Free X's for Eyes by Laird Barron

of fear.” Dred gripped his brother’s arm and met his gaze. He lowered his voice. “Slocum is wrong. It ain’t a radio tower, and it ain’t a weapon. It’s something else.”
    “Agreed. However, that may be a distinction lacking a difference. Did you dream of Arthur too?”
    “I also dreamed about Dad.” Dred nodded toward the ziggurat. “He says we gotta go in or we’re worm food.”
    “So does Arthur.”
    “It’s the only way to fix this mess.”
    “Which mess? Arthur’s dad exacting righteous vengeance upon us? The cultists after our blood? Corporate skinning us alive when they figure out what happened with Nancy? Or whatever horrible unforeseeable planet-destroying outcome will result from launching her in the first place?”
    “Take your pick. Our presence here isn’t happenstance. More like destiny. Mom would say the same.”
    Mac weighed the possibilities. “Can’t say I subscribe to destiny. Even so, neither can I deny a strong hunch that you’re right. Dr. Bole theorizes the Dreamtime program is a conduit. This . . . device may have tapped in somehow.”
    “Dreamtime empowers the subconscious. The subconscious is a doorway to the infinite.”
    The boys stood close together and smiled innocuous, lying smiles. The adults paid them not a shred of attention.
    “Tonight, then” Mac said.
    “Tonight,” Dred said. “I’ll rustle supplies. Beans, bullets, band aids.”
    “ Booze , bullets, and band aids.”
    “By the way, and I’m just asking—but when we first came through the entrance, did ya happen to notice anything peculiar about the mercs?”
    “Hmm. The captain has a lazy eye?” Had Ustinov’s pupils been too large, the irises distorted when the man flirted with Dr. Bravery? It seemed eminently possible.
    “The entire squad does.”
    A dozen Russian commandos charged onto the landing and proceeded to gut the nearest technicians. Several soldiers advanced upon the lab station. The Tooms boys acted without conscious thought—they turned tail and raced across the wildly swaying rope bridge. Sifu Kung Fan had taught them, if feasible, to always run away when confronted with overwhelming force, especially if their retreat could be screened by disposable peons. Meanwhile, Nestor drew and fired and one of the Spetsnaz pitched over in his tracks. Captain Ustinov hurled his spear. The tip missed its mark by a hair, however the haft caught Nestor’s arm and knocked his pistol aside. Bullets zinged harmlessly.
    The advancing soldiers skewered Dr. Slocum and Mr. Kowalski. Dr. Bravery flung a portable lamp at the attackers. Nestor grabbed her around the waist and leaped backward over the edge. The pair plummeted into the mist. Dislodged by the gunplay, random ice stalactites sheared free of the cavern roof and exploded in the depths.
    Upon gaining the far side of the bridge, the boys hacked through the rope. Telemachus Crabbe evidently understood the dire nature of the situation; he’d skidded down the treacherous steps and gotten a head start with his own hatchet. Two Spetsnaz who’d made it halfway across in pursuit clung desperately as the bridge swung free and collided with the far ice wall. The soldiers tumbled to their deaths. The boys exulted in the fading shrieks with celebratory backslaps.
    The Spetsnaz dispatched the remaining technicians with the callous vigor of hunters butchering a passel of baby seals. Captain Ustinov approached the cliff-edge. His white anorak and pants dripped red. His men assembled and gazed wordlessly across the gulf. Some blew kisses.
    Behind the soldiers, a prone figure stirred. Mr. Kowalski gained his feet, swaying and bloodied. His winter clothes were tattered. Blood leaked from multiple slashes and punctures. The man saluted the boys. He gathered himself and kicked two commandos over the edge before the rest twigged to the threat. He scuttled backward at alternating angles to avoid the retaliatory spear thrusts of his foes, who had recovered from his