The Rule of Thoughts (The Mortality Doctrine #2)

A mountain range appeared below them, its rocky peaks covered in brilliant white snow, sparkling in sunlight. An evergreen forest nestled in the valley, and a river wound through it like a snake, glinting and sparkling. Everything was crystal clear, the air cool and crisp, clean and smelling of pine. Michael didn’t understand why they’d been taken to such a place or who had done it. Was this Kaine’s grand way of getting them alone?

Another dark square appeared in the distance, and soon they passed into it. Just like before, all senses were cut off, and once again panic struck him. He thrashed, trying to break free of the strange hold. When that did no good, he used the moment of stillness to close his eyes and once more tried to penetrate the code.

At least this time he could see something, though it was blurry. He reached for it mentally, but the harder he strained, the more elusive the numbers and letters became. He swore to himself he wouldn’t give up, that he’d just keep trying to program them free. He could do this. If anyone could do it, he could.

Finally, he sensed a light behind his eyes just as the rush of wind hit his body, its roar pounding his ears. He looked to see that they’d come out of the darkness again, this time above a vast ocean, its waters churning with a storm. The beam shone behind him once more. Rain slashed down from the sky and lightning lit up the grayness in flashes, followed by the rumbles of thunder. He couldn’t tell how high up the rocketing beam flew, but it felt like they were suspended just below the clouds. Whitecaps marked the huge waves below as they crashed into each other.

A black rectangle appeared; the purple beam headed its way.

Darkness.




They came out into a strange world of dull colors and rain. Pyramids dotted the earth below, the downpour running down their sloped sides, creating rivers in the sand. The land was desolate—there were no people, no trees, nothing besides the pyramids and the rain. Michael thought he recognized the place from a game he’d played years earlier, but he was too exhausted to inspect it more closely. He was soaked. His body ached, his skin hurt, his mind was shutting down. Another attempt to scan the code proved pointless.

Darkness.




Jungles stretched below him, hundreds of shades of green and boiling heat. Monkeys swinging through the trees, stirring the mist that hung in the sweltering atmosphere. There was a clearing filled with huge boxy machines covered with weapons turrets; there were flashes of lights and thunderous sound. Mechanized soldiers ran along the ground, shooting each other with bright red lasers.

Darkness.

A city at dawn, skyscrapers nearly close enough to touch, a forest of concrete and metal as far as the eye could see. Vehicles flying through the air. A woman stood on top of a building, looking at Michael as he raced past. She had three eyes and no hair. Her legs had been replaced by six silvery contraptions that made her look like a robotic spider. She opened her mouth and a stream of fiery lava burst out, heading straight toward Michael.

Darkness.

World after world, game after game, Michael flew, attached to the purple beam. The pain consumed him. He barely saw what was below, streaming past, alternating with the black nothingness.

The roar and rush of wind. His mind clouded by confusion. Kaine had to be behind this, but why?

A searing hot desert, air warped by the heat. Monsters—hideous mutant humans with raw skin and deformities—marched across the dunes.

Darkness.

Fields of grass, with a wide, lazy river slicing through. A huge wooden ship sailing along its length. People on its deck, pointing skyward.

Darkness.

An alien moon, full of domes protecting cities beneath.

Darkness.

Outer space, the largest spaceship Michael had ever seen, thrusters burning.

Darkness.

A medieval village, raiders burning and looting and people screaming.

Darkness.

A dozen more worlds.

Darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

Michael passed out.




He came to, to someone shouting his name.

“Michael!”

Blinking, Michael tried to raise his head, but he couldn’t. It felt as if his organs had been rearranged inside his body. He lay on a flat surface, that same eerie purple light shining all around him, and with a start he realized that he wasn’t moving anymore and that the beam was no longer a beam. It had been replaced by a glowing plane that stretched endlessly in every direction. The sky above him was black, eternal. Michael closed his eyes again, but could sense the purple light beneath him.

Someone touched his shoulder.

“Michael.”

Relief filled his aching chest. It was Sarah. He opened his eyes again, but he couldn’t see her—she was behind him. Bryson plopped down and sat right in Michael’s sightline.

“Hey, man. You okay?” his friend asked.

Michael answered with a groan, then forced himself to sit up. Dizzying pain swam through his head, but it faded after he took a few deep breaths. He looked around at the endless purple surface, glowing, then up at the black sky.

“Do I even need to ask?” Michael muttered.