Darkest Designs by Dale Mayer Page B

day.
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    Silence.
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    â€œCorrect?” She snapped, her voice sharper than she’d intended. Shit. Fear ate away at her nerves. She ran her fingers through her hair.
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    Possibly. We have no data to confirm that. Based on dimensional travel history, we do know it is easier to move through a pathway already forged.
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    Storey brightened. “Of course it is. Same as any path. The person who walks in the lead breaks the path and the person who comes behind will be able to walk easier. So therefore, we should take the same way back to where I was. In the portal between the Louers’ caves and Paxton’s lab.”
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    Excitement surged between her. She knew there’d be a way out of this. She just had to get her mind wrapped around the concept.
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    In theory.
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    She laughed. “Stylus, you are getting downright maudlin.”
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    We do not like the lack of data. Decisions should be made on facts.
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    â€œSure, but like you said,” she added cheerfully, “We don’t have any to go on. We will be the first. Therefore we are creating the data for you to store for others.”
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    She couldn’t be sure, but it was almost as if the air lightened. She grinned. There was more personality from the stylus every day. There were souls in there. Such a fascinating concept.
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    â€œNow to test that theory, we have to try from the point where we arrived in this dimension.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you agree with that logic?”
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    Yes.
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    She smiled, feeling much better. It always felt better to have others agree – even if they were both wrong. “Okay. So…we need to return to the physical location where we arrived. You have those coordinates.”
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    Yes.
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    Storey turned to look at Dillon. He had fallen asleep again. On the damn paper. She sighed and nudged his shoulder. He slept on. She nudged him harder. “Dillon? Wake up.”
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    He snuffled.
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    At least that’s the way it sounded. Bizarre. “Dillon. It’s time to go. Wake up please. I need to pick up that piece of paper.”
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    Dillon opened his eyes. Looked down, and stepped back. “Sorry,” he whispered. “So tired.”
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    Returning wasn’t looking so easy. Storey started to realize just how much of a problem she had on her hand. She didn’t know if Dillon would survive the trip. The biggest concern was that his physical body couldn’t handle the travel or even worse, couldn’t handle another reality. Gravity, atmosphere, and whatever else was different here would suddenly impact a body held in stasis for over a century. His muscles – would they even hold him upright after all this time? If she managed to get him out of here would he collapse and die in her arms?
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    Was he better off here? He was alive this way. If his existence here was life. Maybe down the road, Paxton’s people could create the technology to come back here and find Dillon.
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    No. He’s almost gone.
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    Shit.
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    â€œI’m his only hope, aren’t I?”
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    We believe so.
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    Believe? Such an odd word for the stylus. Everything the stylus had spoken of before had been definite, based on facts. It had been sure, almost computerized in its analysis of problems and optimal solutions. Until this mess. This was a new scenario for the stylus. And it had no answers. Only suggestions.
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    She shrugged. “First, we have to return to where we arrived in the In-between.” And maybe in the meantime she’d come up with an answer. She spun around to reorient herself and grimaced. “Going back to where we arrived isn’t going to be easy, is it?”
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    Consider this reality and your thoughts.
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    She paused and considered the stylus’s words. And grinned. She scooped up the paper that Dillon had been standing on, grabbed Dillon’s hand and closed her eyes. She took a