The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(30)

“You know you’re very lucky,” she says out of nowhere.

“I am? Why?” Spotting Eugene’s car, I head for it.

“Your family,” she says. “It must be nice to have people who care about you so much.”

“I guess,” I say, shrugging. “Though it can sometimes be a nuisance.”

“People never appreciate what they have.” There’s a bitter note in her voice, and I wince internally as I remember that her parents are dead. Shit. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. I rack my brain for something to say as we approach Eugene’s car, a Camry, and get in.

“How are you?” Eugene says, giving me a concerned look.

“I’m fine. Just a scratch. Please start driving—I want to get out of here. There’s something I need to tell you guys.”

In the moments that follow, I describe the attempt on my life. When I get to the part about the Pusher, Mira orders Eugene to stop the car. He complies, pulling over to the side of the road as I continue with my tale.

I don’t sugarcoat my Pushing, even though I know that I might be losing whatever pity-induced goodwill I might’ve had with Mira. I hope she appreciates my honesty, though. I hope she sees I had no real choice in the matter.

“That’s pretty insane,” Eugene says when I’m done. His eyes are wide with shock.

Mira doesn’t say anything. Instead, she looks like she’s concentrating.

“Darren’s right about the Pusher,” she says after a moment. “The f*cker who killed our parents was there, at the hospital.”





Chapter 14


“What? How do you know that?” Eugene gives her a startled look.

“I Split to the Mind Dimension just now, of course,” Mira replies. “Then I walked back to the hospital and Read the people there. I had to see if I could learn something more than Darren discovered about our enemy.”

“And,” Eugene prompts impatiently.

“And I didn’t find any sign of the bastard. Only that tell-tale presence Darren described in the woman’s mind.” She looks upset as she says this.

“But how do you know it’s the same Pusher?” Eugene asks.

“I just feel it. I can’t explain it,” she says curtly, and I know exactly what she means. There was almost a tone of voice to the Pushing instructions I glimpsed in the nurse’s mind—the same tone that I heard in the Russian mobster’s head the other day.

“What did the people I Pushed think about the whole ordeal?” I ask worriedly. “Are they going to call the police? Do you think I’ll be wanted for questioning?”

“No. The resident and the visitor have amnesia, as does the nurse,” Mira says, her expression now hard to read.

“Amnesia is a known side effect of Pushing,” Eugene explains. “If you get someone to do something small, something they can justify to themselves, they can internalize the story the Pusher gives them or invent their own reasoning, creating an illusion of free will. But when it’s something big, something they can’t fathom doing by free will, the brain chooses to forget the incident altogether. It’s a type of defense mechanism, I guess. They either don’t remember what happened, or have only a vague recollection. My father thought it was akin to alcohol-induced amnesia.”

I sort of understand. The alcohol amnesia thing happened to me once. I woke up next to Jen, this woman that I couldn’t picture myself being interested in, beer goggles or not. Yet apparently we’d hooked up, and she told me a story that sounded like it happened to someone else.

“Right, so you’re off the hook,” Mira says to me. “I don’t think anyone is going to be questioning you for that.”

“Okay, good,” I say, starting to feel cautiously optimistic. “Let’s keep on driving. Start the car.”

“What if he’s still there?” Mira says, frowning. “Maybe we should go back.”

“No, that’s a terrible idea,” Eugene says firmly.

“I agree,” I say. “Being nearly killed twice in one day is plenty for me.”

“You guys are such wimps,” Mira says scornfully.

“I am not,” Eugene objects. “We’re blocks away from Brighton Beach, where the Russian mafia hangs out all the time—and the Pusher has used them in the past. He can Split, walk over, find a lackey, and make him come kill us. In fact, the hospital is so close that the Pusher can just call them on the phone. For all we know, they’re already at the hospital by now. I’m all for vengeance, but if we get killed, we won’t get any.”

“Exactly,” I say. “I’m too sick from the drugs and the head wound. I need to rest before I take another bullet for the greater good.”

“Fine.” Mira blows out an annoyed breath. “You’re probably right. So what now?”

“I’m going to stay at a hotel,” I say. “They now know my name, which means they might know where I live. I’m not taking any chances. In your case, it’s even simpler. They do know where you live, so I suggest you follow my example.”

“That’s a good idea,” Eugene says. “They are really after us, so it pays to be cautious. Needless to say, give a different name when you book your room.”