The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(69)

I’m still looking around for Sam, and so is Thomas.

And then another gunshot threatens to damage my eardrums. I look around and see, in absolute horror, that Thomas is clutching his chest. There is a circle of red spreading there.

No. This can’t be happening. That’s the only thought in my mind as Thomas makes a whimpering sound and slowly falls to his knees.

“No!” I hear a high-pitched voice echoing my thought from a foot away from me. It must be Hillary and the others, catching up with us. I have no time to check, however.

Now that Thomas is on his knees, I see where Sam materialized in the Quiet. He was directly behind Thomas from my vantage point. That’s why I heard the shot, but didn’t see the shooter.

The shooter who’s now looking in my general direction and carefully aiming his gun.

I fire. The good news is that I at least don’t shoot Thomas. He’s still clutching his chest, but the fact that he’s still upright, albeit on his knees, fills me with a sliver of hope. Maybe Sam’s bullet went through his body without damaging any vital organs? Maybe it’s just a flesh wound?

The bad news is that I clearly missed Sam, because he’s standing unharmed.

Standing unharmed and firing his own gun—which is pointed at me.

Sam’s gunshot is the scariest sound I have ever heard in my life. It seems to vibrate and fill my very being with dread. But as the feeling that my ears might bleed fades, I realize that I’m intact.

And then I see why.

Sam wasn’t aiming at me. He was aiming at Thomas. I’m numb with disbelief as I watch Thomas falling to the ground, a pool of blood forming around his head.

The enormity of this loss is worsened by the knowledge that Thomas was the only one of us who would’ve stood a chance against Sam. And now Thomas is dead.

And we’re f*cked.

As I stand there, dazed, I see a gun appear from behind me. I recognize the slender long-fingered hands holding the weapon.

It’s Mira’s hands.

As I register this fact, she pulls the trigger.

At the same time, Sam does some military maneuver, where he rolls on the floor. I’ve seen this in movies, but never in the real life. Mira’s shot must’ve missed him because I see Sam roll up to Thomas’s dead body and turn it sideways, using our dead friend’s body as a makeshift shield.

Sick with dread, I aim and take another shot. At the same time, two more shots get fired. It must be Eugene and Mira shooting at the same time, I realize vaguely.

“Darren, run!” Hillary yells, and I hear her acting on her suggestion.

“We should follow her.” It’s Eugene, sounding frantic.

I hear the sound of his departing feet, and then Mira yells, “We should cover them!” and fires another shot at Sam.

I glance back to see Mira backing away. I follow her example, shooting in the general direction of Sam as I begin to back away myself.

Sam peeks from his hiding place and fires another shot. I brace for the pain, but instead I hear an agonized shriek behind me.

From where Eugene and Hillary are.

Forgetting about creating the cover fire, I rush toward my friends. Mira does the same.

We see Eugene standing over Hillary, who’s on the ground.

“She’s alive,” Eugene says quickly. “It’s her leg. She’s been shot in the knee.”

He must be babbling in shock because it’s obvious my aunt is alive. She’s wailing like a banshee and clutching her leg.

In shock myself, I realize that I’ve kept my eyes off Sam for too long. I turn around—and see Sam standing much closer to us. Having abandoned his makeshift human shield, he’s now in a half-kneeling position, using his knee to stabilize his gun while aiming at us.

Both Mira and I raise our guns in unison and fire. Sam’s own shot echoes ours.

I brace for pain, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I hear a thumping sound nearby. I again feel like I’m about to phase into the Quiet, only this time the feeling of frustration at it not happening is even more intense. Filled with terror, I look back. The pavement behind me is covered with blood.

And then I see its source.

It’s Eugene. He’s on the ground, convulsing, blood and brain matter seeping out from what’s left of his head.

I feel sick, but I can’t vomit. My brain feels woolen, my thoughts slow with stunned disbelief. Surely this is just a nightmare that I’ll wake up screaming from. Eugene can’t be dead. He can’t be. It’s only now that I realize how much I liked him. How I had begun to think of him as a friend. He can’t be gone.

But I don’t wake up in bed screaming. Instead, I turn and shoot again, over and over, trying to channel my hatred for Sam into every bullet.

The f*cker seems unharmed, however. He’s impossible to hit, with all the stupid rolling maneuvers that he does. I shoot again, but he rolls forward, doing something that looks almost like a somersault.

When he lands, I squeeze the trigger again, but my gun makes an empty clicking sound.

“Run, Darren!” Mira yells, taking a step forward. “You need to get out. Before he gets you too.”

She takes careful aim and shoots. I hear a grunt and see Sam clutching his hand. Mira managed to hit his gun hand. I feel a wave of relief.

Emboldened by her success, Mira shoots again, but this time she misses. Sam does another one of those cursed rolls.