Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 (51 page)

They’d tried to pick up the gun I zapped, but it was smoking and hot. In the confusion of me getting shot, they’d managed to unwrap and confiscate Jameson’s bola. Alex still had the gun aimed right at me, not that I could do much at this point, anyway. So much for the power of telekinesis, or shooting electricity for that matter.

Mallory pressed her palm against my wound, trying to suppress the flow of blood, but frankly, she was just in the way. I could heal myself, I’d done it before, but I needed to have access to the wound.

“Move aside,” I said, trying to get the words out.

“What?” She lowered her ear to my mouth.

“Get away from me.” When she pulled away from me I saw the hurt in her eyes. She took it as rejection. “Please,” I added.

She obediently scooted back a foot or so, holding her hand, dripping with my blood, away from her body. I placed my fingertips over my shoulder and concentrated on healing the flesh. I felt the bullet fragments gravitate to the surface, very slowly. It hurt, but not too badly. Like pulling off an old Band-Aid.

“You gotta be kidding!” the guy with the Southern accent said, looking over to the side of the road.

Coming out of the shack was their friend with his hands raised, followed by Mr. Specter who was aiming a gun at his back. The guy’s hat was gone, and his bandanna was down around his neck. He looked less intimidating now that he’d lost the accessories. My eye caught another figure trailing behind. Nadia. How did she get there? I sat up in alarm, propping myself up on the side that didn’t hurt, and ignoring the stinging in my shoulder.

“Take the shot,” Southern boy said, directing Alex. “While you have a chance.”

“But that’s not the plan. Besides, Mingo’s right in front of him,” Alex said, gesturing to Mr. Specter’s prisoner.

“We’ve gotta get this under control. Do it.” He illustrated with a shooting gesture.

“I can’t. Mingo’s in the way,” Alex said, sounding frantic.

Southern boy gave him a disgusted look. “Now.”

Alex slowly shook his head. “That’s not the plan.”

“Wimp!” Southern boy grabbed the gun out of Alex’s hand and while I watched horrified, he aimed it at the approaching group. Nadia looked so vulnerable and sweet, walking with her hood up and hands in her pockets. Sweet Nadia, hiding from the world, but totally exposed to danger. I didn’t have time to aim carefully, or control what came out of me. A river of electricity, a veritable spark storm flew out of my hand and traveled straight at the gunman.

Alarmed, Mallory moved away from me, and Jameson, seeing what was happening, jumped back as well, but the gunman’s attention was on Nadia, Mingo, and Mr. Specter. My surge hit him at the same moment he pulled the trigger. The gun went off, the electricity hit with a vengeance and both he and Mingo fell to the ground and died at the same moment.

Nadia

A flash of lightning, a deafening boom, and smoke. After that, a lot of hollering and the reverberation of gunshots. The man Mr. Specter had held at gunpoint dropped to the ground. Within seconds I saw blood on his shirt spreading outwards from a gunshot to his heart. After the ringing in my ears ceased, I heard a shrill screaming. This turned out to be Mrs. Whitehouse, not surprisingly.

We left the dead man right where he’d dropped. Mr. Specter pushed me behind him and charged forward, ready to shoot if necessary, although we soon found out it wouldn’t be necessary. The one remaining bandit was unarmed, and had his arms up in the air, as did Alex. The third bandit was face down on the ground still holding a smoking gun. Not too far away, another gun—blackened, burned, and slightly bent—lay on the ground. Wrecked.

I did a mental inventory of the rest of our group. Kevin, Mrs. Whitehouse, Mallory, and Jameson stood in a cluster opposite Alex and the other bandit. Only Russ was on the ground, and he was wounded. He sat in the dirt, legs extended in front of him, his shirt stained dark red with blood. I rushed to his side and knelt down beside him. In my hurry, my hood had slipped down to my shoulders, but I didn’t bother fixing it.

“You got shot?” I said and then could have bit my tongue for stating the obvious.
Duh, Nadia. So stupid
. But when I rested my hand on his forearm, a surge of emotion came off him; it was so strong it brought tears to my eyes. He was grateful that I was fine, and relieved to have gotten through the ordeal himself. He’d been afraid and now he was embarrassed to have been afraid, even though no one could tell. And the strongest thing I felt was the sensation of being sucked down into a black tidal pool of horror—his horror at having killed another human being. For the first time, I sensed, his abilities brought him shame and revulsion. He wished he could undo it all. Rewind his life and change it so he didn’t go out the night he saw the light particles fall from the sky. He wished he could be a normal teenager again, ignorant of the Associates and the Praetorian Guard, unable to channel electricity and healing. He wanted to wash himself of his abilities. It was too much responsibility. It was overwhelming, in fact. I felt his pain, but I didn’t share his wish. I wouldn’t have undone this experience for anything. It had given me a life.

“Are you okay, son?” Mr. Specter asked.

“It’s not too bad,” Russ said. “Just a flesh wound. I’ll have it fixed in a minute.” He closed his eyes and concentrated on sending energy to the wound. I experienced it secondhand, the way the metal shimmied to the surface leaving behind damaged tissue that didn’t stay damaged for long, because it was healing itself almost instantaneously. I was occupying Russ’s consciousness; I felt his cells divide and multiply. The feeling was indescribable. Nothing short of miraculous.

While Russ concentrated on healing himself, the adults discussed our next plan of action. “What are we supposed to do now?” Mrs. Whitehouse said. “Take them prisoner?” Her hands fluttered anxiously. “Or kill them too?”

“Russ didn’t mean to kill anyone,” Mallory said defensively. “He was protecting me.” Mallory had a habit of changing the details of the story even before it had unfolded. And the details that she changed, I noticed, always made her look good. I didn’t contradict her though; I was still immersed in how Russ was regenerating cells through the warmth and power of his hands.

I only half-listened to what was going on with the rest of the group. I did pick up on the fact that Alex was an Associate who’d somehow convinced the Guard he was on their side. “Et tu, Alex?” is what Mr. Specter said and then something about betrayal. Alex was a plant. A pretender. His name probably wasn’t even Alex. And here Mallory thought he was falling in love with her.

From there the discussion shifted to more immediate concerns. While Kevin and Mrs. Whitehouse nattered away offering lame suggestions, Mr. Specter took charge, having our two prisoners drag the bodies to the shack so that, as he said, “The animals won’t get to them.” He followed behind them, his gun trained on them all the way. Reality was setting in for all of us, the enormity of the fact that death had been so close it could have claimed any of us, if things had gone differently.

The moment between Russ and me ended when Jameson interrupted, offering him a hand up. Russ opened his eyes and upon seeing Jameson’s outstretched hand, said, “I’ve got this, but thanks.” He struggled to his feet and gave his hand a shake. I saw a bloody lump drop to the ground.

“Is that the bullet?” I asked, leaning over to look.

“Yep.” He nudged it with the tip of his shoe. “Funny. It doesn’t look like much. But it could have killed me if it were any closer to my heart.”

When Mr. Specter walked back from the shack, he was alone. “Does everyone have everything they need? Because if so, we’re heading out.” He pointed to the direction of the bus and led the way.

“What about those two men?” Mrs. Whitehouse asked, trotting along beside him. “What’s going to happen to them?”

“If they’re good at following directions they’ll count to one hundred and then call for someone to pick them up,” Mr. Specter said. “Or who knows, maybe their ride is already on the way. The Associates have eyes everywhere.” He stopped in front of the bus door and ushered us inside. I noticed he still had the gun in his hand, although now he held it loosely at his side.

Kevin Adams corralled Russ, wanting to know more about his powers. “When you zapped that guy it was unbelievable! I mean, I see that kind of thing in comic books all the time, but seeing it in person was wild.” Kevin smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Dude, how does it feel to be able to do that?”

Russ said, “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stop him.” He trudged up the steps of the bus like a man full of regret.

Jameson had a hand on Mallory’s back as he followed her up the stairs. With Alex out of the picture he probably thought he had a shot. He did not.

“Still,” Kevin’s voice floated down from inside the bus. “How cool was that?! And it was totally self-defense so don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not like you had a choice.”

I waited for Mrs. Whitehouse to go, so I’d be the last one to board. I had a question that needed to be asked. “Mr. Specter?”

“Yes?”

“I saw that guy shoot you.” I gave him a questioning look.

He grinned. “You’re wondering why I wasn’t wounded?”

I nodded.

“I didn’t get off completely scot-free,” he said. “The bullet didn’t penetrate, but I think the impact cracked a rib. When I breathe I’m in a lot of pain.”

“But how…?”

“Just between you and I,” he leaned in, “all my sweater vests are lined with Kevlar.”

“Really.”

I must have had a puzzled look on my face because he added, “It’s a bullet proof material.”

“I know what Kevlar is,” I said.

“Better safe than sorry, I always say.” He smiled. “We’re burning daylight, Nadia. Time to get on the bus and hit the road.”

Russ

Before we left, Mr. Specter used a remote-control-sized device to sweep the bus. He found two bugs, one taped underneath a seat, the other stuck under the dashboard. He showed them to us so we’d know what they looked like for future reference. Each one was a metallic square the size of a quarter, topped with a miniature antenna. After Mr. Specter tossed them out the door, Kevin started up the bus. The plan was for Kevin to drive, while Mr. Specter sat close by, directing him using a handheld GPS.

I sat in the row behind Kevin, and because I wanted to have a seat to myself, I stretched out to fill the space. I didn’t want to talk to anyone or even be near anyone. I’d just murdered a man and I felt lower than I’d ever felt before. That man was someone’s son, maybe someone’s brother or boyfriend. I knew that Kevin was right, that I’d been protecting Nadia and Mr. Specter. That I’d been forced into doing it. I didn’t set out to cause anyone harm. But knowing that didn’t help. I still felt terrible.

Nadia, her hood resting on her shoulders, sat across the aisle from me, behind Mr. Specter. I knew she was watching me, worried, and I knew I should probably tell her that I was fine, but I couldn’t do that. I didn’t have the energy to pretend everything was okay. Behind us I heard Mallory and Jameson talking. When I glanced back I saw their heads tilted together, almost touching. They were looking at something on a screen; I heard music.

I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes. It occurred to me that if the Associates were still after us, I’d be an easy target with my head so visible. But honestly? They could get me anywhere I went. They had access to every type of weapon and every sort of vehicle. If they’d wanted me dead, I’d already be dead and there was nothing I could do about it. It was a terrifying thought. The only thing that made me feel better was that I was worth more to them alive than dead at this point.

Mr. Specter was in serious-mode too. Besides giving Kevin directions, he didn’t say much. We drove in silence for a long time, the daylight softening and fading until Kevin had to switch on the headlights. Finally Kevin asked Mr. Specter, “Are you ever going to tell me what they wanted back there?” Even though he wasn’t talking to me, he now had my full attention. I opened my eyes and sat up to hear the answer.

“What they wanted? They wanted me dead.” Mr. Specter sighed. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Dude, why would they want you dead?” Kevin glanced over, an incredulous look on his face. “You’ve got no powers anymore. You’re a high school teacher from Wisconsin, for crying out loud.”

Mr. Specter took off his glasses and massaged his temples. “Not just a high school teacher. I’ve been doing some side work. Projects I’ve been keeping to myself. I thought it was off their radar, but apparently not. My guess is that they aren’t pleased with what I’ve been doing.”

“So they have a hit out on you? That’s heavy.” Kevin whistled as if impressed. “Jeez, what are you gonna do?”

“Die, of course,” Mr. Specter said. “What other choice do I have?”

I felt a weight drop to the pit of my stomach and I sucked in my breath. He said it so matter-of-factly that he could have been talking about planning a picnic, or making a doctor’s appointment. How could he be so calm?

Kevin tapped the steering wheel with his fingertips. In the rearview mirror, I saw his forehead furrow as he thought about the question. Finally, he said, “That really sucks. I mean it. I’m going to miss you, Sam. I really am. No lie.”

“Thanks.” Mr. Specter stretched his legs out into the aisle. “I hate to have it come to this, but I’ve had a good run. More time than some have had, that’s for sure.”

Nadia gave me a wide-eyed stare.
Can you believe this
? Neither of us spoke. We were shocked into silence. Kevin and Mr. Specter weren’t talking to us, but they weren’t keeping their voices down either. They had to know we could hear what they were saying.

“How much time do you have left, do you think?” Kevin turned the wheel sharply as the highway veered to the left. The surface of the road was uneven and his driving rough; we’d been jostled periodically ever since he took the wheel.