Ralph leaned forward in the passenger seat of Pam's VW Bug. He squinted into the tiny mirror behind the sun visor.
"Anything?" she said.
He exhaled.
"No," he said. "Just the beginning of a blinding headache."
"Should we really be worried about a dream?" she said.
He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"It was real." He bounced his head against the seat. "No, it wasn't real, but it was more than a dream."
"I'm not making any sense am I?" he said.
"No," she said and patted his knee. "But we'll find him."
They drove in silence. Ralph blinked hard and tried to focus on the vanity mirror.
"This is just an idea," Pam said at last. "But maybe you're trying too hard."
He looked over and she glanced away from the road to meet his eyes.
"What if-" she looked back at the road. "Well, it seems like you're in Bill's head. That's the only explanation, right?"
He nodded.
"I think so."
"Maybe you're too close right now," she said. "I mean, after last weekend. Maybe if you-"
She chewed her lip for a moment.
"You know how sometimes, when you look at an optical illusion, you see one thing first, then you relax your eyes and suddenly it looks completely different?"
She glanced over at him.
"Can you relax your mental eyes?" she said.
He leaned back in the seat.
"I can try," he said.
He made a conscious effort to relax his hands, his arms, his legs. He forced his jaw muscles to unclench. He inhaled deeply and counted to five while he exhaled.
Pam turned the wheel and scenery slid away to his right. He looked into the mirror and saw his own face looking back.
"We're almost to Bill's," said Pam quietly. "If it doesn't work here in the car we can try again upstairs."
A tickle started at the top of his spine. He almost stretched toward it, but stopped himself in time. The tickle grew, filling his mind like water flowing uphill.
"It's working," he said softly.
The mirror wavered as if in a heat haze.
He called out the pictures as they took form.
"A square building, one room with windows on… three sides. It's a steering deck on a ship. There are blocks. Containers stacked on the deck. A carrier ship."
He leaned forward, then felt a hand gently pushing him back against the seat. He exhaled the breath he'd been holding and seemed to sink down through the deck.
"Two levels, three levels, bunks," he narrated as the images sleeted past like floors outside an elevator.
"The hold, I think," he said, staring around at the cavernous room. "It's empty except… There's a door on one wall. It's hard to see; it's pretty dark. There's… it's a metal box on the opposite wall. It's one of those transport containers – about the size of a U-haul, but it-"
He blinked.
"It's got bars on one side. I-It's a cage."
As if from a long way away he heard Pam's sharp intake of breath.
He drifted toward the cage. Something shifted inside. A huddled shape.
"There's something- I can't quite-"
The shape moved, uncurled and fell sideways.
Ralph choked out the words, "It's Bill, Pam. He looks bad. His face is all gray. He- wait, I think-"
He moved closer as Bill rolled over onto his back. He watched as Bill's fingers dug at the metal decking. His legs bent and pushed against the floor. His broad chest heaved with the effort as he pushed up on one arm. His head sagged forward, then slowly lifted. His eyes shifted behind his closed lids.
Ralph heard Pam's voice fading in and out of hearing.
"-happening, Ralph? Can you see-"
In fits and jerks, Bill's eyes fluttered open.
"He's trying to wake up," Ralph breathed. "I think he's drugged."
His vision shifted and he was beyond the bars, inside the huge metal container.
Bill pushed up on one arm, the other was bent at an odd angle. His white shirt was torn and stained with red. He shoved up on his good arm, his back pushing along the container wall, leaving streaked bloodstains.
"He's trying to focus, his eyes aren't working right…"
Bill narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. Ralph gasped as he recognized the gesture.
"Pam," Ralph breathed, "I think he can-"
Bill's head turned and his unfocused eyes looked into Ralph's. His cracked lips moved.
"R-r-ra-?" the sound ended in a sighing breath.
Ralph felt his own breathing accelerate. He fought to stay calm.
"Bill," he breathed, "Can you hear me?"
Bill's head moved; he nodded.
Clamping down the astonished thoughts racing through his mind, Ralph forced himself to speak slowly.
"Bill," he said, shaping each word with care. "Hold on. I'm coming."
The other man blinked slowly.
"Where-?" he said in a rasping whisper.
"You're on a boat," Ralph said. "I'm not really here, well, I am, sort of, but-"
He jumped as the door on the other side of the huge room banged open. He looked up to see two men in dark coats, one short, one long, stride across the wide room, marching through pale pools of light cast by round work lights in the roof high above.
He leaned toward Bill and whispered urgently.
"I'll find you. I promise, I'll find you."
Bill exhaled a shuddering breath and slumped back against the wall. His head sagged.
As they reached the cage, the smaller of the two men pulled a small black case from the pocket of his woolen peacoat.
"Well, Mr. Maxwell," he said in clipped, faintly accented tones. "It seems I am just in time."
The man opened the case and lifted out a long-needled syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid. He deftly fitted the syringe into the rubber top of the bottle with one hand and pulled back the plunger with the other.
"Arm," he said absently, as if to himself.
The overcoated man stepped forward and reached between the bars. His thick hand closed over Bill's broken arm and pulled. Ralph heard Bill's hiss of pain.
"Hey!" Ralph said. He reached out to push the man's hand away and saw his fingers pass through the man's coat sleeve and out the other side. He watched helplessly as the man dragged Bill sideways.
Bill seemed to have no strength to resist. He fell toward the bars, but at the last instant stiffened and heaved himself in the opposite direction, dragging the other man face first into the cage. Bill's mouth turned up in a grim smile.
In an instant, the overcoated man regained his grip and yanked. He wrenched Bill's broken arm to the side and dragged it between the bars. Bill's chest heaved, but he didn't resist.
The overcoated man reached into a pocket with his free hand and pulled out a handkerchief. He swiped at the blood streaming from his nose.
"Interesting," said the peacoated man with a tight smile.
He pushed the needle back into the bottle and drew out twice the liquid of the original dose. He bent and jabbed the needle into Bill's upper arm, ramming the plunger home with startling force.
"After that display I think we will increase the dose, Mr. Maxwell. Although I'm sure Lugaz would prefer you to be awake while he repays you for his broken nose."
Bill's body spasmed and his head rolled to the side. The overcoated man released his grip and let Bill fall. His head hit the floor with a thump.
The two men stood watching for a long moment, then turned toward the door. Their voices carried back across the hold.
"Such an interesting specimen," said overcoated man, "I will be curious to see if he survives that dose."
"Yavshinko will be disappointed if he dies, Doctor," said Lugaz in a nasal growl.
"Animals die in transport all the time," said the Doctor. ""What is one, more or less?"
They disappeared through the far door.
Ralph bent down.
"Bill," he said. "Can you hear me?"
There was no response.
Ralph reached out a hand toward the slack body and the walls shimmered and changed. For the space of a breath, he was sitting in Pam's VW, and in the next instant he was in a tenement apartment. Outside a broad river ran past the building. A train rattled by with a shrieking wail seemingly inches from the outer wall. Bill sat by the window, thumbing through a loose-leaf notebook.
This Bill was older than the boyish soldier, but not by much. His face bore a few strained lines around the eyes, but there were no flecks of gray in his thick, brown hair. A heavy revolver lay on the table in front of him as he read.
A man with a shoulder holster sat on the nearby bed playing solitaire. As he laid down a card, there was a crack of splintering wood and the door burst open. A spray of gunfire beat against the walls, shattering the window. Bill dived for the floor. The gunfire cut off and running footsteps pounded down the stairs outside. Bill climbed shakily to his feet. Blood ran down his arm from a hole in his shoulder. He sagged to his knees by the bed. The other agent lay across it, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He had Ralph's face.
"No!" Ralph shouted. "Listen to me, Bill. It's just a dream."
Bill didn't react. He reached out toward the fallen man and touched his fingers to the still throat.
Ralph's vision blurred and the dirty gray walls seemed to vibrate. They faded to white and fell away. The sound of traffic fell on his hears with a near physical roar and the next instant he was staring at his own reflection in the vanity mirror in Pam's VW.
He heard Pam give a long exhale in the seat beside him.
"You're back," she said. "Tell me you're back."
Ralph nodded and slumped forward until his forehead rested against the dashboard.
"Pam," he said softly. "I really need an aspirin."
----------------------------
They were standing on the flat roof of Bill's apartment building. Early evening traffic hummed on the street below.
"Has that ever happened before?" Pam said.
"Nothing like it," Ralph said pacing out his runway on the concrete roof. "And it was only Bill. The other guys didn't hear me at all."
"Do you think it's the new suit?" she said.
"I don't know," Ralph said. He kicked away a stray piece of tile. "I can't think about it now. I've got to find him."
"You've got to find the ship first," Pam said.
"I know," Ralph said and sighed. "I guess I'll just relax and fly and hope I get another vision."
He looked up to see Pam cock an eyebrow at him.
"Relax and fly at the same time," she said slowly. "Can I offer you a life vest?"
He flashed what he hoped looked like a confident smile.
"I'm a pretty strong swimmer," he said.
He turned away and took a few practice steps across the roof.
"At least let me drive you to the coast," she said behind him.
He turned back, shaking his head.
"It would take too long," he said. "Bill's running out of time."
She nodded.
"I know," she said and took a deep breath. "Okay, got your spare aspirin?"
He held up his hand and showed her the bump in his sleeve next to the communicator.
"Good," she said.
As she moved toward him, he watched the way the evening breeze ruffled her hair, making the cascading waves sweep across her shoulders. Her creamy skin glowed in the dying light.
She brushed his face with her long, cool fingers and pulled him toward her. He bent forward and touched her soft lips with his own.
They kissed lightly once, twice and then deeply, all other sound and sensation falling away as he lived in the smell and the taste of her.
They parted at last and he brushed his thumb across her lip.
"Pam," he said. "I-"
"I know," she whispered. "Just come back."
She stepped back and gave him a gentle smile.
"Go get him," she said.
He nodded and turned away. He took a deep breath, consciously relaxed his tight limbs, then took three quick steps and leapt.
He looked back over his shoulder at the receding rooftop. Pam was barely visible as a pale shape in the darkness. He turned and sped out toward the sea.
-continued-