MirrorWorld

“What happened to the people outside?”


“The Dread influence faded. Slowly. But within an hour, most of the people outside lost steam and left. When only a few remained, I went out and spoke to a woman. She was just sitting on the pavement, rocking back and forth. Her knuckles were bloody from pounding on the walls.” She glances back at me. “She was twenty years old. A college student. Poor thing had no memory of why she was there or what had happened.”

“Why the big show?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“The Dread can make neighbor turn on neighbor.”

“Family against family,” she adds.

I motion to a spatter of blood. “To the death.”

She stops walking. “What’s your point? Or is it a question?”

“Both.” I use the pause to stretch. “They could turn everyone against each other, like they are in the cities, but not everywhere. The human race could literally murder itself into oblivion. So what’s with the mobs? The government standoffs? The slow build toward global chaos? What’s the point?”

“I’m not sure there is a—”

“They’re smart,” I say. A chill runs through my body as the memory of the Dread mole’s mental intrusion surfaces. I push the images from my mind. “If they’ve chosen to attack us with such a slow build to annihilation, there’s a reason.”

“You might be right, but it’s too late for speculation now.” She starts moving again, double-timing it.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a reason you’re still here, and I’m here with you. Lyons hasn’t said so outright, but I think he’s done studying them. He’s out for blood.”

“He can do that?” I ask. “I thought I was—”

“I’m not sure you’re as unique as we believed, at least in terms of being able to move between worlds. If the fear can be overcome with drugs, he might not need you … at least not for a single assault. He has spoken, in the past, about creating a kind of mirror dimension WMD. Something that would affect their world but not ours. I didn’t think he’d done it, but now I’m not so sure. It makes sense that he’d keep it from me. I always opposed the idea, which is probably why I’m here now. Left behind, as it were. Mass destruction in either dimension will be catastrophic. The effects are totally unknown. Not even theoretical. But extermination is never the solution.”

“Then what is?”

She stops at the stairwell door, hand on the knob. “I don’t know.” She opens the door and steps into the stairwell, maintaining her pace while heading up.

I stand still, eyeing the stairs.

Allenby stops at the first landing. “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m in a bit of pain.”

“They made you feel fear,” she says. “I didn’t realize they also made you a whiney bitch.” She glances back, grinning wide.

Despite the circumstances and pain, Allenby manages to get a smile out of me and to sufficiently motivate me to tackle the staircase. Like the walk down the hall, each step simultaneously hurts and helps. By the top of the second flight, I’m in pain, top to bottom, but also feel stronger, more focused, and a little less fearful.

A little.

By the top of the sixth flight, I’ve worked up a question that’s been nagging at me. “How did it happen? With Maya.”

Allenby stops next to a door labeled 6. “What?”

“How was Maya taken?

She frowns. “All I saw were tentacles—”

“Medusa-hands.”

“Right. It reached out of thin air, wrapped her body in those…” She shivers. “It just yanked her away from me, and they both disappeared. I couldn’t do anything. They got to me with the fear.” She stares at the floor, shaking her head in shame. “I ran. Didn’t even look back.”

I haul myself up the final step. “It’s all in our heads. The fear.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Dread communicate without speaking. It’s like a network. Sounds like whispering, but it’s in your head. Not your ears. Thoughts are broadcast. The closer you are, the stronger the signal, and the louder the whisper. Their presence makes people uncomfortable. It’s like pressure waves moving through frequencies, rippling through to our world, where we feel them as brushes with the supernatural. The closer they are to our frequency, the stronger the overlapping ripple and sense of being watched, or followed, or hunted.”

Allenby grins. “Did they also make you smarter?”

“Just guessing. But that wasn’t the important part. It’s the whispers, the … psychic communication that does the real damage. It’s how they trigger the deep, irrational fear that drives people to do horrible things. But the Medussa-hands … they can get inside your head and push specific thoughts. Working together, they can make a person do anything.”

“Like kill their son or run into traffic,” she says.

“Right.”

Allenby pauses. Looks back like she’s waiting for more. “And?”

“What?”