Kat’s body vanishes as I go through the exit. I’m not sure what to expect next. I’m used to having the disk ripped off the base of my neck, and I’m hoping this experience proves a little less painful. I step through the door and into a warm, bright room. It feels like a foyer between two worlds; all I need to do is walk forward. But I’m not in here alone. My grandfather is standing in my path. He’s younger this time. Aside from his brash 1960s-style suit, he looks a lot like me.
“Off to rescue the damsel in distress?” he asks.
“Hopefully a few other people too,” I tell him. “So I don’t have time to chat.”
He grins. “You got guts. I like it. Probably ’cause you got them from me.”
“Did I?” I ask.
“Why not?” he replies. “I was like you once. Word of advice, though?”
“What?” I ask, annoyed that he’s keeping me from Kat.
“Don’t think you got it all figured out. Looks like you picked up a little problem back there in crazy world. And even when we’ve got our heads on straight, a lotta guys like us end up at the bottom of the canal.”
I was expecting kudos, but I get a bullshit warning instead. I barge past him, through the light. When I can feel my hands, I remove the visor. The first thing I see is the ceiling of a capsule, which is all of four inches away from my face. They’ve found me. And getting out looks like it might be a bit of a challenge. I scoot down to the end and hook the tip of my shoe under the lever that opens the door. But when I pull, it doesn’t budge.
Inside the capsule, it’s at least a hundred degrees. Which might be great if I were naked. The sweat from my forehead is streaming into my eyes, and it’s impossible to wipe it away. I try the door handle again. Again, it doesn’t budge. My heart is racing now. It’s probably my imagination, but the air in here seems to be growing thin. I’m on the verge of an all-out panic attack when I hear the capsule door open and feel a whoosh of cool air.
Someone pulls my shelf out. His face appears above me.
“Mr. Eaton.”
“Hi, Wayne,” I say, struggling to sit up. “Hope you don’t mind if I call you Wayne.”
He takes a few steps back until he’s standing against the wall of capsules opposite mine. Only two of them are lit.
“Don’t bother getting up,” he says, gesturing at the metal shelf I’ve been lying on. “It will be time to go back soon. Right after you tell me where you’ve been getting the disks.”
“You know what? I think I’ll stay in the real world for a while,” I tell him as I slide off the shelf and land on my feet. My legs feel wobbly, but I do my best to hide it. “I’ve been playing too many games lately. I need to spend more time outdoors. And as for the disks—go to hell.”
“I’m afraid that’s not the right response, son.” He pulls out a gun and I almost laugh.
“Isn’t that a little old-fashioned?” I ask him.
“I’m an old-fashioned man,” he says. “A straight shooter, pun intended. I suppose I could go chasing after my enemies in some virtual world. But I’d rather just put bullets in their heads or make a few rotten floorboards collapse.”
“That was you that night at the factory?”
“It was. And now you know just how far I’m willing to go if you don’t do what I ask.”
“Let me guess. You’ll kill me?”
“Absolutely. And then I’m going to let your friends live.”
I don’t get it. Then he steps to one side, giving me a clear view of the capsules behind him. There’s movement in one of them. A girl’s hands are pressed against the interior of the capsule as if she’s trying to force her way out. But there’s no room to move, nowhere to go. I know her panic. It feels like being buried alive. And my own body almost collapses when I realize that the girl in the capsule is Kat. My eyes jump to the capsule beside hers. I see the toes twitch and I get a glimpse of male legs. It has to be Milo Yolkin.
“I’m guessing you didn’t foresee this turn of events, did you?” Wayne Gibson asks with a satisfied smirk. “The capsules don’t open from the inside. I made sure of that. Katherine and Milo left Otherworld, but I think they’re probably regretting that decision right about now. I switched off their meds. They’re not paralyzed, but they’re not going anywhere either. And this is exactly how they’re going to stay unless you tell me where you’ve been getting the disks. I’m not sure I’d keep them waiting if I were you. How long do you suppose it will take for the two of them to lose their minds?”
I’ve seen people die in countless ways, but none compares to the horror Wayne Gibbons just described. “You’re a goddamn monster,” I growl.
“Not at all,” he argues. “I’m giving the three of you a chance to return to Otherworld. Milo’s private exit will need to go, though. We’ll let him out from time to time. You’ll have to stay in his nasty little world, of course. But heck, it’s better than the alternatives, wouldn’t you say?”
“What’s all this for, Wayne?” I ask, trying to buy some time. “I’m just curious. What motivates a man like you? Is it money?”
“Nope. It’s about progress, son. Well, and large amounts of money—but mainly progress. It’s always required human sacrifice. You know how many men died building the Brooklyn Bridge? Or the Panama Canal? People like Mr. Yolkin here like to think that the world runs on their brainpower. People like me know that the world runs on blood. Now tell me what I need to know, Mr. Eaton. I’m finished with small talk.”
“Me too,” I tell him. “Go ahead and shoot.”
I’m waiting for the sound of the gun. Instead my ears are assaulted by another noise. A siren has gone off overhead and a red light is flashing above Milo’s capsule. Wayne Gibbons looks like he’s just been punched in the face. He holsters his gun and peers through the capsule’s window. Then he opens the latch and pulls the body out.
I’m frozen in place by the sight. Milo Yolkin barely looks human. His body is so emaciated that I can see every bone in his skeleton. Dark purple circles surround his eyes, and his shaved scalp is covered in strange brown patches. The heart monitor inside the capsule has flatlined.
“Help me, goddamn it!” Wayne shouts. “We need him alive!” He’s started chest compressions and CPR. It’s not going to make any difference. Even I can see that. But I let Wayne finish making the effort. Then I attack. I grab his gun from its holster with my left hand just before my right smashes into his face. Three more jabs and Wayne’s down on the ground. I raise my foot, and I’m just getting ready to stomp him to death when I catch a glimpse of Kat inside her capsule. It takes all the self-control I can muster to pull myself back from the brink. I put my foot down and point the gun at Kat’s stepfather instead.
“Get up and get on,” I tell Wayne, pointing at the sliding metal shelf that I recently left.
He looks at the gun and then up at me. “You aren’t going to shoot,” he says, gasping for air.
“You sure about that?” I ask, giving him a quick kick in the gut. “Do you have any idea how many people I had to kill to make it through Otherworld? Do you really think one more would make a difference? Get on the goddamn shelf.”
“Shoot,” he says.
There’s a deafening bang, and I have no idea what’s happened until I see Wayne lying flat on the floor. I glance down at the gun in my hand and the finger that’s just pulled the trigger. Wayne’s groaning while a pool of blood spreads out around him.
What the hell did I just do?
I shove the gun into the waistband of my pants, open Kat’s capsule and pull her out. “Simon!” she gasps as I peel off my T-shirt and help her into it. “What happened to Wayne? Oh my God, is that Milo?”
“I’ll tell you everything when we’re safe. But first we’ve got to get out of here,” I say.
When Kat slides down to the floor, she shrieks with pain. “There’s something wrong with my leg.”
“Hold on to my neck,” I tell her, and I gather her up in my arms. The time in the capsule has taken its toll on her as well. She’s light as a feather.
“What about the others?” she asks.
“We can’t save them if we’re dead,” I tell her. “We’ll have to come back.”
I carry Kat up the stairs and down the hall. We’ve gotten as far as the lobby when it becomes clear that we won’t be going any farther. Black SUVs have pulled up in front of the building, and the men pouring out are already charging through the door. I have the gun in my waistband, but I’d have to put Kat down to reach it.
“Go!” she says. “Leave me here and get out another way.”
“No,” I tell her. I remember Carole saying the same thing. But Carole was sacrificing herself to save me. I’m saving myself. There would be no point in surviving if Kat were to die.
Then I spot movement in the parking lot. And I know what’s about to happen, as if I’ve somehow managed to read Busara’s mind. I drop to my knees behind one of the couches in the lobby a split second before the crash. Kat screams as glass flies in every direction. Large shards embed themselves in the walls. I’m up the second it’s over, with Kat in my arms. Busara’s car is in the middle of the large room. I open the back door and toss Kat inside, then throw my own body in after hers.
The door of the car is still open as we crash back out through the front of the building, skid across some grass and race down the driveway and onto Dandelion Drive. Busara runs every red light on the way out of Brockenhurst. I manage to get the door closed, but no one says a word until we’re on I-95. I don’t even know if we’re heading north or south.
“So?” Busara finally asks.
I could spend the next three hours going through everything, but it would all boil down to two sentences. “Milo’s dead,” I tell her. “But your dad isn’t.”
Busara gasps and the car swerves across the highway. “What?”
“We saw him in Otherworld. He’s trapped in the ice inside Magna’s cave,” Kat says.
“And his body?”
“It must be at the facility,” I say.
“The one we just left?” Busara wails.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I promise we’ll go back for him. And Gorog. And all the rest of them too.”
“They won’t be there when we do,” Busara says. “The Company will have that place emptied out before sunrise.”
“And they’ll be looking for us everywhere,” Kat adds.
“We don’t have any money and we can’t use credit cards,” Busara points out. “And none of us can go home.”
But I know what to do.
“I think it’s time to pay a visit to my friend Elvis,” I tell them.