The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions Book 2)

by Dima Zales

  “You should talk to Liz once everything settles down,” Thomas recommends. “She can help.”

  Yes, talk to my therapist. That would be a good start. But I need something else right now. Something more immediate.

  I need some information and some time to think things through.

  “Can someone please tell me who the hell those men were?” Thomas inquires. “The people we just killed. What the hell was all that about? They were some of yours, obviously . . . Some Leachers, weren’t they?”

  “They were Readers,” I say, emphasizing the proper term. I don’t like double standards, and if Hillary and Thomas want to be called Guides rather than Pushers, they should return the favor. “The big bodyguard type you shot was one of their top security personnel, and the older, less-threatening-looking one that I killed—or Mira killed—was Jacob, that community’s leader.”

  “Okay. But we came to get one of us—a rogue Guide,” Thomas says patiently. “What happened? How did you guys get it so wrong?”

  “Darren, do you want to play the detective?” Mira suggests. “Your guess is going to be as good as mine.”

  “Well,” I say slowly, trying to think through the fog still filling my mind, “it sounds like Jacob killed your family because of your father’s research. Because Jacob was a Purist, the research your father was doing might’ve been unacceptable to him.” That’s the only thing that makes sense to me, at least.

  “What’s a Purist, and what is this research?” Thomas asks.

  “Purists sound a lot like the Reader version of Traditionalists,” I explain, amazed to be the one who has the answers for once.

  “And my brother’s research is none of Pushers’ business,” Mira says before her brother can start going into an explanation.

  “But what about the Guide we went to see in the first place?” Hillary says, confused. “You’re saying there was no such Guide?”

  “No,” I say. “That’s the weird part. Mira found signs of a Guide when she researched her parents’ murder. And she wasn’t the only one. I saw signs of a Guide when we were rescuing Mira the other day, and again when that nurse tried to kill me. That means that unequivocally, there’s one involved. Maybe he was working with Jacob?”

  “Working together?” Hillary says. “I doubt our Traditionalists would even talk to a Reader, let alone work with one.”

  “Same for our Purists,” Eugene says.

  “Be that as it may, evidence seems to suggest otherwise,” I say. “In Arkady’s mind, I saw the Pusher erasing Arkady’s memories of Jacob sanctioning some hits. That would only make sense if they were working as a team.”

  “If they did team up, it would be a hypocrisy of unbelievable proportions,” Hillary says. “Traditionalists are the very people who hate Readers the most, and I’m guessing the same applies to their Purist brethren.”

  “Purists hate you people with an almost religious fervor,” Eugene confirms. “Working with a Pusher would be like making a deal with the devil for them.”

  “Maybe these two joined forces to fight an even bigger devil,” I speculate. “A temporary alliance, perhaps? I mean, we saw today how powerful a team of Readers and Guides can be. Maybe they united for some common cause . . . like to kill me—the abomination.”

  “I don’t know about that. After all, you didn’t exist to them until recently,” Eugene says. “Unless their union goes way back to your parents’ time—which is possible, I suppose. But getting rid of my father’s—and now my—research is a more likely motivation.”

  “So you mean I’m not done.” Mira sounds more weary than angry. “You think there’s another person, a Guide, who had something to do with our parents’ death.”

  “I think I speak for everyone when I say you can call that person a Pusher, Mira,” I say. “But my intuition tells me that Jacob is the one to blame for your parents’ death. After all, he was the one who ordered the hit on them.”

  “You’re more than done, Mirochka,” Eugene chimes in. “You killed the people directly responsible for it. It’s time to move on. Start to live your life again.”

  “He’s right,” I say. “Let Guides deal with that Traditionalist Pusher problem. Let me deal with it. Maybe it’s as simple as ratting out this Pusher to his fellow Traditionalists. They might not approve of his allegiances. What do you think, Hillary?”

  “That could work. Let me think about that,” Hillary says pensively.

  Mira just sits there quietly, her expression unreadable. I guess she has a lot to mull over. I sure hope she decides that her revenge is officially over. I want that for her. I want her to go to college and become a nurse working with babies, regardless of how uncharacteristic of her that plan seems.

  What I don’t say is that my own quest for revenge is definitely not over. Jacob and the Pusher knew about me somehow. They knew even before I was born. I’m certain of it. They must be the reason my parents went into hiding—the reason why they gave me to Sara and Lucy to raise.

  It can’t be a coincidence that right after I saw Jacob, I was shot at by his pet mobsters. Nor is it a coincidence that a half hour after that, the Pusher found me in the hospital and tried to kill me. One must have told the other about me. Jacob must’ve noticed that I look like my father and told the Pusher about it. It might also explain the OB-GYN records that Bert mentioned disappearing. Maybe this is the first time my parents’ murderers realized my parents had a child. My birth mother’s medical records could’ve helped them verify that.

  “Darren, we should talk more about this,” Thomas says, breaking into my thoughts. “As soon as the dust settles a bit.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “There’s one more thing,” Mira says, reaching into her pocket. “Something that might help you, Darren. I found this.”

  She’s holding a small black object in her outstretched hand.

  “That’s the flash drive Jacob brought,” I say, understanding why she went through the dead man’s pockets before she shot him.

  “Yes. Except it’s encrypted, remember?” Mira says.

  “What’s supposed to be on there?” Thomas asks.

  “A list of targets the mob was supposed to kill for Jacob, and a list of witnesses that Arkady needed eliminated, I think,” I say. “You know, with hindsight, I can see how a Reader could have an easier time getting a list of witnesses like that compared to a Guide.”

  “Indeed. With hindsight, a lot of things become obvious,” Hillary says. “The trick is to see them beforehand.”

  “Give me the drive, and I’ll get some people in the Service to try to crack it,” Thomas offers.

  “I’ll give it to Darren,” Mira says. “Whatever he decides to do with it is fine with me.”

  “I’ll send you a copy,” I say to Thomas. “But I have a friend who’ll likely crack this thing faster than any of your experts.”

  The problem will be explaining to Bert why I’m having him crack this code. It might be tricky, but I’m sure I’ll manage it.

  “Okay, so now let’s talk about what happened,” Thomas says, looking at Hillary in the mirror. “Are we now fugitives from the law? How bad was it down there on the bridge?”

  “Not too bad,” my aunt says, sounding tired. “No one will remember any of us being there, for starters.”

  “That’s good,” Thomas says approvingly. “What about evidence? Did we leave any DNA on the scene?”

  “I just twisted my ankle,” Eugene says. “So no blood.”

  “Everyone else?” Thomas asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Not a scratch.”

  “Same here,” Mira echoes.

  “And obviously, I never left the car in the real world,” Hillary says. “Only in the Mind Dimension.”

  “Good. We might not go to jail after all.” Thomas looks relieved. “Now give me your guns. I’ll properly dispose of them.”

  We all place our guns in the back next to the rest of Thomas’s artillery stash.

  �
�Okay, I’ll keep an eye on the police investigation,” Thomas says when we’re done. “It might have to wait until I regain my abilities, but if needed, I’ll clean things up. Which brings me to the next bit of business. We all need to disappear for a while. Particularly those of us who are Inert.”

  “Disappear?” Eugene says nervously.

  “Yes, get out of town,” Thomas clarifies.

  That’s it, I realize. This is exactly what I need. A vacation. Some rest. Some time without being shot at.

  “How do you guys feel about Miami?” I say, my mood lifting a little. “I sure could use some time in the sun, with an umbrella drink in my hand.”

  “I can’t leave for a few days,” Hillary says, “and Florida is far from my favorite place, but I might join you there in a bit.”

  “I’ll pass. Liz and I will want to do our own getaway,” Thomas says. “But Miami for all of you will work out perfectly. This way, you can tell your friends and family the truth—that you’re taking a vacation. Darren, if you need help convincing your boss, Hillary and I can talk to him.”

  “No, it’ll be fine. Bill knows that awesome resources like me can sometimes do strange things like this. He won’t mind,” I say dismissively. Then, turning toward Mira, I say, “What do you think? Will you join me? It’ll be my treat, too.”

  “Oh, you forget.” The tiniest of smiles appears on Mira’s otherwise somber face. “I’m not broke anymore. It actually might be me taking you on vacation, not the other way around.”

  “What are you talking about?” Eugene gives his sister a puzzled look. “We are broke.”

  “This briefcase,” she says, pointing at her feet. “It’s filled with cash.”

  “Be careful with that.” Thomas frowns, looking at Mira in the mirror. “That money can be traced to you if someone knows what he’s doing.”

  “So we have a challenge, it seems. We’ll need to spend all the money in Miami,” Mira says. “And spend it as quickly as possible.”

  “I’m sure we can manage,” I say drily. “We’ll just have to drink a lot of champagne and get all-day spa treatments.”

  “The horror,” Mira says, her smile widening. “I see a lot of expensive shoes in my future. All that time I’ll have to waste shopping. Such a drag.”

  “If push comes to shove, you two can also go gambling,” Eugene adds, getting into the spirit of it. “The money you win will be clean.”

  “That’s a good way to launder money,” Thomas says, chuckling. “Using a cash business like that.”

  “And it’s only fitting,” Hillary says, looking at me and Mira. “Given how these two met for the first time.”

  I take out my phone and do a little online searching.

  “How’s tomorrow for a flight?” I say. “Is that too soon?”

  Mira shrugs. “Works for me.”

  “Sure,” Eugene says. “But can we stop by our old apartment?”

  “No,” Mira and I say in unison.

  “We don’t know if Arkady ordered someone to watch the place and wait for you,” I explain.

  “Fine,” Eugene says sadly. “Maybe some of that cash can go toward some new lab equipment.”

  “Maybe,” Mira says. “Do they have stores that sell that type of stuff for cash?”

  “I don’t know.” Eugene perks up a bit. “I’ll have to look into it.”

  “I’m booking the tickets now,” I say and begin navigating the airline’s website.

  “Okay, great,” Thomas says. “That takes care of that. Now I need to know where to take everyone.”

  “Well, I see that you’ve been driving toward my place,” Hillary says.

  “Yeah, I assumed—”

  “Good call,” Hillary says, interrupting Thomas. “You assumed correctly. I’m going home.”

  “I’d like to go back to the hotel. Pick up a few things and talk to—” Eugene starts saying and stops abruptly.

  “I’m sorry, Zhenya,” Mira says softly. “You can’t talk to her.”

  I look back and see Eugene’s face turn pale.

  He just connected the dots.

  Without Reading, I can tell what Eugene is thinking right now. He was part of an operation that resulted in the death of Jacob—Julia’s father. Whatever she is to him, it might be over now. He certainly can’t see her any time soon. I have to say, I feel really sorry for him. Hell, I feel sorry for Julia also. She didn’t seem to be best pals with her father, but I’m sure she’ll be hurt when she learns what happened.

  “If I may offer a piece of advice,” Thomas says. “The three of you should get a brand-new hotel for the night.”

  We take his suggestion and use the remainder of the way to Hillary’s place to decide on the hotel. We choose a nondescript one near the JFK airport. The logic is that a longer drive today will make our lives easier tomorrow when we fly out in the morning.

  “Bye, Darren,” Hillary says when the car stops. “Get in touch if you really meant it when you invited me to Miami.”

  “Of course I meant it,” I say. “Join me when you can.”

  Blowing me an air kiss, Hillary leaves.

  Thomas waits until she walks into her high-rise condo building and then starts driving.

  The atmosphere in the car is that of complete exhaustion. It seems all of us have been through so much that we need to digest things in silence. I myself am so drained, I can’t even think. Instead, I try to make my mind go blank and do the breathing meditation Sara taught me.

  A meditation that I now realize she must’ve learned from my father, her colleague Mark Robinson.

  As my breathing slows, I feel my eyes getting heavy, and I close them for a moment.

  * * *

  “Darren, wake up, we’re here.” Eugene’s voice penetrates my drowsiness, and I realize I must’ve dozed off.

  “I don’t think we’ll hear from each other for a while,” Thomas says, clearing his throat as I unbuckle my seatbelt. “But when things settle down, I’d love to hang out with you.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Thomas,” I say, opening the door. “Thanks for all you did for us today. I owe you.”

  “I, too, want to thank you,” Mira says. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

  Thomas looks as surprised as I feel. Mira sounds genuinely grateful. “You’re welcome, Mira,” he says, a bit uncomfortably.

  We get out of the car, and Thomas pulls away with one last wave.

  As we walk, I begin to feel more awake. Approaching the front desk at the hotel, I get three separate rooms for each of us.

  We ride the elevator in silence.

  “Yours is 505,” I tell Eugene when we reach his door. “Yours is 504,” I say to Mira. “And I’m in 503, right across the hall.”

  “Thank you, Darren,” Eugene says.

  “Sure, Zhenya,” I say, winking as I use Mira’s nickname for him.

  Mira doesn’t say anything, but as she takes the key from me, her fingers linger for a second, brushing against mine. Her touch is soft, sensual. Before I can say anything, though, she goes into her own room.

  I follow suit, entering my room.

  First order of business, I eat all the candy bars and peanuts from the minibar. I hadn’t realized how starved I was until this moment.

  Next, I take the longest shower of my life. As water streams over me, the tightness in my shoulders begins to fade. It’s all going to be fine, I tell myself, feeling revived by the hot water.

  As I towel off, I begin to feel a tinge of excitement for the trip to come. I love Miami—and Miami with Mira? That might be something else entirely.

  My musings are interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” I ask, wrapping the towel around my waist.

  “It’s me,” Mira says behind the door. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “No,” I say, opening the door and stepping back to let her in. “I was just taking a shower.”

  She comes into the room. Her hair is wet, and she’s
wearing a hotel bathrobe. She must’ve also just showered. Her face is clean and completely free of makeup, reminding me of the time I woke her up in her apartment in the Quiet.

  As she looks me up and down, I realize that I’m wearing only the towel. I don’t feel self-conscious at her stare, however. With all the time I invested in gym workouts, moments like this feel like payoff.

  “I came to say thanks for saving my life,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet my gaze. “And, well, for everything.”

  “Of course.” I grin at her. “I hope that means you’ll stop pulling a gun on me now.”

  “Yes, it does.” She grins back. “If you’re good, that is.”

  “Oh.” I lift my eyebrows. “And what about if I’m bad?”

  She steps closer, staring up at me. “If you’re bad, then I’ll find a way to deal with you,” she whispers and stands up on tiptoe to give my earlobe a playful nibble.

  I react instantly. This smallest of flirtatious gestures makes the towel around my hips begin to look like a tent.

  All my earlier tiredness forgotten, I wrap my arms around Mira’s back and lower my head to kiss her. The kiss is hungry, intense. It seems to last and last—all that near-death angst compacted into one moment.

  When she pulls away to catch her breath, we’re both panting and her hands are clinging to my shoulders.

  “I came here to thank you,” she murmurs, looking up at me, “and also to give your reward.”

  Stepping back, she unties the robe and lets it fall down to the floor.

  The night that follows is easily the most rewarding of my life.

  Sneak Peeks and FREE Books

  Thank you for reading! If you would consider leaving a review, it would be greatly appreciated.

  Darren’s story continues in The Enlightened (Mind Dimensions: Book 3), which will be available at most major retailers in 2015. In the meantime, you can read about Mira in a short story called The Time Stopper. It’s now available at all Amazon stores, including Amazon US (http://amzn.to/1BxILdP) and Amazon UK (http://amzn.to/1qsPwcF).