The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(76)

A new collection of neurons suddenly appears in front of me.

The being is alive, with its synapses firing frantically, same as Mimir’s. This being is noticeably smaller than Mimir, though—about six times smaller to be precise.

“Yet I’m twice as big as you, kid,” a new voice in my head says. “Besides, it’s not the size of the mind that matters, but how you use it.”

“You’re another Omni.” I’m overcome with awe at this realization. “The one that’s me and Caleb combined, right?”

“No, you’re actually schizophrenic, with two voices speaking in your head, not to mention delusions of grandeur.” This thought comes with a smirk. “Obviously that’s what I am. Call me Daleb.”

Ignoring the spike of anxiety his joke provoked, I reply, “You just combined our names together and put the ‘D’ of my name first. Does that mean mine is the dominant personality that makes you ‘you’? Your tone sure sounds more like Caleb’s.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Daleb responds, seriously this time. “I’m both, but neither one. There is no predominant anything. I’m me, not one of you.” Then, with another mental smirk, he adds, “I’m Daleb because I didn’t want to be Carren, which sounds like a female.”

“So you think of yourself as male?”

“Gentlemen,” Mimir’s thought intrudes. “We’re trying to save Caleb. I would think of all of us, you, Daleb, would not want to put his life in jeopardy.”

“The mighty Mimir is right,” Daleb replies. “The one that’s slightly farther from the cluster is Caleb. Easy to spot. Please save him, Darren. I’ll owe you big time if you do.”

“How did he herd them all into one spot like that?” I wonder. “I wish he hadn’t.”

“Read him to find out,” Daleb suggests. “Maybe he has a visual of where they’re each standing.”

I teleport to the big cluster and single out Caleb. I intend to do what Daleb suggested: Read Caleb to find out how his mission went.

Coherence comes quickly this time, and with it, I enter Caleb’s mind.





*





We run toward the Temple doors, ignoring our pursuers’ bullets. We focus on those doors as though they’re the gates to heaven.

Then we half jump, half slide—a culmination of all those times we stole base as a kid. We’re inside. We jackknife to our feet and turn to close the doors. We’re going to make it. The heavy doors are almost shut; there’s only a sliver left.

The cursed sword manages to slide in through the crack.

Our environment slows down a little, as it often does while we’re in battle mode.

The sword jabs toward our torso. We dodge, but don’t let go of the doors. Then the sword slices to the left and excruciating pain follows. Stupefied, we see the surreal image of our left hand falling to the ground. Realizing what just happened intensifies the pain in our arm.

We keep fighting, forcing our body to stay alert to prevent it from going into shock, which would undo everything.

All wounds heal once we exit the Mind Dimension, we remind our freaked-out lizard brain.

With our bulletproof vest, we lean on the sword.

The weapon doesn’t break, though it should have, but the bitch wielding it decides to pull it back, probably planning to thrust it right back in.

Capitalizing on the temporary reprieve, we shut the doors and then stick what’s left of our left arm into the door handles, the way one would with a stick. With our right hand, we also hold the handles shut. We know our forearm can only take a few seconds of pounding.

We wish we could look at the watch, but it’s on the floor, attached to our severed hand.

It’s way past eight, kid, we think. What the f*ck are you doing to me?

A kick on the door generates a bone-breaking surge of agony—





*





I’m back in Level 2, welcoming its pain-free emptiness.

Those were the last moments of Caleb’s mission. He clearly did as we asked by pulling Kate and the others in, but the delay Eugene and I experienced caused him a lot of hassle and pain. The reason Kate and her team are clustered so closely together is because they’re standing next to each other in the Quiet, by the door of the Temple.

Remembering the pain Caleb suffered to get this plan to work makes me mentally shudder again. At least his pain will be temporary. Once I’m done in Level 2, he’ll be back on the battlefield, wrestling with Eleanor, with all his limbs still attached to his body.

“He’s a tough mofo,” Daleb’s thought reassures me. “And he’s been through worse pain.”

“We have a big problem.” The tone of Mimir’s thought is full of concern. “We still don’t know who is who.”

“Why is that such a big issue?” I wonder, shaking off the terror.

“Because, obviously, if you start with the Super Pusher, he will join us in Nirvana.” Daleb’s thought is snide in that irritating, Caleb-like manner.

“Do we know for certain that he’s even among them?” I reply as calmly as I can. As with real Caleb, I can’t let him get to me, but the dilemma I face is that if Daleb is anything like Mimir, he can read my mind, annoyance and all.