MirrorWorld

I slip into the real world and dive to the side, but it’s unnecessary. The men and their weapons have shifted fully into the Dread frequency of reality. Their bullets can’t reach me here.

And then, in a flash, they can. Five Dread Squad men wink into reality. I see them for a moment as they pop into the darkness, but then I’m blind. Rather than fight in the dark, I let my vision slip into the world between. Luminous veins, some as thick as a man, cover the walls. “You don’t have to do this. You can still walk away.” But then the five men, who must have also adjusted their vision, take aim and fire.





57.

The bullets pass through empty space. At least, I’m assuming they do. I’m no longer there. I’ve slipped back into the mirror world, taking a soldier by surprise.

I don’t know who these men are or whether they have families or children who will miss them. But I do know they heard what I said: that peace is an option, that no one else needs to die. Maybe it’s the drugs, or they’ve been brainwashed to not think, or they simply believe Lyons’s Dread doctrine. I don’t know. But I do know that they are still willing to threaten the safety of every man, woman, child, and Dread on this planet in service of my father-in-law. So when I act without hesitation, it’s also without guilt.

The shock at my sudden appearance lasts just a fraction of a second. The soldier is already spinning his weapon toward me. But he’s not quite fast enough, even pumped full of drugs. My fist finds his jaw, sprawling him back, directly into the path of a soldier pursuing me between dimensions. The falling man is nearly cleaved in two by the newly arrived soldier, who has shifted from the real world to the mirror world inside the other, destroying the matter that was the man’s gut, cleaving a hole in his body just as I did the lab table back at Neuro. The falling soldier dies instantly and without a sound. The new arrival sees what has happened and screams. No one hears him, though. The chamber roils with the sounds of battle. Roaring, explosions, gunfire. Both sides have launched attacks.

I take a moment to look around, hoping to catch Lyons by surprise. But he’s already moved beyond my reach, running—actually running—toward the Dread mole, which has yet to rise from the ground. A wedge of soldiers frames him, firing at everything that moves.

A second Dread Squad soldier shifts from the real world to the mirror right in front of me, spinning, assault rifle raised. Ready to put a bullet in my head. But he’s too close for the assault rifle to be effective.

I grab hold of the still-hot rifle muzzle, pull the weapon out, twist it, and then slam it back into the surprised soldier’s face. While he’s stunned, I slip behind him and pull us both back to our home dimension, keeping my vision locked in the world between. The three remaining soldiers open fire, killing their comrade. While they continue the barrage, filling his oscillium armor with lead, I slip back into the mirror world and charge toward empty space. Hoping I’ve timed it right, I shift back, punching.

My fist connects with a man’s face. I’m back in the cavern, and then I’m not. While the punched man falls, I dive and roll through the mirror dimension before shifting again, grabbing hold of one of the still-upright soldier’s weapons, thrusting it up, and chopping him in the throat. While he starts to gag, I slip out of the real world once more, move to a new position, and return home again. I’m standing directly in front of the last soldier.

My strobelike assault, slipping in and out of view, slows the man, but the drugs keep him moving.

He discards his rifle and draws a blade, thrusting it at my throat. As the tip cuts a nick into my skin, I catch both of his hands in mine. We push against each other for a moment, maneuvering the knife away from and closer to my throat—that is, until I shift frequencies again, this time taking the man’s hands and the knife with me. When I shift back, the now-handless man is screaming. I silence him by turning his own hands around and plunging the blade into his heart.

Taking a moment, I flicker in and out of the world between, leaving behind the blood on my hands, not because it’s gross, but because it’s slippery. I recover a Vector assault rifle and several spare clips from the fallen men. I then take the headgear from the man with a knife in his chest, clutched by his own severed hands. The black mask and round goggles make me look just like one of them. Just another Dread Squad. After a quick check of the rifle’s chamber, I slip back into chaos.