The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(8)

Then again, I can’t just leave my moms, Thomas, and Mira here. What if the Super Pusher takes control of Caleb and does something to them?

I return to the burial site and formulate a quick plan.

The men holding Thomas will get off him, cuff him, and drag him to Cypress Hills Street.

The ladies holding Mira will take her to Forest Park Drive.

I Guide my moms to run in the direction of the Jackie Robinson Parkway.

All of them—the cops holding Mira, my moms, and the Quarterback and co.—are instructed to grab a cab and meet me at what I now think of as Eugene’s new lair, the lab I funded for him in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.

I then Guide every single remaining person, including the priest, to stop the monks and anyone else who’s not part of the current ceremony. Since the majority of these people are cops, I have to make the important decision of whether to allow them to use lethal force. As annoyed as I am by these orange-clad idiots, they’re just tools of the Enlightened, and I’m loath to see them killed. So I Guide the armed officers to empty their guns before the operation starts, but pretend as if they’re armed and dangerous. Seems like a good compromise to me.

Preparations complete, I decide to finally leave the Quiet.

I run toward my body, slam into my frozen self, and as the world becomes noisy again, I keep running.

In my peripheral vision, I see everyone take action, on their way to execute my commands. All this mass Guiding would’ve made my aunt Hillary—the person who usually does it—proud.

I sprint so fast that after a mere minute at this pace, I feel like my lungs might burst. I ignore the pain and run even faster, vowing to add more cardio to my usual workout routine. Finally, when I feel as though I’m about to have a heart attack, I see the welcome sight of the road at the edge of the cemetery’s green grass. Knowing that it’s the infamous East New York neighborhood beyond those gates doesn’t diminish my elation. The six-foot fence in front of me is all that stands in my way. I climb the fence, trying my best to not get impaled by the leaf-shaped spikes, and carefully jump down.

When I land safely on the pavement, I look back through the fence. I’m not being immediately pursued, but that’s no reason to relax and do something stupid, such as wait until they catch up with me.

I phase into the Quiet and examine Jamaica Avenue, the street in front of me. To my right, I see the subway in the far distance and a bus stop a block away. No go. I’m not taking public transportation in this part of town. Plus, I’d be moving slower than if I got a ride. I look across the street and see a drab Honda Civic.

Much better.

I cross the road, approach the frozen Honda, and open the driver’s door. The rotund woman inside must’ve just come out of the deli, given the shopping bag she’s holding. I touch her on the forehead and focus. Once inside her head, I give her some Guidance:

Look across the street. That strapping young man is your nephew. You decided to lend him your car. You’re going to leave the car running with the keys inside and then locate a cab. Your nephew might keep the car for a few days. You will not worry about your vehicle, nor will you report it stolen. In a couple of days, you’ll remember that you left your car at a Hertz car rental in Bensonhurst. When you get the car, make sure to look in the glove compartment, where your nephew left you a thousand bucks.

I’m happy with my work and hope that I can use this car to pick up the rest of my crew, which would work out so much better than them looking for cabs.

I phase out and the earlier exhaustion hits me. I ignore it. I have enough strength for one final sprint across the street. Thus determined, I run toward ‘my’ vehicle.

Something catches my attention.

The lady I just Guided is looking at me with wild eyes. She’s gesturing at me and her mouth is moving as though she’s shouting, but the car windows muffle whatever it is she’s saying. I decide she must be happy to see her ‘nephew.’ As a jest, I wave back—and at that moment, I hear the screech of tires and feel a world-ending thump.

Shit, I think as I fly through the air.

My head hits something hard, and I black out.





Chapter 4





I wake up nauseous.

Am I hung over?

I open my eyes.

The light hurts, so I shut them again. I examine myself and realize a lot more hurts than just my eyes. My body feels like one big bruise.

The nausea gets worse, and it’s not because I’m drunk. It actually feels like a very bad case of carsickness. Then it hits me: I am in a car, and I’m being driven somewhere.

I open my eyes and force them to adjust despite the pain. Shoddy Brooklyn streets pass me by. The car I’m in is moving relatively fast, and the ride is very shaky, which is a big contributing factor to my nausea. I’m grateful I’m riding shotgun; when I get motion sickness, it’s usually worse when I ride in the back.

Bits and pieces of what happened come back to me.

I was crossing the street; then something happened.

I decide to phase in to figure things out from the Quiet. Overloaded with adrenaline, I easily enter the Quiet. When the sound of the engine is gone, I notice that the nausea is too.

Without the sick feeling, my situation becomes clearer. For one, I recognize the woman behind the wheel. I recall Guiding her to give me her car, the very one we’re in. What the heck is she doing driving me? She was supposed to leave her car for me. And where are we going?