The Rule of Thoughts (33 page)

He tried harder, screaming with the effort as he pulled on the mouth of the giant snakelike beast. Its teeth started to move, to slowly slip out of his skin; blood oozed from the wounds on Michael’s neck. He pulled harder. Farther and farther apart creaked the jaws, the gap widening, the pressure on his head weakening, the dizziness and lights subsiding, feeling returning to his body, surging through him as though a dam had been breached—pain and adrenaline and
elation and fire. Michael screamed again, and this time he heard it, a raw, piercing, strangled sound. And still farther he opened the creature’s mouth, the world of purple returning to view around him.

With every inch the monster’s jaw opened, Michael’s confidence grew. He could hear the cracking of bone, the ripping of tendons, the cry of the creature as it lost the struggle. The pressure of its body on his weakened, then fell away altogether. Michael braced himself for one final burst of effort, readied to tear the monster’s head apart.

But there was a popping sound. A sweeping rush of noise and a blur of streaming colors. The world tilted, bent, spun. Darkness swept it all away. And then Michael was blinking, gasping for air, staring up at the lid of Agent Weber’s Coffin.

She’d Lifted them out of the Sleep. Across his body the NerveWires prickled as they receded from his skin, slithering into their hidey-holes.

He was back.

Michael was soaking wet—partly from the LiquiGels, but also from sweat slicking his every inch of skin. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, feeling like he could never get enough to satisfy his lungs. Somehow he composed himself enough to find the release, and he sprang it, then waited, impatiently, the hundred years it took for the lid to swing open on its hinges. Warm light spilled in from the room, and he saw Agent Weber herself standing there, looking down at him, her face blurry. His vision hadn’t quite adjusted yet.

On the edges of his consciousness, he had the thought that he was glad he’d worn shorts for the trip, at least. Usually he went stark naked to experience the full effects of the sensory elements within the Coffin. But lying down in his birthday suit had seemed a bad idea this go-round. He’d been right.

“Are you okay?” Agent Weber asked.

Michael blinked a few times and she came into focus. The look of concern on her face seemed genuine enough. And she’d fulfilled her promise to bring them back.

He sat up, ignoring how wildly his head spun from the movement.

“Sarah!” he shouted. “Bryson!”

“They’re fine,” Weber said, kneeling down next to the Coffin. “I was able to get them out a little early—I’m not sure why it was so hard to Lift you. There was … something interfering, as if the system couldn’t quite lock on to your signal. I’m sorry. I really am. Things must’ve gotten bad in there.”

Michael waved his hand, as if swatting away her concern. He knew very well what had happened, and why it had been such a struggle to Lift him. That creature—that twisted version of the KillSim—had been sucking away his digital essence. He felt such a rush realizing how close he’d come to permanent brain damage that he found it hard to breathe. Fumbling and slipping, he scrambled out of the Coffin, stood up, swayed, sat down, breathed in deep pulls of air. What if he hadn’t yanked the thing’s jaws apart, gotten it off his head? How close had he come to dying?

Agent Weber was at his side, touching his shoulder.

“That bad?” she whispered.

He nodded. He tried not to think of Ronika and what had happened to her. “I’m fine. It was just … I was attacked by one of those … one of Kaine’s creatures. How did he find us? I thought your hider codes were supposed to be super complex.”

Weber stood up, maneuvering deftly in her heels, then helped Michael get to his feet.

“It wasn’t you specifically that he found,” she said. “I’ve talked to Bryson and Sarah about it. Kaine noticed the massive amount of programming you three were doing and he sent in his cavalry. But Sarah said she was able to wipe away the code structure before he could see that you’d been backtracking to find his information. Still. I didn’t expect things to go so wrong in just twenty-four hours. Again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said. He could hardly blame Weber. They’d been reckless once again. And most importantly, she
had
brought them back to safety.

Weber motioned to the door. “Well, you’re all back, and you’re all okay. And from what Sarah said, it sounds like you found some pretty incredible information. Am I right?”

Michael felt a surge of pride and hoped Weber didn’t see it on his face. “Yeah. We did. And we need to work fast. Before he catches on and moves his home base.”

Weber walked toward the door, her heels clicking. “I’m already gathering the few people I trust. I’ve called them to the War Room. In the meantime, you need to shower and eat. And this is going to take everything we’ve got—so get some sleep.”

To Michael, that sounded good. Really good.

It felt like he’d only shut his eyes for a moment when someone gently nudged him awake. He jerked up to a sitting position, looking right and left. It was as if his body had been waiting for the moment Kaine’s monster would return.

“Whoa, there, cowboy!”

It was Bryson, Sarah standing beside him. It was odd to see their real selves again. “No need to get feisty.”

Michael closed his eyes and, relieved, slumped back onto the bed. It was actually more of a cot, stowed away in a dark, cool room alongside several others. His friends had already been sound asleep and snoring by the time he’d showered and eaten, and he hadn’t had the heart to wake them up. He’d wanted to, wanted to wake them and hug them—well, Sarah, anyway—but instead he’d collapsed and fallen asleep almost instantly.

Sarah was standing, arms folded, at the foot of his cot, looking down at him with a smile he could tell she was trying to hide. She was happy to see him—it showed in her eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked.

Michael groaned and sat up again, swinging his legs to the floor, rubbing his eyes. And then told the truth. “Like crap. Groggy. Achy. My muscles feel like a granny’s.” But at least he felt no pain in his head, other than a foggy, dull throbbing from where the Coffin had simulated the struggle with the KillSim. If it had even
been
a KillSim.

“How do you know?” Bryson asked.

“Huh?”

“How do you know what a granny’s muscles feel like?”

“I used to play
Grannies at Teatime
, and don’t say you didn’t.”

He and Bryson started snickering like middle schoolers in the back of class.

Sarah threw her hands up. “Are you guys finished? I know more about that game than you think. Now come on, we need to talk about slightly more important things.”

“Yes, we do,” Bryson said, suddenly serious.

Sarah sat on the cot next to Michael, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s something Bryson will never get,” she whispered, obviously not caring that their friend had heard.

“Who said I’d want it?” he countered, though his cheeks turned red.

Sarah just smiled, not taking her eyes off Michael’s, and he suddenly felt much, much better.

“All right,” he said. “What’s the plan? Where’s Weber?”

“She woke us up and said she’d be back for us in a minute,” Sarah answered. “Apparently she has a team of people waiting to meet with us. We’re going to a place she called the War Room to tell them what we know.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, she mentioned that to me, too.”

“What’re we going to say?” Bryson asked. “I barely got through my presentation on amphibians last fall without squeaking.”

“Squeaking?” Sarah repeated. She gave him a little pat, then turned to Michael. “How about you do all the talking?”

“Me?”
Michael’s voice rose an octave. “Why me? Last fall when Bryson was … squeaking through his amphibians report, I wasn’t even human. I might not know how to use my vocal cords properly.”

Bryson snorted.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Sarah said.

Michael and Bryson exchanged a look: it was clear she’d known all along that she’d be the one. Before Michael could thank her, there was a knock on the door and it swung open. Agent Weber walked in, confident as always.

“It’s time,” she announced. All that humble sorry-you-were-almost-killed sentiment had vanished. She was back to being all business.

“We’re not ready,” Bryson said. “We need to plan what we’re going to say.”

But Sarah was already off the cot and walking toward the door. She stopped when she reached Agent Weber and turned to face her friends.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll wing it.”

The War Room.

Michael found himself not breathing for a few seconds after Agent Weber ushered them inside. He stopped for a moment to take it all in. On one side of the giant room, there were several tiers of seats—almost like a theater or a stadium—the rows roughly half filled with men and women of every race. In front of each glowed a NetScreen, at which most of the people were busily working, oblivious to the newcomers. Michael wondered why the room was only half full.

On the other side of the room, one of the largest three-dimensional displays Michael had ever seen hovered in midair. Displays like that were usually reserved for games and
movies, but this one was enormous, at least a hundred feet wide and nearly as tall. It was impossible to tell how deep it went; it looked like it continued on forever. There were maps and diagrams and live feeds of places both real and programmed. A massive, detailed globe of the world hung right in the middle, slowly turning, symbols and dots scattered across its glowing surface.

Michael felt like a high-level spy, ready to take on the world. And then he realized that Agent Weber and his friends were all looking at him.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

Weber motioned to a podium that sat directly below the flying globe of the Earth, with several chairs lined up right next to it. “Please,” she said. “My people are dealing with a lot of situations that need attention. I don’t want to take any more of their time than necessary.”

Michael stared at her in disbelief. For her to say such a thing made him wonder if she could possibly understand what was at stake. He was about to say something when Bryson went ahead and did it for him.