MirrorWorld

“Actually,” I say to Lyons, “I couldn’t tell you.” I turn my head up, not a trace of fear in my eyes, and smile. Turns out I’m a decent actor, though I have my short time as a fear-feeling person to thank for the authentic, trembling sob. Despite Lyons’s inhuman appearance and increasing size, I feel nothing beyond the desire to beat him senseless. I didn’t realize it at first, but then I picked up on the signs. Acting without thought. Disregard for bullets. A steady heartbeat. When the matriarch restored my mind, she didn’t just return my memory but my fearless nature as well. “Surprise.”

I slip out of the mirror world and into the real-world cavern. While I once again feel no fear, I have what might be the single largest “holy shit” moment of my life. And then I smile.

59

The cavern is full of Dread crocs, all standing still, waiting.

For what?

For me, I realize. The matriarch has given me my own army.

There are at least thirty of them. Maybe more. The combined glow of their exposed yellow veins illuminates the space, allowing me to see the water-smoothed floor and craggy ceiling for the first time. The nearest of the crocs, a massive specimen, steps closer and leans its snout down. It’s just a foot away. I can smell its warm, fishy breath. Had I still been able to feel fear, I might piss myself.

I reach out and put my hand on its head. “Let’s go.”

I push through frequencies, stretching the fabric that separates dimensions, and then, all at once, I pop through.

And I’m not alone.

In the time it takes to finger snap twice, the tide of the battle does a one-eighty. Back in their home world, the Dread crocs spring into action, lashing out, trampling and consuming the Dread Squad. There is resistance, of course. The drugged men fire their weapons, performing a mass “Hudson” killing of some of the crocs and each other in the confusion. But the battle is lost the moment we enter the mirror world.

I’m not sure if it’s purposeful, but the Dread crocs leave Lyons alone — or rather, they leave him for me. While he’s still recovering from the surprise attack, I draw both trench knives, leap forward, and drive the twin, foot-long blades into his chest.

He shouts in pain, staggers back, and falls to his knees. He seethes at me but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he looks to his left, where a machine gun rattles away, the barrage holding back the wave of Dread crocs. The moment those bullets run out, the men holding that position are dead. But only one of them is the true danger. Katzman. He’s leaning over the microwave bomb. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I suspect he’s adjusting the timer. There’s no getting out of here, and he knows it. They’re going to kill us all, and maybe the rest of the world along with us.

And this is why you don’t give bombs to men on drugs.

I pick up the dropped Desert Eagle and squeeze off a round. My aim is true, but the bullet strikes a passing Dread croc instead. My next shot strikes a soldier as he’s tossed into the air, a human skeet. And then it’s too late. Katzman is standing again, raising his weapon and adding it to the barrage holding the crocs at bay.

I run toward a croc, and when it sees me I mentally whisper what I want it to do. I have no idea if it is “hearing” me or understanding me, but I need to close the distance between myself and Katzman, and I need to do it fast. When I was a kid, we had a dog named Kenobi. For fun, I would place treats on his nose and laugh as he snapped at it, launching the treat up and away. I called it a Kenobipult. What I want is the Dread version.

I leap at the croc and its head lowers down. When both feet land atop its broad snout, its head snaps up, either from reflex or understanding what I wanted. Either way, the result is the same. I’m sent soaring toward Katzman … and the machine gun, which is now tracking upward toward my position. Before the first shot can be fired, I shift between frequencies, back into the real-world cavern, sailing through the calm, cool air.

This part is tricky. If I’m not as far as I think, I could take a bullet the moment I return. I could end up inside solid stone or the jaws of a croc. So I try something new, adjusting the vision of a single eye. It’s not like seeing the world between, where I experience a little of both dimensions but neither fully. I’m actually seeing both worlds simultaneously and separately, one with a human eye, one with a Dread eye. My shifting double vision is nauseating for a moment as my brain suddenly has two different visual feeds to process, but then the images unify and I see both worlds at once. Objects in the Dread reality take on a slight different hue, almost a glow.