Alien Storm (4 page)

“Then we're really getting out of here,” Robert said, as if he could hardly believe it. “Are you sure we're doing the right thing? HIDRA are still looking for the fall virus cure. They need blood samples from kids like us, don't they?”

Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder. “We'll find a way to get them to HIDRA, but it's time we started a new life where nobody knows who we are. As long as we're Sarah and Robert Williams, there will always be people looking for us. Now let's go.”

As usual, Sarah and Robert found the lift out of order when they arrived at the apartment block in the north of Melbourne an hour later. The tower block was one of three built next to one another thirty years before to provide cheap housing in one of the poorest areas of the city. Now the towers were practically falling apart – half-empty slums that should have been torn down years before. Not a nice place to live, but perfect for people who didn't want to draw attention to themselves.

Sarah reminded herself of this as they trudged up the fifteen flights of stairs to the apartment they rented on the top floor. Disguised as the giant, she'd leased the “penthouse” two months before from one of the crooked landlords who operated the towers. Paying six months' rent up front had ensured no questions were asked.

“I could get us up here in the blink of an eye,” Robert grumbled as they walked round a black rubbish bag that had been left out on the landing on the fourteenth floor.

“Don't even think about teleporting,” Sarah said, shifting her grip on the loaded shopping bags she carried.

“I know, I know,” Robert muttered. “Keep a low profile.”

They reached the fifteenth floor and walked down the corridor to the third door on their left. The walls here were a faded yellow that hadn't been repainted since the tower was thrown up in the seventies. There was a constant smell of damp carpet, even on the hottest days. Robert rapped four times on the door and then used his key to open it.

On the other side, Wei – a round-faced Chinese kid dressed in jeans and a
Transformers
T-shirt – was waiting for them.

“You didn't do the proper knock,” the ten-year-old protested, brushing a lock of jet black hair out of his eyes. “It's supposed to be three quick and three slow.”

Robert threw one of his shopping bags into Wei's arms and brushed past. “What are you going to do, vaporize us?”

“Maybe.”

Sarah kicked the door closed behind her and looked at Wei. “No vaporizations.”

Wei smiled sweetly. “Just kidding, Sarah!”

Just kidding
. With the ability to spontaneously create fire with the power of his mind, Sarah knew that Wei was more than able to set the entire apartment ablaze on a whim.

Putting that disturbing thought aside, Sarah passed through the lounge in the direction of the kitchen. A blonde-haired girl a little younger than Wei sat in front of the TV playing an Xbox game. Louise didn't look round as they entered, so intent was she on manoeuvring a car through an exploding building. The only unusual thing about the scene was that she wasn't using the controller – opting instead to play the game using telekinetic power alone. This allowed for incredibly fast reaction times – she always got the high score. Louise blinked and a rival car exploded to make way for hers.

On the sofa, Nestor looked up from a book. “Let me help,” he said, moving his tall frame off the couch. The same age as Sarah, he was a dark-skinned Colombian kid with friendly eyes that put people at ease the minute they met him. When things had been tough over the previous six months, Sarah had often been glad that she had Nestor to back her up.

She gave him the bag of vegetables and looked round the apartment for his twin brother. “Where's Octavio?”

Nestor gave a sigh as they walked into the kitchen and began emptying the bags. “Out on the balcony. Sulking again.”

“Louise?” she asked and Nestor nodded.

Although, at fifteen, Octavio was six years older than Louise, a natural rivalry had grown up between them during the few months they had been together as a group. This was probably the result of the almost identical ability they shared – telekinesis allowed them to move or control objects from a distance with the power of their mind alone. What really rankled Octavio was that a kid almost half his age could equal him in most areas.

“I'll talk to him,” Sarah said. “Put this stuff away, will you?”

She left the kitchen and walked back through the lounge. Wei was now sitting next to Louise, cross-legged on the floor, content to watch her play for hours on end. The two of them were inseparable. Sarah walked past them and slid open the door onto the narrow balcony outside.

Octavio sat slumped in a plastic folding chair at the other end of the balcony. He didn't look round as she closed the door behind her and leaned against the railing. Although they were twins, Octavio's temperament was the complete opposite to Nestor's optimistic openness. His dark hair fell all around his face, completely obscuring his expression, and Sarah knew he would be staring blankly at his feet – mind full of dark, unspoken thoughts that she didn't try to read. Octavio could tell when she was inside his head and it drove him into a temper. Also, she knew it wasn't fair to use her telepathic power on her friends – who wants to be around someone who can read your mind all the time?

“Are you okay?” she said finally, taking a breath of fresh air. At least the balcony was free of the musty smell that infected the entire apartment.

Octavio grunted, bobbing his head fractionally.
He needs a haircut
, she thought.
We all do
. Then she laughed out loud at her maternal concern.

Octavio's head jerked round at the sound. “What?” he asked indignantly.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Just that I'm turning into my mum.”

Octavio sneered. “Some mother. You've brought us to live in a slum.”

Sarah bit her tongue and looked out at the other two towers on the estate. Most of Melbourne's suburbs were made up of single-storey buildings, so the towers stood out like sore fingers. In the nearest one, just a couple of hundred metres away, she could hear music playing in the apartments and the sound of a couple arguing.

“We have our new identities,” she said finally. “We have money. We can get a plane out of here anytime we want.”

“And go where? To live in slums in Europe? How about South America? I hear the
favelas
in Brazil are just great. Or perhaps you'd like to use some of that diamond money to get us somewhere that doesn't smell like a sewer.”

“You know we have to keep out of sight while we're here,” she said. “The fall virus and kids like us are still all over the news. In Europe things can be different. We'll find somewhere far away—”

“I don't want somewhere far away!” Octavio interrupted, voice full of bitterness. “Nestor and I used to be treated like kings at HIDRA! Now look at how we're living!”

Sarah suppressed the urge to remind him of how he'd sided with Colonel Moss – a man who had wanted to turn all of them into slaves. In the final fight against Moss, Octavio had jumped sides, but she was well aware his allegiances were conflicted.

“You were a prisoner at HIDRA,” she said.

Octavio looked away. “You call this being free?”

For a moment Sarah didn't know what to say. She turned back to the door, but paused before going inside again.

“After we leave the country, you can go your own way if you want,” she told him. “If you think you'd be better off with Major Bright, you're free to go and find him. Until then, keep your opinions to yourself. I don't want the younger ones upset.”

With that, she stepped back into the lounge and slid the door shut a little too quickly. It slammed loudly enough to make everyone inside look round.

Louise sighed as she went past. “He's a big baby.”

Sarah gave no response as she walked through to her and Louise's bedroom. It was small and bare apart from a double bed, but less crowded than the room the four boys shared. In the far corner lay an object that looked like an Egyptian sarcophagus except for the fact it was made of smooth, white plastic and had a window in the front. Inside the casket was Sarah and Robert's father, Daniel Williams. He was one of the victims of the fall virus: he'd been on the plane with them when the meteorite hit and, like all adults exposed to the virus, had fallen into a deep coma for which there was no known cure. The casket was the only thing keeping him alive.

As always, Sarah went to the casket first and checked the panel on the side. The computer displays showed he was perfectly healthy, but still deep in a coma – no change. There was never any change. Sarah hated to see him in the machine, but it was better than the thought of him stacked in one of the HIDRA intensive care warehouses where so many thousands of other virus victims were stored. At least here, he was with his family. She sighed and stood up as Nestor appeared in the doorway.

“What about Daniel?” he asked. “If we're really thinking of flying out of Australia, he isn't exactly going to fit in the hand luggage.”

Sarah shook her head. “I'm going to meet Rachel Andersen from HIDRA. Things have changed there. She'll make sure he's looked after when we're gone.” From the bedside table she picked up a red box and placed it under her arm. Inside were blood samples from each of the children – much needed by Rachel and her team of scientists in their efforts to find a cure for the virus.

“I still don't trust her or HIDRA,” Nestor said. “I should come with you.”

“No. I need you here, Nestor. Just in case things kick off between Octavio and Louise again.”

“It's not his fault, really,” Nestor said, defending his brother. “We're all starting to get on each other's nerves. It's like we've been stuck in this place for ever.”

“It's just for a few more days. Europe is going to be a big improvement, I promise.”

Nestor nodded, but there was concern in his eyes. “Are you going to be okay out there?”

Sarah grinned and took a step back. With a moment's concentration she changed in front of his eyes, shielding herself in the image of the giant man again.

“I don't think anyone will mess with me,” she said with a laugh as she walked through to the lounge. The Xbox was turned off and a news programme was playing on the TV now – something about a series of robberies in the city.

“…ongoing incidents of virus-related powers being used in criminal activity,” the TV reporter explained. “This has raised fresh concerns about public safety in the aftermath of last year's meteorite strike…”

A middle-aged politician in a black suit appeared on the screen, surrounded by reporters.

“The fact is,” he said, clearly used to the sound of his own voice, “we have a generation of superhuman delinquents loose in this country. They have been gifted powers that pose a grave threat to private and national security. Who knows how the fall virus has affected their minds or their morality? This is why I am presenting a bill to parliament to give police greater powers to arrest and detain minors suspected of being genetically or mentally…enhanced.”

The camera cut back to a female newsreader. “That was Victorian Senator Anton Grey talking at the site of Monday's bank robbery in which criminals used what police are calling an
invisible mind shield
to disguise their activities. Have you ever wanted to be invisible, Bob?”

“Only when my mother-in-law visits,” the male newsreader to her left replied and they both laughed as an advert came on. Louise blinked once and the TV turned off.

“What do you think?” Robert asked from the kitchen doorway, concern in his voice.

Sarah walked towards the door. “I think the sooner we get out of this country, the better. People are starting to get afraid of people like us. And that's dangerous.”

5

Uncle Pete parked the car directly opposite the entrance to the bank and killed the engine. He looked round at his fifteen-year-old nephew, Alex, and gave him a big, fake smile that revealed two rows of crooked, nicotine-stained teeth.

“Okay, tell me what you're going to do, kid,” he said.

Alex was a thin-faced kid and underneath his T-shirt it was possible to see that his body was just a little too skinny – as if he hadn't eaten a decent meal in a month. Which he hadn't. As Uncle Pete drummed his fingers on the back of his seat impatiently, Alex sighed and went through the routine he'd learned by rote. “I walk in the front entrance of the bank and make sure no one sees me. I smash the fire alarm with the hammer.”

“Where's the hammer?” his uncle demanded. Alex pulled the metal tool, a toy no bigger than his hand, from his jeans pocket and held it up. His uncle nodded. “Go on.”

“I move to the locked door near the tellers and wait for the manager to come out to start clearing the foyer. When he comes out the door, I slip through. By now the tellers will have left their stations, but I wait until the bank is evacuated before opening the drawers. I take the money from the drawers and put them in the bags – only the big bills – twenties and larger.”

“You got the bags?”

Alex raised his jumper to show the wad of canvas bank bags tucked into his belt. His uncle nodded for him to continue.

“In the drawers I leave at least one note at the bottom of every tray,” Alex continued. “I close the drawers after I've emptied them.”

In the passenger seat, Stella, his uncle's girlfriend, frowned as she lit her third cigarette in half an hour. “Why's he got to do that, Pete?”

Alex's uncle snorted as if annoyed by the interruption, but answered anyway. “Because if you empty the trays or leave the drawers open for more than a minute a silent alert is sent to police HQ. A SWAT team would be kicking the door down in less than three minutes.” He tapped his forehead. “Y'see? I've researched this stuff. It's all on Google.”