by Thomas Locke
Sean felt himself blown back in his chair by hearing their dream spoken aloud by a guy he had never met.
Dillon asked, “You’ve been watching us?”
“Not long enough.” Carver tapped his good hand on the wooden tabletop. “Before we begin, you must remove all electronic devices. Your watches, phones, everything. How long did you tell your friends before they will call the emergency services?”
Sean and Dillon said it together. “Spooky.”
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Tell them everything is safe here, you are all right, and they should stand down.”
Sean liked how he kept his gaze as steady as his voice. “Is it? Safe, I mean.”
The dimples came and went a second time. The only sign of weakness this guy had shown. “Your safety is assured. As to whether everything is all right, well, that depends upon how you perform.”
Sean rose to his feet. “Give us a second.”
They retreated to the living room, where Dillon said, “What should we do?”
“I think . . . What do you think he means, ‘perform’?”
Dillon shrugged. “Maybe how loud we scream?”
Sean decided. “Okay. Enough.” He texted his friend. Waited while Dillon did the same. A shared breath. Then they returned to the kitchen and handed over their phones.
Somehow Carver made a solemn act of accepting the devices. “Gentlemen, you just passed the first test.”
“Are there many?” Dillon asked. “Tests, I mean.”
“Only if you keep passing.”
“And if we don’t?”
“All this never happened,” Carver replied. “And I was never here.”
Dillon dragged out the word, “Okay.”
“Dillon, sit down. Sean, come here.” He moved to the bare, whitewashed wall beside the rear door. “What you see here before you is not a wall. It is in fact a portal. I want you to walk through it.”
Sean reached forward and touched. The paint still felt slightly tacky. “Seems real enough to me.”
“To your physical senses, yes. This is what I meant by preferring to work with younger children. Their ability to sense beyond the physical is much keener. Can you perceive anything other than what you are viewing with your eyes?”
Sean found himself fighting the words around a racing heart. “Only that this is seriously weird.”
Carver’s frown was as quick as his smile. “Take a pace back. Now observe.”
Their new neighbor then stepped forward. But he did not strike the wall. Instead, he simply vanished.
Dillon said, “Wha . . .”
Carver reappeared. “Now I want you to do this. Extend your senses beyond what your mind is telling you are the physical limitations. And follow your extended awareness.”
“Through the wall,” Sean said.
“No, no, no. The wall is not there. Not if you act properly and use what you already know exists within you.” Carver looked from one twin to the other. “The image of the transport complex you both have spent years wishing you could visit, these dreams you both have shared for so long that define the hunger inside you—these are real. What is more, this signifies your higher potential. We meet together today in order to determine whether the seed planted in each human at birth has taken root. Despite everything about the physical universe that keeps you trapped. Despite all the reasons you have to lose hope and confine yourself to the mundane. We need to answer this ultimate question. Are you ready and able to move beyond?”
Sean was following him now. Even though his mind kept trying to shut down. Even so, he said, “What if I can’t?”
Carver leaned in close enough for the bottomless gaze to almost swallow him. He growled, “You will not fail. You are going to walk through that portal and enter into a new and higher level of existence.” He then nudged the small of Sean’s back. Instantly Sean felt like a second belt had been fastened to his waist. “You are now linked. When you pass through, remain as you are. I will draw you back.”
“When I pass through,” Sean repeated.
“Correct. Now go.”
3
Two things kept Sean standing there, staring at a blank wall. Readying himself to take the impossible step forward.
First, he had just seen the guy do it himself. If Sean had been alone, he might have put it off as some kind of illusion. But Dillon was hard to fool. And Sean’s brother had been equally blown away by that little performance.
Second, Sean felt in his gut that this was real. The whole deal. The guy in maimed condition, the impossible words, the incredible challenge.
Forget logic.
This was what he had spent his entire life waiting for.
A chance to break free.
Only he had never figured it would be like this. Being told to do the impossible.
Except that, if he could do this—actually follow the guy’s lead and walk straight ahead, find that portal—it wasn’t impossible. It was . . .
Sean stepped forward.
That single step changed everything. Because it wasn’t just a movement of his feet. It was a change at every level of his life.
Sean felt something shift deep inside. Deeper than his bones. At a level he did not realize he possessed. At least, not consciously. But he knew, even as he moved, that this was where the idea and the image had both first taken form. At the place about four inches below his navel that was burning now with a fire that actually did not burn at all. It filled him with a sense of power.
He actually shaped the words as he stepped forward. We’re meant for something big.
And the wall was not there to stop him.
Sean slipped through a greyish mist and felt a slight grip to his being, like he moved through a spiderweb. Then he was through. And gasping with the shock. And totally excited. And freaked. And wanting to shriek with the incredible thrill of having done it.
Because he had arrived.
Inside the train station they had fashioned over years. He was standing inside his dream.
The place was huge. Bigger than the state coliseum where they’d been for a couple of concerts. Five times that size. The ceiling was lined with the glass tubes he had been drawing for ten long years. So many tubes they looked like tiny, transparent ribs. Then he saw the trains, and they were glass as well, of course, and they were flying, fast as anything he’d ever seen. And then he saw the people. Tiny specks that dotted the . . . the ceiling. They were walking upside down. And there were more people around him. Walking right-side up. And more still were on the walls to either side, everybody moving calmly, like it was what they did every day, hurrying to where the tubes opened and the glass trains stopped and people got on and off and the trains started back up, whooshing away and disappearing into those translucent tubes. And people stepped onto moving walkways and they whooshed too, only they were to his left and right and above him and beside him, and they were so calm.
Then he saw the man.
He stood directly in front of Sean. Tall and black, not normal African American dark-skinned. This guy was as black and polished as a gemstone. And he was really, really angry. If glares could kill, Sean would have already been reduced to a molten puddle.
Then he felt the tug at his waist, and he was hauled back. He was sorry to leave this incredible place. But not at all sad about leaving that guy. It was probably a bad idea, but Sean didn’t like this guy or his glare, not one tiny bit. So he planted his knuckles at the base of his chin and gave a little finger wave. So long, suckah.
Then he was back in the kitchen. “Oh, man.”
“That was amazing,” Dillon breathed. “You just went gone.”
Sean tsk-tsked. “Grammar.”
Carver said, “Tell me what you saw.”
Sean said to his brother, “You have got to check that place out. It is exactly like we drew.”
“You mean . . .”
Sean pointed at the freshly painted wall. “Th
e station. It’s right there.”
Carver smiled. “Good. Very good. Anything else?”
“Other than people crawling on the walls?”
“Modulated gravity.”
“Told you,” Dillon said.
“And the glass trains, they were sooo cool. Where was that place?”
“For later.”
Dillon was already up and moving. “I want in.”
“Wait,” Sean said. “There’s this guy. He doesn’t want us there.”
Carver nodded approval. “Excellent observation. You focused well for a first outing.”
“Who is he anyway?”
“Again, for later. Dillon?”
“Get out of my way, bro.”
This time Sean was able to watch as Carver manipulated the air behind Dillon’s belt. “All right. Through the portal. Stay until I draw you back. Ready?”
“Man, I’ve been ready for years. Longer.”
“Go.”
Dillon took a breath and stepped forward.
And rammed straight into the wall.
“Ow.” He stepped back. Another breath. And launched himself even harder. This time Sean actually winced at the collision.
“Ow again.” Dillon looked angry now. He hated nothing more than the thought of Sean leaving him behind. Everything was a contest for Dillon. A fight.
“Hang on a sec.” Sean stepped up to his brother. Close in, like they were planning a strategy on a soccer pitch. He planted his fist at the point below Dillon’s navel, right where he had felt that surge. And realized he still felt it now. “This is where you move from.”
“Talk English.”
“Just listen. This isn’t about fighting. You can’t batter your way in. So take a chill pill. Go on, do it.” He waited until he saw the flames fade in his brother’s gaze. “Good. Now focus here where my hand is.”
Dillon was never good at exposing the real heart Sean knew beat as fiercely as a forest fire. But for a fleeting instant, he showed Sean what was beneath his rage. He whispered, “What if I can’t?”
“You are not going to make me do this on my own. Got it?”
Dillon opened his mouth, but only to give a couple of tight breaths. Sean watched him stow the fear down where it belonged. Deep.
Sean said, “There’s a power. Feel it? That is your ticket out. You reach with that power. Not at the wall. Through it. Okay, on my count. One, two, three, go.”
Dillon stepped forward and disappeared.
Carver said, “That was excellent. You have the makings of an instructor. This is a rare gift.”
“I know my brother.”
“No, no, this is something more. You identify the force, you utilize it, and you explain it in a manner that another person can understand, even when his own mind is fighting him.” Carver patted his shoulder. The first time they had ever touched. “Well done.”
Sean was still glowing as Carver tugged on the invisible cord, and Dillon stepped backwards into view. Like the wall just melted around him. Like he was moving through a whitewashed pool. And Dillon was grinning hugely and saying, “Time for one good scream, then let’s do that again!”
But before Sean could add his own confirmation to that idea, another person stepped through the portal. And suddenly the kitchen felt overcrowded. And a much less friendly place to be.
The black man glowered at Sean. “This one disrespected me.”
Sean knew an enemy when he saw one. “Back at you.”
Carver said, “Steady.”
The black man snarled. He said to Carver, “You are wasting everybody’s time. They are unacceptable. I fail them as of now.”
“I have been given a month,” Carver replied. “They passed the first two tests. They trusted against all logic. And they transited. On their first attempt.”
“It does not change anything. I am the Examiner assigned to this case.”
“Your position does not grant you the powers to fail a student who has passed.”
Sean could see the guy just hated that. Really twisted him up. The man replied, “They will fail. It is only a matter of when.”
Carver’s tone hardened. “I have a month.”
“You know the pressure we face. This squanders valuable resources.”
“May I remind you,” Carver replied, “of the last time we identified candidates from this locale?”
“That was a fluke.”
“We are still reaping the benefits of that so-called fluke.”
The Examiner wheeled about. “I will take great pleasure in proving you wrong. And ensuring that your seniority is stripped away once your assessment is proven as flawed as I know it to be.” He melted away.
Carver walked over and punched the wall. “Bureaucrats.”
Sean liked the man more than he thought possible. “You have got to meet our dad.”
Carver turned around. Forced his anger aside. “My apologies. This should be a time for celebration.”
Dillon asked, “What’s got that guy’s panties in a twist?”
“As I said, it is very rare to find a successful candidate anywhere near your age. Plus there is the locale. Most successful candidates come from communities where these abilities are fostered and talented children are praised.” Carver stared at the blank wall. “The Examiner refused me permission to come here. I went over his head. I argued that if twin recruits can emerge from a society that degrades hope, that scorns the promise of better things . . .” He sighed. “We will see who is right.”
Sean felt the same visceral force reaching out, only this time it was connecting him to the maimed man. “Were you a soldier?”
“I was. Yes. I still am.”
“What was your rank?”
He frowned in the effort to translate. “Beneath the top leader. General, you call them. One rank lower.”
“Colonel. What happened to your arm?”
“Again, later. Where was I?”
They said it together. “Celebration.”
“Exactly. I am recalling a word we heard often in our observations.” Carver showed them genuine warmth. “That word was Charger.”
4
It was hard to say who was more excited after the taxi dropped them off at the Dodge dealership, Dillon or the salesman. Dillon spoke the words that were there shimmering in the salesman’s features. “You mean it? I can take any car I want?”
“So long as we can drive it away today.”
The salesman was named Chet, who weighed a touch under nine hundred pounds. He didn’t swoon at Carver’s words. He did, however, quiver.
Dillon wore an expression Sean had last seen in some black-and-white film, where the guy has just heard that the girl he’s been yearning over for the past ninety minutes actually loves him too. “There’s one right over there.”
The car was silver, which was the only thing that kept it from being a total redneck mobile, as far as Sean was concerned. But give Dillon access to some paste-on flames, and Sean was certain his brother would correct that.
Carver said, “Tell me what I am seeing.”
Which was when Sean realized Carver was trying hard not to laugh.
Right then and there, Sean started getting annoyed. The only person allowed to laugh at his brother was him. Especially now. When Dillon was about eighteen feet from his second-biggest dream come true.
Dillon, however, only had eyes for the monster on wheels. “That is a Dodge Charger SXT. Six-point-four-liter V8, power shifters, twenty-inch wheels . . .” He looked at the salesman. “What’s the interior?”
“Red on black, sir. Special SXT stitching. Glove leather. And don’t forget the ten-speaker Beats audio system—”
“With the five-hundred-watt puncher.” Dillon sighed. “Perfect.”
“Would you gentlemen care to take her for a drive?”
“After we complete the purchase,” Carver replied, reaching into his pocket and handing over his plastic.
Carver and Dillon headed for the desk
where Chet wedged himself into a chair and started writing. Sean walked over to the dealership’s front window and stared sullenly at the sunset view. The flags flapped in the late May breeze. He checked his watch, then used his phone to call home. He told his mother that he and Dillon were on an errand, so they’d have dinner with a friend. He hung up and hoped the word actually fit. That Carver was a friend. But he had his doubts. Serious ones.
Carver walked up beside him. “I know this is not your preference.”
Sean heard the quiet underlay of accent, like a spice too subtle to actually be tasted as something separate. Which only made his suspicions grow.
“You would prefer the . . . how do you say it . . . Beemer?”
Knowing the man had monitored their most private conversations really rankled. “I don’t want anything from you. Except what you won’t give. Some honest answers.”
“I have not lied to you and I never will.”
Sean turned so he could look over to where Chet walked Dillon around the SXT, explaining the features. “What kind of guy buys a seventeen-year-old stranger a fifty-five-thousand-dollar car?”
“The car is mine.”
“Oh. Right.” Sean had enough heat to meet the fathomless gaze. “Do you even know how to drive?”
Carver showed no heat. “Theoretically.”
Sean turned back to the sunset. “Great.”
“Tell me what is troubling you.”
“I just did.” But the man stood there, waiting, so he said, “I want to know what you’re expecting to get in return for this.”
Carver nodded. “I understand.” He pointed to the car. “You think I am doing this so you will be in my debt. That is incorrect. This is intended as a reward.”
“Like walking through the wall wasn’t enough?”
“Look at your brother. The young man who could not do what you did until you taught him how. He showed a fear you did not even feel.”
“I was scared.”
“No. You doubted. But you knew no fear.” Carver gave him a chance to argue. Then he went on, “Your brother has a warrior’s heart. He is simple in his actions and his aims. He responds well to instruction and reward. He needs to be focused in the correct direction. I am speaking to him as one soldier to another.”