Wired Read online

  Jim's good humor was infectious and Blair found himself grinning back. "Yeah, I know. Simon would..." Blair's whole universe lurched. A burning flash of pain seared through his mind, nearly doubling him over. Simon... and Daryl... Daryl crying...

  "We'll have to call him when we get home," said Jim, his voice still calm and serene.

  "When we get..." Blair raised his head slowly. Fighting back the pain, he strained to focus on his partner. In the time it took to blink, Jim had moved again. Toward the waiting trees. Just like before. "Jim... please... don't go in there." Blair's heart pounded painfully, his fear rooting him to the spot. He couldn't bear to chase after Jim only to watch him disappear again.

  To his relief, Jim hesitated, eyeing him curiously. "Why?"

  "Because... because there's something in there... something alive..." Blair blurted out, certain he'd seen a shadowy presence stalking through the trees. "It's just ahead of you. Can't you see it?"

  Jim turned and stared into the darkness. Blair felt another surge of relief. If there was something there, Jim's Sentinel sight would find it. He wouldn't be hampered by the confusion that blinded his Guide. Panic returned when Jim looked back, shaking his head. "Nothing there, Chief."

  Thunder rolled overhead and Blair glanced anxiously at Jim, afraid of the affect the deafening assault would have on his friend's senses. He expected to find his partner reeling in distress. Instead, Jim appeared unconcerned, staring back at him as if nothing had happened. What the hell was going on?

  "Jim, didn't you hear that?"

  "Hear what, Chief?"

  The scream of an angry animal cut through the air. Blair caught a flash of eyes, glowing in the darkness, just beyond his friend.

  "Don't tell me you didn't hear that, either," Blair demanded, his gaze fixed on the spot where the eyes had disappeared. Something was there. Something that he could see and hear, but that the Sentinel couldn't. Why should he? You're the one that's losing it.

  "Look, Blair, I know you're tired. We've been through a lot, but now we're headed home for a well deserved rest." His partner's voice was soft, soothing, comforting. Blair suddenly realized how achingly tired he was; how compelling Jim's words were. "I understand why you've been holding back, Chief. You've been pushing yourself, balancing between two worlds..."

  Two worlds is right, man. And this one sucks.

  "... for so long that you're just running out of steam. When you get this run down, everything becomes a nightmare."

  "You think that's what it is? You think that's why this is happening?" Blair 's head throbbed as he tried to sort through the confusion in his mind.

  "I'm sure of it." Jim's voice reflected his certainty and Blair wanted to believe it. He wanted this nightmare to end; he wanted to go home. Without taking his eyes from his partner, he moved a step forward, but something held him back. Looking down, he saw that the rod was wrapped with tendrils of vine.

  "Leave it," he heard Jim call out. "I'll give you a hand if you need one." Blair hesitated, the rod in his hand pulsing in syncopated beat to the throbbing in his head. "Come on, Chief. I know you think you have all the answers, but when things are this far out of control, you've got to let someone else help."

  He's making sense. Listen to him. He wants to be in charge here, so let him. What's the big deal? It all sounded so reasonable. Jim was a man who needed to be in control. Why not let him take over? Admit it, you haven't been handling this very well on your own. Why don't you just do what he wants?

  "Blair what's wrong? Don't you trust me?"

  "I do trust you, man. More than you know. It's just..." Blair tugged half-heartedly at the rod, but the vines still held it fast. Why was it so difficult to just drop the thing? Why not let go, turn to Jim and take his hand? It wasn't as if he hadn't relied on Jim in the past. It would be so easy to let him take over. So natural...

  There's nothing natural about this place.

  Blair shuddered as a scream of animal rage erupted from the darkness. The metal rod came alive in his grasp -- writhing like one of the sparking vines that slithered down from the treetops. With a wrenching twist he tore the rod free and swung it wildly, battering at the tendrils that wove and sputtered around him.

  "Blair, it's time to go home. It's just a little farther... just through here..."

  Blair screamed in terror as Jim's words grew fainter. He tried to catch sight of the older man, but the vines were pouring down like deadly snakes and it was all Blair could do to keep them from touching him. The metal rod pulsed in his hand, rigid once more. He swung it with all his remaining strength, desperate to clear a path so that he could follow. For a split second, he saw an opening. Before he could move toward it, an ebony shape flew out of the darkness and sent him crashing to the ground.

  [Crackle]

  Blair pressed his eyes shut, fearful of what he'd find.

  [Image of a forest, shards of knife-edged glass; glittering like diamonds, throwing back distorted reflections of reality.]

  [Crackle]

  He still held the walking stick, but it felt different -- cold, smooth. He ran his hand along it and recoiled, his eyes opening in shock at the pain. Blood oozed from a long gash across his fingers. The stick -- hockey stick, metal rod? -- had turned into a staff of glass, glittering and knife-sharp. Hesitantly, he lifted his head. Seeing his own reflection thrown back by the shimmering forest, staggered him.

  He closed his eyes, tightening his hold on the staff. This time he welcomed the pain. Focus. Focus on the reality of it. Pain is normal. Pain is natural.

  There's nothing natural about this place.

  When he heard the snarl he opened his eyes, searching for the presence that he knew he would find. The panther. Jim's spirit guide. It was here, with them. It had been with them all along.

  He saw a flicker of black, shifting along the surfaces of the glass panes. The distorted images brought to mind the mirrors in a fun house -- another place where reality traveled in directions too complicated for the eye to follow. Too bad this isn't part of a carnival sideshow. Then all I'd have to do is look for the exit sign.

  He heard the panther's angry scream and moved forward, desperately searching for signs of Jim. In all the other places, all the other "realities" his partner had been there. He was sure of that. Was Jim here now and already somewhere ahead? Or was Blair alone this time?

  That thought made him shudder and he gripped the staff even tighter, hardly feeling the physical pain over the anguish in his heart. The cat's low rumbling reached him and Blair nodded. The panther was here. That had to mean that Jim was, too. Blair had to find and protect him. Even though he couldn't see it, Blair could feel the same terrifying, glowing light waiting somewhere ahead. Whatever it was, its power had beckoned to Jim, blocking his Sentinel abilities and the link that connected him to his Guide.

  A reflection in the glass shards caught his eye and he bolted forward.

  "Jim wait!"

  He saw his friend turn and look in his direction. Blair forced his way between two of the glass trees, wincing at the pain as he touched their edges, frantic to reach Jim before he lost sight of him again. He heard the panther scream in rage, but he ignored it. He strained to reach forward and grab at his friend.

  His hand closed on pain. In disbelief, he stared at the flowing blood and his mind screamed in despair. Nothing. Nothing but a reflection. Jim was gone. Had he ever been there? Desperately, Blair whirled around, seeing only more mirror-like images of himself.

  "JIM!" Panic drove the scream from his throat. The ear-splitting shatter of breaking glass assailed him and he flinched at the sound. The panther cried out again. This time it was crouched in front of him, tail thrashing in anger as it prepared to spring. Blair dove to his right, scrambling to get away, heedless of the pain tearing at his skin .

  As desperately as he tried to avoid it, the panther was always there, blocking his path. Blair dodged again, and this time ran blindly into one of the shards. The impact staggered him backw
ard a few steps. Dazed, he dropped heavily to the ground. Straining to draw breath back into his tortured lungs, he was barely aware of the tiny daggers of glass that pierced his knees.

  Hot breath touched his face and he raised his head to see the panther. Blair trembled in fear, but couldn't force himself to move. The cat sat waiting, its tail snapping in agitation. Anger surged, pushing away his fear. He struggled to his feet and the cat rose as well, blocking his path again.

  "Why are you doing this?" Blair glared at the waiting cat, screaming out his frustration. "Why won't you let me go to him?" There was no answer, only the intensity of mesmerizing eyes that bored into him. He felt as though he was on ly a step away from being drawn inside the shining orbs.

  Suddenly the panther blinked. The connection that had transfixed him was gone. What remained was a nearly overwhelming impression of ancient power and knowledge. Blair stood frozen in place, his mind scrambling to connect the fragments of images and thoughts that would put this puzzle together and give him the right solution. Protection. That was the key. Jim's animal spirit was trying to protect the Sentinel, just as Blair was. So why were they at cross purposes? Why was the panther keeping him from Jim? His job was to watch Jim's back, to teach, to guide...

  To guide, not follow.

  Was that it?

  Was the panther trying to stop him from following because that was the danger?

  Under normal circumstances, Jim always took the lead, with Blair's supportive presence only a step behind. But here, maybe the rules had to change.

  There's nothing natural about this place.

  Blair swallowed hard against the painful realization that he'd almost blown it. "I'm supposed to lead here, aren't I?"

  The panther's response was a soft rumbling purr. Blair looked over the cat's head, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jim or even his reflection in the glittering forest, but there was no sign of his friend. Fear pushed him to take an instinctive step forward. The panther's snarl stopped him in his tracks.

  Berating himself for almost making the same mistake again, Blair forced himself to remain still. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing. He pushed away the screaming voice inside that told him that he had to move, had to get to Jim before it was too late.

  The only way to catch him is to stand still. Every time you move, he just gets farther ahead. So just stay put. He stood waiting, the soft reassuring purr of the panther the only sound in his existence.

  "Sandburg, where are you?"

  The faint sound of Jim's voice almost startled Blair to movement. Gritting his teeth, he held firm and didn't answer.

  "Blair, what's the problem? We're almost home. What's holding you up?"

  The perplexed, almost angry tone made Blair tremble, but he remained silent. His partner's voice was louder now. Did that mean he was closer?

  "Damn it, Sandburg, answer me! Where are you?" The voice was closer! Blair was sure of it. He opened his eyes and met the unblinking stare of the panther, and nodded.

  "I'm here, Jim," he whispered in a voice so soft that it barely reached his own ears.

  "Blair, where are you?" There was an edge of uncertainty in that familiar voice now.

  "Listen to my voice... focus on my heartbeat," Blair murmured encouragingly, straining his own hearing to follow the soft sounds of approaching footsteps. Reflections of his partner shimmered in a dozen of the glass trees and Blair's eyes flitted back and forth between them until he felt dizzy.

  He clenched the glass rod with both hands, struggling to hold onto his control. The staff shattered in his grip and he cried out in agony as the fragments drove into his palms. Once again, he wanted to open his hands and thrust the shards away, but he knew he didn't dare. Pushing away the pain he closed his eyes , forcing himself to concentrate on Jim and on the image that he built in his mind of their true reality -- the loft, the station bull pen, the smell of Simon's cigars. That was their true world. That's where they belonged. Not here. Somehow he had to guide them back. Jim couldn't do it. Blair would have to.

  "Blair..."

  His eyes flew open. Jim was standing a few feet away. Jim. Not a reflection. There was confusion in the look that he fixed on his Guide and the younger man struggled to maintain his tenuous hold on his own thoughts while meeting that gaze.

  "Blair, what is it? Why did you stop? Why aren't you following me?"

  "I can't." Blair glanced down and saw that the panther had turned toward Jim, its tail lashing in agitation. "I can't follow you here. I'm not supposed to. We're not supposed to be here. This isn't our place."

  "But it's so beautiful here... so peaceful. Besides, we're almost home."

  "No. Home is not that way. Not our home." Blair countered, his voice still a whisper. Behind him, he suddenly heard the roar of voices and the scream of sirens. "Our home is back that way. We need to go there."

  Jim's head whipped around and tilted to the side in the familiar posture that Blair recognized as his Sentinel's "listening" mode. A look of pain crossed Jim's face and he shook his head, taking a step backward.

  "No... I can't... there's too much..." the big man objected.

  The sounds behind them grew to an almost deafening roar. Blair kept his voice to a whisper, urgently pleading in his most persuasive Guide tones. "Yes you can. Just listen to me. You need to concentrate on my voice, my heartbeat. I'm your Guide, remember? I'm here to help you. Just concentrate on me. Filter out the rest."

  The confusion on Jim's face made Blair want to rush forward and touch him physically in reassurance, but he forced himself to remain where he was. The panther snarled as a wave of pain pushed at Blair from behind, knocking him to his knees. Gasping, Blair struggled against the sensations that seemed ready to consume him, but he forced them away and extended his right hand toward Jim.

  "Take my hand... let me help you..." he whispered urgently. The big man stared at him in fear, shaking his head. "Jim, you have to trust me... there isn't anymore time..."

  Jim shuddered and glanced over his shoulder, his face filled with a look of longing that nearly broke Blair's heart. For a moment his own certainty faltered. What if he was wrong? What if Jim was supposed to be here? Perhaps it was his own selfishness -- his fear of losing Jim -- that had made this place a living nightmare. Maybe it was unfair of him to ask Jim to leave what he obviously perceived as a place of peace, to return to the war-zone that was their real life.

  A blazing shaft of pain ripped through him and Blair screamed as his body jerked in response. A sensory chaos of sight, smells and sound rolled over him in a physical assault. The glass forest exploded around them, sending daggers of glittering death everywhere. Blair gasped for breath as he felt them pierce his shuddering body. "JIM!" Falling toward blackness, he struggled to keep his eyes open, holding to the need to see Jim -- to help him. The Sentinel's head whipped back around toward his tortured Guide and a strange look of recognition crossed his face. Screaming out his partner's name Jim lunged forward to grasp the outstretched hand.

  Simon's car screeched to a stop just short of the barricades. He groaned aloud at the sight of the overturned school bus, the power company vans, the fire trucks and the wreckers. He didn't even remember getting out of his car or pushing his way through the crowd of on-lookers. He didn't stop his headlong progress until one of the firefighters caught his arm.

  "I'm sorry sir, but this is a restricted area. You can't go in there."

  "Like hell I can't," Simon growled, flashing his badge. "My son was on that bus."

  Not waiting for the man to release him, Simon tore free and headed through the chaos. He barely heard the shouts from the emergency crews as they dealt with the hot wires. His eyes were searching for the rescue squads -- that's where he would find Daryl. "Alive and well," he murmured, repeating the mantra that had been echoing in his head for the past twenty minutes -- ever since the 911 call.

  "Multiple vehicle accident, one car carrier, one school bus filled with high school students, power lines dow
n, status of injured unknown."

  The words were burned into Simon's mind. Bad enough that it had happened. Worse that his son was on that bus. His only hope was that Jim and Blair had been only a few blocks away from the accident when the call came in. With any luck, his best team would have been on the scene within minutes.

  Simon's eyes caught sight of a familiar figure and he nearly bowled over two of the EMTs in his efforts to reach his son's side. "Daryl!"

  His son turned, dropping the blanket that had been wrapped around his slim shoulders and dashed forward, throwing his arms around his father. Simon crushed Daryl to his chest, wrapping his long arms around his son protectively, hardly believing that he was safe and actually there, in his arms.

  He eased his hold as he became aware of the sobs that were wracking Daryl's body. His own hands were trembling as he placed them on either side of his son's head, tilting the tear streaked face upward. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

  "I'm... I'm fine... They... they saved me... all of us... They got us off the bus... before..."

  Daryl choked back another sob and his gaze shifted from his father's face, staring off to the right fearfully. Simon turned, seeking what had disturbed his son, but saw only more emergency personnel gathered near the demolished cab of the school bus.

  "Daryl, what is it?"

  "Blair... and Jim..."

  Stunned, Simon's head jerked up and around toward the front of the bus. "Wait here." His long legs carried him to the waiting group and he pushed his way to the front.

  Simon's expression grew grim as he scanned the wreckage. It was a miracle that anyone had survived. The car carrier had jackknifed, spewing the trailer's six cars in all directions. One of them had crashed through the carrier's cab, slicing it open. Black, greasy smoke still billowed out from underneath the wreck as firefighters poured gallons of chemical foam onto the gasoline and oil that coated the pavement, trying to keep it contained. Simon could hear the hiss and crackle of live wires and wondered how many power poles had come down in the collision. His gaze caught on the overturned school bus and his heart lurched as he realized that the whole front end was missing -- Daryl had been on that bus! Coughing as a gust of wind carried the smoke toward them, he blinked away the stinging tears and suddenly remembered what had drawn him there. His eyes swept the destruction again, searching for some sign of his friends. Dangling wires, torn pieces of what had been new cars, piles of unrecognizable debris...