MirrorWorld

Two Dread crocs make their move at once, each catching a portion of the man, silencing his screams. It’s only a second before a fresh holler of pain fills the air, this time followed by the staccato roar of automatic gunfire. It’s followed by more and more, nearby and distant, thunderously announcing the arrival of the human race in the mirror world. The battle for the colony’s perimeter has begun.

I want no part in it.

I step inside the colony and am greeted by darkness. It lasts just a moment as my eyes adjust, faster than before. Luminous veins line the walls and ceiling, providing a rainbow of ebbing, flowing light. I take the smartphone out, intending to check on Maya’s position, but the screen is black and dripping water. I put the device away and move quietly, stepping down the smooth, curving grade. It appears this giant colony is designed similarly to the smaller one in New Hampshire, spiraling downward toward an open core. This means I’ve got a long journey ahead of me. I think the colony is a thousand feet across, give or take a hundred, so the perimeter is just over three thousand feet. After just my second revolution, I’ll have traveled a mile. At a run, I can cover the distance in six minutes, but there’s no way to know how many circuits the tunnel makes before reaching the bottom. As wide as this colony is, I might have to run several miles before reaching the bottom, and I don’t have a half hour to spare.

But what other choice do I have?

Throwing caution to the wind, I run, setting a fast but not impossible pace. The air smells rank, strong with ammonia, and stings my throat, but I haven’t passed out yet, so there is still enough oxygen to keep me alive.

Three minutes into my run, I haven’t encountered any resistance.

At three minutes, five seconds, everything changes.

Alcoves line the walls on both sides up ahead. In the last colony, these spaces contained empty nests. With all the action outside and the commotion in New Orleans, I expect the same here. As I run by the first alcove and glance inside, I realize my mistake. With the closest thing I’ve seen to a stunned expression on a Dread, a bull watches me pass by.

For a moment, I think it’s just going to let me pass, but then a cry rings out, echoing down the long, curved tunnel. The bellow is joined by a sharp surge of mental whispering.

Barks from far beyond me and all around me explode into the air.

I pour on the speed, instinct telling me to run from the danger while my intellect screams at me to stop because I’m simply putting myself deeper in Dread territory. My flight into danger is short-lived. Thumping feet turn my attention to the left.

A Dread bull charges from an alcove, head down, perfectly aimed. A wave of fear explodes from the monster, tearing through my body, twisting my insides like a giant corkscrew spiraling through my gut. Its four eyes lock on target, confident. With only a second before impact, I freeze in place.

51

Muscles spasm and lock.

Lungs seize.

My body becomes a statue. Unflinching. Unmoving.

And still alive.

I can’t see, smell, hear, or feel anything. That’s not entirely true. I feel cold. And wet. Trapped tightly on all sides, moisture seeping past my clothing to chill skin.

And then I realize I have felt this before. Once. Locked in stone beneath the New Hampshire colony. I’ve left the mirror world and leapt into the very earth itself, which in New Orleans is so far below the water table there is actual water pressure. It squeezes in on me. My nose stings as water fills it, threatening to spill down my throat and fill my lungs.

In a blink, it’s all gone. The pressure. The water. All of it. I’m standing in the Dread-colony hallway, no doubt looking a little stunned. The charging bull has just passed. It felt like minutes trapped in earth, but was just a second, maybe two. The bull, having already lunged, sails through the air and into an adjacent alcove, where it careens into the back wall.

The thick but papery structure is no match for the bull. The wall tears, spilling the Dread into the space beyond. Hundreds of thin layers flutter away, butterflies in flight. A gaping hole is all that remains.

As more bulls leap from their alcoves, turning their heads back and forth, huffing and sniffing, most craning their gaze toward me, I run. For the hole. Not only is it my only hope of escape, it should also help me avoid an entire revolution around the colony, saving me a long run.

I sprint toward the alcove as the floor vibrates from the impact of so many charging bulls. It’s full of bunched-up debris, swirled into black nests, intertwined with glowing veins of surging liquid.

A head rears up.

I pull Faithful from my back, prepare to swing.

But there is something in the Dread’s four large eyes that holds me back. Not anger, or hate, or even fear.