Penult (The Liminality, Part Four)

Chapter 68: Above

***

I faded off right to the back seat of Wendell's Bentley. We were on the road again, weaving around tourist buses and Sunday drivers along the shore of Loch Ness. The strangest sense of déjà vu struck me queasy. This was the same road we had taken after my rescue from the basement of Edmund's church. I had been in bad shape then, as well, on the verge of death, but oodles better than how I felt now.

After a time, we turned away from the lake on a road that rose through a pass in the hills. I felt beyond horrible. There was a pain in the pit of my stomach and a nausea that no amount of dry heaving could relieve. Acid splinters jabbed at my every joint. My head throbbed harder than my worst hangover ever.

"He's back," whispered Jessica.

"Is he? Cool," said Wendell, peeking up into the rear view. "How's he doing?"

Jessica squirmed around in the front seat, her expression grave.

"Not so good."

"Yeah, well ricin will do that," said Wendell. "As quick as it's happening, looks like they weaponized it. Some kind of quick-release formulation. Hang on. We're almost there, kid."

"Guys. I was told this might be treatable." My voice was ragged. I practically coughed the words.

"Pfft. Who told you that?" said Wendell.

"My friend. Olivier. He said the toxin could be neutralized, the way we transform paper ... and wood ... stuff."

"That's different," said Wendell. "We're talking molecules here, kid. Individual molecules."

"I know, but ... could you ... do you think you could help me?"

Wendell swerved onto the shoulder and pulled up next to a clump of wind-sculpted fir trees. He loosened his shoulder belt and twisted around in the seat. Jess was already staring at me. She seemed stoic enough, but a stray tear had snuck out of her left eye and clung to her cheek.

"Kid. You're grasping for straws. Get over it."

"Why can't you help me?" I said, my voice cracking. "You're a master too."

Wendell's eyes lost their focus. He seemed to be searching something. His mind? His soul? The Singularity? When his gaze returned, so did a frown.

"Kid. This ricin stuff. No matter where they injected you. It's spread. If we had tried something right after, maybe there would be a chance. But by now it's all diffused."

I clamped my eyes and did some searching of my own. I took inventory of every weird twitch, pang and ache afflicting my body. I homed in on the specific areas being affected. I could feel how things worked, even at the cellular level. My self-awareness went far beyond any normal perceptions of my body functions, but as I had feared, my consciousness failed to gain on purchase on anything tangible. I might as well have been trying to tackle a greased pig with soapy hands.

And so, in desperation, I prayed. To no one and no thing in particular. I didn't expect an answer, but somehow my outreach found its way to a familiar place that I had come to realize is always within and around me, the countless mingled souls of the Singularity.

It was the first time I had ever made contact with it while awake and without the presence a tapped-in soul to serve as a medium and guide. It understood immediately what I needed, and endeavored in good faith to show me what I sought to learn.

It took no time at all to deliver a response. I tried to understand what it was telling me but the knowledge proved both cryptic and elusive. Like a crucial word hovering just beyond the edge of consciousness, on verge of retrieval, but never reaching my lips.