“The important thing is, it worked. No more voices in your head, no more accidentally breaking things or doing things to people with your mind. You could finally have a normal life.”
A normal life. The words whispered seductively in his mind, more compelling to him than the lovely woman smiling hesitantly at his side. Could it be real? The pain receded momentarily as he absorbed these new thoughts. He slipped out from under the covers, heedless of the fact that he wore only boxers, and wandered the room, seeking something familiar. He paused at the 8 X 10 photo in an etched glass frame. He looked at himself, clad in a tuxedo, his hair short and his eyes behind glasses, smiling, with his arm around Clarissa. Her old-fashioned bridal gown had a heavily sequined bodice and a six-foot train that curved over their feet. “And twenty-five buttons in the back,” he murmured.
“You would remember that,” clarissa said warmly.
He didn’t know how he knew it, or even why he’d imagine it. He resisted the urge to ask the obvious questions about their wedding, and turned instead to a photo of them with Joshua and Sachiko. They were in ski gear, someplace snowy with tall, rugged mountains rising gray in the background. “Colorado?” He guessed.
“Uh-huh. Last year. We went skiing in Vail. Joshua promised Sachiko that he’d go sailing with her if she’d do the black slopes with him. He hates the water.”
Despite himself, Deryl nodded. “Especially after his bachelor’s party,” he said, though he didn’t know why.
But again, it was the right thing to say. “Yes! That’s right! You saved his life when he fell off the boat during that stupid prank ‘Ko’s cousins set up. Pictures are helping, then?” Without waiting for an answer, she got out of bed and headed to a bookshelf. Her chemise was short, and Deryl couldn’t help staring as she bent over to pull out a scrapbook. She had terrific legs and a very nice—
“Are you checking me out?” She cut across his musings.
“No!” He averted his eyes guiltily.
She laughed, but let him off the hook. “Well, check this out instead.” She sat on the edge of the bed, and he sat next to her, close so that the book fell open on both their laps. The first pages were of buildings, nondescript and academic-looking with their brick and ivy and large stone signs with subjects and sometimes who the building was named for.
“I went to college?”
“Of course you did, silly. How else would we have met again?” She bumped her shoulder against his and smiled playfully. She had a great smile.
Suddenly he saw her smiling at him, but in a different place—smaller, crowded with books and stuffed animals—and the emotions were different—happy, excited, nervous. He gasped against the intensity of it.
“What do you remember?” She asked breathlessly.
“I, I don’t know,” he stammered. “You smiled at me, and then, I saw you smiling like that, only your hair was shorter, spiky, and you had painted a mask on your face, and whiskers. And you had on this black leotard with orange stripes and a tail.”
She turned to face him, her smile brilliant and joyful. “The Halloween party. Our first date.”
“I wanted you that night.” The words were out of his mouth before he’d realized he was speaking. The feelings were still strong in his mind, amplifying the attraction he was feeling now. He leaned toward her.
Stop it! This isn’t real! Think of Tasmae!
A fierce pain lanced the back of his head. He buckled over with a cry. The scrapbook slipped from their laps.
“Did you take your medicine today?”
“What medicine?” He choked out.
“Your medicine!” She repeated.
His head throbbed as the bed moved when she got up. He was dimly aware of her walking out, a second light coming on, and her rummaging through a cabinet. Slowly, each step bringing a new agony, he rose and followed her. He found her in the bathroom, a bottle of pills open and spilled onto the counter. She counted them as she put them back into the bottle. As she spoke numbers under her breath, he forced himself to lift his head and look into the mirror.
It was his face, but he was wearing glasses. When did he get glasses? He remembered them on the dresser, but didn’t remember putting them on. He didn’t recognize his hair, so short and layered. His face was fuller; his chest, too. He was both himself and a stranger. How old was he?
“You took it. You took it,” clarissa muttered. “They’re just not working as well. Here. Dr. Acker said if it got worse, you could take one extra.”
Deryl looked at the green pill in her hand. “What are they?”
“Realitin. A neuro-suppressor. After the surgery, you were fine for a while, then you started having delusions, remember? Nightmares, at first, like tonight. Dreams of being on another planet. Some of your abilities came back, but you couldn’t control them. It turned out that in the absence of whatever he cut out, your mind was going overtime trying to make up for it, or re-forge a link or something.”
She’d managed to explain that much calmly, but something in Deryl’s look must have unnerved her, for her tone started to grow frantic. “Yeah, I know, I’m not explaining well. I never understood this stuff, Deryl, you know that. The point is, you’ve been taking these every day for the past three years and you’ve been all right. Then last week, you started having nightmares about someplace called Canaan and people named Leanad and Tasmay and some evil overlord named Al Lou Jiak. I thought maybe you’d forgotten to take your pills, but Dr. Acker thinks you might be developing a resistance. So please, take this now, and call him tomorrow?”
He wanted to protest that he didn’t even remember Dr. Acker, much less his phone number, but she looked so scared again that he forced a smile and swallowed the pill. If it wasn’t real, it couldn’t hurt him, anyway, right?
“It worked pretty fast last time,” She told him, though she also seemed to be reassuring herself. “It’ll help your headache, too. Shall we look at some more pictures?”
They settled down on the bed again with the scrapbook. Already, Deryl’s headache was receding, though he wasn’t sure that comforted him much. He concentrated on the photos. One, of a modern building, drew him, as did the large stone and brick sign that declared “Computer Science Building” in the front.
“That’s where we met, remember?” Clarissa asked. “I was walking by with some friends and you were hanging out by the sign, and you called out, ‘Hey, Clarissa, kissed any crazy psychics lately?’”
“I planned that line for a week,” he told her. Again, words he didn’t know were his came from his mouth, and memories he didn’t remember poured into his mind. Other things shifted into place and it was his turn to dash out of the room. Instead of a left to the bathroom, however, he took a right, passed through their living room and went into the study. His study. Breathing fast, he approached the first desk and the computer there. It was large and powerful, top of the line. Beside it waited a stack of paper with computer code. On the opposite wall was another desk with a blue, stylized computer with a glowing red alien face in the front.
“One for work and one for your games,” clarissa commented from the doorway.
“But I can’t look at a computer—or television, for that matter. I get seizures.”
“Not since the surgery. The glasses help, too, I’m told. Something about the way they’re ground. They’re hideously expensive, I know that.”
He flipped through the pages on the desk. “I program computers.”
“You’re brilliant at it, too,” clarissa said as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his back. “At least according to Mom and Dad. You’re the reason they got that NASA contract. I think they were as happy for their business as for me when we got married.” She sighed happily as she snuggled in closer.
It felt very natural to have her lean against him like that, but his mind was on the papers before him. He shuffled thr
ough a few more slowly, saw something, and grabbed a pencil. He felt the silk of her nightgown caress his back as she shifted to peer past him.
“New subroutine?” She asked.
“No. I screwed this part up. I need to bone up on orbital mechanics.” How did he know that?
Her arms tightened around him. “Don’t tinker with it too much. You’re already late enough that Mom and Dad have come to me about it. It’s all coming back, now, isn’t it? Oh, thank God. Are you feeling better?”
“Some,” he said uncertainly. “The headache’s fading, but I feel…confused.”
“Maybe we should go to bed.”
He took her hand and let her guide him back to their bed. He even kissed her softly goodnight. But when she turned the lights out, he rolled with his back to her and stared out at their dark apartment until his eyes would stay open no longer.
When Deryl woke up, he felt a moment of panic when he didn’t know where he was. Then, things snapped back into place and he rolled over and caressed the side of the bed where Clarissa had slept. There was only a note on the pillow now. He grabbed the note with one hand, then pulled the pillow to his face with the other. He breathed deeply, smelling her perfume. For a moment, he saw her in his mind’s eye, spraying the air before her then walking into the mist with her head thrown back. He loved watching her put on perfume. Somehow, just laying there with her pillow against his face helped ease the odd, empty feeling that had welled up inside him.
He leaned back, happier now, and read the note. Honey, didn’t want to wake you after last night. Tried to get the day off, but I’ve got pre-school gym plus swim, and Regionals are coming up, so there was no way. I’ll be home by 5, promise! In the meantime, relax, take your pill, and Please! Call Dr. Acker. I love you!
Laughing, he slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He showered, dressed, shaved—yes, he needed to shave, even used a straight-razor like Joshua—and ran a comb through his hair. His glasses were dirty, and as he reached into the medicine cabinet for cleaner, he saw the small prescription bottle of Realitin. He started to open it when something made his hand stop.
Don’t do it! Tasmae’s coming, and she can’t reach you if you take those. Don’t buy into this reality. It’s not real! Remember Tasmae!
The feeling of incompleteness rushed over him, and he dropped the unopened bottle and staggered back, hitting the shower doors and sliding down. What was he doing? Alugiac was out there, manipulating his mind the way he had as a child; only this time, he was using elements of Deryl’s memories to weave a complex trap.
Clarissa’s antique perfume aerator caught his eye, but a different hand held it, and the woman who walked into the mist wore a wedding dress and hairstyle more suited to the 1940s.
Not his memories alone—the memories of all the minds that had touched his! Deryl started to shake.
Tasmae! He teleped with all his might. Tasmae!
He felt nothing in reply and fought back a sob. Without consciously realizing it, his arms folded themselves over his middle and he began to rock. The world around him grayed.
*
“You know, it’s a good thing I work out, or I’d be in so much pain by now.”
“Joshua?” Deryl blinked and saw his friend sitting beside him, rocking in time with him. In his surprise, he stopped moving, and Joshua sighed with relief.
“Thank you. Now let’s get out of here. Don’t know what you’ve experienced, but this is Land of the Nasty Exes as far as I’m concerned.”
“I, um, saw Clarissa. She was okay.”
Joshua looked at him searchingly and Deryl felt himself blush. “Maybe you’d better not say too much about that to Tasmae,” his friend advised.
“Tasmae! She’s here?”
As if in answer, they heard her cry for help. The two stood and ran, kicking up the fog as they went.
They found her in a meadow like the one where he’d watched the battle from what seemed ages ago—and like on that day, she was under attack. Three warriors battled against her at once, pushing her back against a tree. Others were on their way.
“Deryl, you gotta do something!” Joshua yelled.
“What?” Deryl watched in confusion. “That’s Salgoud.”
“What are you talking about? Those are like, orcs or something! Deryl, use your telekinesis—kill them before they kill her! Quick!”
“Orcs?” Deryl turned back to the scene. One of the soldiers had knocked Tasmae’s dagger from her hand, which bled freely. She was in obvious pain, yet brought her sword up again and again to counter the blows. But they were her people. At least, he saw them as her people.
Kanaan or orcs, he had to stop them. He focused his energy on pushing them away.
Nothing happened.
“Deryl!” Tasmae screamed. “Point blows! Kill them!”
Kill them. The words echoed in his mind, bearing down on him. He shook his head.
“Deryl, what’s wro—” Joshua’s question ended in a strangled gasp, and Deryl turned to see that another warrior had run him through.
“Josh!”
Then the Kanaan’s form changed. The sword became thick and claw-like, ripping Joshua’s flesh as it grew and fused into the creature’s arm. It pulled back its claw, and Joshua dropped to the ground. It lost its humanoid form, but not its triumphant smile.
“No!”
Behind him, Tasmae gave a last scream as the monsters ran her through. As she fell, she looked at him. Her eyes accused: Why did you hesitate?
“No-no-no-NOOOO!”
The world around him went red then black. The creatures changed again, surrounding him like a wall, bearing down on him like an avalanche. His ears filled with laughter that quickly grew into a high-pitched mechanical whine—
*
Deryl screamed and clawed at the inside of the MRI apparatus. He dimly heard people calling instructions, and he was pulled out. For a moment, he struggled against the nurses, but when they didn’t change into some hideous form, he grabbed one by the shoulders and demanded to know the only thing of importance: “Are you real?”
Ten minutes later, he sat in an uncomfortable upholstered chair in Dr. Acker’s hospital office, waiting for the results of the MRI. Clarissa occupied the chair beside him, but after he’d shrugged off her attempts to comfort him, had contented herself with laying one hand lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t look at her, but stared at the floor and the large brass plaque that read Dr. Alouicious Grant Acker, MD, PhD, and answered her questions in monosyllables if at all. They both looked up with a start when Dr. Acker came in.
Dr. Acker’s sweet round face crinkled in a sympathetic smile, but it didn’t hide the worry in his eyes. He didn’t speak until he’d settled his portly body into his desk chair and slid the CD into its slot. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. What we found was most…startling. Deryl, do you remember taking your medication today?”
“No.” He shook his head. Things were starting to come back. “I was going to. I’d gotten out of the shower. I had the bottle in my hands. Then.” He shrugged.
“Go on.”
He glanced uncertainly at Clarissa. He didn’t want to scare her further. For a moment, he considered asking her to leave, but a stab of fear echoed the stab of pain in the back of his skull, and he quickly discarded the idea. She was all that was keeping him together at the moment. She swallowed hard, but nodded encouragingly.
He answered, keeping his tone as bland and factual as he could, though with each word, his head hurt more, and his anxiety increased. “I was in the Netherworld, like another dimension. Joshua was there. He said he’d pulled me out of the illusion I was in—this world—and then Tasmae was attacked, and they wanted me to use my telekinesis to kill the attackers, but they looked like friends to me. Then they—the attackers—they turned into monsters. They killed Joshua and Tasmae. They were goi
ng to bury me alive. Then, I was in the MRI room.” He knew his explanation was disjointed and confused, but he prayed they wouldn’t press him for details.
Mercifully, Dr. Acker asked, “About how long did it feel?”
“Ten, fifteen minutes. How long have I been here?”
Dr. Acker nodded to Clarissa.
She swallowed hard before answering. “I came home at 5:30 and found you in the bathroom, just rocking and, and whimpering, so I called 911. We’ve been here about two hours.”
His heart ached to see the tears welling in her eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry!”
He pulled her in close.
Chapter 26
“How is playing this game going to help us find Deryl?” Tasmae demanded impatiently, as she stared at a huge stone lion with a man’s face.
“Survival of the Sphinx is a new reality TV-game show on Earth. We get a mission—saving Deryl, right? Then the Sphinx gives us riddles that will help us complete the mission. If we can interpret the riddle before the buzzer goes off, we get things that can help us: time, more clues, sometimes stuff. And if we don’t, we don’t get the prize, but we at least have the clue. Come on. I thought you liked riddles.”
“I don’t like wasting time.”
“Me, either. Listen. This is a half-hour show, half of which is eaten up with completing the mission. Take out commercials, and the quiz part is like ten minutes. It’s time better spent gathering information than running about at random or brainstorming in a vacuum.”
“Are you prepared?” The Sphinx asked.
Tasmae nodded.
“We’re ready.”
“When Roland and Fender get busy together, this is their issue, but its shape and soul are created by you.”
Roland? Fender? The words made no sense to Tasmae, though she had the feeling they had to create something. She turned to Joshua, who was repeating the riddle in a whisper. Then, his face cleared into an expression of joy.
Mind Over Psyche Page 26
