
## Table of Contents

  * PROLOGUE - NEW YORK, JANUARY 2028
  * CHAPTER 1 - NORA
  * CHAPTER 2 - OPENING THE DOOR
  * CHAPTER 3 - CRASH
  * CHAPTER 4 - PALAVER
  * CHAPTER 5 - STIRRINGS
  * CHAPTER 6 - THE DISTANT SEA
  * CHAPTER 7 - SYNCHRONOUS
  * CHAPTER 8 - ESCAPE
  * CHAPTER 9 - THE PRESENCE
  * CHAPTER 10 - THE LIGHT
  * CHAPTER 11 - CAPTURE
  * CHAPTER 12 - MORRIS
  * CHAPTER 13 - KINDRED
  * CHAPTER 14 - TRINITY
  * CHAPTER 15 - CONTROL
  * CHAPTER 17 - SIREN
  * CHAPTER 18 - COLLECTIVE
  * CHAPTER 19 - ENTANGLED
  * CHAPTER 20 - SHARDS
  * CHAPTER 21 - ALLEGIANCE
  * CHAPTER 22 - DEADLOCK
  * CHAPTER 23 - FISSURE
  * CHAPTER 24 - WAR
  * CHAPTER 25 - THE ROAD
  * CHAPTER 26 - GONE
  * AUTHOR'S NOTE

THE ETHEREAL VISION

LIAM DONNELLY

Published by Liam Donnelly

Copyright © Liam Donnelly, 2015  
www.liamdonnellyauthor.com  
www.facebook.com/liamdonnellyauthor

Cover design by Andrei Bat  
Ebook Formatting by Guido Henkel

This is a work of fiction. However, many locations throughout this book are real. The names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, (living or dead) or events, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

PROLOGUE - NEW YORK, JANUARY 2028

PROLOGUE

NEW YORK, JANUARY 2028

Lucas Johnson sat in his dimly lit office and sighed deeply as he stared out at the green space in front of the facility. He glanced at the large monitor on the wall, waiting for his AI assistant to indicate a call was coming through from Denton. It was something he had been told to expect, but he hadn't been given a specific time during which he would receive it. It was now quite late, and Lucas had been sitting in his office for an hour doing almost nothing. When the call finally came through, he jerked his head around towards the monitor, took a deep breath, and accepted it.

The screen lit up and showed the basic interface of their internal network. Then Denton's face filled the screen. Lucas felt the muscles in his body tense, but he smiled and stared straight at the monitor.

"Mr. Denton, how are you?"

Denton sighed. "The Atlantic Object lit up again, Johnson. I'm sure you got a reading on it over at your end," he said, his face virtually expressionless.

Lucas stood from his chair and fastened a button on his overcoat. He walked around the front of his desk and faced the large monitor. "Yes, we did," he replied. "Another—"

"Another spike in Ireland. I believe there was a young girl?"

"Yes. Jane Connor. I recall."

"Of course you do, Lucas," Denton said in a mocking tone, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Well, this time the energy readings went off the chart, and we still have no idea what it is."

"The manned sub?"

"Retrieval process is underway. All systems shut down at a distance of two kilometers. They're lucky they survived. We got no useful readings at all."

"Did she cause it?"

"We're not sure yet. It's possible. The thing lit up, sent out some kind of shockwave and blew all of their electrical systems, but it wasn't electromagnetic. It was something else—some kind of advanced security device, they think."

"What about unmanned? Have they come up with anything else?"

"They've sent every kind of drone they have at it, all different compositions—alloys, metals, plastics, you name it. Everything goes dead at a distance of two K."

Lucas nodded his head and watched the screen as Denton merely stared at him.

"Go to Ireland, Lucas," he said then, after a pause that caused Lucas's chest to tighten. "Find her. Get her to the facility. We were obviously right about her back then, and whatever reaction she's having to this thing now, we need to find out what it is."

Lucas couldn't hide the shock that spread across his face. He moved towards the screen, ready to protest. He was about to reply when Denton spoke again.

"Go. Now," he said in a tone that eliminated the prospect of retorts or questions. Then the man swiped his hand, and the video link was terminated.

Lucas gasped as the room once again went dark. "Damn," he whispered to himself as he turned and looked out onto the well-kept green that stretched in front of the facility. It took him a full hour to accept that he would be returning to Ireland, searching for something that they had once thought could be significant: a girl with massive psychic ability. It had, however, turned out to be very little, or perhaps nothing at all.

"Damn," he said again.
CHAPTER 1 - NORA

CHAPTER 1

NORA

Psionic: of or pertaining to the telepathic, psychic, or paranormal.

Dublin, Ireland.

Nora rarely spoke or thought of the psychic events that occurred around her daughter Jane as she was growing up. The two of them had lived a largely solitary existence since her husband, Tom, had left when Jane was eight years old. She was bringing in groceries from the car and found herself trembling slightly as the scant memories she had of the accident threatened to enter her mind again. On that night ten years ago, the events that had begun to unfold in the world outside their small existence exploded into view right before them, breaking their quiet family life into pieces.

The accident itself brought into focus the reality of just how different Jane was. In the aftermath, Nora found that she herself had adjusted rather quickly, though it seemed clear in retrospect that she hadn't really been given a choice—she _had_ to be strong for Jane.

She wondered for a brief second as she walked into the dim kitchen and placed a box of cereal into a cupboard just how much trauma she had kept hidden from herself and whether it would one day manifest itself in some dramatic fashion. She drank sometimes, but not much—a few glasses of wine here and there. But once in a while, after a night shift, one or two glasses would turn into three or four.

She didn't want to think about the man in the black suit who had called to their house all those years ago, but the memory returned now reflexively. She was returning to the car to retrieve more groceries—milk, eggs and chocolate—and suddenly he was right there in front of her again. She stopped on the steps for a second and gasped as she stared out at the quiet winter night. She scanned the road directly in front of her and then looked up the street from left to right as the remaining dim light of January faded over the rooftops and dusk receded. There was no one there; the road was completely empty. She forced herself onward.

Back then, she had known that the men had come to take her daughter from her; Jane had prepared her for this. The recollections of these events had faded from her life in the years following the accident and the appearance of this man, but now, for some reason, they were returning...forcefully.

His name was Lucas, she recalled, and his presence had repulsed her then as the memory did now. With her daughter present during that encounter, she could peer beneath his veneer just a little. It was something she found herself able to do sometimes when Jane was around. It was as though there was a window right next to her, forever glued shut, but Jane had the key and sometimes—just sometimes—the window would open an inch or two and she could _see_.

Of course, Jane's raw talent would forever be locked away from Nora's understanding. She knew this, but once in a while she was granted a momentary glimpse of the person behind the face. She had felt darkness and obsession, and at that moment she had pulled her awareness back and shut herself off from him entirely. These fleeting glimpses were brief and sporadic, and they made her pine for the knowledge that there was a world her daughter could see into that she, Nora, would forever be locked out from. Perhaps it was for the best, though, she had surmised over the years. She had wondered—without asking, of course—what it was like for her daughter to be able to see and feel such things.

She went back inside and proceeded through the darkness down the hallway and into the kitchen. She stopped cold as she placed the bags on the table. She had the distinct impression that the man, Lucas, was going to come again; it was just a matter of time. Eventually, he would show up on their doorstep and look for a reason to take Jane. Somewhere in her memory, she felt—remembered—a presence; some unknown force had been counterbalanced against him and his intrusion into their life. What had it been? Would it stand against him if he came again?

Nora glanced around the dark kitchen, and her teeth chattered just a little. She took a deep breath, walked over to the door and turned on the lights. They flickered on, and the stark corners of the faded white kitchen cabinets emerged from the blackness. Suddenly, the memory and the present thoughts of Lucas were no longer as clear. She returned to the living room and turned on the lights there too, noticing, as she did, the copy of a book she had bought many years previously.

Reading was one of her many pastimes that she had abandoned over the years, but she had made time for this book. She had found a secondhand copy online; it had been available only in paperback. The title was _First Visions,_ and its very subject concerned her daughter. She hadn't read all of it, but she could tell that the author had been a wise, benign man. She didn't want to think about that now, though, so she returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Jack would be coming over tomorrow night for Chinese food. She smiled at the thought. Then, as she thought about the work schedule ahead of her, the smile slowly faded. She was standing in front of the sink and noticed a few dirty cups sitting next to it. She picked one up and began to wash it. There was a claustrophobic feeling in her chest when she thought about the work she did to provide for herself and her daughter. She had two hours before she had to return to the computer screen in the makeshift office with the fluorescent lights for the night shift.

For most of the previous five years, she had questioned—in the few spare moments she had—how she ended up there. She looked up at the ceiling, thinking of her art supplies, now stored in the attic. She moved instinctively to get them, following an impulse to create that she had suppressed for years, but stopped just as quickly, her body locked in place. She looked up and out through the window over the sink. Her eyes slowly opened and closed.

She braced herself as the images began to rise in her mind once again.

A glass of chocolate milk sliding across a desk.

A rattling dinner plate.

And, of course, the car...

Then the memory that almost caused her entire body to seize up with ancient trauma resurfaced. In her mind's eye she saw the road disappear below them as the car sailed over the edge of the cliff...

_NO... No!_

_Not now! Please!_

Her hands opened, and the single wet cup she had been holding fell into the sink and smashed. She was glad; the memory, at least for now, was gone. She wiped her hands and went into the sitting room.

She sat down and turned on the television, going through the channels rapidly. The image of the car and the darkened, slick country road that had led to the accident threatened to return again. There was a devastating realness to the memories that had not been there before. They were now, somehow, more dangerous. _Why is that?_ she wondered, and after a moment the answer came to her: _Because something's coming, Nora._

When memories of the car accident no longer threatened to enter her mind, she pressed the mute button on the remote control. _What is it that's coming, exactly?_ she asked, but there was no answer this time.

The situation around the world regarding people like her daughter had reached climactic proportions. In their generation, these heretofore unseen abilities had manifested spontaneously and unexpectedly while the world had been distracted by massive technological growth. Until then, it had been unknown that there was another appendage growing beneath this; the plane of the psychic was being breached, and the world of man seemed set to make another departure from the sea from whence it came. The word _psychokinetic_ , once a mainstay only of comic-book fiction, had become common, but also a taboo word to use in public.

Neither the word nor the abilities frightened Nora. It was what they represented to her and her life that really frightened her, and she was only sometimes able to make this distinction. She did not know exactly what the extent of her daughter's ability was, but she had seen her perform—on many occasions—what had become known most commonly as _macro manifestations_ of this ability. Immediately, the thought that came to mind was the day they were in Wexford and the snarling dog had approached Jane, who was then only seven years old.

It had been nine o'clock in the morning. Jane had always risen early and gone out to play with her friends, but it was early in the summer and Nora's family was first to arrive on the site. Nora heard Jane rise early and close the door behind her, going out to play. Nora got out of bed, knowing that once she was awake she would not go back to sleep. She put on her dressing gown and went to make tea.

She poured the water, then stopped breathing. Her hand froze over the kettle as she placed it back on the basic stove. She looked around the silent cabin, trying to figure out what had changed. Finally, the thing that she had been aware of on only an unconscious level became clear: She could no longer hear the wheels on Jane's bike, which made a slight whirring sound as she rode it.

She walked to the door and saw Jane sitting on her bike with her helmet on ( _good girl_ ). There was a dog approaching her child now. It was a collie mixed with some other breed Nora could not discern, and it was large. Immediately, Nora knew there was a problem. The dog was not looking forward so much as glaring from holes in its face. Foam dripped from its mouth in looping tendrils, and its lips were pulled back behind its teeth.

The dog was now fifteen feet from her daughter and had begun to snarl. Jane did not react with desperation. She stayed on her bike, returning the dog's glare with a strange calm that seemed somehow to leak out into the space around her. The dog lunged at her then suddenly, its glaring eyes flying through the air.

Nora took a desperate step forward to protect her daughter when something changed. The air shifted. She gasped as the shockwave washed over her and her body jerked like a puppet. She looked down as the teacup in her hand fell to the floor, liquid spilling out of it in spiraling brown arcs. She could feel the energy then—even behind the glass door—as though space itself had rippled around her, and this strange force had come from her daughter's mind. Nora hadn't known then how she knew this; it was just something that was obvious, like the color of the sky.

The dog was captured in this wave of energy, as though a pair of invisible hands had hooked around it. Shock briefly registered on its face, then it was snarling again. The dog flew backward through the air. It landed fifteen feet away, rolled over a few times, and slowly sat up. It took one confused look in their direction, then limped away, disappearing into the trees at the edge of the field. Jane had then resumed cycling in a circular pattern on the green in front of their cabin while humming the theme tune to one of her favorite cartoons.

Nora smiled now as she recalled her reaction to this event. It was the first time she had ever witnessed a psychic event of that magnitude up close and personal—a macro manifestation. To Tom, her then-husband, she had said nothing about it. It was another year or so before she allowed her mind to return to it completely in the brief recesses of night when she couldn't sleep. She would once again see the snarling face of the dog and feel—yes, _feel_ —the shockwave as this heretofore unknown energy poured out of her daughter's mind and into the space around them.

She knew the word well now— _psychokinesis_. Of course, everyone did. It was heard on television, heard on the radio, and frequently referenced on the Internet, usually accompanying words like _telepathy_ , _clairvoyance_ and the one phrase that had begun to appear most commonly, the blanket phrase that substituted for all these abilities: _The Ethereal Vision_. It was a perilous subject, dangerous to discuss and perhaps even dangerous to think about.

In a desperate panic one night, with the fear that her daughter would be taken from her, Nora had gone to the Internet and searched desperately until, eventually, she found scant pieces of information. A man in a discussion forum indicated that _facilities_ existed, built supposedly for the purpose of rehabilitation, with the word _rehabilitation_ written in italics. There was more than one in North America, but the specific locations were not known. The one in Paris was the most well-known and widely discussed among those who were brave enough to carry out such conversations openly on the Internet. It was also thought that there was a facility in Asia and, although its exact location was not known, it was suspected that it was in Hong Kong.

Presently she stood, returned to the kitchen, and began to prepare dinner. Still, as it often did, the subject remained in her thoughts, and the speeches came flooding back to her now, their voices echoing ominously in her mind:

_People who have the ability to manifest thought as action cannot and must not be allowed to enter normal society. How are they to drive cars? Or consume alcohol? Or have an argument without causing devastation?_

For some reason, as she prepared dinner, she thought of Wexford again. She and Tom had begun to spend their summers there many years ago. This had been before Jane had exhibited what Nora could only presume was an extreme level of psychic ability. Nora's mind flashed with warm memories of friends, afternoon glasses of red wine in the sun, the smell of sea air, and the feeling of sand on her legs wet with water. She smiled for a moment as she basked in the memories.

She allowed her mind to run over the cabin. Somewhere, in a dim memory, she heard the sound of a basketball bouncing by itself in the twilight as she looked through netted curtains. Jane had been standing ten feet from it, giggling, her friends obviously having gone to bed by then. Nora smiled despite the mild fear even this memory evoked in her. Nora was not afraid of her daughter—not at all, never. What she was afraid of was what Jane's unusual abilities represented: danger and the chance that she would one day be taken from her. Images of the cabin flowed through her mind as she made dinner.

_The front door... Where is the key? It's in the desk drawer in the hallway. What about gas? It's winter—there'll be nowhere to get it... I can get one of those portable ones and have it stashed away. Electricity will be switched off... I can bring candles. Jack will help me..._

She stopped what she was doing and looked out the window in front of her. _Why am I thinking about Wexford?_ she pondered, and the answer came back to her: _You might need a good place to hide soon, Nora._
CHAPTER 2 - OPENING THE DOOR

CHAPTER 2

OPENING THE DOOR

Jane walked home from school on a Thursday evening and winced at the icy breeze, the flurry of a beginning snowfall blowing around her. The schoolday and the people there she called friends were gradually fading from her mind as she got closer to her home. She thought about the growing distance between her and her school friends. She felt powerless to stop it, although strangely, it didn't seem to bother her that much.

They knew nothing of the abilities that lay dormant within her. She had made them dormant, of course. The man in the black coat in the park had shown her how... but was that real? Or had that been just a dream?

On the walk home, she thought about this man in the long coat who had appeared in that otherworldly place—the place with the slow-moving river and the golden-colored trees. It was a place she had tried to remember in the ensuing years, but as time passed, the memories faded until there was nothing but dusty, tattered remains. Now it was like trying to read from an old, faded diary. Jane slowed down briefly as she said his name aloud.

"Max."

For a moment, when she uttered the name, a golden vista-like paradise flashed through her mind. The world in front of her seemed unreal and, somehow, she felt as though she were dancing in some other beautiful place. There was motion and color and light floating around her body. Then, a few seconds later, it was gone. She took a deep breath. Ice-like wind flowed through her lungs, bringing her back to the moment. She put one foot in front of the other and continued walking home as her thoughts returned to her everyday life.

Her friends were preparing to enroll in university. Jane had entirely lost interest in her final year of school. She suspected, for some reason, that she would not be attending university at all. The online application forms had not been touched. Her mother had not even encouraged her to fill them in; it was something else that had become dormant.

Then, once again, her thoughts returned to the strange man in the black coat. She became resolute that he _had_ been there—either in a dream or some other kind of vision. Had her subconscious created an image, a character whose advice she could follow—a protective device of some sort? This thought crossed her mind frequently in the years that followed and, in particular, as she became older and started to develop a better understanding of such things.

She knew one thing for certain: The thing that Max told her had protected her when the men in suits came to her family home looking for her. She squirmed at the thought of them and shook the memories from her mind as she turned a street corner.

She recalled that time when she had allowed the psychic sense to soar like a pair of wings around her all the time. She had seen him in her mind then—the man who was coming to take her. She could see his name—Lucas—and when he was a mile away, she could see his face in the shaded vehicle as it came down the street. She had been afraid of him immediately. She wondered what would have happened during that altercation if Max had not intervened.

She turned the corner off the main road in Ranelagh, a small town in the south of Dublin, and braced herself further against the wind and the flurry of snow that was now coming straight in her direction. The specter of a man who had appeared in her childhood dreams still floated in and out of her mind.

_What do I know about him?_ she wondered. _I know that he showed up in a dream and gave me some very helpful advice. He looked like he was in his early forties, maybe younger. He was nice; kind and gentle._

There was an inch of snow on the ground now, and it crunched beneath her feet.

_Wise,_ she thought. _He was definitely wise._ She stopped walking for a moment as she suddenly remembered his eyes. They had been watery and icy blue. She gasped as she recalled that looking into them had given her the sense of looking into another universe. A shiver went through her. She was searching for another word to describe him, and she felt it come forward inside her mind: _powerful_. Max was powerful. Of that she was certain. She looked up and continued walking.

_Still can't decide if he was real or not,_ she thought, and as she looked up and around her at the dark night, another thought followed, seeming to come from someplace deeper within her.

_He was, Jane._

The more she thought about such things, the more she felt as though a drama had always been unfolding in her life—she was part of it whether she wanted to be or not, whether she ignored it or not. For some reason, it was now revealing itself to her rapidly, in all its unimagined possibilities.

By the time Jane reached the front door of her house, the snowfall had slowed, but large flakes still fell over the orange streetlights in a beautiful, thick haze. She looked at the doorknob and hesitated. For a moment she was transfixed by it. Light reflected off it with a golden, quality. All the way home she had been thinking about the man called Max, who had appeared to her once, helped her, and then never shown himself to her again.

She thought about the ethereal abilities then, as she often did whenever Max entered her mind, which was seldom. Somewhere inside her, she felt those mental hands reach out tentatively to explore. They touched on something cold and concrete, a solid wall—it was a dam. She gasped when she felt this inside her, for she'd had no idea it existed. She recoiled from its image as it flashed in her mind. It was a huge mental structure, and the obvious question it posed about what it might be holding back was one she was, as yet, not willing to explore.

She thought about her father—something she didn't do often—and felt the familiar stirrings of guilt. She couldn't remember much about the car accident that had caused him to retreat into a life of his own, for most of it had long since faded into shadows.

She suspected that the man called Max had not wanted her to lock herself out from all ethereal ability completely; she had elected to do this herself, and over the years she had almost forgotten it was there. There had been moments, though, when she was reminded of it. She would reach for her coffee and it would automatically slide across the table into her hand. Or she would become frustrated at a noise coming from another room and her door would slam shut. She would forget these things as much as possible and move on quickly.

There were men, though—and the suspicion was so strong that it had become a knowing within her—sitting in front of computer screens somewhere across the planet, waiting for people like her to give them exactly what they wanted: a spike of psionic activity, a reason to come for her. How they detected it was not entirely within her understanding.

She had read an anonymous forum post on a website one evening that had subsequently been removed. This post described how they were able to detect these spikes. It mentioned gamma waves and alpha waves—standard information about brainwave patterns—but it also went on to describe how there was something else among those who exhibited psionic ability, a different signature completely. It was something that seemed to echo across space.

This post confirmed then what Jane had already suspected: it was virtually impossible to detect minor spikes in psionic activity—the slamming of a door, a minor telepathic incident, a sliding cup of coffee. These faded into the background like white noise.

The people who were looking for her, and others like her, were indeed able to detect the larger macro manifestations. These showed up on their screens like freak waves on the surface of an ocean, unmissable and obvious. She had gotten away with one or two, when she threw the savage dog for instance. She and her mother had even talked about that once...but there had been others.

_Like when you lifted the car. That's why he came looking for you..._

She reached for the doorknob with her mind and, as she did, a lock inside her opened. The weight she had been carrying over her shoulders all those years rose off her like lead, suddenly weightless. Then an image of the enormous dam, dark in its dank surroundings, flashed inside her mind, and with it came the feeling that it held back an ocean of potential. She felt the cold brass in her mind, the shape and the pressure, and she pushed.

Nothing happened.

She released her grip. _Maybe it's gone_ , she thought. She was surprised to find that this was quite a melancholic reality to be faced with. Realizing she was holding her breath, she exhaled and gulped in the cold air deeply. She was about to reach for the knob to open the door physically when a steel voice rose inside her.

_Try again._

Her hand froze inches from the door. It was a deep adult voice, and its authority shocked her. In that moment, with the snow falling around her and the orange light on her face, she briefly wondered why this suddenly seemed so important. The answer came back clearly: _Because it's a weapon. You can use it as a weapon if you have to, and if things keep going the way they are, you're going to need a weapon soon._ She realized the truth of this immediately. She had never considered it to be a weapon before that moment.

She braced herself and grasped the handle with those invisible hands in her mind, determined this time. She pushed hard and felt the doorknob creak under the pressure as it began to turn. She smiled. It turned further, and then the door swung open. She stood there in the snow, enjoying the moment of elation this brought her. It lasted only moments as her mother appeared from the darkness at the end of the hallway. Jane's smile faltered.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" her mother asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Doing what?" In her mother's eyes, she could see the warning clearly: _They'll come and take you._

"Just be careful, Jane," her mother said softly. Then she turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Nora would be leaving for work soon. Jane knew the night shifts exhausted her. She used to paint, but her paintings and supplies were now stored in the attic. She was immensely talented, though Jane had not seen her paint in years. She remembered the beautiful oil paints of giant blood-red roses in bloom, petunias and lilies that would be scattered around the house, but that was years ago. Apparently she was too tired now. Jane ignored the empty glasses with traces of red wine that she had been finding around the house more frequently after her mother's shifts ended. She would wash them in the sink and say nothing.

As she entered her room, Jane took off her uniform and changed into her casual clothes. She would be finished with school soon. _Probably sooner than you think._ This stray thought flittered through her mind, and she paid it no further attention. She lay on her bed and thought about how she had opened the door. It hadn't been that hard. She just had to push harder than she remembered doing when she was younger. At least she knew it was still there; that was what had been important to her in that moment. She had blocked it out for so long that she was terrified in that split second that she had eradicated it completely. Of course, that was probably impossible, for better or worse.

_Why would I be so afraid of such a thing?_ she wondered. The answer came to her slowly but clearly: There was danger approaching. She didn't know how she knew this, or in what form it would come, but it now became clear and distinct in her mind.

She knew also that the impression she had about the power had been correct. It _was_ a weapon, and something was building, like a pot boiling slowly, or colliding tectonic plates ready to shift position and cause destruction. When that happened—with whatever chaos it brought to her doorstep—a weapon was probably the exact thing she would need.

***

Nora breathed a sigh of true relief when the Friday that she had planned to spend with Jack finally came. She ran to the door when she heard the bell ring that evening. He entered with a bag of Chinese food. They hugged in the hallway and giggled. Despite years of greeting each other in this fashion, it had never grown old. She breathed in the fresh scent of his cologne, cursing the fact that he was gay—something she had done many times throughout the years.

She was a grown-up now, however, and such things were only fun to think about. She smiled as he pulled away and looked at her. They both knew it was not just an evening of food and wine, and the few seconds of eye contact they shared communicated this truth irrefutably. The smile faded, and Nora nodded at him almost imperceptibly as he passed her in the hallway, turning to look at her as he did. The lights in the hallway were dim, and Nora watched as his figure became a silhouette that disappeared into the kitchen.

Jane was at the movies and wouldn't be home until later. Nora closed the door and entered the living room, listening to the plates clank against each other as Jack retrieved them from the kitchen. Then she heard something crash to the floor. A few seconds after the ensuing silence, his voice came through the hallway.

"Can we please just eat with our hands?"

She giggled and sat down with her back against the sofa, placing a hand on her face. He entered the room, and again the uncomfortable eye contact ensued between them—the knowing, the spark of something coming in the near distance. Jack opened and closed his mouth, exhaling as he stood in the doorway. He started moving again and set the plates on the table. A few minutes later they were eating in silence. When the food was gone and the television switched off, the two of them faced each other for a moment without speaking.

"It's Jane, isn't it?" Jack asked finally. She looked up at him from her glass of red.

"Yes," she replied without hesitating.

"She's an Ethereal, isn't she?"

Nora's jaw dropped open at the frankness of his question and the fact that Jack already knew this about her daughter. She stared back at him, then placed the glass on the table in front of her. "How did you know?" she asked sternly.

"I always knew, really. I saw a few small things over the years: flickering lights, doors moving, that kind of thing. I didn't think much of it."

"It didn't bother you?"

"No. I find it fascinating. It's interesting, isn't it? I mean, aside from all the scary rumors about the facilities."

"Yes. That part of it _is_ worrying."

Silence came over them for a moment before Jack spoke again.

"So...what can she do?"

"It's not small, Jack. It's no small thing she can do."

"So we're not talking pencils and paper clips, then. Not the parlor tricks we see on TV?"

Nora's jaw trembled. "No."

"Psychokinesis? Telepathy?" The words fell from his lips as though they were alien objects. Even though the words and their meanings had gained mainstream awareness, they were still foreign and dangerous.

"Yes. Both, I think. Definitely the first, not so sure about the second—to what extent, or how it works."

"And the first, psychokinesis, just what are we talking about here?"

"I don't know if you want to go there."

He stared at her. "Try me."

She looked down at the wine glass, lifted it to her lips, took another sip, and then said, "Okay." She nodded and placed the glass back on the table. "Uh..." she said, looking around the room nervously. As the embers of the fire traced dancing lights on their faces in the warm room, she began to speak about the past.
CHAPTER 3 - CRASH

CHAPTER 3

CRASH

Psychokinesis: alteration of the state of an object by mental influence alone, without any physical intervention.

September, 2018

_On a warm September evening at about seven o'clock, with the sun still in the sky, Nora wrapped a full-length cardigan around her and enjoyed a cup of coffee on the porch outside their cabin before preparing to leave. Jane was saying her goodbyes to her friends on the field in the distance in front of her. Watching Jane while sipping the coffee slowly, Nora imagined for a moment that everything was completely normal. She was still young at thirty-four, and so was Tom. He was a great guy—stable—and she loved him. Jane was a good kid—kind and intelligent._

_They had enjoyed a beautiful, rare sunlit summer together, spending most of the time in the cabin. It was only half a kilometer to a beautiful beach where the blue water met the sand and stretched forever in a thin, shimmery line. They had gone there almost every day. Jane had swum in the sea with her friends. They had sleepovers, and Nora had sipped glasses of red wine with others in the park, sometimes even under the stars. An hour after midnight, the lights in the park were turned off. Being so far from the city, the park had no ambient light at all. Above them, if they stayed up, was an ocean of white stars. Nora could even parse the arm of the Milky Way, which arched over them in the center of the sky._

_On rare occasions she would wait until Tom and Jane had gone to bed, then slip outside with her coat wrapped around herself. She would lie on a lawn chair and look up at the stars. She allowed herself to think of other worlds and other people, other places and other times. She had done this a lot when she was young; she had a wild imagination. But after growing up, it had become part of her past. She relished these moments. It was just her, the sky, the stars, and maybe something else besides her._

_There was another side to that summer that Nora did not want to think about. It was the dog._

_The damn dog._

_She sipped her tea and tried to push the memory away, but she could not. The dog's snarling face—caught in the vise-like grip of her daughter's mind—surfaced now like an ancient trauma, as though the snarling animal were right in front of her._

"Oh God." _The words slipped out of her in a breathless gasp, and her hand covered her mouth reflexively. The sun was in her eyes, and she could still smell the beautiful, freshly cut green grass of summer, but she was also back behind the door of the cabin, in that memory, seeing for the first time what her daughter was capable of._

_The earliest reports and videos had begun to surface only in the previous eighteen months, and Nora and Tom had marveled at it along with everyone else. After that morning, though, Nora had gone to the Internet with much more intent to find answers. She had watched her daughter keenly when the first signs of what they referred to as psionic potential had shown itself._

_A hairbrush had slid across the table one morning. Jane had reached for syrup in a cupboard just a little out of her reach, and it had fallen towards her and hit the floor, breaking into a gooey mess. The girl had no idea what had happened, but by that point, Nora had gathered enough information to know._

_For just a moment more, she bathed in the glare of the light beams of the remaining sun. She closed her eyes and listened. She could hear Jane in the distance. The trees in front of the old, gray castle that lined the backdrop of the park rustled softly in the gentle breeze. She inhaled the cool air and the smell of grass as the tail end of summer washed over her. Each cell in her body experienced an ephemeral moment of bliss. Then she opened her eyes again and called her daughter. They would be leaving soon. It would be the last summer they would spend together._

_The car was packed, and they were driving two hours later. Jane was almost asleep in the backseat, and a peace had fallen over Nora and Tom. He placed his hand over hers as he drove._

_"Did you think about the application again?" he asked her._

_For some time, Nora had been thinking about returning to school to study fine art. Tom made enough money as a computer programmer to support them, and she knew a friend who could get her shift work if necessary. It was a job she knew she would probably loathe, but she thought she would do it if things came to that._

_"Actually, I didn't."_

_"Why not?"_

_"I don't know. I suppose I'm afraid." She was afraid. She was afraid of returning to college just like most normal people would be after such an absence, but there were other fears lurking in the shadows. Things like glasses of chocolate milk sliding across dinner tables and children's toys seeming to come to life and move by themselves. There was the sense of something building in her life. The voice inside her that said,_ No, not yet, I have to wait _was not just the voice of fear, she knew. That was too simplistic. It was also this_ thing _her daughter possessed, coupled with what had begun to spread on the news and on the Internet: Videos of people doing extraordinary things, some so extreme that they frightened her. Then there was Tom._

_Being honest with herself, she realized he presented just as much a problem as anything else. He seemed to be pretending that none of it was happening—that their daughter possessed no unusual faculties and that the videos that had emerged simply did not exist. Given the extent of just how untrue all of that was, it presented another serious difficulty to her. He seemed to want desperately to retreat from this new, emerging world of the psychic._

_There were other videos now, posted in the time since the first ones appeared and catching some of these people in even more desperate acts of destruction. In one such recording, a young man in a supermarket somewhere in North America had caused a fight. He had then proceeded to levitate the supermarket shelves off the floor in anger. They had flown into each other in an explosive fashion. Nora would watch these videos once and then never again; they were too devastating for her._

_The sun was dipping below the horizon, and an orange glow came over them in the car. It had stopped raining and the clouds had cleared only ten minutes before. The dark, slick country road stretched before them in a curving, ponderous way. Nora lay back and closed her eyes. The window was open an inch and a cool breeze blew her hair._

_"Maybe I will call the college tomorrow. Maybe it's not too late for this year," she said, suspecting that she was lying, both to herself and to Tom. Overly courageous she was not—introspective, she was._

_"Good for you," she heard him reply._

_She fell asleep then with the realization that she did want to go back. She was good, but over the years her painting had suffered. There were still a few pieces of her work scattered throughout the house. She had sold quite a few of them as well. Whenever that happened, she, Tom, and Jane would celebrate with a meal at a nice restaurant and a toy for Jane. This usually took the form of a sophisticated digital device that Nora knew nothing about, from a world she didn't take much part in._

_She drifted off thinking about this—how alive painting made her feel and that she was good. She didn't need anyone to qualify that for her. In a half-dream state, streaks of red danced in front of her; the blood-red hues of the roses she had once loved to paint came to life in swirling swaths of dangerous color._

_She woke up shortly afterward as the car swerved violently to the right. Tom had misjudged a turn on the dark roads, and the tires had lost their grip; the car was out of his control. He pulled the wheel far to the left, but overcorrected. Her body jerked to the right, and a single grunt escaped her lips as her temple hit the window on her side. Nora's eyes seized on the spinning road in front of her, and she gripped the handle. She screamed as adrenaline flooded her body, but there was no real time to comprehend the grim reality they were facing; they were going straight out over the embankment into the darkness of a valley below._

_She stopped breathing entirely as the car went over the edge with Tom still trying, pointlessly, to wrestle control of the wheel. She could think only of Jane, who spoke to her from the back in a small, weak voice. It was as though she were speaking from another world._

_"Mom, I'm slipping..." was all Nora heard as they flew through the brambles lining the unmarked road and sailed into the ocean of air ahead._

_Nora would later ponder what her daughter had meant by that phrase and come to an understanding: The surface, conscious person whom Nora knew as her daughter slipped and gave way to the atavistic, protective force somewhere inside her._

_Then, with the darkness of nothing sailing past her window, Nora turned her head to look at her daughter's face one last time. She felt it. It was the same rippling energy that had come from Jane when she caught the savage dog, only this time it was ten times more powerful. She felt a tsunami of force wash over her as the energy_ exploded _outward from her Jane's mind._

_The window next to her smashed outward, sending glass shimmering down into the valley. She heard the chassis buckle around them under the pressure and watched in mute, breathless awe as some of the glass rose from the smashed window and into the front section of the vehicle, only to hover there like some strange, glinting ornaments. The sound of the windshield as it buckled and splintered into a hundred fragments resounded throughout the vehicle, though it remained intact._

_The car was dipping forward towards the darkness below when it began to slow. Then it froze in midair, suspended in the grip of Jane's mind. Nora screamed as both she and Tom slammed against their seatbelts. She was dazed and thought_ Probably have whiplash _. She did._

_She looked over the countryside that stretched below them like a gaping mouth, inviting them to their deaths. She pushed back against her seatbelt and turned abruptly, ignoring the spike of pain that went up her neck and seemed to go across her skull and into her forehead._

_She looked at Jane, and then a new wave of fear swept over her. Jane, pressed against her seatbelt, appeared to have fallen into some kind of catatonic state; her pupils were dilated, and her breathing was desperate and rapid. Nora knew immediately that the conscious Jane—her daughter—was gone, and what was there was only the protective force from where this power came. She lost all concern for her own safety then._

_There was another problem that now echoed in her mind. What if Jane didn't have the strength to pull the car back up? No human—especially a child—was ever meant to channel energy like this. Nora didn't need anybody else to confirm this for her; it came in a tremendous, instinctive knowing. An image formed in her mind of an elastic band stretching and snapping._

_She was about to reach behind her when Tom began to move. She looked over at him as he lifted his left leg and placed it on the forward dashboard. She watched in horror as he unhooked his seatbelt and turned to reach for Jane. Then the car lurched again, worse this time. Nora's body jerked like a puppet and the world faded around her as she lost consciousness._

***

_A week after the accident, Nora heard Jane wake in the night and go downstairs. She looked at Tom, who was so far on the other side of the bed that he was inches from falling off the edge. He was lying with the side of his face flat against the pillow and one arm dangled over the side. She got up and followed Jane down the dimly lit hallway. She walked past the mirror there, and in the dim light she could tell that she had lost weight._

_Her silk nightgown trailed around her, and her long black hair came down past her shoulders. The shadows that fell across her angular features revealed her sunken cheeks, and drops of blood poured from a reopened gash on the right side of her face. She had no recollection of receiving it. She reached up and wiped the minute trace of fresh blood away. She placed her thumb in her mouth, cleaning off the droplet. The metallic tinge enveloped her sense of taste and smell. She felt a moment of shame that she didn't understand and wrapped her nightgown around her tightly._

_She reached the staircase of their small house and looked up for a moment, noticing that it somehow felt larger now. The ceilings seemed to stretch into infinity, and the rain that shadowed the walls seemed to be falling from another world. She put her hand on the staircase for a moment, fearing that she was about to lose her balance, and took a deep breath._

Stop, Nora! _a fierce voice said from inside her. And she did physically stop on top of the staircase. She gritted her teeth and looked up through the skylight._ There's no time for this. Jane needs you. _The shadows of rain trailed down her dry cheeks for a second more before she turned and descended the stairs, discarding the traces of trauma that still lingered from the accident._

_She entered the kitchen and found Jane attempting to make chocolate milk for herself._

_When Jane saw her, she said, "I couldn't sleep anymore."_

_Nora smiled at her. She allowed herself to believe for a second that everything was fine, and that their world was perfectly normal. In this fantasy scenario, Jane was just a typical, if not precocious, child who couldn't sleep._

_"That's okay. Why don't you go inside and put on a movie? I'll make this for you, and we can watch it together."_

_Jane's eyes lit up. "Really?" she asked._

_"Yeah, sure, kiddo. You go pick the movie and I'll be there in a moment." She watched as Jane left the room with a smile on her face. It was three o'clock in the morning. Nora proceeded to heat the milk, then reached for the chocolate mix. She heard the television come on and the channels change as Jane selected a movie to watch._

_As the milk heated, thoughts about Tom teetered on the outskirts of her mind, wanting to enter. In the mere week since the accident, he had drifted even further from her—from them—in a jarring, rapid fashion. She stared into the milk as steam rose off the surface, trying not to think about what that meant for her future._

_She entered the living room a few moments later to find Jane sitting on the sofa with her legs stretched in front of her. Nora placed the cocoa on the coffee table in front of them and warned her daughter that it was hot and to be careful. Nora sat next to Jane and put her feet up beside her daughter's. Jane had selected_ A Bug's Life _, and Nora's mind began to drift again as the colorful movie began. She remembered it as an older animated movie, and she noticed the difference in graphic quality immediately. She was about to ask her daughter why she had chosen such an aged movie, but decided against it._

_She wasn't allowed to think of Tom and the fact that he seemed to be drifting even farther away from them since the accident. She tried concentrating on the movie instead. Her neck still hurt from where the bolt of force from her daughter's mind had impacted it; her hand now found its way to that place instinctively and massaged it. In this way, her mind was yet again automatically drawn back to the incident._

_Jane had saved them. If it hadn't been for her daughter's ability to command this unknown energy, all three of them would have died. But it had devastated her. Nora could only wonder at the prospect that Jane may have been dealt permanent damage by stopping their car the way she had. Nora could only desperately hope that Jane had not. There were other things to be concerned about, too._

_The tone of the interviews with so-called experts on the matter was becoming increasingly contentious. One man, in an interview she did not want to remember, had suggested that this emerging group of people who seemed to have supernormal faculties should not be allowed to enter society at all. He had argued that they would not be able to function as members of society on a normal basis. This had been a segment from an Irish news station. The tone of the arguments on the international and North American channels was even more combative._

_There were others, thankfully, who heralded the arrival of these young people as an indication of some kind of transcendence of the human spirit. As one man had put it, it was "the beginning of the final adjustment of mankind to the cosmos, the end of history." He had said that these people should be protected, not persecuted, chased or demonized. In fact, he had made it quite clear that there was no other moment in human history wherein the actions of mankind were "of such tremendous import and grandeur."_

_These words echoed inside Nora's mind as she sipped the cocoa and pretended to watch the movie. She was under no illusions about her role in things if the latter was the case. If Jane's ability was symptomatic of some forthcoming transcendent event, her role in it would be negligible. She felt a small pang of sadness at this thought, but pushed it aside; it was of minimal importance to her._

_Jane called her mind back when she looked up at Nora and asked ponderously, "Are you watching, Mom?"_

_"Of course," she replied, lying._

_A moment of silence came over them as Nora really did try to watch some of the movie. She breathed deeply and sipped the cocoa. She could sense that her daughter was waiting to say something else. After a few minutes Jane finally spoke again._

_"Mom?" she asked in a gentle voice._

_"Yes?"_

_"There's a man in my dreams," she said simply._

_Nora felt her heart rate quicken immediately. "Really?" she asked as calmly as she could, but still, she heard her voice croak slightly. "What about him?"_

_"He's a tall man. He wears a black coat and he calls himself 'Max.' Or maybe I call him Max. I don't remember."_

_"Does he talk to you?"_

_"Yes. He helped me move the stones in the pond so I could cross it. He was sitting on a bench across the water reading a book, and he asked me to come and sit with him."_

_"So did you do it? Did you move the stones?" Nora asked in as casual a tone as she could._

_"Yes. I crossed the water and then we went walking in the park."_

_"What was it like?" Nora hoped the slight cracking of her voice was not evident to her daughter as she listened to her seven-year-old child tell her about this figment. But_ figment _was not the word that entered her mind. The word echoing around her consciousness was_ specter _._

_"It was amazing, Mom. The leaves were so many different colors. Like brown in the autumn, but not brown, like another color. It was like another—" Jane said, then hesitated._

_"Like another world?" Nora said. She hadn't planned to say anything, but found herself continuing Jane's thought reflexively._

_"Yes!" her daughter exclaimed._

_"And then what happened?"_

_"He told me things." Jane paused for a moment. "He said 'We've been detected.'"_

_Nora shivered, and she felt as though her body temperature had dropped by ten degrees. Whatever this apparition was, she knew instantly that it or he—whoever it or he was—was correct. She felt it. She knew it. A flood of images and memories went through her mind: a collage of news reports and articles discussing the growing number of incidents regarding incredible superhuman feats. She realized that she had anticipated this, if only on a less-than-conscious level; somebody had found a way to detect these manifestations, and who knew what they were planning to do?_

_"He said that when we had the accident with the car they detected it, and they're sending people after us."_

_"Who, Jane? Who is 'they'?" Nora asked, trying to mask the growing concern in her voice, but mostly failing._

_"I don't know... Men."_

_Nora composed herself as best as she could, even though she was now in a state of high alert. She looked into her daughter's eyes. "Okay. What else did he say, Jane?"_

_"I don't remember."_

_"Try, Jane...please."_

_Her daughter looked to the side for a moment, thinking. Her brow furrowed. "He did say some other things." She seemed to be concentrating fiercely, trying to remember. "He said I have to make sure I can handle them. I have to...practice. He showed me how to hide it—you know, when I move things, Mom?"_

_Nora looked into her daughter's eyes. "Yes," she replied, hiding any concerns she felt as her daughter so casually brought up the subject._

_"He was showing me how to do it—how to concentrate so they wouldn't know that I could do it, because they're going to test me, I think."_

_Nora thought about running immediately, but Jane spoke again, nodding her head as though reading her mind._

_"He said we won't be able to get away from them. He said they'll find us too easily."_

_Damn, Nora thought. "Okay. So these people...when are they coming?"_

_"In a few days, I think."_

_"What do they want?"_

_"They want to know about me. Maybe they want to take me with them. I'm not sure."_

_Nora tried not to let her face betray her sinking heart as she heard these words. "What do we have to do?" she asked._

_"Nothing, really. He just wants me to... I mean, when they come, he said I have to concentrate so that I can hide it from them, and he showed me how to do it."_

_"Can you do it? Can you do it the way he showed you?"_

_"Yes, I think so."_

_"Good girl." Nora put her arm around Jane again and felt mildly elated. She suddenly felt supported in a way she hadn't been for quite a long time. She thought that strange, as Jane had only been referring to a dream. Still, something inside told her that there was more to it than that. She briefly wondered whether Jane had created this image of the man herself subconsciously as some kind of response to the trauma of the accident. But that idea didn't sit right with her at all. No. Whoever this man was, he had some existence of his own somewhere._

_A Bug's Life was still playing in front of her. They had missed a portion of it, but Nora was only remotely aware of her surroundings. She sipped her cocoa as her daughter did and made considerable effort to keep the cup from shaking as she lifted it to her lips and placed it back on the table. Jane's words came back to her: We've been detected._

_Somehow, she found rational thought again. Well, at least we know it's coming. That's the important thing. She said the name to herself. "Max." Then she said it again. She felt something click inside her as she said the name in her mind. Whatever this apparition in her daughter's dream had been, she silently thanked him. She felt as though the bubble they had been living in had finally burst. It was almost a relief._
CHAPTER 4 - PALAVER

CHAPTER 4

PALAVER

The light in the room had died down somewhat since Nora had begun recounting her difficult and unusual past to Jack. He was sitting forward in the armchair opposite her in the other corner of the room, and he had his hands clasped in front of him. He rubbed one over the other gently. He was staring at her from glassy eyes that reflected the remaining embers of the fire.

"I know you had a serious accident, Nora. I never imagined the exact circumstances were so extraordinary."

Nora went to speak, though the words didn't come at first; her lips moved and nothing came out. "I'm sorry I wasn't specific before—I never have been with anyone."

He was silent for a moment; his lips quivered for a second before he continued. "So your memory stops when the car jerked the second time?" he asked.

"Yes. I don't know what happened after that; I lost consciousness. All I know is Jane...somehow...she managed to get us back up onto the road."

Jack exhaled. "Is there a chance Jane has been carrying some kind of trauma with her all these years?" he asked.

Nora sighed. "She knows what happened. She knows she lifted the car. But she doesn't remember many of the details. Tom was drifting from us fast then. He was gone three months later. We divorced a couple of years after that—as you know."

Jack looked down at the ground for a moment, then brought his gaze back up to meet hers. "So, did they come?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"Well, I saw the car coming down the street and I knew it was them. I didn't even tell Tom what Jane had said. I just thought that would complicate things further. He was at work when they came. The first man who came to the door said he was a member of an international Committee that had been assembled in response to the emergence of people with psionic abilities. I couldn't stop him; he walked right into the house."

"What happened?"

"He tried to _trick_ her, Jack."

"How?"

"Well, he had a cup of hot coffee with him, and he tried to set her up. He told her it was boiling hot and he knocked it off the table right in front of her to see if she would react."

"Did she?"

"No. She was prepared. I know I've told you some...odd things tonight, Jack. Probably the strangest is the dream she had about Max, the presence who warned her they were coming. Do you accept that?"

He looked to the side and seemed to consider this deeply. "Yes," he replied after a moment, nodding his head. "About that, though...I have to ask—do you think that was something she herself created or...something else?"

"I knew you'd ask that. It's something I've thought a lot about over the years, obviously. Honestly, I don't know, but I'm leaning towards the latter."

"You mean, you think he was real? Like some kind of—"

"Apparition?" she said, then paused for a moment, her eyes glancing towards the remaining firelight. "Yes."

"That's fascinating."

"Well, that's the closest word I've ever really come to describing it. The reality of what that man represented is—in actuality—probably far beyond my understanding."

He nodded at her in agreement.

"Well, whatever it was, or whoever _he_ was, he explained to her what to do to avoid being detected."

"What happened then?"

"Well, after they asked Jane their questions, he asked me to join him in the kitchen, and then he started asking me invasive questions without any remorse at all. He asked, 'Did your daughter use psychokinetic force to levitate your car?' I looked him dead in the eye and said, 'No.'"

Jack stared at her, his brow furrowed upward in astonishment.

"You know, I actually got angry with him," she continued, "but he wouldn't let up. He asked, 'Did she break the passenger window with said force? Did your husband accidentally misjudge a turn and drive your car straight over the edge of a cliff, a fall from which your daughter then protected you?'"

She stopped and took a sip of her wine. "He fired questions at me for another five minutes. I swear I nearly broke, but I didn't. I stood there, facing him, and lied about everything."

"Did he believe you?"

"I didn't care then. It got him out of my life. The impression I get is that he answered to somebody. I think he needed some kind of solid evidence, and he had none. So he did the only thing he could; He left, disappointed." She sipped her wine, and they both fell once again into silence. Nora felt a long-awaited elation at being able to share these secrets with someone close to her. It felt like giant chains were unwrapping from her body.

"The last thing he said to me before he left was 'I'm sure you're aware at this point that we have the ability to detect psionic activity, Mrs. Connor. We have a file now with your name on it. If anything shows up again, we will be coming back.'" Nora took a deep breath and exhaled. She ran her hands through her hair to comfort herself.

"So what are you planning to do in the future?" Jack asked after a moment of silence punctuated only by the quiet sounds of crackling from the fire.

She considered this. "Stay hidden, I guess. Let the world evolve around us in whatever way it wants. We'll just stay out of it."

"Are you sure that's going to work?" he asked, the doubt in his face obvious.

She stared at him and shrugged her shoulders. She had no answer.

Jack took a deep breath. "You know, Nora, I wouldn't have thought for a second that the rumors about these places— _the facilities_ —were true. But with everything you've told me tonight, I'd say it's actually quite likely." He paused and looked up at her with solemn, firelit eyes. "And there's the guy who wrote that book, _First Something..._ " he trailed off, thinking.

Nora looked at the copy of the book on her coffee table. Jack did not know it was sitting next to him. " _First Visions_ ," she said placidly.

"Right. That's it. I didn't read all of the book. Honestly, it scared me a bit. But the kid he spent time with could see across countries, look over shoulders into computer systems, and even into people's minds. At the end of it, before I stopped reading it...he said he was talking to some kind of...well, he called them 'entities.'"

Nora had read that passage too. She recalled making the connection between that and her daughter's visitation from the man she called "Max."

"So these people...whoever they are...what is it you think they want?" she asked.

"Power? Control? Maybe something else entirely? Who knows? Nothing would surprise me," he said, then paused, seeming reluctant to continue. "And whatever this energy is...I mean, if Jane can levitate cars with her thoughts..."

"I'm not so sure about that, Jack. It could have been a fluke. I don't think any human mind was built to channel that kind of power."

He stared back at her in the dim light and nodded. "Right," he said, the doubt in his voice palpable. "But what are you going to do if things get bad? I mean _really_ bad, Nora?"

Nora thought about this and then replied simply, "Run."

The warmth of the fire faded slowly as their conversation came to an end.
CHAPTER 5 - STIRRINGS

CHAPTER 5

STIRRINGS

There were four inches of snow on the ground by the time Jane got out of bed late on Saturday. She looked at the college information package that lay on her dresser, then raised an eyebrow dismissively and glanced off to her left, stepping out of bed. She wanted to go to college—she wanted to study English and Art History—but she had a feeling this would not be the course her life would take. Sometimes it seemed as though she were standing on a platform above the river of her life, and she could, with a push from her mind, illuminate the distance a bit better and see the direction the course was taking.

Her mother was out running errands and had told Jane that she wouldn't be back until later in the evening. Jane relished this time to herself. It was beautiful outside. She stood on the back porch looking at the snow and pondered her strange life. After a while, she went back inside and prepared lunch. The house was warm. She finished her sandwich and lay back on the sofa. The intuition she had about not returning to school wouldn't leave her.

_Why wouldn't I be going back to school? What is going to happen that will change my life that dramatically_? she wondered. The answer did not come easily. It was inside a myriad things that were scant and difficult to define, but she gradually pulled the pieces together into a pattern.

The problem that was of primary concern was that the situation around the world regarding people like herself was intensifying. The rumors and accusations regarding the existence of the facilities were growing. Mainstream news outlets had commented on the subject in a tentative fashion, but most people were skeptical. After all, if such places existed, wouldn't they be public knowledge? How—and more importantly, why—would the governments of the world keep such facilities a secret?

It wasn't just that. Something had already changed in her. She was _moving things_ again. Just small things—books, coffee cups, glasses—and she was changing channels on the television with just her thoughts. She found that focusing the power in these small ways did not tire her, but her ability waned quickly.

Still, she had not done this since she was a child, when it was something that was very much unconscious and out of her control. Now she was wielding the ability consciously, as one would take a drink from a glass of water. There was a feeling of guilt—like a faded bruise—whenever she used it, but she pushed past it as best as she could.

She had the deep sense that she had opened a floodgate. The more she did it, the more she wanted to. One afternoon, with her mother in bed, Jane had gotten into her car, focused on the engine, and held her outstretched palm over it, electrifying it. She didn't know how a car worked at all, but she found that if she focused hard enough, she could figure out where the parts fit and then electrify the right components to get the engine going.

She was reaching out with her mind to take control of the wheel when something stopped her. She was about to cross a barrier. Until that moment, she had done nothing but levitate a few glasses and books, really just to prove to herself that the power was still there. She had almost scared herself into believing that it could be gone, and so she had found those engines buried in her mind, uncovered them, and brought them back to life.

She didn't know what the threshold was for detection, but she knew she must be nearing it. A few books here and there would fade into the background, but a hundred books probably would not. Taking control of a car was definitely asking for trouble. A voice spoke up from within her. _Do you want them to find you?_ it asked. She unhooked her mind from the wheel and released her control of the engine. The car fell from her grasp and the engine switched off. She exhaled and stepped out.

_There'll be another day for things like this,_ she thought. _Another time._ Then she had come crashing back to reality: to the silver, wintery light as it glinted off the snow, to her mother who worked hard to support her and their odd life, and their only real friend, Jack, whom she loved dearly.

She was an Ethereal (an expression she had initially derided but grown to accept). She had an unusual faculty that she could not use, could not truly explore for fear of men showing up at her house and taking her. _Is that a realistic fear?_ she asked herself, and the answer came back: _Yes_. They had come before. They _did_ exist. The single man whose name she remembered was Lucas, and she had been warned about his coming by Max.

Max was good, but as far as she knew, he was gone. So it was just her and her mother—and the ethereal abilities she had not really explored—against what could be an army of faceless suited men with extremely sophisticated tracking equipment and information. One slip and they would come for her. Her father could not—or would not—help her now. He lived in Bordeaux, France, and she rarely spoke to him.

She had returned to her room now and was gathering laundry. Then, as she headed back down the stairs, she heard _his_ voice, just barely. The light from the sun was almost gone and the staircase was dark. It was lined with framed photographs of her family at a time when there were still three of them. Suddenly, for just a moment, it seemed as though great shafts of warm summer light were sweeping in from the windows overhead. She glanced at the photographs and saw her reflection as she heard him whisper.

_Jane_.

"What?" she said out loud, gasping and turning. She froze on the staircase, breathing deeply and loudly, adrenaline flooding her body. She lost her patience. "WHAT?! WHO IS IT?" she barked into the empty space around her.

But there was no answer, and nothing else came from the voice. It was gone. It was as though a radio station had managed to get its equipment functioning for one brief second before losing the signal again. She composed herself and continued down the stairs. She didn't really need any further confirmation, for she knew who it was—the distantly remembered vision from her childhood: Max.

***

Max had appeared to Jane in a more tangible form soon after she heard him whispering in her mind on the staircase. It was a day that would alter the course of her life. She was sure she had experienced more dreams of him as a child (although she could remember only one clearly). They had been vivid, but she couldn't remember the details except for him; she remembered _him_ quite well. He was a tall man who appeared to her in a park that looked like it was located on another world.

She thought about this and tried her best to remember the palette of the dreams and the color of the leaves. They had been brown, like autumn, but not really brown. They were like another color entirely, one she could not remember once she re-entered normal consciousness and spatial awareness. Had those dreams been dreams of another world? Somehow, she suspected they had.

_Okay Jane, what else do you know about him?_ she wondered. She closed her eyes and imagined the park as best as she could. The first thing that came to mind was safety. She felt safe with this man. Max could— _would_ —protect her; she knew this the moment she had seen him. The second thing that came to mind when she thought about Max was that he was wise. She could tell from the way he moved, the way he talked and the way he carried himself. She could not remember everything they had talked about, and perhaps she never would. But she had the impression they had taken part in long, deep conversations about...something. She struggled again, trying to remember. _The universe?_ The words echoed in her mind as she considered them. _Seems right,_ she thought, answering her own question.

He had warned her about the men who were coming, and he showed her how to focus so that she could minimize the brainwave patterns associated with psychokinesis. He also told her about the picture game they would play with her and warned her not to answer the questions so that she got all of them wrong; that would give her away. The trick was to answer them so that approximately half of them were right. This, again, had been good advice.

She was lying on the sofa now as a gentle drowsiness overcame her. The house was silent. Her mother had gone to meet Jack and they wouldn't be home until later.

She recalled being in the room with Lucas. She had relished the look on his face as she let the coffee cup fall to the floor and break. He had looked like a fool when his face came back up to meet hers.

Max had been right about that, too. _He'll try to trick you._ The echoes of his voice as he had said this particular thing entered her mind as she drifted into a light sleep. Then the floodgate opened, and she could see the dream as clearly as if it had occurred yesterday.
CHAPTER 6 - THE DISTANT SEA

CHAPTER 6

THE DISTANT SEA

_Jane could feel a serene, gentle breeze on her face. At first, there was only the blackness of unconsciousness. Then the breeze drifted across her, and she could hear the whispering of her name._

Jane.

_She opened her eyes to the strange, stark light of the world where she found herself. There were trees all around her, and she could hear the sound of water flowing. The tree trunks were dark brown and looked hard and wiry like wax. The leaves were almost all brown, like one would expect in autumn, but it was not quite like that. These leaves looked perfectly healthy, as though brown was their natural color. There was a light floral scent on the wind as Jane breathed the cool air deeply._

_She looked up and saw that the sky was incandescent red with streaks of clouds across it. The clouds didn't seem to reflect the red in the sky and kept an off-white color, which struck Jane as strange. They drifted towards the left of the sky with streaks coming out of their lateral forms._

_Jane had paid a lot of attention to star formations; her time in the countryside had given her a view of them that most people would never know. The stars above her now were different. There were more of them and they were brighter. Jane thought there must have been a million distinct points of light across the sky, varying in intensity, brightness and color. Trees enclosed the area on either side of her, but she could see the sky through a big gap in the canopy of leaves above. It was a beautiful, distant sea._

_She stood where she was for a space of time she could not discern, staring at the beautiful sky. Then the world around her began to grow brighter. The stars faded slowly as a sun rose somewhere through the trees to her right, casting dusty, orange shafts of light through the trees. Then she heard his voice in her mind, whispering again._

Jane.

_She looked at the water for the source of the voice and then farther across it. There was a man sitting on a bench on the other side of the water. He had a book in his hands, but she could not see the title. It had an old, tattered look to it, as though it was not quite meant for reading, but perhaps more of an adornment found in a restaurant or an old-style pub. He was holding the book open, but not reading it; he was looking directly at her._

_"Hello," she heard herself say aloud, although she was unprepared to say anything._

_"Hello, Jane."_

_"What's your name?"_

_"My name's Max." He paused and then looked briefly to his right at the scenery before him. He turned back to her, smiling. "Do you like it here?" he asked._

_"Yes, it's beautiful. But I don't know where we are."_

_"Well, this is very far from the place you call home. Would you like to come across so we can talk?"_

_"Okay."_

_She found herself desperately wanting to go to this man and talk to him. Oddly, it was in the dream that the word she had been searching for to describe him in her waking life came to her:_ enigmatic. _She walked to the water's edge without thinking, but then she hesitated. She was staring down at the slow-moving, glass-like water when she heard his voice again in that strange way she had before, not aloud, but like a whisper in her mind._

You can cross the water, Jane. You just have to move the rocks. There are some behind you.

_She looked up at him, then behind her. She found that, indeed, a pile of large stones stood behind her in a clearing near one of the trees._

_"They're too heavy for me, Max."_

No they're not. Not if you lift them with your thoughts.

_"How do I do that?"_

You need to reach out with your mind. Feel the texture of the rock. Feel every surface and then grip it, like you would grip something physically, except you're doing it with your imagination.

_"All right," she replied. Somehow, in this strange place, she found that everything made sense to her. The idea that she could lift the rocks with her thoughts seemed perfectly natural. She turned around again and focused on the topmost rock. She did as he said and felt every surface. She was surprised to find that she could do this. She felt the coldness of the stone; the taste of dirt and dank water filled her mind as though she had actually touched the rocks to her lips._

_She tugged on the rock with her mind, hesitantly at first. Then she lifted it. The rock rose upward obligingly by two feet, and then just as suddenly fell back on the pile, breaking into two pieces with a crashing sound that rolled back towards her in the thin, cool air. She felt enormous frustration._

Try again, Jane.

_She heard Max's comforting voice drift over her mind with that same gentle, sonic lull. She looked behind at him, and he nodded. She turned around and again focused her thoughts on the rocks. This time she was determined, and the next rock rose into the air obediently. She lifted it across the grass and placed it down in the water. It made a plopping sound as it landed, and water splashed up around it. She smiled and was overcome with a feeling of satisfaction._

Very good, Jane. Now the rest of them. Keep going, _he said._

_She lifted all the rocks as she had done the first until there was a pathway across the water. Then she walked out over the stones, unafraid. Once on the other side, Max stood to greet her. As he did, the golden-brown trees became a backdrop to his tall, slim figure, and he became a silhouette as he blocked most of the light from the rising sun. He held out his hand, and she extended hers to shake it._

_"Nice to meet you, Jane."_

_"Nice to meet you, Max."_

_He began to walk through the clearing between the trees on the other side. She followed along, walking by his side._

_"Is this a dream?" she asked, walking forward merrily, delighted at the beauty of the place and intrigued by this unusual person she had just met._

_He looked down at her and smiled, squinting slightly in the sunlight. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Your body is asleep, but your mind is awake. Your consciousness has traveled here at my behest. I wanted to meet you and tell you about some important things that are coming."_

_"Who are you? I don't think you're a—" She struggled to find the word._

_"A person?"_

_"Yes, a person. A...human being?"_

_He smiled. "You don't think I'm human?"_

_She thought about this for a moment, then answered, "No...no, not really."_

_"Well, that would be correct, Jane," he said. His brow furrowed into lines when he said this, an act that reminded her of her father. Max continued, "I'm not really. I was human once. I spent a lifetime as a human, but that was a long time ago."_

_"So what are you now?"_

_"Something else," he said after a moment. Then he continued, "I'm not exactly like you, Jane." He stopped walking and looked down at her. His brow furrowed again just slightly as he seemed to consider this._

_"Why did you make me come here?" she asked._

_"Well, the main reason is because you can do things other people can't, and that's what I'm most interested in. That's what's most important."_

_"But that only happens sometimes with little things. Like last week when I wanted my milk and I knocked it off the table."_

_"Yes, but little things can grow over time. A trickle of water can become a river very quickly and without much warning." He paused and his face grew serious. "And that can attract_ a lot _of attention."_

_They walked into a clear area with no trees. The light shone brightly now in Jane's eyes. There was a landscape before them that was completely alien to her. It was filled with rocks and unusual trees of all kinds. There were vibrant colors—purples, reds and oranges—across the ground hundreds of feet below them. The unusual red hues of the sky seemed to intensify the coloring effect._

_It seemed as though a second sun was in the sky—a smaller one farther in the distance—and it was something so novel to Jane that her mind could hardly grasp it. Her jaw gaped open as she stared in awe at what was in front of her. There was a word that she could associate with what she was seeing, but it was just beyond her reach. Her father had used it once when they were outside and he was telling her about the stars. The word began with a B._ But Dad's been different since the accident...

_"Binary, Jane. That's the word you're looking for. Yes, this is a binary star system. There are several planets, and this is the only inhabitable world. There's a small preindustrial population on the other side of the planet. They, of course, don't know we're here. Even if they did, they probably wouldn't be able to see us; we're not physically present, exactly." He smiled widely then, as though this were very funny to him._

_She supposed it was kind of funny, but her young mind suspected she was missing the humor of the joke entirely._

_"You mean—"_

_"Yes, extraterrestrials."_

_"Well...what do they look like?" She found herself incredibly excited at the prospect of seeing aliens. She was surprised to find that she wasn't frightened at all._

_Max looked at her and laughed. "That's well beyond the scope of this visit. And by the way," he said, standing in front of her, blocking the tremendous light of the rising sun, "don't worry about your father."_

_He appeared to her like a giant then. She cast her eyes to the ground. She could feel the tears welling up. The tall, kind man knelt in front of her and looked into her eyes._

_"It will be fine, Jane."_

_"Okay."_

_"I'll be watching you as well."_

_This prospect lifted her spirits tremendously, and she found her worries disappearing for the first time since the accident._ What a strange dream, _she thought._

_"So," he said, standing up, "let me tell you about the things that are concerning me, okay, Jane?" He stood and they began walking across the edge of the massive cliff._

_Jane looked far below them at the dense, purple-and-orange canopy of trees. Then she looked out beyond them past a couple of miles of forest. In the distance, the land was flat and barren, and she could see a herd of animals running together in a group. To Jane, they seemed like dinosaurs. She knew, given the distance, that the animals must have been enormous. She had seen an elephant at the zoo once, but these animals would have to be bigger than that for her to see them from where she was._

_Just above the land, hovering in the sky like a beautiful lamp, was another world. It was blue in color with large streaks of white, and Jane could make out the strange, stationary swirls of cloud that moved across its surface. It was enormous and took up a space twice the size of her outstretched palm held towards the sky. It was encircled by dim brown rings that were almost transparent; they curved upward and disappeared behind it into a thin line._

_"The thing is," Max continued, "there are people on your world who are searching for people like you. People who can_ do _things. People who can_ move _things and_ hear _things. They've found ways to detect it, and not all of them are_ good _people, Jane."_

_She found herself pondering what he had said. She found the concepts difficult to understand. "So, what do they want with...people like me?"_

_"Control, mostly. Control over their own fear. There are some bad and some good. But the man they're sending to check on you is the one we particularly need to focus on."_

_She considered the implications of what he was saying. "You mean, they're already sending people?"_

_"Yes, Jane. I'm afraid you've been detected. So we need to focus on keeping you safe, keeping you out of their hands and off their radar for as long as possible."_

_She cast her eyes downward to consider this. She found the prospect of people coming after her frightening._

_"Don't worry, Jane," he said, "we'll figure this out together."_

_"Okay," she said, and they continued walking. They were approaching another area filled with the strange trees. There was a clear path ahead of them that cut through the trees on either side. Arcs of sunlight swept through the clear sections from the west. Large winged insects fluttered around and moved in and out of the bright beams of dusty light, oblivious to their presence. Jane closed her eyes and smiled widely. The sunlight beamed on her face and went through her skin to a deep level._

_"It was the car, wasn't it?" she asked. Jane couldn't remember exactly what had happened with the car two days before. "Did I move the car, Max? My mom wouldn't tell me about it."_

_"Yes you did, Jane."_

_"I didn't want to, it just happened... I couldn't remember it afterward," she said, realizing that she already suspected what she had done; she just hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she looked at the ground._

_Max put his hand on her shoulder. "Well, Jane, you did the right thing. You would have been killed otherwise. It was a_ good _thing."_

_She wiped a single tear from her eye. "That's why they're coming? They found us because of the car?"_

_"Yes, that's it exactly. So I need to tell you how to handle the situation when they arrive. There's one man in particular I don't like, Jane. I'm very troubled by the fact that he's coming to see you. That's why I summoned you here. He's dangerous. You may find that out yourself eventually, but you need to know it now, too. Don't trust him for a second. I've_ looked _at him."_

_Jane looked up at Max. The strange, beautiful trees swayed in the breeze behind him. She thought his face was the most beautiful one she had ever seen. But there was something hidden in his expression, something that even her young mind could detect. She was almost afraid to ask him. As she watched him, she saw the smile fade slowly from his lips, and his expression changed to one Jane had seen many times on the face of an adult when he or she had set a bad example._

_"Max, what's the other thing? The thing you don't want to tell me?" She wasn't sure where this impression was coming from, but she knew instinctively that he was withholding something from her, and she didn't know why. His mouth slowly opened, and she saw the unbecoming expression of surprise spread across his face._

_He turned and looked down the dusty trail that led farther into another section of the sparsely populated forest. "Amazing... That you would know that, Jane, is astonishing." He looked back at her, and his brow furrowed—fully this time, deep lines forming above his eyes. "There is something else. Something important. But it's too soon to talk about. Okay? You'll just have to trust me."_

_"Okay." She was curious, but she had no problem trusting him completely. "When you looked at the man, what did you see?"_

_He paused and looked into her eyes. "He'll try to trick you, Jane."_

_She took one last look at the beautiful sky, the two suns that filled it and the canopy of wild color below. She could see, in the distance, another strange flock of animals running across a plain of grass tinged with red. Then she looked up again as the memory faded. She felt Max place his hand on her shoulder as the world dissolved into blackness and she floated off the surface into some space, somewhere else._
CHAPTER 7 - SYNCHRONOUS

CHAPTER 7

SYNCHRONOUS

Jane woke up with that last sentence echoing in her mind. The place in the memory that was now so clear had been beautiful indeed. She sat up on the sofa and recalled staring into Max's eyes. They had been a distant icy blue, and she could see glints of sunlight in them. She had felt tremendous peace looking into them. There was only a distant, lingering trace of these feelings from the dream now as she readjusted to the surroundings of her present existence.

Her mother arrived from work shortly after with a surprise: Jack was with her. Jane stepped onto their front porch. The snow crunched beneath her feet as her mother yelled from the footpath, "Look who I found!"

He was walking towards them from up the street, having parked his car elsewhere. Jane smiled when she saw him, and he smiled back. Nora went to the back of her car to gather groceries. Jack approached and began to help.

"Do you want help?" Jane yelled out to him.

"No, kid, I'll get it. Just wait there for a second. I've got something for you," he said, holding up his hand, proudly displaying a wrapped parcel.

Jane looked up and around into the night. Her teeth chattered as she inhaled the bitingly cold air, and she wrapped her cardigan around her more tightly. As Jack approached from behind the vehicle, she had the sudden, pre-emptive feeling that she should warn them both. _Warn them about what?_ she wondered, taking in another gulp of the ice-cold air.

As her mother and Jack continued placing groceries into bags in the back of the car, the feeling intensified. The two of them were talking and laughing about something. They suddenly seemed dangerously vulnerable to her. Then Jane heard the screech of tires. It was a sound locked firmly into her memory from an event that had happened so long ago that it seemed as though it were from a different life. Even though it was a memory she had never been able to fully uncover, she associated this sound with the tremendous discomfort of her father's estrangement.

She winced as she heard the sound, unaware that she was doing so. Then a sense of unreality washed over her, and she began to hear stirrings—the confused, drunken thoughts of a man in her head, as though someone were turning the dial on a radio receiver.

_Damn her—...do whatever I—...can't tell me what to—_

Jane covered the side of her face with her palm as she tried to focus. _What's happening_? she wondered. There was a car she could see now, careening down the road from their left. It was only fifty feet from them and approaching rapidly.

She became aware of several things: Her mother and Jack were not aware of the danger, and the car was too close. Then she realized that something very obvious had changed in her field of vision. Her eyes drifted to the left, past her mother and Jack and across the street. She saw that Max was standing there. He appeared almost exactly as he had in the dream, wearing the same long black coat, only this time it was wrapped around his frame. He was staring at her from those same glacial, penetrating eyes. She flinched in surprise as she realized he was really there, standing on the footpath across the street only twenty feet away.

_Jane, you have to push the car_ , she heard him say in her mind in that same echoing voice she recalled from the dreams of her youth. The urgency in his voice caused her to tremble.

"But they'll..."

_They won't react in time, Jane. PUSH IT._

She knew he was right. The ripples of his thoughts had thankfully shut out the sound of the driver's confused rambling. She didn't have time to think; there was no time to wonder whether she could still do it—she just had to. She closed her eyes and reached into the recesses of her mind to where the power came, the place where she had kept it locked away. As she did, she heard the thunderous crack of some locked vault opening violently in her mind. Then suddenly the energy was there, ready for her command. She sent it forward and away from her in a confused, jarring fashion.

Every cell in her body rained with fire, lighting up like the stars as the gushing torrent of force raced down the steps. She opened her eyes as the invisible, ethereal energy slammed into the front of the car, just ten feet before it hit Jack and Nora. A shockwave from the impact flew outward, sending flutters of snow unfurling from the ground below.

She had her grip on the car now, and anger surged through her as the power immediately took its toll on her body. Jack and Nora were out of harm's way, but she kept pushing. The car flew around three hundred and sixty degrees, and the front bumper slammed into a lamppost, knocking the casing of the light free. It fell to the ground with a crash, creating a strange, mocking crescendo. Shards of glass tumbled away and stopped. Then there was silence.

She was breathing deeply, and a vaguely familiar dizziness came over her in waves. _Max,_ she called dimly in her mind. She thought he had begun to respond just as she collapsed to the ground.

***

Nora heard the bolt of force slam into the car behind her and turned to see it swerve violently as it skidded across the road and away from them. The car sent cascading swaths of snow flying into the air as it moved. It seemed to Nora as though the car were moving in slow motion as every cell in her body came alive with a familiar, rapid awareness. For a brief moment, she could see everything and all was clear. She saw the color of the car and the fact that it was old and rusted. She could see each individual clump of snow that flew up from underneath the tires as the car spun around.

Above them, she had a new awareness of the streetlight and how strangely beautiful it made everything seem. There was something else that she became aware of then in that microcosm of time that seemed to stretch on into infinity. There seemed to be a figure standing on the footpath where before there had been no one. She didn't look in his direction, as there was no time for that, but it seemed to her in some strange sense that he wasn't really there; he just appeared to be there—a tall man in a black coat, out of time and out of place. A distant memory tried to surface from somewhere, one somehow connected to this event, but the three seconds of time that spanned the occasion were over before she could make the connection.

Jack pushed her to the side rapidly, but Jane had already ensured they were out of harm's way. Nora turned and saw her daughter fall back against the doorway and collapse.

_Why like this?_ she wondered hysterically as she ran up the steps to help Jane. The answer came in a confused jumble of thoughts, but after asking the question, everything seemed right to Nora: the chilly evening; the car; the inescapable, approaching accident; her daughter's immense psychokinetic ability; and the appearance of... _Oh my God,_ she thought as she knelt to check on Jane.

Nora jerked her head up and looked across the street as she lifted Jane into her arms. She was checking for the man she had seen amid the confusion, but he was gone. His appearance had seemed terribly surreal to Nora, as he was wearing clothes that made him look as though he had walked straight out of another century.

_Was it him?_ she wondered. Her mind stretched to grasp the exact memory to which she was referring, but there was no time to think about that now. She looked back at her daughter's face and leaned in to listen for breathing. Jane was breathing fine. Nora checked her pulse. Slightly elevated, but okay. Nora was reaching for her phone to call emergency services when she heard a weak voice coming from her daughter's lips.

"Mom," Jane said faintly.

"Oh, thank God you're okay," Nora said shakily.

Jane coughed and sat up as Jack crouched over Nora and looked down at her. Jane swayed a bit and looked as though she wasn't paying attention to either of them. Jack reached out a hand and gently rubbed Jane's cheek with the back of his palm. She glanced at him then, but only for a moment.

"Mom," she said again weakly, staring past them across the street.

"Yes?"

"They'll be coming now."

Nora gasped, realizing that her daughter was correct.

***

Jack called emergency services for the driver, but he really didn't need them; he was merely drunk, and he couldn't remember much of what had happened. He was arrested for drunk driving and taken away in a second police car. The remaining officer looked at the tire marks and the huge arcing circles they had traced in the snow. He then came over to ask Nora about the details. Jane had recovered by that time and gone inside. Jack stayed outside with Nora as she talked to the policeman. She told him that just before the car hit them, the driver swerved to avoid them and lost control of the vehicle. He seemed to accept this.

Although Nora could tell he knew something was out of his reach, she saw him acquiesce, probably knowing that whatever vital piece of information was missing, he would never find it. Thankfully, the road had been dark and silent at the time; nobody else had seen the car "magically" pushed out of their path.

The police officer got the details he needed and stayed on the road a few moments longer, taking notes. Nora went up the steps into the house and closed the door but stayed at the front of the living room, watching from the window. The man walked over to the casing of the light that lay smashed on the ground below him. He stared at it for a good ten seconds with his hands at his sides, tapping a digital device against his leg. He looked up at the light fixture for a moment, then got into his car and drove away, not taking his eyes off their house until the car was fully out of sight.

That night, after Jane had gone to sleep, Nora had a conversation with Jack. After making tea, they sat on stools in Nora's kitchen. Only one small lamp illuminated the room.

"So what now?" Jack asked as Nora took a sip of her tea. She was still trembling slightly.

"I don't know," she responded, looking off to the side. "I'm not sure there's a whole lot we can do." She paused, thinking. "If there's a confrontation...if those people come again... I don't think she'd have a chance at defending herself, or getting away from them, even." Nora looked down at the cup of tea in her hands before returning her gaze to Jack. "One of the men from before, I mean...ten years ago...he was carrying a gun."

Jack's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes, well, it was some kind of projectile weapon. Maybe a tranquilizer gun or a Taser. I don't know. I only recall seeing it afterward. I was too distracted in the moment to really pay attention, but when he knelt down, his coat slipped to the side, and I could see it tucked into a holster on his waist."

"Wow," Jack said, then continued quickly, "and she can't do anything, not if it affects her like that. She can't protect herself."

"No, not yet, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It didn't affect her as badly as the last time. She's kept it stifled all these years, but maybe if it had been allowed to develop properly—taken its natural course—it wouldn't knock her out the way it does now. She was exposed to too much at a young age. I think that's why she reacted so badly at first. But tonight it wasn't nearly as bad. I think with a bit more time she would be able to use it reliably."

"Well, that's great, but we don't have time for that now, do we?" he said with the slightly curt tone of impatience.

"No."

"When will they be here?"

She considered this. "The last time, they were here within three days. Who knows what's changed since then, though?"

Jack lifted his cup and drank. Nora was glad that he was taking such an active role. She could tell he was secretly marveling at what he had witnessed, but he was ignoring those feelings for the moment so that he could focus on the real difficulty she would soon face. She was grateful to him for that.

"We'll have to go somewhere. I'll come with you," he said, his eyes suddenly glowing with a new urgency.

"Yes, but where?"

He stared back at her and nodded his head slowly.

She glared at him. "We can't go anywhere official, Jack, not like a hotel. These people—whoever they are—have had ten years to work on this. They'd find us too easily." She put her hand to her face and rubbed her eyes forcefully, then looked off to the side again, thinking. Finally, the light came back into her eyes as she looked at him. "The cabin in Wexford. I've been thinking about it lately. I don't think there's any trail that points there. We've always paid in cash." She thought about this and remembered why. "It was the man who owns the park; he's elderly. He always asked for cash for some reason, so there's no direct connection. It's quiet, and the park will be empty this time of year."

"Okay. That sounds good to me," he said as he watched her from confident-yet-weary eyes. "This will work, okay? I'll go home and get some supplies. You get some rest, and we'll pack the car in the morning and go. Do you have to make arrangements with work?"

"I'll just quit." Jack glared at her. "Well, you know, I've been waiting for a reason to leave anyway. This will do just fine. Besides, if she does get taken, I'll have to..."

Jack held up a hand. "Don't say that," he said. The serious tone in his voice was palpable, as though it were an invisible shield.

"Okay," she responded, and pressed her lips together, nodding slightly and holding back a single tear.

He kissed her on the cheek and walked to the front door. He turned around and said, "See you tomorrow," then closed the door behind him.

Nora sat at the kitchen counter in the dim light drinking tea for a while after he had left. For some time, she couldn't really think. Then the thoughts came through her like a torrent—words like _telepathy_ , _psychokinesis_ , _precognition_ , words she didn't really want to know.

She managed to put these thoughts aside and began to pace the downstairs of their home. She tried to go through a checklist of things she would need to bring, but she found her thoughts constantly wandering. When her mind would not stop, she sat on the sofa and asked herself, _Okay, Nora, what is it?_

After a moment of consideration, the thing she had been avoiding rose into her mind. First, there had been a man standing on the other side of the road. It hadn't seemed to her like a physical presence, but a presence nonetheless. He appeared amid the confusion, and she had been only dimly aware of him at the time. He was tall and wearing a long black coat wrapped tightly around his body. His gaze had pierced the scene with an odd air of authority even though he did nothing but stand and watch the event unfold.

Was this the man her daughter had referred to all those years ago when they had sat up drinking tea? ( _Or was it cocoa?)_ Then her brow furrowed; such details seemed stupidly beyond her at that moment. She wondered if he would be there to help them again. Was the specter of this person real? Or did his return signal something outside her ability to grasp?

With that concern off her mind, Nora returned to mentally checking off a list of things to bring to the cabin. But there was still something else. It was something her daughter had said to her all those years ago in that strange, late-night conversation when the trauma of the crash was still ever-present: _We won't be able to get away_.

Her daughter's words echoed to her from the past like a beacon from a forgotten land. She did her best to ignore them; either way, they had to try.
CHAPTER 8 - ESCAPE

CHAPTER 8

ESCAPE

Jane woke early the next morning with a slight pain in her forehead. The pain was the last thing on her mind. The familiar feeling of guilt was there, lingering inside her like an unwelcome guest. It was worse than it had been before, when she had just been testing herself with books and coffee cups. It was a feeling she couldn't understand, and she vowed that she wouldn't use the power again to that extent unless her life was in peril. Every time she did, that same image of the teddy bear—a simple child's toy—falling from behind her rose into her mind unbidden. Its image would then haunt her.

There was something else. On the road, just before she had used the power, she had seen _him,_ and he had seemed just as unusual as she remembered from the dream.

She knew her mother and Jack had been talking, as she had listened to some of their conversation from upstairs; she knew they were planning to go to the cabin in Wexford.

She looked at her clock. It was five a.m. She tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. Instead she got up, dressed, and quietly left the house. She crossed her street and entered the grounds of the local park. She took a side road that led to a beautiful walkway through a forest surrounding the back of the grounds. She pulled her collar around her neck despite the still morning air and walked through the gate towards the long road.

When she reached the clearing that led to the road, she paused as a slight wave of dizziness came over her. Her stomach churned a little, and she put her hand to her head and looked forward. The road was a flat, straight surface illuminated only by orange streetlamps overhead. The branches of the bare trees reached out on either side like vines and met in the center. In the dim winter light, she felt a fearful tremor run through her, but she ignored this; the need for clear air overcame her desire to return home.

She walked down the small road, heading towards the walkway that went through the woods. However, as she got closer, the feeling overcame her again, stronger this time, and the space around her seemed to warp slightly, as though it were a thick liquid disturbed. She put her hand to her forehead again.

Ahead of her now, fifty feet away, somebody stood on the road: Max. Against the perfectly normal backdrop, he seemed incredibly strange and out of place. He was wearing the clothes he had worn on the footpath the evening before; they were similar to what he had been wearing during the dream of her youth. She gasped when she saw him, but she did not move. He began to walk towards her slowly. Around her, the air seemed to move with a strange, silent vibration.

_Max?_ she said in her mind.

_Yes?_ he replied.

_Why is this..._ She struggled to find the words as her head swam with strange thoughts.

_Why is it so difficult to communicate?_ he asked, finishing the question she had been looking for.

_Yes._ She breathed deeply and relaxed, as she could once again detect his entirely benign demeanor.

_We haven't communicated like this before. It will take your mind some time to adjust, but don't worry, it won't take long._

Indeed, Jane was slowly beginning to feel the effect wearing off as the world settled around her once again. She straightened her posture and looked at him. The long black coat stretched to his feet and moved around him as he walked towards her, but he cast no shadow on the ground. His face was exactly as she remembered it: clean, bright and angular. He smiled at her as he walked towards her, and she felt at peace.

_I remember now that we used to talk in dreams._

_Yes, but I see no need for that anymore. You are older now...your understanding of things is better...and I...I don't care about breaking the rules anymore._

_Rules?_

He paused. _It's complicated, Jane. I'll tell you another time when we have the opportunity._ The wind picked up slightly, and the branches creaked around her in response. Max continued to walk towards her. _The man who came to your house ten years ago is coming back in response to the incident involving the car. You have to leave as soon as possible. I'll create a distraction for them to give you time to get away, but it may not work._

_Should we still go to the cabin in Wexford?_

_Yes. It's the best chance you have to evade them._

_When will they be here?_

_In two hours. Their plane is landing shortly. They'll come straight to your house. Like I said, I'll create a distraction._

_How will you do that?_

_They have technology with them that can detect psionic energy. I'll create a disruption nearby, and hopefully they'll be curious enough to pursue that first._

_Okay_.

He stopped walking when he was twenty feet from her. His presence against the dim, wintry backdrop was truly spectacular—a looming, illusory figment, but in some way, very real nonetheless. She had only moments to take it in before he spoke again.

_You don't have time to wait, Jane. You should be going now._

_Okay. Will I see you again?_

_Yes, most definitely. Go._

Then there was a slight swish of air, and the space he occupied was suddenly empty. For just a second there seemed to be a minute trace of smoke where he had been standing, but then it was gone. Jane looked around her, but there was nothing to see except bare trees and a barren, dark-gray sky. She turned and began running back to her house.

***

"How did they get here so fast?" Nora asked after Jane had woken her and described what had happened. Jane didn't go into any detail about Max because she didn't think it appropriate or fair to drop that kind of information on her mother without warning. She simply said that he had given her the information.

"I don't know. They've had ten years to work on this."

Nora's cell phone rang and they both jumped. Nora looked at it and said, "Jack." She picked it up and began to make plans with her friend as Jane went to her room to pack.

Ten minutes later they were in the car and moving. Nora had arranged to meet Jack at a service station on the way. They met with him shortly after, and he transferred some supplies: gas, candles, and food. He insisted on driving, so Nora sat in the passenger seat.

Jane kept details about Max's appearance scant as Jack probed the subject gently. It didn't seem right to go into detail for some reason, and Nora exchanged a knowing glance with her in the rearview mirror, nodding to her as Jack asked questions and Jane evaded them.

A short while later the three had fallen into a silence. Jane was nodding off in the backseat. After a time, in the distant recesses of her mind where the ethereal energy secretly glowed, she heard a dim _boom_. She sat up abrubtly, looking around her. She knew it had been Max. That had been the distraction he had referred to, and she had detected it. Somewhere, out in the world of the psychic, Max had created a colossal psychic effect to attract the attention of her trackers. She hoped it would prove effective.

***

Two hours later, they arrived at the park. The main entrance was closed for winter, and they thought it best not to draw attention to themselves by breaking the chain with the bolt cutters that Jack had brought. They parked their car farther up from the entrance, concealed as well as possible by trees and bushes. A farther two hundred feet down the dirt trail was the beach.

Jane stepped out of the car and experienced a moment of nostalgic bliss as the smell and sound of the sea consumed her senses entirely. The cold air was slightly damp and laden with the scent of salt that proved purifying to her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. All she wanted to do was go down to the water and sit in front of it with her legs drawn beneath her. There had been days in her youth when the scents and sounds of that sea had cured immense heartaches, but there was no time for that now.

They took their supplies and walked the few hundred feet to the cabin. When they reached it, Jack set up everything inside. They had the gas connected straight away, and Nora turned on the fire. There was no electricity in the park at this time of year, so she placed candles around the interior, preparing for the dark. None of them would speak about the danger from which they were running and protecting Jane.

When night came, Jane went out to look at the stars, but they were clouded over. The trees blew in a gentle breeze in the distance, and her cold breath danced in front of her before it disappeared. Jane thought about Max, how he had shown up in her life again without warning and then just as quickly disappeared. Every time she thought about him, a shiver went through her. She wondered about the faculty that allowed her to see him. She suspected that her mother or Jack would probably not be able to see him at all, or, if they could, it would be difficult for them.

She went back inside a few moments later, having had enough of the cold. She saw that Jack was already asleep on the sofa, having elected to stay outside and keep watch. _For what, though?_ Jane wondered in a weary fashion. What did this man Lucas want with her? What was he planning to do? Even after ten years of intermittent wondering, she still didn't know. She walked down the length of the cabin to her room and got into bed, pulling the covers over her. Even though it was freezing, she drifted off relatively easily into a restless sleep.

***

Jack woke at seven the next morning, having gotten five hours of sleep. There were crows crying in the near distance, and strange, unfamiliar country sounds surrounded his aural field. He breathed deeply and felt the cold air fill his lungs like tiny ice crystals; it seemed to freeze his mind. He was fully awake almost immediately and sat straight up. Clearly, the cabins were not meant to be used in the winter.

"Damn," he said under his breath as he reached up a hand and rubbed his eyes. He instantly thought of Jane and Nora in their bedrooms and decided to check on them.

He was about to move when he heard the sound of voices, authoritative tones speaking in the distance. He felt his heart beat faster. He sat up slowly and looked out through the corner of the netted curtains. In the dim light of dawn he saw three men in suits approach from the other side of the field. They were two hundred feet away, and they looked completely out of place against the backdrop of short green grass and the brown mahogany of the cabins. He jumped up and ran down to the bedrooms, alerting Jane and Nora of the men's presence.

"They're here! They're here!" he said with just enough volume to wake them.

Without hesitation, the two got up and began getting ready.

"Where are they?" Nora asked.

"They're up the field. They'll be here in a moment. I'll distract them. Jane, you go right now—out the back. You know what to do."

She nodded at him, and he watched as she and Nora proceeded to the back entrance. Then he turned and walked back up the length of the thirty-foot cabin. As he approached the double door at the entrance, the creak of every footstep cast loud echoes around the cold, small interior.

He laced up his boots, stood, and braced himself for the coming encounter. He waited in front of the window of the doorframe for a moment and watched them walk directly towards him. Then he stepped onto the porch. They stopped approximately twenty feet in front of him. The man who stood at the center was tall and well built. In his eyes Jack was troubled to see a devastatingly clear awareness. The two men who stood behind him looked at each other for direction, clearly not expecting such a direct encounter.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked them from across the distance. He spoke loudly, but his voice was strangely muted in the morning mist. The man in the center, whom he could only presume was Lucas, stepped forward. He was wearing a long trench coat with a suit underneath it. His eyes darted to the right and left as he gauged the situation.

"We're looking for someone by the name of Jane Connor. I presume you're Jack? Do you know where she is?"

"How do you know who I am?" Jack asked flatly.

The man's head tilted to one side. "Where is she?"

Jack didn't falter. He moved off the steps and walked out to meet them, stopping five feet in front of Lucas, taking him in. Jack guessed the man was about two hundred pounds. He was athletic too, and Jack had the brief thought that he wouldn't like to be chased by him. Still, he stared into the man's eyes and didn't flinch.

"I'm afraid I don't have the information you're seeking," he said without remorse. Then he pursed his lips into a mocking, lopsided smile; the conversation was over.

Lucas exhaled and reached under his jacket into a holster around his waist. He pulled out his hand, which was holding what looked to Jack like an advanced kind of Taser. It was blue, metallic, and serious-looking. Although Jack had never seen such a weapon in plain sight, he thought it looked bigger than a standard firearm. Lucas checked a setting on the weapon, then dropped his arm to his side.

"Do whatever you want. We'll find her," he said, then nodded behind him to his two lieutenants. They separated immediately, one heading for the entrance on the right of Jack, the other heading to his left around the back of the cabin. Jack turned and watched as their figures faded into the dim morning mist. Then he turned back around and returned Lucas's gaze for a few more moments, never faltering. After a moment, he heard the motorcycle engine kick into life, and the pursed smile reappeared on his face as he heard it scramble away. Lucas's eyes darted towards the sound, then his teeth came together audibly as realization spread across his face. The other men ran from behind the other side of the cabin.

"She got away on a motorcycle," one of them said, slightly out of breath. Jack looked down and saw Lucas's fist clench; he half-expected Lucas to punch the man. He resisted, though, and then the three of them got into the car.

"Have a nice day," Lucas said just before he closed the door. They swerved the car around dramatically and raced up the field, leaving giant muddy tire tracks in the thin winter grass. Jack could still hear the sound of the motorcycle engine as it slowly faded into the distance. He exhaled as Nora walked behind him with tears in her eyes. He extended his arm and she ducked under it, placing her face against his chest.

"They're going to get her, Jack."

"Maybe not. She's fast."

***

Jane kicked the start switch on the cycle and heard the engine roar to life just as one of the men came around the back of the cabin, ten feet behind her mother. She was a farther fifty feet from them across the field, with an open stretch of grass in front of her leading along the back end of the park towards the entrance. Jane locked eyes with him for a second. A surge of defiance went through her as she pulled back the throttle and raced away.

It was a one-hundred-and-twenty-cc bike that her father had owned years ago. Somehow it still functioned, and Jack had performed the few necessary adjustments to make sure she would be safe on it. She had no helmet, and she knew riding without one was dangerous, but she had practiced enough in the intervening years to know how to ride safely; she had to take the risk.

She scrambled up the park, her heart racing, her blonde hair trailing behind her, a look of defiance on her face. As she looked at the ground that sped below her, she realized she had never suspected it would come to this. She had watched Jack work on the cycle the night before, thinking he was wasting his energy. How wrong she had been.

She was seventy feet from the clearing that led to the main road and the beach when she crossed over the gravel road cutting through the center of the park. The bike crossed a ramp and she managed to stay on it as it bounced down on the earth below. As she leveled the bike and faced the clearing between two brown cabins ahead, she heard the car behind her. She looked back in time to see them ram two plastic containers meant for use as bins. They flew into the air in an explosive fashion. A wave of shock went through her, and her teeth rattled as she turned back around, increasing her acceleration.

She reached the clearing and pulled a hard right, managing to stay upright on the bike. Seconds later, she made the main entrance and smiled when she saw that Lucas had cut the lock on the main gate; it was now wide open. She flew out through the gate and took another sharp turn, this time to the left. The bike skidded slightly on the loose gravel beneath her. One final turn and she would be on the dirt road to the beach.

When she made it there, she pulled the throttle as far as it would go. The wind blasted her face as the countryside swept past her in the dim morning light. Her teeth began to chatter in the cold, but she was only barely aware of this. Somewhere, distantly in her mind, in a place she didn't visit often, she could feel _him_ coming again. She could feel the whisperings of his thoughts murmur gently across hers in that strange, telepathic communication she had never really gotten used to. Still, she found herself incredibly excited that she would see him again.

She reached the top of the beach and pushed the bike into a stretch of bushes on her right, concealing it as best as she could. Then she was running, probably faster than she had ever run in her life. She jumped an eight-foot drop from the nearest dune and landed on the slanted beach, nearly losing her balance and tumbling, but managing to stay upright. She raced down the dune and out to the shore where the waves were breaking and the sand was harder. She had a good grip there, and she sprinted down the beach, not knowing where she was going but determined to escape at all costs or hide.

She ran until she was exhausted and the cold wind burned her lungs. When she couldn't run anymore, she stopped, waited, and breathed. The wind was freezing and the sun was coming up on the horizon. It was a red hemispherical disc, and it cast an unusual luminescent glow on the water. At any other time, it would have been surreal and beautiful. Now it seemed almost ominous. She hoped they would not find her.

They did.

A few minutes later she saw the three figures emerge at the top of the dune nearest the edge of the rocks. They saw her in the distance and they ran down the dune in her direction. She was sure she was too tired to run again, but somehow she found the strength. She turned and looked to the right. She was standing next to the highest point in the dunes, and she ran in that direction with her heart racing and her legs hurting, lactic acid filling every muscle in her body.

She had the impulse to look to her left, and when she did, she saw a thin, dark figure in the distance, perhaps three hundred feet away, standing in the line where the water met the sand, looking almost like a mirage. It was him: the man who had so far protected her, but in what seemed like only limited, distant ways.

_Yes, it's me. Keep running, Jane. They're not going to stop, so you shouldn't._

_Yes, but what am I supposed to do?_

There was hesitation.

_I don't know. But don't worry. We'll work through this together, just keep going._

_Okay,_ she replied. She reached the top of the dune and looked behind her. Lucas was starting up the dune behind her, only fifty feet away. The other two men were not as athletic and had fallen behind. Jane could see the metallic, sophisticated-looking weapon he held in his hand. This gave her the last jolt she needed to turn and run again.

She ran across the top of the dunes where the grass and dirt was hard, not knowing where her strength came from. She glanced behind and saw him striding towards her. _He is built for this,_ she thought. She was running up the top of one of the tallest dunes when she found herself getting desperate. She reached the top and looked at the vast sea in front of her. She searched for Max and found him quickly, once again in the distance, looking at her. She reached out for him with her thoughts, a faculty she had not been accustomed to using until recently. Now circumstances were pushing her to use these abilities in new and unexpected ways.

_Max, what do I do? Help me!_

_You have to fight him, Jane. It's the only chance you've got to get away. Scan the area for something you can use as a weapon._

She was about to protest, but realized there was no point; she knew what Max had said was true, so she turned to the sand below her and reached out with her thoughts, passing them over the ground as one would run a hand over some intricate pattern. Her mind passed over freezing cold, damp sand and pieces of rock. The taste and smell of sea salt filled her senses as her mind ran over the frigid surface.

_Too small,_ she thought as her mind grasped at one piece of rock. _No good._ A chunk of glass came next. _No, too dangerous_. He was coming up behind her. She could hear his heavy footfalls in the sand coming down like tree trunks. The sound of his ragged breathing rose up in the background. He was only twenty-five feet away now and was starting to slow down. She didn't need to look around to see him aiming his weapon at her; the image flashed inside her mind.

She turned and looked in his eyes, her blonde hair blowing around her. That surge of anger and defiance returned and showed on her face. He seemed shocked by what he saw. She kept scanning the ground with her mind in the background, desperately looking for something she could use. She was aware somehow of Max watching them intently, a distant third party who seemed to be only a witness at this time.

"Jane, you're coming with us whether you want to or not."

"Come where? Why? What the hell are you talking about?" she yelled, stalling him, still scanning the sand below.

"You have to be contained."

"Why?"

"Because you've demonstrated extreme ethereal ability, and you used it to endanger a civilian."

"You're lying," she said flatly, shifting her position on the sand as she stared into his eyes.

This seemed to give him pause. His stance grew solid then, and he planted his feet firmly on the ground. He raised the weapon higher, aiming it directly at her torso.

"Don't move!" he yelled.

She glared at him. She needed only a couple more seconds to find the right weapon in the sand below. Her heart was beating fast, and all of her psychic sense, which before she had very much blocked out, was coming online. Images and understandings about this man flooded her mind. There were reflected images of things she didn't want to know about him—things she didn't want to see. But there was something lurking just beneath the surface, something big.

She hesitated, still scanning the ground below her, because she knew instinctively that this thing near the surface of his mind was important. It was beneath the basic thoughts, hidden, but not well—something he took out and thought about frequently. She had only seconds to look. She couldn't discern what it was, but she had the vague impression that it was connected to her. A gasp escaped her lips as this realization came into her mind.

She pushed the images aside as she found what she was looking for: a dull, hard object just under two feet long. She knew exactly what it was the second after her mind had discovered it: a brick from one of the houses that had collapsed nearby due to erosion. Her mind tugged on the brick. _Gently_ , she thought, and she felt it respond to her will. Her cells began to light up with that same feeling she had experienced on her doorstep. She pushed herself harder, moving the brick off the sand.

She turned and jumped the six-foot drop onto the dune below her. She heard him yell "Damn" behind her, but she was too focused on the brick to pay him any further attention.

_Good, Jane, now lift it!_ she heard Max say clearly.

She did exactly what Max said. She focused on the brick as she ran down the dune. The surge of defiance she felt became a beam of power. The block rose in front of her, obeying her mind. Sand fell from it like a waterfall. She ran past the block as it rose upward; she raised her hand, directing it towards Lucas. The block flew through the air, and she heard and felt a dull _thud_ as it hit his shoulder hard. She heard Lucas shout and collapse on the sand behind her.

She stopped and felt the power completely drain from her body as she turned around rapidly.

_Did I hurt him? Is he okay?_ she asked, calling out to Max.

_No. You didn't hurt him, he's just stunned—a minor injury. He'll be okay, I promise. KEEP GOING,_ she heard Max say.

Her instinct was to check on Lucas, but she pulled herself away from the scene and began running again. She reached the shore a moment later. Once there, she ran parallel to the dunes where the thin film of water washed around her feet. The surface was flat, and she had good traction there as she sprinted onward. Max hovered in front of her, floating about ten feet above the water and one hundred feet ahead of her. His image was the only thing that kept her moving as lactic acid sent screaming sirens from the muscles in her body, begging her to stop. Her lungs burned with each gasp of cold sea air, and the sound of her deep footfalls on the tough sand echoed dimly back to her.

She risked one look behind her and saw the two other men attending to Lucas as the dune slipped out of sight around the corner of another embankment. The men were picking him up by his arms. She felt a pang of regret, but it faded quickly as one of the men looked out towards her.

She turned back around and kept running. A few minutes later, she was out of their sight. Her mind finally started to relax. The sun, now a glowing orange disc, cast spectral dances over the small, gentle waves. Suddenly it was beautiful to her and no longer foreboding and ominous. The cold January wind blew at her face; it was no longer distracting, but refreshing.

"Can I slow down yet?"

_Yes, you should. You're going to need your strength._

Max was moving towards her across the water with his coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. She slowed to a light jogging pace, but when she found even that too much, she resorted to walking. After a few more minutes, she stopped and leaned over, placing her hands on her knees and gasping for breath. She rubbed her sleeve across her face and saw a pair of feet in front of her. She looked up and saw Max standing a few feet away.

At first she didn't know what to say to him. Then she simply said, "Thanks."

_You don't have to speak aloud if you don't wish to. I can hear you telepathically._

She smiled at him and replied, "Oh, yes. Thanks for the reminder." She laughed at the idea of discussing such a thing so casually, but then the laughter felt like thorns in her throat, and she began to cough.

He stood in front of her as she held her stomach, breathing deeply. Gradually she began to regain her strength and looked up at him. He smiled at her. He appeared young now—younger than she could remember seeing him before. In the strange, otherworldly garden from the dream of her youth, he had appeared older. Now he seemed to be in his mid-to late twenties and he had the twinkle of youth in his eyes.

_Can we move ahead now, Jane? Are you strong enough?_

"Yes," she said aloud as she began to walk beside him. She looked at him and smiled. "Sorry, I think it's going to take a while for me to get used to that."

"That's okay. We can talk aloud if you wish. Although it may be better for you to exercise your telepathic ability somewhat. That, and your psychokinetic ability."

"Why, you think I'm going to need it?"

He paused before answering. "Yes, it looks as though you probably will," he said after a moment, during which he looked out at the sea, its waves producing overlapping golden crescent arcs among the wash of white foam.

"Are things going to get worse than this, Max?"

He looked down and regarded her with a still expression. Then his gaze drifted slowly to the sand below them. "Yes," he replied after a moment. They continued walking with the sun casting a long shadow of her figure across the beach to her right. Max did not have a shadow, Jane noticed. It gave the dim morning scene a strange and surreal quality. She was exhausted, and adrenaline still ran through her body, but for the first time in a while she felt _alive_.

"Okay. Well, I want to know about that, but where should we go? I don't think they're going to wait too long to come looking for me."

"No." He stopped then and Jane stopped alongside him. He looked in front and then to the side, scanning the area. "Is there a place nearby we can go? Somewhere that's safe?"

"Yes, I know some places, but they're all at least three miles away. It will take us an hour to get there." She looked down then, realizing she hadn't made plans to reconnect with her mother if she managed to avoid being captured.

"You didn't tell your mother where to meet you. Is that correct?"

She looked at him. "We didn't think about that. We were just rushing to get away." There was a silence between them as Max seemed to consider this. Jane reached for the small cell phone in her pocket and was about to use it to contact her mother when Max held up his hand.

"No. No technology, Jane. They'll be able to track it."

Her brow furrowed, though instead of using the phone she held it in her palm and looked at him for guidance.

"Throw it in the sea," he said flatly. She did what he asked. "I'll contact her if necessary."

"Okay," Jane said. "I think if we go about another mile across the beach, we can get on a road that will take us to the village."

"Okay then, let's go," he said, and they continued on again.

Jane had been thinking more and more about Max and his nature, linking him to various things she had read throughout the years. She found it odd and perhaps mildly frustrating that they were still walking. She was half expecting that he would have power over the physical world; that he would be able to do more than just guide her.

"Max, why are we walking? I mean, you seem perfectly capable of moving through the world as you wish. Why can't we teleport like that?"

"Because I am not exactly moving through space. This form you see is not physical in nature. I can't interact with the physical world like that very much at all."

"How come?"

"Because I'm not mortal. Interacting with the physical world would require abiding by the rules of mortality: the cycle of life and death and all that that entails."

She thought about this and found that it made sense to her. "Can you...become human?" she asked. A strange sense of nostalgia filled her mind. "Didn't you tell me once...in those dreams, about your life as a human?"

"Yes. I had a human life once. It was wonderful, but also sad."

"Why was it sad?" She saw his face change as he hesitated. There was a brief flicker and new lines seemed to appear. Then they were gone again.

"It was a long time ago. I'll tell you some other time," he said, and smiled.

"Okay," she said. She found herself suddenly desperate to know what had happened to him and everything else about him. When had he lived? What had his life been like? Who had he loved? She looked up at him and saw him looking towards the sky, smiling.

"I can feel your questioning mind, Jane," he said.

A strange thought crossed her mind and was gone just as quickly as it had arrived: _You might never really know much about him._

Before they continued further, he told her to take a pocketful of sand. Although she found the request odd, she did so. She reached down and picked up a big handful, filling her right pocket with it. Then they walked on in the morning light. It was still freezing cold, but Jane felt exceedingly warm standing next to him.
CHAPTER 9 - THE PRESENCE

CHAPTER 9

THE PRESENCE

They reached the road and walked past farmland with a thin layer of grass covered in frost. Mist lay across the ground in hazy sheets. Jane wrapped her coat around her tightly as the icy chill prickled every inch of her skin. She kept her mouth closed to keep her teeth from chattering. Less than an hour later, after walking over sand dunes and across country roads only distantly familiar to her, they reached the village.

It was early in the morning, and the village was empty. It was just a crossroads with two pubs, several shops, a guesthouse, and a small hotel. Jane reached the center and thought about where to go. It had been a long time since she had actually been in the village. She turned and looked at the four roads she was presented with, weighing her options.

The one she had come down led directly back to the beach. The one to the left led back to the site where she had left Jack and her mother, but that was at least a four-mile walk. The one to the right led to the beach again, but in a different direction. She had a memory of walking through fields of hay in beautiful sunlit gardens as a child. Endless fields of yellow had stretched before her then. She recalled now that this land was part of a plot belonging to a guest house. She started walking in that direction instinctively, then noticed that Max was no longer walking beside her. She looked around for him.

"Max? Are you still there?" she asked, turning her head.

_Yes, I've just moved my presence elsewhere for a moment, Jane._

"Okay," she replied hesitantly. It was disconcerting to have her only companion on this journey disappear. It felt worse that it was _he_ who was disappearing. She was very aware of the fact that she was growing accustomed to his presence at an alarmingly fast rate.

Jane walked up the road that led to the field she remembered from her youth. She thought she had been with her father at the time. For some reason, thinking of her father made her think of Max. She thought this was odd and pushed the thought aside. She walked past stone walls and the bare trees of winter, keeping her hands in her pockets to stay warm. No cars passed her. The road was empty, and the area itself was completely desolate. After a few hundred yards, she reached the red iron gate and the stone road that led to the guest house.

Jane walked through the gate and stopped. Straight ahead was a small road filled with gravel. It sported patches of grass and looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. She could see only a corner of the yellow house peering from behind a tree at the end of the road, perhaps two hundred feet away. To her right was a green area about fifty feet wide. It was filled with trees and stretched all the way to the guest house, where it stopped and gave way to a large, circular gravel driveway. In the summer, it would be beautiful here; she had a brief recollection of standing under a canopy of swaying green leaves. She began to descend the gravel road.

To her left Jane saw the fields she remembered from when she was young. They were barren now, though, and would be until summer. Beyond that, the fields sloped down, then upward again. Even farther beyond was the dark sea. The now-orange sun glared from behind grayish-white clouds that partially obscured it; the sun did not provide much illumination for the fields below it.

She walked down the gravel pathway and noticed that Max was walking alongside her once again. "Where did you go?" she asked.

"I didn't think it would be wise to walk with you through the village," he replied.

"I didn't think other people could see you."

"Most of them can't, but some people can, and it could raise alarm bells that we don't want right now. The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves. I don't exactly...fit in."

"Right," she replied with a half-smile. They approached the house. Jane could see that it was abandoned, at least partly. It was certainly no longer a guest house. The yellow paint on the front of the house was chipped and filthy. There was a very old rusted car, beyond use or repair, parked in one corner of the driveway. There were planks of wood nailed over the door, and some of the windows upstairs had been boarded up. Jane looked at these and quivered. She wrapped her thin denim jacket around herself more tightly.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else, Max."

"No. This is better, Jane. They'll search any official places in the area first. They'd find you without any difficulty." He looked over at the door as they approached it.

The gravel crunched beneath Jane's feet, but she could not detect the same sound from beneath his.

"Can you break off those wooden planks?" he asked.

"I think so," she said hesitantly, and began to walk towards them.

"Not with your mind, Jane. You'll have to use your hands for this."

"Why?" she asked, looking back at him. The relief in her voice was clear. She had no desire to use those abilities again anytime soon.

"Because they're too close to us. They could detect it. We can pass under their awareness if we keep a low profile for a while, but they have sophisticated tracking equipment. A psionic force like that would register for certain. They may even be able to track me. I'm not sure."

"You mean you're emitting this energy? Whatever it is—whatever the pattern registers as?"

"Yes. My presence here will register on their devices as a spike—although quite small—and they might recognize a pattern after a while, so we need to be careful."

Jane sighed, turned around, and walked up to the house. She reached her fingers behind one of the planks of wood and pulled. It snapped in two with just a little pressure. The remaining pieces pulled away quite easily as well. She tried the doorknob, which had been obscured by the rotting wood. She pushed, but it wouldn't budge. She threw her weight against the door, but, despite the years of decay, it was solid beneath her body.

She looked back to Max and dusted off her hands. He was standing a few feet away with his hands crossed behind his back. He looked to the side in the direction of the sea and walked towards the back of the house, his footsteps still soundless on the gravel below. She followed him. At the back of the house, the windows were not boarded up.

"Here, use these," he said, pointing towards the ground. There were large stones among the overgrown flower beds below.

She reached down and picked up one of the stones. "You want me to break the window?" she asked.

"Yes. But don't throw it. Use it to impact the glass until it's completely removed. Whatever you do, Jane, don't injure yourself. That's the last thing we need right now."

She did as he said and wrapped her hand in the sleeve of her denim jacket. She approached the window and began to break through the glass with the rock. It shattered into pieces with the initial force. Eighty percent of it fell either to the ground outside or on the floor inside. Jane leapt backward at the crashing sound and listened as it echoed across the freezing countryside. She noticed Max was smiling at her.

"Yes, Max, that's very funny, isn't it?" she said in an ironic tone.

"Shall we proceed with the breaking of the glass?" he said, smiling even more.

Now she couldn't help but smile back at him. _He's got a sense of humor_ , she thought. _Good_. She thrashed the remainder of the glass with the stone until only a few small splinters jutted above the border. These were small and impossible to remove, so she cast the stone to the ground.

She looked inside now and saw a large room divided into two sections by a square arch that framed the center. It stretched all the way from the back to the front of the house. There was an old-fashioned chandelier on the ceiling and a stained, old white sofa in the front section of the room.

"Should I go inside?"

"Yes, we can light a fire in there. It's too cold out here for you. Take off your jacket first and put it over the border of the window."

She did so, shivering as she removed the blue denim garment. She had only a thin sweatshirt underneath. They hadn't, in their planning, thought of getting warmer clothes; they hadn't thought far enough ahead to consider something like this. The cold felt like a freezing, wet blanket had been wrapped around her body, so she hurriedly placed her hands over her coat and jumped over as quickly as she could.

On the other side, the wood creaked beneath her. She lifted her coat and turned around. She jumped a little as she saw that Max was already inside, standing in front of her with his back turned towards her, looking at the top of the walls of the arch that bordered the ceiling in the center.

"We'll need a fire," he said, walking to the front of the large double room.

"I didn't bring anything to light a fire with."

"It's okay, I'll show you how. We just need some wood."

Her brow furrowed at the inexplicability of this, but she accepted it because it was coming from him.

"We need an incendiary liquid of some kind."

"Okay," she said. "You mean something flammable, like petrol, right?"

"Yes, exactly," he replied.

"I think there's a garage through the trees farther over. Should I check there?"

"No need," he said. There was a swishing sound; as he disappeared from the space in front of her, the same shroud of dark, smoke-like substance appeared. It felt like a tiny gust of wind had been created by his sudden absence, but she thought she may have imagined this. Jane stared at the now-vacant space in front of her in disbelief. A moment later, he reappeared in the exact same place.

"Yes, there are some substances in there that should work," he said.

Her brow furrowed at his lack of understanding about how funny his disappearances seemed to her. She retrieved the petrol without further question.

Back inside, she broke up some old wooden chairs and crumpled up old newspapers she had found around the ground floor of the house. She had absolutely no interest in going upstairs, as the staircase wound upward and around into darkness above. It was also covered with mold and decaying wood, so she stayed on the ground floor. Opening the bottle, Jane carefully poured a generous amount of liquid on the wood and paper in the fireplace.

She put the lid back on the bottle and placed it on the ground outside the broken window as Max had instructed, then braced herself for the thing he had talked to her about, but she didn't feel that she was ready, nor did she feel it wise to try something so unusual. She had never done anything like it before.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"No," she replied honestly. "Can't they detect things like this? I mean, you said—"

"You're just going to create a very small spark; they won't be able to detect that."

What they had discussed as Jane gathered firewood scared her. Max wanted her to spark the liquid herself, with her thoughts. She felt that _literally_ playing with fire was a bad idea.

"You can't sit here in the cold, Jane," he said.

"Okay, okay, how do I do it?"

"Focus on the fuel first," he said.

She gazed at the fireplace.

"You need to reach out with your mind and feel the basic substance first, then go further to the atomic level."

She did as he asked and found that, with concentration, she could feel the liquid as it dripped over the wood. It was enmeshed within the paper. As she stared at it, her thoughts draped over it like a veil of gossamer. Then she found that she was going right through it, into the substances that composed it.

"Do you have it?"

"Yes," she replied. It was unknown to her that her brainwave pattern had already altered significantly.

"It's easy now, just—"

But Jane didn't need any more instruction. She could see the molecules, and she knew how to create an incendiary reaction in them. She willed them to move, just a small push, and they began to vibrate. Then she pushed harder, and the molecules moved faster with her will. After a moment, she could see the eternal mass swirl in front of her vision. She watched as the flame burst into the room around her.

Max was cut off as the fireplace exploded into light and heat. Dramatic shadows were cast all over the room, throwing light on every corner and every dark crevice, showing just how dilapidated the house really was.

"Jane, that's enough—pull your thoughts back in," he said in a warning tone.

To Jane, though, it sounded as though he were far away, shouting from across a field in the distance. She gazed into the fire and suddenly had the urge to test herself. The thought of the power electrified her; that was the thing that caused her to pull her gaze away from the fireplace. She was fearful of herself.

Max stared at her, his concerned eyes revealing that he was just a little perturbed by her quickness. "Just be careful when it's fire. Your psionic ability doesn't really lean in that direction, but still, you'll have to be careful."

She nodded. "Okay." She was sitting on the floor now, with the stained white sofa against her back. She pulled her legs up underneath herself and enjoyed the warmth of the flames. She had forgotten how good it felt to be warm. It was also good to not be as concerned about who might be pursuing her for a while. Plus, she had Max now. She looked over at him.

He was standing next to the large glass window at the side of the room. The window was framed with crosses of wood; circles of dirt and ice had formed around each section of glass. The winter light fell across his face, giving his skin a light, almost translucent appearance. He seemed to change sometimes when she looked at him. Sometimes it appeared as though he was carrying a small cane or staff of some sort. "Scepter" was probably a better word for it. But Jane questioned her own perceptions of this when she saw it, for it seemed to be there only sometimes.

Sometimes he appeared older. At other times, his face seemed to be that of a twenty-five-year-old. Most of the time, he wore a long black coat that didn't appear to belong to her time, or any time in the past that she knew anything about. It sometimes wrapped right across the front of his body and attached to his far right side with golden clasps. The clasps had an ornamental design, like four swirling arms of a galaxy rotating towards the center. They looked to Jane as though they were made of pure gold. The coat reminded Jane of some kind of strange ceremonial outfit—stunningly beautiful and, at the same time, totally out of place. At other times, the coat was more simple—just a regular long black coat, open at the front. Beneath it, Max would be wearing a very ordinary white shirt with a black tie. It occurred to her how little she really knew about this... _man_.

She had been staring at him for a few minutes when she finally asked, "What are you thinking about?"

He looked over at her and his body seemed to shimmer for a brief second. She wasn't even quite sure that it had happened.

He smiled and said, "Just scanning the area. Looking for your mother. She doesn't know where you are."

"Can you find Lucas?"

"No. They have something with them, some kind of device. It's generating a field of some sort that I can't see through...like a blanket."

"That doesn't sound good— I mean, if _you_ can't see through it."

"No," he said, and cast his eyes to the floor as a concerned look came over his face. "It seems they may have an advantage that I wasn't aware of." He looked out the window again and squinted. He appeared to be concentrating tremendously. Jane noticed that his face was contorted just slightly, as though he was holding some other burden.

"Max, is something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

He opened his eyes and turned back to her. He walked away from the window and sat slowly in front of the only other chair in the room. He pulled his legs into a cross-legged position and placed his head back against the armchair. He appeared older once again as his body language and mood changed, as though in the intervening moments he had lived out twenty or thirty years that had grayed his hair and lined his face.

"I shouldn't really be here. I mean, I shouldn't be interfering like this," he said in a weary voice.

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her and hesitated before continuing with his explanation. "I mean, I shouldn't be taking this kind of action in the affairs of your world...by being here with you." He looked at the corner of the room and, in an instant, teleported across the fifteen-foot distance to survey something on the ceiling. "It's not the way things are done. I'm supposed to keep a distance from you, from the affairs of mortals. We—I mean, my kind—we generally interfere only during moments in the historical process that desperately require such interference."

"This isn't one of those moments?"

"No, not quite. But I fear that it's getting to that point. I feel that I have to begin taking action now. There are forces gathering on your world that are dangerous," he said before hesitating again. Then he continued. "The Others will know about my interference soon. I've disguised my efforts here as best as I can, but they'll find out eventually."

Jane wasn't quite sure what he meant. "The Others?" She took a sharp breath as she quickly grasped his meaning, and her understanding of the situation expanded. "You mean, the others of your kind?"

"Yes. Do you remember when you were young, I appeared to you while you were dreaming?"

"Yes."

'Such interference is allowed. Because it can pass for a dream. It can pass for a remnant of the unconscious. It can pass as anything, really. But this..." He gestured to his own body, as though it were an alien vehicle. "This is going to draw a lot of attention."

A number of questions swirled in Jane's mind. She surveyed the room as she thought about what to ask him first. "What are they like, the... _Others_? Why aren't you allowed to interfere?"

"A lot of them don't have too much concern for the existence of individual mortals. That's not to say they don't care; they do, of course. But their work is beyond that."

"What is their work?"

"Assisting entire cultures. Taking part in the historical process of worlds at critical moments. Once, also, astral engineering—of a sort."

"Astral engineering?" she asked.

"Yes. Reshaping the physical universe. Sometimes to make certain sections more amenable to the emergence of life. Sometimes for other reasons."

"Do you do this?"

"No. There are those of us who take a much greater interest in the affairs of mortals. I and some others hold the belief that reality is composed of events, and the smallest decisions and interactions can have cosmic consequences." He turned around and looked at her again; the solemn, elderly face of a wise man was once again facing her.

"You see, we are very old, Jane. I am not as old as the others, but some of them are truly ancient by your standards. They have existed for millennia. They have watched the historical process unfold on other worlds and they have watched some tumble into ruin. A lot of them are tired." He regarded her in silence for a moment. "I really shouldn't be telling you this...should I?"

She recoiled at his question. Why would he be questioning her? She watched as he turned away from her, and she was briefly reminded of the moment in that long-ago dream when she had caught him off guard.

"I want to know. I like knowing about where you come from," she said firmly.

He walked before the fireplace and stood in front of the mirror there. At first there was no reflection at all, but then as he appeared to concentrate, a ghostly image of his form was reflected back from the darkened, stained glass.

"Why did they leave?" she asked. "Some of the others—you said they left."

He turned around and looked down at the floor when she asked this. He seemed to struggle, then looked back up at her and continued.

"The Presence...it stopped communicating with us."

A shiver went through Jane's body. Despite the warmth from the fire, her teeth rattled against each other for just a second.

"The Presence?"

"Yes. The Great Mind."

She stared at him in awe. "Why did it stop communicating?"

"We don't know. Some suspect it lost faith. Some of my kind began to doubt its existence."

"Do you doubt its existence?"

"No, because it communicated with me just barely—almost imperceptibly. I believe it wanted me to come here—to intervene. It indicated that Earth is important."

Then he was silent again. Jane was troubled. She felt as though he had left something out. It took her time to find the courage to ask him. She lifted her gaze from the fireplace at the same time he did. Their eyes met.

"Max...when you said you were worried about other people on my world...that's not the only thing that's bothering you, is it? There's something that you haven't told me about, isn't there?"

She watched as his eyes shifted just slightly and his body shimmered a little. Miniscule ripples cascaded over the surface of his appearance, like the effect one created by dropping a pebble into a pond. She was surprised to see this; she knew then that she had caught him off guard once again.

"There is something. An object...of tremendous importance..." He was about to continue his answer when he seemed to hesitate. Then he disappeared, and Jane heard that same small swish of air around the vacant space he had been occupying. She glanced around to find him standing on the other side of the room, looking outward with his back turned to her.

"They're getting closer," he said in a flat, serious tone.

Jane stood up. "Lucas?" she asked, her tone revealing her desperation at the thought of another round with those men.

"Yes."

"I thought you couldn't see them?"

"I can't. I saw them through the mind of another person. She was walking her dog, and she saw them driving fast on a small road. She had to jump to avoid them." His head turned slowly as he spoke, and Jane's breathing quickened as she listened to the growing sound of alarm in his voice. "I could sense her shock." He turned back around to Jane. Then he looked upward and closed his eyes, appearing to concentrate fiercely. "We can't stay here much longer."

"Will they find us?"

"Yes. In fact, I think they may already have."

"How long do we have?"

"Less than an hour." He looked around again, seeming to drift once more.

He was standing in front of the fireplace. The glow from the fire had diminished somewhat, but the room had brightened with new daylight. Still, something had changed in the room: it was Max. His face betrayed yet another, deeper concern.

"No. I believe I'm mistaken; they're coming down the road now," he said.

And indeed, above the crackling from the fireplace, Jane could hear the faint sound of cars driving across gravel.
CHAPTER 10 - THE LIGHT

CHAPTER 10

THE LIGHT

Jane rushed upstairs as soon as Max told her they were coming. The unstable, moldy wood creaked beneath her feet, and she vaulted up the last few steps onto the second floor. She began to gasp as her gaze darted from room to room, looking for a place to hide. She heard the car pull into the circular driveway outside and glanced in that direction. She turned and looked down the stairs towards the room where they had entered. She could have run for the window first and tried to escape that way, but they probably would have seen her. Still, she thought her best chance of escape was probably beyond her reach; it was too dangerous to risk a run for it.

She turned and saw that Max was standing directly behind her, having teleported onto the staircase.

"What do we do?" she asked, her breathing quickly becoming heavy with panic.

"You hide," he said, and his eyes grew fierce and black. "I'll create a distraction."

The sound of car doors slamming outside reached them. Jane's head darted in that direction for a moment as a gasp escaped her.

"I have to warn you, Jane, the disturbance that I create—it might disrupt my presence in your reality for a moment, but it will give you time to escape, okay?"

"What? What do you mean, escape? I'll _never_ get out of here without you."

"Yes you can, and you will. I will be able to re-enter this spatial vicinity shortly after. Without human form, I only have so much effect over this world—very little in fact—and we're going to get only one chance at this. So you'll need to manage by yourself for a short time, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly. Her heart had begun to beat faster, and she could feel tears threatening to well up in her eyes. She adamantly refused to cry in front of Max, though, and looked to her side. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll stun them."

"How?"

"You'll see it. When I tell you to cover your eyes, _no matter where you are in the house,_ do it, okay? Don't hesitate."

"Yes."

"Then, once it's over, get back out through the window and run as fast as you can towards the wooded area. Don't look back, and don't stop for _any_ reason."

She nodded as she heard the sound of the door breaking below them. She ran past Max into the room at the end of the hallway. She looked around its empty, dank interior as she heard the tentative footsteps of the men entering the house below her. She stood behind the door and waited.

After a moment, she risked one look around the door and saw Max standing on the landing, looking down at the men as they circled the large open hallway in the center of the house. His eyes were dark and his expression was venomous. She had not yet seen him wear an expression so fierce. She sank back behind the door and made herself as small as possible.

Lucas kicked down the main door of the house and went inside. This time, he had opted for a sophisticated tranquilizer weapon which he held to his side. The readings of psychic emanations from this location had initially fooled them, and the men had disregarded them because they had been so small. But after a while, the pattern was clear and undeniable, and had led them straight to this old house. In his logical mind, Lucas doubted that they would find anything here—it would prove to be some kind of stray reading—but his subordinates insisted that it could be something significant, so he agreed, reluctantly, to investigate. He had received rudimentary treatment for the injury to his shoulder, but a dull pain still throbbed there. He knew that he would have to make adjustments to his aim.

He entered the main hallway and saw that it was large and cavernous. He breathed in the scents of rotting wood, dust, and molding carpet, as well as other damp, stale odors. He looked at the landing above them and saw that it was empty. His two lieutenants were now coming in behind him, and he gestured for them to check both the left and right sections of the house.

As he looked back up to the landing, in his peripheral vision he thought he saw a vague, shadowy presence looking down at him. But as he whipped his head around and focused, he saw that the space was vacant; it was just an empty hallway that stretched in either direction and led to various rooms. He turned to face the central room in the house, which was on his left, when he heard a floorboard creak above him. He stopped, motionless, and held his breath.

He turned slowly then and looked back up into the corner of the second floor, where he saw another open doorway. He lifted his gun to his side and winced, ignoring the streak of pain in his upper shoulder. He began to ascend the staircase.

_There's a problem, Jane._

_What is it?_

_They've separated. Lucas is on his way up the stairs._

Her heart beat faster and she tried to restrain her breathing.

_Where is he now?_ she asked. She tried to keep the telepathic function of her mind focused, but she found her thoughts rippling and cascading—slipping out of her control as her panic grew.

_He's moving past me, heading in your direction_. Max paused. _You know what you have to do._

_I don't want to use the power, Max,_ she shouted desperately. She didn't. She knew she would have to hurt Lucas, but worst of all, she knew that the guilt would replay in her mind like a broken tape. It was an ancient feeling she neither understood nor cared to recall.

_Do you want to get out of here, Jane?_

She paused, thinking, and the obvious answer came to her. _Yes._

_Then do exactly as I say._

_Okay_.

With that firm realization, the telepathic function of her mind seemed to grow, expanding outward. As Max spoke to her, she tasted the limitlessness of his vast mind and realized his concerns were far greater than simply escaping these men; he was worried about the future of the universe on a much grander scale than she could comprehend and how the events that transpired during these moments would affect it. She pulled herself back from the infinite directions of his thoughts and forced her mind to go still as she focused.

When Lucas reached the top of the staircase, he turned and walked towards the end of the hallway. The wood around him was chipped and splintered, and the faded green paint had almost turned gray. The door at the end was open, and the room that he could see into was bright, with light coming in from the left side, just out of his sight. The floor was littered with glass, bits of carpet, and other debris. He approached the door and stopped. For a second, it was as though he had heard a whisper. He whirled around and looked down the length of the hallway.

He touched his finger to the communications device wrapped around his ear.

"Anything below?" he asked, addressing his subordinates.

"Nothing yet, sir."

"Fine. Keep looking."

As he stared down the darker section of the hallway, he had a distant feeling that someone was staring back at him. It caused a momentary spike of panic, and although he had never been moved by such stirrings, he now felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. He ignored it.

Lucas turned around and entered the room. He stepped over the glass and walked to the left. Within three seconds, he knew someone else was in there with him. He whirled around and saw the door swing on its hinges, moved by an unseen force. His eyes grew wide, and his arm automatically rose to point the weapon at Jane, who he saw standing in the corner. But then his feet were no longer touching the ground, and he watched in confusion as the girl receded from him. He slammed against the wall behind him and squealed as his head connected with the surface. He fell to the floor in a heap, stunned. The last thing he recalled before closing his eyes was the look of regret on the girl's face as she had lifted him off the ground. He heard her footsteps disappear through the house as unconsciousness took hold of him.

***

Jane saw Lucas fall to the floor and began to move immediately, running out of the room. As she did, she begged the guilt to stay buried, if only for a moment longer. Max was standing on the staircase as the other two men entered the hallway below. He turned to her and nodded. The men looked up and saw her. They pointed their weapons at her, but seemed completely oblivious to Max's presence.

_Close your eyes, Jane._ Max stretched his hands towards the men, and she could see the emanation of light begin to form at his palms. She ducked to the floor and closed her eyes as she felt an explosion of psychic energy wash over her. Even through closed lids, the light was blinding. It seemed to be not just visual in nature, but also beaming through her mind as well.

She heard two _thuds_ as the men below her hit the floor hard.

She was sorry she hadn't followed Max's advice to the letter, and she clutched the wall next to her as she staggered to her feet. One hand instinctively went to her mouth as nausea overcame her. Then she gradually opened her eyes and looked at the staircase. The two men were on the floor in an unconscious heap. Max—as he had said he would be—was gone.

She began to breathe deeply. She felt the urge to leave the house as soon as possible, but her feet were glued to the landing. She continued to stare at the space where Max had been standing. A voice gradually came into her mind, growing louder. Finally, she heard it clearly; it was hers. _MOVE!_ it said.

She forced herself to stand upright. Then she darted down the stairs, made her way back into the central room, and headed to the window at the back. She vaulted over it this time, pushing her sleeves over her palms to protect herself from the remaining glass. On the other side, she ran straight ahead, fighting waves of dizziness as she did. She was running both from her own memory and from the men in the house, who she now knew were more dangerous than she had thought.

The feeling of guilt was something she could withstand, if only barely. What caused her breath to come in panicked gasps was the fact that she was now running alone. She had been separated from _him_ , and she had no idea where he was or when she would see him again.

***

After a few minutes of running, she approached the edge of a wooded area and entered. She had never, even in her childhood, been in this remote area that surrounded the local villages. She stepped over a threshold—a path that had been worn by others—and walked down the muddy trail. Trees gradually encased her and shrouded her in dim light as she hoped to escape the men she knew were now pursuing her with vigor.

After walking for some time, she found that her legs were starting to hurt and that the January sky had clouded over, making the wooded area even darker. She thought she should have reached the edge of the wood by now, but there was no sign of it. She stopped and leaned against a large tree. Jane looked around and saw that she was surrounded on all sides by bare forest; she finally admitted to herself that she was lost. She wanted to stay on her feet, but her legs were filled with cramps and were begging her to stop moving. Her eyes filled with tears as she sank to the ground.

As she sat there breathing deeply, the memory—and the feelings of guilt—finally came. She could feel the seatbelt as it pressed against her small, fragile body. She felt the soft touch of the teddy bear as it fell over her shoulder and faded into the pure black of the night below. Then the memory was gone and her mind was clear. She was glad.

She took a deep breath and scanned her surroundings. She was in a clearing. She thought maybe it was a space people her age came to hang out. It was littered with cigarette butts, and the center showed evidence of burn marks: the site of a long-ago summer party and a feeling of warmth she had once been familiar with. Still, she was surrounded on all sides by bare trees and had no idea where she was.

Her hands trembled as she thought about the three men who were pursuing her. Would they be awake again and looking for her? Her pulse began to race beneath her skin once again as thoughts of them bounding through the woods after her teetered on the brink of her consciousness.

She pushed the thoughts aside and let her head fall into her arms as she drew her legs under her. The silent, gentle breeze blew at her face. After a few moments, she fell asleep.

It was only a short while later that she heard him whisper her name in her mind. She woke up with a jerk. It was darker now, but only somewhat. She guessed she had been asleep for no more than twenty minutes, but even that small amount of time was enough for the light of winter to have faded a little. She looked around and saw the ghostly visage in front of her; it was Max, but his appearance was faded slightly. A grin rapidly spread across her face. Every cell in her body lit up at the sight of him. This time, the telepathic communication came effortlessly.

_Thank God._

_Yes. I should be with you in full form momentarily._

_Good. I have absolutely no idea where I am!_

_You were doing really well, Jane. You were going in the right direction. The edge of the forest is only two hundred feet away._

Her mouth dropped open, and she shook her head in disbelief. She slammed her fist into the dirt at her side.

_Don't worry about it. You did fine._

She looked up at him through half-closed eyes. He smiled at her, and she found the energy to smile back.

_You're having trouble with that memory, aren't you?_

She winced, knowing immediately what he was talking about. "The one with the bear?" she asked, quivering, unable to disguise it. He nodded at her. "Yes," she said. "I don't...I don't understand it."

_Take the sand out of your pocket_ , he said simply.

She looked at him for clarification, and when he merely nodded, she reached into her pocket and found the handful of sand he had asked her to take from the beach.

"Another trick, Max?"

_Call it more of a totem than a trick. But it will require tremendous concentration._

She nodded at him and sat up with her back flat against the hard bark of a tree trunk. She glanced at the sand. "What do you want me to do with it?" she asked.

_Think of something you like—an animal. What's the first one that comes to mind?_

"Butterfly," she said without hesitating, and a smile appeared on her pale face. Although she was no longer looking at him, she could see him smile in her peripheral vision.

"Then make one," he said. His voice was loud and clear now as he once again took solid form. She looked up at him, unsure, and saw that he had completely returned to her.

"You know how to do it."

"Like with the fire?"

"Yes. Go to the most basic elements. The molecules. The fire."

She stared back at the handful of sand and could already feel her mind light up as the previously dormant faculties came online more quickly this time. The sand began to swirl in her hand—a small vortex—and she could feel the wind on her face. Her vision went through the swirling mass and beyond the individual grains, into the internal structure. Then, as she focused, she could see every particle moving at once and understood their interrelatedness. She heard his voice again.

_The butterfly_.

_Oh, yes,_ she heard herself say from the more basic parts of her mind. It was almost like another person was speaking through her as she occupied the vast expanse of her consciousness beyond that. The image came then: a gorgeous picture of an exotic butterfly she had seen once for a brief second. The sand began to take shape, and she saw the light shine out from her hand as it crystallized. The wings formed first as clear, transparent glass. Then the light continued across the shape of the creature as the sand continued to encircle it wildly. The few swirls of remaining sand fed into the body as she shaped its final parts with her thoughts.

It was over. The light in her hand faded, and the forest once again came into view around her. She looked up at Max and saw that he was smiling at her. She took a few deep breaths and looked back at her hand. She gasped, seeing that she had created an incredibly intricate and complex glass sculpture. A butterfly, unlike any she had ever seen, sat in the palm of her hand where a moment ago there had been only sand.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes," she said, and looked up at him. "But why?"

"Consider it a totem. The memory that's bothering you—we can't do anything about that right now. It's something that will need time to resolve, I'm afraid. But this will help. If you have to use the power again, keep hold of this afterward. It will help with the intrusive memories."

"Okay."

"Come on. Let's go."

She pushed herself off the ground, ignoring the pain in her legs, and watched as Max continued onward through the forest. She followed him, placing the new ornament in her pocket, and they walked in silence. After a few moments, she gathered the courage to ask him the question that was on her mind.

"You're training me, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said flatly, and they walked on.

A few minutes later, they reached a clearing that led to the road. Max stood to the side of the clearing and gestured forward with his hands for her to leave first. She smiled and thought the gesture both regal and comical. She stepped out and looked to her left and then her right. It was not a road she was familiar with, despite having been down many of these roads as a child, but she noticed trails of sand on the right side at either side of the road.

"That leads back to the beach."

"Yes, and..." He stopped talking abruptly as a screeching sound erupted in the distance, coming from a crossroads up the road to their left.

_Move_ , she heard him say in a stern voice in her mind. The authority in his tone felt like a strong hand pushing at her back. She realized immediately what was happening: They had found her again. She began walking down the road quickly in the direction of the beach, which she could only imagine was a few miles away.

_It's them, isn't it?_ she asked desperately.

_Yes. I'm sorry, Jane, it's that device they're carrying with them. I can't see everything they do. I don't know how they recovered so fast. Whatever you do, don't look back. Just keep walking._

She heard the faint swishing sound beside her, and she knew he was gone again. She could hear the car moving slowly behind her like a predator, and she couldn't resist glancing back. She regretted it immediately; she locked eyes with Lucas and recognition spread across his face. Max was near the vehicle now, his back to her as he examined it. She turned quickly and broke into a run.

_Can you stun them again?_

_No. It's too early. I don't have enough reach in this world to do that again so soon._

She heard Lucas's voice clearly. "That's her, move!" She sprinted down the road as the sound of the revving engine filled the space behind her. The sky in front of her was caked with silver-gray clouds. She watched as Max teleported around her in a haphazard fashion, seeming to check the scene from every angle, looking for options.

"Max, what do I do?" she yelled, hoping for an answer. She kept her eyes on the horizon and kept running, but her breathing was already strained, and each intake of air was a ragged gasp. Her legs no longer felt like appendages, but more like pained wooden planks that she had almost no command over.

_Keep moving, Jane._

The warning tone in his voice as it echoed through her mind was ominous, but she couldn't move any more now, so she stopped, turning around to face Lucas. Half of his torso protruded from the passenger window. He seemed spectacularly out of place against the backdrop of endless, beautiful green countryside. He had both arms stretched forward, pointing his weapon at her. Max was standing to her right now, and she looked to him as her eyes began to fill with tears. She braced for what would no doubt come.

She heard the sound of the weapon, like a jet of compressed air. The dart hit her in the right shoulder, just above the collarbone. She felt the impact as though someone had punched her in the chest. Her body jerked back unbidden, as though she were a puppet. Then she felt it pinch as it punctured her skin. She yelped and looked down at the metallic tube that protruded from her upper chest. She reached to touch the cold metal encasing the intoxicating liquid, which was now beginning to circulate in her bloodstream.

She looked up as she pulled out the dart—gasping in pain—and then she felt a lull as the world swam when she moved. She held the dart in front of her, and her eyes grew wide. She looked ahead and noticed vaguely that Max had teleported back to her side once again.

_It's all right, Jane, just relax,_ he said.

She fell to her knees, barely noticing the pain as they slammed to the pavement below. She could not stay upright. Her body leaned over to the right, and she raised her arm, looking futilely for something to grab as she fell sideways onto the ground. Her face fell flat against the gravel. She felt her temple hit the solid surface. It hurt, but she could barely feel any pain now.

She noticed Lucas in the distance, approaching slowly and cautiously. _Why_? she wondered. Then she realized it was because of Max. He had introduced a new, and possibly dangerous, element to this chase. She didn't think he could see Max very well, but Lucas seemed to have become aware of a presence nonetheless, and it was obviously not something he had prepared for. Lucas was a large and bulky man, but also athletic. She turned away from him, wincing, as his body language disgusted her.

_Max...stay with me._

_Yes, I'm not going anywhere._

_I'm afraid._

_Don't be. I won't let you go._

He was crouched over her. She noticed that Lucas was not looking at Max as he approached. She was motionless now; only her mind was awake, as she had lost all awareness of her body and its function.

_Can he see you?_

_No, he doesn't have "vision." Too hard for him to see me unless I really want him to._

She was drifting now, badly. Her eyes opened and closed as she struggled for a few more seconds of consciousness to talk to Max.

_Wait._

_What is it?_

_Tell my mom what happened, please..._

_Okay, Jane. I will._

_So wonderful...to meet you..._

There was no more worry for her well-being. She was glad she didn't have to run anymore. She fell through the darkness that awaited her, like the depth of an ocean, into deep unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 11 - CAPTURE

CHAPTER 11

CAPTURE

Jane came to consciousness slowly with a deafening sound in her ears. A dreary exhaustion filled every cell in her body as she opened her eyes. In front of her she saw a pane of glass, and through that, the interior of some kind of large metallic structure; she was trapped inside a container of some sort. Her eyes threatened to close again, and she forced them to stay open. She pushed her hands up and felt them thud against the glass sheet surrounding her. She began pushing hard, frantically, against the barrier. It would not move; whatever encased her body was sealed shut. She had the vague impression that she was on a plane. How long had she been out?

As the panic threatened to get the best of her, she dimly thought of the one thing that could enable her escape. She reached down inside her to find the power—despite her fear of using it again—but it was not there. A few panicked gasps escaped her as she attempted to find that elemental force inside her mind, but it would not come. She knew the reason: She was too sedated.

Defeated, her hands fell limply to her sides, and she listened to the sound of what she thought could only be jet engines. Her eyes closed and she held tight to his image, since he was not there to assist her. _Maybe he doesn't fly this high,_ she thought, and she heard someone giggle. After a moment she realized it was her own laughter she was hearing. Then she was out again.

***

After a time—the duration of which she could not discern—Jane slowly came to again and opened her eyes to blackness. She sat up, opening her eyes wider, hoping for some light. She looked around frantically at the room she now found herself in. She could tell only that the interior was white. Straight ahead of the bed she was sitting on, a glass window encased the entire front of the room. The strain of sitting up rapidly tired her, so she lay back down and closed her eyes, willing herself to focus properly.

After a moment, she looked back around at the room through the darkness that enshrouded her. The space was small, but not overwhelmingly so. It seemed to be approximately twenty feet by twenty feet. To her left was a desk, and on the wall just above and to the right of that there seemed to be a television screen. Shadows fell to the left of these objects, cast by the only light entering the room. It seemed to come from small lights lining the bottom of the corridor that ran the length of the room's exterior. Beyond that, she thought she could see a tree of some kind, but she dismissed this idea, assuming it was the remaining effect of whatever drug they had pumped into her during her journey to this place.

She clenched the muscles in her stomach, trying to sit up, and squinted as a sick feeling threatened to rise in her throat. A groan escaped her, and after lifting herself a few inches off the bed, she fell back down and was asleep again within minutes.

***

She awoke later to find that her surroundings were exactly the same; it seemed that no time had passed in this artificial environment. Immediately, she could feel that some of her strength was available to her; the tranquilizing effect of the drug was diminishing. She grasped at the sheets on the bed and pushed herself upwards, squinting as she rose, then felt the urge the vomit. It passed after a moment, and she gulped for air.

Breathing deeply and slowly, she looked out at what she was really faced with. Indeed, it did seem that through the darkness there was a tree opposite the space she now occupied. She could make out the wiry texture of the rivets in the bark that encircled the trunk, but she couldn't understand why on earth she could see a tree. She turned away from it.

She lowered her legs slowly to the floor, trying her best to ignore the nausea, and stood up slowly. Dim white light flickered on and filled the room.

"You now have five minutes of remaining light," a voice said from overhead. Her brow furrowed as her drugged mind tried to understand these simple words.

She paced around the small space, taking note of the minimalist surroundings. She saw a separate door to her left, behind the single bed, and approached it. Inside there was a simple, stark bathroom with a shower, toilet, and metallic sink. To her left, she saw shelving lined with folded clothing that was wrapped in plastic. She winced and returned to the dimmer main section of the room. She felt a lump form in her throat, and the desire to whimper arose in her, but she refused that comfort; her years of stoic control forbade it.

As she sat back down on the bed, her breathing once again became ragged as the realization of what had happened became more apparent: She had been taken to one of the facilities, and she had no idea where it was. She began to desperately gulp air as she felt panic spread through her body. _Where the hell is Max?_ she wondered as she glanced around the room desperately. Then the lights flickered out, and she was once again confronted with the darkness of her new reality.

She stood up again, ignoring the feeling of nausea, and put her hands on the glass. It was thick—she guessed it was nearly a full inch—but she was sure she could shatter it if she tried hard enough, guilt be damned. Failing that, she would bore a hole in it with her thoughts, just like Max had shown her with the fire. She would peer down to its most basic elements and tear it apart from its core, molecule by molecule if she had to.

She felt for the glass with her mind, working slowly, but then the thing that had been lingering just behind her awareness—the thing that had caused her to feel so ill when she first woke up—was finally grasped by her mind: There was nothing there to feel. Those primal faculties of her mind were gone. She could feel only a dim remnant of her ability to detect the physicality of the environment around her.

She gasped and tried again. The darkness seemed to become a thicker, darker blanket around her. She reached out for the glass, but there was still nothing there. Her eyes began to well up as the panic grew worse, and she began to feel her heart beat in her chest in a manner she had never experienced before; she could feel the pulse of blood run up inside her neck. She turned and looked around the room for something else to try. She could discern what looked like a remote control on a desk to her right.

She aimed the beam of focus at it, but once again, it was not there—gone completely. She was aware, only dimly, of the controller's brief outline in the dark, which indicated the ability was still there, but was now reduced to almost nothing. It was as though only one percent of that talent remained—and probably less than that.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as panic got the best of her. She knew what had happened: They had found a way to control it. Not only that; they had switched it off completely. Whatever they had done to this place—to this location where they had taken her—they had somehow managed to close off that channel in her mind where the ethereal energy flowed. She came face to face with the reality that she was now defenseless—and alone. She was cut off from her mother and from Jack, and she realized that she had no way out of here.

She thought of Lucas and her fists clenched as she vowed in that moment that she would find a way to make him pay for doing this to her.

After a time spent slouched against the giant window at the front of her room, facing the bare, white corridor, she returned to the bed and lay down. The panic was abating now, and her breathing began to slow and return to normal. She thought of Max, and a surge of excitement ran through her. She reached out for him with her thoughts, but found that there was nothing there; she could not contact him.

_Max_? she said pleadingly in her mind. But no reassuring fatherlike voice flowed back to her across the winds of the psychic. There was nobody there. _MAX???_ She screamed his name this time as a tear rolled down her cheek. She could discern the faintest whisper, like a voice in the static for a split second.

_Jane_...

But that was all she got. He was gone, too. She was alone.
CHAPTER 12 - MORRIS

CHAPTER 12

MORRIS

Jane drifted in and out of sleep amid the gentle sobs that escaped her. Hours later, in the dark, she heard someone speak in her mind.

_Hello?_ The sound of a male voice came—she thought—from somewhere nearby. She sat up and responded tentatively.

_Hello?_

_I'm Morris. You're Jane, aren't you?_

_Who is that?_ she wondered. She had the impression that the voice was coming through the wall next to her bed, and, obviously, it was a telepathic communication.

_Where are you? Who are you? How do you know about me?_ she asked.

_Oh, sorry. You've been a big deal around here for the last few days. I overheard some of the technicians talking about you a few times._

Jane listened as he paused before continuing.

_I think the first thing I've got to tell you is that they have total control of us with that dampening signal they use. It blocks the brainwave pattern that enables psychokinesis. We don't know how it works exactly, or how they generate it, but in some spots we can still get a telepathic signal. It fades in and out, though, you know? It's like trying to tune an old radio most of the time._

Jane thought about this for a second and found that it immediately struck her as both dangerous and manipulative.

_That doesn't sound good,_ she said tentatively.

_Yeah. They say it's harmless, but I can only imagine it's doing some kind of damage to us._

A silence fell between them as Jane felt a distant stirring of something she had long since stopped imagining—a ray of light shining into a long-forgotten, empty tomb.

_Where are you from, Morris?_ She sat on the bed against the wall and drew her legs under her. She was desperately happy to have somebody—anybody—to talk to, and he seemed friendly.

_I'm from Boston._

_Did you...do something? I mean, did they have a reason to put you in here?_

_Ugh...it's kind of a long story._

On some level she felt a wall go up in his mind, and she knew not to pursue the line of questioning further. She didn't care what he did or didn't tell her; she was just happy to talk to someone.

_How long have you been in here?_ she asked gently.

_Six months._

She considered this response, but found it only caused further consternation. Her brow furrowed.

_Have others been in that long?_ she asked.

_Some longer._

_How have they managed to keep this place hidden and out of public knowledge?_

_Good question. I don't know, but I get the impression that it's teetering on the brink. People are finally starting to talk about these places now. I don't think they can control the flow of information anymore._

Silence ensued for another moment, and Jane considered what he had said. After a while, he picked up the conversation again.

_So what did you do?_

_Well...that's a long story too. One time, when I was younger—_ She stopped suddenly, realizing that she was launching into the explanation without thinking. A flood of memories came rushing back to her. Most of them were just fragmentary images, as that was all she could ever really remember: the teddy bear, the shattered windshield below her. She winced without being aware that she was doing so. She was also unaware of the fact that she had started to shiver just slightly as that trauma threatened to rise to the surface.

_Are you okay?_ His voice came back to her, surprising her with its reassurance. She found herself falling into it in an unexpected way. Like a ray of light, it broke the circling, threatening memories, and she was once again back in the stark white room. The telepathic communication had been unfamiliar to her until recently, but now that she was doing it more frequently, she found it came just as naturally to her as talking aloud.

_It's fine. I'm so used to censoring myself, that's all. I've been hiding everything all these years._

_I understand,_ he responded. _I didn't feel the need to do that, to be honest. I just used it. Although it tired me sometimes. Does it make you tired?_

_Well, yes, actually, it hurt me once...it nearly killed me._

_Really?_

She could feel the shock of his response reverberate in her mind and thought she could almost see him turn his head towards the wall.

_How?_ he asked, concern in his voice.

She told him what little she could remember about the accident with the car. She could feel him listening intently in a room somewhere nearby. She could sense his interest. It was nice to have someone listen to her. Her mother had never wanted to talk about it much, for obvious reasons; it was the thing that might one day result in her being taken. Also, there was too much difficult family history attached to the subject.

_So you lifted the entire car?_ Morris asked.

She hesitated. _Apparently... You know, I don't actually remember much of it. I blacked out._

The silence in his pause was palpable. _No wonder they were after you the way they were._

She didn't tell him about the fact that her father had left them soon after the accident. She had never told anyone about that, and found it a difficult subject to discuss, even with her mother. _Do you know where we are?_ she asked _._

_No. I have no idea. We were all brought in unconscious. I have a feeling we're in New York, though._

_Why?_

_Colin overheard one of the lab techs talk about the city a while back. He was talking about it as though he was going to be there that evening. So we're obviously not quite in the city, but maybe somewhere near it._

New York! She gasped in shock. So she _had_ been on a plane. The metallic structure she had seen beyond the glass had been the fuselage of the interior. She took a deep breath and looked around in the dark again. From where she was sitting, she could see past the walls of her room and the outer corridor and into the center of the indoor garden across the way. Her brow furrowed as she made out the ropey lines of thick bark in the dim light.

_What exactly is it they do here, Morris?_

_Well...it's a detention facility. Every now and then they take us into a room and do a bunch of tests on us. Actually, it's mostly Lucas who does that._

She noticed he was briefly distracted by this realization, as if the relevance of it was just occurring to him.

_They lower the field a bit to give us access to some of our ability, but never enough to escape, and they make us do stuff for them while they monitor us._

Again, a look of confusion spread across Jane's face as she looked away from the garden to the wall on her right. She had the sense that something was beyond these simple explanations.

_Morris, what is it exactly they get out of that? What could they gain from it? Everything to do with "Vision" has been studied in depth: psychokinesis, clairvoyance, telepathy, you name it. Lots of books have been written on the subject, and it's been talked about in mainstream media. There's not much they can really gain from monitoring small spikes of psionic activity, so why do it?_

She could almost feel his hesitation through the link between their minds.

_I hadn't really thought of that,_ he replied. _But now that you mention it, I guess it does seem odd. I suppose I didn't want to think about it. Being in this place...it's like we're drugged or something._

_Tell me about Lucas,_ she said.

_Well, it's mostly him who's running the tests. And whoever else is behind the glass in that room. I don't even think they're supposed to be doing that. Although the existence of these places isn't public knowledge, so I suppose they can do whatever they like._

There was a pause again, but it was not uncomfortable. Jane lay down on her bed, turning towards the wall. She lifted her legs towards her chest until she was lying in a fetal position.

_You know,_ he said, _now that you've said it, it does seem that they want something from us...something else. I just hadn't thought about it before. They all do—I'm just not sure what it is._

_Well, yeah. It seems kind of obvious to me now,_ she replied. They both stopped talking for a moment, though Jane could feel in her mind that the channel was still open. There was a minute amount of discomfort between them in that silence, but it was gone quickly.

_We should get some sleep, Jane._

_Yeah, good idea. Nice to meet you, Morris._

_You too. See you tomorrow, probably in the cafeteria._

_Sure, good night._

_Night._

His voice faded and she was alone again. She fell into a restful sleep three minutes later.

***

The lights suddenly flickered on in her room the next morning. It went from total darkness to stark white in one second. She opened her eyes and squinted, stepping up to the glass at the front of her room. She saw several people in white coats walk past her. _How many people do they have down here?_ she wondered.

Beyond them and to the left she saw the tree, now in full view. It was across the corridor beyond another veil of thick glass, and it was perhaps one of the most unusual things she had ever seen. It was the central part of a large garden that stretched two stories above them. She stared at this beyond the people who walked past and looked in at her.

A moment later, the door slid open behind her. She twisted around, pressing her back against the thick glass. The door was a giant slab of what Jane presumed was a heavy metallic compound; it had a small window at the top center. She doubted, even with access to her psychokinetic abilities, that she would have been able to break through it—not without a severe headache, anyway.

Jane approached the door. She could hear footsteps approaching in the hallway beyond it. Lucas came from around the corner and smiled at her; it was a fake, cardboard-looking grin.

"Good morning, Jane," he said cheerily.

She looked at him sourly without responding.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

She stared at him for a moment, then asked, "What am I doing here?"

"Well, you're dangerous, Jane. I think you proved as much on the street outside your home."

"How did I do that?"

"You endangered a man by using your supernormal ability to alter the course of his vehicle, resulting in a car crash."

"That's not what happened..."

He put his hand up and she stopped speaking.

"I'm not getting into this conversation with you. You attacked me as well."

Her jaw dropped open in stupefaction, and she glared at him. "You were pointing a gun at me!" she growled.

He looked down at the transparent tablet in his hands and checked something. He glanced up at her briefly after a moment, without responding to her exclamation. "You'll find clothing in the bathroom," he said, indicating the room on his right. "Change into them, please. That will be your regular attire while you're here."

"How long do you plan on keeping me here?"

"Until we learn to control this...unusual activity in your mind." He turned to leave.

"You can't control it, Lucas," she spat back, not knowing where the words came from and not having planned to say anything. He turned back and glared at her.

"Yes we can."

She decided not to pursue that line of conversation, knowing she was right, but also knowing it would lead nowhere. "You and I both know I didn't do anything dangerous, Lucas."

"But you did display a dangerous streak, Jane," he said. "You took control of that man's car, changed its trajectory, and caused an accident. Change into those clothes, please. You should go to the cafeteria and eat something. Breakfast is served for one hour only." He turned and walked out of the room.

She stood there, her jaw gaping open. Thoughts formed and begged to be vocalized, but nobody was left to hear them. Lucas was distorting the facts about her situation, and she understood then that her predicament was more difficult than she first thought. She considered not changing into the clothes as a form of protest, but knew it probably wouldn't do any good. She would have to wait to find out more about the facility and her situation before expressing dissent of any kind.

After Lucas left, Jane reluctantly changed into the white clothing. There was an optional white overcoat that stretched to her ankles, and she decided to wear it, noticing a slight chill in the air that flowed across her bare feet. She slipped on the simple shoes that had been provided for her.

A few moments later, Morris appeared at the entrance to her room and smiled. He was tall with sandy-brown hair, a strong, angular face, and a muscular, lithe frame. She felt a slight surge of adrenaline run through her when she looked at him _._ He was wearing the simple white garments that were practically the same as her own, though he was not wearing the overcoat. He extended his hand confidently and smiled.

"Good morning," he said cheerily. "It's nice to have you here, Jane."

She hesitated, then stuck out her hand awkwardly like a stick to shake his. "Same."

"Come with me. We'll go and get breakfast."

He motioned for her to leave the room, so she followed him into the corridor. They walked down the hall that contained their bedroom doors and entered a central section. On the ceiling were sophisticated-looking fluorescent lights. There were large red bulbs in every corner, obvious against the white background.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked as he led her through the corridor.

She was groggy and the bright lights felt intrusive.

"I suppose so. I've never really talked to anyone like that before." She realized the slight lie in this—she was omitting information about Max—but she knew it was far too early to bring him up. They reached a central section; looking around, Jane saw a series of four corridors that met at this cruciform point.

"Yeah," Morris said. "Not too many people out there with strong telepathic control. I only ever talked to a few growing up. It was good when it happened, though. We'll have to compare notes." He turned to her and smiled again as they continued walking straight ahead past the cross section.

"I suppose so, yeah," she said, returning his smile tentatively.
CHAPTER 13 - KINDRED

CHAPTER 13

KINDRED

They continued past the central point where the four corridors met and walked through the one straight ahead of them. A short distance down the opposite walkway they walked up a staircase that led to the cafeteria. Morris entered and stood in front of her. There were six other people in the cafeteria when Jane entered. There was one group of three, one group of two, and one other young man who sat by himself. They were scattered throughout the room in a sparse fashion. They all seemed to be within two years of her age, most of them around the same age or older.

She noticed immediately that they looked tired and dejected; still, there was also something wonderful about them. Jane wondered whether this impression was simply because she was suddenly in the presence of people her age with whom she had something fundamentally in common, or whether it was perhaps something intrinsic to them.

She felt an unusual sensation, like a rush of air, as she looked back towards them and the small amount of chattering stopped. The entire room fell silent; slowly, everyone's gaze fell upon her. _Everyone_ in the room was suddenly looking at her.

As they stared, an ineffable energy, a crackling, seemed to rise in the room. She felt the others connecting to her in a way she could not describe. It was as though, suddenly, invisible tethers had come from them and latched onto her. Morris had been walking towards the serving station when he hesitated and turned around to look at her. She could see it on his face also; whatever it was, he could feel it.

The chef had been ladling food into a tray. Now he was watching them. His ladle clanked against one of the metallic food containers. The sound echoed around the room, breaking the spell. Jane looked over at him and then back at the room. Though they were all still watching, the groups had returned to their conversations, which were now obviously about her. She went over to the counter with Morris. As he smiled at her, she found herself very glad that he was next to her.

She was served eggs with bacon. She reluctantly took the food from the chef, who smiled at her sardonically and turned around. The others continued watching her, more discreetly now, as she and Morris moved through the room to find a seat. They chose an empty table in the corner of the room. Just next to it was a large window that ran along the length of the cafeteria. Outside and underneath them was the main hallway that ran along the front side of her room.

Through this window, stretching from the ground to the second-floor ceiling, Jane saw the full extent of the arboretum. It was full of trees and beautiful flowers. She gasped when she saw it, for its grandeur was unexpected. After placing her tray on the table, she and Morris sat down opposite each other. He smiled at her, and she returned the smile shyly.

She turned again to examine the beautiful sight to her right. The centerpiece was an oak tree that stretched through the space towards a giant slanted skylight in the ceiling. Light beamed through its branches in dusty arcs, contrasting with the green below. There were smaller bushes and plants scattered throughout, while the ground was covered with closely cropped grass.

The plants bore beautiful flowers, many of which were white. There were also bright red roses and ornamental lilies. They seemed to be, even from this distance, more alive than any flowers she had ever seen.

"That was unusual," she heard Morris say. She turned around to face him again. At first she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she realized he was referring to what had happened when she had entered the room. She smiled.

"Yes, what was _that_?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the people scattered throughout the room.

"I don't know. Maybe they're just desperate for new company," he said, smiling widely.

She knew he was trying to make her feel better. She looked down at the food, realizing that she was very hungry but not finding her meal appetizing. She picked at it and forced herself to eat some. "Is this how they all usually sit? Do you sit with them at all?" she asked.

"Sometimes. There are a few, like those three over there, who do." He nodded in the direction of the three people Jane had noticed sitting together.

She looked over her shoulder at them.

"Carl, Ciara, and Joel," he said.

One of them was looking at her; the girl turned away when Jane looked in their direction.

"They seem to get along quite well," he continued. "And Mike hangs out with Colin a lot. There seem to be natural connections that form between us."

When he said this, something about Morris that she had already suspected struck Jane quite clearly: He was intelligent and keenly aware. She was glad of this, and found her body relax just a little more as she exhaled. She turned around to her far right and saw a girl sitting by herself in the far corner of the room.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"That's Sophia. She sits by herself a lot. She's been here for several months, and she's barely said as much as 'hello' to any of us. I think she's talked to Mike a few times, but that's about it."

"Not so friendly?"

"Nah, I don't think she's that bad, really. I just think she's mad about being in here."

Jane turned back and picked at her food some more. "So, Morris, if they let us out of our rooms in the mornings, what else do people actually do in this place?" She took a bite of the eggs. They tasted half decent to her, if a little bland.

"I play video games, read, work out in the gym. There are recreation rooms with movie libraries. They call them 'digital theaters,' but they're really just glorified flat-screens with sofas. We have some digital devices, but no Internet access unless it's monitored—only standard stuff like encyclopedias, that kind of thing. Probably ninety-nine percent of the internet is completely blocked."

"So we can't post about our situation, presumably."

"No. Of course, the Internet would be the perfect means to catalogue everything that's happening in this place. But...not a network in sight!"

She listened to him while delicately picking at the food. "Okay, all I've seen so far are a few rooms and corridors. What else is there?" she asked.

"Not a whole lot. There's a fitness room with a small court for playing games, and the arboretum," he said, looking to Jane's right. "As you can see."

"Yes. Why would they go to that kind of trouble for us, though?" she asked.

He looked across the corridor through the two glass windows that separated them from the beautiful garden. "I don't know. It's something I've thought about, though," he said between mouthfuls of food. He seemed unfazed by the taste and continued to eat.

Jane tried some of the bacon and found it wasn't quite as bad as it looked. "We were going to talk about Lucas last night, but you didn't really say much about him."

The smile faded from his lips. "Well...that's because I don't like the guy."

She stopped eating and stared at him. Morris swallowed another mouthful of food, and, after a moment, began speaking again.

"You know, things have changed around here recently. People seem more rushed, him included. It's like somebody's put gold bars in their pockets or something. It's strange, but..." His gaze drifted to the empty side of the table as he considered this.

"What is it?" Jane asked, sensing something important was lurking just underneath the surface.

"I guess what I've only come to realize recently is that it seems like now more than ever...they're trying to find _something_."

Jane's brow furrowed as she considered this. Something clicked into place inside her. "And him? What about him?" she asked, referring to Lucas.

"Him especially. I haven't told you about the testing room yet. It's at the far end of the complex. When they lower the dampening field, I've tried to scan the room next to it, to see who, or what, is in there, but I haven't been able to see much. I could tell that there was equipment of some kind, but I wasn't able to see much else. I had a conversation once with a couple of the guys—Mike and Colin." He nodded towards her right shoulder, and she turned to see the two young men sitting together on the other side of the cafeteria. The one she suspected was Mike was facing her; he had been looking at her when she turned around, as if foreseeing it.

Morris continued. "We were thinking that if we could find out how the dampening field works, and found a way to turn it down just a little bit, we could pool our abilities and...maybe we could get out of here if we tried hard enough."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Well, we thought about it, but we felt defeated at the time. We didn't think we would stand any chance against Lucas and an army of technicians and people with advanced weaponry." He looked up and his gaze drifted outward to the arboretum. Then he continued. "But something's changed now. They used to take us into the testing room maybe once a week. They said it was for the purpose of _rehabilitation_ —learning to use psychic function responsibly, as if that's something any of these idiots could teach. Now it's at least twice, or even three times, a week."

"Why?"

"I don't know." He took another bite of food, then pushed his tray aside, having eaten most of it. "Until recently, they would lower the field only a small amount, just enough to let you levitate a single marble or push a piece of crumpled paper. Now they're lowering it more, pushing us to use our abilities further—taking risks. It's still not enough for us to do any damage in there or escape, but...it just doesn't really make sense, I suppose."

Jane considered this and again experienced the familiar feeling that some vital piece of information was missing and just beyond her reach. She thought back to when she had been in the abandoned house with Max, just a day ago, and to that moment when she asked him what he was omitting from the information he had given her. She suspected then that it had been something grand. Now she suspected these two things were interrelated, and for the first time the thought entered her mind that she didn't know very much about Max or his intentions.

"And Lucas...he's more _into_ this testing than the others?" she asked.

"Yes, far more. Obsessed, even, I would say. Before, he was just checking on us, to see what we could do. Now he seems to want something. I don't know what it is, though," Morris said, and paused. "I get the distinct impression that he's dangerous."

"Why?"

"It's just the way he handles us—his mannerisms. It's kind of disgusting. He's careless, too; the last time he lowered the field, I got one brief flash that I thought came from his mind. It was just a single image, though."

"What was it?"

Morris paused and a look of consternation came over his face. He relaxed his grip on his fork, then tightened it again. His eyes moved over the various utensils on the table.

"It was the sea," he said in a calm, drifting voice. "As though I were flying over the sea, searching for something."

Jane felt something click inside her again when he said this, but she wasn't sure what it was. "What do you think that means?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, nodding his head. "I don't know what it's about." He looked down at his now-empty tray. Jane could feel the reticence coming off him in waves.

She looked around at the others in the room. She took a quick glance out at the arboretum and was glad to at least have some green to look at instead of the endless white walls.

They left when Jane had finished eating as much of the food as she could. She and Morris made plans to watch a movie in one of the recreation rooms. As she left, the six others in the room stared at her once again in that same longing fashion. She found the courage to smile back at them tentatively as she and Morris walked out.

***

Morris took Jane on a tour of the facility after breakfast. It was smaller than she had expected. The central corridor that Jane could see from her room was at the front of the facility, and it stretched in either direction, leading to sections behind locked doors, beyond their reach. Jane watched people in white lab coats coming and going from the doors at the left end of this main corridor. Morris informed her that the rooms beyond it contained a laboratory of some kind, but he didn't know what work was done there.

In front of that main corridor, behind a glass wall, was the enormous arboretum that towered up to the second story, which could be looked out on from the cafeteria on the second floor. There was a smaller corridor leading off the main corridor that connected to their bedrooms on the left, and stairs that led to the cafeteria on their right. Beyond that, there was a sliding glass door leading to another corridor. This connected to a second cross section, which led to the recreation and reading rooms on the left and the gym and sports facility on the right.

Morris showed Jane everything. The reading rooms had comfortable sofas and a coffee machine. There was a room primarily used for other kinds of digital entertainment, with video games and large flat-screen televisions. Besides that, there was something of a small theater with another television.

On the other side of the corridor, Jane saw that the gym was small, with several cardio machines and weights. She doubted she would be using it. There was also a court that one could use for various games, such as basketball. Of more interest to her than anything else was the metallic door she saw down the final corridor, which led away from this section of the facility.

Jane looked at it. "What's down there?" she asked.

"It's the main employee area," Morris replied. "I've never seen through it. I've seen people come and go from there, but I don't know anything about what's beyond the door."

"Did you ever try to... _see_?"

"Psychically? No. It never really occurred to me, I guess," he said, then looked at her comically. "Wouldn't be able to, anyway."

Jane looked at it and wondered. Without the dampening field, she might have been able to look through it. Once again, she felt frustrated that her abilities were locked away from her. Before, she had suppressed them herself. Now she would give almost anything to have them back.

She and Morris elected to spend the afternoon watching movies, so they went into the windowless room, which was about fifty square feet and lined with comfortable, expensive-looking sofas. Bookshelves adorned the walls. She briefly glanced at the selections, then sat on the sofa next to Morris as he flipped through the channels. She left a good foot of space between them. She did not understand the nervous energy that ran through her body the more time she spent with him: a flutter in her chest that grew in intensity quite quickly.

"Doesn't this life make you lazy?" she asked him.

"Yep," he responded.

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Yes," he said, not taking his eyes off the large television screen. "So what are we going to watch?"

"You pick," Jane replied as the endless selection of movies appeared on the screen. "Just as long as it's a comedy. I need a comedy right now."

"Classic or contemporary?"

"I don't mind. Anything from the late nineties on will do fine."

Morris swiped his hand sideways and the selections whizzed past in a blur. Jane didn't pay attention to the selection he made. A moment later, the movie began.

Jane hadn't talked to a peer this much in years. She was acutely aware of this, but all of her self-consciousness had vanished. She had never felt more comfortable with a person. Even when the conversation turned to her father, she found she hesitated only briefly before talking about him. She told Morris how she had blocked out her psionic abilities for a long time after the accident.

"What made you start using them again?" he asked.

She thought about the snowy night when she had first used the faculty again and told him about it. "Then I started using it more," she said, "and it became..." She hesitated; unbeknownst to her, her brow furrowed before she continued. "A little addictive. Whenever my mom wasn't around, I was testing myself with small things. I nearly broke a lamp once."

Morris laughed at this.

After a ten-minute silence during which they watched the movie and laughed—a laugh that was nourishing, but also somewhat forced, even awkward—Jane spoke again.

"Why aren't reports about us getting into the news or onto the Internet?" she asked. "I mean, surely your parents told somebody."

"Like who, the police? What would they do? It's inside governmental rule, and who knows where operatives like the ones down here fall on the spectrum of things? We've been apprehended, Jane, not kidnapped. Aside from that, I think they've scared off most of the journalists. There are some talking about it cryptically, if you know where to look. The information is probably there if they dig deep enough and ask enough questions, but I think they're disinclined."

He looked at her. "You do realize we're at the center of a global phenomenon, don't you? Possibly even a cosmic phenomenon. The last thing they want is for it to be democratized, I would imagine, the way everything else has been the last twenty years. The emerging psychokinetic function is like a galaxy you can hold in the palm of your hand. You and I and the others here, and whoever they've got in the other facilities—we're priceless to them. And if they can capture us like this, don't you think they can pull the plug on a few news reports? Maybe they're even trying to replicate our ability somehow."

She looked at him, the skepticism on her face obvious.

"Yeah, I know, that's not it. But something's happened around here in the last few months, I know that." He looked back at the television for a moment. "You know," he said, looking over at her again, "there is one thing I'd like to know, Jane."

"What?"

"How did you know Lucas was coming? The first time, I mean."

She gasped, just a little.

He turned back to the television for a moment. Then he met her gaze again. "It's okay, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said.

She decided to tell him. What harm could it do at this point? So he might think she was crazy...what difference would it make?

"Well, there's this man..." She found herself struggling immensely, trying to describe Max to him. Morris looked around the room as she hesitated, and she suddenly felt like she was in a circus.

"Who is he?" Morris asked.

"Well," she began, "he's not human. His name is Max. He's some kind of...entity. He first came to me in my dreams when I was young, and he warned me about Lucas. Those dreams took place on an alien world somewhere. He showed up again, for the first time in ten years, just when my mother and friend were in danger. Then he warned me again before Lucas found me in Dublin. He stayed with me right up until the point they caught me, but now...I can't contact him. He seems to be gone." As she said this last sentence, her expression turned into one of anguish.

"It's because of the dampening field, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Bastards."

"What?"

"Just when it sounds like you've got something helpful on your side, it's gone."

"Well, he's not gone. He won't leave me, I know that. I just can't contact him, or he can't contact me."

He nodded. "I have no intention of staying here, do you?" Morris asked, his tone now serious.

"No. Besides, I've never been to New York City. I really want to see it."

He smiled at her, and she felt that same electricity again. She managed to smile back this time.

"This guy, Max..." Morris said, his brow furrowing as he said the name aloud. "Do you think he can help us?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I think he definitely will if he can. But he seems to be quite limited in what actions he can take in the physical world."

"Makes sense, I suppose." A look of defeat came across his face for a moment, but it was gone in an instant and replaced with an expression of steel. It was the usual face of the young man she was getting to know. "We'll find a way out, even without his help."

She wanted to take his hand then, but fear overcame her, even though she could feel an energy building between them—an energy she had never really felt in her life. They watched the rest of the movie in silence. Jane thought it odd that she had come so far, through such peril, to find this moment of peace. She lay back against the sofa and relaxed.

"You know," Morris said after a long silence, "my family has Irish roots. I'm gonna have to ask you about that, Jane."

"I'd expect nothing less," she responded.

***

When the movie was over, they left. Jane watched Morris play basketball in the small court in the secondary section. She joined in for a few moments, and even beat him in a couple of rounds. She had never liked sports much, but found that in this sterile environment, with the bright fluorescent lights shining down on them and with just the two of them on the court, it was actually good fun.

After that, they left for lunch. They hadn't yet visited the place Jane wanted to see most: the arboretum.
CHAPTER 14 - TRINITY

CHAPTER 14

TRINITY

They went to eat lunch then, and Jane noticed once again how the others stared at her as she entered the cafeteria. She smiled at them hesitantly, again feeling the strange connection flowing between them. There was a warmth to this feeling, but her hands still shook slightly as she held the tray and walked past them. She breathed deeply at the thought of introducing herself to them, knowing it would have to wait a bit longer.

She and Morris sat alone at the same table in the corner of the room. Jane hadn't paid much attention to what was being served; she looked down at the plain chicken breast covered with some kind of basic tomato sauce. Perched next to it was a mound of mashed potato.

"Not bad," she said. Morris laughed out loud and she smirked in response.

"Sorry, Jane," he said, looking down at the food. "I just wasn't expecting company."

"You're forgiven," she said, "this time." They smirked again and began to eat. The sounds of chatter that permeated the room were more animated than they had been at breakfast. Jane looked around at the faces, now able to put names to some of them. She was glad for this as she returned their stares and even smiled at some of them. She turned back to Morris then, noticing the guard in the opposite corner of the room. He had been standing somewhere else at breakfast, and Jane had been too preoccupied to pay him any attention then.

Morris told her his name was Rodriguez. He was dressed in a formal black suit; around his waist was strapped a sophisticated-looking weapon. Jane could only guess that it was some kind of advanced Taser, and she had the definite impression that she would be on the floor in a second if she were to take a shot from it. He turned and looked at her, and she turned away from his fierce gaze, their eyes having met only for one second. She shook off the terrible feeling that the brief eye contact evoked in her and looked back at Morris.

"You know, either way, it's nice to be able to talk to somebody about...all _this_ ," she said.

He looked at her, seeming confused for a moment, then realization spread over his face. "Yes, I know the feeling," he replied.

"Did your parents ever talk to you about it? Or ask you about it?"

"No," he said flatly; again, she could sense the hesitation. He reached for his glass and took a drink of water.

"When did it first show itself?"

"When I was five."

"Five? What happened?"

"I was playing, they said, in their living room. They had left me alone with the television and some toys. They heard me laughing hysterically, and so they came back into the room and found that the reason I was laughing was because toys were levitating around me."

Jane couldn't help but smile as she began to laugh. "I'm sorry. That's just funny."

He was smiling too. "I know," he said, but then a look of resignation came over his face. "I ran away when I was fifteen."

She had been about to take a bite of chicken when she stopped and looked up at him. He was staring at her.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really. Just a terrible sense that I didn't belong. They'd seen enough, I thought: enough glasses slipping off the counter, enough shattered windows, enough of all of it. I didn't feel comfortable there anymore. I didn't want to bother them."

"So you've been on your own for...how long?"

"Two years."

She kept her head down and glanced up at him from averted eyes. "It must have been difficult."

"Yeah," he croaked, then looked out towards the arboretum.

"Where did you go?"

"Anywhere—everywhere. I took buses to different states. Tried to stay where it was warm. I had some money saved, so I used it to stay in hostels. When the money ran out, I had to dive into the power to find ways to survive. I never took more than I needed to, though."

"How did you get caught?"

"It's a story. I'll tell you some other time. It's enough to say for now that I got in with the wrong crowd."

Although she wanted to know more about what had happened, she decided not to press him further.

"You're seventeen too, right?" he asked.

She nodded. She decided it was time to change the course of the conversation.

"So, tell me more about the dampening field. What do you think it's doing to us?" she asked. She could see the look of distant desperation come across his face.

"I don't know. It can't be good, though. When I think about it, it makes me feel sick that we're being exposed to it.

"Yeah. It doesn't feel good, like a tiny headache lingering in the background," she said.

Morris looked up as someone approached their table from the other side of the room. A young man with black hair sat down next to Jane.

"You guys both look like you're having a lot more fun than is allowed in here," he said, exuding a cheerfulness that made Jane smile immediately. "I'm Michael," he said, extending his hand to Jane.

She took his hand and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Michael. I'm Jane."

"Are you the girl who lifted the car? From Ireland?"

Jane looked at Morris and pursed her lips into a thin smile. Somehow, he had found the time to communicate this information already. Or else Michael had found it out by some other means.

"Yes, that was me. When I was very young. I was seven years old and my parents and I were driving home from the countryside. My dad..." She stopped talking and almost gasped as the pain once again surfaced. It was old now, though, like ancient scar tissue. She was about to reach into her pocket for the crystalline butterfly, but realized she had left it in her room. She regained her composure quickly and moved on. "My dad misjudged a turn and drove us right over a cliff." She stopped again as the memory began to fill her mind. "I caught the car—somehow—I don't quite know how. I don't remember. But it was dangerous. It took a toll on my body." She hadn't been prepared to go into that level of detail about the accident and now wished she hadn't.

"That's amazing. Have you ever been able to replicate that level of ability?"

"No. Actually, I kind of cut it off after that. There was..." She hesitated and thought of Max. She had almost told him without even thinking about it. It had seemed so natural to think about him previously, as though he existed on this plane, in this world, just like everyone else. But he didn't. She resigned herself to waiting longer before discussing things like that any further. She had told Morris, but she felt a growing comfort with him, and it had seemed natural to tell him. "There was an awareness in me, I suppose, that it was dangerous. Lucas showed up at our house a few days afterward."

"He went to _Ireland_?" Michael asked, shocked.

"Yes. He came to our house, and I'm pretty sure he went to examine the road where the car went off."

"So..." Michael's brow furrowed and he looked at the two of them, astonished. "Why weren't you sent to the Paris facility? Surely that would have made more sense?"

Morris looked to his side, thinking. "I heard something once about somebody being expedited from Europe for some reason or another—somebody with Vision, somebody dangerous. So I guess it does happen. Mike's right, though: I would have thought they'd take you to Paris."

"I know there's a facility there," Mike added. "Aside from the fact that rumors have pointed to Paris for years, Ciara heard one of the guards talking about it a few weeks back."

Morris was shaking his head slowly. "I think it's crap," he said. "I bet he jumped through some serious hoops to extradite you from Europe. Which only lends credence to the idea that they're after something. Like you said, Jane, dozens of books have been written about psychokinesis. Why drag us here under these pretenses? Rehabilitated? I mean, what kind of crap is that? You don't need rehabilitation, do you?"

Michael raised his eyebrows and looked at Jane.

She looked at Morris, thinking. "No, I don't, and yes, I agree," she said quietly. She kept her eyes on the table in front of her as she spoke; she knew what he said was true.

"They have been behaving differently lately," Michael said.

Jane looked at him. She had an enormous sense that he was a good person, and just like Morris, she trusted him immediately. He was shorter than Morris, about five feet ten. He had short black hair and exuded slightly less physical confidence, but his face was built strongly. He seemed to have a more comic edge.

"So what can you do most, Michael? I mean..."

"You mean, which talent do I have to the greatest extent?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Michael here has a good mix in his blood," Morris began. "A good amount of psychokinesis, but he has one unusual trick that none of us can replicate...yet."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Jane asked.

"He calls it 'bending light.'"

"Really?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. She had not yet considered that anyone may have grown or adapted the simple mental functions beyond their basic forms.

"Yes. It happened by accident one day, then I researched the properties of light so I could understand it better. Have you ever heard of gravitational lensing?"

She shook her head.

"Well," Michael continued, "it describes how a massive object can distort the light from an object behind it. See, light rays follow the curvature of spacetime. I create the gravitational force in front of the object with psychokinesis and then distort the light rays, effectively making it invisible. That's more of a metaphor than an explanation, though, and it takes a lot of concentration to pull it off. Sometimes I can't do it, and it doesn't really look convincing; it just ends up looking like a blob of light."

She looked around and saw that there was nobody in the cafeteria to take notice of what they were doing. Rodriguez, apparently bored by the tedium of his job, had turned to the window at the front of the hall and was looking across to the arboretum.

"Can you show me?" she asked without thinking, then raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, I forgot. That's not possible, right? Dampening field?"

"Well, actually, that's why I came over to you." Michael hesitated and looked behind him, then turned back to face them again. "Did you notice that thing when you walked in the room and everyone looked at you?"

She looked over at Morris, a little nervous. She still wasn't sure what to think about that. "Yes, actually, I did. It was a little weird."

"Well, I felt it too. It was like, when you walked in the room something lifted inside me. I want to say, like, my spirit or my mood, but it's not that. I could feel my ability coming back just a little bit, peering out through the dampening field."

"Why now?" Jane asked.

He looked at Jane intently and seemed to hesitate over what he was about to say. "It's something about you, Jane, I think. Maybe it's something you can do that you don't know about." He looked down at the salt and pepper shakers. "Pass me that, will you, Morris?"

Morris gave him the pepper shaker and Michael placed it in his hand. He looked over his shoulder again in Rodriguez's direction. When he saw that they were not being monitored directly, he turned back around.

Jane watched as Michael stared at the shaker. He appeared to focus tremendously, and his eyes narrowed. As he continued to stare at the object in his hand, his eyes flashed minutely. A small gasp escaped Jane, for she had never seen anything like it before. The space around the shaker shimmered, reminding her of the metallic mirage one might see on a desert floor.

Then the shaker was gone, and Michael's hand was empty. Three seconds later the shimmer returned, and the shaker was there again. Michael exhaled, the strength of will having obviously strained him.

"That was amazing," Jane said, overcome with awe and excitement.

"But ordinarily, that dampening field would stop me from doing it," Michael said through labored breathing. He looked at her. "I'm pretty sure it's you, Jane. There's something about you that's shifted the balance in some way just enough for me to do that."

Morris chimed in. "I actually noticed something too. From the second you walked into the facility, I knew you were here. It was like I could hear a beacon, you know? I could feel it. And that signal we got last night when we were talking to each other? I've never been able to talk to anyone like that since I came here."

"You're saying... _I'm_ affecting this field that they're generating?"

"No, it's not like that," Michael replied. "I don't think any of us could really do that. I think it's more like you're emitting something yourself—some kind of force that's increasing our ability naturally, allowing us to peer up and out over the dampening field, maybe by just an inch or two."

"And that implies that if we were in your presence when the field wasn't active, our natural ability would be boosted," Morris added. He and Michael looked at each other and grinned.

"Just to be clear, you're suggesting that something in me...is making your natural psychic ability stronger?" Jane asked. She was in disbelief, but at the same time found herself silently acknowledging that something was clicking into place inside her. Had she known this about herself all along? She suspected that on some level she had.

"I think so, yes," Michael said without hesitation.

"Well, I'm glad I could help," she replied. She and Morris laughed, and after a moment Michael joined them. "Were you ever able to hone that ability into something more?" Jane asked after a few moments.

"A few times," Michael said. "I stood in front of a mirror and built up the ability over time. By the end, I could render myself invisible for about ten seconds. It was tough, though; it took a lot of concentration, but I was getting better. I never showed these things around my family. I kept it secret, so it was tough to practice, but I did really want to know more about it."

"You know, there is a suggestion here, guys," Morris said after a quiet moment had passed.

"What's that?" Jane asked.

"They don't know about you, Jane. They don't know about this advantage." Silence came over them again as this powerful information hung in the air between them.
CHAPTER 15 - CONTROL

CHAPTER 15

CONTROL

Jane spent the rest of the day with Morris, as Michael had elected to play video games with one of the other detainees, whom she had not been introduced to: Colin. She met him outside the cafeteria when she, Michael, and Morris descended the stairs. Jane found that he had a pleasant, quiet demeanor.

"Hi," he said to her, smiling and shaking her hand as he stood close to Morris.

"You're Colin, aren't you? It's nice to meet you. Where are you from?" she asked.

"New York."

"How did you end up in here?"

"Bad dreams," he said, and his smile faded.

Jane looked around at her new friends for clarification. "Is that all?" she asked, confused.

"I mean to say, I had night terrors, and...the ethereal effects that manifested in my dreams spread out into the environment around me. I was having a psychokinetic effect on my bedroom, the house, anything within thirty feet. I would wake up and things would be broken. One night it was really bad, and the night after that, I woke up and they were standing over my bed. I don't remember much after that."

"Sorry," she said.

"Your dreams are getting better, though, right?" Michael asked, placing a hand on Colin's back.

"Yes," Colin replied in a nervous tone, glancing at the ground.

They parted ways and Jane finally had the chance to visit the indoor garden at the front of the facility. She took off her white shoes as she stepped onto the transplanted grass. It was cool and prickly beneath her feet; she thought the sensation was wonderful.

She looked up at the oak tree, through its branches to the massive skylight as the slanted arcs beamed down from overhead. She closed her eyes and breathed in the intense aromas. It struck her as she looked around at the sights surrounding her: The garden was bursting with life. There were masses of exotic white flowers, orange blooms that looked like supernovas, and bushes of red roses so pristine that Jane thought for a moment they were artificial. They were completely real; the most real flowers she had ever seen.

She asked Morris about the garden's purpose. He told her that he had been informed about its recreation and rejuvenating properties. He said it had been placed here as a therapeutic device.

As Jane looked around, the same doubt stirred in her. Something about that explanation struck her as unlikely. The plants themselves spoke of this truth; they were too real—too alive—and the oak tree had a super-real quality to it as well. She and Morris stayed there for a time, sitting on a wooden bench at the back of the bright, green garden. They sat mostly in a silence interposed with relaxed conversation.

Jane's legs dangled beneath her as she listened to Morris tell her some scant details about his life. Mostly, she found herself staring upward towards the light, her eyes closed and the sun beaming through her eyelids. They left the arboretum after an hour, and she was left wondering what its real function could be in this place where she now found herself.

She went to sleep that night in her sterile white room, feeling afraid, missing her mother and pining for the sound of Max's voice. However, another part of her had come alive. She felt a fullness in every cell of her body, a fullness that had been absent for far too long. She found that Morris frequently entered her thoughts, and she liked to think about him. In a more faint manner, more distant, she thought of Max.

_Wherever you are, I hope you're well_ was the last thought she had before she drifted off to sleep.

***

Sometime later, voices entered her dreams. She was back home in her kitchen with her mother. Jane sat at the counter on a stool across from Nora and stared at her blankly. Her mother seemed to want to speak across the brief space separating them, but somehow they were too far apart to reach each other.

Then other voices penetrated this vision. Initially they came from down the hallway in her house; as she looked in that direction, the hallway door swung open and a bright white light erupted from beyond it.

Then Jane came to the realization that it wasn't a dream and these voices were real. She roused herself to consciousness, gasping for air, and sat up in her bed. She looked around at what was then still a new, alien environment. The corners of the dark room were stark, jagged, and still unknown to her. It was so unlike the kitchen of her home that she needed a moment to adjust. She focused intently on the night, sensing danger.

She forced her mind to go silent, focusing on the telepathic function as best as she could. She felt it come into alignment in her mind. Just when it did, she felt something. It was as though she had been hit in the face, but she had not. Suddenly frightened, and touched her hand to her cheek, continuing to focus and listen. The voices, muffled, penetrated her consciousness, and she suddenly wished she could turn off the weak telepathic signal.

_Morris...are you there?_ she asked in desperation. There was no response. _MORRIS_ , she screamed in her mind.

_What?_ came the groggy reply.

_Thank God,_ she thought. _Are you getting this? Can you hear this?_

_Wha—_

His thoughts dropped off as another series of screams filled her mind. Adrenaline flushed into her bloodstream. Reluctantly, she reached out further with her thoughts to find out who was being troubled. Her mind draped over the skin and hair on his arms as she learned who it was: Michael.

_It's Michael_ , she said, cringing. _What are they doing to him?_

_I don't know, but it doesn't sound good. Let's listen, see if we can hear._

Then, suddenly, an explosion of pain and thought: _I told you I can't do it! It was just that one time._

For a split second, the taste of blood filled Jane's mouth.

_Crap_ , she heard Morris say. _Do you think they're talking about..._

_What happened in the cafeteria? Yes, it sounds like it._

She returned to listening, her breath caught in her throat, knowing he was in pain. She focused again reluctantly. She could feel Michael; she could feel his fear. She latched onto that and used it as her center of gravity. Breathing heavily, she spread her focus into the surrounding area and found him—Lucas, standing over Michael.

_It's Lucas. He's hurting him, Morris._ Now she could feel Morris's own pain and anger. This mixed with the physical pain she was sensing from Michael and commingled with her own in a multicolored wash of emotion. _What can we—_

_There's nothing we can do, Jane. Just sit tight. He might hit him, but he's not going to do anything too serious._

A primal surge of anger rose in her as she felt her chest tighten. She gritted her teeth. She focused harder, then, using Michael as a tether, scanned the room he was in. There was another person there. It was a man. He had his hands in his pockets. As she scanned upward, she could make out his face, but just barely. She had the impression that he was orchestrating this encounter for some reason. They continued to hear the conversation clearly:

_Tell me how you do it._

_I don't know—I only did it that one time, I swear._

_You shouldn't be able to access your psionic abilities while the suppression field is active._

Jane's respiration increased as panic spread through her body.

_Is it the Irish girl, Jane? Is it something she's doing?_

She focused more intently at the mention of her name, the sound of it echoing in her mind, drawing her in further like a pool of gravity. People liked to hear their names spoken, but there was nothing in this utterance but darkness.

_No, it's nobody. It's just me. I swear... I don't know how I was able to do it that one time. I focused really hard. I just thought of it that second and I said to them...do you think we could bend light...you know, with psychokinetic force? And I saw...I saw that I could do it._

Mike paused, and Jane could sense the hesitation in the room.

_That's it, honestly,_ she heard him say. _And I don't know why it worked._

She listened to his convincing explanation and waited with shallow breaths to hear Lucas's response. Silence ensued, and she could sense Lucas—almost see him, in fact—staring down at Michael, who was sitting on a chair. Jane thought—or felt—that his hands were tied behind his back. She could feel the constriction spread over her wrists as she focused on this, and she turned away desperately, spreading her focus out again into the room.

_Morris?_ she asked.

_Yeah?_

_There's somebody else in the room._

_I know. I can see his face...just barely. I don't recognize him, Jane. I can almost get his name, though...begins with a D._

Jane listened again, then heard words that eased her concern greatly.

_Untie him. If you speak a word about this, there'll be further problems for you, Michael. Do you understand? Do you want to be in trouble? I've noticed you and Colin are '_ close' _, Michael. He could find himself in trouble as well._

Jane heard this as though Lucas were speaking directly to her. In her mind, she heard Michael gasp, and her own breath caught in her throat at the threat. She shook her head in disbelief. She frowned as she listened intently, then caught a brief, unexpected glimpse into Lucas's thoughts. It was just a momentary flash that she would have missed had she not been focusing directly on the situation: two frames out of twenty-four in a single second of film. It was an image of the ocean—flying above the water—as one might do if one were searching for something.

She opened her eyes wide as she realized what Morris had been referring to. There _was_ something in the water—something Lucas was looking for.

_No_ , Michael responded to Lucas in an exhausted fashion. Jane could feel him wanting to sob, but controlling the impulse. There were no tears, though she could feel the pain he was in.

_They're letting him go, Jane,_ Morris said.

_Yes, I know. Thank God._ She wiped tears from her eyes. The illusion she had lived in for the previous day shattered as she realized the reality of her situation: She was a prisoner, and Lucas was a dangerous man. She was completely locked out of her ethereal ability, apart from the weak telepathic communication she seemed to have with Morris. She had no special means with which to defend herself. As if sensing her concern, she heard Morris speaking in her mind again, this time with more authority.

_We'll have to find a way out of here. We have to pool our abilities, limited though they are, and do something. We have to reach someone for help or, failing that..._

_Deactivate the field, Morris. That's what we have to do. We have to deactivate the suppression field._ She felt every muscle in her body ripple with anger. _And then I'll do whatever it takes to put that bastard through a wall._

Morris didn't say anything else, though she could sense his agreement. A silence fell between them, but the telepathic connection stayed open.

_Morris?_ she asked after a moment. The connection to the other room and Michael's predicament was growing weaker, fading slowly from their awareness. This strange, multifaceted telepathic communication was like nothing Jane had ever experienced. It was as though their minds had been momentarily melded into one: a fluid trinity of thought and intent.

_Yes?_ he responded.

_What happened tonight that enabled us to see into that room?_

The answer came quickly. _I think it was the emotional intensity. I think he was reaching out for us unconsciously, and then we got drawn into it further because of his urgency. I think the faculty becomes more active during extreme fight-or-flight-type situations, which makes perfect sense from a survival perspective._

She could hear—almost feel—the pain in his chest at what they had just witnessed, and this made her eyes grow wet once again. What he had said resonated with her, though. She knew all too well that he was correct. The memory of the faded white lines on the road in front of her family as they had slipped out of the path of the car's headlights so many years ago came to her briefly, then it was gone once again as she forced it away. The image of the enormous dam that she felt was somewhere in her mind flashed before her and she gasped.

She glanced at the crystalline butterfly on her desk and was glad—though also surprised—that they had let her keep it. It still glinted, even in the darkness. She stood up and dashed across her room to retrieve it. Then she lay back on her bed and clutched it in one hand, tracing the fingers of her other hand over its surface. It made her think of Max: the most comforting image that could have possibly entered her mind in that moment.

It was easier not to think about the accident after all this time. She preferred not to as well. She had the irrational fear that if she thought about it, she might access that same level of God-like power again—the power to levitate an entire car. The fear said to her: _What would happen then, Jane? The world would fall out from beneath you as you spiraled out of control._

She clutched the butterfly more tightly and turned off the memory, as she had become so adept at doing her entire life since the accident. She tuned back into the present moment.

_We better get some sleep, Jane,_ she heard Morris say. The sound of his voice was becoming more muted.

_Yes,_ she replied _, okay_ , although she was reluctant to let go.

She could sense, delicately, like a filament, Morris's breathing. She was not completely aware, on a conscious level at least, that she was doing this—that there was a growing closeness between them—as she felt the muscles beneath his skin and the pulse in his veins. She fell asleep like that, with the gentle hum of his mind radiating next to hers.

_In her dreams, she saw her mother again. Nora was standing in her room, silhouetted against the light from the doorway to her en-suite bathroom. Jane could smell the aromas: talc, perfume, and fresh laundry. Her mother was wearing her jacket, and suitcases were on her bed with clothes strewn over them._

_"Where are you going, Mom?" Jane asked, concerned._

Jane's stomach lurched as she woke up gasping, wondering about the dream and feeling concern for her mother. She took a few deep breaths and wiped the sweat off her brow. Her hand automatically went to her stomach in a comforting gesture. She began to feel the quickening breath, the familiar feelings of panic, when Max entered her mind—a clear image of him standing on the beach with the morning sun glaring behind him.

_He'll keep her safe somehow,_ she thought, and her body relaxed as she knew this to be true. She was glad for that at least. Her thoughts then turned to Michael and his wellbeing. She got up and showered in the bathroom facilities at the front of the small room. She dried off and changed, taking one of the many packets of identical white attire from the shelf and opening it.

The door opened on an automatic locking mechanism at exactly eight o'clock a.m. She put on her shoes and looked to her left as several of the others exited their rooms. She smiled at them as they walked past and remembered some of their names—Ciara and Colin. Knowing now that Colin and Michael may be involved, she had particular sympathy for him as he passed, but she concealed it, not knowing if he was aware yet of what had happened.

Jane had a particularly good impression of Ciara, who said hello to her and smiled as she passed in the hallway. Jane had been introduced to her, but hadn't yet talked to her properly. Sophia passed by her room last and kept her eyes to the ground as she went by.

When Morris still hadn't shown himself, Jane went to his room to check on him. He was coming out just as she approached the door. They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, then he slowly placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. They embraced, and she was glad to feel the warmth of his body next to hers. She reached up and placed her hands slowly over the back of his shoulders, gripping them tightly, no longer afraid. After a moment, they turned and walked in silence down the corridor and through the door to the stairway that led to the cafeteria on the upper level.

She and Morris were served food. They sat at the same table they had used on the previous day and began to eat. They looked up from their food now and then, their sad, somewhat frightened expressions communicating everything they needed to share.

"Is he okay, Morris?" she finally asked, exhaling.

"I think he is..." Morris trailed off and looked to his right, over her shoulder.

Jane turned and followed his gaze. Michael had entered the room. His face was bruised and he had received medical attention. There was a white stitch across his right eyelid. His other eye was bruised and his cheek was cut. Jane gasped when she saw him and resisted the urge to stand up and run to him.

She knew now that they were being watched, although she had checked the ceiling for cameras when she had entered. The technological capabilities of the world they now lived in were extensive and ever-growing, and it was clear now that the facility's staff was using these devices to their full extent. Wherever the surveillance equipment was hidden, it was completely invisible.

She watched Mike get some food from the counter and limp over to their table. Rodriguez stood in the corner with his hands on his hips, watching his every move. Colin stared at him open-mouthed from the back of the room, speechless. Mike looked back at him and nodded. Jane could read the meaning: _I'm okay._

Jane winced as she realized that his leg was also injured. The limp didn't seem that bad, and she was thankful for that. As Michael approached with a tray, she stood and helped him, taking the food and placing it on the metallic table next to hers. She put her arms around him, and a tear fell down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Michael."

"It's fine. He got me, but he won't get me again." Michael looked at both of them. "I could feel you listening...both of you."

"Of course," Morris said as he stood next to Michael. His voice was cool, but underneath it, Jane could detect a palpable sadness and deep concern. Morris hugged him tightly then, and they sat down opposite each other. Jane sat next to Michael on his outside at the edge of the metallic bench.

"No, it's fine. I'm so glad you guys were there—in spirit, anyway. I could hear you speaking to each other. It was...amazing. It was like you were there with me, standing behind me. It gave me the strength to look right into his eyes and lie to him." Michael looked down at his food for a moment as he went quiet.

"Well, I'm glad we could help," Morris said.

Michael turned back to Jane. "Jane, none of this happened before you came. We weren't able to speak to each other through the field like that. The connections were never this strong." His voice cracked with a strained, hoarse tone.

"Maybe you just never tried," she responded.

"No, I did. I definitely tried," Morris said.

"Same here; I couldn't get a signal like this before. It was like dead electrical equipment. Whatever you've brought to the table, it's given us something we didn't have before," Michael added. He looked around briefly before continuing. "I really think we have a good chance of getting out of here now," he whispered, hope filling his voice.

Jane looked to Morris for a sign that he agreed; he nodded discreetly. She had taken time to think about this, and she thought she knew what they were talking about. There was a switch in her mind that had been undiscovered until she met them. She hovered over it in her mind's eye now. It was as though she were standing above an electrical box with a flashlight, afraid to trip the switch with the unfounded fear that the electricity would flow through her, firing her across the darkened space only to slam into a wall.

"I think it's a small difference," Mike continued, "but we can communicate with each other now. We can orchestrate in a way we weren't able to before. Lucas is smart, but he sort of has a stupid side to him as well. We can _outthink_ him."

Jane and Morris exchanged glances. Morris nodded at her in agreement, and she found herself doing the same.

"We'll need a plan," Morris said.

The three of them fell into silence. Jane considered the implications of what they were talking about and found herself truly excited at the prospect of leaving. They picked at their food.

"We shouldn't talk about it here," she said, and the three of them exchanged glances.

_Can you hear me?_

Jane heard Morris's voice in her mind—not too clearly, but audibly.

_Yes,_ she replied _. But it's not very clear. For some reason, it's not as audible here. The field must be stronger over on this side of the facility. It's weaker where the sleeping quarters are._

She glanced at Rodriguez, but he was not looking at them. He was scanning the cafeteria with little interest. Colin was still looking at their table from the front section of the cafeteria, an expression of extreme concern on his face.

_Well, we can communicate like this. And who knows, if...when...we make it outside..._

"What?" Jane asked out loud, then smiled. "Sorry, lack of practice."

Morris grinned back at her. _Well_ , he continued, _if you're enhancing our abilities somehow, there's no telling what we can do once we're out. We'll be able to protect ourselves. I mean, if they were to come looking for us, together, maybe we'd have the upper hand._

She looked at him doubtfully. _Do you really think it's that big of an effect?_

_Yes, I think so,_ he replied.

Jane secretly reveled in this new advantage and the fact that she had provided it, even though it made her somewhat nervous. They continued eating, but the peace that had come over them was broken by Lucas, who appeared in the main entrance on the other side of the room.

"Jane Connor," he yelled, louder than necessary.

She jerked her head around, shocked, then her eyes quickly narrowed into slits. She looked in his eyes and didn't falter.

"What?" Her gruff reply echoed loudly across the room, and Lucas recoiled just a millimeter at her cold reply. It was almost unnoticeable, but the gauntlet was set and fused between them in that moment.

"Come with me."

Jane turned around and looked at her friends. She stood up slowly and felt Morris's hand trail the top of hers as she left. She walked away surrounded by a beautiful warmth he had left with her. She was glad for this. As she walked, she heard Michael's voice in her head. Its volume diminished as the distance between them grew, but the urgency of the moment let her hear him clearly once again.

_He's taking you to the testing room. He already suspects something's different about you. Don't let him find out about any of this..._

_I know. It's okay._ She looked over her shoulder at Morris and Michael as she walked out of the room. Their faces bore expressions of agonized concern, but it felt good to be cared for. _I can take care of myself,_ she said, then followed Lucas out the door.

She continued following him out of the cafeteria, down the stairs and into the brightly lit white corridor. They took a left and walked towards the main corridor, where the arboretum was. Then they turned right and walked past the guard station, which was on their left behind a thick metal railing.

Jane did not walk near him, but trailed behind by about five feet. She followed Lucas down the other end of the corridor and through a door. She took note of the locking mechanism as he swiped his wrist across it.

They walked through the door, and Jane saw another, darker corridor made of concrete. Down its length were several doors; they entered through the second one. Inside was a rectangular room that measured about twenty square feet. The walls were bare white, and the only two objects of any significance were a large table, which occupied the center, and a reflective panel of glass that stretched along the wall to her right. The glass was about three feet in height.

In the center of the table sat a bowl filled with marbles, a set of Jenga blocks, cards, and a baseball. Jane noticed that the table itself appeared to have digital controls embedded into its surface. It was obviously an expensive piece of equipment.

"Sit down, please," Lucas said from behind her. She turned and looked at him, defiant and unafraid. She walked to the other side of the table and took a seat. She looked to her left and attempted to project her thoughts outward to see through the reflective glass that stretched the length of the wall, but found that she couldn't.

_They haven't turned the field down yet. Wait,_ she thought as Lucas took out a file and began leafing through it, taking a seat across the table from her. Between them was the set of unusual objects. She stared at him as he produced a file of papers attached with a paper clip. He looked up and caught her looking at him.

"I like hard copies," he said, smiling. Apparently he thought he could easily win her allegiance.

She smiled back at him sardonically. "How's your shoulder, Lucas?"

His smile faded and he went back to looking at the file, retracting the invisible hand he had stretched to her. The message in her question was clear: _If it weren't for that dampening field, you'd be in trouble._ She returned her attention to the window on her left. She saw him look up at her dismissively, then return to the document. After a moment, he set the document aside and began to manipulate the controls on the digital surface of the table.

Below her, the surface came to life. She was faced with a series of input controls and various grids marked by green lines. She had never seen this specific technology. Lucas flicked his hand forward across the surface of the table, and she watched as an image flew across the surface towards her.

"Tell me about this, please, Jane," he said. The image settled into a grid on her left. She looked at him for a moment, then looked down at the image. It was a collage of pictures of their old car, showing shots of the damage that had been done after her rescue ten years ago.

A flash: the teddy bear.

_No!_ she thought, and winced visibly. She composed herself and looked back up at him. "It looks like an old car to me."

He exhaled loudly, exasperated, then smiled again. "I think you know well that this is your old family car. As I understand it, although your mother would protest this version of events, your father drove your car right off a cliff, and you used your supernormal abilities to stop the car from falling into the valley below. Would that be correct?"

She looked to her left at the window, ignoring him and casting her thoughts once again to the glass and what was on the other side. Still, she could see nothing. She looked back at him and pursed her lips in an apathetic fashion.

"This... _Ethereal Vision_...is a problem for us."

"Why?"

"Because it presents an uncontrollable element in society. A dangerous element. I know that you have immense psychokinetic ability, Jane. I'm sure you've noticed that there is a certain aspect of this facility that prevents you from accessing that. It blocks the brainwave pattern that allows that energy to flow. It's something we would like to understand. So we're going to allow you access to some of that ability in this room only. This area has been specifically designed to allow a small amount of access. If you're thinking of using it to escape, don't bother. The people behind that window to your left can turn the field back on in a microsecond."

She wondered what it was about this room in particular that allowed them to drop the field. She looked around, searching as discreetly as possible so as not to attract his attention. If she could find that out, it might help them figure out how to disable it entirely.

While she was thinking of this, she felt it suddenly—the field dropped, just a little. A tiny spark of excitement ran through her automatically. She looked down at the basket of marbles instinctively and tested it. They jiggled slightly as she tugged at them. Lucas noticed this and smiled.

"I see you've noticed the field has diminished somewhat, Jane. Go ahead if you'd like. We'd like to see how you use this ability."

"Why?"

"To stop it, to learn how to control it, and to stop people like you by better means in the future if it proves necessary."

What she had discussed with Morris previously came back to her now, along with the strange feeling that there was something missing from the picture. This ineffable thing was still just out of her reach, but she could feel it becoming clearer now.

"What's your last name, Lucas? I don't want to be on a first-name basis with you," she said, her tone blank and expressionless. She saw his face drop, and he sighed.

"Johnson."

"Okay, Mr. Johnson, that doesn't make any sense. The psychokinetic faculty has been documented and studied in depth by the world's leading scientists. What could you possibly hope to gain by this?" She saw him hesitate for a second before he responded.

"We want to test your level of ability, and these people in the room next to us can do that quite easily if you'd be so kind as to cooperate and—"

"You're lying." The word echoed around the room. It was as though she had brought down a sledgehammer on the table in front of them and somewhere, on an unconscious level, the balance had shifted.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You're looking for something, aren't you?"

He fell back against his chair as his mouth dropped open briefly in surprise. He closed it quickly, and a flash of anger flicked across his face. He pursed his lips and sat up on the computer terminal again. He began manipulating the controls. This time, he swiped a digital A4-size document over to her. It flew in an oblong fashion across the length of the table and stopped at her section of the terminal, sectioning into the space in front of her again.

When she saw the picture, her mouth dropped open and she froze. It was her father in a sunlit country somewhere, having just opened the door of his car and stepped out. He had one leg on the lower doorframe, and his arm was resting on the roof. Jane was smiling from the passenger seat, and she was younger—much younger than she had been during the accident, maybe five years old. His hair was jet black. There had been a few noticeable streaks of gray in it when he...

_No. Please, not now._ She heard the sound of the motorcycle engine blaring somewhere in the distance of her memories. In the background was a late-summer sky, gray with flecks of pristine gold arcs that shone through the clouds: in her memory, a doorway to heaven.

"Your father left when you were eight years old, is that correct?"

A minute trembling ran down her torso and into her hands as her breathing turned shaky. "Yes, that's right," she found herself replying unwillingly, looking up at him again. There was a long pause as Jane stared down at the digital documents in front of her.

Lucas shifted in his seat. "What happened?" The marbles moved in the bowl, just slightly. Lucas did not notice.

"That's not your business," she replied flatly.

He looked through the documents in front of him again. "I know that the incident with the car crash involved an extreme manifestation of ethereal ability—you don't have to verify that for me." He looked up at her and lifted a digital pen from the desk, tapping it against his chin. "The question is..." He looked at the reflective glass on his right, nodding almost imperceptibly towards it. "The question is...what happened...exactly?" He paused again. "And why did your father leave?"

She took a deep breath and looked up at him, fighting a swirling mass of dark memories that she had never faced. She gritted her teeth and could feel the power trembling beneath, wanting a way out. Instead, she composed herself and turned up to face him. Her expression became steel-like once again.

"I know what you're trying to do," she responded finally.

Lucas's smug facial expression disappeared. The spell was broken. The marbles and the other items in the room remained motionless. He glared at her and then exhaled gruffly. He deactivated the digital terminal on the desk, and the display in front of her went blank. He was turning to the reflective glass once again when she seized her opportunity.

She stood up, knocking the chair to the floor, and focused on the marbles. She managed, with great effort, to grasp three of them. They rose into the air haphazardly, swirling around each other as they floated out of the bowl. Lucas watched in awe.

They hovered for a moment as Jane focused on them. Then her head jerked to the left as she sent them rocketing straight into the reflective glass. A crash echoed across the room, and large sections of glass fell to the floor and shattered. Jane took no notice as she gripped the desk and took every second she had to reach out with her remaining power and scan the room beyond. She saw a simple room with computer terminals and banks of servers and hard drives. Various machines were positioned across the rectangular space. Three technicians stared at her, motionless in their shock.

Lucas was screaming, but she was concentrating too fiercely to hear him.

"TURN IT BACK ON!" he was shouting, and she finally heard this clearly.

She saw one of the technicians jump to life and operate one of the terminals in front of him. She doubled over and felt the familiar nausea overcome her as the field was once again turned on.

Lucas stood up and stared down at her for a moment. The meeting was clearly over. "Get out of here," he said, breathing erratically.

She stood and walked towards the door.

"You're confined to your room for the next twenty-four hours."

She didn't stop as he said this, simply leaving through the door and closing it behind her. In the cool, dark hallway, she was deeply grateful for the opportunity to lean against the doorframe and close her eyes.

Lucas had come close to touching something inside her. She wasn't sure what it was, but it terrified her. She had thought herself invulnerable to him, but now she wondered. A new fear of him lurked in her mind.

She began to breathe deeply and tried to calm herself. After a few moments, she felt better. She was about to leave when she heard Lucas slam his fist on the desk behind the door and emit a muffled "Damn." She thought she heard the sound of cracking glass.

_There goes a hundred thousand dollars,_ she thought, and nearly laughed, but didn't. She forced herself to move, but stopped when she heard him yelling from inside.

"Did we get what we need?" He was obviously speaking to the people in the room that had been hidden behind the reflective glass. She thought she could hear a faint "no" coming from the room.

She looked up at the lights and decided it was time to start moving, lest he come out of the room. She made her way back to her own room—the locks opening automatically this time—and went inside. After a few moments, the door slid shut with a heavy metallic clank, thanks to Lucas, no doubt. She imagined him in a room somewhere, watching her and waiting for her to walk inside so that he could lock her in. She turned down the dimmer switch as far as it would go, took off her shoes, and lay on the sterile bed.

She tried to relax as she thought about what she had seen when she broke the glass. She had caught a glimpse of what was happening in the room beyond, but only a glimpse: a few images from one of the technician's minds. They had been fragmentary, but she had just enough information to understand how the suppression system was set up and how it worked. Perhaps, with her new friends and some luck, she would be able to break her way through it.

As she drifted off to sleep, she thought of Lucas and whatever information he seemed so desperate to find. She thought of Max too, and realized that he _had_ omitted vital information from his explanations as well. She remembered the dream from her youth and the figure he had been, standing over her and appearing cyclopean: some mesmerizing, beautiful giant. Even then, she had known. She had known there was something else going on behind the scenes. Now she felt that, for the first time, she was being exposed to it.

Later, she dreamed that she was on the beach in Wexford, the place she had always felt most at home; it was the irreplaceable object from a long-forgotten youth. The sea was a layer of cold, reflective glass in front of her, but behind her, over the dunes, the clouds grew dark, and she could hear thunder in the distance. It was not the thunder of an approaching storm, but something entirely different: something ominous and beyond her ability to comprehend.

Chapter 16 — Apparition

Nora returned to Dublin and went straight to her house. She had no idea what to do. Jack had her sit on the sofa in her living room as he made tea. She and Jack had searched the area for hours, but had not been able to find any trace of Jane. After this period of looking for her daughter, a quiet sureness had come over Nora that she should return to Dublin; it seemed obvious that Jane had been captured by the men pursuing her, and Nora knew of nothing else to do but return home.

She didn't know where the men had taken Jane, but rumors suggested that the main facilities were located in Paris, the United States, and Hong Kong. Lucas was American, but in the distant memory from all those years ago, she could not recall him giving her specific details that she could use to her advantage.

Nora had been sitting slouched over the sofa, seconds away from crying again, when she heard a heavy _thud_ from the kitchen. Her head jerked in that direction. At the same time, the lamps in the living room flickered dramatically. After a few seconds, the bulb in the tall antique lamp in the far left corner of the room exploded, sending shards of glass flying into the air. Nora jumped to her feet and ran from the room towards the kitchen.

When she entered, she found that the lights were out, and Jack was lying motionless on the floor below her. She yelled his name as she knelt to check whether he was okay. She turned his body over, listening for his breathing; she could hear the steady flow of air. She leaned back and looked at him again but could see no obvious sign of injury. The only thing she could think of was the first-aid kit she had stored in her bathroom upstairs, and the smelling salts it contained, so she moved to retrieve it. She dashed from the kitchen and bounded up the stairs, running down the long, dark hallway to the guest bathroom.

Inside, she opened the cupboards and emptied their contents onto the floor. It wasn't there. She remembered then that she had stored the salts in her own bedroom and ran back down the hall towards it. Halfway down the hallway, the lights overhead flickered once again. She came to a complete stop as her heart leapt inside her chest. She slowly looked up at the lights in the ceiling. Now, along with the strange flickering, she could hear the sound of electrical buzzing that flowed inside the circuitry: a sound that did not belong there.

Nora looked to her bedroom door, only ten feet away, and slowly began walking towards it. As she did—and looking at the darkness of her room beyond—a feeling came over her that something profoundly unusual was happening. She stopped again, only five feet away now, and realized that she had experienced these feelings already today. It was the same sensation she had experienced on the beach earlier that morning.

After Jane had scrambled away on the bike, Nora and Jack had run to the beach to see if they could help in some way, but they had found nothing. There was no trace of the men who had been pursuing them, and her daughter was gone. All they found was the bike Jane had left there, stashed in the bushes atop the first dune on the right side.

There was a second thing she had seen. She had resigned herself to leaving with Jack and searching elsewhere, but something drew her to the precipice. As she reached the top, she looked down into the distance. At first, she saw nothing as she scanned to the left and right of the silvery line that ran down the shore. Then she saw him, just as she was about to turn away, and she flinched and looked back. There was a man standing in the distance, perhaps three or four hundred feet away. He appeared to be dressed in black and was standing right on the shoreline.

She shivered as she set eyes on him. The odd feelings he evoked in her were otherworldly. Strangely, he reminded her of a feeling she sometimes experienced when Jane was around and something happened. There was, at these times, the feeling of a door opening and a distant and unknown—but beautiful—light shining through. She knew, without even a second of consideration, that this man did not belong there. _Figment_ was the word that came to mind. He seemed to be out of time and out of place. A semblance of memory had come over her then of something far in the distance: something long forgotten.

She didn't want to think about this strange figure or the otherworldly feelings he evoked in her, but they came back to her now as she once again approached the door of her bedroom. She looked around the corner into the room, then crossed the threshold of the door, feeling as though she had been pulled into it.

She stepped forward only to stop in the center between her bed—which was in the far corner of the room—and the door behind her. The room was freezing, and she could see her breath in front of her. She had turned the heating on when she arrived home. Now, though, she began to shiver.

She looked around the room slowly, as it seemed to have altered in her absence. It was darker, and there now seemed to be tendrils of mist flowing through it. She experienced a sensation of movement as her thoughts swirled with images from the past. The name came into her mind before she had a chance to form any other conscious thoughts: _Max_.

That was the name her daughter had mentioned during one of the nights after the accident when they had stayed up drinking cocoa and watching...what was it? _Bug something_... _doesn't matter now_. _Why am I thinking about_ — _oh my God, there's somebody else here_! _Oh, holy_ —

She turned slowly to her left to see the tall, beautiful man sitting in the chair in the corner of her room. Her breath caught in a half gasp as her heart rate jumped, but she could not move, could not take her eyes off him. He gazed out at her from strange, glacial eyes. Somehow she found the nerve to speak.

"You're Max, aren't you?" Her words echoed flatly in the still void of space her bedroom seemed to have become. She was aware on some level that it was an illusion—that her mind was doing its best to comprehend the information she was receiving.

"Yes," he replied simply. His voice was firm and confident, but there was a sweetness to it that made Nora's body ease a little, and her muscles unclenched. Then she said something that she had not prepared for.

"Thank you for your help—all those years ago."

"I was just doing what I could to protect Jane."

She suddenly became aware of the fact that they were frozen somehow, as though time itself had stopped.

"I'm not supposed to be here," he said in a gentle, earnest voice.

She found she understood him quite well. His words echoed in her mind softly, but she could hear them audibly too. It was a surreal yet beautiful experience.

"Why not?" she asked. Then she answered her own question. "You mean you're not supposed to be in our world...interfering." _How do I know that?_ she wondered.

"That's right," he replied. "But I think it's okay for now. This particular incident has become the focus of attention for...a power that is greater than either of us."

She couldn't imagine an entity more powerful, more present in the universe than him. It was as though his personality radiated from the mirage of a body he presented to her. She could feel it as it permeated the room around her, as though it were something tangible. She could sense previously dormant parts of herself come alive now in some strange, unknown fashion. As she communicated with this being, her mind was opening, her awareness expanding in a way she had never before experienced. There was a glow in the center of her chest that had begun to radiate outward, and now it surrounded her body. She wanted to drift off, away from his gaze, and explore this new, beautiful awareness, but she didn't have time for that. This man—this being—might know where her daughter was. This fact kept her grounded in the moment like a solid weight.

"Why did you..." she said, and hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Why did you come to us?"

"Your world is at a pivotal point in its historical process. When Jane lifted your car, the spike it created on the plane where I exist was like an explosion—greater than anything that had come from your world before. I noticed it, of course. That is one of my functions: to monitor the development of cultures that are standing on the brink of these evolutionary processes. But I saw that Jane had also, unfortunately, attracted the notice of other parties whose intentions would not be as benign. So I decided to...intervene." He paused and looked into her eyes, then continued. "Which was not a decision I took lightly. It's like interfering with a flower before it has fully bloomed. Do you understand, Nora?"

She was surprised to find that she did, and nodded at him.

"However," he continued, "there's not much I can do, as I am, in this...form," he said, raising his arms and gesturing towards his body. "But taking human form requires a lot of energy. So I have to choose the right moment. At present, I am limited in the ways I can help."

She considered what he had said. Only one question came to mind. "What are you if you're not human? How did you get your name?" She could still hear, as though in the far distance, the muted sound of electrical buzzing from the lights in the hallway.

He looked at her for a moment without responding. Everything had fallen silent. There was no traffic outside even though there should have been at six o'clock. She wondered briefly how that was possible. The entire scene had a sticky quality to it; it was as though the earth itself had slowed in its motion. She focused hard and pulled herself back to the present moment.

"I was human once. I had a human existence. Max was the name I took, and when I left humanity behind, it seemed as apt as any, so I kept it." He paused and his face seemed to shimmer for a second.

Nora thought she could see regret in the new lines that formed on his face.

"I and others like me are the end product of various races that have existed across the universe throughout the eons: the ultimate product of their evolutionary processes."

Nora thought she could hear a little bit of regret in his voice now. She didn't say anything for a moment; she just looked at him. His coat was beautiful. She thought that she had never seen a garment so magnificent in her life. It closed around him perfectly, like a mirage or a veil of the most perfect material she had ever seen. Golden clasps fastened it to the left side of his torso, and it fell over his crossed right leg at an oblique angle.

"Where is Jane?" she asked, her voice firm.

"They've taken her to a facility in New York. I know your instinct is to travel to that location, but I've appeared to you here, now, to dissuade you from taking any such course of action. Also, I made a promise to Jane to make sure you're kept informed of what is happening."

"Okay, but...what are they going to do to her?"

"Well..."

She saw him hesitate, more so than before, as he seemed to actually struggle with what he had to say to her.

His body and face seemed to shimmer again just slightly as he gathered his thoughts. "It's hard to explain," he said finally.

"Try, please," she said.

"You see...they want something."

"Something?"

There was that hesitation again. She found she was losing her patience a little bit. "Max..." she said curtly, tilting her head to the side.

"This isn't just about people, Nora. There's a tangible object that has come into play—something that has been on your world for a long time. It's only recently that they've become aware of its existence, and they're falling over each other trying to get control of it. It seems they believe Jane could be the key."

"What is it?" she asked.

"That's beyond the scope of this discussion."

She looked down at the floor, trying to ignore the impatience growing inside her. "Okay," she said. "Is what they believe about her true? Is she the key to finding this... _thing_?"

"Yes."

"So she's in danger then?"

He paused briefly before answering again. "Yes."

She felt fear grip her as the image of Jane's face flashed into her mind. She thought that she could hear thunder somewhere at a vast distance, as though in another world.

"Don't worry. I won't let it come to that."

"I have to go. I have to try to find her."

He stood up, and as he did, the room seemed to move with him. She heard the floorboards creak and heave beneath her. For a second, it seemed as though the image of the room was represented to her at an oblong angle. She automatically took a step back. _Illusion. It's an illusion,_ she thought automatically, though she knew this was only partially true. Max was having some kind of physical effect on the room, if only in a small way, and, she thought, unintentionally. She felt as though she were standing in the presence of some kind of electric colossus.

He gazed at her from eyes as deep as any memory she could ever recall. Looking into them gave her the sense that she was looking into time itself, infinitude. A memory came to her, through his eyes, of her father lifting her into his arms, smiling widely. The warmth of that embrace spread through her veins, and her cells beamed with light. She gasped almost inaudibly in the dark.

The memories continued to flow. Now she could tell she wasn't seeing the past, but the present. She was looking at other people around the world like her daughter. She saw them in their houses, under bridges, lighting fires with their thoughts to keep warm. She saw them pulling psychic tricks to stay off the streets. Then the tide of images began to shift and she saw a presence—someone darker, someone desperate, an entity of immense psychic ability. She saw further, beyond that, and her eyes grew wide at a tremendously bright vision of the universe: images of indescribable beauty, far beyond her comprehension.

She let out a startled breath as she was given a brief glimpse at the enormity of what her daughter had been drawn into. She looked away from his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When she looked back up, he smiled at her. His eyes did not hold that same depth now, but were nonetheless filled with warmth.

"Do you see, Nora? Do you understand what could happen if you go?"

"Yes."

"There are other forces at play..." he said, and paused. "You would be in very serious danger."

"I can see that now, yes." She walked to her bed and sat down. "You know the location of the facility, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, but it's heavily guarded." He walked over to her and stood in front of her. "Don't worry," he said, and smiled again.

She stared at the odd yet beautiful scepter in his right hand. She hadn't noticed it before. _Did he have it before?_ she wondered. She thought he had not.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes." She trusted this being with all her heart. She had trusted him from the moment she laid eyes on him, not just in her room, but from a three-hundred-foot distance, back on the beach, on the shore below. She could sense the warmth coming back into the room. Distantly, as though from another world, she heard a car horn. Max was stepping backward; his presence was fading. The remaining daylight was returning through the window on the left.

"Will you do something to help her? I know..." she struggled, trying to find the words through her desperation as he disappeared. "I know you're good, I can feel it. _I know you're powerful_. There must be something you can do."

Then he did something that she thought oddly human and somehow inhuman at the same time: He tipped his hat to her, as though he had walked straight out of another century.

"I will tip my hand to these people if and when the time is right, and don't worry; _they'll know all about it when I do_. In the meantime, I'll watch Jane from a distance and try to communicate with her."

The room was once again filling with light and heat, the mist evaporating. An arc of clear sunlight came through her window and she could clearly hear the traffic outside. She glanced at the window, distracted by the noise, then looked back.

He was gone.

It was as though there had been a power cut across the city and electricity had just been restored. The world whizzed to life again in front of her like a movie that had transitioned from slow motion to a regular pace. She turned around and stared at the now-vacant chair for a moment, noticing that her heart was actually beating in her chest and that her breathing was rapid. She sat there, listening to the sounds of the world as they once again flooded her awareness.

"Nora?" She heard Jack's strained voice call to her from below. She stood immediately to check on him. She had only one thought as she exited her room and descended the stairs: She wasn't going anywhere, and her daughter's protection now lay in Max's hands.
CHAPTER 17 - SIREN

CHAPTER 17

SIREN

Morris and Michael smiled at Jane the next day as she entered the cafeteria. Morris stood and hugged her. She hesitated at first, then locked her arms around his neck, finding that she needed the embrace. He pulled away and examined her face intently. He reached up and placed his hand under her chin, holding her face to the side.

"I'm fine. He didn't touch me."

"He should be glad of that." They sat together next to Michael. Morris had already selected breakfast foods for Jane and pushed the tray over to her.

"So what happened?" Michael asked.

Morris continued to stare at her, his concerned expression remaining on his face.

She regarded them both. "He tried to get me to use my abilities." She thought about it for a moment. "You were right: I think he _is_ looking for something."

"What did he do, Jane?" Michael asked, apprehensive.

"He pushed me. He asked me questions about my father. Things I wouldn't have expected him to ask me about in a million years. There were things on the table: marbles, Jenga blocks, cards, and a baseball. Did they have those things when you were there?"

"Yes," Morris replied immediately. "I couldn't do much with them, though. I just rolled the marbles around a bit. I could lift some of them, but it took a lot of concentration. They obviously didn't turn the field down very much."

"Well, he was prepared, and he knew exactly what to say and...I don't know what's going to happen if he takes me in there again," she said, looking down at the food in front of her.

"So did you do anything? Did you use your abilities at all?" Morris asked.

"Not at first, but before the field went back up I used some of the marbles to break the glass on the wall."

Morris leaned back in his chair. "I couldn't have done that. I could barely roll them around the table without getting a headache," he said, shaking his head in amazement.

"I was able to see through to the room on the other side of the glass. It was hard to concentrate, but I got a few glimpses into what was going on. I know a few things about how the dampening field works."

Morris and Michael looked at each other, then turned back to her, leaning in closer.

"Tell us," Michael said excitedly.

"It's scattered throughout the complex. It's not just one object we're dealing with; it's multiple devices, I think five or six of them that work for each specific section. There's one main device that's generating the field, and the others are scattered throughout the other sections. They're more like carriers or extenders. They don't generate the field."

"That must be why we can get a telepathic signal in some places, but not others. That's why there are gaps," Morris added.

"Exactly," said Michael. "Is there a way to take them down?"

"Well, we shouldn't be going for the secondary devices; they only extend the range," Jane replied.

"Where's the main device? The one that generates the field?"

"I'm not too sure. I tried to locate it, but I couldn't."

"We have to find it," Morris said.

"We'll need to bring the others in on this too," Michael added.

The three of them looked around at the tables. Sophia and Colin were seated at the far end of the room, while Joel, Carl, and Ciara were sitting at a table near them. Carl and Joel looked up at them from time to time.

Jane turned back around. "Yes, we're going to need everyone's help. We'll have to pool our abilities," she said. "Where in the facility is the signal weakest, do you think?"

"The arboretum," Michael answered without hesitation.

"Okay, we'll go there—the three of us. We can scan the area together and try to find it. Do you think if you guys are sitting next to me we'll have enough power between the three of us to scan the area?"

They looked at each other. "With you there? Yes," Morris answered. "It won't be easy pushing through the field, but if we try hard enough, I think we should be able to."

"What are we going to do if we manage to turn it off?" Michael asked as his brow furrowed. He glanced between them both.

"We're getting the heck out of here!" Morris replied.

"What I mean is, what about the guards? And the employees, even—a lot of them are armed."

"With all of us working together we can create enough fireworks to scare them. It will be enough for them to evacuate before us, and once we're outside we'll be able to protect ourselves. I doubt any of them are paid enough to risk their lives over anything going on in here."

"And when we get to the surface?" Jane asked.

"We'll be fine," Morris said. "I can drive. Ciara can influence somebody to give us a car if she has to; I know she's good at that kind of thing. She told me before. I know it's not a good thing to do, but under the circumstances, I'm not too concerned about it." He looked to them for agreement.

"Or we just take one of theirs. Can any of the others drive?" Jane asked, looking over her shoulder again.

"We'll deal with that later," Morris answered.

"They'll resist us leaving," Michael said.

"I know," Jane replied as she turned back around to face them. "I'm anticipating that fully."

They left the cafeteria, and on their way through the main hallway, Carl and Joel approached from behind.

"Hey," Carl called out to them.

They turned around. Jane had not been introduced to either of the two yet; she regarded them as they approached at a light jog.

"Hi, you're Jane, aren't you? I'm Carl." He was tall and well built with longish sandy-blond hair. Jane took his hand as he extended it. "This is Joel," he said, and Jane took his hand too. Joel was also tall, with a slimmer, more lithe frame, and unkempt, spiky black hair. Jane guessed they were both her age or slightly older.

"Nice to meet you," she replied, smiling as she took both of their hands in turn.

"You're planning something, aren't you?" Carl asked as he looked at the three of them.

Morris exchanged a glance with Jane before answering. "Yes, we do have an idea, but we're not sure about it just yet, guys. We want to keep it as low profile as possible. Don't tell any of the others about it for now."

"Okay," Carl said. "What are you going to do?"

The three of them hesitated, and a momentary silence followed.

"Let's not talk about it here. In fact, I don't know where it's safe to talk about it," Morris said, lowering his voice to a near whisper. A technician walked behind them in the hallway in front of the arboretum. She was working on a tablet, and she looked up briefly as she passed. They stared at the ground, avoiding her gaze until she was out of sight.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Carl said. "But you let us in on this soon, okay? If you've got some kind of plan in the works, we want to know about it, and we want to help."

"Sure," Michael replied.

Joel was staring at Michael now. "Did he do that to you?" he asked.

Michael hesitated. "Yes," he replied.

Joel shook his head as he stared at Michael's wounds. "Why?" he asked and looked at Carl. "What's changed? Has he completely lost his mind?"

"Maybe. And that could be an advantage, right?" Carl asked.

Morris nodded in agreement.

"Okay, keep us informed," Carl said. They smiled and turned, walking through to the second section where the gym and recreation rooms were located.

Morris, Michael, and Jane went to the arboretum and sat on the white metal benches against the back wall. Michael told Jane that it reminded him of a small section of Central Park. He had been there once when he was twelve. It was beautiful, but still, Jane didn't want to be there. Artificial lamps gave additional illumination from overhead. This aspect of it she disliked the most. The rest of it—the trees and the flowers that grew there—were actually beautiful.

The entrance to the arboretum was a glass door that, when closed, was exactly flush with the glass wall in which it was imbedded. People in lab coats carrying digital devices walked through the main corridor, absorbed in work and paying them no attention. They probably regarded the trio as muzzled dogs, Jane thought: harmless enough to ignore.

Jane sat in the center with Michael on her left and Morris on her right. They had already discussed what to do and were ready. With Jane expanding their vision, they knew they would have a chance of reaching their thoughts through the facility and finding the exact location of the device.

Morris turned to her as the corridor cleared. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's give it a try," he said. "Jane, you first. See what you can do."

The technical term for what they were doing was "remote viewing." They renounced this, though, in favor of the simpler street phrase by which it had become known: _Vision_. Jane cleared her mind and tried to find whatever filament of energy was supposedly somewhere inside her. As she focused, she could sense something in her radiating outward, like light, but she wasn't sure if this was the thing she needed.

She thought now that the "something" that Michael first referred to had perhaps always been there, but had faded into the background of her awareness like white noise. The only thing that had occurred to her in the last few days was the effect she would sometimes have on people. She would shake their hand and they would hesitate or slur their words for a second, as though they had received a mild electric shock. Sometimes, people would recoil at her words, or even at her thoughts. She had always thought that this was an aspect of having vision. Had that been a misapprehension? She wondered now.

She continued to focus and looked at her friends on either side. "Can you see anything yet?" she asked.

"No. Give me a second. It's hard. It's like pushing myself up from the bottom of the ocean," Morris said, closing his eyes again.

"I got into the cafeteria. I could see in there for a moment, then I lost my concentration. It's like I weigh a ton," Michael added.

"Keep trying guys, we'll get it." Jane's gaze drifted up to the flat series of lights overhead, and she squinted. She closed her eyes and found that the light penetrating her closed lids helped close off the chatter of her basic thoughts. With her mind clear, she began to drift.

As she continued to move into this unusual stillness, she had the sensation that her arms were wings and that her body was that of a bird's. Her mind was molded into this shape like hot, flowing wax, and then suddenly—from some unknown source—life was breathed into it and she took command of the shape. She was flying over the still waters in Wexford, with the crimson disc of the summer sun over the water. She flew rapidly across the landscape, the warm wind caressing the feathers under her wings that had so recently taken shape. That was when she found the ability inside her: It did exist, and it had an _on_ switch. She pushed it.

She felt the wave extend from her in a silent vibration. Right in front of her she heard the screech of the eagle that had become her body; it sounded like a beautiful, organic siren.

"Whoa. What did you do?" she heard Michael say. "Whatever it is, keep doing it. I'm getting farther through the facility."

She could only barely hear him, as the wind had taken her beyond the ocean and past the cliffs she knew by heart. She kept the switch in the "on" position; she found this easy to do now that she had found her focus. The ocean was below her now, and she went down close to it as her speed increased. The blue passed by her rapidly and became a blur as she felt the endless warm wind underneath her. White streaks of foam exploded up towards her, but she rocketed past them, drifting from left to right with incredible ease. She only had to tilt her wings by a couple degrees to make a huge turn. Morris then began to speak again from the world that was now aside from her.

"I'm going through the metallic door to the control room," he said, his voice trembling. He paused. " _I see it, Jane_. The main device is in there at the back of the room. It's a cube. It's got a digital display and some kind of simple antennae."

"Nice going," she said. Her voice sounded distant, as though she were in a dream. Now she pulled her wings back and flowed upward towards the sun. "Can you find more of them?"

"I think I've got one," Michael said, the struggle evident in his voice.

She heard Morris gasp. The exotic vista that Jane had been flying through so peacefully faded from her view like vanishing watercolors. She turned to him.

"There are six devices in total, from what I can tell," Morris said.

"How did you find them?" Michael asked.

"It was you, Jane—it was whatever you were doing. I was able to see through the facility so clearly. There's one in the science lab at the end of the main corridor, just out here to the right. The main device is through the metallic door at the back of the second corridor. That's our best bet. It leads to the control room, and there's another section beyond that leading to the surface. We've seen already that the science staff and the other employees can come and go as they please. They have those implants in their wrists. From what I can tell, the field diminishes in proportion to distance."

"So," Michael said, "we need a way into the control room."

"Yes," Morris said.

Just then a woman whom Jane had noticed in the facility previously walked past the window in front of the arboretum. She looked in at them—specifically, at Jane. The woman had a concerned expression on her face, and Jane thought she could detect sympathy. Jane took a chance and smiled. The woman smiled back, hesitantly but warmly. She kept on walking slowly past the arboretum until she was out of sight. She had the gait of somebody who was burdened with guilt.

"Do you know anything about that woman?" Jane asked, turning to Morris.

"Her name is Charlotte. I think she's some kind of administrator: some sort of assistant to Lucas, but I'm not sure to what extent. I've definitely seen him ask her to do stuff for him. I don't think she likes him too much...and I kind of get the distinct impression that she doesn't like being here."
CHAPTER 18 - COLLECTIVE

CHAPTER 18

COLLECTIVE

They left the arboretum shortly afterward and went to one of the recreation rooms with a television. Ciara was in there, and she smiled as they entered. She was a tall girl with a beautiful, oval face and olive complexion. Jane sat next to her while Morris and Mike sat on the sofa to their left. Jane extended her hand and introduced herself. Ciara told her that she was from San Francisco. Her father had been away when people, Lucas among them, had come to her house in the middle of the night and taken her. She told Jane how she had sought the company of other people with telepathic ability and how they used to convene late at night at a park near her home.

"There was one guy," Ciara said, looking down. "Danny was his name. I just wanted to help him. I had an idea that something was wrong, but I just couldn't see what it was. I kind of knew that the day would come when he would do something to get us into trouble." She smiled at the memories despite the clear regret in her voice.

"I was communicating with people all over the globe—Italy, Russia, China, you name it. I was able to talk to them. There weren't many people who could reach as far as I could, though. Imagine the first few people with dial-up internet," Ciara said, laughing. Jane smiled at this comparison. "There were maybe a hundred of us who talked regularly, but it was growing by a couple a month. Every now and then, one or two would drop out, and we knew it was because they had been taken to a place like this."

"What did he do? Danny, I mean," Jane asked.

Ciara sighed. "He was always edgy, like he was troubled by something. I think he had a desperate situation in his family, but for some reason I could never see inside his mind. I'd get brief glimpses now and then—he was always anxious. Whenever we'd all hook up and hang out, I would sit with him and try to talk to him. But his telepathic ability was immense. He could shield his mind like nobody I'd ever met before. If he didn't want you in, _you weren't getting in..._ and that was that." Ciara exhaled deeply.

After a moment, she continued. "This one night we were at the beach and..." She paused again, her voice turning solemn as she spoke. "He did something stupid. We were all aware of the fact that we could be detected, so I was always careful, even when I was communicating over vast distances."

"What happened at the beach?"

"I knew he had immense psychokinetic ability. I've heard about what you did with the car when you were young, Jane, but...he had even more ability than that. Much more." Her gaze drifted to the side as she seemed to consider the immensity of what she was referring to. "Anyway, what happened was he walked out to the water and started lifting it. We all followed him and looked out. It started as just a small globe at first, then he kept drawing more and more water into it. At first we were cheering; we thought it was amazing. But after about a minute, it was six feet wide and growing. That's when I started to panic because he was crossing the threshold. There's no way to summon that kind of energy without drawing attention to yourself."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, we were standing there looking at this floating, rippling ball of water, and the tide of our emotions started to shift. After a moment, we were shouting at him to stop, but he wouldn't. By the time it was twenty feet in diameter, he raised it upward and over our heads. I remember looking at him then. He wasn't even breaking a sweat, and he had this terrible smile on his face. My immediate instinct was to run but...I couldn't help myself. So I stayed." Ciara's lips curled into a wry smile, though there was still sadness in her face as she recalled the memory.

"What did he do with it? The water?"

"Well, some of us had already run by that point. There were four of us remaining, including him and me. He lifted it over us and raised it about a hundred feet. Then he just let it drop. It fell on us like rain, and I have to admit I laughed like crazy. It was the coolest thing I'd ever seen in my life, but when the water stopped falling, the spell broke and we panicked." She sighed and paused for a moment, staring at the floor.

Jane heard Mike and Morris talking animatedly in the background as Ciara took a second to gather her thoughts.

"We started running," she continued, "and Danny trailed behind, in that same uncaring way. He wasn't running like we were—he was walking. At that point I knew we would be caught and taken. But I have to say, I didn't have the same definite feeling about him." Her brow furrowed momentarily and an expression of distant wonder spread across her face. "We scattered into the night, and I went home. I shut out my telepathy and turned off the lights, as though it would have made any difference. I was asleep when they came five hours later. I woke up in the dark to find three people standing over me in our living room. I tried to run, but they shot me with a tranquilizer gun, and I was out in ten seconds. I collapsed on the kitchen floor...I think." She pulled her legs up and rested her chin on them. "I don't know what happened to Danny. I know they would have had a difficult time taking him in. In fact, I feel sorry for anyone who goes looking for him. Even if they use a tranquilizer gun, he could still do serious damage."

Jane considered her response. "But you didn't do anything dangerous."

"Neither did you. It's not about that anymore, Jane."

"Yes, I think I know what you mean." They looked at each other knowingly. "You think they want something as well, don't you?"

"Yes!" Ciara exclaimed, clearly glad that somebody else was thinking the same thing she was. "In the months before they got me, I was losing contact with people rapidly—more and more every day—and most of them hadn't really done anything wrong. It got to the point that we were losing more people through telepathic contact than we were gaining." She paused and a terribly solemn expression stole over her face. "It got scary then."

"Did Lucas take you into that room?" Jane asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Yes. They lowered the field, just a little. I took the opportunity to reach out into the surrounding area as much as I could to scan the facility."

"What did you see?"

"Not much. The dampening signal was still strong, but I could tell that the best way out isn't through the back entrance where the guards are standing behind the metal gates. It's through the control room, past the employee section."

"What's beyond the employee section?"

"There's a green area that stretches in front for about a hundred and fifty feet, and a ten-foot wall surrounds the complex with a single gate for an exit at the center."

As Jane considered this, Carl and Joel walked into the room and sat on the sofa behind them. Ciara turned to face them. "Hey guys," she said, smiling.

Jane turned and looked at them, dangling her arm over the back of the sofa. "Good day?" she asked as a sarcastic smile spread across her face.

Carl looked at her and smirked. "Yeah, not bad," he said, and laughed.

"So how did you wind up in here?" she asked.

He looked down for a second, then back to her. "Well...I had made this friend online, Sherry. She was an Ethereal too, but not as powerful. Not like us." He looked around at them nervously and took a deep breath. "We talked for months, and then one day I said I wanted to meet her. So we picked a time and a place. I was on my way there, and it was dark. I was walking down a road by myself when something hit me in the shoulder. I turned around and there was a group of people way back behind me in the shadows. Then they were running towards me as I fell. That's all I remember. I woke up here. They must have been monitoring our chats or something."

"Bastards," Joel said.

"Yeah," Carl replied.

"What about you?" Jane asked, looking at Joel.

Joel hesitated for a moment as he looked around the room at their various faces. After a moment, he looked forward and began his story. "I was in a band in New York. I was lead guitar. We were actually kind of decent, but there was serious infighting. We were about to play a show, and I knew it was going to be our last one; we were splitting apart at the seams. The drummer, Charlie, and I got along fine. But Jessie, the lead singer, was a whole other story. Anyway, we went on, I was getting serious feedback, and he kept glaring at me during the show. I was getting angry, as you can imagine, and the power started leaking out of me. The house lights started to flicker. I heard something blow in the back and the whole place went dark. Thankfully, it stopped us from fighting. We actually ended up laughing after it happened, which is kind of ironic when you think about it." Joel stopped and laughed for a moment.

"They finally managed to get some light in the place," he continued, "and we were all hanging around waiting to find out what had happened. I knew I had caused it, though. I had never concentrated too much on the power. I knew I was an Ethereal, but I didn't care. I just wanted a career in music. Anyway, these guys showed up, and Lucas was with them. I had been talking to Charlie in the back, and when I saw them, I knew straight away that they were there for me—put it down to intuition, telepathy, whatever. The second they showed up, I ran for the side of the stage, but just as I reached the edge, I saw Lucas turn and look at me. I kept running and they got me in the alley behind the venue. I think it was a Taser; I don't know. I heard a pulse of some sort and then a stinging sensation right in the middle of my back. I don't remember anything after that."

"Sorry," Jane said.

"Thanks," he replied, and smiled at her.

"Hey," Carl said. He was looking at Jane now. "You said something about a plan?" He glanced over to Michael and Morris. They got up and sat on the corners of their couches at the other side of the room, facing the group that had formed around Jane.

"Yes," she said, and nodded at him. She turned back to Ciara. "Ciara, when you were scanning the facility in that room with Lucas, when you looked through the metallic door, did you notice a small portable generator of some kind on the floor?"

Ciara thought about this and then replied, "No, I didn't, actually. I went right through there because it just seemed like a standard control area—a bunch of computers and stuff. I continued on to see what else I could see. Why?"

"Well, we've figured out how the dampening field works," Jane replied, looking at the various faces surrounding her. "And we think we might have a plan to disable it."

Joel and Carl exchanged a shocked glance.

"Really?" Joel asked. "How?"

Jane explained in detail what she, Michael, and Morris had discovered about how the suppression field worked.

"How did you find that out?" Carl asked.

Jane looked at Morris nervously.

"Ugh, that's a bit of a story, but we'll tell you later," Morris said.

Jane winked at him surreptitiously.

"Okay," Carl replied after a moment of hesitation, during which he glanced at the two of them.

"Do you think we'd have a chance of getting to the surface?" Ciara asked.

"Yes," Mike replied.

"They have all kinds of weaponry, Jane."

"I know, but we can't let that stop us. If we can take down the main generator, we should be able to disarm them. Don't you think so?" Jane asked, looking at each of them. Ciara seemed hesitant and unsure.

"Yeah, why not?" Carl replied.

Jane turned to him and thought that she could sense the same thing she had sensed from Morris when they had first met: He was a good person. Joel and Carl began to talk to each other about their plan as Jane returned to her conversation with Ciara. In the short span of time during which they had been talking, Jane had grown very fond of her. There was a gentleness to Ciara's personality that comforted Jane. A warmth radiated out from Ciara, making Jane feel safe.

Michael, Morris, Joel, and Carl had been involved in their own conversations. Now Morris called over to her.

"Jane."

She turned and looked at him as he nodded towards the television. They all turned their gaze to the TV, which displayed the image of a news anchor.

"Turn it up," she said. Ciara obliged immediately, turning the volume up with a quick gesture of her hand. Jane had a sinking feeling in her stomach as the volume went up and the sound of the reporter's voice filled the room.

"The video, which is the first of its kind to reach the mainstream, has been viewed more than fifty million times online. It comes from a group that claims to have devoted itself to the eradication of people with 'Ethereal Vision.' It references several facilities around the globe, including ones at undisclosed locations in New York, Paris, and Hong Kong. The person in the video, whose voice is completely unidentifiable, says that the facilities will be overrun if the Ethereals, as they are referred to in the video, are not released to them. What they plan to do with the Ethereals is not known. These facilities have heretofore been thought not to exist, but this video seems to provide even more convincing evidence that they do. The creator of the video claims to know the locations of these places and details about how they operate. Here is a small segment of the video. This is the only part we have been permitted to show on air." The woman closed her hands and finished her piece as her image was replaced and the video played on full screen.

Jane gasped when she heard the voice, for it was a horrifying sound. It had been altered sonically to such a degree that it sounded drastically inhuman. But it _was_ a human speaking the words. The video showed an amalgamation of clips that had been posted online over the years—videos of other people doing extraordinary things.

There was a young man walking through a cloud of fire and surrounded by a shimmering veil of light; it was some kind of strange reaction between the flames and his psychokinetic ability. He was using this to shield himself from the fire. It was a clip that Jane was familiar with, having watched it before. The inhuman voice spoke and filled the room.

"We know who you are, and we know what you want. If the captive Ethereals are not released to us, we will release all information pertaining to your facilities to the public and will overrun your locations by force. Do not test us on this matter, or the consequences will be devastating."

As the video ended, red lettering appeared on the screen, the color of blood. It read " _Ethereal End."_

The video cut away and back to the anchorwoman. Jane thought it was probably the greatest amount of shock she had ever seen a news anchor show on television. The woman composed herself quickly and continued. "So it would seem this radical group—Ethereal End—has issued a threat to these _facilities_." The woman hesitated and touched her finger to her ear monitor. Her expression changed from the pleasant demeanor of an anchorwoman facing millions of people to the stress of a professional worker dealing with various technical difficulties.

This expression lasted all of three seconds, then the pleasant, if somewhat perturbed, anchor was back. "It seems further comment on this video..." she hesitated again and took a breath. "At this time, we won't be providing further commentary on this video."

The woman continued speaking about another topic, but Jane could sense something else in her voice now: terror. Whatever had been said into that ear monitor, it had clearly been an indication to cut the report short. Had they decided that airing the clip was a mistake? Jane guessed the probability of that was high.

"Turn it down," she said to Ciara, who obliged.
CHAPTER 19 - ENTANGLED

CHAPTER 19

ENTANGLED

Charlotte Jenkins reached her apartment at ten minutes past midnight. At the request of Lucas, she had gone to the facility and signed on to work at six in the morning, two hours earlier than specified in her contract. Lucas had wanted her to go over Jane Connor's case file again. He was looking for something specific.

As Charlotte entered her apartment, she took off her coat and felt tremendous relief. She turned to the wall-mounted digital display that controlled most of the apartment's functions. After turning up the heat, Charlotte proceeded to the kitchen, where she made herself tea. She was at the back of the penthouse, overlooking a beautiful terraced garden five floors below. As she stirred the hot water, Charlotte recalled the conversation she'd had with Lucas earlier.

She had arrived in his office with two cups of coffee, her tablet held only semi-securely under her arm. Lucas looked at her and regarded her for only a split second before returning to his terminal. Even that was enough to give her a mild tremor. _I've got to get out of here,_ she thought briefly, feeling her stomach lurch in his presence. The coffee cups trembled imperceptibly in her hands for a brief second as she walked across the room.

He told her in that distant, brusque voice that there was a possibility that Jane was exhibiting some new, heretofore unseen ability that they hadn't yet detected. He suggested that the girl was somehow able to extend her abilities to those around her, amplifying their psionic potential. This thought had scared Charlotte, but not in the same way it scared Lucas.

Charlotte was scared for the same reasons anybody else would be: people with "Vision" _were_ different. They were new, and they were unknown. But Lucas's fear, she thought, came from another place. She had watched him over the previous year during which she had been subordinate to him, and some of his behavior had truly disturbed her. She walked into the facility most days with a lingering pain in her neck, and her car was littered with empty bottles of aspirin.

She would find herself, in the few quiet moments she had, wondering what she was doing there. She felt trapped by Lucas. Worse, the appearance of the Atlantic Object—something she knew very little about—had changed everything. Whereas before she had felt that she could extricate herself from the environment if she tried, she now felt that she was truly treading in deep waters.

Presently, she sat on the white sofa in her large living room. She sipped her tea and wiped a tear from her eye. The apartment was absolutely exquisite, and the most beautiful furniture adorned it. She could afford it with her bloated salary. But it was also empty. It seemed, somehow, like a shell to her—that it wasn't really hers.

She had been chosen for the task because of her background in psychology and the fact that her doctoral thesis specialized in the emergence of people with Ethereal Vision. Its title had been _Vision from another perspective: on the emergence of the macro manifestation of psychokinesis._ She had completed that work five years ago.

She smiled to herself as she remembered herself back then; the abandon of writing that thesis washed back over her. She had worn shorts and tank tops in the summer as she had gone to Central Park some days to work. She had petted dogs as they walked by with their owners. She had strolled around the city eating ice cream and had met college friends on beautiful sunlit days. Where were those friends now? All through that time, her thoughts had been filled with the wonder of what these new discoveries—the emergence of these new faculties—meant for the world.

She had _fallen_ since then, though; that was the feeling she had about herself now. Writing that thesis, she thought, had probably been the most interesting thing she had ever done in her life. She recalled that one day in the city, when her work on it was nearing completion, she had looked up at the sun through sunglasses.

The world had _shimmered_ inside her for a moment then. Her mind seemed to vanish, and she suddenly felt as though the universe was looking back at her. For a few brief seconds, everything was beautiful: the filth caked into the sidewalk, the green summer leaves as the breeze swished through them gently, the honking horns and the puppy jumping up to grasp his leash in his mouth. For a moment, it all seemed to speak to her. Then, just a moment later, it had been gone, and in the years that followed she had _fallen_.

She wondered again how she had gotten here. She had always had an undeniable attraction to this new and emerging reality of psionic ability; in retrospect, she supposed it was all inevitable. Her thesis had flagged the attention of the Committee, and she had been offered a research position.

A year later, she was offered a job as an advisor and assistant at the New York facility, and she accepted it, thinking it would be an interesting position to have. It had proved interesting, but only in a strange, unworldly sense. In that first year she had seen the Ethereals perform astonishing feats during their rehabilitation sessions.

They had lit fires and levitated marbles, all while the scientists and technicians took readings of what they were doing. Only in the last eight months had that become an issue of concern for her, as the reasoning behind what they were doing shifted dramatically. Now she was working directly for Lucas.

She sipped her tea in silence, the knot in her stomach refusing to go away. The large flat-screen television sat dormant and unused in the corner and reflected the moon that spilled light through the large curved-glass window at the front of the room. She reached for her cell phone and scrolled to her parents' home number. The last call was listed as having taken place four months previously. She was about to call when she hesitated and placed the phone back on the sofa cushion. It had taken her this long to understand that she had distanced herself from them out of shame.

She yearned desperately for her father's voice. What would he tell her? If only she could have his counsel for five minutes. That could be the balm that solved everything. But even if she did speak to him, what could she possibly tell him that wouldn't breach her disclosure contract? The answer was obvious: nothing. Another tear streaked down her right cheek. She wiped it away.

In that moment, she decided that she would have to do something. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to do, but she had to take responsibility for her situation, even if it meant sacrificing her career and her job. In truth, these things didn't mean that much to her anymore. She turned and walked into the kitchen.

She pulled out the drawer where her Taser was stored and placed it on the counter. She reached underneath into the recess in the wood there and found the cold metal. She pulled it out and looked at it. It was a sophisticated weapon, capable of disabling anyone within less than half a second of impact. She recalled the recoil from the weapon. The force had trembled up her arms when she had fired it during her training. The blue-white bolts of energy that the weapon fired were powerful and delivered a devastating surge of energy. It was something she had _adamantly refused_ to have anything to do with, but she had been forced to take it as part of her contract.

She looked at it, holding it sideways in her hand. _What exactly are you going to do with this?_ she wondered. The girl with the blonde hair came to mind: Jane. Charlotte had read her case file; she practically knew it by heart. The girl was from Dublin, Ireland. Her mother was an artist. Her father had left their family shortly after a dramatic car accident. It was suspected that the accident had precipitated the emergence of Jane's massive psychokinetic ability. It had caused one of the most dramatic spikes of such activity ever recorded. Jane had levitated the car and prevented it from falling into a valley below. Charlotte felt a pang of guilt and gritted her teeth as the guilt quickly turned to anger.

She looked down at the weapon again. Whatever the Atlantic Object turned out to be, of one thing she was certain: It was not meant for _them_. It was not meant for people without _Vision_.

She herself had surmised that it had been waiting for mankind to reach the evolutionary precipice whereby this "vision" could show up and _activate_ it. Charlotte guessed that whoever or whatever had left it there had determined that evolution on earth could someday give rise to intelligent life. This, in turn, could give rise to life capable of affecting the universe with the power of thought alone.

Her thoughts drifted from the object to the Taser in her hand and the current difficulty she faced. As she looked at the Taser, she thought of the psionic-suppression devices. She had access to the control room. A few well-aimed shots could take out the main generator; it could give them a chance to escape.

The gravity of what she was considering descended on her. She rechecked all the case files as the eight names flashed across her mind. None of them had done anything significantly damaging, and none of them had proved that they were a great danger to the world. In regard to Jane specifically, there was no actual evidence that she had done anything wrong, despite Lucas's protestations to the contrary.

There were doctored files that she had received from him suggesting that Jane had caused a car to crash, injuring a passenger for no good reason. Charlotte had worked with Lucas long enough to know almost immediately which files were doctored and which were genuine accounts. It had grown into an intuitive faculty. She had done her own research and made her own phone calls from a private, secured phone line. The report she received contradicted everything in the file Lucas gave her.

There was another concern that Lucas seemed to be ignoring: the dangerous radical group—Ethereal End—that constantly threatened the Ethereals. They had received encoded video messages from the group in the previous weeks. Some of the messages were now leaking onto the Internet. Until very recently, the group had kept these messages out of the public's direct line of sight, but it was changing that tactic now.

One of the messages had appeared on the Internet and gone viral. It had been viewed millions of times by the public. News stations around the world had broadcast parts of it, although many of them seemed reluctant to go into any detailed commentary about it. The existence of the facilities had now breached the sphere of public awareness, a thought that made Charlotte tremble.

She prepared for bed, deciding that these endless ruminations were not accomplishing anything. She left the Taser next to her on the nightstand.

***

Charlotte woke hours later and sat up placidly in bed. She rested on her right hand and looked out the window at the moon, which had descended quite a bit in the sky. She was unaware of this, but she was still in a slight hypnagogic state.

An ominous feeling came over her as she looked at the moon; she was totally unaware of her surroundings. Images flashed in her mind of massive and primal forces of nature: pulsars whirling in the dark of space, exploding stars and planets crashing into dust.

After a moment during which her mind drifted through these elemental forces, Charlotte lay back down on her bed. She was asleep again almost immediately. Behind her, the diminishing moonlight glinted off the metallic edge of the advanced weapon she had left sitting on her nightstand.
CHAPTER 20 - SHARDS

CHAPTER 20

SHARDS

In the time that followed the interrogation he had subjected Michael to, Lucas had become increasingly troubled. Jane's brief display of power in the testing room confirmed what they suspected about her, but still, he had not gotten the exact information he required. He had wanted her to make a connection to the object in the ocean, and this she had not done. The brief display of her abilities had not been enough.

He had watched the recording of her and her two friends in the cafeteria over fifty times. He consulted with technicians in the laboratory, and they confirmed his suspicions; there had been a small, unusual spike of psionic activity recorded in the cafeteria, right at the moment Michael had performed this unusual feat. It was a signature they had not come across before, and Lucas quickly drew his own conclusions about it: Jane was indeed having some kind of effect on Michael's ability—enhancing it, perhaps—just enough for him to overcome the suppression field. Lucas consulted with other experts in the facility and they confirmed his conclusions.

If she could do that, what else might she be capable of? What if she somehow managed to amplify their faculties enough to escape? He checked and rechecked the schematics of the facility and obsessively went through various scenarios in his mind that might offer an avenue by which they could leave. The more he thought about it, the more he thought about _her_ , the more he was troubled by her.

Lucas made his way to the control room in an attempt to assuage his fears. As he entered, Chris turned around in his chair and stood up in front of the bank of monitors that lined the front wall. Lucas regarded him with a nod, then turned and walked over to the other side of the room. Through a row of servers and other equipment, the device sat on top of a platform, surrounded on either side by computers. Lucas stared at the odd, cuboid contraption and placed a hand to his cheek, rubbing the two-day stubble that had grown there.

"I know we've had this conversation before, but can we jack this thing up, Chris?" He could hear Chris swallow from across the room, and he turned and looked at him. For a second, Lucas could see fear in Chris's face; then it disappeared.

"Ugh...well, like I said before, Mr. Johnson, there are two main reasons why that would not be very advisable. The first is that it could cause harm to the Ethereals. As I'm sure you know, this has been documented by Dr. Elijah—"

"I know all about that, Chris!" Lucas yelled.

"Of course. My apologies. Well, the second reason is that it could damage the device. It's a very sensitive piece of equipment. There are two transistors in particular that are involved in processing the signal. It's quite complex, and if we try to increase the output, it could cause a heating problem."

"Heating problem?"

"Yes. That could cause the device to shut down entirely." Chris swallowed again.

Lucas sighed. "What's the best you can give me, Chris? Don't say 'nothing,' because that's not an acceptable answer. I have my reasons for asking you, and you don't need to know what they are." He watched as Chris's eyes darted around the room.

"I can give you five percent more," he spat.

"Good," Lucas said. "What kind of effect might that have?"

"Well, there have been some documented incidents of telepathic activity despite the presence of the field, so it might diminish that. Not much else, though."

"It will do." Lucas turned and walked towards the door. He swiped his wrist over the security device. The door slid open and the bright light of the corridor poured into the room around him. "Chris, next time I ask you to do something, don't hesitate. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Chris replied.

Then Lucas left, feeling as though he had won a major victory. Five percent wasn't much, but it was enough to ease his mind for the moment.

***

Later, in his office, Lucas thought more about the suppression field that enabled the facility to function the way it did. There had been limited research done on the long-term effects of exposure to the field generated by the signal, but there was some evidence suggesting the possibility of the formation of tumors. Lucas downplayed this evidence whenever anybody brought up the subject, particularly Delahunt in the Paris facility. She was apt to quote from the paper written by the inventor of the device. During these conversations, which bothered Lucas terribly, he would dismiss her concerns with a wave of his hand, telling her that the evidence was not supported.

It was, though. The man who had discovered the frequency that suppressed the brainwave pattern—Dr. Elijah Campbell—had done extensive research six years ago at the Hong Kong facility. He had worked specifically with a young child named Chen. One year into the experiment, Chen developed a brain tumor, and although it had been removed successfully, the child experienced slightly damaged nerve function afterward. Campbell had written an extensive report about it and Lucas saw that it had been accessed eight hundred times from the International network. Apparently, everyone had read it.

The report stated that the size and rate of growth of the tumor was directly proportional to the strength of the field as well as the length of its use and operation. The child had undeniably suffered the tumor, he said, as a result of exposure to it. Of particular interest to Lucas was the fact that the child's psychokinetic faculty had become mostly dormant after the removal of the tumor: The field, eventually and with enough strength, had damaged the ability permanently.

Lucas would think of this from time to time. He even read and reread the section in the man's document that stated clearly how, after the operation, the child had lost his psychokinetic function to a degree of ninety percent.

From: Report on the effect of the Psionic-Suppression Field, one year later.

It is with great regret that I report that Chen's psychokinetic faculties have been diminished by his exposure to the suppression field. I wish now that I had not discovered this at all. I know the only thing I can do at this point is trust that whoever is reading this will do the right thing and that the information I have gathered will not be used to damage these young people in any way.

Not only has Chen lost this amazing ability, but his motor function has been impaired as a result of the tumor and the subsequent operations. I am desperately sorry to say that it is my fault. I am resigning my position here, and I implore you to use this discovery only for the benefit of these people and never to cause them any harm.

If used on very low levels, you should be able to diminish their abilities without putting them in any peril, but even this is not substantiated, and we would require years of further testing to prove or disprove this hypothesis. In truth, the field could be dangerous to these people at any level, and if I had my way, you would be finding another method to detain the dangerous ones entirely—few that they are. That is all I have to say on the subject.

Be careful with this.

Dr. Elijah Campbell, Hong Kong, October 2022.

Lucas wasn't concerned about having manipulated Chris into increasing the output of the field. His only concern was Jane and the other Ethereals. He turned on the monitors that lined the front of his office to various displays of Jane and her friends.

There was something about the way they moved when he watched them now that was not the same. Their body language was different; they were more confident since Jane's arrival and, strangely, he wasn't sure if they themselves knew this. Her arrival seemed to have changed them beyond even their ability to recognize.

At that moment, a call came through. It was Chris. It was no surprise to Lucas that Chris generally elected to not use the videoconference software on their internal network.

"What is it?" Lucas asked gruffly.

"It appears there's been a security breach, sir. I suspect that you'll be receiving a communiqué at any moment from the Committee."

"What was the nature of the breach?"

"It was Ethereal End. They've infiltrated our network and copied everything: detailed files about the Ethereals, locations, security, staff, weaponry. They have copied terabytes of data." Chris's voice wavered, and he seemed only barely able to contain his panic as he explained the situation.

Lucas sighed. "How did they breach our security?"

"The means of their network hack are not currently known. I'm working to find that out."

Lucas disconnected the call just as Chris was about to say something else. His thoughts returned to the faction, and he gritted his teeth. Despite intense investigations, they had uncovered very little information about Ethereal End. The Committee was making arrangements to protect the facility should the threat prove to be real. The Hong Kong facility was also taking similar precautions. Although a deeper voice that he never really listened to told him to pay closer attention to this emerging problem, he ignored it; there was something else he wanted, and the majority of the Committee now appeared to want this information too.

***

In the days that followed Jane's conversation with her new friends and their discovery of the devices that suppressed their psychic abilities, she began to notice some of the staff in the facility acting strangely. She had seen people in lab coats run through the hallways, and she had seen others, more frequently than she had seen before, go through the metallic door at the end of the second corridor. She guessed that they were reacting to the recent threats to the facility that had been broadcast around the world.

She was spending a lot of time with Morris and growing close to him. She liked him. She fell asleep at night listening to his heart beating through the psychic connection that was growing between them and wondered if he did the same.

She exited her room one morning a few days after they had seen the televised threats from Ethereal End. As she stepped into the brightly lit hallway, a terrible dizziness came over her, and she leaned against the wall for fear of falling over. She touched her hand to her forehead as a dull ache began to grow there. She raised her head to look up. Through blurred vision, she saw Morris come out of his room and stumble towards her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, then hesitated. "They've done something, Morris. Something's changed." She placed a hand on his shoulder, noticing the firm muscle beneath the thin fabric. It seemed that strength flowed from his body into hers like electricity. She was glad of it.

"Yes, I noticed."

Ciara came towards them slowly, also clutching her temple. "It's the field. It's stronger now. They've turned it up." She looked at Jane. "Can you hear me?"

Jane looked at Ciara, knowing she was attempting to communicate with her telepathically, but could make out no clear words.

"No, I can barely hear a thing," Jane said, and her breathing deepened. If they had no access to telepathy, their plans to escape were nothing more than vain desires. She looked around at Morris as he groaned in discomfort.

"This doesn't feel good either," he said.

"No. It isn't healthy. I don't know what it's doing to us, but it's not good," Jane added.

A voice boomed over them. It seemed to come from every direction.

"Jane Connor, please report to the testing room." It was Lucas; his deep, dry voice resounded through the corridor.

She looked at her friends as the echo of his voice faded. The three of them shared glances before Ciara finally said, "Come on, we'll go with you."

"He won't let you come in," Jane said.

"I know. We'll walk you in that direction anyway."

They walked down the aisle to the main corridor and stayed with Jane until they reached the end. She turned to face them when she got to the door that led to the testing room where Lucas had brought her before.

"We can still get through the door and shut down the field. We just have to find another way," she said, though the resolve in her voice had faded palpably. She clutched her forehead again. "I don't know if we're going to get used to it this time."

"Me neither," Morris said. "If he does anything to you in there—"

"You'll do nothing," she said gently, cutting him off. "I appreciate the thought, but we have to play this properly if we're going to escape." She turned around as the door opened automatically. She stepped through and the door closed behind her.

Lucas was standing on the other side, waiting for her with his arms folded across his chest. He was holding a pen in his hand; the other end dangled from his mouth.

"Come with me," he said. He turned and walked towards the same room as before. She followed. Thanks to the amplified effect of the field, she was moving more slowly than before, but her pace was picking up and she could feel her energy start to return; apparently she was adjusting to the new level. How long, though, she wondered, would it be before something inside her broke? How long before something became damaged? She winced at the thought of this; the idea of losing a part of herself to this place—to him—made her want to cry.

Lucas watched as she walked to the other side of the room and took a seat at the far end of the table. The overhead light hurt her eyes, and she winced.

"Are the lights too bright for you, Jane? Would you like me to turn them down?" he asked, the mocking tone in his voice obvious.

She had the direct impression that he had been the one to give the order to dial up the effect of the suppression device. She glared back at him. "No, I'm fine," she said in a clear tone. She looked down at the desk. Across from her, on his side, was a very minute crack from when she had first heard him slam his fist down. The impact hadn't affected the functions of the device, though.

"Okay. The dampening field has been lowered very slightly in this room, Jane. Would you be so kind as to test your abilities on the objects you see in front of you? You'll find that you won't be able to do much other than roll the marbles around. As you know, we had to make some adjustments after your previous display."

She glanced at the reflective glass that had been repaired. Then she looked at the objects on the desk in front of her before looking up at him. "No," she replied.

He stared at her for a moment, then turned to the mirror. He made a cutting gesture across his neck and turned back to her.

"All of the recording devices in this room have been switched off now, Jane." He began to manipulate the controls on the digital surface again.

She began to feel queasy. She thought she would throw up, but kept her gaze fixed straight ahead at him. He flicked his fingers on the desk, and, like before, she saw another photograph fly across the space between them.

It was another picture of her father—a different one this time, from before she had been born. It was a college-graduation photograph. She had seen this image in her parents' digital library. Momentary feelings of warmth washed over her as she recalled looking through these images with her mother.

"I'd like to talk to you again about the accident that occurred when you were young."

"Why?"

"Well, on that night, in that specific location, we recorded an immense incidence of psionic activity. I went to that location to investigate, but I found nothing." He paused and glared at her. "I know the accident precipitated your father's leaving, Jane."

The dam was once again apparent in her mind. She was standing at its base as a crack appeared and spread upward. A streak of pain shot up through her body from her navel and went straight into her mind. She had the urge to cry, but her lips stayed sealed, and her expression remained firm.

"What do you want me to say? There was an accident. My father misjudged a turn." She hadn't planned on saying this, but the words came from her lips unbidden nonetheless.

"Well, there weren't enough details in the police report to say either way, but I think we both know that's not what happened."

"I don't want to talk about this."

He grunted in a half sneer. "Well, I'm sorry, but you'll have to. You stopped the car, Jane, didn't you?"

She answered honestly this time. "I don't remember, Johnson," she said, shaking her head. Once again, in her mind, the innocuous child's toy—the teddy bear—fell from over her shoulder and through the windshield. Somewhere, along with this memory, she felt the shudder of the car as it froze in midair and the suffocating impact as she slammed against her seatbelt. Another crack appeared in the dam, rising upward from its base rapidly like lightning.

In her mind now she looked up at the structure of the dam. _All that power,_ she thought as she felt for it slowly, tentatively. _All these years. That's where I've been keeping it._ She closed her eyes. In her mind she willed the dam to seal itself once again, and its growing light diminished as the cracks began to close upward.

She opened her eyes and looked at Lucas.

"Does the fact that you are so unwilling to use your abilities have something to do with the fact that your father left shortly after? Was he ashamed of you? Afraid of you?" Lucas asked casually, his eyebrows raised.

She didn't respond, just returned his stare.

He stood, took the baseball off the table and began to walk around the far end of the room. Then, without warning, he turned, lifted his arm back over his head and threw it directly at her. It hit Jane square on her right cheek and she gasped, reaching to that spot with her hand as the ball bounced in the background behind her.

He had thrown it hard, and its trajectory had managed to scrape off the surface of her skin there. She looked at her fingers, trembling, and saw a minute amount of blood as a pulse of pain began to build underneath her swollen cheek. Her lips were quivering, though she forced them to stay sealed as she looked back at Lucas, who was now pacing the room as though nothing had happened.

"Let me remind you that all of the recording devices in this room have been disabled, Jane. Nobody will ever know what happened in here. Except for you and me...of course." He leered at her then, grinning. "You've grown very fond of Morris," he said after a moment of silence during which Jane wished she could reach across the table and punch him.

"What of it?" she asked. Every word sent a streak of new pain into her face.

"Well, if you're not going to give me the information I need, I'll have to persuade you. You know how far I'll go, so why don't you just make this easier and move the damn marbles?"

"No."

"So Morris it is, then."

"If you lay a finger on him..." she said, but her voice was quivering now.

"What? Tell me, what are you going to do? In here, your ethereal ability is DORMANT!" He boomed the last word across the table, slamming both fists on the glass. Additional minute cracks spread out from his fists, as though in slow motion, like ice crystals might form on a window frame.

She flinched, but only by a few millimeters. Still, she did not relent, and continued to stare into his eyes. She only faltered and looked to the side for a brief moment.

"Get out of here," he said finally.

It took her a moment to realize that she was free to go. She stood up from the table, ignoring the dull ache the movement sent to her forehead, and walked briskly towards the door. As she approached it, she clasped her hand over the butterfly in her pocket, running her fingers over it. She saw Lucas shift as she walked past him. She knew what was coming.

"Wait," he said.

She stopped as he approached from behind. He grabbed her arm and lifted it upward. He stared at the beautiful object in her hands, and his eyes grew wide.

"Where on earth did you get this?" he asked as he grabbed the ornament out of her hand.

She had no more words for him and merely stared back. He glared at the butterfly, turning it over in his hand as though he were looking at some kind of alien object. Then its significance seemed to become apparent to him as his face went blank. He looked back at Jane. He smiled, dropped the beautiful butterfly to the floor, and brought his boot solidly down on it. It smashed beyond all recognition, and minute fragments of the exquisite object spread out around his shoe.

He reached up a well-muscled arm and grabbed her tightly just below the shoulder. Then he opened the door and threw her into the corridor. She put her hands out to stop herself from slamming into the wall on the other side of the door. She turned around, placing her hands against the cold concrete there. He looked at her a moment longer, then slammed the door.

She took a moment outside the room to breathe, then proceeded through the door back into the main corridor. She stopped for a moment, but she was more aware than ever that she was being watched, so she forced herself onward. Her thoughts were swirling as she walked back through the corridors, and now tears streaked down her face, stinging her cheek even further. The panic rising in her mind was all about Max. In losing the butterfly, she felt as though her final connection to him had been severed. Still, something gave her hope—a memory not of the past, but of something else she couldn't quite grasp. Somewhere inside her, she felt as though she was remembering the future. Although that seemed impossible, she couldn't dismiss the possibility and continued onward.
CHAPTER 21 - ALLEGIANCE

CHAPTER 21

ALLEGIANCE

Charlotte Jenkins approached Lucas's office slowly with a coffee held in each hand in front of her. It took tremendous effort not to let the trembling in her hands show as she neared the door. Only a few shallow breaths got through her tightened chest cavity. She knocked on the door and entered after a few seconds.

"Good morning, sir. I have some information about the radical faction—Ethereal End—that you're going to need to hear."

He glanced up from his monitor just for a second, then continued typing. Charlotte set one of the coffees on his desk carefully and took into her hand the tablet that she had been holding under her arm.

"I'm not sure if you've received word from the Committee—"

"I have. They said the threats are real. They're going to come at the facility unless we release the Ethereals. I know."

"Yes. The Ukrainian ambassador has a contact somewhere, an insider. They don't know when, but all evidence suggests that something's going to happen in the next few days." He didn't respond to this, but simply kept typing, as though the conversation had already been concluded. "Perhaps it's a good time to evacuate now?"

"No. They're sending extra security; it will be fine."

Her mouth gaped open, but she closed it quickly. He turned and looked at her now.

"Uh, sir, with respect, that seems to be a dangerous supposition. The Hong Kong facility is considering a complete evacuation to a safe site, and there is every indication that the faction is coming here first."

"That's a trick. Hong Kong will be hit first."

Charlotte recoiled at these words, and a sick feeling overcame her at the mere fact that he was talking so casually about such an issue; she knew people's lives were at risk.

"I don't think that's—"

"Miss Jenkins. You're an advisor at this facility, and you answer to me. So please, with regard to these issues, keep your mouth shut. We're not leaving here until I have what we need."

She suddenly lost all sense of fear. A steely expression took over her face. "From Connor, you mean," she said flatly.

"Yes. From Connor."

"Sir, I think, under the circumstances, the Committee would understand if we evacuated—with or without a clear directive."

"That's not the point." He clasped his hands and rested his chin on them. "I don't care about Ethereal End. You know the function of this facility has shifted, Miss Jenkins—to state the obvious—to state what nobody else will. We have an object of unknown origin in the ocean, and a group of people who appear to have some connection to it. One of them, a girl with enormously powerful ethereal abilities, appears to have an even greater effect on this object. We're not going anywhere until we find out what that is."

The conversation was over. She nodded and turned to leave. She closed the door behind her and took a left outside the office, heading for the front doors. She felt the familiar panic rise in her chest as she approached the exit. She dropped the tablet on a counter near the door and swiped her wrist on the security panel.

She smiled at Wayne, the chief of security, as she passed the lobby and the blank wall to the right, where she knew a scan of her body would be taken. She exited through the left side of the many glass doors that lined the front of the entrance, then ran around the corner to the side of the building. She crouched low on the ground and began to gasp desperately for air as her lungs seemed to close on her. It took her a full ten minutes to relax and get her breathing under control as she stared up at the cold but beautiful blue sky.

***

Jane woke the next morning after her last encounter with Lucas in the testing room and found that she was up earlier than her friends. She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror to examine the gash on her cheek. The baseball had hit part of her nose as well, and she could still feel a minute amount of pain there. As she stared at her reflection, she found it strange that she was not concerned about her wounds, or the pain they were causing her. She had not shown the wound to Morris; she had avoided him after the encounter out of fear that he might do something stupid.

Feeling hungry, she left her room and walked towards the stairs that would take her to the cafeteria. Approaching from her right side was the woman who had walked past the arboretum when she, Morris, and Michael had scanned the facility. Jane looked at the woman as they drew closer. Her body language was clear; the woman was terrified and looked an absolute mess.

Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but she had missed a few strands, which hung in scraggly lines over the side of her face. Under other circumstances, the woman would have looked pretty. Jane could tell that she was in her early thirties, but she could easily pass for forty.

The woman approached Jane and smiled tentatively. She looked around from side to side, then up at the ceiling. This struck Jane as oddly paranoid, but then she remembered Michael's injuries and understood why the woman was doing this.

"Hi. You're Jane, aren't you?" The woman's voice was hoarse and ragged.

"Yes," Jane replied politely, without extending any of her usual defiance or anger. The woman appeared to have enough difficulties of her own, so Jane reserved her insolence for Lucas.

"My name's Charlotte. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before."

"That's okay. It's nice to meet you." Jane extended her hand confidently. The woman looked at it as though it were an inanimate stick. Then the woman took her hand and shook it firmly. _Well, at least she has some energy left in there_ , Jane thought. She had the sudden impression that she had just met a new ally.

"Would you like to go into the arboretum, Jane?"

Jane thought this highly unusual, but consented. "Yes. Why not?"

They turned and walked towards the large glass window at the front of the garden. Jane noticed that the woman kept looking behind her as she walked. They entered through the glass door and sat on the other side of the room, using the same bench Jane had used on numerous other occasions.

"I'm not supposed to be talking to you," the woman said simply.

"Because of Lucas?" Jane asked in just as candid a fashion. Charlotte looked at her, but didn't shake or nod her head.

"Yes...and there are others he answers to whom I wouldn't be too quick to trust. See, the reason these facilities exist—what they were originally intended for, at least—is to house people who have proven that they are a real danger to society. They actually have a legitimate purpose, if you ask me. I mean, how are you supposed to jail someone who can break concrete with this...ethereal energy?"

The woman had a point, and Jane showed her agreement with her silence. After another moment, she spoke.

"What is it that's changed, Charlotte? Why are they all running around like this? Why is Lucas manipulating me?"

Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but didn't respond.

"I've seen glimpses." It was Jane's turn to push now. "I've seen images of the water. The ocean," she said, then paused. Charlotte turned and looked at her. "What are they looking for?"

After a long pause, during which she looked at the floor, Charlotte lifted her head and gazed out towards the glass at the front of the arboretum. "We don't know what it is," she replied in a low voice.

"So there is something out there?" Jane said with a sigh.

Another pause. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"We don't know. It's somewhere in the Atlantic; that's all I know."

"You've got to give me something more here." Jane looked out beyond the glass front of the room as various employees walked by, uninterested in their discussion.

"I've speculated, of course," Charlotte said bleakly, "but there's not enough information about it yet. The probes deactivate when they get close. They sent a manned sub down to investigate, but from what I know, it was a disaster. I think they're working on a new approach as we speak."

Jane suddenly felt a dangerous fascination with this unexpected anomalous object, even more so because she was affiliated with it. A silence fell over them, filled by the intense awareness of this _thing_ that Jane knew very little about and that had only recently come into her life. Charlotte turned slowly and stared at the gash on Jane's swollen cheek.

"Did he do that to you?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly.

"Yes. He did."

Charlotte turned away from Jane and shook her head.

"Can you help us get out of here? The man has threatened my friends," Jane said, watching as Charlotte merely stared into space.

"I've seen him watching the recording of the three of you in the cafeteria," Charlotte said, her eyes drifting to the front of the arboretum. She seemed to ignore Jane's request.

Jane considered this for a second, but knew it was imperative that she keep the conversation on track. "Look," she said, "we've worked out that if we can disable one of the generators..."

"You mean you already know how the suppression field works?"

"Yes."

"How did you find out?"

Jane decided to take a chance. "We scanned the area. Three of us, together. We scanned the facility and we saw them."

"You were able to do that, even with the field active?"

"Yes."

Charlotte looked at Jane. "Lucas thinks you exemplify some kind of new power, something that hasn't been seen before—that you're amplifying the abilities of those around you," she said, staring down at her. "Was he right, Jane?"

Jane hesitated. "Yes," she responded, deciding to take a chance.

Charlotte regarded her and nodded. "I presume you can't exert enough force to destroy the devices yourselves?"

"We were considering a plan, and it might have worked, but—"

"They turned up the field," Charlotte said, finishing Jane's sentence. Charlotte looked across the arboretum as two technicians in white coats walked by the main glass window. The technicians looked at them and gave the pair a bemused glance. Charlotte shifted in her seat. "I shouldn't be here," she said, seeming to drift away.

Jane took her arm gently and Charlotte turned back around. "You know he's dangerous," Jane said. "You have to help us. If you're not going to help us then at least contact somebody who will."

Charlotte looked at her, still appearing _off_ , as though she were barely in the room. It was a troubling sight, and Jane could feel a desperate clawing inside her at the thought of yet another opportunity escaping her grasp.

Charlotte stood up. "I _will_ help you, Jane. You have to understand, though, the position I'm in. This is difficult for me, too."

"What are you going to do?" Jane asked as the woman began to walk away.

"I'm not sure yet," she said after a moment's hesitation. Charlotte turned around to face Jane again. "Even if I were able to disable the generator in the control room somehow, the facility has a large complement of security personnel."

"I know that."

"And that's not the only problem. There's an organization..."

"I know. We saw the videos on the news...Ethereal End."

Charlotte sighed. "The only thing left for them to do now is reveal our exact location to the public, which, as you can imagine, would be a disaster."

"And is Lucas doing anything about it?"

"No. His sole obsession is finding out about that thing in the ocean. And since you're connected to it..."

Charlotte didn't need to finish the sentence. Jane considered this, trying to ignore the new beat of panic rising inside her.

"There are defensive plans already in place. They're taking dramatic steps to secure the facility, but...I don't think it will matter." Charlotte's body quivered slightly, and Jane could almost see the wave of panic sweep over her.

"You don't think it will be enough, do you?"

"No," she replied after a moment.

"Well, if they get in here, we're dead, Charlotte. They'll kill us or capture us or...who knows what they'll do."

Charlotte seemed to regard what Jane said, then replied, "All right. Just give me time to think something up, okay?"

Jane nodded at her. "Okay," she replied.

Jane watched Charlotte leave and walk down the corridor towards the metallic door that led to the section beyond Jane's reach. Her encounter with the woman had not gone as she had hoped. Charlotte had said that she would help, but she hadn't said when. Jane didn't get the impression that she was fully committed, either.

As Jane was thinking this, the lights in the facility went out. The arboretum and every area beyond it was plunged into darkness. Jane felt the field go down the second the lights went out. It was like the weight of thousand-pound chains unrolling from around her body. Her heart beat faster; she took a deep breath and rose upward as her back straightened automatically. She was planning on reaching out into the facility to find her friends when she heard _his_ voice in her mind.

_Jane_.

She gasped in the dark. It was Max.

_You're still here!_

_Yes, I'm still here; I'm watching you as much as I can. I can't break through the dampening field._

_I know...it's too strong now, Max, they've turned it up._ Her eyes welled up with tears just from hearing his voice again. She realized how much she had missed him. His image came clearly to her: the dark, beautiful coat and the golden clasps that attached it to his torso. The coat fluttered in the breeze (she understood, in an illusory way) as he hovered over the facility, looking down on her from the dark night above. She could see all this in her mind's eye.

_It's okay; short-term exposure won't damage you. You have to fight them, Jane. You will get out._

_What happened to the power?_

_It's temporary, and they'll have it restored at any moment. Listen. Ethereal End—they are coming, and they are dangerous. It's not a bluff. You have to—_

The lights came back on, dimmer this time. Jane clutched her forehead as a surge of pain went up into her temple. She felt like vomiting and placed her hand across her stomach. She could think of nothing but him, though.

_Max, are you still there?_

Nothing.

_MAX? PLEASE!_

There was no reply. She was alone again. Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood, feeling the greatest amount of defeat she had encountered since entering the facility. She walked to the glass door and opened it, stepping into the corridor carefully. The lights were dimmer. _Emergency power,_ she thought.

Ciara came from around the hallway, looking from side to side. She saw Jane and ran towards her just as Jane felt as though she was going to lose her balance. A light above them flickered. Ciara caught Jane's arm and placed it around her shoulder. They walked on like this through the corridor towards the recreation rooms at the back.

"I think they're on emergency power," Jane said.

"What do you think happened?"

"I don't know...I don't..." Jane began to grow weak as she thought of Max. She had told only Morris about him. She decided it was time to tell Ciara.

***

Jane and Ciara sat in the recreation room later, relaxing on the sofas, mostly in silence. After a while, the power came back to its full extent and bright white light filled the room. Jane squinted and Ciara rushed to turn off some of the lights. They had a brief conversation about what Lucas had done when he had last brought Jane into the testing room; Ciara recoiled in shock at what Jane told her. Now, however, Jane knew it was time to tell Ciara about Max.

"So..." Jane looked over to her. "I need to tell you something. I have this friend. His name is Max."

Ciara looked at her, confused. "But he's not in here?" she asked.

"No," Jane replied, then began to tell Ciara about the various visitations she had received from Max. After a few minutes of explanation, Ciara turned to Jane and asked the obvious question.

"So he can't contact you...telepathically...through the suppression field?" Ciara's gaze fell to the right as she considered this. "I suppose that makes sense," she said.

"I haven't been in contact with him since I entered the facility. I get the sense that he's tremendously powerful. But he once told me that he couldn't affect the physical world because he isn't a part of it."

"So whoever _he_ is, he can't help us in any way?"

"Well, not much. I think he can guide us, but that's about it—for now, anyway. There's another issue," Jane said. "Well, a couple, actually."

"What?"

"There's a woman here named Charlotte. She's some kind of assistant to Lucas."

"Yes, I know who she is."

Jane described how she and Charlotte had discussed the possibility of her helping them escape.

"How long do we have until this faction comes to the facility?" Ciara asked.

"They don't really know. And they don't know which facility they're going to go for."

"Well, we have to find a way out, then. We don't have any other choice now. We can't wait for this woman to make up her mind. We have to try."

"But our abilities..."

"Are virtually zero, yes, but it doesn't matter anymore. We have to do something. If Lucas doesn't hurt us or damage us in some way that we can't recover from, or if that damn field doesn't give us cancer or something, then those guys who are planning on storming the gates sooner or later will most certainly kill us."

"So what do we do?" Jane asked, but Ciara seemed to have no answer. Jane looked ahead and thought for a moment. She wished that Max were there to help her. "Get Michael and Morris," she said finally. "We'll have to bring the others in, too. We need a new plan."

***

Charlotte finished her day of work at the facility thinking of nothing except the conversation she had had with Jane in the arboretum. She found it had stressed her more than she thought it would. When she entered the facility earlier that day, she was sure that she wanted to help. Now she found herself hesitating.

The problem was Lucas. She was right to be scared. What exactly was she going to do? Maybe she could get away with carrying a weapon into the facility, but she also knew that if Lucas suspected any conspiring on her part, he would do _anything_ to stop her.

She walked through the dark just outside the facility along a path that cut across the green area stretching all the way to the wall at the perimeter. Then she crossed the road on the right-hand side and walked through a separate gate that led to the employee parking lot. She had parked her car four rows in. When she passed the second row of cars, she stopped and gasped. She looked to her left and saw him. It was Lucas, standing just beyond the second row of cars, right in front of hers. He was looking straight at her.

"Miss Jenkins, how are you?"

"I'm good, thank you, sir," she said, concealing the fact that her breath was catching in her throat. Her muscles tensed up, and she felt her heart begin to flutter in her chest as he stepped from behind the row of cars. His Taser was dangling in his left hand, which was down by his side, pointed at the ground.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you spend an extended time in the arboretum today with Jane Connor?"

Charlotte gripped the handle of her purse tightly as her mind searched frantically for something she could use as a weapon if she were to need one.

"Yes. I wanted to ask her about her time in the facility and how she was getting on. I asked her if she missed her home," she said. She hadn't planned on saying this last thing, but she thought it best to give him something rather than nothing.

"You asked her did she miss her home?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. He patted the weapon on his thigh.

"Yes." She turned towards him, not knowing where the surge of confidence came from. She had the distinct impression that there was a presence watching them from two rows over. Her eyes darted in that direction, and she thought she could see something that was more like a shadow than a person. She had looked for only a split second, though, and her thoughts had begun to swirl in a panic, so she dismissed it.

"Is there something wrong with that?" she said indignantly, her servile veneer finally breaking and impatience reaching the surface. It felt like her mind glowed for a second, as it was the first reproachful action she had taken against him. It felt wonderful.

He approached her and she noticed his right fist clenched. She gasped, as she was sure he was going to hit her. The thought occurred to her that if he touched her, he would have a serious fight on his hands.

"You're not to come back here tomorrow, Miss Jenkins, do you understand? Your employment here is terminated, effective immediately," he said, the words dripping from his lips in a near snarl.

"You can't do that, Lucas, there are procedures to follow. I'll contact the Committee," she said in a curt, flat tone. _What the hell are you doing?_ a voice inside her said, but the new steel defiance was growing stronger. It was now like a ward of invisible armor around her. He had already turned his back and was walking away from her when he turned and looked at her again.

"You've worked for me long enough to know that I can bury you by barely lifting a finger. Don't come back here, or I'll muddy your history so much that you won't be able to get even an ATM card for the next twenty years." He walked off into the night, ending any further discussion of the matter.

Now that she was outside the facility, Charlotte realized—perhaps more now that she had been barred from it—that she really did want to help the Ethereals. But she wasn't sure if she could. After a few moments during which she just stood in the parking lot, she walked to her car. She remembered the strange, shadow-like presence she thought she had seen. Charlotte looked to that location again, turning her head quickly, but nobody was there—just shadows and light. She glanced in that direction for a few more moments, the wind lifting the hair from her forehead. Then she got into her car and drove home.

She arrived one hour later and entered her dark apartment. She hung her coat and went into the kitchen to make tea. While standing at the counter, she pulled the top drawer out again and reached for the Taser, not quite knowing why she was doing it. She placed the Taser on the table while she waited for the kettle to boil.

She finished making tea and sat at the table. She sipped the drink silently in the dim light of the well-adorned kitchen, staring at the sophisticated, metallic weapon on the table in front of her. She wondered what to do. She knew she wanted to help, but she didn't know how anymore. Lucas had terminated her employment, or so he had said. Would that mean that her access was immediately revoked, or would he take time to do it? She guessed the latter; he wasn't concentrating too well as of late.

As she thought about the situation, a wave of relief came over her body and her muscles relaxed. In a way, although she hadn't asked to be, she had been dealt out of the game. She had known for a while that if she continued working there, she probably would have had some kind of breakdown anyway. She had imagined herself, within a few months, crawling around in a bush somewhere half naked. Now at least she had an excuse to do nothing; she had an excuse to stop and let it be someone else's problem for a while. Charlotte felt a monumental pressure she hadn't known was there release from her shoulders. It felt as though every single cell in her upper body was breathing clearly again.

_You're just exhausted,_ she thought _. That's why you're thinking like this. If you had three months on a beach somewhere, you'd come back in a heartbeat and hold up your sword and shield for them._

The lights seemed to dim around her at the same time she acquiesced to the idea that she probably would not be able to help them—that she didn't believe she was strong enough. It was as though the space around her was slowly losing its power, like the electrical energy of the world itself was fading away. She could see her breath in front of her and found herself thinking _, That's odd. It's winter, but...the heat's on. What's happening? I feel like I'm froz—_

The thought ended abruptly as she realized something had changed in her field of vision. She became aware that she had slipped into some kind of trance, and that somebody was sitting across from her at the kitchen table. She tried to move as the panic spread through her body, but she could not. She tried to speak, but she was unable.

She had managed to move only her eyes and was staring at him now: the figure in the black coat. _So beautiful._ The thought came to her mind, ghost-like, and was gone. She had the sudden impression that the figure sitting at the kitchen table in front of her was the same shadowy presence from the parking lot. She was staring right into his eyes as another thought came to her: _He's not human._ Then he spoke directly into her mind.

_Don't be frightened. I'm not here to hurt you._

Her mind finally seemed to reconnect to her physical body; she found that it responded to her again. She saw her arms reach in front of her and pick up the weapon from the table. She pointed it at the man sitting across from her and stood, backing away into the corner of the kitchen. On the verge of hyperventilating, she knocked over the chair, which fell to the floor with a clatter as she backed up against the wall. To her surprise, the man looked at her and smiled.

"A gun won't be of any use to you."

"Are you an Ethereal?" she asked, her voice low and ragged.

"No."

"Then who are you? How the hell did you get into my apartment?"

The man looked up and around in a strange, half-interested fashion. "Well," he responded, "I'm not exactly here. Just part of me is here."

"Who... _what_ are you?"

"Consider me...an entity. I believe that's the word you have that comes closest to describing me."

Charlotte immediately remembered several references to such beings in her research days. She had even made mention of them herself in her thesis. Pages from the book _First Visions_ came to mind. Her hands lowered slowly as she let the Taser fall to her side.

"I think...I think I know what you mean. I think I know who you are." A slight gasp escaped her lips as the reality of what she was facing dawned on her.

"Good," he replied, the sound of his voice revealing honesty and sincerity.

"Do you have a name?"

"Max," he said flatly. "I came here to encourage you, Charlotte."

"Encourage me to do what?"

"To make the right decision about the people they're holding in the facility you work at."

"I don't work there anymore."

"Yes, I know. I was watching. Lucas terminated your employment. We can work out a way around that, if you're willing. Of course, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. These are decisions you have to make."

She tried to think for a moment, but found it tremendously difficult to find the right questions to ask. Finally, she located one. "What interest do you have in them?"

"Well, one of them is a friend of mine."

Without thinking, she knew immediately who it was. "Jane," she said. Charlotte didn't know how she knew this, but immediately she was certain that was who he was referring to.

"Yes," the strange man replied.

"How am I supposed to help? I've just lost my position there."

"I can help get you back inside. There's not much I can do from where I am, but I can certainly advise you, even though I can't see inside the facility."

"Because of the psionic-dampening field?"

"Yes. I've scanned the minds of various personnel going into and coming out of the facility. I know quite a lot about it now."

"And I presume you know that there's a dangerous radical group that has threatened the facility?" she asked bluntly, the strength coming back into her voice. "They seem to want nothing more than the eradication of the Ethereals."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. They have their own plans, too. We have to try to get Jane and her new friends out before they get there. Failing that, there will be...an altercation. A dangerous one."

Max looked at her through eyes that seemed to shine. They reminded her of Icelandic peaks and winter light. Through his eyes, she saw a flash—an image from somewhere else—of electrical cables being pulled free from their housing in a blaze of light. She shuddered and put her hand to her forehead, not knowing where the image had come from. When she opened her eyes again, it was gone.

She put the weapon on the kitchen counter and walked back over to the table. She picked up the chair slowly, keeping her eyes on his—Charlotte found it difficult, in fact, to pull her eyes away from him. She sat down in front of him, placing her hands on the table.

"Okay. How can I help?" she asked.

"First of all, I'm sure you're aware that Lucas is a dangerous individual. You need to avoid him if you can. You need to go back into the facility and do your best to get into the control room and disable the main generator. If you do that, the Ethereals can probably escape on their own."

"Okay," she said, nodding.

"You should protect yourself as well."

"Yes," she said. "Most of them carry weapons." She paused to think, and he continued to watch her. She could see encouragement in his eyes. "I'll have to get through security. I know one of the guards, Wayne, quite well. If they've revoked my access, I think I can convince him to let me in. I'll tell him I left something behind."

"Good. You won't be able to contact Jane or any of the others before you destroy the device, so go straight through the door to the control room and do that."

"I don't want to hurt anyone."

"If you do this right, you won't have to. If necessary, you can threaten them, or use that sophisticated electrical weapon you have there. Then destroy the device and wait there until the Ethereals come. They'll be able to protect you."

"Are you sure about that?"

He regarded her for a second, and his eyes grew more intense. "Yes," he replied.

She looked at him again, and a thought crossed her mind. She had been under severe stress lately, enough stress to vomit. "Are you really here?" she asked.

"Yes, I am."

"Just shows how deep I've gone in, I suppose."

"Yes it does," he said, raising his eyebrows. He smiled at her, and she found it tremendously comforting. Then he pursed his lips. "This is only the beginning, Charlotte. There are powers beyond either of us now becoming involved in this situation. Just play your part, and don't worry about the rest."

"Does this have anything to do with the Atlantic Object?"

He stared at her, and for the first time, she saw what seemed like real human hesitation.

After a quiet moment during which he simply regarded her, he replied, "Yes."

She stared at him, feeling as though their roles were suddenly reversed. She was no longer in the spotlight, and he was the one who had something to be concerned about.

"What is it?" she convinced herself to ask.

He took a moment to respond. "That's beyond the scope of this discussion, but I think it's best that you don't involve yourself in such matters."

"Right," she said. She accepted this from him, but just barely. "But may I ask a question about it?"

He nodded.

"Does it come from you?"

"It did not come from me or my kind. It came from a race of beings older than us."

"Where are they now?"

He looked at her, and again that strange silence ensued. "We don't know," he said, nodding his head.

He appeared to grow weary of the discussion then. She could detect a hint of despondency in his body language, as though the subject held regret for him in some fashion. She decided to take a chance with one more question.

"Where did they go?"

He looked at her sternly and a shudder went through her. "Like I said, it's best that you don't involve yourself in such matters."

The room then appeared to brighten, and the space around her seemed to swirl a little, the air electrifying. He was leaving; she could tell.

"Go early tomorrow, Charlotte. Remember, the facility has been threatened by a dangerous force completely beyond Lucas's control. He thinks he'll be able to defend it, but he's horribly mistaken."

His image gradually faded and he was gone. The light returned to the kitchen as normal awareness overcame her senses. She could once again hear the sound of the world that had grown momentarily dark. She sat at the table and breathed deeply, trying to comprehend what had just happened. There was still steam rising from her cup of tea, and she took a sip. It seemed she would be going back to the facility tomorrow after all.

After a time, during which she merely sat in the darkness, she found herself smiling. It surprised her.
CHAPTER 22 - DEADLOCK

CHAPTER 22

DEADLOCK

Morris and Michael joined Jane and Ciara after the girls' conversation, and they all sat together in one of the recreation rooms. It was late at night, and soon security guards would be asking them to return to their respective rooms. Morris had dimmed the lights to their lowest setting, and Jane was grateful for this. He sat next to her and, for the first few moments of their encounter, had gently rubbed his index finger over the wound on her cheek. Now she was leaning into his chest; he had his arm around her shoulder.

Jane knew they all felt the effect of the field more now, but they worked hard to keep up each other's spirits. The four of them had discussed escaping, as she and Ciara had planned, but they felt too defeated. There was a terrible fear that seemed to bounce among them. This made it difficult for them to move from the sofas, let alone plan anything.

Jane felt comfortable next to Morris and relished the warmth that flowed from his body into hers. But she was frightened, too. As Ciara changed channels on the television, Jane saw something that would fundamentally alter the way they responded to their situation.

"Ciara, wait," she said as a news channel flicked on. She saw an image of a burning building. The caption "Hong Kong attack" was passing below the image of the woman whose voice now filled the room.

"This building—the site of a devastating terrorist attack—is believed to be one of the locations previously mentioned by the radical group Ethereal End and used to detain Ethereals who are found to be a danger to society." The image now filled the screen. There was a burning building surrounded by police cars and other emergency personnel.

"It is not known at this time what has happened to the facility's occupants." Then the anchorwoman began to report about something else as the screen cut away to a helicopter view of the high, drifting flames. Ciara muted the volume. The four of them exchanged terrified glances.

"Okay," Morris said after a while. "Enough of this. We're getting out of here." Jane looked at him. One of her hands grasped the hand he had draped over her shoulder. She held his hand tighter.

***

Lucas found out about the attack on the Hong Kong facility later that night. He had been in his apartment when he received a call from Denton, one of the few people in Lucas's life whose phone calls he was afraid to take. Denton informed Lucas about what had happened, and Lucas had left for the facility immediately. He hadn't expected an attack to happen at all.

The images of the burning building in Hong Kong were now emblazoned on the bank of extremely high-definition monitors in his office. Every channel was reporting the incident, and details of the facilities and their operations were flooding into public awareness in an unstoppable torrent of information. The Ethereals who had been housed at the Hong Kong facility were now gone—whether dead or captured, no one knew. One thing was clear, though: The New York facility was probably next, and it was too late to begin an evacuation procedure. Such a thing would require time, and the opportunity had long passed.

When he could no longer tolerate the streams of news reports about the incident in Hong Kong, Lucas turned off every last monitor and fell asleep on the sofa in his office.

He woke at eight, when the regular morning shift started, and consulted with the security staff who had arrived during the night and who now lined the external entrance of the facility. He was confident that they could hold off whatever force might come for them, and he ignored the nervous tremble in his hand as he had this thought.

When he had done all he could to secure the facility, Lucas began once again to watch the Ethereals on the bank of flat-screens that fed high-definition video from everywhere inside the facility. He was most interested in the video from the cafeteria.

Over the last few days, the initial group of three consisting of Jane, Morris, and Michael had grown first to four, then to six. Now the main table was occupied not just by those six, but by the remaining two Ethereals as well, who stood around them, looking down at the table and joining in the conversation. Previously, Lucas felt secure in the knowledge that the relationships between them were thin at best. Now, the image of them as a unit generated an unexpected fear in him, and his stomach churned.

He watched as one of them, Morris, left the group and walked out of the cafeteria. The others watched him leave, then resumed their discussion at the table. After a moment, their conversation ceased, and they all seemed to fall silent. They sat there, merely staring at each other. His mouth slowly dropped as a channel of suspicion began to open in his mind.

If what he suspected of Jane—that she could enhance the supernormal abilities of the others—was true, then all eight of them working together might be able to overcome the field. But would it be enough, he wondered, to get through the thick, metallic door that separated them from the outside world? He very much doubted it. The only device they would have any chance of accessing would be the one in the control room, and the lock was practically unbreakable. How would they even have that much information? He knew some of them had been documented as possessing the capacity to scan the physical environment around them, sometimes over great distances, but he dismissed this possibility.

Still, with Jane among them, might they have already found the devices? Might they know where they were? He continued to stare at the Ethereals as their silence continued. Now they were not even looking at each other; they were looking at the table, appearing to concentrate fiercely. Half of them had their eyes closed. Jane was sitting at the center of the group, staring vacantly into space. She occupied most of the space on his screen.

His attention was distracted by a slight movement on another monitor. He looked to this other screen and saw a thin white figure standing at the far end of the corridor that led to the control room. It was Morris, and he was standing in the far corner, motionless, staring down the hallway. Then Lucas understood. He began to move. Rapidly crossing his office, he picked up his weapon and walked into the hallway, holding it by his side.

***

As Morris moved away from the group, he found that the minute trace of telepathic communication they could access through the heightened effect of the dampening field was diminishing quickly. It was no longer possible to contact anyone directly, and it now took a tremendous amount of concentration to be heard at all. If the plan was going to work, he would have to scream at the right moment and hope that they would hear him.

He ran down the hallway, unconcerned about being seen by any of the employees or the security cameras that he now knew were well concealed. Luckily, nobody saw him, and as he reached the end of the corridor, he positioned himself against the wall in the corner and waited. After a few moments, one of the scientists walked by, looking down and working on a tablet. Morris held his breath as the man walked towards the door to the control room, but then the man turned and walked back towards the front section of the facility. Morris heard the sliding door shut behind him.

_Damn_ , Morris thought, trying to find patience as blood pumped through his veins. He had a slight headache but ignored it. After a few more minutes, another technician entered the corridor; this one walked straight towards the metallic door leading to the control room. Morris's eyes grew wide as he screamed as loud as he could, sending a dagger of pain through the front of his face and into his eyes.

_NOW!_

He gasped and reached his hands to his face as blood began to pour from his nose.

Jane looked at the others as they heard the muffled scream from Morris. In unison, they ran from the cafeteria, down the steps, and into the secondary area towards the control room. When they reached the corridor, Jane gasped at what she saw down the length of the hallway. The metallic door was open in the background, and she could see a man staring out from it in shock. Twenty feet in front of this, Lucas was standing above Morris, who was crouched on the floor. Blood dripped from Morris's nose, and Jane could see drops of it leading away to the left and down the hallway from where Morris had come. Lucas glared at her; she saw that he had a Taser in his hand.

The rest of them fell in behind her and stopped. She didn't take her eyes off Lucas as he reached down and grabbed the collar of Morris's shirt. With one well-muscled arm, he lifted Morris's six-foot frame to a standing position. Morris squinted as the fabric stretched over his neck, then gasped for air as it was released, but still Lucas did not let go of the garment. Other people began to appear at the door to the control room, their mouths open in shock. They were people Jane had never seen before—visitors from another world.

Jane could do nothing but stare, her mouth gaping open as Lucas began tapping the Taser on his leg. Still staring at her, he swung his arm to and fro. Morris seemed oblivious to what was happening as he stared in the opposite direction, his eyes opening and closing against the glare of the bright corridor.

Then Lucas's torso surged forward, and he threw Morris to the ground. Morris fell to the floor in a lifeless heap, smacking his face on the tiled surface. He made no further sound, but closed his eyes and appeared to sleep. Lucas then raised his arm and pointed the gun directly at Jane. She began to quiver. She could no longer feel her hands, and her breath was shallow and ragged. She barely noticed the gasps from the group as they drew close together behind her. If only one lesson came from this confrontation— _she_ already knew Lucas was a creep—it was that she was the group's leader and always would be. Then Lucas began to speak.

"Chris," he called behind him. Chris took a step towards the narrow opening in the thick doorframe. "Turn up the field again."

Chris didn't respond.

"Did you hear me? I said turn it up," Lucas yelled gruffly.

The other employees standing in the doorway began to leave. They ran away from the scene in the opposite direction. Jane saw past Lucas as the second doorway opened and they ran through it. The door closed behind them, and her chest tightened once more as she felt the space they were occupying close in around her.

"That could damage them, Lucas. I mean...we're talking _serious_ damage here," Chris said. Jane could detect the confrontational tone in his voice. It revealed the truth of his warning. She looked from Morris to Lucas, trying to deal with both her fear for Morris and the new terror that was filling her body at what Lucas was suggesting.

"I'm not going to tell you again, Chris. Turn it up or I'll turn this weapon on you."

Chris finally moved in the room behind Lucas. A moment later, Jane began to wince in pain. Her hands automatically grasped her temples. The others followed, some covering their faces with their palms, yelping in pain. She listened to her friends squeal behind her as her gaze drifted to the glare of the white corridor. The light itself seemed to transform into pain, and she shut her eyes. She could barely hear Lucas as a loud ringing sound grew in her mind, like a slowly increasing cacophony of spinning blades.

"Get back to your individual rooms now, all of you. If you attempt anything like this again, I will not be so lenient."

Jane turned to leave, staggering back down the hall behind her friends. Just as she entered the corridor beyond, she turned once more for Morris, who was still unconscious on the ground. She looked up at Lucas and, despite the pain, gritted her teeth, feeling a rage that had been—until that moment—totally unknown to her. She was scared of the depth of her anger as she turned back around, but this fear was clouded over by the guilt of leaving Morris there on the floor undefended. She clutched the walls as she left, and as the door closed behind her, tears spilled down her cheeks.

***

Lucas watched as they disappeared down the side corridor leading to their quarters. He lowered his weapon and exhaled. He was happy for a moment; he had regained control. He looked down at Morris's motionless body on the floor in front of him, and his lip turned upward in a careless expression. He turned back around, leaving Morris where he lay.

Lucas walked back through the control room, giving Chris a horrific glare, then continued on to the employee section. He was watched by the frightened eyes of the other employees as he walked down the corridor. Once inside his office, he stood in front of the large bank of screens. He switched the display to the internal video feed, and saw that the Ethereals were now lying on their beds, holding their heads in pain. A couple of them were vomiting. He was unaware of the fact that he had begun to smile just a little bit.

After an hour of this, he paged Chris in the control room and told him to turn down the field again—not a lot, but just enough to let them breathe. It was still at a high level—the highest since it had been activated. Lucas had lost awareness of the fact that he was now acting in opposition to his highest goal: finding out about the strange object that had been discovered in the ocean.

He glanced at the corner monitor that constantly displayed images of the exterior of the facility. The specialized security had arrived in the form of multiple armored cars and a highly trained squad. The occupants of these vehicles had no idea what the facility contained, but they were under orders to protect it. A dozen of their vehicles were positioned outside the facility, and another fifteen or so armed members of the contingent lined the front gates and the area surrounding them on either side.

Lucas was confident that this would be enough to contain the situation, though he felt a quake of panic in his chest as he thought of the burning building in Hong Kong. He had communicated with the Committee regarding the Hong Kong building's occupants, but they had no information about their whereabouts at this point in time; they were presumed to be either missing or dead.

He thought of Jane again and the Atlantic Object. He turned around and looked at the file on his desk—it was always on his desk—and he realized that he had one more task to accomplish.

Oddly, at that moment, a call came through from Denton. Lucas accepted the call after a few seconds of hesitation.

"Mr. Denton," he said as the call came through and Denton's face filled the screen in front of him.

"You still haven't gotten what we need, Lucas."

"No, sir. She has not been cooperative in the slightest."

"Well, you're running out of time."

"I know. I don't know what else I can do to—"

"Don't give me that crap. Take her back into that room and do whatever it takes to get her to make the damn connection. If those freaks blow that place to pieces, we could lose our chance to get this information. Who knows what she represents or why she's responding to it differently than the others, but for all we know it could be a century before someone like her shows up again, and then that thing could stay sitting on the ocean floor out of our reach until the day we die. So get into that room now and press her however hard you need to."

Lucas hesitated for a moment. Realizing he hadn't yet responded, he spat his reply into the air. "Yes, sir."

The screen reverted to the internal network interface as Denton hung up. Lucas didn't know Denton's whereabouts, but in the hierarchy of the Committee, he sat somewhere near the very top. It took Lucas a few moments to realize what scared him most about the call. Denton had seemed perfectly confident that Ethereal End _was_ coming. It was Lucas's first exposure to the truth that Denton didn't care about anything—or anyone—except getting the information. He trembled at the realization that things were spinning out of control.

Just before he left his office, Lucas checked the monitors one last time and saw that Morris was still lying motionless on the floor in the corridor. He rolled his eyes and paged the infirmary to have him brought back to his room. He had been lying there for a full hour before Lucas took this action.

***

Jane breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the field go back down again—not much, but enough to ease the weight that had been pressing down on her body and mind. The pain that had shot into her mind after Lucas gave the order to increase the output of the field had been tremendous. It lifted off her now, and the afterglow—the freedom of the pressure rising off her body—made her ecstatic.

She tried to contact her friends, but found that she could not. She wasn't too concerned about anything, though; for the moment, most of the pain was gone from her head, and that was all that mattered. The only desperate worry she had was for Morris, but about that, for the moment, she could do nothing. A tear rolled down her cheek.

She turned onto her right side, facing the wall, the position in which she had found it so easy to stay in contact with Morris during those initial midnight conversations. Then she closed her eyes, and sleep came quickly.

***

The day after encountering the being called Max, Charlotte drove the short distance from her apartment to the facility, hoping desperately that she was not too late, that they hadn't revoked her access. The _man_ had not given her much information, and as she turned onto the road that led to the facility, she felt as though she was flying blind. She approached slowly at twenty miles per hour.

Giant fir trees lined the street, and the sky was a bluish gray. The window was open an inch, and clear, damp air came through. She breathed in the moisture and the smell of pine. She placed a hand on her chest as she approached the grounds. She couldn't help but take notice of the gloomy sky.

About two hundred feet ahead of her, she could see two black cars parked on either side of the road. This was new, and she immediately took strong hold of the panic that threatened to rise in her at this unexpected sight. Four men in black suits stood around the cars. She slowed further as one of them approached her vehicle. She stopped in front of the man who walked towards her. She rolled down her window, smiling.

"Name?" he asked curtly.

"Charlotte Jenkins."

He paused for a moment as he looked at the transparent tablet in his hand. "ID number, please."

"47856452." She saw her picture appear on the device from underneath its glass surface.

"Go ahead, ma'am. Have a good day."

"Thank you, sir, you too." She waited for him to walk away, then drove slowly through the gap between the cars. When they were a hundred feet behind her, she accelerated and approached the remaining five hundred or so feet without hesitating. Lucas had not taken her name off the employee list yet. That meant she could still get inside the main gate. She knew why this had happened. He had his own disadvantages that were now paying off; terminating her employment so quickly would have required explanation to the Committee, and he would need time to fabricate his story.

She felt a rush of excitement and elation at the thought that she was going to make it back inside to help. This was quickly followed by a stark fear: She was not getting off the hook. She was going through with it after all. She took a hand off the steering wheel as she approached the main gate and felt the cool metallic surface of the Taser in her pocket.

***

Jane was drifting in and out of sleep when she heard her name once again called from the speaker system embedded in the ceiling.

"Jane Connor, please report to the testing room."

It was Lucas. Her door slid open, and she got up and placed her feet on the floor. _Pavlovian_ , she thought vaguely as she rubbed her eyes and stood up. She left her room and slowly traced the path to the front corridor, her feet drifting behind her. Lucas was waiting for her at the end. She stopped as she turned the corner to face him. She glared at him as the tiredness suddenly evaporated from her body.

After a moment she began to move again. She didn't take her eyes off him as she approached the end of the corridor. He turned around slowly, opened the door, and, for the last time, they stepped into the cold, concrete corridor and then the stark white room that Jane had become so familiar with.

***

As Charlotte walked through the front entrance of the facility, she felt surprise at having made it past the more extensive secondary layer of security. She smiled at Wayne, the guard who often worked the front desk, and his expression betrayed what she was fearing: foreknowledge. She tried to ignore him as he rose from his chair and walked straight towards the entrance that led to the employee area.

"Miss Jenkins," she heard him call in an authoritative tone.

She stopped, turned around, and looked at him. "Wayne?" she replied.

"I spoke to Lucas yesterday. He said you resigned your post here and that I wasn't to allow you any further access."

This caught her off guard, and her eyes jerked to her left for a moment. Then she smiled back at him. "Yes, I know. I did. Sorry, Wayne. I forgot something. I'll just be five minutes." She gave him her best smile, but didn't turn, somehow knowing that she wasn't going to make it back in without a confrontation.

He looked at his monitors, then back at her, his expression unchanged. She was suddenly very aware of the blank wall behind her and the equipment she knew was housed there.

"Why are you carrying a weapon, Miss Jenkins?" he asked, his face revealing his confusion. He had nothing but trust for her, and this was an advantage that bought her the three vital seconds of hesitation she needed.

She rapidly pulled the Taser from her pocket. Wayne was slow and reached for his weapon too late. She was aiming hers straight at him before he had his unholstered.

"Put your weapon on the floor and kick it aside, Wayne. I'm not going to tell you twice. You know a shot from this thing will put you out for a good three hours." Her voice was cold as steel, her stance rock solid. A new energy that she never suspected she possessed flowed through her now. Her expression was blank and serious as she aimed the weapon at him. The training she had reluctantly undergone came to the forefront of her mind as though she were reading it straight out of a manual in front of her.

Wayne glared at her from dark eyes as he placed the weapon on the floor and kicked it to his side. Charlotte crossed the ten-foot distance and picked up the weapon, not taking her eyes off him.

"Do I still have access to the employee area?"

He looked down briefly at the bank of monitors below him and gruffly replied, "Yes."

"Good. Get down on the floor and don't move."

He did what she asked, and the frustration he showed now didn't bother her in the slightest. She backed away from the desk and walked towards the entrance. She reached her hand behind her and swiped her wrist over the security device, hearing the lock open with a _hiss_. The door slid open and she stepped through. Her body was filling with adrenaline and her heart began to pound, but the employee area was exactly the same as it always was any day she entered it. People stood around banks of monitors in a room to her right, and people occupied several offices to her left. She had some time to consider her options.

She looked at the weapon she had taken from Wayne, then deposited it in the trashcan in the corner to her left. It landed in the empty metal box with a _clank_ and caused a few people to look up in her direction. She thought fast and smiled at them; they returned to what they were doing. She still had her own Taser concealed behind her back, and as she walked down the corridor, she placed it back in her pocket. She made her way through the overdone, lavish surroundings. She had reached the door leading to the control room when the instinct to glance behind her took hold.

Charlotte turned and looked around. There was nobody to take notice of what she was doing. She reached up her wrist to the scanning device, still looking at the hallway, and the door opened behind her. Then somebody did appear in the hallway: a man named Marc Thomas. He was part of the task force that captured rogue Ethereals. She could see his lips moving and heard the distant tones of his voice as he spoke to someone. Then he turned towards her. Their eyes met, and he reached for his weapon. Charlotte stepped back through the doorframe. It slid closed in front of her before he had a chance to aim his weapon.

She stepped back from the door, pulled the Taser from her pocket, and aimed it at the security device. She fired two shots straight into it. The rapid bolts of blue energy melted into its frame. Then it erupted into a shower of sparks. The room was momentarily illuminated by a blinding flash of light, and she ducked to avoid the molten, glimmering embers. Chris jumped out of his chair and yelled. Charlotte glanced back hesitantly at the security panel and saw that it was a smoldering mess of melted wires—the door was sealed shut.

She turned around quickly, raised the Taser, and pointed it at Chris. She felt disgust as she did this; he wasn't a bad guy. Probably attracted by the money, he had simply been drawn into a situation he hadn't considered the implications of. And he was young—young enough to not have developed the full array of skills necessary to navigate nuanced ethical problems. He was frozen now, with his hands held up in the air and his mouth gaping open. There was a loud banging and muffled shouting coming from the other side of the door. Charlotte ignored it.
CHAPTER 23 - FISSURE

CHAPTER 23

FISSURE

Jane entered the white room. As she walked past the door, she looked to the floor and noticed that the glass from her butterfly had not been cleaned; its splinters still sat near the doorway. She took her seat at the opposite end of the table. As she looked up at Lucas, he looked down at the glass. Then, after a moment, he looked back up and smiled at her.

He took his perfunctory position in the chair closest to the door. He sat down and clasped his hands together on the table in front of him. Although the pain from earlier had diminished, Jane could feel a new dull ache growing in her mind. This wasn't so much a physical pain, but more like a preemptive feeling of panic.

"What is it you want from me?"

"I want you to use your abilities," he said flatly, slowly bringing his gaze to hers.

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"Is it about that thing you found in the ocean?"

He recoiled from her visibly, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "How did you find out about that?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm never going to give you what you want."

He regarded her again, this time with a more penetrating, knowing gaze. "You stopped using your abilities after the accident, didn't you?"

She didn't respond. In her mind, the dark country road with the badly painted lines flew out of sight below her as the car skidded. She wanted to reach out for the butterfly, but it was gone, of course.

"It was because of you. I knew you were out there looking for me and..."

"I don't think that was it," he said, glaring at her. "No." He paused and looked down at the desk. He tapped his fingers on the black glass, one after the other, making a soft, drumming beat. "Do you think it had something to do with your father? With his leaving?"

In the memory that was now rising in her mind, Jane again saw the glass shatter downward, shimmering for a moment. Then it was gone, disappearing into the night. The dull ache in her head grew worse, and she felt her eyes threaten to tear up. She was on the verge of letting go.

"You see, I know the logical reason you would suppress the ability after the accident: You were afraid of attracting attention. That's correct, isn't it?" he asked.

She stared at the desk and did her best to ignore him.

"But I don't think that's all there is to it," he said as he brought the surface computer on the desk to life again. The controls beneath her flickered on.

The room was slowly fading; she could still hear Lucas, but he was receding farther and farther into the background. Now, in a depth she had only ever been dimly aware of, she stood on a darkened land, staring up at the dam in her mind. The sky here was gray, and the land was covered with a canopy of bare trees. The ground below her feet was green and mossy. Somewhere in the distance of this incomplete world, thunder rumbled, and there was a faint flicker of lightning. She looked up and saw that the cracks on the dam were still there from before, but they had begun to repair themselves. She knew that, somehow, this was wrong.

_No_ , she thought as she looked up at them. _They shouldn't be repairing; they should be opening up further_. Then she did the thing she feared the most. She reached out with her mind towards the cracks. As she did, she felt something ancient rise up behind her: a power beyond power. Colossal hands moved over her, reaching out for the cracks in the dam, beginning to pull at them.

***

Charlotte was glaring at Chris through eyes that were wide and clear.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice shaking. He had sunk into his chair, and Charlotte could see that he was trembling, though his head was still tilted in contempt.

"Don't ask me that question. You know why," she replied. She paused, allowing herself one brief moment to have her say in the maelstrom that now surrounded her. "You don't have a clue what's happening here, do you? Do you think this is a game? Have you even considered what those people on the other side of this door represent? Have you considered what the object out there in the ocean represents?"

"I...I..." he began, but she cut him off.

"I want you to open the domestic quarters for the Ethereals. Let them out."

He hesitated and stared at her, appearing to have difficulty understanding what she had said to him.

"Chris," she said, "open up the living quarters. Right now—all of them."

It seemed to sink in finally, and he nodded. He turned around and moved his hands across the controls. The video feed from the hallway outside the sleeping quarters flickered onto the main monitor positioned in the center of the wall. Chris's hands dashed across the keyboard frantically. After a moment, he looked back up at her, his hand paused above the Enter key. He had already entered the sequence of commands to open the doors. Charlotte nodded with raised eyebrows. He jerked back around and hit the Enter key.

Charlotte watched the screens above as they showed the doors opening throughout the corridor where the Ethereal's quarters were kept. The individual video feeds from each of their rooms were scattered around the main monitors on smaller screens. These now showed them getting up and looking in the direction of their doorways, surprised. Chris was looking at the monitors, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. One of his hands moved to his face and he rubbed his mouth nervously. The Ethereals began to enter the hallway and talk to each other.

Charlotte turned towards the other side of the room, keeping an eye on Chris. She noticed his eyes dart to the space where the emergency firearms were kept. She stopped for a second and shook her head at him slowly. He sank back into his chair, and she continued walking across the floor.

She passed banks of servers and hard drives and moved towards the unusual cuboid device seated on a platform at the back of the room. Wires were connected to it on every side; they snaked away from it to power sources and computer terminals showing various readouts from the device.

She lifted the weapon again and pointed it at the strange object. In that moment, she found herself hesitating. This was the point of no return. If she destroyed the suppression device, all hell was sure to break loose. Pages from her own thesis came to mind. She knew what some of these teenagers were capable of. In truth, it scared her a little bit. Was she doing the wrong thing?

Two things occurred to her then that led her to fire at the device and destroy it. First was the image of the being who called himself Max; her body shivered and ran cold at the thought. The second was the Irish girl, Jane.

Charlotte pulled the trigger. The light from the sophisticated weapon once again filled the room. She winced but pursed her lips and kept firing as bolt after bolt of electrical energy hit the device. She stepped back as it began to emit showers of sparks from the entry point of each shot. Smoke rose from the device and then thin arcs of electrical energy snaked all over its surface.

She heard a whirring sound and the terminals around it went blank. She took a close look at it and saw that it was beyond use or repair, with obvious holes all over its surface and sparks still erupting from it. She turned around to see Chris staring at her from his chair, his jaw gaping wide open.

"You've lost your mind," he said, slurring his words.

She ignored him and turned her gaze to the screens in front of her just as the muffled sounds from the other side of the door began to grow more serious in their tones. She heard the sound of futile bangs coming from the other side, but she knew there was no way they could get in without a skilled technician. On the screens she could see that the Ethereals were entering the main corridor.

***

In the testing room, Lucas was making his connections. He swiped another photograph of their old car over the table to Jane. It fell into place next to her hand. Her hand did not move, nor did the rest of her body. Only her eyes darted to examine the photograph. The information was fed into that deeper place she now occupied.

Lucas stood up and, gritting his teeth, walked across the room to stand over her. He placed his hands on the table in front of her and leaned in. He was still speaking in his intimidating tones, but she could no longer hear him. She could see him looking to her for a reaction, but she had none.

Beyond the room where her body was, those hands in her mind were gripping at the wall and prying it open.

"I was not responsible," she said aloud. Maintaining a dim awareness of the physical room her body was in, she saw Lucas frown. This utterance seemed to disturb him more than anything she had said previously during her time in the facility.

Inside, a crack appeared in the base of the dam. It exploded upward through the center. A growing light appeared from behind the deepening crevice as dust and debris began to crash onto the sodden earth below. The mental hands of her mind—figments only—pulled the rock aside. Then, as she looked into the light, unafraid, she remembered.

***

Her mother screamed as the car skidded off the road. Jane had been dozing gently and woke up as she felt the ground disappear beneath them. The car began to fly. In her young mind, Jane thought the idea of a flying car was fun, but she was also afraid. Then, as the car started to fall, she felt something rise up inside her: a dark shadow warping her awareness, coming up through her with tremendous velocity.

"Mom, I'm slipping," she heard herself say, for that's what it felt like. The world around her was fading from view, and the other thing in her mind... _the power_...was taking over. It had never done this before. She had always used it. Now _it_ was using her.

She felt the power work through her, from a depth of consciousness Jane had no understanding of at all. The car froze; she felt it catch in the hands of this presence that had come out of her, as though an adult were standing behind her, towering over her, grasping a toy car in its hands. The small her—her body and simple awareness—felt the car come to a sudden stop. From below, she heard herself groan as she was thrown against her safety harness.

There was little of her conscious awareness left now, and it seemed as though blackness was beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. Still, she could make out the interior of the car and her parents, who were making distant sounds from the front seat. A beat of panic rose in her as her father began to move. He was getting out of his chair; she wanted him to stop.

_Daddy, no!_ she thought as she saw him move. She reached out to stop him, but there was no power left to use; the well was dry. He unhooked his seatbelt and turned to look at her as he placed his foot on the dashboard. She knew what was coming before it happened. His foot slipped, and she watched in horror as he fell against the windshield. It broke beneath him, and he fell straight through it. She heard her mother scream as she reached out her arms again and grasped at him with the invisible hands, but they could hold only so much.

She grabbed him and he stopped in midair. The car lurched forward violently and both Jane and her mother were thrown against their seatbelts. Nora groaned and her head fell forward. _Mom_ , Jane thought desperately as her mother lost consciousness.

Jane had her hands stretched out in front of her as he looked back from the growing dark only twenty feet away. She was holding onto him, but the deeper, darker, cloudy presence that seemed to surround her was also holding onto the car. Now there was a vicious struggle growing between the two. She pulled him back towards her; the car lurched again. She felt the deeper presence scream around her at the strain.

Her father looked at her; she knew what was coming.

"Jane...let go of me."

"No, Daddy."

"Jane, let go of me _now_."

"NO!!"

"Please. Please let go."

The car lurched again, sending the sounds of groaning metal into the endless, dark night.

"I don't want to."

"If you don't, we'll all die." He looked at her, and it was his eyes that opened the final cracks on the dam. "You're mine, Jane. You'll always be mine. Do this one last thing for me. Just let me go and save yourself."

The car lurched one last time and she screamed as she felt a sharp pain streak through her chest. There was a teddy bear she had sequestered at the back window; it fell over her head now and out through the open space where the windshield had been. It sailed past her father into the dark.

She looked at his face, through a field of vision that had become desperately narrow, and her body felt as though it had turned to steel as the world lit up around her in a blaze of light. For a moment—just a moment—her mind opened wide to a power cosmic. She was looking down at herself and the car. She was looking at her father from below. She could see her mother through the broken passenger window. She could see the trees blowing in the wind behind them, as though bearing witness. Out beyond, she could see the mountains. For a second she went farther, to the stars and the galaxies and out beyond them too, to other places of immense beauty that she had no understanding of and would forget quickly.

The car began to move back up towards the road. Her father rose from below and moved into his chair. The seatbelt moved around his torso and was guided into the clasp. Although she was elsewhere, she heard the car slam down on the road above them in the distance. She returned to her body then and saw her parents standing over her. She saw the look of petrification on her father's face and recoiled from it.

"Sorry," was all she could manage, feeling a guilt she couldn't understand. She retreated inside—the surface Jane—and the dam was built there and then: a child playing innocently with sand like concrete. She would remain only barely aware of its existence for a long, long time. She only ever associated the teddy bear with guilt, so she never allowed herself to think about it...and she could never understand the association.

Until now.

***

The dam was wide open, and a blinding light poured out of it.

Jane opened her eyes in the white room.

Lucas had returned to his seat and was staring at her; his eyes were filled with abject terror. A red light fell all around them, bathing their faces in strange, crimson hues. A klaxon began blaring overhead.

She raised her head higher as she spoke to him. "Do you want to know what power is, Mr. Johnson?" she asked in a grim, flat tone. The marbles rose from the bowl in front of her, approximately two hundred of them, and began to move in a circular motion over their heads. The air circulated with them as they created a cyclonic breeze. Lucas was staring at the marbles as they flew through the air above, illuminated by the flashing red lights. He began to tremble visibly and turned towards the door, but she grabbed him easily and kept him pressed down against the chair. He squirmed, unable to move, locked in her grip.

"LOCK THE FACILITY DOWN!" he screamed.

The marbles began to circulate in a more violent fashion as their locus of motion grew. Some of them impacted the reflective glass, which broke yet again, shattering all around them. Jane saw three technicians on the other side of the room scurry towards a door. They were gone from the room before she had a chance to react.

She turned her focus back to Lucas.

"Power is what I have...and what you don't." She picked him up from the chair and threw him backward. He slammed into the wall at the far side of the room and fell to the floor in a heap, unconscious. She looked up at the cyclone of marbles over her as they flashed in the light from the pulsing red beacons. She withdrew her power from them and they dropped to the floor all at once, scattering everywhere and bouncing and rolling all over the room.

Then she walked slowly from behind the table and approached Lucas. She looked to her left at the glass from the destroyed butterfly. An idea came to her.

She reached out a hand towards the floor, palm facing down, and the shards of glass began to swirl and rise into the air. She turned her palm upward when she had collected all of the remnants. They remained there above her palm, swirling in a vortex, reflecting the red lights from overhead and casting tremendously unusual spectral dances around the room. She easily recast the butterfly, watching as the trail of bright, white light passed over its form and the glass fed into its structure. She smiled when it was fully formed, and she ran her fingers across it, thinking of Max.

She stood and looked into the room on her left. She saw advanced computer systems and rows of monitors in the small, rectangular space. She wanted to go and look at them, to see what they had been doing in there, but she didn't think there was time for that, and she didn't feel like taking any further risks.

She went to the door and pulled the handle. It was locked. She remembered now; Lucas had given the order to lock down the facility. It didn't matter. She walked back across the room, stopped, and then turned and walked towards the door. The psychokinetic force rose in front of her like a wave, and the entire doorframe exploded outward into the hallway, cracking into two pieces that ricocheted off the opposite wall. She didn't stop walking. She stepped over the remains of the door, wondering, as she returned to the main section of the facility, who had deactivated the suppression device.
CHAPTER 24 - WAR

CHAPTER 24

WAR

Jane easily destroyed the lock on the final door that led to the main corridor. She found herself walking along a path bathed in red hues: a light that rose and fell on the walls around her as the klaxons blared overhead. She broke into a run and glanced quickly at the arboretum, which was now bathed in red light. The leaves on the oak tree momentarily turned red as she turned and was reminded of some otherworldly trees she had once seen in a dream.

She took a left and literally crashed into Morris. The two of them grabbed at each other to keep from falling over. She stopped and looked in his eyes. They threw their arms around each other. She held his body close to hers for a moment. Then she pulled away and saw through the rising and falling light that his face was still covered with blood. She reached up and ran her hand over his cheek.

"I'm fine."

"Good," she said, smiling. "I got him."

He smiled widely at her. "Thanks, Jane," he said.

She turned and looked behind him, noticing that the others were with him, too. "How did you get out?" she asked.

"We don't know," Ciara said from over his shoulder. "The doors just opened."

"And Jane...somebody took out the suppression device. Watch this," Carl said. He turned towards the end of the corridor where the arboretum was and looked towards the ceiling. Jane watched as his brow furrowed and one of the klaxons exploded, creating a momentary flash that lit up the interior as though it were filled with daylight. Glass and sparks fell to the floor in a brief haze of gold. Then that section was dark again, with only the echoing sounds of falling glass filling it.

"I know," she said, smiling. Some of them were giggling with a wild excitement. Even Sophia was smiling. "Who do you think it was?"

"Who cares?" Morris replied.

"Lucas is definitely out of the way?" Michael asked.

"Yes, for sure," Jane replied. She turned to the rest of them. "I think it's time to get out of here." They all cheered in agreement. "Come on," she said, moving down the corridor rapidly, automatically assuming a position of leadership. They followed behind her. She broke into a light run as they walked towards the second section. Then they entered the area that contained the metal door leading to the control room and the employee area. She paused briefly; Morris came up behind her.

"If we're going to get out of here, we have to do it before they manage to get the field back up," he warned her.

They walked surreptitiously towards the exit that they wanted: the steel door leading to the control room and, beyond it, the way out. As they approached it, Jane knew they would have to work together to break through. She was about to turn around to address her friends when the door slid open.

There was a figure standing on the other side. For a moment, as the red light dimmed, Jane couldn't make out who it was. A second later she saw that it was Charlotte. Her demeanor struck Jane as entirely different. Before, she had appeared to be in bad shape. Now, her hair and makeup were done, and her suit looked good, too. She was smiling and she looked stronger; she even looked younger. Jane glanced down and saw a Taser in Charlotte's hand.

She entered the room and saw that the man whom Lucas had referred to as Chris was cowering in the corner. Next to him, Jane saw what she could only presume was the primary psionic-suppression device. It was still smoldering.

"You did that?" Jane asked.

"Yes. I met your friend," Charlotte replied.

"Who?"

"Tall, black coat, goes by the name of—"

"Max."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Well, thanks for your help, Charlotte."

"Oh no."

The others had filed into the room behind Jane, and everyone turned to Chris when he said this. He was looking at the monitors as one of his hands flew to his face and covered his mouth. They turned to the main screen, which was now displaying an image of the gate at the perimeter of the grounds above. They saw a large vehicle approaching out of the blackness, its lights shining through the gaps in the giant iron gate.

It was the chimera Jane had felt coming all these years of her life, lingering underneath the surface like a huge trembling hand, and now reaching out of the darkness into full vision on the screen directly in front of her. The large vehicle smashed straight through the gate, taking out parts of the wall on either side and sending large chunks of rock and iron flying forward.

It stopped thirty feet inside the grounds and people began to file out onto the grass. They were all wearing uniforms of some sort and were carrying weapons. Other vehicles began to drive in through the destroyed gate; these took up positions on either side of the larger one.

Jane looked at one of the other monitors that displayed an image of the perimeter outside. The specialized security vehicles that had been called to protect the facility lay in ruins next to the wall; some of them were covered in flames. She could only guess what had become of the officers. The men and women of the faction continued to pour out of the vehicles until there was a wall of what looked like a hundred people lined up in front of them, weapons at their sides.

"How are we going to get out?" Charlotte asked.

Jane looked at her and then back at the screen. There were too many of them. She knew now that the occupants of the facility were probably cowering in the employee area beyond the control room and that their protection now lay in the hands of Jane and her friends.

She gasped when the idea came to her. She turned and looked at Michael as the notion formed in her mind. She couldn't help but curl her lips in a smile. She was about to begin passing instructions to them when a voice boomed through the sound system overhead.

"This message is for any staff in the facility that we now stand upon. Your security personnel are either dead or in custody. Turn over the Ethereals to us immediately, or we will be forced to overrun the facility. You have five minutes before we enter these premises and take what we have come for."

They stared at each other as the voice came down over them. Their faces betrayed shock, but no longer fear.

"Thought I fixed that," Chris muttered from the back somewhere, referring to whatever security loophole the group had found to enter their systems and send the message. He seemed more upset at that than anything the message had contained.

Morris looked at Jane. "It's your call, Jane. What do we do?"

They exchanged questioning glances as she turned to them and began to transmit instructions telepathically.

As one, they turned their attention on the door and pushed. The metal in the frame, which was six inches in thickness, bulged and then buckled under the combined weight of their power. After five or six seconds, the door exploded from its frame and flew down the hallway. It turned end over end in an uncontrolled, cascading fashion, then finally clattered to the floor and lay silent.

They heard gasps and screams from the employees beyond the doorway, but ignored them completely. One by one, the Ethereals went through the door, though now they were operating as one. Charlotte followed behind them.

***

When Marc Thomas heard the door that separated the Ethereals from the employee section explode outward, he looked into the hallway and saw its thick metallic bulk fly past the offices, turning end over end and destroying anything it came into contact with. It impacted one of the large windows at the front of a nearby office, sending a barrage of glass flying in his direction. At that moment, instinct took control of his body and overcame all sense of rationality as he leapt to his feet and ran for the entrance. He stepped over the thick door that had now come to a stop near the end of the hallway and swiped his wrist over the security device.

Marc had a history of severe post-traumatic stress disorder that he had managed—only by pulling some very large strings—to erase from his record. He was able to hide the remnants of his condition quite well with medication. Now, though, nothing could stop the fully expected reactions of someone with his trauma from reaching the surface.

As the door opened, he ran out towards the main entrance, ignoring Wayne, who he could see was crouched behind the main security desk, holding up his weapon.

Marc ran straight towards the long stretch of glass doors, completely oblivious to the bright lights of the faction that were facing him just over a hundred feet across the green. He burst through the doors, nearly tearing one off its hinges. Despite being athletic, he gasped for breath. He ran straight towards the men and women who now trained more than one hundred advanced weapons on him, but he could hardly see them at this point. He had no idea where he was going; shock had completely overcome him.

As he reached the flank of men and women, a tall man in black fatigues stepped in front and grabbed him by the arms. Marc stopped moving and jerked his head around, looking directly into the man's face. He opened his mouth to speak—to ask him a question, the most obvious of questions—but no words came out.

"Get over here," the man yelled after a moment.

Marc was pushed into a space between two large, cavernous vehicles behind the row of men and women who faced the facility. As he slouched next to one of the large, slick tires, his awareness slowly began to return. He remembered now where he was. As he realized what he had done, shame immediately overcame him, but he ignored this. What difference could it possibly make at this point?

Marc looked around for the man who had grabbed him. He saw the man just ten feet away, standing next to a young lady. She was holding a tablet and seemed to be explaining something to him. As Marc's strength and awareness returned, he stood slowly and stepped forward a few more feet to hear what was being said.

"Any activity?" he heard the man say to the woman.

"Not much," she replied as she touched the screen with her hand, swiping what appeared to be a map of the local terrain. As far as Marc could tell, it included the facility, which was positioned at the center of the map.

"Will we be able to detect psionic activity?"

"Yes. If they so much as lift a small stone, we'll be able to detect it."

"Good. I don't want any of them getting by us."

Marc stepped up behind them more closely. Through the gap between them, his attention was distracted by the presence of something highly unusual: a man standing on the far left of the green space next to the wall. He was wearing a black coat. Marc immediately knew that the man did not belong there. Somehow, it seemed as though none of the others could see him. His breath caught in his throat then as the man slowly turned and looked at him. Marc gasped and jumped backward, sinking behind the truck and out of sight. The woman turned and looked at him, glaring with violence in her eyes. Then she turned back around.

After a few moments, the demeanor of the woman changed as Marc continued to watch her. She was staring at the tablet in her hands, but something was causing a serious problem for her. She tapped the device delicately, but it seemed to Marc that she wanted to smack it hard against her palm, hoping to fix whatever readout it was displaying.

"What is it?" the man asked her. It was clear he was in command of the outfit.

"Just something...strange," she replied.

"Elaborate, please."

"A massive spike..."

"Where?"

"Uh...one hundred fifty feet ahead."

"How big are we talking?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Big, sir," she said in a barely audible tone.

He turned to walk back over to her to check the display when a loud crashing sound filled the area. Everyone ducked in shock. Marc looked at the source of the sound and saw that all the windows at the building's front entrance had exploded outward, sending large shards of glass flying in all directions. The contingent in front of him was stunned and momentarily too shocked to react.

He watched as the woman in front of him slammed her hand uselessly against the side of the device. She seemed to be trembling just slightly.

"What the..." she said, her voice quivering now.

"What is it?" the man next to her yelled.

"Massive psionic activity, sir."

"Where?"

"Right in front of us, one hundred feet."

Marc looked in front of them, as did the other man, but nobody was there. The frames on the glass doors didn't move, and he couldn't hear a sound except a very faint crunching in the distance.

"There's nobody there," the man said gruffly.

The woman hesitated and continued to stare at the screen. "Eighty feet now, sir," she said in a trembling voice.

Marc felt his heart thud in his chest as the same tremendous panic that had caused him to flee began to creep into his mind again. He continued to stare forward, but still, nothing was there.

"Where is it? _What is happening?_ " the man yelled.

The woman looked up slowly from the screen in her hands. "It's everywhere. I'm reading psionic activity everywhere." The tone of helplessness in her voice was ominous.

Marc watched in awe, moving closer to the front of the line as the first Ethereal revealed herself. He looked down the field of grass and saw her appear. There was a brief flash in her location, then she was there, in a place that had been entirely vacant only a second before. Worse, she was not retreating; she was walking towards them with a look of terrible malice. Her name came to mind immediately: Jane Connor. He knew everything about her, but nothing had prepared him for this eventuality. His lips began to tremble as he watched her walk towards them, seemingly unafraid. Her white gown trailed behind her and she was slightly silhouetted against the lights of the facility. In that moment, which spanned only a few seconds, she appeared like a ghost to him.

He noticed that the men and women of the faction were not responding to this new threat in any real way. He had the bizarre urge to laugh at this fact, but he suppressed it and took a tentative step backward. Just two seconds later there was another flash to the girl's left; he saw it more clearly this time. There was a ripple around the air in the space that had been empty, then a brief flash of light and then somebody appeared. It was a male this time. Marc recognized him, too: His name was Morris. His expression was equally vitriolic. As Jane had, Morris walked towards them, flanking the girl.

Marc was stepping back now. A couple of seconds later, others appeared around them—a girl, then another male. Marc squinted as the rippling flashes of light came rapidly until all eight captives were walking towards them on the grass, only fifty feet away. They were staring straight at them.

It was only then that Marc really began to panic as the worst thought of all entered his mind: They were _outside_ the facility. That meant their powers were not restrained, and they were now moving far beyond the reach of the dampening signal. Finally, the faction responded.

"OPEN FIRE!" the man in front of him yelled. Marc turned and ran towards the destroyed section of the gate behind him. The sound of weapon fire filled the area, its terrible cacophony muting the sound of his own screaming. He turned to the left around the side of the destroyed gate and entered the forest, disappearing into its inviting darkness.

***

Jane walked confidently across the grass; she felt her body begin to tremble with anger. She saw the flash in front of her and knew that Michael was starting to drop the visual barriers she had instructed him to place in front of them. She hadn't thought the idea would work, but he assured her that, with her there, enhancing his ability, he would be able to conceal them for a few moments. That was all they would need to gain an advantage.

She saw a flash next to her and knew that Morris was now visible to the contingent. The Ethereals had caught their attention; every member of the faction standing across the grass had turned to face them. She didn't turn to look at Morris or the others as they appeared beside and around her. She felt their minds grow closer together as a singular focus overcame them. Her gaze focused completely on the man standing at the center of their ranks—the one she instinctively knew had sent the message.

She glanced briefly to her right and saw Max standing there. She didn't know if he was visible to anyone else. He nodded at her and she did the same before returning her gaze to the contingent. The Ethereals were all visible now and only fifty feet from the faction. Jane could see that they were holding various weapons: Tasers, tranquilizer guns. Some had more dangerous-looking weaponry. One man on the far right, she noticed, was kneeling and appeared to be holding some kind of long launching device in a non-offensive position, with the end pointing towards the ground.

_You're going to need a shield now, Jane. Do you know how to create one?_ Max asked.

_Yes, Max. I've got this,_ she replied _._

She heard the man who was standing in front of the line yell, " _Open fire!"_ As he said this, she spoke loudly to her friends in the telepathic voice she had become used to.

_EVERYONE, NOW!_

They raised their hands in unison. A thin filament, like the watery matter of a bubble, appeared before them, first in front of Jane, then spreading quickly, rapidly covering all of them just as the first bullets impacted it. Jane winced as she felt the bullets strike their shield. She could feel the bullets go through her body like tiny shockwaves, each one carving a small scratch on her soul. She didn't care; in fact, she relished it. The shield around them grew rapidly foot-by-foot until it stretched across the entire field in front of them. It moved forward towards the contingent as the Ethereals walked ahead.

The bullets and darts continued to come at them, but they bounced harmlessly off the protective bubble. Each created large ripples that cast multicolored cascading lights all around them. The beautiful lights reached the contingent and echoed back the growing fear from their faces.

_We can't hold this thing up for much longer, Jane,_ Michael said.

_We don't need to,_ she replied quickly as they continued walking across the green space towards the fearful men and women who had come to capture them. The shield rose in intensity. Working as one, the Ethereals channeled their emotion into it. Jane could feel a crackling building around them, like a supercell threatening the most powerful lightning the world had ever known. She spoke to her friends again.

_PUSH!_ she yelled. Together, they extended their arms outward. The shield flew forward across the grass. Jane could see the terror grow on the faces of the men and women as the translucent, rippling wall of energy flew towards them. It slammed into them, lifting them off their feet as though gravity had suddenly been switched off. They flew backward through the air and landed twenty feet away. Some landed on top of trucks, some crashed onto car windshields, and some fell onto the grass, rolling backward.

The wall of energy continued onward, tearing through the vehicles and creating thick bolts of electricity. Multiple explosions ensued around the various vehicles, destroying much of the electrical equipment. It rapidly passed outward towards the gate, still with enough power to lift large chunks of broken rock from the entrance and propel them backward through the gate.

Jane and her friends powered down the shield and focused on the men and women who were rising to their feet and reaching for their weapons. The Ethereals broke into their various groups; the ones who had stayed close in the facility naturally worked better together. Jane looked ahead and to her right; she saw that the man who she presumed was their leader was rising to his feet in front of the main vehicle. The wall of energy had slammed him into the front of a truck, but he had recovered and was standing up. Jane, Michael, and Morris walked towards him. The small contingent of five men drew close and surrounded him.

Jane looked at the guns they were holding and grasped them easily. She grabbed the cold steel of the weapons and ripped them away, hurling them backward into the air and launching them a considerable distance away, beyond their reach, outside the walls of the facility. Three men backed away rapidly and disappeared behind the large truck. There were two men remaining with tranquilizer guns; upon the departure of their comrades, they opened fire.

Morris raised his hand and deflected the darts easily. Their three minds automatically came into alignment as they focused on the two remaining men and raised them into the air. They held them there for a moment, then slammed them into the side of the vehicle. Their muffled groans came back to the Ethereals as the men fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious.

Only the leader remained now, standing by himself, unarmed and alone. He ran towards Michael, who remained motionless as he watched him coming. The man swung his fist rapidly, meaning to take out Michael with one punch. Jane grimaced as she saw a brief flicker of light form around Michael's face. She heard an audible crack as the man's fist impacted the barrier that Michael had raised to protect himself. His face didn't move an inch; Jane could actually see the dim outline of the protective shield flash as the man's fist hit it.

Jane felt sorry for him as she watched his eyes grow wide. Saliva dripped from his open mouth as he screamed in pain. He glanced up at the three of them and began to retreat slowly across the grass, cradling his broken hand. Tears formed in his eyes.

When he was ten feet away from them, Jane said, "Just get out of here."

He hesitated before turning and running towards the gate of the facility. She didn't know who he answered to—who he would be returning to—but she knew he was taking solid evidence with him that she and her friends were a threat not to be taken lightly. This was something she suspected they would need.

She looked around now at the groups into which her other friends had formed. Ciara, Joel, and Carl were standing together, and the large group of men and women they were facing advanced upon them, aiming weapons directly at them. Joel acted first. Jane watched as he looked to his left towards the top of the wall. His expression was fierce.

Thick power cables lined the upper surface in concave arcs. A blaze of white light illuminated the area for a second as Joel ripped the cables free from their housing. Jane saw the faces of her friends and the contingent briefly light up as the flare of electrical energy exploded from the top of the wall, sending showers of sparks shimmering into the area below.

The cables fell to the ground and began to dance around on the grass, as though alive and bursting with dangerous surges of electricity. Then the cables snapped flat to the grass and, still live, snaked across the surface towards the men and women of the faction, who were now totally distracted and staring at them in awe. The cables began to slither from side to side; Jane knew that Joel was doing this on purpose to scare the faction. Then the cables rose off the surface of the grass. Still arcing with electricity, they moved farther towards the men and women, snapping at them in the lifelike manner of snakes.

The faction slowly backed away towards the exit. When they reached the point where their escape route was about to be blocked by the jerking, sparking cables, they turned and ran for the exit. One of them screamed as he ran. They left through the gate and disappeared into the woods at the other side of the road. The cables dropped to the ground, lifeless, as though they were puppets cut loose from their strings.

Jane heard the screech of a vehicle. On her right, she saw a truck fly out from behind another vehicle, skidding in the grass. She turned with it and watched as it circled around them on the grass in front of the facility, then headed straight for the area where Joel, Carl, and Ciara were standing. It was only ten feet away when Joel raised his hand towards Ciara reflexively. The air around his hand rippled and Ciara was violently lifted off her feet and pushed to the side. She fell on the grass and tumbled out of the path of the vehicle.

Carl raised his hands in front of him. The outline of the barrier that rose in front of him was barely visible—a reflective sheen. The truck turned directly towards him and careened in the grass, leaving muddy tire tracks as it went. Jane saw the shocked expression on the driver's face as he realized that Carl wasn't going to move and that he had made the wrong decision.

The truck smashed into the invisible barrier and Jane watched—as though in slow motion—as the vehicle's entire front section was destroyed. Bits of glass and metal exploded and scattered in an omnidirectional way. The man who was driving the truck flew through the windshield. Joel reacted rapidly, reaching his hands through the air to catch him. The man froze ten feet from the truck, unconscious and suspended in midair. Joel lowered the man safely to the ground. Jane could hear the telepathic communication between him and Carl as Joel knelt next to the driver.

_Is he okay?_ Carl asked. He still had his hands outstretched towards the vehicle, even though it had already stopped completely. He appeared to be having trouble detaching himself from it. Gradually, he pulled his hands away, his face contorting with the struggle. The vehicle fell from his grasp, collapsing onto the ground as a smoldering wreck. Carl turned to Joel.

Joel placed a hand on the man's forehead. _He's fine. Concussion, I think, but I can feel his mind. I think he's okay_.

There were very few of the contingent left now as it began to rain. Colin and Sophia were fending off several of the remaining combatants, but they seemed reluctant now. As Sophia projected a shield in front of them, the combatants began to retreat towards the gates. They fired tranquilizer darts at the Ethereals, but their shots bounced harmlessly off Sophia's shield. Colin reached out his hand and gave them one final push. The faction members jerked backward. Looking at each other, they turned and ran back towards the gate, dropping their weapons haphazardly on the ground.

Several members of the contingent were lying injured on the grass in front of them; others were limping towards the exit. The only others remaining in the area were the unconscious soldiers on the ground in front of them. Jane instinctively reached out with her mind, trying to feel for their vital signs. She felt the dim emissions, the gentle hum of their unconscious minds as she reached out with her thoughts. They were all okay, just unconscious. She was glad of this.

She saw Max approach from the darkness on her left. Instinctively, she ran towards him. He smiled, but held up a hand gently.

"Non-corporeal, Jane, remember?" he said as she prepared to hug him.

She stopped in front of him. "Oh...yes, of course," she said. Just seeing him was wonderful.

He smiled at her.

"How did we do?" she asked.

He looked around. "Not bad," he replied after a moment.

Jane turned around. She saw that, beyond her friends, who were gathering around her, the facilities' employees were slowly spilling out of the building and onto the ground in front of the broken doors. They looked in astonishment at the scene of destruction in front of them. Jane glanced at her friends and saw that they were perplexed at Max's appearance.

_Hello_ , she heard him say to them clearly—a collective communication they all took part in.

_Hello_ , she heard some of them respond. She could hear the questions bubbling up in their minds, but decided that introductions would have to wait. She turned to Max.

_What's the best way to get out of here?_ she asked _._

He simply looked at the large, abandoned truck next to them. Then he looked back at her. She saw that the vehicle extended back to a length of twenty feet—enough carriage space for all of them. Jane turned to Charlotte, who was now approaching, having walked from the front entrance of the facility.

"Thanks for your help. I mean, really—thank you," Jane said.

"Don't mention it."

"Do you have somewhere safe to go?"

"I do know a place. I have a friend I can stay with for now. Her house is a few hours' drive," Charlotte replied, already stepping away from them. "I'll take one of the cars and ditch it and then...well, I'll figure something out." Smiling, she added, "They won't be able to find me, Jane. Don't worry."

"You're sure?" But Charlotte was ten feet away now and turning as Jane saw just a splash of doubt in her expression.

"Yes, I'll be fine, Jane. Go. Get out of here before something else happens." Charlotte took one last look at Max. It was a look that Jane could tell was filled with desperate, sad longing, and she understood it completely. Then, before Jane could protest, Charlotte quickly turned and jogged across the path towards the parking area.

All eight of the Ethereals faced the destroyed section of the gate and turned their power on the debris. They lifted the largest pieces of rock and metal to the side, then let them fall with giant _thuds_ , clearing their way to the exit.

After a few moments, Jane watched as a car approached with Charlotte in the driver's seat. It drove past them over the remaining debris and out through the gate. As the car passed, Jane caught Charlotte's glance for one brief second and smiled before she went out of view. The car's taillights disappeared around the corner and into the night.

Morris jumped into the driver's seat of the truck that Max had pointed out to Jane. The rest of them filed into the back section. Only Max and Jane remained on the grass in front of the truck. She turned and looked at him. He nodded at her, then teleported away from the scene and into the truck. Jane walked to the front of the vehicle and turned one last time to face the facility's employees. They were all standing in front of the main entrance, spread out in a line.

She saw one of them thoughtlessly reach towards his concealed weapon. She looked in his eyes as he returned her gaze. She shook her head slowly. He pulled his hand away immediately, as though it had touched hot coals, and let it fall to his side. She could feel what was almost relief coming from his body.

"We're leaving now. Stay exactly where you are and don't try to stop us," she yelled across the lawn. She kept her gaze on them as she walked to the passenger side of the vehicle. She opened the door and climbed into the seat beside Morris. She scanned the cavernous interior. "Do you know how to drive this?" she asked.

"Well, it's not exactly a Toyota, but I'm going to have to learn, aren't I?" After a few moments during which he familiarized himself with the vehicle's controls, Morris drove it forward across the green. Then he turned it around and headed back towards the main entrance. He drove through it, past men and women who still littered the ground beside them. They were unconscious, but would survive. The truck bounced upward as they drove over the remaining rocks and sections of destroyed gate. Jane was lifted off her seat a few times, but after some seconds the road below them was clear.

They turned right around the corner of the gate and reached the main road. Then they were gliding along the slick surface beneath them. Jane saw nothing ahead except the starry dark and the moon suspended between giant fir trees that lined either side of the road.

The cold night air rushed at her through the open window; the wind was filled with the scent of pine. She thought she had never felt so free. She let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes before looking at Morris. He glanced over at her and smiled. He took her hand and held it for a moment before returning his attention to driving.

Every cell in Jane's body seemed to be singing. She took one last look in the side mirror at the destroyed gate and the remaining light from the facility as it dimmed in the distance behind them. After a few more seconds, it was no longer visible. Jane finally closed her eyes.

***

In the aft section of the vehicle, Ciara stared at the strange man who had appeared on the green after the altercation. She knew it was the man named Max whom Jane had described to her before. He was sitting at the end of the opposite bench, closest to the edge and the road, where the tarp that separated them from the flying tarmac below flew about in the wind. He was staring into the night, but then he turned back and looked at her. She gasped for having been caught staring.

_Who are you?_ she found herself asking telepathically, without planning to.

_I'm Max._

_My name's Ciara. It's nice to meet you, Max._

_It's wonderful to meet you, Ciara. You all did a great job protecting yourselves—and the facilities' employees—back there. Nobody came away from that altercation with any serious injuries. It was impressive._

_Thank you._ She found that she couldn't pull her eyes away and felt embarrassed. He smiled at her, and she found herself blushing. She turned away and looked at the gray metal of the wall on the other side of the carriage, trying her best to conceal her thoughts. Through her peripheral vision, she noticed him looking at her. It seemed he was still smiling, so she tried to censor her thoughts even though she found his presence very comical.

They continued driving into the night. Initially, Morris had no idea where he was going. However, he was not afraid of being pulled over; he knew they could produce enough tricks to get past any kind of block that might be placed in front of them. From time to time, Max appeared in the driver's section to guide them. He told them that he had selected a location with an abandoned warehouse that he had found while they were in the facility, anticipating their escape. Based on his instructions, they drove on through the night.

Jane drew her knees underneath her and peered at the stars and the moon above. The heating system in the truck was good, and she was kept warm despite the cool air blowing through the small opening in the window. She thought about all that had happened to her and all that had brought her to this moment. She felt, most of all, an enormous wealth of thanks for both Morris and Max.

She thought of Max most, though. Ever since she had seen him appear once again outside the facility, she had felt as though she could see a new danger in his face. She wondered what he had been through while she had spent time in that place. What trials of his own had he faced? Was there some new threat looming on the horizon?

She drifted in and out of sleep, wanting to stay awake and unwilling to admit how exhausted she was. Morris had encouraged her to sleep, but she refused. Eventually, her tiredness got the better of her and her head fell to one side as she drifted off.
CHAPTER 25 - THE ROAD

CHAPTER 25

THE ROAD

Jane woke sometime later in the passenger's seat, sucking in deep gulps of breath. She composed herself quickly. It took her a few seconds to once again become familiar with her new surroundings. She put a hand on her chest, thinking of what she had seen while she slept. In the dream, she had been on the beach in Wexford. She remembered now as she thought about it that the sand had changed beneath her, taking on a gleaming, crystalline appearance.

She recalled looking down at its white, glinting surface, balancing herself with her arms outstretched, afraid that she might slip. She knelt slowly and placed her hands on the glittering surface. She had felt its cool, flat structure touch her skin. Her hands moved over the indentations among it: the tiny peaks and valleys of its lattice-like structure.

As this large fragment of the memory became clear to her, others began to surface along with it. There had been other people on the beach with her, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember what was happening, or what was being said. There was frantic commotion, light, movement, and sound.

She had her eyes closed then, and just as she was about to give up on remembering, she saw—as much as felt—the presence of a dark, black mass that had been on the beach with her in the dream; it was a being of some kind. She gasped loudly and opened her eyes as she recalled this.

Morris turned and looked at her. She smiled at him and wiped her eyes. She could sense him wanting to reach out for her again, but she didn't want this, so she turned and looked out the window. Her breathing was somewhat ragged for a moment longer, then she finally relaxed.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a bad dream." She saw him look back to the road then, but glance back at her often.

_Max_ , she called.

_Yes, Jane?_

_Um..._

_You want to know about the dream?_

_Yes. What happened to the sand?_

_I don't know much about that, I'm afraid. But the images don't come from your memory, and they don't come from your imagination either._

_Then where do they come from?_ she asked. She heard nothing from him but silence.

_I can't be certain,_ he said finally. She felt him turn away from her. _The future, perhaps._ She saw in her mind's eye as he looked out through a gap in the rippling tarp at the back of the truck. She thought of saying something else, but disregarded it.

***

Directed by Max, they drove through the countryside until they reached the area he had designated for them. Morris pulled the truck into the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse. The door was locked shut with a chain. Jane watched as Morris focused and ripped it open easily. The chain fell from the door with a _clang_ , and they entered.

The interior was dark and damp. Jagged shadows protruded from the corners, reaching down to the floor and across the walls like ancient, dark hands. The smell of industry permeated the room from the moment they entered. There were empty shelves that lined the walls on either side; these rose to the ceiling where the roof slanted upward towards the center. There were glass windows that were covered with dirt, and Jane could barely make out the stars through them.

Joel and Carl gathered pieces of wood from the shelves that lined each side of the warehouse. Michael gathered papers from inside an abandoned office to the left. It appeared as though whatever business had been carried on here had ended swiftly. They took the papers outside and crumpled them, then threw them in the center of the room until they had a pile large enough to build a fire with.

Ciara, Mike, and Morris focused their combined will on the paper and wood. After just a few seconds, it was set alight. Jane saw them smiling at each other as they did this; she could see the elation on their faces at being able to use their abilities so freely. It made her feel that everything she had been through had been worth it.

They placed additional wood over the growing fire. The warehouse was filled with a bright yellow light and dancing shadows as the various members of this strange group sat down and began to talk.

Jane was still standing outside the circle they had formed as the last of them sat by the fire. She had a familiar intuition and looked up. On the left side of the interior was a makeshift two-story office. On the second floor was a window that looked over the warehouse. Max was standing in the window and glancing down at her.

She quietly left the group, walked into the office, and climbed the small staircase to the left. He turned when she entered the small, dark room. It was filled with stacks of papers, and a single desk lined the wall on the left side in front of another window that overlooked a different section of the warehouse. A wooden frame cut off this area from the space her friends occupied.

"What's going on, Max?" she asked. She didn't need to say more.

"So, I take it we won't be doing pleasantries this time, Jane?"

She stared at him blankly. She was glad to once again be in his company. In truth, that was what she had wanted more than anything else from the time she had been locked in the facility, but she was tired and scared. There was what felt like a dark liquid flowing through her body as she thought about the presence she had felt in the dream. Even so, she smiled.

"I'd hug you if not for the fact that you're intangible."

He smiled broadly and actually laughed. The sound brought a tremendous glow to the dark, dank room.

"Yes, I suppose that would be nice again. Human contact. It's been a long time," he said, and smiled again. He paused for a moment as the smile faded from his lips. A more solemn expression stole over his features.

_Who does he communicate with on a regular basis?_ Jane wondered, her brow furrowed at the thought.

"About the dream, Jane. What you felt was another being like me."

"Like you?" she asked.

"Yes, like me. Or rather, a being who used to be like me."

"But isn't anymore?"

"No."

"Why is that?" She watched his face as he paused. The lines creased down from his eyes, giving him an aged appearance once again. It appeared to Jane that he was actually panicking, but that seemed impossible to her. Why would _he_ be panicking?

"Well..." He hesitated and turned, beginning to pace the small room. Then he continued. "He was cast out; I suppose that's the best way to put it. He was cast out by us because of his...motives. I'm not sure if it's a story you want to hear or are ready for."

Jane sat on the only chair in the office and noticed that the room around her had begun to shimmer. She watched as the dark interior faded from her view. Behind it, she saw a field of endless stars and below them a tremendous bright light. She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, then opened them as the dark office disappeared and this dazzling display became clearer before her. The warehouse was gone completely, and she was standing on a concrete platform about 6 square feet in size.

She gasped as she looked out at the bright vista in front of her. This was not the sky of night that she had grown used to as a child. No, this was something entirely different. It was a sheet of light, composed of a billion distinct points, some larger than others. Below it was a beautiful, glowing essence that she couldn't quite see from where she was standing. She was summoning the courage to walk towards the edge when Max spoke to her from somewhere above.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to come up here, Jane? We don't have all night, you know," he said. She heard the comic edge in his voice.

She looked to her left and saw a concrete staircase. She climbed it. At the top she found a sight just as tremendous. Max was standing with his back to her on a road that stretched into forever in either direction. At the top step, which sectioned onto this giant road, which she guessed was fifty feet wide, she looked to her left. Again, her gaze fell upon a blanket of endless light. All around her, the world was starlight, and she gasped at its beauty.

"So...what do you think?" Max asked finally. He turned his hands upward and faced her, smiling.

"It's beautiful," was all she could manage to say.

"I thought this would be a nicer place to continue our discussion.

"Yes, well...it certainly is... _nice_." He was standing thirty feet from her, and she walked towards him. "What is this, Max?"

"It's just a place I created for us to talk from. I've been here with other mortals before. I thought it would be nice for you; you've been through a lot recently."

"Thank you."

"That's no problem."

She was mesmerized by the colossal light source coming from underneath the right side of the road. She looked towards it now as she approached Max.

"You want to know what it is, don't you?" he asked. "Go and look."

She nodded and began walking towards the edge of the road. She reached it and looked over the edge as the light source grew beneath it. She gasped; below her was a galaxy.

"Max... Is that..."

"Your 'Milky Way'?"

She wanted to look up at him in response, but couldn't pull her eyes away for more than a split second from the view below.

"Yes. This is a different vantage point, psychically speaking. We, of course, haven't traveled this far physically. Although that is possible, contrary to what earth scientists of your generation would suggest. Still, we are, nonetheless, right here."

She could think of nothing else to do but sit and stare at the beautiful cloud of blue and yellow light below her. She lowered herself to the ground and let her legs dangle below the edge of the road. She didn't care that below her was endless dark— nothing. Max sat beside her.

After a few moments, she turned and looked at him. His appearance had changed again. He was now wearing a beautiful black silk scarf lined with an intricate pattern that wrapped around his neck. He was hunched down with his arms folded over his knees and he looked at her, smiling. His frame was slim and svelte. In his face, she could see the bright youth of a young man, but also the maturity of someone much older. She liked him this way; he appeared to be at his best for that one moment.

_This is his home_ , she thought, not knowing why she had this thought or where it had come from. She knew as well that this simplistic understanding was greatly overshadowed by the truths she didn't know. She felt mild fear at this, but also exhilaration.

"It is beautiful, isn't it, Jane?"

She struggled to find the words. "It's... it's beyond beautiful."

"I wanted you to see it. It felt important, and...somehow...I feel like I owe it to you."

She turned and looked at him again. "Why?"

His smile faded and he looked into the distance. After a moment, he looked up to the stars above them. "I suppose we should continue our discussion?" he said. He stood and looked down at her.

She stood as well, and they walked out onto the road together.

"What do you call this place?" she asked.

"The road that hangs the galaxies by their hearts."

"Really?"

"Well, I showed it to somebody once before, and that's how she described it. I never forgot that expression, nor did I feel any need to change it," he said. His brow furrowed and he looked into the distance. "So, where were we?"

"You were telling me about the..."

"The one who appeared in your dream. Yes."

They walked onward down the road that stretched on into infinity with the endless sea of stars all around them. In this place, Jane feared nothing and had only a lingering feeling of malaise regarding the being she had seen in the dream.

"He is part of our history, Jane."

"The history of you and your kind? Other people like you?"

"Yes. He has a history of interfering with cultures—civilizations—at very advanced stages of development."

"For what?"

He paused and let his arms fall to his side as he walked. Then he clasped them gently at his front again and looked out to the stars on their left. "To become something more than he was." Another pause. "A long time ago..." he said, but hesitated. It seemed to Jane that the weight of what he wanted to say was greater than any she had ever seen a person carry before. Finally, he simply said, "Something happened." He was quiet for a moment and appeared to be lost in thought.

Her glance drifted from his face to the concrete below, then back again as she considered carefully what her question should be. "What was it you did...or what was it that happened?"

He cast his eyes downward. "Well...I suppose it does seem obvious."

Jane's brow furrowed as she wondered what he meant by this.

He looked back up at her. "In simple terms, we imprisoned him."

Jane was afraid to ask the most obvious question, but after a few moments found the will. "Why did you do that?"

Max looked at her for a moment, his eyes blank. "I've told you before that part of our function is to assist civilizations during an evolutionary event of great magnitude. In the end—before it happened—he was a threat to a civilization that was at a stage similar to the one your world is at now, Jane, but just a little further along. It was on a planet in a system on the outer reaches of your galaxy." He walked towards the edge of the road and stopped, looking down at the galaxy below. She followed and stood next to him as he pointed to one of the outer spiral arms. "There, do you see?"

Jane looked at the four main arms of the galaxy that she could make out. Her eyes grew wide again at the blazing light below. The arms were a bluish gray with hints of orange and yellow. Individual points of immense light poured out from the clouds of dust here and there. As she followed his direction, initially she could see nothing. Then a distinct point of light became clearer among the millions of others as he illuminated it for her artificially.

"It was an incredibly advanced race that showed great promise."

" _Showed_ great promise?"

"Yes. There was...an incident. Their power systems were nuclear-based. He caused a reaction in one of them and decimated half a continent. We tried to stop him, but he was too strong. Six million individuals perished."

Jane looked up at his face and saw that he was also staring into the light, just as transfixed as she was.

"Eventually," he said after a period of silence, "we found something among the many worlds we visited. An ancient, abandoned piece of extremely advanced technology—beyond the biological, beyond the techno-organic. It had psionic components built into its very structure. It came from a race far more advanced than the one I come from, and the intricacy of its construction bewildered even us as we exist now."

She gasped as realization dawned on her face. "That's what's in the ocean, isn't it? You put it here, didn't you? You hid it! From him!" she said. Anger crept into her voice.

"Yes," he said. "A long time ago."

Jane turned away from him and walked down the road, stopping when the distance between them had stretched to fifty feet. She folded her arms and looked up at the stars. In the center of the sky, below the purple swath of a fading nebula, Jane could see a patch of space filled with the rim of a beautiful, blue galaxy. She could see tiny, individual points of light littered around its arms. She had only moments to take in the serene vista before her thoughts were once again occupied by what Max had told her. When she had finally processed all he had said, she turned around, and they began to speak again.

"What was it made for?"

Max gazed at her as he stood against the stars with his hands clasped in front of him.

"In simplistic terms, it's an interdimensional gateway," he said flatly.

After a moment during which they both merely watched each other, Max disappeared with that same swishing sound. Then the endless sea of stars before her— and the road—faded from view rapidly as the dim, dank office she was in came back into view. She gazed in awe at the sight and breathed deeply. The smell of dampness once again filled the air. Max was standing in front of the window, looking at her.

"He's found you."

"Who?" she asked, looking around, still getting her bearings.

"Lucas. He's on his way here, and he has...additional company."

Jane stood up. "How long until he gets here?"

"An hour, maybe slightly less." His eyes narrowed to slits as his gaze once again drifted off. "There's a whole troop of them, Jane. It's a veritable army."

"Damn," she whispered.

"Yes. Damn, indeed. I'll see you downstairs." Then he was gone.
CHAPTER 26 - GONE

CHAPTER 26

GONE

Jane entered the main section of the warehouse below just as the ground beneath them started to shake. There was a rumbling sound, like a minor earthquake, but Jane thought that unlikely. She felt the vibrations run up her legs and into her torso as the foundations of the structure itself began to rattle. She looked to the others, who were glancing around and reaching out for each other in confusion. One of the windows in the ceiling cracked and the glass shattered, falling on the concrete floor with a crash at the opposite side of the dark, open space.

Jane looked to Max, who was looking into the air with an expression of pure fear. His mouth opened and closed as he swallowed in an inflection that struck Jane as extremely human. She was sure she could see defiance intermingled with his fear.

She turned to see what he was looking at. There was a large window that she hadn't noticed on the front wall of the building. It was positioned about forty feet above the entrance. As she looked through it, she could make out the impression of someone floating in the air towards the warehouse. It seemed that the figure was cloaked in a dark mist that gave the appearance of an unusual, long black cloak. However, the garment was formless and its edges seemed to snake around this individual like films of dark liquid. Jane got the distinct impression that the figure was female.

The warehouse and the ground beneath them shook more violently now, and shrieks of panic came from some of her friends. She walked over and stood next to them. They had huddled together to form a circle as Max walked in front of them and towards the window above.

_I'm going to be taken now, Jane. Whatever happens, I'll try to make it back. I promise._ As he turned and looked at her, his eyes appeared as black as onyx. She could see a solid determination in them. _Keep them safe_ , he said, and smiled at her. A second later he was ripped backward from his navel. There was a swishing sound as his arms and legs flew forward, then he disappeared entirely.

A very brief trace of what appeared to be smoke remained in the space where he had been, then that vanished just as quickly. Jane was about to scream out for him, but there was no point; he was gone. She could feel it. She could not sense his presence anywhere on the psychic plane. The trembling from beneath her feet stopped as suddenly as it had begun. She looked up through the window again and saw through its filth-caked surface that the sky was clear. She gasped as the full realization that he was gone descended upon her.

She looked around at her friends and noticed that Ciara was looking towards the floor, concentrating. She could almost feel it as she looked at her; Ciara's mind was reaching out, and a new worry swept over Jane.

"Jane," Ciara said, still looking at the ground, "we can't stay here."

Jane looked at Morris as he approached and put his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes, willing them to stay open a little longer. She wanted to stop running. She wanted to lie on the floor below her—anywhere, in fact—and sleep. She briefly thought of the beach in Wexford and the cabin. She thought of how comforted she had been there. Then the image of the ocean came to mind—the glass-like surface of the water stretching on into forever. Her cells drank in the strength this image reflected back to her, and she looked back up, facing her friends.

"Okay. Where do we go?"

They looked around at each other until Morris spoke up. "The city. It's our best bet. They tracked us too easily here, but we have a better chance of hiding there. There will be too many minor psychic signatures in the background for them to track us properly."

"Okay," Jane replied, not having any better suggestions. "That's where we'll go." She looked around at their tired, dejected faces. "I know we're all tired," she said, "but we just have to push on a bit longer. Then we can find a more permanent place to stay." She detected a spark of anger inside her, but left it alone for the moment. She had a feeling if she struck at it, she would not be able to quell it. "Ciara, how long until they get here?"

Ciara appeared to focus tremendously and her eyes glazed over. "It's hard to say," she replied after a moment. "They're getting close, though. Maybe forty minutes or so."

"Then we can't wait. Everyone get into the truck now," Jane said. She watched as they left the warehouse one by one. She was following Ciara out the door when she realized Michael was trailing behind. He stopped and surveyed his surroundings for a moment. Then he looked up at her.

"Wait," he said.

He walked over to the ground level of the office above where Jane had had her starlit discussion with Max. Then he stopped. Jane watched as he concentrated on the glass in the front section of the office. The window broke and clattered to the floor, breaking into pieces. She flinched at the sound, knowing she was now running on adrenaline alone. She watched as he tore a piece of fabric from his shirt and placed it flat on the floor. Then he took some of the larger shards of glass and wrapped them in the fabric. He tied it at the top and took it with him as he followed Jane through the door.

"What are you going to do with that?" she asked.

"We might need it," he replied simply.

She decided not to question him further. The idea of sharp glass to be used as projectile weapons made her wince, so she followed him out in silence

Once again, Jane got into the front section of the truck next to Morris. She took his hand and felt the comforting warmth move up through her arm. However, she was also desperately aware of the fact that Max was no longer with them. She had an inkling of what had happened: Whatever problems were going on between him and the others of his kind had finally come to a head. Now he would have to answer for his interfering actions.

For a moment, Jane was afraid for him, then she remembered her feelings about him from when she had first encountered him in those dreams that, in their essence, seemed so primordial to her now—he was _powerful_. That's what she had thought about him then, and the memory of that feeling came back now and electrified her. She also remembered what he had done to those men in the house in Wexford, small though his effect on the world had been. She had the feeling that, somehow, he would be okay.

Morris put the truck into gear and drove out of the parking lot and onto the main road. He told her it would take a few hours to get to the city. They planned to ditch the vehicle when they got to the outskirts, then make the rest of the way on foot until they reached the subway.

Relaxation was difficult. Jane closed her eyes in exhaustion, but her mind would not stop working. She lay back against the comfortable seat and tried to sleep. A few times she approached sleep and the driftings of a mild hypnagogic state. However, then she would think of Max and his own struggles—somewhere a vast distance from her—and would wake with a start. She had resigned herself to not sleeping properly when she finally nodded off thirty minutes later.

***

Michael looked through a gap in the tarp at the black road as it passed by rapidly below them. There weren't many cars on the road. He scanned each one as much as he could as it passed. He knew he was probably being overly cautious, and he could feel Ciara's gaze on him.

_Why don't you take it easy for a while?_ she asked. Most of them had fallen asleep on each other's shoulders. Ciara was seated in the back corner with somebody's jacket over her.

_I can't. You said it yourself,_ he said, then paused, scanning farther into the dark night where the end of the road met the horizon in the distance. _They're coming. And it's not like it was in the facility, Ciara. It's not going to be like that. There will be more of them, and they will be bringing greater firepower._ He looked back and saw her eyes narrow in the dim light.

_Well...I feel sorry for them, and what they're going to come upon this evening,_ she said.

He smiled, and this broadened to a smirk.

_Anyway,_ she continued _, there's not much we can do about it now, and you need to rest._

His smile faded and a solemn expression stole over his face once again as his gaze drifted away from hers and back to the road.

_How far ahead of them are we? Can you tell? I can't._ He looked at her as she focused, her eyes going to that distant place they always did when she scanned.

_It seems—feels—like maybe thirty miles._

He exhaled and covered the back of the truck with the tarp again. Then he lay against the seat. Beside him, he felt for the pouch that was filled with glass. He knew what he was planning to do with it, but even that was a shot in the dark—if and when they caught up to them. His eyes darted around the back cabin in the dark, trying to make out the faces of the people who were now his best kin. The man whom he had so recently been introduced to, Max, was gone. Michael had seen him taken from the warehouse. It had been one of the strangest things he had ever witnessed.

Finally, the need for sleep overcame him and he drifted off.

***

Lucas and the reinforcements he had called came upon their vehicle in the night approximately one hour later. Morris had been thinking about Jane and her relationship to this new _person_ who had entered her life and then just as quickly—and astonishingly—vanished. Although she had described Max to him already, nothing could have prepared him for the man's appearance. He had felt immediately dwarfed by him, but now, his feeling of concern over Max's disappearance overshadowed this other feeling greatly.

Then Morris saw the flashes, and in the side-view mirrors watched as Lucas and his forces approached. First Morris saw a dim, multicolored light at a great distance. Initially, he dismissed it out of sheer, desperate hope that it wasn't what he thought it was. As the lights grew closer, though, and scattered their beams all over the road, he knew they had been found.

He looked over at Jane, who was asleep. The light reflected off the side mirror and illuminated her face. He thought that he had never seen anyone so beautiful, and he regretted having to wake her. However, before he could lay a hand on her shoulder, she woke and sat straight up. She looked over at him, then straight into the side-view mirror, her eyes wide and alert.

"They found us," she said shakily.

"Yes."

"I better wake the others."

He heard her speak to the others in her mind.

_Guys, look alive. They've found us. They're about three hundred feet back._

Morris focused for a second and projected his mind briefly into the back of the truck. He could see them waking. He quickly returned his focus to the road.

"What are we going to do?" Jane asked.

"I'm not stopping," he responded, gripping the wheel harder.

"And what if they stop us?"

"Then we'll defend ourselves, of course," he said gruffly. He took her hand and pushed the accelerator to the ground.

***

Michael heard Morris's voice, and it roused him from the gentle sleep he had fallen into. Before his eyes had barely opened, he reached for the glass he had stashed next to him and placed it on the floor in the center of the cabin. Quickly, the others began to wake up. Michael pulled hard on the tarp; the metal clasps clicked in rapid succession as he ripped it away from its holding. It flew out into the night air and disappeared.

He could see the open road now, and the wind blew around him violently, vanishing all traces of sleep. The road was clear except for the series of black unmarked cars and—he was shocked to see—even larger vehicles behind and flanking them. The two cars in front had lights positioned on their roofs; these cast a flashing, multicolored glow over the road around them. He squinted at the brightness of the flashing lights. Then he felt the pull of the truck and saw the ground speed by faster as they began to accelerate. That was good; the faster they moved, the better the chance that what he was planning to do would enable their escape.

He looked down and unwrapped his small cache of projectiles. The glass was jagged and splintered; he dared not touch any of the pieces. For a brief moment, as he looked down at it, now glinting with odd, multicolored lights, he hesitated and felt the familiar mix of emotions he associated with the people who were pursuing them: fear, contempt, loathing. A steely expression came over his face as he ignored the surging feelings. This was followed by a defiance he had never felt before. He selected a large piece of glass, about six inches long with an extremely jagged tip, and focused on it.

It had been six months since he had accessed the power. Even before then, he hadn't used it much, as his family had been perturbed by it, but he had no choice now. He reached out with his thoughts and felt the jagged edges with his mind's eye. Then he willed the glass to move. After a long second during which nothing happened, he felt the energy that he did not understand flow from his consciousness. He watched as the glass rose from the floor and into the air in front of him. It hovered there, obeying his mind. He cupped his hands underneath it and looked up at the cars just as his ears filled with a blaring message from their speakers.

"PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY," came a booming voice from the lead car, which accelerated and pulled forward to the left of their vehicle.

He looked back down at the glass, knowing his target now, and sent into it the energy that had built up in his palms. The glass rocketed across the dark night, a chimerical spear. It hit the car just above the back wheel for which he had been aiming and broke into pieces. The car swerved slightly as the driver reacted, not knowing what had happened. Michael saw the driver return his focus to him, his face now contorted into shock.

_Damn_ , he thought. He looked back down at the glass and selected the next largest piece. He lifted it and once again focused on his target. The glass flew from his hands, and this time he felt the minute shockwave rock back into him as the glass punctured the forward tire on the nearest vehicle. The sound of the exploding wheel filled the night air, and the car swerved violently to the side of the road as the driver slammed on the brakes. Michael heard the sound of screeching tires as the driver struggled to maintain control, but at that speed, he didn't have a chance. The car swerved 360 degrees and skidded off the side of the road, coming to a sudden stop. The car behind barely had time to curve around the careening vehicle to avoid crashing into it.

Immediately, that car accelerated to fill the gap. Without hesitating, Michael selected the next piece of glass and, more efficiently this time, lifted it into the air. Then he rethought his strategy and looked back at the glass. He focused on several more pieces and raised them, too. He aimed all four pieces at the front tires and fired. The shards of glass hit the target immediately, and once again the driver swerved, trying to maintain control of his vehicle as it veered to the edge of the road. It slowed down, receding into the darkness behind the other vehicles.

_Whatever you're doing, Mike, keep doing it,_ he heard Morris's voice echo clearly in his mind.

He looked down at the glass. There were seven or eight pieces left.

_I don't know how long I can keep this up,_ he called back as other unmarked cars pulled into the space that had been vacated by the dispatched vehicles. There were four of them left—two cars and two other, larger vehicles.

_We need to block the road somehow,_ he heard Jane say.

He raised another piece of glass, focused intently on the front wheel of one of the nearest vehicles, and fired it. The glass hit the chassis just above the wheel and smashed. The driver looked up at him and gritted his teeth as he pulled on the steering wheel to adjust his trajectory. Michael locked eyes with him for a moment, totally unafraid now that this new power was flowing through him. Ciara came from behind and looked over Michael's shoulder.

_I have an idea_ , she said _. Morris, you'll have to go a little faster. Put some distance between us and them._

_Okay_ , Morris replied clearly.

Michael heard their conversation and waited for them to carry out their new plan.

***

Lucas watched as yet another car was dispatched with an effortless grace that was disturbing. He looked up at the vehicle in front of him, and at the teenager sitting on the floor, manipulating the glass with extreme ease. Lucas wanted nothing more than to reach out the passenger window and take a shot at him, but he was too far back. Perhaps he would have taken this action if he were in one of the last remaining cars, now accelerating to get closer to the vehicle.

He was in pain, and he knew he had a mild concussion from what Jane had done to him. He was tempted to reach around and place a hand on the back of his head, where it had impacted the wall, but he ignored the thought. "Go up to their left, cut them off," he said gruffly, addressing the car in front through a communications channel that was continuously open. He ignored the lightheaded feeling that shadowed his mind.

"Got it," he heard the voice come back to him, and watched as the front car accelerated towards the side of the vehicle. Then he watched in frustration as the truck carrying the Ethereals accelerated dramatically and pulled away from the car in front. He could see Jane's dim image in the side-view mirror of the truck as it sped away from him. He slammed his hand on the dashboard.

The truck was a hundred feet in front of the forward car when his driver hit the brakes and came to a sudden halt. Lucas felt the safety harness squeeze his torso, and he struggled for air as the sound of screeching tires filled the world around him.

They had stopped. He looked up.

It took a long moment for him to comprehend what he was seeing. There was a lion standing in the middle of the road. It was staring straight at them, illuminated by the front car's lights. It was male; Lucas could tell from its lush, thick mane. He was immediately mesmerized by its beauty. Its form was perfect, as though every fiber of its body had been delicately crafted cell by cell, as though it hadn't been born through the rough, jagged process of evolution.

Nothing else about it was unnatural, though, he thought as the lion turned towards them. It regarded them serenely for a moment, then opened its mouth and _roared_ , shattering the new silence of the night around them. The sound hit Lucas's body, a shockwave that sent adrenaline pumping through him. He began to gasp. He wanted to put his hands to his ears, but kept them fastened to his knees in a vise-like grip. His heart was beating hard in his chest as the lion's tail swished from side to side.

The lion stared at them a moment longer, and Lucas felt as though its eyes were penetrating his mind. It was as though, somehow, the lion knew every single thing about them—every wrong they had done and every trick they had ever pulled in their lives. This creature _knew_ them. Then, after a few more moments, it looked into the open space beyond the side of the road and walked away casually into the night, disappearing into the darkness step by step with its tail swinging slowly from side to side.

Lucas's jaw clenched and his teeth came together in an audible grinding sound.

"Would somebody like to tell me what the hell just happened?" he blurted after a moment. He looked at his driver, who shrugged his shoulders and returned his gaze nervously to the road.

"DAMN!" Lucas spat as he slammed his hand on the dashboard.

***

"What did you do?" Michael looked up at Ciara, who was standing over him, holding on to the handles attached to the roof of the truck.

"A projection. I made them see something that wasn't there."

Michael's brow furrowed in amazement. "None of us have ever done anything like that before."

"No, I guess not. Not any of _us_. I used to know somebody, though...Danny. He could do it pretty easily."

"Who was he?"

"Just an old friend. I don't want to talk about it." She looked down at the black road as it sped past them. "Sorry, Mike, no offense," she said, smiling.

"No problem. Maybe another time?"

"Right, sure." She smiled at him again.

Jane watched the cars receding in her mirror as Morris pulled away, then saw them come to an abrupt stop. Ciara relayed to Jane information about what she had done. Jane felt a swell of pride that one of them—any of them—had been able to pull off such an ingenious trick.

"That's incredible," Morris said with a smile. He was still driving fast, trying to put more distance between them and the cars, lest the vehicles decide to pursue them once again.

"Yeah, it really is. Makes me wonder what we're all capable of." Jane smiled, but already her thoughts were elsewhere. Her fear of the cars was fading away, and she was thinking about Max again. She wondered where he was. She quivered when she thought about the way he had been taken from them. It was sudden and violent, and it certainly spoke of someone's anger. He appeared to have been pulled—ripped—from their reality, and she had felt him go.

In the time she had become accustomed to his presence, she noticed that she could feel his essence; once she was outside the facility, his presence could be detected easily if she focused hard enough. But when he had disappeared from the warehouse, he was gone completely—she could not sense him anywhere. She looked up at the stars. It felt that Max was just as far away as they were—unreachable.

Beyond that, there were the weighty concerns of the things he had told her on the majestic road. Words like _disaster_ and _catastrophe_ occupied her mind briefly before she turned her head and looked out the window, pushing the thoughts from her mind forcefully.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved the glass butterfly she had first formed in the darkened forest under his tutelage. It glinted in the moonlight as she ran her fingers over it. A single tear rolled down her left cheek; she wiped it away. She looked once again out the window at the passing road.

Lucas would still pursue them. They knew now that others would pursue them, too. Without Max, she thought they would be in serious trouble. There were only so many tricks they could pull before they would probably falter...and fail. Their machinations had proved effective so far, but Jane had a sudden fear that they had seen only the smallest glimpse of what lay in store: only the tip of the spear.

She grasped the glass ornament tightly in her hand.

She imagined herself and her small group of friends facing off against Lucas, backed by an army of others like him. They would stand no chance against such forces. So they did the only thing they could: They drove on into the night and _hoped_.
AUTHOR'S NOTE

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you for reading the novel. I hope you enjoyed it.

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