by David Beers
I’m dead.
All of the thoughts from earlier didn’t matter when she got right down to it, because even though her consciousness had somehow survived, her body was no more. On Earth, her home, she was no more.
The most obvious question came then: Where am I?
Deep and pervasive fear took root as the question bred an answer. She remembered everything that had happened, going underneath the river, the war above, the Beyond coming to her when she closed her eyes. She remembered that singular, maddening question coming back to her—the one she couldn’t find an answer to before.
What does It want?
She had found her answer in the river, though. She found out what It wanted.
She remembered, and then she knew where she was.
Rachel Veritros had joined the Unformed.
Her mind grew still and unimaginable fear gripped her. For she, even if no one else, knew what she had done in that river. Facing death, understanding that to reject the Union would destroy everything her life meant, she had gone forward.
What she didn’t know, though, was that she would end up here.
Inside the Unformed.
In her mind’s stillness, she could feel It. There was nothing to see—at least not for her—but she recognized she was inside of Its mind, and that Its mind actually possessed a physical body. She didn’t know if it was the off-white orb she’d seen so many times, or if that was only a representation of It; either way, she had become a thought inside of Its mind, perhaps even an echo of herself.
Does It know I’m here?
Yes, It did. She thought It had simply treated her as a thought. Something that came and went, lived briefly, and then died in the recesses of Its brain.
Before, Rachel Veritros had thought she understood the Unformed’s vastness, but she’d known nothing. Now, less than a human’s synapse inside It, she understood she was nothing to It. The creature had swallowed her whole, brought her into Itself, and immediately almost forgot about her.
There wasn’t even any need to fear living here—at least no reason to fear It; the Unformed would likely never give thought to her again.
Time passed for Veritros, though that word is mostly a non-applicable concept. It is better, probably, to simply say she existed inside the Unformed.
Perhaps an example will help: for humanity, a hundred years passed, and then another hundred, and then another. Rachel knew nothing of years, and came to sit in the silence of her own mind quite easily. No heaven, no hell—nor any other human invention. There was only endlessness, and despite her mind’s expansion, for a long, long time, there was nothing to contemplate.
So, Rachel Veritros entered a period of hibernation.
She might not have ever ventured out of it, simply sinking deeper and deeper into the Unformed’s mind. Maybe she would have lost herself completely and become one with It.
Something happened, though, and it pulled her from her slumber. At the time, she didn’t know the reason for it, whether an outside influence sparked inside of her, or whether her mind had simply churned unconsciously until it hit on something.
Later, she would know with certainty what caused it.
Rachel Veritros awoke inside the Unformed. She wasn’t worried about bringing attention to herself, as it was similar to yelling inside a locked room—a room that occupied a house with a trillion other rooms.
She awoke and the spark inside her grew larger. This was the same woman who had first walked into the wilderness, then back into civilization, fostering a revolution and nearly destroying an entire planet—all to meet her master and then burn down everything she’d created. A woman unlike perhaps any to ever be born before, and even inside an infinite creature’s mind, her resolve and ruthlessness grew in ferocity.
The spark that woke her was a thought.
It will try again.
And then another.
Just like It did with you. It will try again.
Veritros understood the statement’s truth, and her hibernation ended. She had found another purpose, one as important as her last.
Rachel Veritros began to watch, waiting for the Unformed to move.
Time passed, though again, Rachel did not see it as such. She simply knew she was waiting for something, and she watched with a predator’s attentiveness. Her mind did not wander and her focus did not waver. She became humanity’s guardian, one they didn’t know existed and might not have deserved. She stood on a line, staring forever forward, and waited on the Unformed to cross it.
On Earth, nearly 600 years passed. Others might have gone insane in similar circumstances. An infinity of nothing, only sometimes receiving feeble traces of thoughts they couldn’t begin to understand from a creature that cared nothing for them.
Rachel waited, undeterred in the silence.
Finally, she felt it. The Unformed’s interest. It was distant at first, as if someone else was talking inside that trillion room house. Rachel felt it only because she had grown so attuned to the silence. The interest grew more intense, though, stronger and stronger until Rachel became slightly frightened.
She had never felt anything like it, not even when the Unformed had spoken to her.
There was nowhere to run, no barricade she could erect. She either remained on watch and continued existing … or didn’t. Those were the only two choices available to her.
The interest turned into will, and that almost broke her. She felt like a gnat flying underneath a waterfall, water pouring down on it and breaking its tiny wings, forcing it down into a river where it twisted and tumbled with the current.
Focus, she thought inside the overwhelming will. Focus and watch.
Gradually, she came to see what the Unformed wanted.
A boy. She couldn’t see his face because the Unformed didn’t view things in such terms. It was the boy’s essence—maybe his soul—that drifted down to her. As the Unformed’s understanding of him grew deeper, so did Rachel’s. To her, it was like smelling food cooking. She wasn’t going to eat the meal, but she knew a bit about it.
That’s how It chooses, she thought and then silenced her mind again, knowing that to think now would be to lose everything. She focused, needing to understand everything as clearly as possible if she were to have a chance.
The boy was younger than Rachel had been, but not as young as Abby. His age didn’t matter to the Unformed—Rachel wasn’t even sure It understood the concept of years. His mind’s maturity was what mattered, and Rachel realized that the Unformed had made this decision based on her. It wanted youth, something a bit more … untrained.
The boy was an orphan, and angry. Yet, she sensed love in him too, for his sister. Rachel studied everything, coming to understand the young boy. She saw what the Unformed did, and It wanted him. The boy was a survivor, and that was something Rachel and Abby hadn’t been. Rachel had turned into one, eventually, but she only learned that after the Unformed. This boy was practically born a survivor.
The Unformed wanted that.
She sensed innate intelligence, and an odd caring. Not the kind in which he would whisper a soft word or a hug, but the kind where he would lay down his life. It was either all or nothing for this boy.
Above everything, though, Rachel felt his anger. It ran through him like electricity, always an undercurrent, and always ready to explode if necessary.
He is an explosion, she thought. He is different than me, where I had resolve, he has fury. That’s why the Unformed wants him. The fury will drive him, propel him so that he can’t stop—ever.
The Unformed readied itself, and so did Rachel. An insignificant speck inside of It, her resolve had been set once again. She would find a way to stop this creature. No matter what, she would find a way.
Sixty-One
“I don’t understand,” Rhett heard Brinson say. “I don’t ….”
Her voice trailed off and she turned from Rhett to look out the front window. Rhett’s eyes were his again, no longer the Unform
ed’s gray. The other ships had fallen about 15 minutes ago, and Rhett had lowered back into his transport, then collapsed on the nearest chair.
No more gray strands dripped from his arms.
Brinson had started flying again as soon as he fell into his seat, though Rhett thought probably more out of survival instinct than any real thought. The ship was now rushing away from the city with no destination in mind.
That’s not true, he thought. You know where this thing is going.
The last thing David had told him before leaving fully.
Rhett sat with his eyes closed, remembering what it had felt like. Before David took over, he’d never realized his mind was like this very transport, one he controlled. When David had stepped in, though, his hands were ripped from the controls and he was shoved in the back—which was bad enough. The real pain, though—the outright terror—came when his brain understood what was happening: that it was no longer in charge. Insanity had taken over, a desperate need to regain mastery of itself.
Yet, Rhett hadn’t been able to. No matter how much he wanted control, he was forced to merely watch, though he could barely do that. The frantic need to take control again consumed everything, so even as the ships fell, Rhett barely saw them.
It wasn’t until he collapsed into the chair, breathing ridiculously hard, that he understood what had happened.
“What does it mean?” Reinheld asked. Leaning forward, eagerness across his face. “I mean, I felt that. It was almost like the Summoning, but … not exactly. What’s it mean?”
Rhett heard him turn around and finally opened his eyes. He was exhausted, his muscles trembling. He hadn’t even begun to process what it might have done to him physically—barely able to keep up with the mental portion.
“He’s alive,” Rhett said and then turned to look at Rebecca. “The Prophet lives.”
She sat across from him, but was staring to his side, out the window. Her eyes were wide and she looked lost and frightened, like a child waking up on the street of an unknown city.
“That’s not possible,” Brinson said from up front, her voice shaking. “I saw him die. It’s been almost two weeks. It’s not possible.”
Rhett didn’t take his eyes from Rebecca. It didn’t matter what the woman up front said, nor the other man sitting in this transport—even if he was one of the converted. Rhett and Rebecca knew the truth, and that’s why she now stared endlessly out the window, because she knew what was to come.
“We’re going to him,” Rhett said.
“What?” Brinson asked, whipping around in her seat. “No we’re not. If that’s what you’re thinking, get it out of your head.”
A small grin crossed Rhett’s face. “What do you think, Rebecca? Should we go see your brother?”
She said nothing, only stared forward with unsure eyes.
“Are you listening to me, damn it? We’re not going to him, even if he’s alive.”
The muscles in Rhett’s arms and legs were trembling, and all he wanted to do was sleep … but he knew he couldn’t—not for a long time. He had slept for the past two weeks, and now his Prophet was calling him. Sleep would wait, forever if need be. Rhett finally looked away from Rebecca and to the front of the ship. “Whatever you have to say, it doesn’t matter any longer. Look around you. You’ve rescued those that follow the Prophet, and the Prophet is alive. You’re outnumbered, and even if you count this traitor back here as one of yours, I promise, the one I follow will ensure neither of you ever take another breath before he allows harm to befall me. So, Sister Brinson, you can choose to do as I say, or you can face the consequences.”
The woman stared at him and Rhett saw understanding falling on her like rain from above, soaking her features. She had thought, at the very least, that she could control those in here. They had been dependent on her for their very lives. Perhaps the True Faith would murder her for what she’d done—but Rhett didn’t give a damn what reasons caused her to do it. Maybe he would have if things had gone differently the past hour, but with David returned, what these infidels wanted no longer mattered.
The Unformed would come. The Union would happen.
And the woman now saw how little control she possessed.
She looked to Reinheld with tears in her eyes.
Rhett followed her gaze, not knowing how that would play out. Clearly the woman felt for him, had risked everything to save him—but Reinheld was sworn. He’d taken the Blood.
And so did Rebecca. Don’t forget that.
Reinheld nodded to the woman, approving Rhett’s message. He remembered his duty.
“Go ahead and put in the coordinates I just gave you,” Rhett said, his nano having sent them to her.
She stared out the window for a few seconds, not moving. Finally, though, Rhett saw her eyes light as she fed the ship what he wanted.
He looked back to Rebecca. “Have any thoughts on the matter?” Rhett could still see the red marks across her neck from where he’d strangled her. He was glad that he’d listened to Brinson, though he hadn’t had much choice. He wouldn’t have risked Christine’s life, even to kill Rebecca.
He hadn’t killed her though, and now David would take care of it. In a much more painful way, Rhett was sure.
Rebecca finally looked at him, and Rhett saw the tears floating over her eyes. He didn’t know if fear or regret caused them, and he truly didn’t care.
“It really was him, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Rhett nodded.
Rebecca did too, though Rhett thought it was to herself. Affirming what she’d already known.
“No,” she said, her voice almost watery. “I guess I don’t have any thoughts, Rhett.”
“You know what he said before he let go?” Rhett asked.
Rebecca stared forward, waiting for his answer.
Rhett smiled. “He said, ‘Bring her to me’.”
She looked away and stared outside the transport’s window.
Rebecca might not have said much to Rhett, telling him she didn’t have any thoughts on the matter—but that was a lie. Rebecca was filled with thoughts, and despite what Rhett might think, they weren’t concerned with herself.
Rebecca watched the buildings in the distance, Brinson having taken the ship away from any major cities. They were tilted up and heading toward one of the True Faith’s exits. Rebecca had no idea how they would get by security, but she also didn’t care.
The Prophet lives.
That’s what Rhett had said, and she’d known it was true. She hadn’t needed Rhett’s confirmation. Rebecca had felt the same thing he did, and then she’d watched the strands climb his arms and his eyes turn gray as if he was David.
Only Rhett could never be David, nor the Prophet.
Rhett couldn’t make her blood itch in an indescribably pleasant way.
Rhett, like her, was only a servant at David’s feet—and now their master had returned.
You failed, she thought. You failed and now it’s too late.
Maybe not. You weren’t the one who began this, so don’t start thinking you’re the one in charge of it.
No, Rebecca hadn’t started this. Revelation was given to her. So maybe there was hope yet.
Not for you, though.
Finally the selfish part of her mind spoke up, telling the truth. She was being brought to her brother, the man she had tried to kill, and she knew he would have no mercy. During her captivity, with everything she had told that Priest, wasn’t that the overall theme? David’s hate made him merciless. Rebecca was heading to her death, one more certain than what she’d faced under the True Faith’s captivity.
Rebecca closed her eyes and did her best to block out the world around her. She could still hear the air propulsion system humming along outside, but that helped mask any of the noises inside the transport.
Remember, she thought. Remember what was revealed.
Rebecca wished more than anything that the voice would return. She hadn’t heard it in five years, no
t since she first started down the path that led her to this transport. Rebecca could find solace in that voice, even now, because she knew the truth behind it.
When she had thought David dead, remembering that voice caused Rebecca fear. Because she had a feeling that David might not cease existing, but might join the Unformed. Just as the owner of the voice had a thousand years ago.
More than anything, Rebecca wished Rachel Veritros would come to her now. If not to tell her what to do, then to give her some comfort on the way to her death.
The sky was gray, but no longer with static. Rain clouds floated above, heavy and blocking any blue that was beyond them—yet, the rain clouds were infinitely better than what had been there before.
David had retreated across the beach and beneath the trees lining it. The rain was going to come and he would be here for a day or two, depending on how quickly Rhett could get to him.
An hour had passed since David saw the woman and he was still trying to come to grips with everything happening around him. Not just her—but his own ‘death’, his resurrection, the state of his revolution, and his sister.
An hour wasn’t nearly enough time to come to terms with with it all.
He lay on the sand, his head on a rock, and stared up at the sky.
David didn’t understand what had happened up there. He’d gone to the girl, frightened of her power, and stood before her. What she’d done inside that building … he had never even considered it possible.
Time had stopped, or come as close to it as possible. The girl wasn’t ripping through physical objects or burning people alive with her power. She had …
What? What is it that you saw?
David had been connected to her in a way that grew beyond intimacy. They weren’t exactly a single entity, but they’d been close to it.
Then what? What did she do?
He didn’t know how it was possible, but he wasn’t going to deny what he’d seen and felt. Time, in that building, had stopped. She and he the only entities still flowing through the space-time continuum at a normal pace.