Absolute Power (Book 1): Origins (10 page)

“Thank you, doctor,” Robert said.  “If you can give us a moment.”  Stein left them. “What do you think?”  Robert asked Angie.

“You’re the senior officer,” she replied.  “And it’s the Colonel’s orders.”

“But you and I both know your father is up to something,” Robert said.

“You’ve been with him longer than I have.  You know him better,” Angie replied.

“And if we were supposed to know his plan he would have told us,” Robert said mostly to himself.  “Thanks, sis.”

Angie grumbled and stomped off.  “I will tell Doctor Stein we are taking Schreier.”

The wind outside of the RV was howling.  A pale nine-year-old girl lay under a mound of blankets in the back room.  Despite everything, Sara was still shivering.  Her mother checked her forehead again.  The lines on her face were deep, from worry.  Michelle Klaas brushed her hand down her daughter’s long brown hair.  Sara's fever had been running for nearly three days now.  Her father, Ben, had stopped at a commune deep inside a Native American reservation.  They had an old friend here who they hope might be able to help.

Michelle looked at the cups and herbs piled on the bedside table.  So far none of it had worked and if Sara got any worse there could be permanent damage.

“Fuck them,” Michelle heard Ben's voice come from outside.

Standing up, Michelle peeked out the window and saw her husband talking to their friend.  The sky was grey and brown, filled with storm clouds.  It was monsoon season in Arizona, and flash floods could come and go at any moment.

“They're not teaching them; they're training them to be killers,” Ben was still yelling.  Normally he was a quiet man, but seeing his daughter’s sickness made him feel helpless.  He had hoped that Johnny could do something for her.

Johnny leaned against the RV, trying to stay out of the storm and doing his best to keep Ben calm.  His ponytail whipped around, banging against his face.  The hand sewn leather coat he wore wasn't doing much to keep him warm.

“The government is never gonna change, man,” Johnny said.

“I thought maybe they might,” Ben's voice got sad.  “Then The One starts conscripting people and I knew I was wrong to hope.”

“You did what you had to do,” Johnny was working his way to telling Ben the hard truth.

“Yeah, but it's not what people should have to do,” Ben replied.  “We shouldn't live in a country we call free and then have to pack up in the middle of the night and run off.  Me and the girls have been running for nine years because some doctor was following orders to register Super-Humans.”

“A man doing the man's bidding,” Johnny put in.

“Some days I wish she wasn't...,” Ben couldn't finish the sentence.  “Or at least could have passed as normal, but when she was a baby...”

Michelle opened the RV door and stuck her head out.  “She still has a fever,” she informed them, “and I can't get her to eat anything.”

Ben nodded and looked to Johnny.

Johnny took in a deep breath then said, “I've done what I can for her.  Whatever she has its bad and at this point only big medicine can help.”

“America, freedom for the select few,” Ben growled.

He pushed past Michelle as he went into the RV.

“Ben...,” Michelle tried but couldn't say anything that would help.

She followed Ben to the back room where he took a seat next to Sara.  His big hand brushed her face waking her.  Sara's eyes flutter as they fought to stay open.

“Hey, baby,” Ben said to his daughter.  “Have any good dreams?”

“I like monkeys,” she replied deliriously.

“Well, I'll tell you what, I'll get you a monkey as soon as you get better,” he told her.  Ben looked back at his wife and didn't have to ask.

Michelle frowned and nodded.

“But first we have to take you to the hospital,” Ben said to Sara.

The words must have registered because Sara tried to sit up in bed.  She was panicked, and the delirium wasn't helping.  “We can't go,” she said.  “We can't go there; they'll put us all in prison, and I'll never see you again.”  She started to cry.  “I don't want to go to prison.”

Ben grabbed his daughter and held her as close as he could.  Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, and he closed them tight.

The second Sara fell asleep again; Ben started up the RV.  He sped out of the reservation and through the storm to the nearest city.  From the freeway, the tall white hospital loomed over them like an ominous sign.  Pulling the RV up to the emergency entrance Ben picked up his daughter and carried her inside.  The nurses got her to a bed, but when they pulled the blanket off of Sara they gasped.

“Go then,” Ben shouted, “Call whoever it is you need to call.”

He pulled the hospital sheets over Sara covering her body as it shifted shapes and sizes.

“I'm sorry daddy,” Sara said.  The commotion had woken her.  “I can't stop it.”

“It's not your fault, baby,” Ben said, “You are who you are, and you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Ben and Michelle were woken by a man and woman in grey uniforms.

“Good morning Mister and Misses Klaas,” the woman said.  She was young with long black hair. “I'm Private Cortez with The One.”

“We know what you are,” Ben snapped.  “You're here to take my daughter away and put us in prison.”

Private Cortez didn't balk at his affront.  She took a slow breath and did the best she could to explain.  “The One doesn't have any prisons,” she told them.  “We don't put Super-Humans in prison and we don't have the authority to put civilians there either.”  Michelle sat up in her chair focusing on what the woman was telling them.  “Sure, Free Flights are illegal, but that only really means they can't get jobs or government aid,” she continued.

The other officer stepped forward.  He was holding Sara's medical chart.  “Mister and Misses Klaas, your daughter has lymphoma,” he said roughly and paused to let that sink in.  “It's an aggressive case that will ravage her body.  There is no amount of money or medicine that will save her from the pain.  Lucky for her she'll be dead in a week, and to be quite frank this is all your fault.”

Cortez cut him off before he said anything worse, “What my Sergeant is saying is that this doesn't have to happen.  See, your daughter shouldn't be sick.  She's a shapeshifter, and she is very capable of healing herself.”

“Sara can't control her body like that,” Michelle told her.

The man looked down at her with his eyebrows raised.

“Don't give us that line about training and education,” Ben growled.

“Here's the thing,” the man said evenly.  “You can either believe me or not.  But I'm telling you that if your daughter comes with us she will live, she will have control over her abilities, and she will be well-taken care of.  So even if I am giving you the company line, the other option is to watch her die.”

Michelle turned to her husband.  She was willing to do anything to save Sara, she only hoped her husband could swallow his pride long enough to do the same.  Then after a second they both began to nod in unison.

“We have a helicopter on the roof,” the man said, “We'll move you all now.”

He left the room with Private Cortez in tow.  They headed to the nurses’ station to make arrangements.

“Sir,” Private Cortez said.  She knew she should let it go and keep her mouth shut.  “Do you think it was necessary to be so harsh with them?”

The Sergeant, who had been filling out paperwork, glanced up.  “They're idiots, and everything their daughter went through is their fault.  She could have been educated and fed on The One's dime.  Instead her parents dragged her around the country living in squalor.  Double or nothing the kid doesn't have a friend in the world.  Forget the physical pain, imagine the psychological damage.”

A part of the Private agreed with him.  She herself had lived a terrible childhood outside The One.  The difference was that Sara’s parents honestly believed they were doing the right thing.

“They're suffering,” she said, “and their intentions were good.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” The Sergeant retorted.  “Seriously, Private, why are you even in SHT?  Every day we deal with Norms mistreating our people.  But all I hear from you is pity and justification.”

“Honestly, sir, I don't know,” Cortez replied.  “I've been with The One for a while now and the whole time they had me training for OID.  Then I graduated, and I'm assigned to you.”

“By order of One Special Operations,” Lieutenant Gabriel Wilson surprised them.  He was standing behind them.  “Any idea why?”  Wilson looked at Cortez who turned to her Sergeant.  “As far as I can tell, Private, you have no qualifications for SHT.”

“Sir,” Cortez started.

“You take pity on Free Flights because they’ve had a hard life, and you ignore that Norms treat us like second rate citizens.  If you want to be an officer someday, you should take some pride in The One.  You give the impression that you're against us.”

“No, sir,” Cortez said quickly.  “The One took me in when I had nowhere else to go.”

“Well, maybe that's the problem,” Wilson said. “The comfortable life The One has given you has made you forget.  OSO wants you in this department, but they didn’t say where.  I think you need a transfer to the third world.  There are plenty of Lost Ones out there to help remind you why we do what we do.”  He turned to the Sergeant.  “The OSO has also given orders that the Klaas girl is priority,” Wilson snarled.  “I’ll be taking her from here.”  He stormed off down the hall.

“Am I really going to be transferred?”  Cortez asked her Sergeant.

“If Special Operations is involved I don’t want to know what’s going on,” he answered.

Hot.

Very hot.  That was all Private Alison Cortez could think.  Flies buzzed around her trying to get a sip of sweat from her skin.  She was standing in the shade of an open air market. The noise of the crowd was booming.  A few of the merchants tried to call her over in an attempt to sell a variety of trinkets.  Their broken English was barely understandable.  She cursed the man who had her transferred here.  A girl from the Illinois suburbs did not belong in India.  The only blessing was the new uniform.  It was an adaptation for the sweltering weather.  She was wearing grey shorts with a white linen shirt.  Her name and rank were pinned to the fabric, weighing it down.

Alison found it interesting how much the people here ignored her.  In America, the Norms went out of their way to stay clear of The One.  Worse, if they knew you were SHT.  In the west they were seen more and more like gestapo, snatching up people whenever they liked.  Sure it looked that way, but these people weren’t being thrown into prison cells.  They were given opportunities, education and a place to live.  And then there was this; jobs like looking for The Lost Ones was a good thing.  Most of the kids they found were starving or abused.

A woman her age, wearing the same uniform, came pushing through the market.  She had short black hair that stuck out in every direction.  Her skin was, or at least used to be, porcelain white, but had now been turned pink by the sun.

“Hi,” the woman smiled and waved.

Alison waited in her shady spot.

“I'm Jessica,” the woman shook Alison's hand.  “Just call me Jess.  You're Alison, right?”

“Private Alison Cortez,” Alison told her.

“We're both Privates,” Jess snickered at the semi-rude statement.  “I think we don't have to go saluting each other all the time.”

“Okay,” Alison said cautiously.  It was a huge change of protocol from her last posting.  “So have you been in India long?”

“I graduated from the Australia Complex last year,” Jess answered.  “They had me there for a while in Rescue and Relief, but I didn't really fit in.  So I got moved to Japan under that new One Integration thing.  Then they said I talked too much, which wasn't good for PR.  So last month I transferred to SHT.”

“Then you’re new at this?” Alison asked.

“You’ve got seniority,” Jess smiled.

“I've never been outside the US,” Alison told her.  “Before The One I'd never been out of Illinois.  I don't even speak any other languages.”

“Which is why they paired us up I think,” Jess said cheerfully.  “Come on lets go check on our tips.”  She led the way out of the market and onto a broad street.  A few cars and motorcycles passed, but the road was mostly empty.  “You have any cash on you?” Jess asked.

“No,” Alison replied.  “Why?”

“We're going into a kinda poor part of town,” Jess told her.  “Lotta pickpockets about.”

“You're American?”  Alison asked.

“By a mild technicality,” Jess answered.  A pack of weathered motorcycles came rumbling down the street, and the two girls stepped out of the way.  “My dad is American, but my mom was Japanese.  I was born and raised in Japan.”

“How many languages do you speak?”  Alison asked.