Dark Matter (Interchron Book 3)

by Liesel K. Hill

  Jonah laid back in the seat, feeling nervous. The whole thing felt weird. Then again, weird had become new normal these past few days. He closed his eyes, not asking questions.

  "Here we go," Doc said. "Beginning sequence."

  A strange sensation filled Jonah. Like a rushing wind, although he couldn't feel it on his skin. He heard the rushing deep in his ear canals, as though the wind originated down inside him somewhere. Doc’s voice reached his ears. It sounded far away now, as though it echoed in a stone chamber.

  "Describe what you see for us, Jonah."

  A long corridor materialized in front of Jonah's eyes. Bare white walls, and a ceiling miles overhead. "I'm standing in a hallway." He became aware of a dull ache behind his eyes.

  "What does it look like?" Doc's voice echoed again.

  "Like the hallway of a residential house. White walls, brown carpet.”

  “Where does it lead, Jonah?"

  Jonah peered into the distance. It seemed far away, though he thought it might only be ten or twelve feet. Why did it seem like such a huge distance? "At the end, I think it opens into the living space. I can see a door. It looks like a normal front door in any house."

  "Do you recognize the house, Jonah?"

  Jonah studied his surroundings in more detail. Now that Doc asked, they did seem familiar. "I'm not sure. Maybe a house I lived in as a kid?"

  "Walk toward the door, Jonah."

  Jonah took a step forward. The pain behind his eyes intensified, enough to stop him. He closed his eyes and waited until the pain lessened—or at least stabilized. Then he opened his eyes again. Balloons appeared at the end of the hallway, right where it opened into the living space. Seafoam green, the balloons hovered gently a few feet above the floor.

  Jonah took a second step down the corridor. The pain intensified once more. He fought through it. More balloons appeared with each step, blocking his way. Each step brought more balloons. And more pain.

  When he reached roughly half the distance to the balloons, the pain became so intense, he couldn't walk any longer. He fell to his knees grasping his head.

  Jonah's eyes popped open, showing him the cavern in Interchron, and Maggie peering worriedly down at him. His head rang as though someone had clanged a metal hammer onto an anvil directly next to his ear.

  "What happened," Maggie asked, still standing beside Jonah’s bed. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  Doc hadn't moved. He and Lila still peered down at the computer. "I'm not sure," Doc said. "Jonah's jam is fighting back."

  "Fighting back?" Jonah asked.

  "Yes," Doc said. "You have some kind of repressed memory here, Jonah. It's keeping you from reaching your neurochemical abilities. We need to work through it, so your neurochemical abilities can emerge more fully."

  "A repressed memory?" Jonah's disbelief seeped through his voice. "Why would I have a repressed memory? Maggie and I had extremely healthy childhoods. I don't have anything to repress."

  "Maybe it has nothing to do with your childhood," Maggie said. "Remember, when the group returned me to Vegas, they couldn't find you. They left me beside you in that hotel room, but we never figured out how you got from the bar to hotel."

  “When Lila ran the second sequence,” Jonah said, I felt pain in my leg, right where the scar I got in Vegas is.”

  Lila nodded her confirmation. “It’s so strange, because it’s just old scar tissue. I can’t sense any injury or pain centers around it.”

  “Even so,” Maggie said, looking excited. “It must have to do with Vegas. Maybe figuring out this memory will solve the mystery for us. Don’t you think so, Doc?

  Doc looked thoughtful. "We can’t discount it,” Doc said.

  He still sounded mildly doubtful, which didn’t give Jonah much hope. Obviously Maggie wanted this to be an answer to Vegas, and Jonah was all for that, but it didn’t feel to him like one had much to do with the other.

  “Jonah,” Doc said, “you said it might have been a childhood home, which makes it sound like this might be something from your childhood. Can you elaborate on what you found familiar?”

  Jonah shook his head. "I didn't recognize it until you asked me if it seemed familiar." He paused, remembering how high the ceilings had been. “I think I might've been a child though. The ceilings were high above me. I felt…small."

  "Maybe that's why you don't remember well," Lila said. "Most of us wouldn't remember houses we lived in when we were that little. If your parents moved to a new location before you were old enough to remember, you’d only have a vague memory of this place, if you remembered it at all.”

  Maggie frowned. “But what could a childhood memory have to do with Vegas? Vegas only happened two years ago.”

  Doc raised his hands placatingly. “In all honesty, this may have nothing to do with anything. We simply don't know enough about it to draw any conclusions. I'd like to run the sequence again, Jonah. You’ll know what to expect this time.”

  "Balloons," Jonah said quickly, feeling like he should mention them because they’d felt like such an important detail. "Green balloons appeared at the end of the hallway. They multiplied as I got closer. So did the pain in my head.”

  Maggie frowned in worry. "Why is he in pain, Doc?"

  "Sometimes jams can be painful to work through," Doc said soothingly. "I'm monitoring Jonah closely. If the pain becomes worse than a mild migraine, I’ll pull him out of the sequence. As Lila explained earlier, if we work through the memory, the pain should become less with each attempt. It's important to keep going."

  Jonah snorted. Easy for Doc to say. Jonah grumbled as much under his breath. Truly the pain didn’t bother him as much as the balloons. Something about them felt sinister. "Any idea what the balloons mean?" he asked.

  Doc shook his head. "I can't say for sure yet. Them appearing as you move forward makes me think they aren’t part of the memory. They may be a construct of your brain. What did they do specifically?"

  "Just hung there,” Jonah said, trying to bring them to mind again. “I felt like they wanted to block my way when I moved forward. I only made it halfway down the hallway, so didn’t quite reach them."

  “Very well,” Doc said, pushing some buttons on his computer screen. “This time, I want you to try and make it to the end of the hallway. Try to see what’s in the living area beyond it.”

  Jonah leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes once more. The rushing wind sensation came again, and the corridor materialized much more quickly this time. He took in the general appearance of the hallway, white walls, the popcorn ceiling high above. The house definitely had an 80s vibe to it.

  Doc's voice echoed in his ears. "What do you see Jonah?"

  “I’m here again,” Jonah said. “Same hallway.” The dull pain behind his eyes began to throb.

  "Head toward the far end," Doc said.

  Jonah moved forward. Balloons appeared at the end of the hallway, and the pain in Jonah’s head grew worse. He moved forward anyway, trusting what Doc said about the pain eventually receding. Seafoam green, the balloons hovered like marshmallows in his vision, white strings trailing on the brown carpet.

  As Jonah moved forward, more green balloons appeared. He couldn't see anything beyond the corridor anymore. With each step, the pain intensified. He moved past the halfway point, fighting the ache in his head. The balloons continued to multiply. Soon there were so many, he couldn’t see anything beyond the hallway. They’d even begun to block out the light.

  Three quarters of the way down the hall, Jonah reached the balloon barrier. Raising a hand, he pushed against the pale green latex. He half expected the barrier to feel like a brick wall, but the balloons gave.

  He pushed through them. And through them, and through them, and through them. He couldn't find the other side. He whirled around. The corridor behind him had disappeared. Seafoam green balloons surrounded him on all sides, and still they multiplied. Panic bloomed in his chest.

  He turned to
push through them again, but his sense of direction was skewed. He didn't know which way led toward the door and which way led back. The balloons multiplied around him, pressing into his arms, his shoulders, his face. Jonah’s chest tightened. The balloons filled all the space. They sucked up the air. Jonah was suffocating.

  With the gasp, Jonah’s eyes flew open and he lunged into a sitting position in Interchron’s cool, airy cavern.

  Maggie stood beside him, one hand on his forearm, the other on his shoulder as though to push him down if he tried to jump up. "Jonah, are you okay?"

  Jonah’s breath came raggedly, as though he’d run ten miles. A sheen of sweat covered him from head to toe. "What happened?"

  "Doc pulled you out of the sequence," Maggie said.

  Jonah swallowed, glad to be out of it. He didn’t want to sound as panicked as he’d felt. "Why?" his voice sounded hoarse, but calm.

  "The pain became too intense," Doc said.

  "Really?" Jonah swung his legs over the side of the bed and put a hand to his hairline, pushing the sweat from his forehead and into his hair. "The pain didn't seem as bad this time."

  Doc looked up at Jonah from the computer with a raised eyebrow. "It didn't?"

  Jonah shook his head. “It started out as it did the first time and got more intense as I went along. This time the balloons multiplied until I couldn’t see through them. When I reached them, I still felt the pain, but it didn't intensify like before. Almost like it reached a plateau."

  Frowning, Doc studied his computer screen. "Your brain experienced higher pain than you realized. I don't know why you weren’t conscious of it. Perhaps you were too focused on the balloons."

  "What do the balloons represent?" Jonah asked. "Whatever they are, they're trying to keep me from seeing what's beyond the hallway."

  Doc rose from the computer and came to stand beside Jonah. "You’re creating the balloons, Jonah. Using them to protect whatever this memory is. You must push through them to see the memory."

  "When I walked toward them they multiplied. I didn’t do that."

  "You did, Jonah,” Doc said patiently. “The same way people subconsciously repress memories. They don't realize they're doing it. You did make progress in this second sequence. You made it further down the corridor and made contact with the balloons. We need to keep going. Tell me exactly what you saw."

  Jonah related the experience exactly as he remembered it. He even put in the detail about thinking the balloons would be a brick wall.

  "Perhaps," Doc said, "because you didn't think you'd be able to push through the balloons, your mind made it a reality. This time, I want you to focus on the balloons being easy to push through. Ignore them, even. Try to see what's beyond them. Consciously think of them as not being obstacle. As something you can simply push past, rather than as something sinister.

  “Maybe we should give him a few minutes to rest," Maggie said.

  Jonah shook his head. "No, we don't have time. I want to figure this out. Like you said, everything is happening too fast with this eclipse. I need to figure out my abilities now." Laying back on the bed, he shut his eyes, and waited for the sequence to restart.

  After a pause, Doc murmured, "Very well." His footsteps shuffled toward the computer. Maggie took Jonah’s hand. The sequence began again.

  The corridor appeared the same, except this time balloons already floated at the far end. The ache behind Jonah’s eyes throbbed, stronger than before. He moved forward with determination. He would get through those balloons this time. The pain increased incrementally as he moved down the corridor and toward the balloons. This time, when he reached them, he didn’t touch them right away. He closed his eyes and focused on pushing them, imagining them as regular balloons that would move aside at his slightest touch.

  The pain in his head turned sharp. He ignored it, determined not to let the pain stop him. He’d get through these ridiculous balloons. He shut his eyes and bulled his way forward. Pain exploded in his head. Jonah fell to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears.

  Chest heaving, Jonah opened his eyes.

  The pain receded enough to take in his surroundings. He’d made it into the living room. A gaudy couch, covered in velvety, orange-flowered fabric, faced a fatter TV than he’d seen in years. In one corner, a box of wooden blocks sat next to an ancient train set.

  “Jonah, are you okay?” Maggie’s voice held the same echoing quality Doc’s. Such strange sensations. Jonah felt Maggie standing at his elbow in the chamber of Interchron. Her voice also sounded far away, like it came from another place. He registered both sensations simultaneously and understood them equally.

  “Yes,” he gasped. “I think so.” The pain didn’t exactly lessen, but it wasn’t as sharp as before. The remaining ache made him want to sleep. He forced his eyes to remain open.

  “Jonah,” Doc’s voice came this time. “You’re right at the threshold of pain I’ve set. Do you want me to pull you out of the sequence?”

  Jonah almost shook his head but thought better of it. Moving would only cause more pain. “No. I’m okay still.”

  “What do you see? Have you gotten past the balloons?”

  “Yes.” He walked stiffly across the room and picked a painted wooden block up out of the box. “I’m in the living room beyond the hallway. I think more than ever I may have lived here as a kid. The room doesn’t look particularly familiar, but I remember these toys.”

  “What else do you see, Jonah?” Doc’s voice asked.

  “Not much. No one else here. Eighties décor.”

  “Can you get to the door you saw earlier?”

  Jonah turned. “Yes. It’s the front door.” He moved toward the light brown, wooden door. Instantly the pain flashed like fire in his head. He gasped, putting a hand to his forehead. It did nothing to lessen the pain, but he didn’t take it away as he staggered toward the door.

  The knife in his head felt like it scraped out parts of his brain, now. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

  “Jonah?” Maggie’s voice echoed, sounding worried.

  “He’s crossing the pain threshold now,” Doc’s voice followed. “Jonah, I’m bringing you out.”

  “No,” Jonah gasped. “Not…yet.” He needed to get this door open. He didn’t know why, but he had to.

  He laid a hand on the doorknob, then snatched it back. The knob felt white-hot, as though a fire blazed on the other side.

  “Relax, Jonah,” Doc’s voice echoed, sounding farther away than before. “Come back to us now. Open your eyes.”

  Jonah stared at the doorknob as his head throbbed, visualizing it being cool and easy to open.

  “Why can’t you bring him back, Doc?” Maggie’s voice sounded faint, barely audible.

  “I’m trying,” Doc’s voice was almost a whisper. “It’s not working.”

  Irritation flared in Jonah’s chest. The pain, the heat of the knob, the balloons. They were all trying to control him. Jonah was done.

  In one swift motion, he grasped the doorknob and twisted his wrist, flinging the door wide.

  Pain exploded in his head and he screamed, falling to his knees, his eyes automatically slamming shut. Growling through gritted teeth, he forced his eyes open.

  Voices echoed louder in his head. Maggie sounded panicked. “Doc! It’s still not working! What’s happening? Bring him out!”

  “Let me try something.” Lila’s soft, echoing, calm voice soothed Jonah for some reason. He had the sensation of fingers touching his shoulder. Something…clicked in his head. Or was it his chest? The pain receded. Not completely, but enough for him to breathe.

  “Jonah,” Lila’s voice came again, this time close to his ear, as though her lips hovered directly above it. “Come toward my voice.”

  Jonah sat up with a gasp.

  Maggie, Lila and Doc all stood around his bed, staring down at him with concern. Lila’s fingers still rested on his shoulder. Doc’s hands hovered above Jonah’s chest, palms down. Grad
ually, Jonah became aware of a soft hum in his ears. A medical scan.

  “Jonah,” Doc said, sounding urgent. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired,” Jonah admitted. Where only a sheen of sweat covered him before, now it drenched him. Every muscle in his body felt like he’d worked it to exhaustion.

  “What happened, Doc?” Maggie asked. She and Lila both wore terrified expressions.

  “I don’t know the answer to that,” Doc said grimly. “Once he moved past the balloons, the activity in his brain changed dramatically. It’s like the memory drew him in and wouldn’t let him out again.”

  Jonah might have been nervous, if he wasn’t so exhausted. “Is that,” his voice sounded raspy, “supposed to happen?”

  Doc looked uncertain. “I’ve never seen such a thing before.” He dropped his hands and peered down into Jonah’s face. “What happened on your end, Jonah? What did you see?”

  “When I tried to open the door, the handle felt hot. The door didn’t want me to open it. Anymore than the balloons wanted me to get past them.”

  Doc straightened and nodded. “I don’t have an explanation for why, but it makes a kind of sense. There’s a lock in your brain, Jonah, and it doesn’t want to be opened.”

  Jonah raised an arm to rub the sweat from his eyes with some difficulty. His arm muscles felt as though he’d been lifting for two hours. “Lila,” he said, remembering her voice in his ear. “What did you do? The pain lessened, and I was able to breathe and come back on my own.”

  She frowned. “The same as before. I reached out to find the pain centers in your brain. To try and neutralize them, just as I did before, during the test. Just like before, when my energy touched your brain, your brain’s energy sucked mine in, wrapped around it, and it lessened your pain.”

  She turned to Doc. “Can you think of why that would happen?”

  Doc’s eyes slid from Jonah to Lila speculatively. “Perhaps. I have heard of instances where one person’s brain lacked certain energies or aspects of an ability. If another person possesses those aspects, the two can come together and their energies will work together and complement one another.”