The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(26)

“I have to take that,” he says, pausing the game.

He picks up the phone. As soon as whoever is on the other line starts talking, Kyle’s expression turns somber, and he walks away from my bed. Must be detective business.

I make myself busy by exiting the fighting game and checking to see if I can get onto Wi-Fi in this place. That would let me buy more games if I’m bored, which I’m bound to be when everyone leaves. Assuming I need to stay here, which I hope I don’t.

“I have to go,” Kyle says when he comes back. He looks upset. “Something urgent has come up.”

“Aren’t you Lucy’s ride?” I ask.

“Yes, but she’ll have to cab it. This can’t wait.”

“See you later. Thanks for stopping by,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment.

As he leaves, I realize that boredom might come sooner than I anticipated. Wi-Fi is a no-go, though at this point, given my experience with this hospital, I’m not surprised.

Luckily for me, the fighting game has a mode where you can fight the computer, so I start playing.



*



I’m in the middle of a particularly nasty fight when I realize my bed is moving.

I look back and see a woman in a white coat pushing it.

“Where am I going?” I ask. “And who are you?”

“The doctor wants to have a private conversation with you,” says the woman in a monotone while continuing to push the bed. “I’m your nurse.”

I try to process this information. Why would a doctor need to take me to a private room to talk? How bad is the news he wants to give me? Or did my family and friends cause such a ruckus that there is going to be a ‘tell Darren off’ session?

We don’t end up going far. There is a little office room to the side of the large hall. The nurse closes the door and starts preparing some kind of medication.

“What are you doing?” I say, trying to sound calm. I’m afraid of needles, and the stuff she’s prepping looks to be a shot.

“Just something for the pain,” she says.

“I don’t need anything,” I say. “I’d rather have the pain I have now than the pinprick of a needle.”

She approaches me, smiles, and takes the cable that goes from my IV to my hand. She unplugs it and connects it to the syringe she’s holding.

“See, no shot,” she says.

“I still don’t want the shot until you tell me what’s in it—”

Her pressing the syringe cuts me off.

My heart rate picks up.

Did she just give me a shot after I explicitly told her not to? Why would she do that?

Suddenly, a wave of warmth begins to spread though my body, causing some of my worries to dissipate.

No, something is not right. I force myself to think through the happy, comfortable feelings spreading through me. It’s beginning to be difficult to care, but with a herculean effort, I make myself worry again.

Maybe she wants to steal your organs, I tell myself, trying to come up with the scariest scenario.

Time seems to slow down for a moment, and then the noises of the hospital disappear.

I find myself lying in bed next to my other self, and I’m overcome with momentary relief.

I made it. I phased into the Quiet.

My head is now completely clear of whatever she gave me, and I’m determined to figure out what the f*ck just happened.





Chapter 12


I get up and look at myself. My frozen self’s pupils are tiny, like pinpricks. This must be the effect of whatever drug she gave me, as her own pupils are the normal black circle one would expect in a well-lit room.

Fleetingly, I note the bandage around my head; it looks as ridiculous as I thought, but that’s not what I care about right this moment. I’d be willing to walk around Times Square bandaged up like a mummy, if that would help me get out of this predicament.

I notice that not only do I feel free from the drug she gave me, but the pain from my wound is also nonexistent, as is always the case in the Quiet.

I walk over to the woman and look through her pockets.

She has a real-looking hospital ID, which is a good sign. She’s an RN named Betty March. That’s encouraging to some degree—she knows about drugs and how to deliver them. But surely they aren’t allowed to force something into someone’s veins under these circumstances.

Time to do a little Reading, I decide, and touch her temple.



*



“Your boyfriend will be seen soon. Please go back and wait,” we say to the girl who’s been pestering the staff.

I, Darren, realize that this is a memory in which we just spoke with Mira. She’s without Bert or my mother, which means this memory happened a while back. Whatever I’m looking for in Betty’s memories—and I’m not yet sure what that is—happens later. I decide to experience every moment from here to the present to make sure I understand why she did what she did.

As the memories go by, I develop a healthy respect for the nursing profession. It’s tough. Finally, I get to what I think I need. She’s in the ladies room at the time.

We’re sitting on the toilet, and time stops. There are now more of us in Betty’s head.

The feeling I have is the same as the one I had in the head of that Russian gangster, the one controlled by the mystery Pusher. I feel the presence of another mind—a spooky apparition that has no gender or identity. It’s just a feeling that there’s someone else here.