The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)
Dima Zales & Anna Zaires
Chapter 1
My phone makes the most annoying noises. Why did I put it next to the bed again?
I grudgingly struggle to wake up. The bothersome noises continue, so I grab the phone.
“Hello?” My voice is gravel-textured in my own ears. How long have I been asleep?
“Darren, it’s Caleb. I’m waiting downstairs. Come on out.”
The adrenaline rush hits me, and I phase into the Quiet. I’m lying on the left side of the bed near my other, frozen self. There’s a pitiful, ultra-concerned look on his face. My face.
I reach for my wristwatch on the nightstand. It’s 6:13 a.m.
The events of the prior days flash through my mind with startling clarity. The trip to Atlantic City, when I met Mira for the first time. Having my hacker friend Bert look her up. Meeting her and her brother Eugene in their Brooklyn apartment and learning that I’m a Reader. Mira getting kidnapped by the Russian mob, and our going to the Reader community for help. Caleb and Julia helping us. It all comes back to me, followed by the worst part.
I Pushed someone.
It’s an action that no Reader should be able to do. Something that only Pushers, the people Readers hate, can do.
I took away someone’s free will.
And now Caleb is here, at the crack of dawn.
Shit. My heartbeat jumps. Did Mira already rat me out? Maybe to the entire Reader community? And if she did, what does that mean for me? What do Readers do with Pushers? I remember Mira threatening to kill every Pusher she met. What happens if I’m one of those Pushers? If the other Readers found out I Pushed that guy to throw himself between Mira and that bullet, what would they do? Nothing good, I’m sure of it. But why would she reveal what I did? The only reason she’s alive is because I made that guy take a bullet for her, and she has to know that.
Or could Caleb be here for some other reason? I do owe him a trip into someone’s head, as weird as that sounds. Could he be here to collect? That would be preferable to the alternative of him knowing that I’m a Pusher.
If I’m even a Pusher, that is. Yesterday, I seemed to have proven that I’m a Reader. Proven it twice, to two different people. They were quite convinced of my Readerness. Does that mean Readers have no real understanding of what Pushers can or can’t do, or does it mean something else entirely . . . perhaps that I’m neither a Reader nor a Pusher? Is there a third possibility? For all I know, there are other groups out there we haven’t even heard of.
Or perhaps I’m both. A hybrid. Is it possible that one of my parents was a Reader, and the other was a Pusher? If so, I would be a product of blood mixing—something that Eugene seemed to think was a huge taboo. And he and Mira are half-bloods, so he’s probably more open-minded about this issue than pure Readers. Does this mean that my very existence is against some stupid rules? That could explain why my biological parents were convinced someone wanted them dead.
It could explain why they were murdered.
I could sit here in the Quiet thinking for hours, but all the thinking in the world won’t make Caleb leave. I need to figure out what he’s doing here.
I get out of bed and walk naked toward the door. In the Quiet, no one can see me, so I don’t worry about it.
I go down to the first floor wearing only my slippers and exit through the front door. There are actually a surprising number of people—motorists, pedestrians, even street people—frozen in that moment in time. They must be insane to be awake so early.
It takes me only moments to locate Caleb’s car. It’s parked precisely where he dropped me off yesterday. He seems to be a creature of habit.
He’s holding his phone. It’s kind of funny knowing I’m on the other end of that call. I examine the inside of the car carefully, looking for any clues as to why he might be here. I find nothing except two coffees in the cup holders. Is one for me? How thoughtful. I do find a gun in the glove compartment, but it doesn’t really worry me. Caleb’s the kind of guy who probably has guns hidden all over the place, just in case.
I don’t go anywhere near Caleb himself—a touch could pull him into my Mind Dimension, as he calls the Quiet, and he’d know I was snooping. Not to mention the wisecracks he’d make about my being naked.
Disappointed that I couldn’t get any extra information, I head back to my apartment. I touch my frozen self on the hand that’s clutching the phone, and phase out of the Quiet.
“What’s this about, Caleb? I just woke up.” My voice still sounds hoarse, so I cough a few times, covering the phone speaker with my left hand.
“Come out, and we’ll talk,” he replies.
I’m not in the mood for a long debate. Knowing Caleb’s capabilities, if he was here to do me harm, I probably would’ve woken up with his gun in my mouth.
“I’ll be down in twenty minutes,” I tell him.
“Make it ten,” he says and hangs up.
Some people have no manners.
I quickly get up, brush my teeth, and get dressed. Then I whip up a green smoothie—my answer to breakfast on the run. Three frozen bananas, a big handful of cashews, a cup of spinach, and a cup of kale go into the blender. A few noisy seconds later, I’m on my way out with a giant cup in my hand. I often do this smoothie thing to save time on those few occasions when I actually go to the office.