Holding up a trembling hand, Nathan stepped in front of Kelly. “Leave her alone, all right? Do whatever you want to me. Just let her go.”
“Easy enough to put a hole right through both of you.” When he pulled the trigger, the gunpowder flashed, its sparks flying away from the gun in slow motion. Nathan reached for his chest, expecting a sharp pain, but as he refocused, the brass-colored bullet came into view, maybe three feet away, floating toward him at a barely perceptible rate.
He gasped for breath, but his lungs froze. He wanted to grab Kelly and duck, but as he tried to turn, his limbs and torso locked in place. Only his eyes and brain seemed able to function at all.
As the bullet continued its unyielding advance, he glanced at the two dead bodies in the mirror. Had the reflection predicted their murder somehow? The other Nathan and Kelly were in a faraway place and wearing strange clothes. It wasn’t the same at all. Somehow theirs was a different world.
The mirror began to darken and expand in every direction. The dead bodies pushed out from the glass, creating a hologram that blended with reality. The lifeless Nathan and Kelly floated inches off the bedroom floor, lying still, with gaping holes in their eyes, as the two rooms merged into one.
Nathan glanced at the space between him and the gunman. The bullet moved within a foot of his chest, spinning slowly as it inched along. He screamed at his body to jump, to duck, to collapse, to do anything — even to trade places with his dead twin on the floor. At least then he wouldn’t suffer the slow torture of a sizzling missile drilling into his heart.
Just as the bullet touched his clothes, darkness spilled over the room, like jet-black paint flowing down the walls. Now without sight, a falling sensation overtook his mind, a plunge into a dark void. He cringed. Any second his body would crash against the floor and thrust out his final earthly breath.
The painful thud never came. He pushed his hands forward, but they wouldn’t budge. The surface at his fingertips felt hard and cool. Had he fallen? Had the bullet struck? Why didn’t he feel the agony of a mortal wound?
Another popping noise throttled his eardrum. When his eyes adjusted, he tried to look around, but his cheek was pressed against a wood floor. The room slowly brightened from blackness to a gray gloom. Someone lay next to him, a female form, but her face pointed the other way.
Nathan waited, trying not to breathe. Maybe the gunman would think he was dead and take off, if he was still there at all. After a few seconds of silence, he whispered, “Kelly?”
The body curled up at his side whispered back, “Is he gone?”
“I think so.” Nathan pushed against the floor, still checking for pain, but everything seemed fine.
Kelly rose and knelt next to him. “Where are we?”
“I’m not sure.” He got up and helped her to her feet. “I’m not hurt. Are you?”
“I don’t think so.” She wiped her hands on her safari shirt. “When did I put this hideous hunting outfit on?”
“You got me.” He nudged a violin fragment with his laced boot and sniffed the air. The odor of fresh paint permeated the cool chamber. “This is just like my dream.”
“I hope it’s a dream. Either that or we’re in the dark tunnel people talk about when they’re on their way to heaven.” She closed her eyes and wrung her hands. “Somebody please wake me up. I’ll never shout at my alarm clock again if it will just wake me —”
The sound of laughter made them turn. A rectangular image floated behind them, a pondlike reflection that showed a skewed picture of Nathan’s bedroom. In the image, he and Kelly, still dressed in their sleep attire, lay on the carpet, the gunman standing over them.
The safari-clad Kelly clutched a handful of Nathan’s sleeve and jerked him close, whisper-shouting. “Are those our dead bodies back in your bedroom?”
Nathan tried to calm his quick breaths. “I don’t know … Everything’s going crazy.”
In the image, Tony burst through the doorway. He grabbed the gunman from behind in a headlock and wrestled him to the floor. But the gunman was too slippery. He smashed Tony’s head with the butt of the pistol. As Tony fell limp, the man stood up and hobbled out of the room.
Before the image faded, they could hear the roar of the Mustang as it spit gravel from underneath its tires. The image slowly reshaped into a tri–fold, floor–standing mirror, reflecting their dumbstruck faces, khaki clothes, and gloomy surroundings.
Kelly bent over, clutching her stomach. “I think I’m really going to be sick this time!”
While she heaved, Nathan patted her back, his own stomach boiling with nausea. “It’s going to be okay,” he said in a soothing tone, as much to settle himself as to calm her down. After shaking off a skin–tingling chill, he took a deep breath. “We’ll figure it all out.”
Straightening, Kelly pushed her hair back, her eyes flush with tears. “We’re dead!” she shouted. Her cry echoed in the empty chamber, calling out, “We’re dead,” over and over.
“We’re not dead. Maybe we just got transported into the mirror. This place is exactly what we saw from my bedroom.”
She set her fists on her hips. “Oh, well, like that’s a lot better! We’re either dead or nothing but reflections in a mirror world.”
“But we’re still in physical bodies.” Nathan stooped and picked up a piece of a violin. With two curling strings still attached, the tawny wood carried a splattering of reddish stain. “And this place is too real to be just a reflection.”
Rubbing her upper arms, she turned toward the coffins. “So, if this is the same as your dream, do you think the Rosetta pieces are over there?”
“I don’t think so. Didn’t you see the lady’s hand?” He rose and strode toward the boxes, Kelly following, their shoes crunching violin pieces as they weaved around the music stands. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, the chamber slowly took on its familiar surroundings. “I was right,” he said, suddenly stopping.
“Right about what?”
“This is the performance hall where my parents died. But it looks different, like it’s been remodeled.”
“In just a couple of days?”
“Fast workers, I guess.” He pointed at the floor. “But the coffins were downstairs in a prop room, not up on stage.”
Kelly crept closer to the coffins. “If your parents’ bodies are still in there …”
“They can’t be,” Nathan said confidently but his tone proved stronger than his legs. They trembled as he stayed close to Kelly’s heels.
A siren wailed from somewhere outside. The front entrance door burst open, and Gordon limped in, reaching into his jacket. “Stay where you are!” he ordered.
Nathan grabbed Kelly’s hand and pulled her toward the side exit. “This way!” Running through the dark hallway and down the darker stairs, their shoes stomped over the creaking wood. Not bothering to look for a light, he dashed into the maintenance area and clattered along the familiar catwalk, darkness cloaking their escape.
Finding the low exit door, already repaired since his previous visit, he dropped down, pounded it open with his shoes, and leaped to the hallway below. Kelly followed, step by step, only her heavy breathing giving away her presence.
He dashed into the fire escape alcove and threw open the window. A cool rush of air breezed in. This time, in the fullness of night, the black stairwell seemed invisible against the dark background. It would be like stepping out into nothingness.
Watching the street below, Nathan pushed his body through the window and felt for the metal grating under his feet. When it caught his weight, he straightened and helped Kelly out. Striding confidently now, he hustled down flight after flight of stairs, listening to Kelly’s footsteps clanging in the rear.
He glanced up at the dark window. No sign of Gordon following. Slowing his pace as he walked out onto the swinging bridge, he looked back at Kelly, talking as he hung on to the railing. “Watch for him. The front door’s around the corner, so he might show up there and try
to catch us from below.”
When the stairway hit the sidewalk, they clambered down and leaped off. The bridge lifted slowly back to the sky, whining as it rose.
Kelly pointed. “There he is!”
Slowly jogging toward them, Dr. Gordon held a gun close to his side but said nothing.
Nathan took Kelly’s hand and spun in the opposite direction. “Run!” He hustled into the alley where he and Clara had found the limo and pulled Kelly against a brick wall, pinning his own body near the corner.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, panting.
He raised a tight fist, held his breath, and listened. Heavy footsteps drew closer. Kelly pressed a hand against her chest and closed her eyes. When the pounding reached a climax, Nathan leaped out and swung his fist, nailing Gordon square on the cheek and knocking him flat on his back.
Crouching over his body, Nathan searched for the gun, but Gordon’s hands were shrouded in darkness.
“Let’s just run!” Kelly shouted, pulling Nathan’s shirt.
Gordon latched on to Nathan’s pant leg. “Without me, you’ll never get home. You have no idea where you are.”
“We’ll take our chances.” Nathan jerked away and ran down the sidewalk with Kelly. The city of Chicago rose up before them, towers everywhere ascending to dizzying heights. They turned right on Wabash and sprinted alongside the busy street. He listened for their pursuer, but the rumble of an approaching ‘L’ train on the overhead track buried every other sound.
Halting at the first intersection, Nathan wheeled around. Nobody following … yet. They waited for the light to change and tried to blend in with the dozen or so pedestrians as they crossed the street.
A man in a lime green leisure suit and platform shoes approached them. Something gold flashed on his chest, drawing Nathan’s gaze to his open shirt where a gold chain suspended a silver-dollar-sized medallion in the midst of a dense nest of hair. A movie poster on a building across the street advertised the film Animal House opening July 28.
When he and Kelly reached the other side, he looked back again. Gordon jogged toward them, grimacing and favoring a leg.
The light changed. A bus lumbered between them and Gordon, pausing to allow a late–arriving pedestrian on board. A Ford Pinto stopped behind the bus, beeping its shrill horn. Nathan stared at the car. It looked brand new. Spinning back, he pointed at a stairway leading to the train platform. “Let’s catch it while he can’t see us!” They sprinted up the stairs, not daring to look behind them.
When they reached the turnstile, he skidded to a halt and eyed the uniformed attendant leaning against a column and staring off into space. Digging into his pockets, Nathan glanced all around. “What do we need? A ticket? A token?”
Kelly leaped onto the turnstile’s cross bar and vaulted over. The attendant jerked his head toward them and raised a hand. “Hey! You need a —”
“Sorry!” Nathan said, setting his hand on the turnstile. “It’s an emergency!”
He jumped to the other side and dashed up another flight of stairs. After running out onto the passenger platform, he jogged along the line of cars, peering into each window. Where was Kelly? She couldn’t have just disappeared!
A signal chimed. The train was about to leave. At the last car, Kelly pushed out from the inside and wedged her body between the closing doors. “Hurry!” she called, straining against the two panels.
The doors popped open again. Kelly lurched back and fell to her bottom. Just as the panels began to close, Nathan leaped inside and grabbed a support pole to stop his momentum. As he straightened, he kept a grip on the pole, panting. “I think we lost him.”
“Maybe.” With a nod of her head, she gestured toward the front of the train. “I saw a couple of people get on while you were running this way but I couldn’t tell if he was one of them. It was too dark.”
He scanned the nearly empty train. One old man sat in the seat closest to the front access door. As a light snore passed through his nostrils, his chin dropped to his chest and nestled in a coffee stain on his white button–down shirt. A sign above his head warned passengers not to pass between the cars.
Rising to her feet, Kelly smiled. “Good job back there. Did it hurt?”
Nathan lifted his fist and looked at his knuckles, red but not bleeding. “It does now. I didn’t feel a thing when I decked him.”
As the car swayed back and forth, she braced herself against the back of a seat and peered out the window. “If he didn’t get on this train, he’s sure to follow on the next one.”
“Let’s get off pretty soon. He won’t be able to guess where we stopped.”
Sliding into a window seat, she fanned her face with her hand. “Give me a few minutes to catch my breath. I’m not an experienced spy like you.”
He pushed a section of a newspaper off the seat next to her and sat down, gazing at the darkened skyline. “What do you mean? You did great.”
“No, I didn’t.” She crossed her arms and shivered. “I was scared to death!”
“So? You don’t think I was scared?”
“You didn’t act like it.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t. I just did what I had to do. There wasn’t much choice.”
“I guess that’s true.” Yawning, she rested her head against the window and closed her eyes. “I feel a little better knowing you were scared, too.”
“Glad I could help.” He looked at the newspaper on the floor at his feet, and his gaze fell across the bold type above an article — “Nightmare Epidemic Continues.” He tried to read the smaller type but couldn’t make it out.
Just as he reached for it, a whisper buzzed through Kelly’s barely parted lips. “Do you think your parents were in those coffins?”
He straightened. “I don’t see how. When that reflection of myself looked into the coffin, he never said a word about the bodies belonging to my parents.”
“You’re right.” Her voice trailed away. Seconds later, her breathing turned heavy and rhythmic.
Nathan gazed at her pale skin and let out a quiet sigh. No wonder she was tired. Anybody would be worn out after that chase. His own first narrow escape pumped so much adrenaline through his body, he slept for half a day when he got home. And, not being purposefully trained as he had been, Kelly’s fear was even more understandable. Facing death wasn’t for the fainthearted, and even now he couldn’t avoid a rash of jitters when his life was on the line.
He settled back and gazed at the tall, boxy skyscrapers outside, each one filled with hundreds of square lights aligned in perfect rows and columns. With fear still lurking somewhere in his mind, one of those odd training sessions seeped in from his memories. The orderly matrix of lights morphed into one of the many spreadsheets he had worked on for his father, countless numbers in precise arrays. As the moon cast shadows across the rumbling train, his father’s voice pierced the veil of long-lost recollections.
His father leaned one hand against Nathan’s desk. “It’s almost midnight. Everything’s ready for your jump.”
Nathan kept his fingers on his computer’s keyboard. “But I haven’t finished the financial statement yet.”
“That can wait. Numbers aren’t as important as this step in your training.”
“But this’ll take me at least —”
“Nathan.” His voice deepened but stayed calm. “Are you really worried about getting the report done?”
Nathan shook his head, still watching the screen. “No. Not really.”
His father’s shadow glided to the other side of his desk. “It’s no shame to admit that you’re scared.”
“Okay.” He looked up at him, firming his chin. “I admit it. I’m scared.”
“Good.” His father’s bushy eyebrows pressed toward his nose. “Measured fear is healthy, even vital.”
“Why aren’t you ever scared of anything?”
“Who says I’m not? I’ve been scared lots of times.”
“When? I’ve never seen
it.”
“Last month. Remember the snipers on the rooftops?”
“How could I forget? I about had a heart attack!”
“Me, too.” His father laid a hand on his chest. “My heart pounded louder than bongo drums.”
“You didn’t show it. You stayed as cool as ice.”
“You’re right. I didn’t show it. But staying cool, as you call it, doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared.”
“What do you call it?”
“I would say it’s a combination of faith and courage. If you really believe you have an immovable foundation, even if you plunge through a thousand evils, you know you will eventually land in a place of safety.”
“But you’re scared while you’re falling, right?”
“Many times, yes.” His father rolled his hand into a fist and tapped lightly on his breast. “Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s the ability to control fear and do what you have to do in spite of it. If you have faith in the one who calls you to a task, you just do it and trust that he’ll get you out of a jam.”
Nathan grinned. “Is this speech supposed to talk me into jumping without shaking in my boots?”
He gave Nathan’s shoe a gentle kick. “Shake in your boots all you want. I told you it’s voluntary. You can back out if you think you’re not ready.”
After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Nathan turned off the computer monitor. “I’m ready.”
A few minutes later, Nathan climbed through the darkness and reached the top rung of a ladder that leaned against his two-story house. After stepping carefully onto the nearly invisible roof, he walked up to the top of the angled shingles and slid close enough to the edge to peek at the driveway below. He cringed at the sight. Shrouded in darkness, it had to be at least twenty-five feet down.
At ground level, his father waved a flashlight, guiding it along the cracks in the driveway. “Remember,” he called. “Although it looks like certain injury or death awaits you if you jump, it is an illusion, as are all things you see with your eyes that violate the sacred truths you have learned.”