the hard gleam in Mira’s eyes.

  “No fucking way—”

  Mira’s harsh words get interrupted by the sound of distant gunfire. One shot is followed by several in rapid succession.

  Hillary turns pale.

  Mira’s head whips toward the bridge, and I see her coming to a swift decision. Before I can say anything, she springs into action. She opens the door, presses the door lock button, slams the door shut behind her, and begins running toward the bridge.

  “Fuck!” Thomas fumbles with the lock. “I told you she’d be a liability.”

  I frantically unbuckle my seatbelt to go after her.

  “Stop her,” Thomas barks at Hillary as he finally unlocks the doors. “You’re the only one who can.”

  “I can’t,” Hillary objects. “She’s got a gun. She could shoot a civilian if I try to use them.”

  “This is not the time for pacifism.” I don’t see the expression on my aunt’s face, but I hear Thomas curse and then say, “Fine. Improvise something. You there, hand me that rifle—”

  I don’t hear Eugene’s response because I open the door and start running after Mira. Immediately, I’m reminded of the fact that I’m no longer in the Quiet. The cars around us are moving at full speed, and I almost get run over twice before I reach the sidewalk. When I hear screeching brakes, I attempt to phase in, but it’s futile. I can’t go into the Quiet.

  I’ve been Inert less than five minutes, and I already hate it.

  “I was barely able to control that last car, you know,” a cab driver says cryptically from his window as I run
past him. He’s wearing a turban and speaking with a slight Indian accent. I’m pretty sure I’ve never met him. “You’re my blood relative, Darren, and I desperately want you to live. Please be careful.”

  My attention shifts from the strange cabby to the road I just crossed as I hear loud honking, followed by a thump. Glancing back, I see Eugene on the ground in front of a car. My heart skips a beat, but I don’t stop.

  I have to get to Mira.

  As I get close to the bridge, I see a crowd of people rushing toward me. It must be Hillary’s improvised Guided evacuation. Here and there, I notice familiar faces—people I’d Read and Guided myself.

  At my approach, the crowd parts, leaving a wide path for me. It’s odd, but it serves me, so I don’t question it.

  “Darren, hurry, she’s almost there,” says an old lady as I run onto the boardwalk-like portion of the bridge.

  “It’s me, Hillary, by the way,” a little kid says as he runs by me. “Why do you look so shocked?”

  Now I get it. The cabby, the old lady, the people giving me room to run, and now the kid. Hillary is Guiding these people to aid me, and she’s giving me messages through them. I’d be very impressed if I weren’t in such a panic.

  Then I hear tires screech behind me again.

  “A car almost hit Thomas. He’s okay, though. Still running your way. Eugene is also okay; he just hurt his leg. He might not make it there in time,” the buff guy with PTSD says as I pass by him.

  Before I get a chance to feel reassured, there is a strange wail. At least a hundred people all around the bridge scream in unison like some hellish chorus, “No, Mira, don’t!”

  And then the people in front of me fall to the ground. What makes that move extra-spooky is that they do it simultaneously, like they were all stricken with some deadly poison at the exact same moment.

  This gives me a clear view of what’s about the happen—a view that explains why Hillary made them do that. She wouldn’t give so many civilians bruises without good cause.

  On the far end of the bridge, I see two large men fighting. Fighting to the death, by the looks of it.

  One of them I recognize instantly. It’s Arkady, the psychopath from the banya. He must be under Hillary’s control. The other one is Sam.

  The fury that gripped me earlier returns as I see Sam holding the same knife that he threw at Mira in the Quiet.

  And then I register what Mira is doing.

  This is what Hillary wanted me so desperately to see.

  Mira is aiming her gun at the two fighting men.

  In that instant, I also take in the rest of the scene. On the ground next to Sam and Arkady, two of Arkady’s men are holding down Jacob. The rest of the mobsters, including the one who tried to shoot me the other day, are lying on the ground bleeding. Those must’ve been the shots we heard. The gangsters were probably shot trying to get Sam’s and Jacob’s guns away from them—and it looks like they succeeded.

  “Mira, there is no need to kill anyone!” Arkady screams as he continues wrestling with Sam. Hillary must be speaking through his mouth as well.

  Sam grunts and yells out in response, “Mira, stop him, and you and your brother will be welcomed with open arms in our community! This man is being controlled by a powerful Pusher. I need your help. Jacob needs your help. Shoot him! Now!”

  “It’s you I’m going to kill first, not him,” Mira hisses, her aim unwavering. “And Jacob—I’m going to make him suffer.” And with that, she squeezes the trigger.

  At the deafening gunshot blast, Sam rapidly twists his body, and it’s Arkady’s head that explodes into little pieces instead of his own.

  As I watch all this, I continue running.

  Mira, unfazed by her miss, shoots at Sam. To my horror, Sam does the rolling thing he did in the Quiet. Only he does it even faster, avoiding Mira’s bullet with uncanny precision. He seems to have started moving before Mira even squeezed the trigger. And then I understand: he can phase into the Quiet. He must be using that ability to anticipate Mira’s movements.

  Mira begins to back away toward me, still shooting in Sam’s direction. Sam rolls again and stabs one of the Russians who are holding Jacob. There is a loud scream as his knife connects with the gangster’s shoulder.

  “Stop it, you insane Leacher! Stop or you’ll be killed,” the injured man screams, letting go of Jacob to clutch at his shoulder. Ignoring his words, Sam stabs the man again, this time in the heart.

  “Okay, fine,” the guy rasps out, blood bubbling up on his lips as he falls to the ground. “You leave us no choice.”

  That’s Hillary talking, I remind myself again.

  “Darren, move to the right!” yells a chorus of civilians who are lying on the ground around me. My aunt again. “Now!”

  Without thinking, I jump to the right and immediately hear a gunshot. Glancing back, I see Thomas standing a dozen yards away with a rifle in his hands. When I turn back to the scene ahead, I see Sam falling, with the top of his head blown into pieces.

  “Now, you fucking stay down, Leacher,” the other Russian who was holding Jacob says. I can’t believe it’s Hillary again. She sounds utterly cold. I guess if anyone could drive my pacifist aunt to bloodlust, Sam was the guy.

  And then I realize she’s not gloating at Sam being shot. She’s talking to Jacob. He’s managed to free himself from the Russian’s hold and is reaching for the knife Sam dropped when he died.

  “Mira, you’re in Thomas’s way,” the Russian says. “Move, so he can take the shot.”

  I raise my own gun, but this time I’m somewhat reluctant to pull the trigger. If this were Sam, I would’ve shot him without a second thought. But this is Jacob. He knew my father. He can give me answers about my family.

  Instead of moving as Hillary commanded, Mira is also raising her gun. She’s apparently determined to kill Jacob on her own.

  Taking aim, she squeezes the trigger.

  Instead of a bang, there is a quiet click. Jacob is still standing there, unharmed.

  Her gun is out of bullets.

  Jacob blinks. He looks almost surprised to still be alive. Then he looks at the knife in his hand and, grabbing it by the blade, raises it over his shoulder.

  I’m gripped by a horrible sense of déjà vu. He’s raising the knife for a throw at Mira—just like Sam did in the Quiet.

  This can’t be happening again.

  I won’t let it.

  Without thinking even a second longer, I shoot. The knife is still in Jacob’s hand, so I fire again and again. Mindlessly. Furiously.

  I don’t stop squeezing the trigger until I’m out of bullets.

  As the haze of rage clears from my mind, I see that the knife is no longer in Jacob’s hand. It’s on the ground, and so is the man himself, his chest covered with blood.

  Numb, I stand there and stare at the man I killed, one thought foremost in my mind.

  Mira is okay. That’s all that matters.

  “Let’s go, Darren,” the people lying around me chant in Hillary-Guided chorus. “It’s time to go.”

  Shaking off my stupor, I begin to head back, only to realize that Mira is not with me. Instead of following me, she’s walking to where Jacob’s body is lying. Reaching him, she starts going through his pockets. Then she picks up another gun off the ground and shoots Jacob in the head.

  I wonder if that means my own shots didn’t kill him—and then I wonder why I care either way. He was about to kill Mira. How could I not shoot?

  Her grisly task accomplished, Mira picks up the briefcase Jacob had been holding earlier—the one that flew open in the Quiet but is still intact here—and walks toward me.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she says, her face pale and resolute.

  I look at her without comprehension.

  “It’s over,” she says gently. “Now we go.” And looping her arm through mine, she starts pulling me away.

  As we walk, the enormity of what just occurred dawns on me. Arkady, Sam, Jacob, th
e other Russian mobsters—they’re all dead, and we were nearly killed ourselves. To say that I’m pushing the limits of my ability to cope with seeing Mira nearly die would be a massive understatement.

  Lost in thought, I let her steer me toward Thomas, who’s standing there waiting for us. Eugene is limping our way as well, looking extremely relieved to see Mira and everyone else intact.

  “Good work,” Thomas says to me as we approach. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t take my own shot. She was in the way.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, feeling incredibly drained.

  “You,” Thomas says, looking at Mira and shaking his head. “You’re the most reckless woman I’ve ever met.”

  She doesn’t respond. For the first time since I’ve known her, she looks subdued. Serene, almost.

  Thomas’s black van, now with a broken bumper, is waiting by the curb as we head back to the road. Some guy I’ve never met is sitting behind the wheel.

  “I don’t know how to drive,” Hillary explains from the back seat. “So I had this guy bring the car over.”

  “Thanks,” Thomas says. “He can go now.”

  “Thank you, Robert,” Hillary says to the driver. “Your car is where you left it. You can go.”

  The guy gets out and starts walking away, a blank look on his face.

  “Well, don’t just stand there.” Hillary motions for us to get in. “It’s over. Now let’s get out of here.”

  Her words prompt everyone into action. Thomas gets behind the wheel, and we all get inside.

  I look back as we drive away and see people still running away from Brooklyn Bridge.

  Chapter 29

  As we drive uptown, I realize that I need to pull myself together. The drained feeling is overwhelming.

  “I killed someone again,” I finally say, speaking to no one in particular. “I really didn’t want to.”

  “Don’t feel bad about that,” Mira says. “That fucker killed our parents. And possibly your parents, too. Besides, you just shot him. I’m the one who actually killed him.”

  So Jacob wasn’t dead when Mira got there.

  “I don’t know if that helps,” I say. “I knew him, you know. That makes it different, somehow.”