Summerhill (10 page)

The two pressed on. When they reached a clearing a few minutes later, Summerhill stopped long enough to fish some jerky out of his satchel, sharing some with Katherine. It was thick, hearty, a little too chewy, but the flavor was good. Doing something mundane and personal helped to get rid of the feeling of walking through a half-remembered dream, the details of chewing and tasting and swallowing too immediate and identifiable to be anything but real. Summerhill made a point to remember that effect in case he felt his grasp on reality begin to slip later on.

“You know, when I realized I was on the run from the Consortium again,” Katherine said as she wiped away some dirt or moss she’d gotten on the front of her jacket after clambering over a large rock a few minutes earlier, “I figured I’d end up someplace weird, but hiking through a swamp wasn’t really what I was expecting.”

Summerhill chuckled. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that the more I get overwhelmed with expanding possibilities, the harder I get sidelined by things that happen outside of them.”

“Hardly seems fair of the universe, does it?” Katherine said, grinning as she bopped him on the shoulder with a gentle fist. “That sort of one-two punch is a bit of a cheap shot, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, so far, the universe hasn’t asked me what I think is fair. None of the universes I’ve been to yet, at any rate.”

Katherine turned and looked back at him, and then her smile abruptly faded. “Quiet,” she hissed. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I thought I heard voices.” She picked up her revolver and got to her feet, slowly and quietly. “You’re a dog. Aren’t you supposed to have good ears?”

Summerhill brought his ears up and listened. The wind picked up, and Katherine looked around in a panic as the leaves and branches above shook audibly. That sound soon died down, though, and Summerhill kept trying to hear the voices Katherine had mentioned.

“I don’t hear anything,” he assured her, and for good measure, he sniffed at the air again, but didn’t get much in the way of scent other than a generic forest smell. “Are you sure you’re not just—”

The light through the trees dimmed as some kind of flying craft zipped by overhead. Branches bowed in its wake, and the air hummed with the sound of advanced machinery. A moment later, out of the corner of his eye, Summerhill caught the movements of several humanoid shapes in the forest back the way they came.

“It’s the Consortium.” Katherine was already on the move, sparing only the briefest look to see if Summerhill was still with her.

Summerhill scooped up the satchel and took off after Katherine. The bag’s strap caught on a nearby branch, yanking him back and causing him to trip. He spat wet dirt out of his mouth as he got back to his feet. “I thought you said they wouldn’t find us out here,” he coughed out.

Katherine hesitated. For a few seconds, Summerhill thought she was going to run off without him, but finally she helped tug the satchel free of the branch. “They shouldn’t have,” she said, wasting no further time dallying once she’d untangled the strap. “We’re not even in the same reality anymore.”

“That doesn’t seem to have stopped them.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Katherine flapped one of her hands at the roots and greenery at Summerhill’s feet. “Can’t you stop them with that magic plant thing you do again?”

The dog shook his head. “Not against this many at once. Besides, the plants here don’t seem to like me very much.”

“Guess that brings us back to Plan A.” Katherine grabbed Summerhill by the hand and dragged him along with her as she ran.

The shadows of two more flying craft passed above the canopy. “And what plan is that, exactly?” Summerhill struggled with his one free hand to sling the satchel more carefully over his shoulder as he ran.

“Run and hide until we think of something better.” Katherine showed little heed for her surroundings, and Summerhill struggled to match her pace. The way she dragged him put strain on his arm, and his feet came dangerously close to slipping out from under him.

The trees to either side of him became a blur. “I’m not sure I like this plan,” he panted. “Are you sure surrender is really that bad an option?”

Katherine dove around a tall rock and let go of Summerhill. Using the rock as cover, she closed one eye, brought her gun up in both hands, and fired at their pursuers. The sound of the revolver roared through the forest, scaring up birds and wildlife and making Summerhill’s ears ring. There was no sign as to whether the shot had hit anyone, but Katherine was already on the move again.

At least the trees had spaced out enough to make running easier. If the Consortium had gotten the drop on them back when they’d been in the more crowded, swampy part of the woods, they’d have been slowed down considerably. As it was, being outnumbered was bad enough, but if they could improve their brief head start—

A wet patch of muddy earth grabbed hold of Summerhill’s foot, causing him to trip again. He yelped as his face splashed down into a shallow, stagnant pool. The water was odorless and (thankfully) flavorless, though that was of less concern than losing valuable seconds while running for his life. Now that he’d stumbled twice, there was little doubt that the better-equipped Consortium search team would be gaining on them.

Except a quick look behind him showed that they hadn’t gotten any closer. The pursuers only appeared in shadowy movements far back in the cluster of trees. None of them had fired a shot or called out any demand for surrender. They didn’t even appear to be moving very fast, given that their quarry was running.

“Katherine!” Summerhill shouted as he pushed himself back up and chased after her. “Katherine, hold on! I don’t think we need to run!”

Katherine didn’t say anything, look back, or even slow down for him to catch up. He supposed he couldn’t blame her under the circumstances, even if it was her very fear that—if Summerhill was right—she was running from.

The dog sprinted after her. He imagined the ground getting flatter and smoother, easier to run on. He imagined fewer obstacles to trip over—fewer rocks, fewer roots, fewer patches of mud. He imagined fewer low-hanging branches. He imagined himself gaining on Katherine.

And this time Summerhill did not trip. His feet didn’t get pulled into the mud and his satchel didn’t get caught on any stray branches. The terrain changed exactly as he hoped it would, the forest opening up, the path leveling out. A forceful gust of wind blew at his back as he willed it to.

He grabbed Katherine’s shoulder from behind. She spun and tried to shake him off, but the dog instead grabbed her by both arms and dragged her to a stop. “Katherine, it’s okay,” he said, trying to exude calm at her. “They’re not real. The Consortium’s not really out there.”

“Of course they are,” Katherine shot back. “They’re right—”

“They’re always just at the edge of where you can see and hear them, because that’s where you’re expecting them,” Summerhill said. “That’s where your subconscious is putting them.”

Katherine struggled against the dog’s grip. “Mr. Summerhill, please, we don’t have time for this,” she pleaded. “They’re going to be—”

“They’re going to be on us any second. Yeah, I know.” Summerhill let her go and spread his arms wide. “Except they’re not here, are they?”

The sky above the canopy was silent. Further back in the trees, the shadows of secretive movements became more infrequent. The sounds of footsteps through the underbrush grew quieter and quieter. Katherine stared back at Summerhill. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

Summerhill tapped a claw against his temple. “I think what’s in our heads is filling in the details here,” he said. “Haven’t you noticed how bland and generic everything is until you stop and try to observe it?”

Katherine shook her head and shifted her grip on her gun. “But the Consortium,” she insisted. “They were out there. We both saw them, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Summerhill said. “Right after you’d started talking about being on the run from them again, and we both started thinking that they might be out there.”

And now that Katherine had been distracted by the new flow of conversation, the signs of pursuit had disappeared completely. “The trees. When I started trying to remember what kinds of trees I remembered from back home, I started noticing them out here in the forest,” Katherine said. “But it’s not like I’m an expert.”

“And so the trees only look and feel half-real,” Summerhill pointed out. “Half-detailed. I think the world itself is trying to adapt to our expectations of it.”

“Well how the hell is it doing that?”

“How should I know?” Summerhill flashed Katherine a reassuring smile. “I’m just pointing out what I’m noticing.”

The air grew warmer as Katherine paced around the clearing. “Fine,” she said, holstering her revolver and rubbing her hands together as she walked. “If the world is taking what’s in our head and making it real, then where’s the spaceship I’m imagining to fly us out of here?”

Summerhill shook his head. “It doesn’t seem to work like that,” he said. “Like I said, it feels like our minds are filling in the details. That’s why our imagination can put the shadows of Consortium agents amongst the trees, but can’t actually create real people who are chasing after us.”

Now the branches up above shook despite the lack of wind, sprinkling the clearing below with spiraling leaves. Katherine clutched the sides of her head and grunted in frustration before she finally ceased pacing and looked back at Summerhill. “Fine. Let’s say your theory’s right. What do we do with that? Where does that get us?”

“For starters, I say let’s imagine that the forest comes to an end just past the point where we can see now,” Summerhill said. “Think about the rolling hills and open plains of New Zealand that you told me about, and I’ll try to do the same.”

“You don’t seriously think that we’re going to wind up in New Zealand just by wishing it and clicking our heels together three times, do you?”

The last part of that remark made Summerhill furrow his brow in confusion. “I—no, I mean, I don’t think it’s going to take us anywhere. I think it’ll just be nicer to walk through an open field than a dark and spooky forest, don’t you?”

Katherine drew her gun again, but left her hand hanging at her side. “You’re crazy,” she said. “But fine. I’ll humor you.” She eyed Summerhill with open suspicion, but said nothing further.

Within a minute, the leaves and branches above were spaced far enough apart that Summerhill could see the sky, the pale expanse tinged with the barest amount of blue. His steps quickened, and Katherine let out a sound of exasperation as she followed suit. Focusing their thoughts was working, Summerhill could tell, and he broke into a jog, eager to show Katherine that he was right.

At long last, they made it to the treeline. Spread out before them were gently rolling hills of pale green and a soft blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds. Despite it being wholly unremarkable in how plain and idyllic it was, the sight was the most welcome in the world.

Summerhill came to a stop and took slow, heavy breaths as he looked straight up. This was the first real sky he’d seen since leaving home—no, since leaving the World of the Pale Gray Sky. That wasn’t his home, he told himself. His real home was some other amazing place that was out there amongst countless somewheres, like Katherine had said.

High up above was the sun—or at least what passed for the sun. Instead of a bright yellow ball of light shining down on them, it was just a fuzzy, yellow-white blur without a defined shape and without the satisfying heat of a real sun. It was still more of a sun than Summerhill had ever known.

“Okay,” Katherine said, letting out a deep breath of her own. “How did you do this?”

“Not me,” Summerhill said with a smile. “Us.”

Katherine crouched down and ran her fingers through the grass. She plucked a few blades from the dirt, then patted the ground with her palm. “This is impossible,” she muttered.

“I thought ‘impossible’ was something the
Nusquam
crew didn’t believe in.”

One of the puffy clouds drifted in front of the not-quite-sun for a moment, and Katherine looked back up at Summerhill. “‘Impossible’ has to exist out there somewhere,” she said. “But if we haven’t found it yet, then maybe we’ll get out of this place after all.”

Summerhill extended a hand to help Katherine back up, but before she took it, a jolt ran up his spine and his ears perked. He thought he’d heard something, something faint, subtle and quick, too hard to catch.

A steady twitching vibrated inside his pocket. He set his hand over it, then realized that what he’d just heard was something inside his watch—the mainspring or the gear train or something—had broken or popped out of alignment or—

His train of thought was cut short as he felt his vision growing hazier. The ground under his feet started to feel less solid, less real; the color of the soft blue sky began to leach out into white; Katherine’s presence grew more distant.

His senses flailed in an attempt to find some anchor back to where he was, but when he finally found himself again, he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Nine

Displacement

Night was encroaching, the sky a deep, velvety purple that had yet to fade into true dark. The last rays of sunset were fading, marking the horizon with a band of bright orange, like a strip of distant fire.

Higher up in the sky, stars came into being against the darkness. First they appeared one by one, but as the moments ticked by, they began to emerge in greater number. They were so simple, mere pinpoints of light, and yet they were so beautiful, the first and only stars Summerhill could ever recall seeing. He was filled with the urge to make constellations out of the unfamiliar patterns they made.

A shape shifted next to him, and then nestled in against his left side, warm and solid, comforting. Then came a voice, sweet and almost-familiar, its tone teasingly playful. “You never asked.”

Summerhill heard himself reply, “Would you tell me?”

His reply came unbidden from his own lips, as if he had already been part of this conversation and knew what to say. But who was he talking to? When he tried to turn his head to look, his body refused to respond.

What was this?
When
was this? The person talking to him sounded familiar, but how? Was this someone or something from before the World of the Pale Gray Sky?

Was this even real?

Summerhill felt the individual at his side tuck in more cozily against him before letting out a hum of contentment. “It’s kind of a long story,” murmured whoever-it-was.

With that, Summerhill’s eyes turned back up toward the starlit sky, the last traces of sunlight having now disappeared completely. From beside him came a louder, happier hum, followed by a soft sigh, audible only due to the sheer idyllic quiet of the scene.