The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(27)

Like before, the Pusher starts giving instructions. This time, though, as I follow the instructions Betty is getting, I feel a chill overtake my disembodied mind.

‘Walk up to Darren Wang Goldberg,’ is accompanied by mental images of where my bed is located and what I look like, plus a desire to help a person in need.

‘Take the patient to a private room,’ is accompanied by mental images and instruction that the doctor wants to have a conversation with the patient. A conversation that is likely going to upset the rest of the people in the room.

‘Administer 10mg of morphine by injection,’ is accompanied by images of a patient suffering, doctor’s orders, and a warning about a patient who’s confused and who might resist the shot.

‘Forget the injection,’ is the next instruction, and it is accompanied by a feeling of blankness. Of emptiness. A Zen-like state of not thinking about anything at all and being at peace.

‘Take the pillow, place it on the patient’s face, and hold it there.’ This macabre instruction is accompanied by a whole mental story. In this story, the person Betty is to smother has been begging her to do this for years. He’s suffering terrible pain that even drugs can’t make better. Incongruently, feelings of hatred for the patient are also introduced. The Pusher’s instructions seem to say that this is the person who beat Betty and put her in the hospital, the monster who killed Betty’s little boy.

Although somewhat in shock, I manage to think of how interesting it is to witness the way Pushing is supposed to work. I mean, when I tried it, I did it intuitively, using only a very basic example of this Pusher’s work. This is much more subtle. Much more sick. If Betty does what she’s instructed to do—and I have no doubt that she will—it will be proof that Pushers truly can make a person do anything they want. The justifications given don’t even need to make complete sense. Just some hook into the person’s mind is all that seems to be required. Just provide any rationale, and the victim does what you mentally force them to do.

Morbidly fascinated, I let the memory unfold. With precision, Betty carries out each instruction the Pusher has given her. As Betty performs each task, she seems to genuinely believe the instructions and the back stories the Pusher provided. When I asked her where she was taking me, she was convinced that I was going to speak to the doctor. She wasn’t being deceitful at all. What I find particularly frightening is that each step of the way, she seems to have only a vague idea of what happened previously. It’s a lot like a dream in which things seem to make sense, but don’t upon awakening.

It’s likely that by the time she starts killing my drugged, unconscious self with a pillow, she won’t even recall the morphine shot she gave me.

The full implications of my position begin to dawn on me as I exit Betty’s mind.



*



I’m back in the Quiet with the knowledge that the Pusher is trying to kill me—that maybe he has already killed me.

If that dose of morphine was too much, I might die of an overdose before the nurse even gets to me with the pillow. And if the injection doesn’t kill me, the suffocation certainly will. I don’t doubt that the Pusher knows what he’s doing, nor do I doubt that Betty is going to do as he instructed her.

Why is he trying to kill me? Is it because of my helping Eugene and Mira yesterday? That doesn’t fully make sense to me. If anyone did something outstanding to save Mira, it was Caleb. Or did the Pusher think I was the brains of the operation? That’s flattering, I guess, but completely wrong in this case.

I can’t think about this too long, though. Not when I’m uncertain whether I can still save myself.

A dozen possibilities run through my mind. Can I Push the nurse myself and override what my nemesis just did? But what if she kills me anyway? Or changes tactics? Or does it even faster? I don’t dare trust my life to something like that. Not unless I first put something more surefire into play.

Exiting the room, I look around.

Jackpot.

Just outside the room is a mountain of a man. An angry mountain named Frank, according to his name tag.

I touch his arm and focus.



*



This f*cking hospital is like a zoo, we think angrily. No one has paid any attention to Lidia for hours. We have to find someone in charge and try to talk some sense into them.

I disassociate from Frank’s thoughts. His plight is familiar. This place is definitely a dump. From what I gleaned in his mind, his wife needs attention much more than I do.

I feel a twinge of guilt over what I’m about to do. Frank might end up in trouble. Plus, I will be messing with his mind—and he’s done nothing wrong.

But self-preservation wins over other scruples, and I try to replicate what I did earlier today.

‘There is a woman in the other room who needs help. She’s having a seizure and needs someone strong to hold her down until the doctors arrive. Otherwise, she might hurt herself or others. Perhaps helping her will get someone to want to do us a favor, and Lidia will get help faster. It’s simple: just walk in, give the woman in there a huge bear hug, and don’t let go. If she starts struggling too much, fall on the ground with her in your arms. Lie there until the doctors arrive to save her.’

I work different variations of the same scenario in Frank’s mind. Compared to what I saw in nurse Betty’s mind, a lot of my instructions are probably redundant. But now is not the time to try to perfect my Pushing technique. I need to cover all the bases.