The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions Book 2) (13 page)

As I tell the story, Hillary’s little face continues to be highly animated. Though petite girls aren’t my type—at least if Bert is to be believed—I think they have a unique cuteness about them. If I had a girlfriend like this, I’d mentally call her Nano, like that iPod Nano I had as a kid. Back then, as now, everything was becoming more and more portable, and a pocket-sized girlfriend like this is just the next logical step.

Size aside, something about Hillary looks familiar to me. I can’t put my finger on it, though. I wonder how old she is. Twenty-four? Twenty-five? It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to ask. She could easily be older than she looks; it’s one of the benefits of being that size. As I focus on her features, I become certain that this is the first time we’ve met, and yet there’s something nagging at my brain.

“So what was that thing Bill alluded to? The vegan thing?” I ask when I feel like I’ve shared enough of my life, and it’s only courteous to learn a bit about her.

She grins. “Oh, he’s blaming me for the rise of vegetarianism and veganism in New York. He thinks that just because I’m a vegan, I go around nudging people to follow in my footsteps.”

“Wow. I’m still not used to thinking this way. Can you actually do that? Guide a meat-eater to go vegan?” I ask, impressed by the very idea of it.

“I can, and maybe I have strategically done that with the biggest trendsetters upon occasion,” she admits. “But my humble efforts are not the sole reason why things are moving in that direction in New York—and other places, for that matter. People are just becoming more aware of the impact of their diet on the environment, of animal suffering associated with it all, and, of course, the one that matters to them most: their health. With the spread of books such as
The China Study
—”

“Hillary, we’re trying to make a good impression here, and your propaganda will not help in that goal. I have to borrow Darren, if you don’t mind,” Liz says, startling me by appearing right next to me seemingly out of nowhere.

Hillary opens her mouth, looking like she’s about to object. Before she can say anything, however, Liz grabs me by the elbow and drags me to the other side of the room.

“I didn’t need to be saved. I was actually quite enjoying Hillary’s company,” I say to Liz as we walk away.

“Oh, good,” Liz says with relief. “That girl can be insufferable. Still, I want you to meet Thomas right now. Then you’ll be able to go back and finish your conversation.”

We approach a sharply dressed guy who’s about my height. He’s a bit broader in the shoulders than I am, which is something I don’t see often. He’s also muscular. Not steroid-big like Caleb, but he clearly works out regularly, like I try to do.

“Thomas, I want you to meet Darren,” Liz says, giving the guy a thorough kiss on the lips. The kiss part is really odd. Didn’t she say earlier he was a patient of hers, like me? I catch myself before I get more bothered by it. It’s not like I’m jealous. Okay, fine, maybe a tiny bit jealous. Thinking that a woman like Liz was interested in me had been a pleasant fantasy—and helpful for my self-esteem.

“It’s great to meet you, Darren.” Thomas shakes my hand with one of those excessively firm handshakes that I’m used to getting from men in finance.

As we shake hands, I realize that he seems to be part Asian. What makes this stand out is the fact that everyone else in this room is white. And now that I think about it, all the Readers I’ve met were also white. I guess it makes sense when you consider both of the groups’ histories. After all, they—or
we
—began from a cult that did that whole selective breeding thing somewhere in Europe, according to what I’ve learned from Liz. Thomas’s origins must be a bit different. It proves what Liz told me: that this group of Guides will welcome you regardless of your lineage, so long as you are somehow a Guide. I wonder if this means they would be okay with whatever I am. I’m not going to risk them finding out, of course, but their attitude does give me hope.

“Good to meet you too, Thomas,” I say, realizing I’m staring at the guy.

He doesn’t seem bothered by my staring at all. He’s just standing there, looking at me, seemingly comfortable with the silence.

“So Liz told me that somebody’s trying to kill you,” he says casually after a moment. “She said that this person is one of us, a Guide.”

“Yes, unfortunately, that’s the case,” I say, almost defensively. The way he emphasized the word
Guide
made it sound like he was skeptical.

“Can you tell me exactly what you told her?” he asks calmly. “Liz didn’t give me many details because of the doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Liz startles me by saying, and walks away. I was so lost in my thoughts that I’d almost forgotten she was still there. I note Thomas following the sway of her hips with a very non-doctor-patient look and file it away as curious, but unimportant for the moment.

When he turns his attention back to me, I repeat the story I told Liz.

As I go through it, Thomas asks me a bunch of pointed questions. He’s obviously familiar with the investigative process, perhaps from his Secret Service job. Had I not grown up telling lies to my mom Lucy, the detective, I might’ve been in trouble. As it is, I’m not sure if he completely believes me. My mom probably wouldn’t have. Unlike her, though, he doesn’t know my ‘tells.’ I hope.

“I find it hard to believe one of us would do such a thing,” he says when I’m done explaining about the attempted killing. “But in any case, you did the right thing, getting a hotel room. I would also suggest ditching your phone and getting another one, and maybe getting out of town for a bit while I look into this.”

“That’s a good idea about the phone, Thomas,” I say. “I should’ve thought of that. As far as getting out of town, my family is here, and so is my work. Where would I go?”

He shrugs. “Take a vacation. Visit friends or relatives you haven’t seen in a while. Though, if you want to be completely safe, you should probably stay clear of your immediate family for the time being.”

“I don’t think I like that plan,” I say, frowning. “I don’t want to stay in hiding forever.”

“Well, if you had more information—”

“I might be able to obtain it,” I say, starting to feel hopeful. “I can’t commit to anything, but if I did find out more, do you think you’d be able to help me deal with this person?” I know it’s a lot to ask, but I could really use someone like Thomas on my side.

“Sure.” He hands me a business card. “Here’s my number. If you learn who this mystery Guide is, let me know immediately.”

“I will, thanks,” I say, and put his details into my phone. By habit, I call his number, so that he has mine. When the call connects, he looks at his phone and grunts approvingly.

“You know,” he says, looking back at me. “If this whole thing is true and you figure out who this Guide is, he or she will try even harder to get rid of you.”

“I don’t think this person could be trying any harder,” I say, meaning it to be a joke, but Thomas responds with a stony expression.

“The attempt on your life was very subtle,” he says. “Our ability, if misused, can be much more harmful. If someone tried to kill you without subtlety, every member of that hospital staff would’ve tried to go for your throat. It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

I picture that with a shudder. He’s probably right. The Pusher was being subtle because he knew there were Readers around, and he was trying to keep his or her identity a secret. Had secrecy not been part of it, things might’ve gotten truly ugly. Then again, I can do what the Pusher can—and I’m reasonably certain the Pusher doesn’t know it.

“Do you think there is a chance this Guide might be in this room?” I ask, because I have to at least pose the question. I don’t think it’s Thomas, since Liz appears to trust him, but the other people in this room are still unknown to me—Bill excluded, of course.

“No, I doubt it,” Thomas says. “I know everyone here, and I don’t think any of them are capable of something like that. Not to mention, they would have no reason to be after you.”

“Can you think of anyone who
would
have a reason to be after me?”

I expect Thomas to say no, but he looks thoughtful instead.

“Are both of your parents Guides?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I’m still learning about them, but probably not both of them.” This is as close as I dare get to the truth of my origins. “Why?”

“Well,” he says slowly, “when I joined this group, I was warned about the Traditionalists. I was told they might go after me—which hasn’t happened. So if you’re not a pure Guide, they could be behind this. Though in your case, I’m not sure how they would know about your heritage.”

“The Traditionalists?” I ask, confused. “Liz mentioned them before, but she didn’t give me much detail. Why would they want to come after you?”

“They’re extremists who have some archaic attitudes about purity of blood, and they’re against marrying outside the Guide community, among other things,” he says with distaste. “In a way, they’re like those inbred Leachers. So you can see how I could be their target. You can tell I’m not ‘pure’ by just looking at my face.”

“I see.” I have a growing conviction that I’m not going to be a fan of these Traditionalists, even if they’re not the ones trying to kill me.

“I wish I could tell you more about them and why they might target you, but I know very little. Like you, I didn’t grow up with this stuff,” Thomas says, and I remember Liz mentioning that he was also adopted. Despite his stoic demeanor, he must see us as kindred souls, given that our stories are so similar.

I want to hear about his background, but first, I need to find out more about these Traditionalists. “Is there anyone I could talk to about them?” I ask, and Thomas nods.

“You can try talking to Hillary,” he says. “She knows more about this than most of us.”

“All right, I will, thanks.” I wonder why the tiny girl knows about this, but that’s a topic I’ll broach with her.

Thomas looks at me, falling back into his silent pattern, so I ask, “What did you mean when you said you didn’t grow up with this stuff?” Since I’m not sure whether Liz meant to reveal his adopted status to me, I figure it’s best to pretend complete ignorance. I don’t want to get her in trouble.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he says, “Like you, I was adopted. My parents didn’t tell me this until I was six years old.” As he says this, I catch a glimmer of some emotion behind his expressionless mask.

“That’s amazing,” I say. “This is something we share. Well, almost. I guess the difference is that I always thought I had one biological parent, Sara. I assume you learned that both your parents were adoptive?”

“Yes,” he says. “They told me a woman gave me to them. A woman they’d never met before or after the adoption. Someone whose identity I was never able to discover.”

There seems to be a deep sadness to that part of the story. He clearly yearns to know more about his origins. I can relate, but I don’t want to share my version of this story. Not if I have to reveal the names of my parents. So instead I say, “What about your abilities? Did you, like me, discover what you can do on your own?”

“Yes. It was during a car accident that I discovered that I was able to stop time—what everyone here calls Splitting into the Mind Dimension.”

“For me, it was a bike accident,” I say, smiling. “And I called it the Quiet.”

Thomas returns my smile. “Did you also Guide someone on your own?” he asks. “I called it Hypnotizing.”

“No. The first time I was able to do that deliberately was today, when Liz decided to test me to see if I’m a Guide,” I say. “You discovered it on your own?”

“Yeah, it happened during a fight. I got into a lot of those as a kid,” he says, his eyes getting a faraway, nostalgic look. “I stopped time to practice punching the bully I was fighting. As I was practice-hitting him in that mode, I also really willed him to trip. He was much bigger, and getting him on the ground was my only chance to walk away without some serious damage. Afterwards, he did trip. I, being a kid, wondered if that was because I’d willed it so hard. So the next time I got into a fight, I tried to repeat that trick. I did it during other fights until one day, I realized that I could do more than just make people fall over.”

“Oh, I am so jealous,” I say earnestly. “The fun I could’ve had if I’d discovered this as a kid.”

“It only sounds fun in theory,” he says seriously. “I thought I was completely insane.”

“Ah, I was about to ask how it happened that you know Liz also.”

“Well, before I was able to Guide people, I tried telling my parents about time stopping—”

“I did that too,” I interrupt, excited.

“Right. So the result was probably the same too. They took me to see a psychiatrist,” he says.

“Yep,” I say, nodding my head.

“Did Liz tell you how in cases like ours, all roads lead to her?” he asks, glancing in her direction.

“No, she didn’t. Are you saying I was led to Liz on purpose?”

Thomas smiles again. “This is how it works,” he says. “She made herself known as an expert on the exact sort of ‘delusional symptoms’ someone like us might report. She wrote a few articles on the step-outside-the-world delusion, giving this phenomenon a psychobabble explanation, something about it being a way for some intelligent and slightly-too-introspective kids to cope with the world going too fast around them. So after a few doctors didn’t know what to do with me, they referred me to her, the expert. The same thing happened to you, I bet.”

“That’s exactly what happened, yes.”

“I think that happens to pretty much anyone in our situation in NYC—not that our situation is common, of course. Once I met Liz, and once I shared my Guiding experiences with her, she brought me into this world,” he says, waving his hand in a gesture meant to encompass the whole room.

“Okay, I’m even more jealous now. Just to think, had I not avoided getting into fights, I would’ve discovered Guiding and joined this community much earlier in my life,” I say.

“You don’t want to have had my childhood.” Thomas’s face darkens. “Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to join the Guides at that price.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trivialize. I’m just saying it must’ve been cool to know what you are and that you weren’t crazy. Besides, I bet eventually the bullies had to leave you alone.”

“They did,” he says curtly. I have a feeling some bullies of Thomas’s past got a lot more than they bargained for. Good for him. Hell, if people stop trying to kill me for a few days, I’m tempted to make the time to find John, my own childhood nemesis. Now that I can Guide, he might get the urge to literally go fuck himself.

“It was nice to know I wasn’t insane,” Thomas says in a lighter tone when I remain silent. “I guess you had it tough in your own way. But hey, all’s well that ends well, right?”

“Exactly,” I say, happy that the topic is getting less sinister. I’m about to say more, but I notice Liz making her way back to us.

“Can you guys continue this later?” she says, sipping a pink drink. “I still need to introduce Darren to everyone, and since I have to leave early today, I’d like to get that task out of the way.”

“Of course. I have to leave anyway,” Thomas says.

“Okay, I’ll give you a call, and maybe we can do coffee in a few days,” I say.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees with a smile.

“Okay, now that you have a man date, let’s go,” Liz says teasingly. Seeing my shrink joking and clearly buzzed is weird, to say the least.

As we walk away, she takes me by the arm and leads me around, introducing me to the people in the room.

I’m terrible with names, so I hope there isn’t a quiz later, because I would fail it. I do notice a pattern, though. We all have some facial features in common, in the way Liz alluded to earlier. And whatever it is, I haven’t noticed it with Readers. All these people seem rather interesting in their own ways, and I hope that with time, I’ll get to know all of them.

What I also notice is that no one seems to be displaying any animosity toward me. So either my nemesis is an excellent actor, or the Pusher from the hospital isn’t here.

The whole thing is beyond tiring. Maybe it’s all that going-to-bed-early stuff from the last two days messing up my circadian rhythm, or maybe I’m still not fully recovered from my injury. Whatever it is, I’m beginning to get a serious craving for my bed back at the hotel.