by Dima Zales
“We don’t have much choice,” she whispers. “If your plan works and you get out, can you tell Eugene to call me, please?”
“Sure,” I whisper back, glad she can’t see my face. Her mention of Eugene reminds me of my guilt. “You guys haven’t talked recently?”
I’ve been wondering how the events in New York affected Eugene’s interactions with Julia, the girl whose father is dead because of us. In some stoic Russian tradition, Eugene has been avoiding the whole subject of Julia. Mira told me he’s been avoiding Julia too, though she saw that as a positive, having never approved of the relationship. And now it looks like she was right about Eugene taking the avoidance route. I can’t really blame him. I have no idea what I would’ve done in his place.
“No,” Julia whispers, this time louder. “I haven’t heard from him at all since—” She swallows audibly. “Since my father was killed.”
“I heard,” I say, trying to keep my voice expressionless. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she says, her voice catching.
“I’ll go announce my willingness to do my duty,” I whisper to change the subject. “You might want to return to your body.”
“Sure,” she says. “No offense, but I hope I don’t see you again.”
“None taken. I feel the same way.”
She doesn’t even know how serious I am. I never want to feel this guilt again—the guilt I feel when the subject of her father comes up.
Chapter 9
I enter the Hall and find Rose and Paul sitting in that special spot in the middle of the meditation circles. Not surprisingly, they’re meditating. The sound of my steps pulls them out of their concentration and they look up.
“I’ve thought about it,” I say to Paul when I get close enough so I don’t have to shout across the room. “If you’re really going to take care of the child, I’ll do what you want, but I have one extra condition.”
“Which is?” Rose asks.
“I want you to answer a few questions.”
“Sure,” Paul says dismissively, getting up. “Let’s talk on the way to my body. I’m sure I can answer whatever questions you might have.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Rose adds, rising to her feet as well. “Whatever Paul can’t answer, I’ll try to.”
“Okay,” I say as we start walking. “For starters, what is the Mind Dimension? What actually happens when we Split, as everyone calls it?”
They don’t answer for a bit. Finally, Rose says, “Well, Darren, despite everyone calling us the ‘Enlightened,’ there are many things we don’t know, and this is one of them, unfortunately.”
“But you must have some idea,” I press. “For example, Eugene thinks it’s an alternate universe.”
“We’re aware of that theory,” Paul says, holding the Temple’s big doors open for us. “We saw your memories, remember?”
“So do you think he’s right?”
“The one thing we agree on with that boy is that we’re not truly here in regular, physical form,” Rose says. “In the old days, we called what we do ‘Spirit Walking.’”
“That has a nice ring to it,” I say, “but I don’t believe in spirits.”
“I don’t either,” Paul chimes in. “But you have to admit, this experience has a certain ethereal quality to it.”
“I guess.” It’s disappointing that they know as little as I do. Or that they’re willing to share so little, a skeptical part of me suggests.
I walk in silence for a few seconds, trying to decide what else I want to ask. Then it hits me. “What’s up with the monks? Did you start a religion or something?”
“That is a long tale,” Rose says. “It all started centuries ago, when the first of us, the Enlightened, realized that Joining works best when the host’s mind is as clear from distractions as possible.”
“So they sought out meditators?” I ask, fascinated.
“Sort of,” Rose says. “They might’ve invented the practice or taken it further, but in a nutshell, yes. The rest fell into place. Once meditators started living side by side with our people, they created legends about us. It would be hard not to, since these ‘wise people’ knew their inner thoughts and probably showed off in other ways.”
“With time, the whole thing evolved,” Paul says, picking up the story. “It turned out that certain meditation regimes can make a mind more difficult to Read, and more importantly, to Push.”
“The monks can’t be Pushed?” I ask excitedly. I recall my attempt at Reading that one monk, and indeed, all I got was the serene-mind equivalent of white noise.
“We don’t know for sure how immune they are,” Paul says. “But our oral tradition claims they are, and this is why they were encouraged to learn martial arts over the years, to become our protectors of sorts.”
“Maybe you can test how much influence you have over one of them?” Rose suggests. “Once the business at hand is over.”
“I’d love to try,” I say, and mean it. If I were to stick around, I’d do exactly that: try to Guide one of these monks. As is, though, I hope to be out of this mess long before such an interesting experiment can happen. A shame, as I find the idea that someone can resist us rather intriguing.
We talk about this some more. I learn how Buddhism actually branched off from the monks who lived with the Enlightened and not the other way around, as I assumed. Rose and Paul explain to me that they’re not deified by the monks, but are seen as normal people who have achieved enlightenment. This belief is where the nickname ‘the Enlightened’ originated. Of course, once the nickname was given, the Enlightened appropriated it, making it their own and going as far as calling the visions inside the Joining ‘Enlightenment.’
“What can you tell me about my dad?” I ask once my curiosity about the monks is satisfied. “What was he like?”
“A lot like you,” Rose says, smiling, and proceeds to tell me about young Mark.
Like me, he was impatient and a big troublemaker as a kid. He was perhaps even more rebellious than I was as a teen—a difficult feat, I imagine. Through it all, I glean a lot of information between the lines. I picture someone like me growing up under the thumb of someone like Paul and can easily imagine that person running away from the Temple and doing everything to spite them. Hell, not only would I not have impregnated the girl of their choice, I likely would’ve burned the whole freaking Temple down on my way out. Mark showed some restraint, in my opinion, but obviously Rose and Paul don’t see it that way.
“I’m tired,” Rose says after we’ve been walking for a while. “I’ll sit on this stump and wait to be pulled out, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, Rose,” Paul says. “We should be there in a few hours.”
“I’ll practice my meditation then,” she says and takes up a comfortable position on her makeshift chair.
The rest of the way, Paul and I walk in silence. I don’t have many questions left, nor am I sure I can talk to him without getting into a verbal fight.
My grandpa is about as far from my favorite person as it gets.
* * *
“We’re here,” Paul says when we finally reach the car.
I say nothing, doing my best to keep comments such as ‘no shit, Grandpa’ firmly in check.
Paul approaches his body. The frozen Paul is still staring at the frozen me through the window. The frozen Caleb is still where he was originally, behind the wheel.
I realize something at this point. When Paul phases out of the Quiet and causes us, in turn, to do the same, Caleb will be caught by surprise. He wasn’t told about any of this. There’s a small chance he’ll be disoriented as a result.
Good. I’ll take any advantage I can get, no matter how subtle.
Without much ado, Paul walks to his body and touches his frozen self on the neck.
I’m in the car again. With my robe gone, the cold hits me. It’s been so long that I forgot about this cursed air conditioning.
“Caleb,�
� Paul says imperiously, “untie him.”
“So you finally went for it?” Caleb says, winking at me as he unties the rope around my wrists. If he was at all surprised to be back in the real world, he recovered annoyingly quickly.
“I talked to her,” I say, giving him an ambiguous lift of my eyebrows. “That was good advice.”
“I would’ve loved to see Julia’s reaction,” he mutters as he unlocks the car. “She must’ve freaked,” he adds as he opens the door and exits.
“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty,” I mumble in case he’s listening.
When he’s completely out of the car, my whole body tenses.
This is my moment. This is when I make my move.
I turn as though to exit and hope I’m blocking Caleb’s view with my back. Then, as fast as humanly possible, I reach into the glove compartment.
The gun is, of course, still there, just as it was in the Quiet when I did my clandestine snooping.
I grab the weapon and hold it tightly against my right hip as I open the car door and exit. I then proceed to shut the door in as casual a gesture as I can manage under the circumstances.
“There really ought to be a road leading to the Temple,” I hear Caleb saying across the car to Grandpa, who’s on my side, just a couple of feet away.
Paul replies with something along the lines of ‘stop bitching.’ I don’t register the exact details of the conversation because of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
As though in slow motion, I step toward Paul, who’s looking at Caleb and not paying me any attention. At that moment, Caleb turns to look at something on the road, and I make my move, jamming the gun into Paul’s back.
“Don’t you dare move,” I whisper in his ear.
“Darren,” he says, clearly shocked.
“Shut up,” I whisper. “Or I’ll fucking shoot you.”
His body sags against my gun, shoulders drooping. He doesn’t say anything else, so I take it as a sign of capitulation and whisper, “Now tell Caleb to go lie on the ground where I can see him.”
“Caleb,” Paul says, his voice quivering more than I would’ve expected. “Go lie on the road. Now.”
“What?” Caleb turns, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s got a gun to my back,” Paul says, and I jam the gun in harder, causing him to stop explaining.
Caleb’s arm moves toward his vest. Shit. He’s reaching for his gun.
“Drop it, Caleb,” I order, moving my gun down to press against Paul’s leg. “Or I’ll show you how serious I am.”
“Do as he says, and lie on the ground behind the car,” Paul barks. He clearly doesn’t think I’m bluffing, even though, to be honest, I might be. “Do it, Caleb. This is not a request.”
Caleb’s features darken. I see him fighting the urge to do something heroic. Please don’t, I will him. Suddenly, Caleb reaches a decision and gingerly walks over to the middle of the road. I assume Paul phased into the Quiet and convinced him to play ball. I guess Grandpa doesn’t doubt my determination.
When Caleb gets far enough away, he slowly, almost lazily, lies down on the ground a few feet away from the back of the car.
“Get that rope,” I tell Paul, pointing to the back of the car where there’s a bundle of rope. I think it’s the very rope Caleb used to tie me with. Payback’s a bitch.
As Paul gets the rope, I press the gun more firmly into his back and keep Caleb in my peripheral vision. The big guy isn’t moving.
“Now tie his hands,” I order Paul as we approach Caleb.
As Paul bends down, I see a blur of movement and realize my mistake.
I underestimated Caleb’s reach.
As Caleb’s fingers close around my ankle, I shift my balance in a desperate maneuver and push Paul at Caleb. The old man falls on the big guy with an undignified shriek.
He’ll be okay, I tell my conscience to alleviate the pang of guilt. It’s not like he fell from a height.
As Caleb deals with a sudden armful of wriggling Grandpa, I stomp on Caleb’s right wrist to free myself. This part is completely guilt-free. I even savor it. When Caleb still doesn’t let go, I stomp on his arm harder, like I would try to squash a huge spider.
His fingers finally release my leg.
I step back a few feet, aiming my gun at Paul’s leg, and tell him in a ragged breath, “I’ll count to ten. If Caleb’s hands aren’t firmly tied behind his back, I will put a bullet in your kneecap. One...”
Paul rolls away from Caleb, stands up on shaking legs, and fumbles to pick up the rope he dropped when I pushed him.
“If I hear you say anything, I will also shoot,” I say to reestablish my authority. They could phase out at any moment and have long conversations without me knowing, but I doubt it would help them.
“Two,” I say as the old man gets the rope. “Three... four...” I stretch out every second, trying to time it so I won’t actually have to shoot anyone. “Ten,” I finish when I’m convinced Caleb’s hands have been thoroughly tied. “Good. Now give me his phone.”
When Paul brings me the phone, I motion with the gun toward the car and tell him, “Get behind the wheel.”
“Why do you need to take me?” Paul protests, giving me a disgruntled look. “Just tie me up and leave.”
“Nice try, Grandpa,” I say. “You might’ve already Split to alert the Temple. They could be on their way to stop me as we speak. No, thanks. If you’re with me, any surprises we might come across will have consequences for us both.”
I see a tiny glint in his eyes. Was it disappointment or something else? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was pride. Was he impressed by me acting like a conniving bastard? Does the knowledge that he passed on one of his personality traits give him a warm, fuzzy feeling?
“Get in through the passenger side so I can keep the gun on you,” I instruct him, and without complaining, the old man complies.
Climbing over the seats looks difficult for him, and I feel another slight pang of guilt. But I quickly squash the feeling. Paul got himself into this mess. I would’ve been happy to continue my vacation and not be dragged into all this. My abduction, carried out under his orders, created the chain of events that culminated in his current discomfort.
“You’ll regret this,” Caleb tells me as I climb into the car.
Instead of responding, I slam the passenger door with such force that some of the paint chips off the Honda. Paul cringes, having been startled by it.
“Drive,” I tell him, planting the gun firmly in his side.
And he does. He drives in silence, which I don’t mind. With my free hand, I put my Miami hotel address into the GPS app in Caleb’s phone. It looks like we’re about five hours away and moving in the right direction.
We ride in tense silence for about an hour before the forest gives way to a suburb.
When we pass by a blue sign, I tell him, “Stop the car and get out.”
“You’re just going to leave me here?” Paul asks once he’s out of the car.
“Would you rather I shoot you?”
“No, but how will I—”
“Stop. Don’t even try to play the feeble old man card on me. We just passed a sign that says there’s a rest stop less than a mile away. You can walk it.”
His face is unreadable for a moment, but then he says, “Caleb was right. You will regret this.”
“I highly doubt it,” I say and scoot over into the driver’s seat. Then I close the door, missing Paul’s nose by a hair, and slam my foot on the gas pedal, hoping the exhaust fumes hit that asshole in the face.
Chapter 10
When I get on the highway, I crack open the window to let the warm Florida air in and draw in a deep breath, reflecting on how lucky I was that my desperate ‘grab a gun and kidnap Grandpa’ plan actually worked.
Now I need to make sure my mom, Lucy, is all right. Pulling out Caleb’s phone, I put in her number from memory. Her current cell number is what used to be our househ
old’s landline, back when my moms lived in the city. That’s a number I’ll never forget, and I’m grateful to her for keeping it. I’m terrible at remembering phone numbers these days.
The call goes straight to voicemail. I’m guessing that means she’s on the phone and doesn’t want to interrupt her conversation for an unknown caller. Or at least I’m hoping that’s the case. I refuse to think of other possibilities. I’ll have to try calling her again in a bit.
As I drive, I alternate between going the speed limit and doubling it. I decide against speeding on the fourth fluctuation. The last thing I want is for the police to stop me. The idea of being taken in, almost naked, for grand theft auto is not at all appealing. Though, on second thought, I could probably Guide my way out of it.
Pulling into a large rest stop, I waste a few minutes buying myself some clothes and flip-flops. Thankfully, I’m in Florida, so no one seems to think I’m crazy for driving around in my swimwear—else there'd be more people that I’d need to Guide. As is, they probably assume I’m a tourist. While I’m at it, I take a bathroom break and grab a bag of chips—something I would not normally consider food. Since I don’t have any money, I have to Guide the cashier to put his own money into the register and allow me to pay him back via PayPal through Caleb’s phone.
As soon as I’m back on the road, I call Lucy again.
To my relief, she picks up on the third ring.
“Hello, who is this?” she asks.
“Hi Mom, it’s me, Darren. I had to borrow someone’s phone. Can we talk?”
“Oh, Darren, hi. How’s your vacation going?”
“Great, Mom. But this isn’t just a ‘how are you’ call. I have something strange I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” Had this been Sara, my worrywart mom, her voice would’ve sounded concerned by this point, but not Lucy. Ever the detective, she just sounds curious.
“What are you working on?” I ask. “And I know how random it sounds, but please just tell me.”
“Hmm... not much, to be honest. Not work-wise, anyway. We just closed this high-profile embezzlement case...”
