The Time Stopper (Mind Dimensions 0.5)(2)

Except the universe doesn’t give a fuck what matters to me.

I quiet my mind and touch her face. I begin the Reading process, another brave action that will later haunt me. Like always, Reading her shows me the world through her eyes. I lose myself in her head. For that minute, I become we. The horror of my mom’s last moments becomes mine—so it’s me, too, who’s beginning to realize we are about to burn alive.

Later, I will think about who caused the explosion and wonder if I can ever un-live it, but right now, I just leave her head and look into the car again.

Dad’s face is free of burns. I will later hypothesize that the explosive was on the passenger side. His mouth is half-open in an expression of terror that contorts his whole face. I take all this in and am overcome with another idea that I will later regret.

I run to the side door and touch Dad’s face through his open window, not really thinking about what I’m doing. Except I do know what I’m doing. I’m bringing him into the Mind Dimension. That’s what touching another Reader does—and that’s what Dad is, a Reader, like me and my brother.

Unlike Mom, who doesn’t have our abilities.

As soon as I touch his skin, another Dad, a screaming Dad, shows up in the back of the car.

“Nyyyeeet!” He switches to Russian as he always does when he’s stressed. Then he registers me and screams, “Mira, honey, no!” His accent is heavier than usual.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I soothe. “We’re in the Mind Dimension.”

“It’s true. We are.” He looks around, terror replaced with a different emotion on his face. A darker emotion that I can’t exactly place. “Where is she?” he says after looking at the passenger’s seat.

“I took her outside. I was hoping she’d stay outside.”

Not saying anything, he gets out of the car and looks at Mom. “She’s already burned.”

“I know,” I say thoughtlessly. “I Read her. She’s in a lot of pain.”

My dad looks like I flogged him with those words, but he quickly hides his reaction.

“In the real world, where are you standing, sweetie?” he says. “Tell me. Quickly.”

“Over there . . .” I point. “Too far to help you.”

“That’s good.” His shaking voice is filled with relief. “The blast shouldn’t reach you there. But you still have to fall on the ground when you get back to your body and cover your ears for me. Promise me you’ll do this. It’s important.”

“I promise, Dad.” I’m beginning to understand what I have done to him. By pulling him out, I made sure that he could see himself dying in that car. That he could reflect on it. Dwell on it.

“I’m sorry.” My voice also begins to shake. “I shouldn’t have pulled you in.”

“Don’t say that.” He smiles at me. It’s one of the last smiles I’ll have from him. “I’m glad I’ll have a chance to . . . a chance to say goodbye.”

I remember my thought right before I Split into the Mind Dimension and realize I had created something like an evil omen. A part of me knows that the idea is irrational, but I feel like I brought all of this on with that prophetic thought. A chance to say goodbye.

I squint as though I’m going to cry, but no tears come out.

“Don’t.” Dad reaches for me. “Let’s spend the time we have left remembering the good times. Your Depth is only about a half hour—not enough time to spend on anything but happy memories.”

He hugs me and tells me stories, determined to be with me for as long as I can stay, until I run out of Depth and become Inert—unable to go back into the Mind Dimension for a while. As I catch myself enjoying his stories and being with him, I hate myself more and more.

I’ll later wonder what kind of bitch I was to extend such a moment for my father, but for now, I’m just happy to have him with me a little longer. For as long as I’m allowed.

“We’re running out of time.” Dad is trying his best to sound cheerful, but I know he’s pretending. “You did the right thing,” he says. “I’m really glad you pulled me out.”

He’s lying. Like my brother, Dad repeats lies to make them sound more convincing.

“To live even a few more minutes, to see you, is a treasure.” His eyes look earnest, but I can see the truth. He isn’t glad. He’s terrified because he knows that as soon as my time runs out, he’ll be taken out of the Mind Dimension and pulled back into his frozen body.

Into the explosion.

“There’s nothing you can do for us now, Mira,” he says. “Please take care of your brother; he’s all you’ve got—”

I don’t hear him finish that sentence because my time runs out. I will later grow to resent this limitation, my Depth. This finite amount of what-if time.

If only I could’ve stayed in the Mind Dimension forever. Then Dad and I could’ve talked forever. Or we could’ve explored that frozen-in-time world. Instead, I’m back in my body and the explosion is in my ears again, ears that feel like they might bleed. I fall on the ground, like I promised Dad I would. I welcome the pain of the fall because it numbs the pain from knowing that I don’t have parents anymore.

With herculean effort, I pull my mind back to the present. To the poker table and the Russian thugs surrounding me. I really have to get it together. My Depth’s being wasted as the seconds turn into minutes. If I run out of time, I’ll be Inert for a while—which means no more Reading and having to play fair in this poker game, to boot.