The Eye of Minds Page 16

  He turned back and took a careful step forward, then another. The heads of the strangers slowly pivoted to watch his movement, their eyes zeroing in on him specifically. Michael held his gaze on them, terrified of what they might do. With each person he passed, a choking fear grew in his chest that was making it harder and harder to breathe.

  He pressed on, forcing himself to take each step as slowly as possible. He could sense Bryson and Sarah behind him, but he didn’t dare turn to look at them again. They passed an old man with a large nose and fire in his eyes. Another man with an enormous birthmark covering half his face, like a bruise on his pale skin. A lady with her mouth wide open, teeth white and gums purple. A toddler, a slight smile frozen on his face.

  Michael felt an itch growing in his nose and was unable to hold it back. He sneezed, and the bodies around him twitched again, their arms and hands rising almost an inch. His heart skipped and he stopped, waiting to make sure nothing was going to happen. All was still. Relieved, he pushed forward again, step by agonizingly slow step.

  They’d passed about ten more people when Michael tripped over an uneven break in the floor. He fell to the ground, landing on his shoulder. But before he even hit the hard floor of the hallway, he heard movement from all the people around him.

  5

  Michael rolled onto his back and shot his arms up protectively around his face, but then froze. The scene above was like a horror-movie poster. Several sets of hands reaching toward him, framing angry faces. But they’d frozen as soon as he had. Bone-white fingers with sharp nails hovered over him. And eyes, bright with hunger, stared down. But no one moved.

  Sure that they’d soon hear his banging heart, Michael tried to calm himself down. Slowly, he took several long, deep breaths; then he readied himself and started inching backward, using his legs and arms to do it in tiny motions. Sweat broke out all over his body, soaking his clothes and dripping down the sides of his face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the many locked on him. One mistake and they’d attack—he knew it—and then it’d all be over. Fighting would only cause more movement.

  Happy thoughts, he mused as he slowly scooted away from them.

  Finally, Michael got out from under the frozen canopy of arms. The creepiest part for him was that even though their bodies—below the neck—remained still, their eyes continued to follow his movements. Chills washed through him.

  Ever so slowly, he turned over, then rose to his feet. He looked back at Bryson and Sarah, who were on the far side of the pack Michael had just escaped. Luckily a space had opened up along the wall where some of the people had been standing. His two friends slipped into it to wind around the group, and once again they were all together. Bryson was unusually distraught, his face tense, his eyes wild. Michael wanted to ask him if he was okay, but knew they couldn’t afford to make any noise, so he silently pressed on.

  They headed down the hallway. Slowly. Ever so slowly.

  6

  Being quiet was hard, and the three inched along slower than Michael had ever moved. The pace drove him a little mad, though he was happy as long as the strangers stayed put.

  Gradually the people they passed soon melded into one mass for him. He no longer distinguished between man and woman, adult and child, fat and thin. It was all just a kaleidoscope of pale skin and staring eyes. He tried not to look at them at all, focusing on the distant point at the far end of the hallway instead.

  And after what seemed like an eternity, an end came into sight. Far ahead, Michael could see another door.

  7

  Once he saw the door, the urge to break into a run was almost too much to fight. But Michael held it back. He continued, moving toward that door with deliberate care.

  As they walked, eyes followed Michael and the others. Michael was concentrating on staying slow when a strange sound began behind him, like someone whimpering, and his heart sank when he realized it was Bryson. Michael saw the strangers on either side of him twitch.

  “I keep thinking about Kaine and the impossible code of this place,” Bryson whispered far too loudly. The people lining the walls twitched again. “And it just hit me. What if Kaine isn’t really a gamer? What if … Hey! The code is weaker up there!”

  The last few words came out not in a whisper but an echoing yell. And as Bryson’s voice permeated the silence, Michael’s mind spun into a swirl of panic. Bryson was suddenly pushing him to the side, running past him in a full sprint toward the door. Michael crashed into a cold body, and the thing sprang to life. But instead of turning on Michael, the creature took off after Bryson. All of them did. Every single figure was chasing Bryson, and Michael sank to his knees, stunned with horror, watching the vicious horde storm after his friend.

  8

  Michael understood how things worked. When you were in the Sleep, you were always aware on some level that you weren’t in the real world. The worst-case scenario was that you’d die—maybe pretty awfully—then end up back home in your Coffin, where you could get out, take a shower, recover from the ordeal, and go back to play another day. You were always aware of that basic truth.

  But on the Path, that awareness felt more distant. And in that moment, Michael was torn about what he should do. He knew Bryson was about to experience something that wasn’t actually real. If it was, Michael wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment—he’d have run after his friend and tried to save him. If they’d been in a normal VirtNet game, he probably would’ve done the same thing. It was, after all, a game. But here, if he died, their mission was over. He couldn’t risk it.

  Still, knowing that didn’t make it any easier to hear as the sounds of violence escalated. It certainly didn’t feel like a game.

  Sarah plopped down next to Michael. “We have to hack—”

  He cut her off. “We’ve tried and tried.”

  “Then we need to try again!” Her face was red.

  “Fine.” Michael shrugged. “You’re right.”

  Michael closed his eyes and entered the realm of code surrounding them. He poked and prodded, swam through the data. He could sense Sarah’s digital presence doing the same. But the Path here was even more strongly shielded than before. Michael tried everything in his power to get to the code where Bryson was being attacked, and he just couldn’t do it.

  Sarah tried longer but couldn’t manage to get there, either.

  “Thanks anyway,” she said softly.

  Eyes open again, she and Michael avoided looking toward Bryson. Michael didn’t want to take a chance of seeing what was inevitably going to happen to him. But the sounds were bad enough. Growls and ripping and tearing. Roars of anger, or maybe delight.

  And of course, worst of all, Bryson’s screams. They tore through the air over everything else and traveled down that long hallway as if Bryson was standing right next to them. The cries were desperate, so full of terror that Michael’s heart hurt, as if someone was squeezing it with both fists. They’d signed up for this kind of life inside the Sleep, but, real or not real, at the moment Bryson was feeling every single bit of the torture being done to him.

  Finally, mercifully, it stopped. And Michael didn’t need to look to know that what was left of Bryson had disappeared, gone with the last breath of his Aura’s life. Somewhere far away from them, their friend was waking up inside his Coffin, probably still screaming from the horror of it all.

  Sarah grabbed Michael’s hand, squeezed it. And for the second time in less than a day, he heard her crying.

  With everything still again, Michael could finally think about the odd words of his friend right before he’d freaked out, wonder if they were just the thoughts of a person driven to the brink.

  What if Kaine isn’t really a gamer?

  Michael closed his eyes and felt on the verge of tears himself. What in the world had Bryson meant?

  CHAPTER 16

  AN ISOLATED MAN

  1

  As soon as Bryson’s body disappeared, the horde froze and the hallway became sil
ent once more. Michael and Sarah slowly got to their feet, careful not to make any sudden movements. Bryson was gone—he wouldn’t rejoin them on the Path—and the trauma of being there for what had just happened to him hung over Michael like a dark mist. He wanted to talk to Sarah about what Bryson had said, but he didn’t dare risk waking the undead.

  He focused on the only thing he could: making it to that door. He prodded the code to see if he could find a way to mute their sounds—such a small thing but still almost impossible within the complexity of the firewall. But he was finally able to do it. Sarah noticed and nodded a thank-you.

  Step by step, they moved toward their goal until they reached their final obstacle—the hill of bodies that had taken Bryson’s life. Michael hugged the wall, picking his way over arms and legs. It was nerve-racking despite their programmed silence, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He felt a scorching thirst, his mouth so dry it seemed full of dust.

  Finally, Michael emerged on the far side of the still bodies with Sarah trailing close behind. They pressed on, trudging along as if they fought deep mud with every step.

  And then the door—the beautiful door, Michael thought—was right in front of him. And just like the one through which they’d entered, it wasn’t locked. He opened it and stepped through, pulling Sarah behind him by the hand.

  Before Michael could even get a sense of where they were, he slammed the door shut. It was then that he turned to face what new environment lay before him.

  It was a thick forest of massive trees, mist hanging off the branches like moss. A path of well-trodden earth cut through it, inviting him and Sarah into its depths. And standing next to the beginning of the trail, under the boughs of a huge oak, was a pale man dressed in a red cloak, the hood pulled over his head.

  “My, you’re a pair,” the stranger said.

  2

  For some reason Michael’s first reaction at hearing the words was to spin around and see if the door was still there. It was, set into a huge wall of gray granite. Closed tight. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it—going back to the hall of the undead was the last thing he’d ever want to do. But there was something sinister about this forest and the man who’d greeted them.

  He turned back to face the man. Sure enough, he was still standing next to the oak, his hands folded in front of him. The red cloak shone in the dim light.

  Michael took a better look at the stranger’s face. He was old but not ancient. Wrinkles lined his skin, but he had none of the frailty of someone in the last years of his life. He had thin lips, a narrow beak of a nose, and a pointy chin. And his eyes … they were blue, almost silver, so light they seemed to glow from within.

  “Where are we?” Sarah asked the familiar question. “Who are you?”

  The man’s voice was raspy. “You’re standing on the edge of Forest Mendenstone, a place of darkness and death. But you mustn’t fear, my young friends. Within the majestic walls of these pines and oaks lies a place of meditation where you’ll find food and shelter. And protection from the things that slay and rip.”

  Michael had seen a lot of darkness and death—he certainly didn’t want any more of that. What he really wanted was food. His stomach growled, and he realized that he didn’t care if this guy was a serial killer. If he had food, Michael would follow him anywhere.

  Sarah wasn’t quite so desperate. “What makes you think we’d trust you to take us anywhere? We’ve been on our own so far—why should we just go along with the first person waiting for us?”

  “He has food,” Michael whispered, leaning closer to say it.

  The stranger unfolded his hands, letting them rest at his sides. Nothing else on his body stirred, not even his cloak. “I am a man of peace. You can trust me, young ones. Come. Come with me and visit for a while.”

  Michael almost laughed out loud, but again, he was starving.

  “Okay,” he said. Sarah started to protest, but Michael held up a hand for her to stop—the scolding he’d get later would be worth it if he was able to eat. “But if you try anything weird, we’ll send you back to the Wake without a second thought.”

  The man smiled, not a trace of fear in his glowing eyes. “Of course,” he said.

  The stranger turned to walk down the trail that disappeared into the woods. As he took his first step, a furry creature scurried up the man’s back and planted itself on his shoulder. It looked like a ferret or a weasel. The creature stood upright with its ratty nose sniffing at the air.

  “Look at that,” Michael whispered to Sarah.

  He saw her eyes widen in surprise as she took in the man’s companion.

  “Okay, that’s a little freaky,” she replied quietly. “Reason number three hundred why we can’t go with this guy.”

  Logic had begun to seep in, overpowering his hunger, and Michael was beginning to agree with his friend. But at that moment the stranger turned and called back to them, ending the debate.

  “You’ll never reach the next stage of the Path without me,” the man said. “No matter how much you hack away at the code, you’ll never reach the Hallowed Ravine.”

  Then he continued on his way, vanishing into the gloom of the forest.

  3

  “Come on,” Michael said, grabbing Sarah by the arm as he started following their new friend.

  She pulled free but walked along beside him. “It feels like we’re following a snake back to its lair. I bet this guy’s killed a hundred kids.”

  They’d entered the woods, and the massive trees towered above them. They were thick with foliage and laden with long, wispy trails of moss. And they grew close to each other, with the trail cutting a neat line down their center. The magic of programming.

  “He’s probably just a Tangent,” Michael said, craning his neck to take in their surroundings. The only light in the woods came from the trees themselves, their scarred trunks glowing an eerie blue. As they walked deeper into the forest, the branches and leaves stretched closer to the path, as if they wanted to snatch the newcomers away.

  “Then why did you tell him we’d send him back to the Wake?” Sarah asked.

  “It was something to say,” he answered. He didn’t really feel like talking.

  The man kept a steady pace about twenty feet in front of them, his odd pet somehow keeping its perch on his shoulder. The air was cool, and everything smelled wet and earthy. It was almost pleasant, Michael thought, but a stench of rot tainted its edges. The only sounds were crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.

  “I guess we didn’t really have a choice,” Sarah murmured. “I can’t see another direction to go in the code.”

  “You’re still debating this?” Michael responded.

  “I’m just saying,” she answered with a shrug. They walked for a while in silence until she spoke again. “We need to talk about what Bryson said. It was like something had really clicked for him, but why did he freak out? What did he see in the code?”

  Michael could play back every detail of his friend’s final moments in his mind. “It was such a strange thing to say. What if Kaine isn’t really a gamer? What does that mean?”

  Sarah snickered. “All we’re doing is asking each other questions. We need answers.”

  “Yeah.” Michael pushed aside a low-hanging branch. “It really bothered Bryson how complicated the code of the Path is. I can see why he couldn’t accept that Kaine was able to program it. Seems impossible.”

  “So he thinks Kaine isn’t real?” Sarah asked. “Like he’s just a made-up name by a whole group of people doing all this?”

  “Maybe,” Michael answered with a shrug. “Keep thinking about it. Look at the code every once in a while. We can figure this out.”

  “Okay. Just … let’s be on our toes and stay sharp.”

  “Let’s be on our toes?” he repeated, going heavy on the sarcasm. “Stay sharp? Really?”

  “What?”

  He let out a short laugh. “You sound like Sherlock Holmes. You gonna pull out a magni
fying glass? A pipe, maybe?”

  Sarah smiled. “You can thank me later when I save your life.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my eyes peeled and my ears perked. What do I do with my nose?”

  “Shut. Up.” She quickened her pace to get ahead of him.

  Michael shot a glance at their guide—the man walked smoothly, the weasel on his shoulder swaying with every step but not losing its posture. Then Michael turned his attention to the forest on both sides of the trail.

  The glowing trunks of the trees were thick and tall, rising toward the black sky above. The way they shone that pale light—and how it barely penetrated the darkness of the night—for some reason made him feel like he and Sarah were floating along in the forgotten depths of the ocean. It threw him off a bit, and he pulled in a few deep breaths to remind himself that he was walking out in the open air.

  The trail rounded a tree even larger than most of those they’d seen so far, and as Michael passed it his gaze naturally took in what waited behind it. Just a few feet into the woods, a pair of bright yellow eyes stared back at him. He jumped, stumbled, then kept moving along the path backward, not daring to look away. Visions of the KillSims filled his head.

  The eyes followed him, but their owner stayed put, and soon the path took a turn so that a group of trees blocked the sight of the animal. The creature. Monster. Whatever it had been.

  Michael bumped into Sarah and finally turned around.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Sorry” was all he got out. He’d been spooked royally, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to reach the stranger’s home, even if he had to share it with the weasel-rat-ferret thing.