The Enlightened (Mind Dimensions #3)(2)
“I’m just here to get some food,” I say to stop Bert from launching into his conspiracy spiel.
“Okay, but at some point we should definitely discuss it,” Hillary says with a small pout. “The idea of some very traditional people killing scientists because they don’t want progress is very interesting.”
Now she has my attention. Does she mean to say that either the Traditionalists of the Guide community or the Purists of the Reader community have something to do with Bert’s Luddite conspiracy theory about the killings of scientists? No, can’t be. It’s more plausible that she’s had too much of Bert’s Kool-Aid. Yep, that would explain a lot.
Still, I say, “It does sound like we should chat. But now isn’t the best time.”
“In that case”—Bert smirks—“I take it you’re also too busy to hear about my progress with the USB drive you gave me.”
Bastard. This is blackmail at its finest. “I guess I could find a little time in my super-busy schedule to hear about that,” I say, waving at the bartender—who ignores me in favor of a hot blonde.
“Well, that would get us back on the same topic,” Bert says triumphantly, “because the first three names on the list you gave me belong to prominent scientists.”
Oh shit. Sounds like these things might actually be connected. This will also complicate the story, or more precisely, the lack of an explanation I gave Bert regarding this drive. I can’t exactly tell him that Jacob, a Purist Reader, wanted the Russian mob to kill these people, can I? That’s a serious question. The only person who gave me the whole ‘don’t tell regular people about us’ speech was Jacob—not someone to be posthumously trusted.
For a moment, Hillary looks as though she’s concentrating.
Bert looks confused before saying, “We’ll talk about that later. What I really wanted to ask you was whether you and Mira wanted to go on a double date tonight. There’s this raw vegan place Hillary found on Yelp.”
Okay, that is weird. I’m convinced Hillary just Guided him—though in this context, it’s perhaps more accurate to say she Pushed him—and she did it to change the topic. The irony is that, unbeknownst to Bert, he’s in the middle of the biggest conspiracy theory of all. His new love interest can literally make him do anything she wants. He’s living the ‘my girlfriend can control my mind’ conspiracy, which even a tinfoil hat can’t prevent. Hillary wasn’t subtle about it either. Bert asking to go to a vegan restaurant? I had a hard time convincing the guy to try sushi, and that’s yummy raw fish. He’s a meat-and-potatoes guy to the core. Or maybe she included that little touch to make it clear to me that she had Guided him? Her willingness to Guide him makes it even stranger that she didn’t stop him from nerding out just a moment ago. If I weren’t Inert—incapable of entering the Quiet after dying there—I probably would have. This convinces me that despite all logic, she really enjoys hearing Bert’s conspiracy theories.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll ask her,” I say, wondering what Mira would think of this vegan food idea. Though she gets along with Hillary surprisingly well, all things considered, vegan food might be a problem for her. Mira is definitely a carnivore. If she were an animal, she’d be a panther—unlike Hillary, who’d be a hamster.
Finally getting the bartender’s attention, I place our food order.
“Please come back in fifteen minutes, sir,” the bartender says.
“Okay, guys. Mira’s waiting for me in the ocean,” I say. “I’ll be back in a few to get the food.”
I walk toward the ocean, looking forward to a swim. For the thousandth time, I try to phase into the Quiet. The fear of it failing is what I use as a catalyst, only I hit the usual mental brick wall.
Halfway to the water, I notice something strange: a big man wearing military-style clothing, on a beach. Startled, I look at him more closely... and my heart rate jumps.
I recognize the man.
It’s Caleb, who’s clearly looking for me. As soon as his eyes lock onto mine, his gaze sharpens, and he heads my way.
In a green blur, he cuts through the remaining distance between us.
Panicking, I turn around, intent on running the hell away, but he’s already next to me. Before I can take a step, I feel the cold barrel of his gun pressed against my naked ribs.
“We’re taking a walk, kid,” he says harshly. “Don’t make a sound.”
“What’s this about?” I try to keep my voice even despite the fear spreading through my veins. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“Shut up and keep walking,” he says, shepherding me away from the ocean.
We walk in silence down the stretch of beach that belongs to our hotel and exit onto the street, heading toward Collins Avenue. My bare feet hurt from the hot asphalt, but I’m too worried about my situation to focus on the pain.
After a couple of minutes, we approach a red Honda that’s parked by the sidewalk. “Get in.” Caleb jabs the gun into my side.
“Let me at least grab some clothes,” I say, realizing I’m about to take a drive dressed in nothing but swim trunks.
Instead of answering me, Caleb pulls out a syringe, and before I get the chance to scream, he jams it into my upper arm.
“Are you f*cking kidding me?” I manage to say, my speech slurring, and then I’m out.