The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(82)

I lie there, considering the answer to that question. A cowardly thought enters my mind. I wonder whether everything that happened today—the attack on the Temple, the Assimilation, the too-deep jumps into memories, and most importantly, Eugene’s machine that took away my abilities, maybe forever—were delusions brought on by falling and hitting my head. There’s only one way to test the realness of the situation.

I try to phase into the Quiet as I usually would.

I can tell it didn’t work, because I hear, “Sir, do you want me to radio in for medical help?”

“Yes.” I open my eyes. “Have them helicopter in a lot of medical help, but not for me.”

As the man says something into his radio, I touch the side of my head. I have the mother of all bumps there, but otherwise, I feel well enough. My right hand hurts—I’m still clutching my phone in a death-like grip—so I pocket the object.

“How long was I out?” I ask the sheriff.

“You were out?” He looks at me, confused. “You fell down a second ago.”

And before I can respond, a gunshot rings out through the woods.

The sudden sound makes me realize that there’s been relative silence coming from the direction of the Temple, which is good news. However, since I didn’t succeed in reversing James and because George is simply Inert and not neutralized, I know I need to get back there to see what’s happening.

“Help me up,” I say as I try to stand on my own. The sheriff and a young deputy help me to my feet. Once I make sure I’m not too dizzy to stand, I tell them, “Follow me. We’re not far now.”

I run as fast as I can without repeating the falling fiasco. I think I’m getting the hang of running while hurt, hungry, and exhausted. If they make this into an Olympic sport, I might try for the gold.

Surprisingly, running clears my mind when it comes to dealing with the things that transpired in Level 2. It even dampens my gnawing fear about the possibility of being Inert forever, though I might just be exercising my favorite coping mechanism—which, according to Liz, is denial.

Finally, I see the clearing through the trees that surround the Temple.

A couple of officers, including the sheriff and the young guy who tased me, step out of the forest first. I quickly follow them. This is when I see them staring at a figure in the distance.

George.

He’s about twenty feet away, and as soon as he sees the cops, he yells, “Protect me as per your orders—”

Then his eyes focus on me, and even from this distance, I can see powerful emotions contorting his face—a little bit of horror, mixed with fear and hatred. He must’ve instinctively tried to phase into the Quiet and failed.

With substantially less confidence in his voice, George continues. “Twenty-three. Order twenty-three. Attack that man.”

He points at me at the same time as he takes out a shell from his pocket and loads it into his shotgun.

Though I can’t phase into the Quiet, the world does seem to slow down—the effect of an adrenaline rush.

In this slow-motion state, I realize I don’t need my powers to know what’s going on in George’s mind. He thought he could use these cops against me; he must’ve implanted some kind of code word in their minds that would allow him to take control of them, but that was before I overrode his orders.

In my most commanding tone, I say, “Don’t listen to him. He’s an escaped convict, apprehend him using—”

I don’t finish my sentence.

George must’ve caught on to my reprogramming. He stops reloading his gun and takes a few steps backwards. As he does, he retrieves something from his pocket.

My entourage reaches for their guns, their movements so eerily synchronized they seem rehearsed.

I take out the long-barreled tranquilizer gun Hillary gave me—a reminder of how this mission was supposed to be surreptitious and casualty-free—from the back of my pants.

Meanwhile, George is holding a round and familiar-looking object. I recently saw its cousin in the folds of Edward’s robe.

“Grenade!” I shout in case the cops missed it.

I’m about to say more, but the words die in my throat when George frantically pulls the pin and throws the grenade in my direction.

Conditioned by having seen this type of scenario play out a thousand times in movies, I do what the about-to-get-blown-up people always do: I fall to the ground. More specifically, I drop as though I’m about to do a push up.

I look up and see that George has done the same thing, only he isn’t peeking; he’s holding his head in both hands.

Instantly, I realize dropping to the ground won’t save me.

The grenade landed a few feet away from me. If falling on the ground saved people from grenades at this distance, they’d be pretty useless.

Paradoxically, for someone about to die, I’m more upset about my lack of powers. If I hadn’t lost them, I’d phase out, walk to the Temple, make sure everyone was okay, and then, eventually, when my Depth ran out, I’d go out with a bang. In fact, given my Depth, I could’ve pulled Mira in and spent a lifetime with her in the Quiet, similar to what the Elders do. No, wait, Mira is either Inert or unconscious right now, so that wouldn’t have worked . . .

Why hasn’t the grenade exploded? I wonder, the thought interrupting my glum reflection. Must be a time-delay rather than an impact one, I realize in the next moment.