He looked down at her, and then followed her gaze out to the horizon. I think I can feel it too.
Something really bad, Mike added, stepping up beside them.
Let’s go inside, Ciara said pulling away, but Morris stood firm. She stopped, as she didn’t want to let go of his hand.
No. I have to see what it is, he said, his voice firm.
I don’t want to, came Ciara’s sad, desperate reply.
But there was no further time to consider their options as in her mind a terrible screaming began to build. It came from the recesses of her thoughts, like a screeching car that never stopped, growing in volume and intensity.
How come these guys haven’t picked it up? Like they did with Max, I mean? Morris asked, his telepathic voice becoming strained with the new worry that burdened him.
Because this has no physical form, unlike Max—it’s a psychic impression on the physical world, nothing more, Ciara responded immediately, without having to give any thought to her response at all.
Morris turned his head back toward the horizon, from where the entity appeared to be coming. Max had come from a different direction, and it had been almost exactly ninety degrees south from this point.
Ciara could feel it before she saw it; she could sense its mass in her mind. It wasn’t a physical presence that she was feeling, but that of a distinct personhood, and she reeled backward because she had never felt anything like it in her life; it was a truly horrible presence.
Morris caught her, his strong arm reaching around her waist, preventing her from falling to the deck.
She grimaced and looked upward again as the black mass appeared in the distance. The screeching continued. She raised her hands to her ears in a futile attempt to block out the psychic noise. It did nothing. She saw Morris and Mike do the same thing. The black mass grew quickly, and then it rushed upon their location in a matter of a few seconds. It stopped directly below the bottom rung of the Machine just as suddenly as Max had.
They took their hands away from their ears slowly as the screeching stopped. The formless black mist that bubbled beneath the bottom rungs of the Machine slowly took on the approximate shape of a human.
Ciara closed off her telepathic instincts as much as she could, for she could feel it prying at the corners of her mind almost immediately, looking for a way in. Suddenly, she saw a door in her imagination. It was made of the most beautiful wood she had ever seen, and around its perimeter was an ornate and intricate carved design. In her mind’s eye, electrical energy ran across the surface of the door, and then she watched in horror as the incredible, iridescent crystal knob that belonged to the door began to turn.
NO! she yelled, directing her psychic voice in every direction. Not in my mind. This place is sacred, and it’s mine alone. Don’t you dare!
In her mind’s eye, she grasped the handle fiercely with her will, but still it turned. In the outside world, she felt herself fall to her knees. She knew then that her telepathic strength was immense, for she could feel the presence pushing against her mind, testing her, and never in her life had she known anything as powerful—except perhaps for Max. But she had only witnessed his human form briefly. Previously, he had presented himself to them only as a specter—a ghostly figure.
In her mind’s eye, she reached out with both of her hands and grasped the handle. For a moment, it stopped, but then the electricity surged across the beautiful oak wood once again, and this time, pieces of it were ripped clear from the surface of the door. She screamed, still grasping the handle, and somehow found the strength to focus harder.
She stared into the beautiful crystal doorknob, concentrating fiercely. In the outside world, she could feel the pressure on her arms as both Mike and Morris held her, shouting in concern. She ignored them. She continued to stare into the crystal, and as she felt the dark presence groan behind the door, she found an inner well of strength she didn’t know existed. For a brief moment, she saw a golden sea—an ocean of pure psychic light—and she somehow knew that she could draw from it. She did that now.
The golden liquid obeyed her command, and she watched as it rose from the flowing ocean toward her. She directed it at the handle, infusing it into the crystal, and then she watched with growing delight as the handle easily turned back in the other direction.
The door creaked, the wood buckling under the strain, but with the strength of this sea of light rising up behind her, she reached out with her thoughts and reinforced the wood. The cracks that had opened began to solidify, and the bulges that had appeared in the door flattened out until once again, the oak looked perfect.
GET THE HELL OUT OF MY MIND! she screamed.
There was an explosion, and the door buckled once more. Ciara was thrown back from it, and all around, the golden, river-like energy scattered everywhere in a shimmering haze. The vision was broken, and she opened her eyes to the light of day to find Mike and Morris holding her arms on either side. She took a few deep breaths, blinking as she adjusted to the light. Her eyes had not been closed, she realized; apparently, she had entered some kind of trance.
“I’m fine,” she said, standing up, and with the help of her friends, she walked out to the edge of the ship. “It tried to scan my mind.” Morris and Mike stood on either side of her.
“Did if find what it was looking for?”
“No. I stopped it.”
“Why did it go after you? We’d be easier targets,” Mike said.
“It didn’t just want information. It wanted to test me. I think it wanted to see if it could get into my mind and control me, which would have been far more devastating. I think I have an idea of what could happen if things go badly here.”
“What?” Morris asked.
She turned toward him. “It’s just an idea, Morris. We’ll talk about it later. For the moment, I think it’s best to just say that it wanted to know the exact details of what happened here. It didn’t get it from me, so I think it’s going to—”
They all turned in unison as an incredible crackling sound erupted from inside the control room. Immediately, Morris ran in that direction, and Ciara followed him. Standing behind him, she caught a brief glimpse of the interior, and she saw that electrical arcs of energy were racing across the control panels that lined the room from front to back. A few of the computer terminals near the back of the room exploded in a shower of sparks. In the chaos that ensued, everyone inside rushed for the door, and the three backed away frantically, returning to the main area of the deck.
They fanned out again onto the deck, just as the screeching sound began once again, and this time, when they turned around, the black mass that appeared to have the rough, snaking form of a human turned upward. A second later, it shot up into the vortex. It passed through the window at the top, which still depicted the skyline of a city on earth. A ripple spread out, as though it had passed through a liquid mirror, and then the window was clear again.
Ciara frowned. “It’s gone. I can’t feel its presence at all.”
“Is that so unusual?” Mike asked.
“Yes. A few minutes ago, I could feel that thing from thousands of miles away. If it were still on earth—and judging from the window, it should be—then I should be able to feel its presence somewhere.”
“Maybe you burned yourself out, keeping it out of your mind,” Morris added.
“No. I don’t think so. Wherever it’s gone, it’s not here.”
“What do you mean, here?” he asked.
She frowned, took a breath, and looked back up into the vortex. “It’s hard to explain. I’m not quite sure, but I’m not sure if that window is leading back to…our earth.”
Morris looked at her intently, but she had no further answers for him, and seeming to know not to press her further, she saw him follow her gaze as she looked back up into the vortex.
CHAPTER 18
THE DARK
Jane had
been staring blankly at the security guard for a full two minutes, and she had no idea what to do. He was now gesticulating aggressively with his hands, and she was sure he was about to reach for what she presumed was a walkie-talkie that was fixed around his waist. She thought such a thing highly novel. She had not seen security personnel use anything so primitive since she was quite young. At most, in the present, she had seen such things sold as novelties for children, but even that was falling out of fashion.
She took slow, deep breaths and returned his gaze as steadily as she could. Still, despite her attempts to remain calm, she began to breathe heavily. Her pulse rose as panic welled up inside her. Then she heard his voice.
Jane—
It was Max, and it sounded as though he was coming from a million miles away through static.
She jerked her head to the right toward the tracks, where they rose up gently and then disappeared around a corner into the city. She frowned. Max?! Where are you?
—nearby.
I can barely hear you. She took a step in the direction of the outgoing track.
The security guard reached for the walkie-talkie.
Jane saw him move. She glanced to her left, flicked her hand upward, and reached out with the power, grasping his arm with incredible ease. It froze in place, and his head jerked down to it. He frowned, glaring at it and gasping, but it was stuck firmly and wouldn’t budge. He glanced toward Jane in shock as the sudden realization that she was causing this rose into his mind.
She watched him squirm briefly, glared warningly into his eyes for a moment, and then returned her attention to the tracks once more. Between the beautiful, tall buildings beyond the roof that covered the platform, she looked up toward the hazy blue sky. It helped her to concentrate on the extremely weak telepathic signal.
I know. I’m communic— with you through—Machine. … haven’t passed over the window—yet, came Max’s weak reply. She could barely understand him, although some words did come through quite clearly; it appeared there was some hope that their communication would improve.
How did I get here?
… Machine detected your psionic signature—activation sequence.
OK. She frowned and glanced back toward the bench where she had dropped the paper. Max, the date on the paper says 2018. How is that possible?
It’s—Transdimensional gateway. But also, capable—transmitting matter across space and time.
Time travel?
Yes.
She breathed sharply, shocked. She felt the security guard squirm, and she saw him glaring at her out of the corner of his eye. His mouth dropped open as he was once again held in place when she increased the force of her grip.
“Sorry,” she said, wincing.
Be careful, Jane. You’re controlling—Machine. It responds to you. Keep—mind focused. If you go off-world somewhere—there’s no breathable air—die. Stay on earth. Stay in 2018 for now, at least.
Max had paused. She hadn’t responded, as she was still reeling in shock from the revelation. But she could feel the weight of unspoken information that he was just about ready to drop on her. She felt her body go cold, and she turned further away from the guard.
Max, what is it?
Silence at first. Then he spoke. Jane… he’s coming.
Her eyes grew wide at the sound of his voice. To Jane, Max had always seemed a towering presence: supreme, primordial—as close to perfect as one could possibly imagine. Now, he sounded as small as any man, and it terrified her. She lost her focus for a second and released her grip on the security guard.
He screamed and stared at her in horror, jerking backward as his arm was freed from the grip of her mind. He didn’t hesitate in running for the steps just ten feet away.
Before Jane could think of any reasonable response, he had disappeared onto the floor below, and she heard his footsteps recede into the distance rapidly.
What do you mean? she asked as she walked around the railing and stared down the steps, catching sight of the security guard’s feet as he disappeared below the upper concrete.
Remember the road? … conversation we had.
Pause. Jane stared ahead with a blank expression, waiting for him to continue.
… freed. He’s already moved through the gate. You have to get out of there.
Where should I go? She looked around. In the distance, as she once again focused—reluctantly—on her physical surroundings, she could hear another train approaching.
Get on the train.
But Max!
Just—on it!
The train came into view a few hundred feet away, and her heart began to beat faster as she walked toward the platform. She felt something click into motion then, and on instinct, she turned back toward the steps, from where she could feel some presence approaching. Her body went cold.
Max. I can feel him… I can feel him coming already.
I know. GET OUT. … ON THE TRAIN NOW!
I don’t understand. Where are you? How can he get to me faster than you?
He’s still in—non-corporeal state. Better control in this environment.
Her eyes grew wide as she grasped what he meant. Max was human now.
She pulled her gaze away from the steps just as she felt something rise from underneath the railing there and turned to face the platform once again as the front of the train rushed toward her. It flew past her, and the current of air that washed up around her drifted her long hair away from her shoulders and up into the air. It seemed that in the rush and the electric buzz of the train, she could hear something call her name, and it came from a distant, rasping voice.
Max?
No. … wasn’t me. GET ON THE TRAIN! This time, his voice came through loud and clear, and it seemed it was only because of Max’s extremely strained effort.
The train came to a stop, and the doors opened. Several people stepped off and passed by Jane, totally oblivious to her situation. She hesitated, frowning.
JANE!
This time, he wasn’t asking a question or making a casual comment; he was giving her an inviolable command, and there was no way she would deny him. She nodded her head and stepped forward. She placed her first foot on the open doorway just above the platform but turned when she heard the rasping voice call her name from behind once again. Her hand immediately grasped her chest, and she stared back toward the stairwell just as the vague form of a black, formless appendage—an arm perhaps—reached up toward the railing from the steps that led to another level below.
Without further prompting, she turned and backed into the train, crashing into people as she crossed the ten-foot-wide carriage until she hit the closed doors at the other side, where other people stepped aside for her. She barely heard the few bemused utterances that escaped them as they parted for her.
She looked at the doors and begged for them to close. Come on! she thought, glancing from one opening to the other.
Jane, came the call from the terrible voice once again.
Thankfully, just when Jane felt that something, or someone, would rise over the railing, the doors closed. A second later, the train jerked into motion and pulled out of the station. Pressing her hand to her throat, she took deep gulps of air and looked up at the beautiful buildings as they rose on either side of the carriage. Squinting at the light, she wondered where she was.
All around her, the sun continued to spill in through the windows on either side of the carriage as the train moved further into the city. As she took note of her surroundings, she realized she had attracted some attention and that people were now staring at her.
The people who were standing nearby had immediately turned to face her, as though Jane was extending her own gravitational pull and they had been drawn to look in her direction. She scanned them quickly. There was a young, bearded man with a large backpack. In h
is mind, she sensed a strange, relentless apathy that had an almost addictive quality to it. Still, there was wonder and ambition there too, and the combination of the two feelings was like a strange, potent kind of fuel.
The woman to the right of him was terrified of not having enough money to feed her children the following week. The man on her left in the suit was looking forward to lunch—sushi. The two men who were standing in the corner at the end of the carriage, further to her left, were whispering. After a moment, Jane found that they were planning a robbery later that afternoon. In scanning their minds, she was glad to finally find her location: she was in Bangkok, Thailand, and the paper had been current—it was 2018.
She took a deep breath and allowed herself a brief moment of rest as the blazing sunlight warmed her body. She closed her eyes, held her face up to the sun, and thought of Max.
A bead of sweat dripped off her as she closed off her telepathic senses and looked at the floor. She could still sense people staring at her. She glanced at her denim jacket, and then compared what she was wearing to the clothing she could see around her. It didn’t look much different; surely she just looked well dressed to them. She and Ciara had procured these garments through telepathic trickery back in New York City. That was New York of 2028, not 2018. She frowned. The concept seemed ridiculous to her, but she shook the thought from her mind; there was no time to consider such things now.
On her right, she sensed something move, and she glanced in that direction, lifting her head up slowly. A black mass that seemed to be composed of a series of triangles was crawling up the white walls of the carriage inside the train, jerking in its movement. It stopped for a second as if scanning the train, and then began to move backward. To Jane, although it didn’t have human form, it seemed as though it was scanning the environment. She glanced around at the other passengers, but none of them seemed to notice.
Jane was afraid to glance back toward the flowing black mass but found she couldn’t help herself. When she did, the most horrible psychic impulse she had ever felt in her life hit her. Automatically, her hand went to her mouth, and she gagged. Without a second of thought, she knew to protect herself from it, and she put up a wall around her telepathic senses, leaving just enough room to communicate with Max.
Rise (The Ethereal Vision Book 2) Page 24