The Elders (13 page)

“You want to learn what?” he asks, frowning.

I proceed to explain the concept of Level 2, and a look of recognition soon replaces the confusion on his face.

“Why that of all things?” he asks. “I’m not sure it can even be learned. In fact, sometimes I wonder if the whole idea isn’t just a convenient
rumor to make everyone respect the Elders that much more.”

“It’s not a rumor. It’s a fact.” I try not to feel smug; I’m rarely better informed than Bill. “How else would you explain someone pulling me into this ‘rumored’ realm right before I came here?”

Bill looks stunned but recovers quickly. “So you’re telling me all this mumbo jumbo about Nirvana is true?”

I must be looking at him as if
he has two heads, because he explains, “Nirvana is what the rumors call that place, if it can even be called a place.”

“Nirvana,” I repeat. “It didn’t feel all that heavenly, but it sure beats saying, ‘The realm you go to when you Split while in the Mind Dimension.’ Hell, it’s better than my term, Level 2.”

Bill stares at me. “If those rumors are true, then only extraordinarily powerful Guides
can reach it. From what I understand, the Reach required is—”

“Yep,” I say, this time unable to fight my smugness. “I have some very good genes, you see.”

Bill’s eyebrows draw together again. “This is very worrying. Tell me, is it true what the rumors say? That you can’t reach Nirvana while you’re in someone else’s Mind Dimension?”

“No Level 2—I mean, Nirvana—access from someone else’s Mind
Dimension?” I repeat slowly, giving myself a chance to think. “No, I never heard of that. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he says, looking relieved.

“I know you, Bill. You never utter a word without a reason.”

“I just had a scary thought, that’s all.” He gives me a nervous smile. “In hindsight, it was silly.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” I say, more teasingly than I’ve ever allowed myself to act
around my boss.

“I was wondering whether the reason I’m not ready to fire you yet has nothing to do with my wishes, you see.” As he says this, he looks atypically insecure.

I try not to chuckle, finally understanding his earlier discomfort. “You think I might’ve gone to Nirvana and Guided you?”

“If we were in
your
Mind Dimension, it would’ve been a real concern,” he says. “Come, we both know
you’re precisely the type of person who would do something like that if you could.”

His words don’t insult me, partly because he’s right. If I wanted to keep my job and if I had to Guide him to do so, I’d do it. The whole ‘No level 2 from someone’s Mind Dimension’ makes a strange kind of sense. Eugene told me that you use up the other person’s Depth when they pull you into the Quiet. Going into
Level 2 when you’re using up someone else’s Reach sounds like an activity that can deplete that someone’s Reach very quickly, and perhaps our minds protect against it.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Bill says, peering at me. He still looks uncomfortable, as confirmed by him saying, “Maybe I
should
fire you, and also stay as far away from you as possible in light of all this.”

I can tell that he
misunderstood my silence, and that he’s only half kidding.

“Doesn’t the fact that you can even consider firing me prove that I haven’t Guided you?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Bill says. “Maybe I’m able to consider it because you can’t get to Nirvana right now. Maybe once you can, I’ll feel like you’re indispensable.”

“You’ll know for sure when you decide to give me a two-hundred-percent raise.”
I give my voice a mockingly ominous tone.

Bill chuckles and then says, “Seriously, though, I’ve treated you well over the years. Promise me you wouldn’t use that shit on me, even if you could.”

“Of course, William,” I say, calling him by his full name to show that I truly do respect him.

He nods, looking satisfied. “And another thing. If this Nirvana stuff is true, that means the Elders might
make
me become an Ambassador. If that happens—”

“Say no more. If it turns out you’ve become one, I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks. You might get that raise after all.” He winks and then, with mock horror, says, “Wait a minute.”

We both laugh, but his laughter sounds strained. I haven’t seen Bill this stressed out since the last big oil-price plummet; the man loathes it when anything in the world
is beyond his control.

“I think I’ll take a walk, if you don’t mind,” he says. “My advice to you is to have a heart-to-heart with whoever took you into Nirvana.”

“Do you know whose Mind Dimension this is?” I ask. “If the rumors you mentioned are true, it would be the same person.”

“No, I don’t, but I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” I say.

After Bill leaves
the room, I look over the books.

Sadly, I don’t locate a book titled
How to Master Nirvana
, at least not at a glance. Of course, if they kept stuff like that around, the Nirvana stuff wouldn’t be a rumor. Some of the topics the Elders do write about are fascinating, though. I flip through a book filled with proofs and other pure mathematics written by Frederick. Next, I scan Alfred’s
Detailed
Analysis of the Second Iraq War
. After that, I find that Gustav created a catalogue of every species of creatures that run, fly, swim, or crawl on this Island, complete with hand-drawn illustrations.

Locating a genealogy book, I leaf through it, searching for ‘Taylor,’ my mom’s family line. I’m absorbed in this task when I’m interrupted by a faint sound.

One moment I hear the rustling of clothing,
and the next I’m having difficulty breathing.

The book falls from my hand to the floor.

I try to say, “What the hell,” but only a hoarse grunt comes out.

Someone grabbed me from behind, I realize, and they have my neck in a tight elbow lock. Their other hand is on the back of my head. Unbidden, a thought comes: I’m in a rear naked choke, which is a pretty deadly way of taking out an opponent.
I probably have five seconds to react before I suffocate.

Given the circumstances, I don’t have to worry about dying, but I do have to worry about becoming Inert.

I suppress the fear and the pain, though it’s extremely difficult. My body doesn’t realize that the result of this attack won’t be truly fatal; it’s running through the motions of the fight-or-flight response. I try to calm myself
and focus on the fight, and not the flight, part of what my body is so ready for. I have to react before I lose consciousness.

I grab at the arm around my neck.

My head might as well be in a steel vise.

I’m beginning to see a white haze.

My next move isn’t a conscious one. I’m only aware of what I’m doing as I begin doing it.

I grab the arm again, but this time, I suddenly squat.

My brain
catches up with my body, and I swing the back of my hand to where I hope my attacker’s groin is. My hand hits something disgustingly soft, and a satisfying grunt sounds from behind me.
 

My attacker is definitely male.

The hold on my neck slackens enough for me to grab the hand holding me. I move a few inches to the right, bringing the arm along with me.

I succeed in overextending my attacker’s
shoulder and use that moment to throw him off balance.

As he falls, I catch a quick glimpse of him, which confirms his gender. This person is far too big to be a woman, at least an average-sized one. He’s wearing a strange mask, which prevents me from recognizing who he is. Aside from that, he’s wearing a plain black kimono and no shoes.

I pay the price for examining my attacker. He does what
looks like a breakdancing move, his legs sweeping mine.

When I trained with Caleb at the Temple, the thing I learned best was how to fall, so I don’t flop down like a sack of potatoes. Instead, I make sure I land on my attacker with my elbow out, wrestling-style.

My elbow plunges into his chest area, and his breath rushes out of him like air from a punctured balloon. I use my advantage to reach
for the mask; I need to find out who this is since he’s likely the Super Pusher. If he is, by the way, then punching him in his privates already proved I was wrong in calling him a she.

I move to complete the identification, but his hands catch mine before I can unfasten the mask. He rolls to his side, and I fight not to roll off him.

We wrestle in the style of the ancient Greeks, each trying
to catch the other in a submission lock. Only the Greeks didn’t allow dirty moves. Since this isn’t the Olympics, I bite his arm when he shoves it in my face. He retaliates by grasping for my genitals. I back away just in time.

Unfortunately, he uses that moment to grab the tail end of the nearest bookshelf and tries to tip it over. Though the shelf doesn’t fall, it does lean. I snap to alertness
when books rain down, slipping off the polished shelf. As I protect my head from the heavy tomes, he crawls away.

I move to follow and notice he’s trying to topple the shelf from the other side. Again it leans, and before I get out of its path, a book hits me in the temple, blurring my vision and sending a wave of nausea through me.

The masked attacker jumps up and makes a run for it.

Ignoring
the pain, I scramble to my feet and follow.

He slams the door shut when I’m a foot away.

I hear a click, and rage blazes through me.

The bastard must’ve had a key to the library door.

In my crazed state, it takes me only a few kicks to break the flimsy lock, which is clearly meant to be decorative. When the door swings open, my attacker is nowhere to be found.

Damn it.

At random, I choose
a direction and run, checking rooms as I go. He’s not in what looks like a chemistry lab. Nor is he in a room filled with gorgeous rugs or the one filled with murals.

A few more doors down, I find myself near a relatively small room that looks like a painter’s studio.

There, without a care in the world and with his back to the door, a man is standing in a black kimono.

What’s more, I see the
strings from the mask that’s tied around his head.

I enter the room silently, filled with grim anticipation. My heart is pounding from the fight and the chase.

Maybe I’ll grab his head in a lock the way he did to me, or maybe I’ll do a karate-style neck chop first; the pain might disorient the fucker.

Halfway to my target, I marvel at how quiet I am, despite my faster-than-usual breathing.
Stealth isn’t something I ever thought myself capable of.

“Darren,” a voice says from behind me, “what the hell are you doing?”

Chapter 11

A
mazingly, the voice doesn’t startle my attacker. He’s still standing with his back to me. There’s something very ballsy about his lack of concern; he’s either really self-confident or deaf.

Ignoring the voice, I continue on toward my strangely behaving target.

He still doesn’t move.

“Seriously, Darren, what in the world—”

I think I recognize the voice. It sounds like Gustav.
I don’t dwell on it or turn around to verify I’m right.

 
Gustav, if that’s him, doesn’t get the chance to finish his monologue, because I grab the masked man in a deadly lock.

Oddly, the masked man doesn’t react in any way. Something is weird about him—a stillness that is kind of familiar.

Another masked figure materializes on our left.

“Who are you?” the figure asks. I don’t recognize his
voice. “Is it Celebration time already?”

“It is,” Gustav says as I turn toward him, battling my confusion as I hold on to my unresisting victim. “Jamie, this is Darren, our visitor.”

“Why did you pull me in in such a strange manner?” Jamie asks. “And why are you choking my frozen body?”

“I would also very much like to know the answer to that question,” Gustav says, staring at me the way one
might look at a rabid kangaroo.

I release my hold on Jamie’s body and step back, more than a little baffled. “He just attacked me, in the library.”

“I did not,” Jamie says, sounding outraged.

“That’s impossible,” Gustav says. “You just pulled him in.”

I ignore my attacker’s denial. “He must’ve been in this Mind Dimension before running back to his body and Splitting.”

It’s the only explanation
that makes sense to me.

“I would have seen him enter this room,” Gustav says. “I came here right after we spoke, and I’ve been here reading. I was planning to pull him in in a few minutes.”

“He must’ve done it somehow,” I persist. “How can you defend someone who’s clearly up to something shady? Just look at him.”

Gustav looks the guy over, appearing more confused than before. “What about him?”

“Do people often wear masks around the Castle?” My hands tighten at my sides. “It’s not exactly a—”

“Wait,” Gustav says. “Jamie, please leave.”

“He’s not leaving until—”

“He is leaving right now,” Gustav says. What shocks me isn’t his words, but where he is when he says them.

A moment ago, Gustav was sitting in his chair, but now he’s suddenly standing next to me.

For someone of his late
age, or for someone of
any
age, he moved very fast. He must’ve leapt so quickly and quietly that I didn’t even notice.

Placing himself between Jamie and me, he says, “Please don’t do anything rash, Darren.”

He says it calmly, yet there’s enough command and threat in his voice that I unclench my fists for the moment.

I look at the guy he’s protecting and belatedly realize his mask may actually
be slightly different from the one my attacker was wearing. He might also be a bit smaller in the shoulders. Still, I’m hesitant to let go of my only suspect so quickly.

Taking my stunned expression as his cue, Jamie rushes out of the room.

“Now,” Gustav says, “please tell me about this attack.”

“Not before you tell me why you let my number-one suspect get away,” I say, my voice clipped.

“I explained why he can’t be your attacker.”

“But the mask—”