Piercing the Veil (Harbingers Book 13) by Myers Bill

Author:Myers, Bill [Myers, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Amaris Media International
Published: 2016-05-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“Heartbeat’s at forty-eight.” Stephie’s voice came through the speaker of our room, all soft and gentle. “You can bring it lower than that.”

I took a deep breath, trying to relax.

“Don’t try to relax,” Boy Wonder said. He was stretched out in the recliner beside me, talking like he was reading my mind, which he probably was. “Just let it happen.”

“Approaching theta,” Stephie said. “That’s good, very good.”

People, they call me a control freak. They’re probably right. I been ‘round too much to let some stranger call the shots. Even well-meaning, white chicks trying to use their hocus-pocus hypno-voice on me.

“But she’s trying to help,” the kid answered.

Will you stop that! I thought.

“Oops,” Stephie said, “you’re back up to alpha.”

I took another breath. I tried focusing on the soft flute music playing in the background, imagined myself melting into the recliner.

“That’s better. Good, good. Keep breathing, nice and slow. In and out. In and out. A little more. Good. And . . . we’re there.”

For being there, I felt exactly the same. Except, well, gradually, I noticed it was like I didn’t have any arms and legs. And that I was falling. Falling through darkness. Except it wasn’t all dark. There was some sort of tunnel around me. On all sides. And I wasn’t falling down, I was floating up.

Where am I? I spoke or thought or both.

“Just go with it,” Chad said.

I heard wind begin blowing in my ears. Faint at first, but it got pretty loud pretty fast. I actually felt it on my face. That’s when the lights or stars or whatever they were started going by. Slow at first, but they picked up speed ‘til they were streaking past me, blurring by like one of those Star War movies. And with all that blurring I started seeing faces on the tunnel walls. Actually the walls were the faces, some small, some big, most creepy like those gargoyles you see on top of buildings.

Like the ones I’d sketched on my pad.

Do you see me? It was Chad’s voice again. I couldn’t tell if it was inside my head or out.

I don’t—

Focus on the center of the tunnel. Away from the faces.

In my mind, I pretended to squint, looking hard until . . . there, fifty yards away. Chad was standing waving his arms at me.

I see you. I see someone.

Of course you do. As usual he was talking down to me like I was a kid. But suddenly things changed. His voice and image rippled like a wave. They did it again, faster. And faster. ’Til everything was a blur, just rippling colors and sound.

Chad! Chad, You there?

No answer. Just the flowing colors and sounds. Then the sound of birds. Then voices—a boy and a girl. The colors began taking shape. Patches of blue sky. White, puffy clouds. Tree tops. Then roofs, then porches, front yards. Not ghetto, but lower class. I looked down to see I was standing on an uneven sidewalk, weeds growing between the cracks.

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