Nathan felt a sinking sensation in his gut. “Yeah, Michael. The ravens are leaving.”
“There.” Michael pointed the direction he had originally been staring at. Dark clouds gathered in the distance, massing faster than any Nathan had ever seen before. “They’re heading toward the storm.”
Nathan glanced at the solitary figure on the far side of the deck. Guy stood by himself, but what unnerved Nathan was that he too stared the direction Michael indicated. His eyes appeared to follow something in the sky, where not a single thing was visible other than the distant squall.
Michael nodded. “That’s where we have to go, Nate. That’s where we’ll find Blackwell’s missing facility.”
“What? That storm looks pretty rough, Michael. How do you know?”
“How do I know?” Michael gave him an incredulous stare. “How do I know? The same way you know where your house is. I just know, all right?”
He motioned to Damon. “We’re off course. We have to head that way.” The thunderheads seemed to expand even as he pointed, dark and terrible in their swift formation. Lighting flickered and danced across the waters.
Damon’s face twisted. “What — we change course based off a tingle in your spine? Some uncomfortable swelling in your big toe? Not going to happen. Our equipment indicated we’re heading for the strongest aberrant signal. You and your paranormal act can go back to the nut house you came from. We’re not about to dive head-first into a tropical storm.”
The undisguised scorn had no apparent effect on Michael. He returned Damon’s searing gaze with unflappable calm. “Your equipment is wrong. I’m telling you, it’s that way.”
“He’s right.”
They all turned when Guy interrupted. He regarded Damon with an unblinking stare. “Tell the captain to alter our course based on Michael’s projections.”
Damon shifted his feet, strained annoyance visible on his face. “Commander, are you certain you want to—”
“You have your orders.”
Damon glared at Michael before turning to head toward the bridge. Guy’s attention was also fixed on Michael. “Things are about to get worse. Much worse. We’re teetering on the edge of the ergosphere, but soon we’ll be sucked into the vortex. You two had better get inside.” He gave them a curt nod before striding away.
Nathan turned to Michael. “This is getting crazy. All of this because of some ravens no one else can see?”
“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not real, Nate.”
Nathan watched in astonishment as Michael abruptly walked off.
The feeling of watching eyes prickled, and Nathan glanced up. Blackwell leaned against the upper deck balcony in a perfectly nonchalant pose.
“Something wrong with Michael?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who invested in convincing him he was insane.”
“If you say so. Be careful, Nathan.”
“What?”
“Be very careful. Just because he wasn’t proven insane doesn’t mean he’s not touched by something. Think about it. Everyone in direct contact, everyone in a five mile radius of the mill explosion all were affected to some extent by mental instability or outright madness. For Michael it may just be a matter of time. You might not want to be around if that happens.”
“You think I’ll back off just because you say so? Too late for that.”
“Just alerting you to the dangers, Nathan. Do with it as you will.”
“If it’s so dangerous, why are you here?”
“Because I need to see for myself.”
“See what?”
“An interdimensional bridge. A tunnel connecting time and space.”
“You think that’s what it is?” He felt the curiosity build up in a quivering rush. “Is that what your studies show? You believe there’s a chance of contact with intelligent life on the other side?”
“You’d have to ask Dr. Kelley about that. She’s the expert.”
“Is that a joke? You never gave me the chance.”
“We’ve been busy, if you haven’t noticed. It’s been a delicate fight against time to get this all up and running.” He shrugged. “We’ll find out very soon if her theories are correct. The point is, there’s no telling how Michael will be affected by direct contact with the Aberration. Stay on the ship, Mr. Ryder.”
A wry grin crossed Nathan’s lips. “I’m not buying your concern, Blackwell. More like there’s something you don’t want me to see.”
“There’s a lot I don’t want you to see. You’re a nuisance with your need to report to the public. But in this case I’m just giving you a fair warning. Do with it as you will.”
Footsteps approached from behind. “Nate?”
Elena wore a bewildered expression. “What the hell is going on? Everyone was talking about you selling us out, then about Michael going nuts or something. What’s up?”
Nathan glanced back up, but Blackwell had slipped away. He shook his head and sighed. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m still sane, so I can’t possibly understand. All I know is we’re headed for the storm.”
“The storm?” Her eyes widened when she turned that direction. The sky darkened rapidly, and the gloom writhed toward them like black tentacles. It seemed impossible for any storm to gather so quickly. There was something sinister about it, something that made Nathan want to run downstairs and huddle under the newly washed bed sheets.
Elena seemed to sense it as well, unconsciously crossing herself and raising her fingers to her lips. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. We’d better get inside.”
The ship rolled once again, a swift dip from high to low that made Nathan’s insides churn. He placed a hand on his stomach and groaned.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
Elena glanced at him in surprise. “Are you serious? These are just choppy waters. We haven’t even really hit the rough stuff yet.”
Nathan grimaced at the contents of his plate. “It’s not that. It’s this pizza.”
They sat at one of the long tables in the mess room. Other staff and soldiers were also there, chatting and laughing as if they weren’t about to dive headfirst into an unnaturally destructive storm. Maybe they didn’t understand. Nathan glanced up at the low ceiling, feeling particularly claustrophobic. He would be glad when they finally reached landfall. He had enough of the metallic coffin.
Elena took a huge bite of her slice and grinned around the mouthful. “Come on, Nate. Who doesn’t like pizza?”
“It’s not the pizza. It’s the mushrooms. I specifically asked for no mushrooms.”
“The cook doesn’t like you.” Ariki glanced over at them. His beefy muscles were on full display in an armless shirt, his neck thicker than Nathan’s thigh. The Maori tribal tattoos made his glower even more menacing.
Nathan pretended to be unimpressed. “Sorry to hear that.”
“The other soldiers — they don’t like you either.”
Nathan glanced over. Sure enough, a few of the others had turned that direction, their faces hard as they stared.
“No surprise.”
“I don’t like you.” The large man placed his forearms on the table with a thump. “No one likes you.”
“Oh, give it a rest, Ariki.” Elena swatted him on the bicep. “Nathan is concerned about his pizza.”
“I can take care of that.” Ariki’s face broke into a toothy grin as he commandeered the massive slice from Nathan’s plate and devoured most of it in a single bite. “Mmmm… pizza. What do you got against mushrooms, my man?”
“They’re disgusting. Ballooning out the ground anywhere it’s damp and moldy…” Nathan shuddered. “They grow from dead things, you know.”