“What’s the deal with the dream books? You ignored our questions earlier.”
I took a sip of water, rinsing away the salty aftertaste, and wondered just how crazy this would sound once I verbalized it. “Dad mentioned dreaming to me. He recalled falling asleep and waking in someone else’s life. On Earth. Each night he returned, living the man’s mundane existence. He didn’t understand. He went to work with the man, sat through his children’s recitals, took showers. It was bizarre, but also kept him sane, or so he said. It grounded him. Reminded him there was a home out there other than Rimia. Earth continued, even if he and Clayton weren’t on it.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that. Did my dad experience this too?”
“Dirk said it was just him. He didn’t mention Clayton.”
“What does that have to do with your recent interest in dreaming?” she asked. “What do you hope to learn?”
“The Believers are obsessed with ‘attuning’. They think they can link to the Unknowns. What if that’s what my father was doing? Linking to a person on Earth somehow.” I had to admit, it did sound ridiculous, but Veronica lost her smirk.
“Wouldn’t that mean your father is—”
“No. I don’t think so. What if you needed a different part of your mind to perform this? What if you had to be unblocked in some fashion? Maybe being on Rimia did this to my father, allowing him to attune or dream walk. He occasionally saw the man wearing a robe, sneaking off to meetings with other secretive contemporaries. The guy was a Believer. I know it. He thinks so too, after we discussed it.”
“This is a lot to take in, Rex. You’re suggesting the attuning is real? That your father did it from Rimia?”
“That’s what I think. It’s only a theory, and you know how those go. Hardy had a hundred theories about the Bridge, and only one of them was accurate. Anyway, just a thought to consider.” I buttered a piece of fresh bread.
“The Objects are getting closer. What if they attempt to attune?”
“We can’t predict that outcome. Are the Unknowns anticipating a welcoming committee? Do they have any idea what Earth holds for them? Or are they finally returning home, like Hardy thought, ready to destroy us and enjoy the resources?”
“I wish we knew exactly what happened across the Bridge,” Veronica said. “There’s no way they lived there for eight years without learning a few things. I don’t buy it.”
“Neither do I. And how can they speak the language? As if the mystery wasn’t stressful enough before we found them. Now we have to contend with that on top of the Believers and the Objects.”
Veronica’s hand slid across the table, taking mine. “Rex, I don’t want you to go tomorrow.”
“Into the building?”
“Yeah. I have a bad feeling,” she said.
“Me too, but our options are limited. Tripp and the others are infiltrating tomorrow. We already said we’d do the same.” I didn’t pull away, enjoying the physical contact.
“Then let me go. I’ll do the investigating. I can pull it off as well as you can.”
“If only you were an overweight man with a smoking habit, like my friend Bruce. No, the uniform barely fits me. We can’t change the plan at this point. It’s happening, Veronica.”
“What if something happens to you? What am I supposed to do?”
I stared into her beautiful eyes, wishing this was a proper date, not whatever this was. “I won’t leave you.”
“Not by choice.”
I pulled out my wallet, handing her Evan Young’s business card. “If there are any issues, contact him. Against this insane backdrop, I trust the guy.”
She took the card, sliding it into her purse. “I don’t, but I’ll hang on to it.”
I checked the time again, anxiously awaiting contact from Marcus.
It came two hours after we finished dinner, and it startled me in the driver’s seat. Veronica was resting beside me, and I shook her awake. “It’s Marcus. He’s going to the hotel.”
She blinked quickly, inhaling a deep breath. “Make sure he takes a long detour. In case they’re following.”
I relayed the suggestion, and Marcus assured us he’d be extra cautious.
An hour passed, and we sat in the hotel room, the connecting door open to Veronica’s side of the space. I was feeling groggy after a big meal and a long night of surveillance, so I brewed a cup of bad coffee made in the single-serve machine above the minibar. The news played on the TV, reshowing the Vice President’s address. Someone was discussing the President’s health, claiming he was suffering from a genetic heart condition.
I muted it after the first hour of recycled speculation and replays of the same footage. I hopped to my feet, grabbing the pistol from the bed as someone knocked on the door. Marcus was in the hall, glancing down the corridor. He lifted a hand to knock a second time, and I let him in.
“Whoa, you going to shoot me?” he asked.
“That depends. Did you learn anything useful?” I joked. “Seriously, though. You good?”
“I’m fine.”
Veronica rushed over, giving Marcus a hug. “Tell us what happened.”
“You guys act like I was in danger,” he said. “Wait, you didn’t really think…”
“No. Of course not,” I said. I’d been worried, but not for his life. Well, maybe a little bit.
“Okay, so these guys are definitely the Believers. They took their time.”
“Start from the beginning,” I said, wanting every detail.
Marcus tossed his jacket near the door and kicked off his sneakers, leaving them in a messy pile. “I could use a coffee too.”
Veronica activated the single-serve machine, and he kept talking.
“I exited the bus a block away and met a girl on the street walking to the Access Plaza. She was cute. Bangs and balayage hair. Big eyes, nice smile.”
“Were you trying to break into a cult or get laid?” I asked him.
“Who’s to say I can’t do both?” He laughed but lost his smirk when I glowered at him. “Fine. Have it your way. I introduced myself and asked if she was going to this gathering. Her name’s Rose, and she goes to an art school here in Seattle. She saw the ads and has been struggling with balancing her finances, school, and a job serving at a diner.”
“What did you say about yourself?” Veronica asked.
“Stuck to the plan. I’m a computer nerd, getting my software engineering from North Pacific. She bought in. We arrived together and found a group of fourteen waiting outside the doors. We all chatted, and ten minutes after eight, a woman came to the entrance, letting us in. She was nice, like you’d expect a cult recruiter to be. She asked us questions about ourselves, complimented the girls’ hair and the men’s jackets. The kind of crap that they think people want to hear to gain confidence.”
“What did she say to you?” I asked, curious.
“She dug my sneakers. Said I had a good aura.” Marcus chuckled and drank some of the coffee, grimacing as he set it down on the TV stand. He quickly glanced at the news and shook his head. “They brought us to the third floor. There are two elevators. The left is closed for repair.”
“That was the one Bruce is waiting on a part for,” I said.
“Right. We all piled in somehow, and it was tight. When I suggested I’d wait with Rose for it to come back, our host happily said we could fit. So we did.”
“Then what?” Veronica asked.
“We arrived on the third. We entered a foyer, with glass doors that were propped open. Rex, I think you’re going to need to rethink your plan. Each floor will have locked doors. I’m sure of it.” Marcus sat on the end of the bed, and I took the seat at the desk, rotating in the chair to face them.
“I assumed that. I was hoping to find keys inside.”
“The place is pretty clean. Doubt there’s a set of keys lying around,” Marcus told us.
“What about security?”
“Cameras for sure. I know the company, and I think
we can tap in for a few minutes without any issues. Blind them.”
“And guards?” I asked.
“None in plain sight, but there’s a front desk in the main lobby. Doesn’t seem like anyone’s there on the weekends.”
“What next? You’re on the third floor…” I was intrigued and needed to hear what this Believers faction was doing.
“Things changed a bit. Holly was the host’s name, the woman that greeted us. She lost her smile when we entered the office buildings. Her tone was casual, but the moment the others met with us, something shifted. There were three of them: two men and another girl. They were all in their twenties for sure, except one man. He was older, probably your age, Rex. Wore a nice suit jacket. A stylish tie. Introduced himself as Barkley.”
Veronica grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. “What did the space look like?”
“Basic office setup, like a business operated out of there. Something about blind sales or window coverings. There were sample books in the lobby waiting room, and a display room off to the side. They brought us into a boardroom and sat us down, offering us refreshments. One of the guys, a skinny kid with a Punjabi accent, asked why they wanted to meet on a Saturday night at eight in a closed tower.”
“What did they say?” I asked.
“Barkley said it was his family business, and hosting on a weekend night was the best way of weeding out people who weren’t serious about joining a support group like this. It sounded silly, but the others all bought in. There was a subtleness with this guy, the way he smoothly responded to things and spoke to people. He’s good at what he does. I almost believed him for a second.”
“Every cult needs effective people to draw them in. And don’t forget, some of the most infamous serial killers were intelligent and charismatic,” I reminded him.
“Sure. This guy could have been Manson 2.0 for all I know. They started by asking what drew us here. We went around the table, with each student saying their piece. Some were super nervous, and one guy wouldn’t even speak. By the time it circled to me, I told them I was afraid of disappointing my parents. That all their hard work had gone into funding my college experience, and my grades were suffering, and I thought I might not be able to do it. I mentioned my depression last semester. That maybe it would be easier to just kill myself than go home to their judging gazes.”
“Marcus, this wasn’t how you really felt, was it?” I whispered.
“Not at all, but it worked. I was picking up a vibe from them, and it was clearly what they wanted to hear. A couple others spoke up, saying they’d also considered it. The guy who’d kept silent earlier admitted he’d tried and failed. Another thing he couldn’t do well.”
Veronica glanced at me. “That’s terrible.”
“When they were done, they asked the four of us to stay behind. The rest went down in the elevator with Holly, and Barkley said we were special. He told us we didn’t need to have that kind of burden any longer, and that his proprietary methods would help heal the wounds we’d been inflicted with. Rose was there with me, and she cried. Can you believe it? This guy had them like putty in his palms,” Marcus said.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“He asked if we could take a few days away from school. That we’d need to travel to Colorado to join his experience. He claimed we’d return revitalized and well-adjusted, ready to take on the world and make it ours.”
“Colorado? What’s there?” Veronica grabbed her phone, searching for answers.
“I checked. Looks like the dates coincide with a hardware show in Denver. We’re leaving tomorrow. Driving there, I guess. In buses.”
“Nothing else? Just like that, you’re traveling to Denver with them?” Veronica shook her head slowly. “I don’t like this, Marcus.”
“You wanted me to break in. I think I have,” he said.
“She’s right,” I said. “Maybe we have enough. Knowing it’s in…”
“No, Rex. It’s not. What if they’re meeting in Denver for some crazy annual cult experience? The Objects are growing closer every day, and they have to be shifting focus. They need to plan their moves, and I bet this is it. I mentioned the Objects, casually bringing it up in conversation to see what this Barkley would say.”
I leaned forward in the chair. “And?”
“He acted like they might be a good thing for us as a people, but didn’t elaborate.”
“When do you leave?” Veronica asked.
“In the morning. Nine AM.”
“From the Access Plaza?” I didn’t want that to interfere with my plan.
“No. They gave us another address,” he said. “Farther south. Looks like a warehouse lot for their Bezitrial corporation.”
“Okay, and you want to leave with them?” Veronica sounded as concerned as I felt.
“I have to.”
I glanced at the phone in his hands. “I doubt they’ll let you keep your cell.”
“Yeah, that crossed my mind. But I’ll find a way. I’m going to bring my tablet, and hopefully, I can discover where they store the stuff and send you a message when we arrive. I’ll make sure to contact you.”
“What about tomorrow? I need your help with the security system before you leave,” I said.
“We’ll have to go earlier,” he suggested.
“Bruce said he’d come at eight. So how about seven?” I hoped an hour was adequate.
“That’ll work. As long as your pal Bruce doesn’t show up before you.” Marcus reached for the coffee, drinking more of the cheap blend.
“I have a feeling Bruce doesn’t do anything early, especially on a Sunday. Okay, everyone to bed. Tomorrow’s a big day. Any idea where I should be searching?” My thoughts drifted to all those stories in the tower.
Marcus slapped a palm to his forehead. “Actually, yes. I forgot. Barkley left before us, using the sole elevator. We waited for it.”
“Where did he exit?”
“Twenty-seventh story,” Marcus said.
“Then I’ll go there first.”
11
The sun hadn’t quite risen, and the sky glowed a pale pink in the east, a promise of the day to come. The uniform was baggy on me, and I rolled the legs up, tucking the backs of them into my socks. Bruce’s name was sewn in a white oval over the breast, and I laughed when I saw it, picturing the two of us inside wearing matching uniforms, both with identical names.
The tablet had the front door’s access code, and I was glad to see the device powered on. Bruce had no passcode security on the tablet, making my life a hell of a lot easier. The high-rise’s outside keypad accepted my eight-digit PIN, and blinked green as the glass doors unlocked.
Marcus was with Veronica in the car, and he assured me the cameras were off for the next twenty minutes. That was the best he could manage on short notice. He claimed it was a simple loop-around within radius of the tower’s network. I didn’t understand a word of it, and he stopped explaining when I mentioned the details weren’t important.
My gun was nestled in the deep pocket, and it jostled too much as I walked. The doors were locked behind me, and I peered around the dark lobby. Even the basic lights were mostly off before the sun came up. It was five to seven, and I suspected they were programmed and on a timer.
The front desk greeted me, and I jogged around it, trying to move as fast as I could. There were two chairs, possibly for a building receptionist and security. I wasn’t positive. The doors weren’t locked, and I slid one open, finding a radio inside. I left it and tried the next, seeing half-eaten chocolate bars and a couple of cans of warm soda. Nothing useful.
I was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Breaking in. I had some tools in my bag, pretending they were meant for the elevator repair. When I arrived at the elevators, a few lights blinked on. I jumped, thinking someone was inside the lobby with me, but it was only the automated system.
“Relax. Breathe, Rex,” I whispered to myself.
The doors opened, and
I entered, pushing the number twenty-seven. Marcus had been at this very spot less than twelve hours ago. The trip was short, but I still felt the long minute or two drag on as I reached my destination.
The lobby here displayed a business name: Bezitrial Archives. This had to be it. My pulse quickened as I imagined entering a room full of ancient artifacts collected decades ago by their previous Sovereign. The thick glass doorways were the only thing blocking my path.
I sent Marcus a message, asking if there was an alarm on this floor. He responded a couple of seconds later, saying there was none listed on the separate stories. Just the main building. There wasn’t any evidence of cameras here. These Believers were a cocky bunch.
The elevator beeped and I spun around, seeing the numbers falling as it descended toward the lobby. “Wait… what’s that mean?” I had to hurry. It might automatically return there after being exited. Despite the uniform I had on, I wasn’t familiar with office tower elevators.
I was about to use a heavy hammer to crack the glass near the lock, when I glanced back at the elevator. It was rising. I needed to hide. There was a wooden desk under the sign on the wall, and I hurried there, ducking under the gap. I pulled the chair closer and grabbed my gun, making sure the safety was off.
The elevator arrived, and I heard the doors open. For a second, nothing happened, and I prayed it was a glitch. Then came the footsteps, heavy and deliberate as someone slowly entered the reception area.
“Come out,” a deep voice said.
I stayed frozen, trying to keep my breathing quiet, which wasn’t easy to do cramped under a desk with your life under duress. The footsteps grew closer, and I clutched the gun like it was a lifeline. My phone buzzed, and the steps ceased. I fumbled it out of my pocket and deactivated the vibrate feature, seeing Veronica’s quick message appear.
Veronica – Marcus says the cameras will be online in ten minutes. He went to meet the bus. Update?
I couldn’t risk dropping the phone to key in a message, so I returned it to my jumpsuit pocket.
The man walked away, and I knew then I’d never get the answers I needed without acting this very moment. I pressed my eyelids tightly together, took a deep draw of air, and leapt from under the desk, sending the chair in the opposite direction as I dashed ahead. The security officer’s eyes followed the rolling chair, and I brought the gun up quickly, aiming square at his wide chest.
Lost Time (The Bridge Sequence Book Two) Page 10
