The Enlightened (Mind Dimensions #3)(22)

“So they sought out meditators?” I ask, fascinated.

“Sort of,” Rose says. “They might’ve invented the practice or taken it further, but in a nutshell, yes. The rest fell into place. Once meditators started living side by side with our people, they created legends about us. It would be hard not to, since these ‘wise people’ knew their inner thoughts and probably showed off in other ways.”

“With time, the whole thing evolved,” Paul says, picking up the story. “It turned out that certain meditation regimes can make a mind more difficult to Read, and more importantly, to Push.”

“The monks can’t be Pushed?” I ask excitedly. I recall my attempt at Reading that one monk, and indeed, all I got was the serene-mind equivalent of white noise.

“We don’t know for sure how immune they are,” Paul says. “But our oral tradition claims they are, and this is why they were encouraged to learn martial arts over the years, to become our protectors of sorts.”

“Maybe you can test how much influence you have over one of them?” Rose suggests. “Once the business at hand is over.”

“I’d love to try,” I say, and mean it. If I were to stick around, I’d do exactly that: try to Guide one of these monks. As is, though, I hope to be out of this mess long before such an interesting experiment can happen. A shame, as I find the idea that someone can resist us rather intriguing.

We talk about this some more. I learn how Buddhism actually branched off from the monks who lived with the Enlightened and not the other way around, as I assumed. Rose and Paul explain to me that they’re not deified by the monks, but are seen as normal people who have achieved enlightenment. This belief is where the nickname ‘the Enlightened’ originated. Of course, once the nickname was given, the Enlightened appropriated it, making it their own and going as far as calling the visions inside the Joining ‘Enlightenment.’

“What can you tell me about my dad?” I ask once my curiosity about the monks is satisfied. “What was he like?”

“A lot like you,” Rose says, smiling, and proceeds to tell me about young Mark.

Like me, he was impatient and a big troublemaker as a kid. He was perhaps even more rebellious than I was as a teen—a difficult feat, I imagine. Through it all, I glean a lot of information between the lines. I picture someone like me growing up under the thumb of someone like Paul and can easily imagine that person running away from the Temple and doing everything to spite them. Hell, not only would I not have impregnated the girl of their choice, I likely would’ve burned the whole freaking Temple down on my way out. Mark showed some restraint, in my opinion, but obviously Rose and Paul don’t see it that way.

“I’m tired,” Rose says after we’ve been walking for a while. “I’ll sit on this stump and wait to be pulled out, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, Rose,” Paul says. “We should be there in a few hours.”

“I’ll practice my meditation then,” she says and takes up a comfortable position on her makeshift chair.

The rest of the way, Paul and I walk in silence. I don’t have many questions left, nor am I sure I can talk to him without getting into a verbal fight.

My grandpa is about as far from my favorite person as it gets.





*





“We’re here,” Paul says when we finally reach the car.

I say nothing, doing my best to keep comments such as ‘no shit, Grandpa’ firmly in check.

Paul approaches his body. The frozen Paul is still staring at the frozen me through the window. The frozen Caleb is still where he was originally, behind the wheel.

I realize something at this point. When Paul phases out of the Quiet and causes us, in turn, to do the same, Caleb will be caught by surprise. He wasn’t told about any of this. There’s a small chance he’ll be disoriented as a result.

Good. I’ll take any advantage I can get, no matter how subtle.

Without much ado, Paul walks to his body and touches his frozen self on the neck.

I’m in the car again. With my robe gone, the cold hits me. It’s been so long that I forgot about this cursed air conditioning.

“Caleb,” Paul says imperiously, “untie him.”

“So you finally went for it?” Caleb says, winking at me as he unties the rope around my wrists. If he was at all surprised to be back in the real world, he recovered annoyingly quickly.

“I talked to her,” I say, giving him an ambiguous lift of my eyebrows. “That was good advice.”

“I would’ve loved to see Julia’s reaction,” he mutters as he unlocks the car. “She must’ve freaked,” he adds as he opens the door and exits.

“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty,” I mumble in case he’s listening.

When he’s completely out of the car, my whole body tenses.

This is my moment. This is when I make my move.

I turn as though to exit and hope I’m blocking Caleb’s view with my back. Then, as fast as humanly possible, I reach into the glove compartment.

The gun is, of course, still there, just as it was in the Quiet when I did my clandestine snooping.

I grab the weapon and hold it tightly against my right hip as I open the car door and exit. I then proceed to shut the door in as casual a gesture as I can manage under the circumstances.