Chapter 55

“I’ll succeed,” Karl said, and took the pen, scratching his name on the paper presented to him.

The room burst into light, and Fox stood and stared at the memory swirling in from of him. There it was, the memory that they needed. The last one. Fox stepped forward.

“You can’t have it, they’ll kill me!” Karl screamed.

The whirlwind had stopped, and the fog behind him was moving strangely. Fox turned his back on it and took another step toward the memory. “You have brought this upon yourself,” he said, and leaned forward, eyes shut.

His forehead contacted the memory, and it was soft and warm, like sunlight on an early summer morning, when the day hadn’t become so hot and the coolness of the morning was starting to fade. It sank into his skin, and when Fox opened his eyes again, the memory was gone, absorbed.

“I won’t let you out,” Karl cried, voice rising in volume and pitch.

“I can always get out,” Fox said with a smile.