PM Chapter 3 - (rough version)

There was silence.  Logunese was cautious in opening his eyes, but when he did there was no pain.  His surroundings slowly sharpened from a blurry view.  They were in a small park for children.  It was a normal suburban neighborhood.  Stained wooden fences stood against a square lot, with well-kept lawns, bushes, and a clean street next to them.  No debris, no litter, and no death.  A little old lady was eyeing them from across the way, but decided better of it and shuffled her way back indoors.  The soft click of her door brought him back to reality.  How’d they get here?

“How –“

Ray turned around with a menacing glare, “Saving you two isn’t worth the exertion.  I will answer your questions inside, until then,” he leaned forward, deepening the lines of his scowl, “Don’t – press – your- luck.” He jabbed a thick finger with each syllable.

Log gave a slight nod as his eyes met Zaxian, his shirt covered in blood, he couldn’t even tell what Rock band it depicted beneath the gore.  Glancing down he found himself in the same condition.  Ray motioned them both to follow.  Anxiety clawed at his perception, but on the whole he was numb.

They moved behind the houses away from the road.  Log was dizzy but he kept pace.  The raging inferno in his skull vanished the second they… teleported?  Slicing, he heard Zim call it.  Too much to swallow, he was expecting to wake up anytime now.


Log wondered if their sneaking around would raise suspicion, but with a second thought realized three men covered in human gore would do that anyway.  They walked a brisk pace and soon Log was, ironically, helping Zaxian keep up.  At a four-way intersection Ray cut diagonally across the street to a normal-looking suburban house.  The home’s stained fence was taller than most and sported a paved black-top driveway leading into a double-car garage, a white exterior, and light blue accents around the windows.  Ray touched the gate and it opened.  At the front door he paused to move his hands over certain sections of the door.  It reminded Log of how Z’s characters caste spells in his video games.  After a moment the door opened without being touched.  A chill ran down his spin.

After they shuffled inside the door slammed behind them.  Log didn’t even jump at the sound.  He began to wonder if something was wrong. The house was a simple design.  The kitchen sat to the left, directly inside the door, with a fridge, stove, microwave, and linoleum floor.  Everything was blinding white.  The Living Room to the right held a black leather couch and a widescreen television.  A staircase in the back ascended to the second floor, which Log guessed, had two bedrooms and a bath.  Ray motioned them up the stairs and to the bathroom.

“Clean up.  I’ll find clothes to fit you.” He surveyed both of them a moment before turning down the hall.

Zaxian was looking in the mirror, but Log could tell he wasn’t seeing it.  He wore a mask of horror.

“Z, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just...” he turned away, “the officer told ‘em to get down. He exploded like a smashed pumpkin.”

Z ruthlessly stripped himself down as Log, fearing the truth of those words, did the same.  Z took to the shower as Log helped himself to the sink and hand soap.  He couldn’t reason why the pain hurt so badly this time when it went away at the university.  What was different?  He finally ceded that this was real, whatever it was.  He could not deny the look in Z’s eyes, the screams, or the pain.

Ray came back with the promised clothes.  Log grabbed loose fitting brown cargo pants, socks, and a light brown button-up shirt.  Z’s were about the same with a brown t-shirt that said, “Eat dirt.”  Ray led them back downstairs and pointed to a closet filled with different sized brown boots.  They both found a pair that fit, set them by the door, and took seats in the living room.

Ray was looking out the window with hands clasped behind his back, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Sorta.”

Z and Log glanced at each other with a smirk.  Log was about to ask more questions when Ray sighed, “I could do with your names.”

Log stared, “How could you not know them, they’re on the passports.”

“What you see on the passport is most convincing to you.  The security guard saw something different.  It doesn’t matter, what’s your name?”

“Logunese Liberatus.”

A short pause.

“Zaxian Robere.”

“Two very interesting names for two very interesting people,” he turned around, his face revealing no emotion, “We decided that they wouldn’t dare attack us in a populated area.  That is how we have always conducted ourselves, on the fringe of awareness.  This one breaks rules.”

Z shuffled beside Log on the couch and asked, “What rules, big man?  Who the hell are you?  What in the hell is going on?!”

Ray sighed, his huge muscles tensed as he stretched his arms out.  He started to pace back and forth in front of them, with a few pauses to glare.  Z sat back crossing his legs idly with a harrumph.  Log waited patiently; he knew this had to do with him.

Z suddenly asked, “What was that place of darkness?”

Log frowned at him, “W-what place of darkness?”

Ray stopped pacing and glanced at Z sideways.  “That, Zaxian Robere, was the Dimensional Occupancy, or more accurately, my Dimensional Occupancy.  That is how we sliced to the safe house, here.”

Log was confused, “You mean that rubbery feeling?”

Ray laughed, “A first for that description,” he sat on the floor almost looking them in the eye, “That is called the Dimensional Drift.  That is how we get to the Dimensional Occupancy.  From there I can concentrate on this location and doff the DO, short for Dimensional Occupancy.  You’ll get it.”

“I’m confused.”

“Yes, that’s obvious.  Your eyes were closed so you could only feel the initial drift.  Doffing the occupancy doesn’t have the same effect because we are returning to our natural state.  Being able to consciously touch that place is the reason we are different.”

Zaxian stopped idly tapping his foot and leaned forward, “So I can do this Dimensional Drift, too?”

“I don’t know,” Ray sat back eyeing them both, “you are strong with it, but your friend is impossibly strong.  Our leader suspects that it maybe the friendship that links the ability to you.  We’re not entirely certain how these things pass on.  What we do know is some psychopath with this ability is using it to kill people.”

Log thought about it for a moment, “So when we go into the Dimensional Drift are there green sparks?”

Ray smiled, “Yes, there are green sparks.  We believe the DO is connected to the Zero Point of all existence.  The sparks are an energy byproduct of our drifting.  Some believe it is the energy trying to keep us here, and by drifting it suddenly has nothing to hold against, coalescing into green sparks.  Personally, I don’t care, but I’m glad you’re making the connection.”

“What connection?” Z had a serious caste to his face.

“The guy who attacked the White House, Z. The video you argued about with Professor Trent.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, “So how do I make stuff explode?”

Rays face went immediately blank.  “We don’t know.  What we’re able to do can only happen in the DO or we draw directly from it.  We can only do that for short bursts, and nothing impressive like we've seen so far from these 'cloaks,' you call them.  Working with the DO is exhausting.  We’ll have to confer with Ulysses for an answer.  This cannot end well.”

“Who’s Ulysses?”

“Our leader... quiet, someone is outside.”

Ray moved in a crouch and was beside the door before Log could respond to his warning.  The door opened and with sudden violence Zim was thrown to the ground, a hand around his throat.  He didn’t attempt to resist, just sat there in his blood-stained tank-top and jeans.  They disappeared in a shower of sparks and reappeared only a second later.  Both were suddenly standing, about where they were before they drifted, but Zim’s clothes were clean and new as Ray was patting him on the back.

“I had to be sure.”

“Don’t worry yourself over it.” Zim’s cool voice continued, “I’ve booked us on the Angelica.”

Ray gave an off-hand wave, “Good.  I thought you were killed.”

“I was convinced of the same.  One followed me too close and I was able to pull her in.”

“And?”

“She’s dead.”

Ray sat on the floor with a thud, arms wrapped around his knees as Zim leaned against the wall, cool as you will.  Silence permeated the air until Zim spoke, “Have you explained?”

“I was trying to tell them what we’re capable of.”

“I see.  Well, well…” His gaze took the two in, “You two are fortunate I’ve arrived or Ray here would have confused you to the brink of desertion.”

Ray’s grunt didn’t disrupt two sudden smiles.

“What we are capable of is known as HyperPsyPhysioDisplacement, no need to be long winded so we merely say HPPD for short, are you two following?”

Log was astounded by this man who had the air of a professor but dressed like an ignorant redneck.

Z grinned, “Like a chimo after a schoolgirl.”

“Disgusting, but I’m glad you’re following.  HPPD is essentially mind over matter.  It is a process of those who radiate enough excess energy to perform it.  Once trained you can saturate your electro-magnetic field to that of this dimension, sort to speak, turning you into a free radical, and all free radicals are absorbed by the center of existence known as the Zero Point.”

Log was overwhelmed, “You mean the Dimensional Occupancy?”

“Precisely!  Our Dimensional Occupancy is our defined space within the infinity known as the Zero Point, some presume to say it is our soul.  The rules there are different than here.  You can do whatever your imagination can conjure with practice and endurance.  The mind controls the physical reality, instead of the physical reality controlling the mind.”

Log sat back, he didn’t know what to think.  Everything to the core of his being was telling him that these people are insane - clever, but insane.  The memories of the pain, of the attacks, of the airport spoke differently.  It was too much to take in.  How could this go unnoticed for so long, or at all?  Why, all of a sudden, does someone decide to take power for himself and use it against people?

“Why haven’t attacks like this happened before?”

“Great inquiry! Well,” he paused to itch his chin, “there have been attempts at power using this gift, especially in Russia, but to do so requires the initiator to take one person at a time to the DO to attempt whatever it is they desire.  It’s not easy, just like running a few miles here exhausts you – concentrating on more than you can handle will do the same.  That’s dangerous, even if it’s someone who doesn’t know what the DO is.”

“Why?”

Zim frowned with an impatient sigh as if Log were purposefully being difficult, “The contest between two or more DO’s is known as Proelium Mentis – a battle of the minds.  There are degrees but we believe if you think someone is an ally your DO will respond in a similar manner.  Anyone who is not an ally is an enemy.  To heal someone you must consider them an ally to do Constructive variations, where as enemies you are only capable of Destructive variations.  In essence, if they strike out at you when you’re exhausted they can easily kill you.”

He paused a moment stroking a thumb and forefinger down the length of his chin, “The people causing all of this are doing what’s available in the DO but practically impossible here.  Or so we thought.  Somehow they’re bridging the two.  No one has ever considered it because it’s equivalent to existing in two places at the same time.”

Ray growled, “This isn’t a damn class.  That’s enough for now.  When we speak to Ulysses he can guide us on what to do.  No doubt you two will be trained.  Go upstairs – one to each room,” his gaze shifted to Zim, “We have to talk.”

Zaxian was already moving toward the stairs so Log found no ground to argue.  He shuffled behind his friend like a punished teenager with his mind spinning around the possibilities.  Logically none of it made sense so he had to keep an eye on his ‘saviors,’ but there were people trying to kill him and that leaned toward validation.  Z moved into a room and fell onto the bed without speaking a word.  Logunese thought to talk to him about the events but thought better of it, the attack in the airport cost Zaxian something today.  He’ll speak of it when he is ready.

With his head deep in a fluffy pillow, Log tried to narrow down his emotions to control them.  Fear would lead to excitement that would drown in sadness that sparked fury that moved into uncertainty and finally fear again.  There was too much going on with too many possibilities and too much danger.  He didn’t know if his friends were his friends or if they were his enemy acting like his friends, or if he was dreaming.  Who in their right mind could believe some crackpot story about drifting off to some magical place where anything is possible?  Maybe children, but that’s about it.  Log would keep his defenses intact and watch out for Z.  Too much could go wrong.

His mind, uneasy and strained, took a long while to find sleep.