“Eventually, I could concentrate a little more, but then the nightmares grew worse. That brought the White Rabbit. The White Rabbit brought Sorbacov. That became a vicious circle. I got faster at laying out the parts and then beginning to understand and put them together. Each time I got further along.”
“You didn’t have this going on every single night?” Czar asked.
“Not after the fourth week. The bomb was becoming too real. Zyah realized it before I did. The first two weeks I was pretty out of it and nothing could take away the pain. By that third week she was staying in the room, sitting up all night in a chair. By the fourth week she was stopping the nightmare almost before it began. We could both hear the ticking of a clock. Maestro heard it a few times. That was alarming. I knew then that my illusions, the White Rabbit and Sorbacov, were beginning to blur into the alternate reality of the bomb. That was scary being in Anat’s house.”
“We both felt that someone had been watching us at times,” Zyah said. “We couldn’t see anyone, but a couple of times when Player was making the bomb, I thought I could see something murky over Sorbacov’s shoulder. It gave me the creeps. I thought it was someone from Player’s past, like Sorbacov.”
“They came to me,” Czar said. “I told them to write down separately what they saw and felt the next time it happened.”
Player indicated the drawing. “I knew the plans for the bomb were in the drawing. I had no idea about the portal.”
“Who would?” Savage muttered. “That’s insane.”
“It was insane to see those eyes staring at us,” Zyah said. “It was the creepiest thing ever, and I’m not altogether sure I can sleep in my bedroom ever again.”
“I thought Czar might recognize him from my past, but he didn’t,” Player added.
“And you believe this man was actually somewhere else,” Mechanic said, coming to stand beside Player to stare into the middle of the drawing, “looking through a portal at you? Because if that’s so, was he summoned? How did he get there? How did you summon him?”
Player turned that over in his mind. It was a good question, and there was only one answer. “There has to be a portal on his side. It’s possible he’s connected to the bomb.”
Czar nodded. “That’s the only answer. He would have to be drawn to the bomb, and there has to be another portal. Zyah said she started noticing a shadowy figure behind Sorbacov in the dreams Player was having in his mind. Those became illusions and then alternate reality. It went White Rabbit, which was illusion, and then Sorbacov, which used to be the alternate reality. Is that correct, Player?”
Player nodded. “They both had a pocket watch on a chain. We all remember that fucking pocket watch of Sorbacov’s. When I was building a bomb, he’d take it out and time me, acting like if I wasn’t fast enough, he was going to punish me. I was never fast enough to suit him, but I could block him out most of the time by focusing on the bomb if it was new enough. Sometimes he brought a friend with him, and that’s what threw Zyah off. She thought this man in the background was the friend Sorbacov kept bringing.”
“Sorbacov is dead now, so it’s impossible for him to be the alternate reality,” Czar mused. “So is his ‘friend.’ The new man isn’t dead. He’s where the illusion crossed over. The bomb started ticking, and Maestro heard it.”
“I think Anat said she heard it as well,” Maestro said.
“We all did the day Jonas was there,” Savage said. “But Zyah kissed you and it stopped.”
“I was building the bomb in my head. I’d spent part of the day sitting on the bed, staring at that drawing. Before, I’d been in the bed staring at it. Just after Zyah got home, my head hurt so fucking bad I thought my brains were leaking out. I just needed the pain to stop for a few minutes. I went up the stairs and sat on the end of the bed, hoping it would stop before I had to go back downstairs and face the cops. I was staring at the drawing again. I couldn’t look away. Sometimes I felt like it mesmerized me. It made my head hurt worse, and I began building the bomb to try to stop it.”
Czar drummed his fingers on the wall. “Suppose the drawing triggered migraines in you, Player. You stared at the picture for hours. Your mind saw the plans for the bomb and put it all together. The longer you looked at it, the more your head hurt.”
“It’s possible,” Player agreed. “I was out of it when I went downstairs and Jonas was there with Jackson. All I had was building that bomb or I was going to keel over.”