Threader origins, p.5
Threader Origins, page 5
Darwin slowed down again. Lyell pulled harder and Darwin almost ran to keep up with him.
“For Christ’s sake, keep moving,” Lyell whispered.
“You’re not making any sense. A second ago you said my dad was back in his lab. Now you’re telling me he’s been dead for five years?” Even saying the words opened a hole in Darwin’s chest filled with pain and guilt and memories of his mom. He slammed it shut as fast as he could. It was a world he didn’t want to imagine. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost the only person who meant anything to him. He slowed his pace again, and Lyell matched it. The guy must be some form of simpleton who didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. What did Lyell mean by the Source . . . the QPS? “Dad was only running at full power today, as a test. Not five years ago. And he’s sure as hell not dead. I was with him just this morning.”
“I said our Henry Lloyd. We don’t have time for a history lesson now, I need to get you prepared.”
“History lesson? This is my life we’re talking about.” Darwin paused, Lyell’s words finally sinking in, and he felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. “Prepare me for what?” He stumbled as they took the first step down to the lobby, catching himself on the railing.
“We’ll have to talk about that later. If we can. We’re running out of time. Your being here is as confusing to us as it is to you. Whatever is going on, Henslow has a plan. You can be sure of that. I have no idea what she’s going to do with you, but I can’t imagine it’s good. The Qabal are not nice people, Darwin. They use the Threads . . . the power . . . for whatever they want. They enslave or remove everyone and everything that gets in the way of their plans.”
They reached the bottom of the curving staircase. Three people stood by the front door, the blue of their jackets standing out from the black stone surrounding it. One of them was Michael, the guy who had taken care of his cut. His was the only face that didn’t seem to hold some malice as they watched Darwin.
He walked quietly by Lyell’s side, too confused by what he was hearing to ask any more questions. And if he was being honest with himself, terrified by it. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, and his stomach felt like he was about to jump off a cliff. Things were getting weirder by the minute. Once he got to this Henslow woman, he was going to try to get some answers—she seemed to be the one in charge.
Lyell pushed open the security door to the back offices and led Darwin through.
“We’re out of time. We’ve got to see what Henslow is up to. We don’t think she knows how you got here, but if she does . . . That’s more power than anyone should have. Especially the Qabal.” He paused at the door to the basement and lowered his voice, the words rushing from his mouth. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure you’re safe, but you’ve got to go through with whatever she has planned. Get her to talk. If it turns bad, we’ll try to get you out. Michael is waiting at the front door, just in case. You’ll need one of us to get past the net.”
Lyell’s words did nothing to make Darwin feel better. They did just the opposite. He followed Lyell down the stairs in a daze. They reached the bottom and entered the hallway leading to the lab. The woman he had seen earlier stood there waiting for them. When they got closer, Lyell dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“Revered Mother. As you requested, I have brought Darwin.”
Henslow smiled. “Thank you, Lyell. Please join the others in the Sanctum and let them know to begin preparing. Darwin and I will be there shortly.”
* * *
• • •
“Come, Darwin. Let’s move away from the door while the others arrive.” She grabbed his elbow and led him further down the hall to a small room and closed the door behind them. An old mop bucket stood in the corner and two chairs lined the wall. The only light came from a bare bulb on the ceiling. “There are some things you will be hearing in the Sanctum that I’d like to explain first. Please, sit down.”
Darwin grabbed the first chair and sat, not allowing Henslow to get between him and the door. He hated having his back to a door at the best of times, but there was no way he was going to let someone get between him and his only possible escape route. He waited for her to make the first move, his leg bouncing in time with his heartbeat. She pulled the second chair away from the wall, closing the gap between them, and sat down. He slid his chair back to create more space.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked.
Darwin shook his head.
“I’m Rebecca.” She paused. “Rebecca Henslow. As you’ve heard, most people call me Revered Mother. I am the leader of these people, both physically and spiritually. You are Darwin Lloyd, son of Henry Lloyd.”
As she spoke, Rebecca pulled her hair away from her face and into a ponytail. With her face showing completely and her hair pulled back, the realization of who she was came into sharp focus.
“You’re Rebecca! We worked together for a while on the QPS monitoring systems. What the hell is going on here?”
Rebecca smiled and continued as if Darwin hadn’t spoken at all. “You came to us, remember? Something like this has never happened before, and we’d like to find out how you did it. All we know right now is that the Source in your world was turned on. Each Source entangles with the others. Each entanglement strengthens the whole. If people can move between worlds using the entanglement, it changes many things.”
“Look, lady, you’re insane. Even I can see that. Just tell me where my dad is and let me out of here.”
Rebecca stood, pushing her chair away until it banged into the far wall. Darwin cringed as her face hardened and her eyes flashed steel. “How dare—” She took a deep breath, pulled the chair close, and sat down again. “Please don’t interrupt.” Her voice turned cold and hard. “When we are in there, we’ll be asking you some questions. Once our questions are answered, we’ll take care of you.”
She was sitting closer now, and Darwin could feel her breath on his face. He fought the urge to shift even farther back. The closed door wouldn’t have let him anyway.
“And if I don’t answer the questions?”
“Although there are several potential outcomes, the Quorum will be guiding the Threads. Your choices will have already been made.”
All of the frustration and doubt and rage that had been sparking in him all day roared to the surface in a white heat that burned in his chest. “My choices have already been made? Who the hell do you think you are?” He stood and reached for the door, stopping with his hand on the knob. Rebecca stayed where she was. “I want to know where the hell I am, because it sure as hell isn’t Quantum Labs. You people went a long way to make it look like it, but it’s not. I’ve been a prisoner all day, locked in that damn office upstairs, not allowed to talk to anyone. Now it’s my turn. I want answers and I want them now.”
“Sit. Down.”
“No! Where’s my dad?” Darwin gripped the doorknob so tightly, the knuckles on his hand turned white.
Rebecca’s voice transformed into a hard whisper. “I said sit down. Now.”
She stood and raised her hand as if she was about to slap him. Her hand separated into two images, then four, all within a split second. He flinched, catching the leg of his chair with his heel. The chair spun, and Darwin reeled into it, falling backward until he was sitting with his shoulders pressed into the door. He stared at her single hand, the multiple images gone.
Oh god, it was happening again.
“Next time I tell you to do something, Darwin, you will do it. Don’t make me do it for you again.” She took a deep breath. “The probabilities were slim on the easy way working, but I thought I’d give you the chance.”
The door opened and Darwin almost fell back into the hallway before two men grabbed his arms and dragged him toward his dad’s lab.
What the hell did she mean, make me do it for you again?
* * *
• • •
Darwin twisted and pulled as the men dragged him down the hall, fighting to free his arms from their grip. He lashed out with his feet, flailing them in the air until he felt an impact. The man on his right grunted and wrenched Darwin’s arm until his shoulder screamed in agony. He felt it pull from its socket before it settled back into place. Even when the twisting stopped, the burning pain continued, bringing tears to his eyes. He stopped struggling, realizing the only thing he was really doing was making it harder for him to actually get away if—when—a chance came. If he appeared meek and docile, maybe they would relax a bit and he’d be able to yank his arms free.
Whatever he had to do to get out, whatever it took, he would do it. The more he told himself that, the more confidence he felt. It still took all of the lessons he’d learned in his therapy sessions—all self-taught to hide his emotions, his feelings, from the doctors—to calm himself. He forced his breathing to slow, and his racing heart followed. His pace quickened to keep up with his captors. Their grip didn’t loosen, but at least he wasn’t being dragged along.
He thought he had an opportunity when they reached the door to the lab. One of the men let go of his arm and he tensed. The man held the door open with his foot and grabbed Darwin’s arm again before he could make a move.
His view of the door was blocked by the man’s back as it opened. Had he swiped a security card to get in, like his dad had done? Darwin silently cursed himself for not paying attention before realizing it didn’t matter. The damn locks were meant to keep people out, not in. When he started running, the doors would just open for him. Besides, Lyell hadn’t used one to get into the office area from the lobby.
He almost stopped when the next idea hit him. The thugs gripped even tighter and pulled him along with them. Office buildings weren’t prisons. Who cared if there was a lock on the door when he was upstairs? The walls were made of drywall. All he had to do was bust through to the next room and check its door, then just keep on doing that until he hit a hallway or found one he could get out of. There hadn’t been any guards when Lyell had come to get him. With his anti-static jacket, he had a chance of blending in and walking out the door into the parking lot. After going through a wall or two, it wouldn’t look so clean anymore. He’d spent so much time moping and sleeping he hadn’t even thought about it.
The plan, such as it was, was in place. Get through whatever they were doing in the lab, and then walk out later when no one was looking. Once he was gone, he’d figure out a way to find his dad. He felt giddy with the idea.
Something Lyell had said about getting out niggled in the back of his head.
* * *
• • •
The lab was filled with a dozen or more people, creating a corridor of blue jackets leading from the door to the QPS room. Darwin noticed each jacket was slightly different, some looking as though they had been patched together from old shirts. Each one was dirty, and the room had the funky smell of unwashed bodies.
The two rows stood silent with their heads bowed. As he entered the lab, they began a soft chant that echoed in the large room, their words lost in the rhythmic melody. He thought it sounded like an odd mix of Church hymns and Toto’s “Africa.” Fear and paranoia almost bubbled out as a laugh.
The men holding him released their grip. The one who had twisted his arm so painfully moved behind him, pushing on the small of his back, while the other one led him through the human passageway. Just before they reached the entry to the room with the QPS, the leader fell into place with those in the line. Darwin felt a stronger push on his back, propelling him through the doorway. He lurched into the QPS room alone.
The chanting from the outer room stopped with an abruptness that sent goose bumps up his arms. Several people wearing the same blue jackets stood in front of the QPS in a rough semicircle. Behind them in the shadows stood the girl who had brought him his food, looking more like his mother than before. They all stared through him to the doorway behind his back. Even though he’d worked most of his life to be invisible to others, he felt a chill run down his back. He stepped to the side, turning to find what they were all looking at.
Rebecca strode between the rows of people, and as she passed each person, they turned toward the QPS and knelt. She moved past him as if he didn’t exist, and he fought the urge to grab her arm. To stop her, to tell her this was crazy. She moved behind the QPS, facing it and everyone she had just walked past, and placed her hand on the machine. As she stopped, the group around the machine spread out, completing the circle around the QPS. The chanting started again.
Darwin risked a glance at the lab door. If he bolted now, would the people stop him, or would they be so shocked they wouldn’t know what to do? He figured he would get halfway to the stairs before they dragged him down. Rebecca was the center of everyone’s attention, so he had a chance. He stood rooted to the floor, indecision making him hesitate. It was strange how only a couple of minutes ago he was hauled into a closet to talk and now he was being completely ignored. It didn’t make any sense. Then again, none of this did.
The religious overtones and ceremonial aspects of the whole thing were weirding him out. The best he could figure was that he’d been taken in by a cult and they had duplicated the Quantum Labs building. It made about as much sense as anything else he had come up with, which wasn’t saying much. One thing he’d figured out. The blue jackets weren’t a uniform, they were damn vestments.
What they had in mind for him was even tougher for him to figure out. What if it was a mass suicide, like that group up in Montana last year? Would they want him to be a part of it? Would they force it on him?
He sucked in a deep breath and held it. Jesus Christ, get a grip. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs and his throat tightened. He forced himself to swallow. Calm down. He let go of the air trapped in his lungs. Cults only killed themselves, the true believers, not outsiders. Right? The logical side of his brain struggled with how a cult could take over a building that used to house over a thousand employees.
Maybe their plan wasn’t to kill themselves. Maybe they were trying to brainwash him, make him one of them. With the small amount of food and fake coffee during the day and the bump on his head, were they trying to make him susceptible, trying to weaken him to the point where he would believe anything they said or did? But why? What would be the point of it? A single thought hammered home. What if they had drugged him?
In one smooth motion, the circle around the QPS went down on their knees. He hadn’t heard or seen a command, but they were all in perfect sync. Besides Rebecca, he was the only person still standing. He took a half step backward, risking another glance at the door to the hall. He still had a clear path.
Without warning, the light in the room brightened and he stopped, his weight barely on the foot he had just moved. None of the darkened fluorescents had come on and the others looked like they were at the same intensity as before. Something else had brightened the room. Something more fluid, more organic, though he had no idea how he got to that conclusion.
A flicker from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He focused on it. Nothing was there. Another flicker came from the left and he rotated. Again, nothing was there. The chanting increased and the room suddenly blossomed with wisps of light. Translucent gray threads that shifted and moved with the singing, like dye flowing into water, but more defined and directional. Every time he tried to focus on a single wisp, it disappeared and another came into view at the edge of his sight. He’d seem them before. The bump on his head throbbed in sudden pain, and the hornet’s nest in his brain became more active.
The threads changed again, each becoming a distinct but faint washed-out color: pink, cyan, yellow. Too many to keep track of. The chanting stopped, and he turned back to face the machine.
Rebecca stood facing him, standing slightly apart from the twelve who formed the circle. His heart sank, knowing he had missed his opportunity to run, afraid it may have been his last. Everyone in the lab still knelt, looking at the floor in silence, while those around the QPS rose to their feet.
“I give you Darwin Lloyd, visitor from another world,” Rebecca chanted.
“May you find peace,” the kneeling group replied. The circle around the QPS remained silent.
Sounding more like a mad preacher at a pulpit, she continued. “Darwin Lloyd, you have done the impossible. Connecting the worlds is a task no one has done before you. Come forward and share your knowledge, so that we may grow wiser.” Everyone in the other room looked at him with hope in their eyes; only those around the QPS remained focused on Rebecca.
He stumbled back against the wall beside the door, his hand grabbing the window frame. Another world? His thoughts jumped back to classes on early physics theories; names like Everett, Deutsch, and DeWitt. Theories discussed in passing and discarded before moving on to Bohr’s and Heisenberg’s Copenhagen interpretation. How could he share what wasn’t real? “You guys are nuts.” The constant fear that threatened to consume him burst, burning hot and freezing cold at the same time.
“Come to us, Darwin Lloyd, son of the creator. Be witness to the power of the Source. Watch hope become reality, thought become truth. Share your knowledge so the Quorum can better serve its people.”
They were nuts. Rebecca, the guys standing around the QPS, those kneeling on the hard floor in the lab, every last fricken one of them. Cult was the right word. The idea of waiting until he was back in his office prison to attempt an escape didn’t seem like such a good one anymore. He had to get out now, before they decided to suck his brain out with a vacuum cleaner looking for information he didn’t have.
Out of the corner of his eye, the amorphous threads solidified. They still shifted and moved, weaving around each other in a tapestry of color, but they seemed more stable, more solid. Each person surrounding the QPS was connected to the next by the threads; new connections were made as the old disappeared. Thicker strands joined them to Rebecca, and as he watched, a rope as thick as his arm shot out from her toward the kneeling group, and they became united to the whole.
