89
Heather didn’t need to glance at the clock on her nightstand to know that it had just ticked past two a.m. As the Thorazine continued to dissipate from her system, she had lost her need for sleep. And as it departed, the visions hammered at her consciousness. The one good thing about that was she was getting plenty of practice shutting them off. Over the last several hours, her confidence had grown to the point that she let herself wade more deeply into some of the waking dreams, just to test her ability to exit them whenever she desired.
But going more deeply left her exhausted. Luckily, one of the meditation techniques proved extraordinarily restorative, thirty minutes leaving her as refreshed as a full night’s sleep.
Heather had run through the probabilities from each test, and there could be little doubt that Mark was right. What she was experiencing had nothing to do with losing her mind. It was a side effect of exploring a new region of her brain. While their link to the Second Ship had unlocked the full potential of their brains, it had left them stumbling blindly through that vast, unexplored landscape.
But that was okay with her. Exploration of her potential might be dangerous, but Heather had always enjoyed risk. The knowledge that she wasn’t going insane empowered her.
Thrilling as that realization had been, a new discovery currently held Heather’s full attention. She had stumbled upon it by accident. As she prepared to immerse herself in another vision, she was momentarily distracted by a moth that brushed her hair.
Heather felt her perspective shift, her view of the moth zooming in until it seemed she was trailing along behind it. The flutter of its wings was preternaturally loud as it bobbed left and right in some dark space. The sight of clothes lined up on hangers triggered her recognition. This was her closet.
Suddenly, the moth’s forward momentum ceased. It spun about, flapping harder than ever, but going nowhere. Long sticky strands clung to its wings, legs, and thorax, each movement only increasing its ensnarement.
Heather focused her thoughts, drawing herself into the meditation, which returned her to the present. Looking around the room, she found the moth perched atop her lampshade. Without hesitation, Heather arose from her bed and walked directly to her closet. She opened the closet door, switching on the light as she reached inside.
There it was, high up in the far left corner, the same web she had seen in her vision, a fat black spider moving along an upper strand. Interesting.
Heather grabbed one of her tennis shoes, reached up and smashed the spider, sweeping the web away. Wiping the shoe on the carpet, she paused as she set it back where it belonged.
What had just happened? Had she changed the moth and spider’s futures? That was certainly true, but she’d done it to prevent one of her visions from coming true. No doubt about it. Her mind was doing a version of its math thing, allowing her to visualize the most probable outcome of a scenario. Just because she experienced the vision didn’t mean it couldn’t be changed.
The other interesting aspect of this vision was that it had focused on what she had been thinking about. Maybe she could learn to control that too.
But it didn’t explain the visions that came at her from nowhere. Maybe her subconscious was picking up signals that her conscious mind failed to notice. It was going to take a lot more experimentation to come to grips with how this really worked.
Returning to her bed, Heather paused to look at the moth. “You owe me, big time.”
A smile spread across her face at the thought that she had just become the first superhero for hapless insects.
Heather rearranged her pillows so that she could sit back against the headboard and settled in for another round of deep meditation. It wouldn’t do to start the next exercise even slightly tired from the last, at least not until she had gained more confidence.
Morning came quickly, the first light of dawn bringing her out of her practice session. She was so anxious to tell Mark about her progress that Heather considered sliding into some clothes without showering. A quick glance in the mirror changed her mind. Even a good friend deserved better than that.
By the time she had showered, dressed, and made her way downstairs, she could hear the Smythe’s talking to her parents by the front door.
“Hi, everyone…” The words froze on Heather’s lips as she saw the grim faces. Mrs. Smythe’s eyes showed clear evidence that she had been crying.
Heather’s mom reached out to put an arm around her. “Jennifer’s gone.”
“Gone?” The panic that clutched at Heather’s chest robbed her of her breath.
Linda Smythe began to sob softly, burying her face into Mr. Smythe’s shoulder. It was Mark who answered her question, his voice cracking with emotion.
“She ran away sometime in the night. She left this note.”
Heather took the paper from his hand. There, written in Jennifer’s beautifully precise handwriting, were the words that removed all doubt.
“Dear Mom and Dad. I’m so sorry to hurt you this way, but I have to find my own place in this world. I love you both. Say good-bye to Heather for me. Jen.”
No mention of Mark. The realization struck her like a slap in the face. As her eyes locked with his, all doubt faded away. The omission had not been accidental. Jennifer had known exactly how to hurt her brother, and from the look in those eyes, she had been successful beyond her wildest dreams.