Jeremy Robinson - MirrorWorld

As I round a carousel and consider running through it, a sharp beeping sound fills the air.

The microwave bomb .

It’s time to face Lyons.

I stop and turn around so quickly that it catches Lyons off guard. He flinches and slides to a standstill, fifteen feet between us. We’re framed by a unicorn-themed carousel and a pirate ship. Not the most epic of battlegrounds, but I enjoy the juxtaposition.

I hold my wrist up, revealing the beeping watch that I synced with the bomb’s timer when I was with Cobb. I reach up and push a button to stop it. “Do you know what that means?”

Dread Lyons’s seven black eyes squint. He’s still in there somewhere. “It means you’ve lost.” I take the backpack off, unzip it, and dump a tire-repair kit onto the ground. I don’t need to tell him that Cobb took the bomb, that he was going to find someplace to contain it or dump it in the ocean, which would reduce the weapon’s impact. Either way, the colony would survive. The war he longed for and the vengeance he craved—for the deaths he caused—would never come to pass.

Not against the Dread, anyway. The cold gaze in his seven eyes says he’ll be satisfied, to some extent, by reducing my body to pulp. The only question remaining is which one of us will take action first? The answer is never really in question. I make my move before the thought finishes.

The handgun hidden among the tire iron, jack, flares, and orange cones is a 9 mm recovered from the SUV. It lacks the punch I’d need to kill Lyons, which is unfortunate, but it’s a good start. The weapon comes up in an unflinching two-hand grip.

I pull the trigger. Just once. The black orb on the side of Lyons’s head erupts, spewing a mixture of oily white and glowing red fluids.

His head snaps back, his jaw drops open, and tendrils whip the air. A roar warbles over the quiet Storyland walkways. When he’s done, he turns the remaining six eyes toward me. I can feel his loathing for me. Like the Dread whispering, it’s in my head, wordless, but clear.

And without effect.

My second shot bursts the Dread eye on the left side of his head. He shrieks again, and this time charges blindly, head turned away to protect his remaining eyes. This is it. I can end him right here.

I slip into the mirror world intending to reenter the real world, inside Lyons, just long enough to create a me-sized hole in his chest. Storyland disappears, replaced by a dark, green-veined swamp. With an eye still tuned to the real world, I watch Lyons charge. I visualize my attack, picturing the few simple steps. Eyes closed and breath held, I’ll arrive inside his body. Just for a second. Then I’ll slip back into the mirror world. Carried by his forward motion, I’ll be flung into the swamp, the landing buffered by a foot of water. Simple.

But that’s not exactly how it works out. Not even close.

Lyons turns his ugly head forward at that last second, slips fully into the mirror world, and swipes out with one of his big clawed hands. I manage to squeeze off three more rounds before I’m struck, but they just get lodged in the thick armor that is now his forehead.

The one bit of luck is that the curved tip of his long, mole claw misses me. While I’m not impaled or severed in two, the result is close to being lifted off the ground and flung by a rock-solid, oversize lacrosse stick. The impact catches me below the arm. I feel my ribs flex and then break. Three of them. Snap, snap, snap . And then I’m doing a repeat performance of Pinocchio’s acrobatics, soaring through the air. As I reach the apex of my arc, I’ve got to make a few choices. Lyons is already chasing after me, so there won’t be time to think once I land. He might just kill me, but I suspect he’s going to toy with me. I’m a mouse to him now, and, like a cat, he’s going to play with me until my body simply gives up.

Luckily for me, I’m a mouse with world-class military training, a killer instinct, and fearless nature. Mind made up, I finish my fall in the Dread world, letting the water soften my landing. I take the hit on my left side, protecting my freshly broken ribs, and waste no time getting to my feet. I’ve still got one more challenge to overcome before avoiding this immediate danger. Injured and soaked through, I need to jump at least three feet up.

I bend my knees and shove hard, three seconds until Lyons’s arrival. The wet earth squishes beneath my feet, absorbing some of my energy. The water clings to my legs, not wanting to let me go. But then I’m free and rising. Two seconds to go. I lift my legs like a frog and, with no time left, return to the real world. Lyons follows and reaches for me but grabs a large plastic horse instead.

I land on the carousel floor between a unicorn and Cinderella’s pumpkin chariot. Lyons is in a slightly more precarious situation. While his right arm is free to move, the rest of him is embedded within metal bars, a double set of Pegasus, and the floor of the ride. He wrenches the interfering horse out of the floor and tosses it aside. His free arm swings out, gouging a trough through the floor where I’d been a moment before. Even with my quick backward roll, he nearly catches me.

But now I’m on my feet and he’s trapped.

“This could have gone differently,” I tell him, reaching over my shoulder. “You were naive when you destroyed the first colony. I can look past that. And we lost nearly everything, you and I.” Lyons stops struggling against the carousel. Actually appears to be listening. “But it could have stopped there. It should have stopped there. Both sides drew blood, but if we’re honest, you and I, and the rest of humanity, have done far more damage. I didn’t know fear until a few days ago, but in that short amount of time, I learned that it can be conquered, like any other emotion.”

I draw Faithful, feeling stronger with the blade in my hand.

Lyons eyes the weapon but doesn’t move. Could he actually be considering what I’m saying? Was there ever a time when he listened—really listened—to me? I’m not sure. But I’m going to give him a chance. For Maya, whose fate is still a mystery, and who is the reason I need to end this.

“I’m going to ask you this only once,” I say, stepping closer but still out of reach. “Can you let it go? Can you move past your childhood and loss, forgive your enemy, and move on? Show the Dread that we are better than them. Show them that humanity is more than war and destruction. Show them how to forgive.”

I grip the machete tightly, anticipating his reply.

Unfortunately, I don’t anticipate exactly how the response will be delivered.

Lyons disappears. It’s a blink. A fraction of a second. And when he returns, he’s a step closer, driving a hook-clawed hand into my gut like a giant fist. I pitch forward and fall back, gasping for air, but am thankful it wasn’t the claws’ sharp tip that had made contact.

The carousel spins as Lyons tries to reach me again. But he’s locked up once more. Problem is, he already knows how to overcome that problem. When he disappears again, I throw myself away from him, injured but mobile and still wielding Faithful.

When Lyons returns, he’s no longer trapped. He’s still inside the carousel, but he’s standing on the floor, not in it. With a savage roar, he follows my path through the ride, destroying unicorns, horses, and fairy-tale creatures with brutal efficiency.

The ride, it seems, is over. One lap around the slowly spinning carousel is all I’m going to get. After that, I’ll be slowed by the ruins and he can continue plowing his way through.

I’ve got no tricks left that he can’t match.

So we’ll do it the old-fashioned way. Part man to used-to-be man. I step off the carousel, walking calmly, my back to Lyons. When I hear him smash free of the now-ruined ride, I turn around to face him, left hand clutching my side, right hand holding Faithful.