MirrorWorld

“And he didn’t want me to—”

“I’m afraid he’s cast you aside. There was security footage of what happened on the roof…” She pauses to give me a sympathetic look. “For the record, few people have stood against a full Dread onslaught and recovered, let alone had the wherewithal to take action. I think it’s too soon to count you out, but now that you can feel fear again, Lyons sees you as a liability, and not able to take part in whatever he’s been cooking up at this second location.”

“Even with my ability to move between worlds?” Despite the question, I’m feeling a bit of relief.

“Strangely, yes.”

I sit on the bed. “Well, I agree with him. I can’t do this.”

She leans down, hands on knees, and levels a hard gaze at my eyes. “You can. And will.”

I find a drop of bravery left in the once-full bucket and return her stare. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Aren’t you curious about what happened while you were gone?”

Now that she mentions it, I am.

“First, the larger ramifications.” She sits on the bed beside me and lifts a tablet from her pocket. She turns it on and accesses a saved video. The image is split down the middle showing two locations. I recognize both, but Allenby explains anyway. “The footage on the left is from New York City. On the right is the security footage from the roof. Pay attention to the time stamps.”

She hits PLAY. The videos have no sound, but it’s not required. On the left, an angry mob marches down 42nd Street. It’s a familiar scene, and the people are framed by riot police and sky scrapers on either side, though the mob contains a good number of police officers, too.

The video on the left shows an empty rooftop, and then me. I zoom into the picture atop an ATV, taking to the air and landing in dramatic fashion. And then, in a blink, I’m gone, disappeared into the mirror world. I watch the time stamps, keenly aware of what is happening in the now-empty security feed.

And then, I reappear, curled up on the rooftop, looking pitiful and afraid.

Motion in the left video feed draws my attention. It started just before I reappeared. The scene in New York has taken a turn for the worse. Chaos erupts, but it’s not what I expected. The mob has turned violent, but the brawling isn’t between mob and riot police, it’s every man and woman for themselves. Even the riot police are taking part, attacking the mob and each other.

Allenby switches the video to a playlist of saved videos. She scrolls through various video clips, some from phones, some from the news, and some from security cameras. Those with time stamps show different hours, but the minutes match up. They’re videos from around the world. In different time zones. But I understand what I’m seeing. They were all recorded at the same time. Angry crowds, in all of them, seem to snap and go wild all at exactly the same time. The psychic bond shared by the Dread allows them to stay in contact instantly and globally. Killing that monster set off a global response from the Dread.

“Where there was violence before,” Allenby says, “there is now chaos. Cities are burning. War is imminent. The world is on the brink.”

I look away from the videos. “What happened here?”

“They got inside,” she says. “Those who were caught either went mad or killed themselves or the person closest to them. Some of us made it to the oscillium-walled panic room. Sealed ourselves inside. They were nearly inside that when you…” She sighs. “Not everyone made it to the panic room.”

She holds my gaze, waiting to see if I’ll understand.

“Not everyone could walk. Not everyone was awake.”

“Maya,” I whisper. “Is she … dead?”

“Worse,” she says.

“Worse?”

“I went for her. Carried her by myself. But they reached right out … There were tentacles. I dropped her. Couldn’t look. Couldn’t control myself. But I could see her. She was here, and then she wasn’t. Just like you.” She takes my chin in her hand, squeezing hard, forcing me to look at her. “They took your wife, Josef, and, God damn you, you’re going to get her back.” She lets go of me. “You’re the only one who can.”





41.

Allenby sets a stalwart pace down the hall. I struggle to keep up at first but push through the aches, and my body limbers up, feeling strangely renewed. I’m not sure where she’s leading me, but the innards of Neuro are a mess. Burn marks, bullet holes, and smears of dry blood mar the floors, walls, and in some places the ceiling. Allenby told me that fifteen people died when the Dread infiltrated the building through the elevator shaft. Would have been worse if the mob had gotten inside. Speaking of which …