Matt Archer: Redemption (6 page)

What would Mike say? How would he handle being part of the wielder team again after so long? How could I take Baby Kate’s father away from her—again?

* * *

The military had cleared the streets around the Rayburn building and the National Guard was in full force, evacuating survivors, helping the injured, and keeping the press as far away as possible. Still, news helicopters circled overhead once more now that the skies were safe.

Someone had removed the Freak’s body from the front steps with a crane, even though the doors were still mangled. As we picked our way around the debris, I saw the remains of my suit jacket buried in some rubble.

I glanced at myself in a bit of unbroken glass at the entrance. I had smears of dark green Freakasuarus blood all over my face and arms, my T-shirt and pants were shredded in more than one place, and I had a ton of bleeding scratches showing through the torn fabric.

My shoes, for whatever perverse reason, were merely scuffed. Figured.

“Before I go to my family, do you think I could change?” I asked Murphy. “I look like crap and my mom’s probably already about to have a nervous breakdown. She shouldn’t see me like this.”

“Yeah.” Will’s T-shirt was ripped through at the bottom and he tried to tug the pieces together without success. “I can’t go brief Congress with my abs hanging out.”

“Hey,” I said, suddenly punch-drunk. “A few of those Congresswomen might not mind so much.”

“They better mind,” Ramirez growled. “He’s jail bait, and so are you.”

I knew our joking around wasn’t why he was so mad—he was angry that we were here, in this position, and that it had gotten one of our own killed. Easier to bark about something less serious than face all that, though.

“The command team is around the corner,” Murphy said. “They might have something for you.”

We went inside and turned into the first conference room. Uncle Mike, Aunt Julie, General Richardson and a small staff—including Davis, our best communications expert—had moved in here from the mobile unit. Davis had rigged up a command center complete with laptops and live news feeds, and phones were in every hand. As soon as we came in, Uncle Mike dropped his phone, crossed the room in two steps and engulfed me in a hug.

“What a mess,” he said, stepping back to check me out at arms’ length. “You’re in one piece. Thank God.”

“Not all of us,” I said, as the reality of Parker’s death swept over me. I clenched my fists tight to keep the sadness at his loss from taking over before my day was done. “Parker was killed.”

The room went utterly silent except for the CNN news feed playing quietly on a monitor in the corner.

“How?” the general asked.

Ramirez was the one to give the report, and he made it all the way through without showing a shred of emotion. I don’t know how, but he did.

The general swore and stomped over to a table to pick up the receiver on an old fashioned red phone. “Get me the President,” he barked. “I want him to know exactly what happened here, and why Congressman Patrick deserves to be censured on the House floor.”

While he was chewing out some White House aide, Julie and Davis came over. Davis’s limp was less pronounced now that some time had passed since his injury, but it was still obvious that something wasn’t quite right. At one time, I’d blamed myself for the injury that cost him his foot. Now, I blamed a woman sitting in a dark cell somewhere in an undisclosed CIA location.

Nocturna Maura had done this. Five witches had sacrificed themselves and an innocent little girl to bring this horror down on us. And they’d done it at the command of their leader, Ann Smythe. I’d go see her soon, and take Jorge and Mamie with me. If anyone could make her talk, it was my sister.

“Mamie,” I blurted out at the thought of her. “She’s missing.”

“We know. Johnson’s searching for her.” Julie shook her head. “We have no idea how she got out. Brent’s been going crazy in the bunker, according to the guards, telling everyone it’ll be his fault if she gets hurt. He’s tried to escape twice, and it took four men to restrain him.”

“I need to go over there. Anybody have a spare jacket I can throw over this mess?” I asked.

Davis held up two duffels. “I thought if trouble came up, you’d want BDUs. I’m sorry I didn’t find you before everything hit the fan.”

“If I weren’t so disgusting and it wasn’t a little weird, I’d give you a man-hug right here,” I said, taking my duffel. When I peeked inside, I was impressed to see not only my BDUs, but boots and a standard hygiene kit. “You’re prepared for everything.”

He gave me a pleased smile. “I’m going to remember you said that, what with all the grief you gave me for staying presentable in the field.”

“Davis, you
iron
your BDUs! But I swear on my knife that I’ll never razz you about that again.”

Will and I ducked into the men’s room down the hall to change. Mercifully, it hadn’t been damaged and the water still worked. The only thing that could’ve been better was a hot shower, but a good cleanup at the sink and a change of clothes made a world of difference.

No longer looking like walking death, I followed Uncle Mike and the general down to the bunker. On the way, I pulled Mike aside at Parker’s knife-spirit’s urging.

“I need to talk to you. Soon.”

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Um, we have a slight issue. See, the—”

“Wait? Is that Brent?” Will asked.

We stopped in the hall, and I could hear my brother raging from twenty yards away. Through a thick metal door.

“Let me out! The danger’s over—the news said so! I have to go look for her!” There was the sound of a scuffle. “Goddamn it, let me out!”

“Ever consider asking that young man to enlist?” General Richardson asked Mike. “Because he has the right kind of temperament.”

“What, a total badass when it means defending someone?” I muttered to Will.

“Maybe just a total badass in general,” he answered. “With an emphasis on the ‘ass’ part.”

The general banged on the door and the bunker went quiet. “This is General Richardson. Threat’s contained. Open up.”

As soon as the door swung open, Brent came plowing over the MPs to skid into the hall. He stopped short when he saw us. “Mamie’s gone! We have to—”

I held up a hand. “I know—I saw her. We have a team searching for her.”

“
Saw
her? Why the hell didn’t you bring her back?” he snapped.

“I’ll let her explain that once we find her, because there’s no way I’ll do it justice,” I said. “Where’s Mom?”

One of the MPs standing behind Brent snapped to attention, “Mr. Archer, sir. She’s at the back of the bunker, sir.”

I glanced at Uncle Mike. He shrugged. “They saw the whole thing on TV. I think you’ve been promoted.”

“Uh, okay.” I nodded to the MP. “Can you take me to her?”

He spun on his heel and led me inside. The bunker was a square room with cinderblock walls painted a dull gray. Chairs and round tables were scattered throughout and a pair of restrooms were in the back. It wasn’t the type of place you’d wait out a nuclear strike, but definitely someplace to hold people for a while when security was iffy.

Mom was standing with Congressman Tarantino in front of a bank of monitors. One was CNN, another was a local news channel, and the third was MSNBC.

The local news channel was playing one particular scene over and over.

“‘What’s your name?’” a terrified voice asked.

And there I was. Crazy-eyed and wild, walking up to the camera.

“Oh, God,” I said. “If my cover wasn’t blown before... ”

Right as I said it, CNN switched the picture to a street fight—Will and I taking down a Freak while herding civilians to the Library of Congress.

“It is now,” Mom said quietly. She turned to face me, her expression a mix of fear and amazement. “How did I not know what this really meant? I mean, I knew what you were doing, in theory. But this? There’s a rumor that one of you can fly! Can you fly, Matt?”

The hysterical edge to her voice told me to tread carefully. “Uh.... ”

“Did anyone get that on camera?” Ramirez asked.

“No, no pictures of a flying wielder. It’s only speculation for now, although we might have a leak with the team out there,” Tarantino said. “Reporters are trying to interview every spare man on the street.”

“Better a rumor than proof,” Ramirez said, raising an eyebrow at me.

I cringed. “True story. So, anybody heard from Penn or Ella?”

“They’re missing, too?” Mom cried. “What were they even doing out there?”

“That’s another long story.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I’m badgering you with questions after you’ve been running all over the Mall, saving people.” She came to give me a long hug, and I was struck by how
small
she seemed. She wasn’t—in reality, she was five-eight—but today I’d grown in her eyes. Now she saw me as a man, not a child, and I felt older than seventeen staring down at the top of her head.

“It’s okay, Mom.” I patted her back and let her go. “Everything will be okay now.”

“No,” she whispered. “It won’t.”

I had nothing to say to that. Her world had been rocked the last few years, and today only put a fine, sharp point on it. I glanced over at Uncle Mike and jerked my head. He got the hint and came over to put an arm around her.

“I know today has been incredibly hard, but Dani, if you take a moment to marvel at what you and Erik created, it might make this a little easier. Your kids are truly exceptional.”

Hearing Uncle Mike call me exceptional had the same effect as his compliments always did—it made me want to live up to it.

Mom managed a small smile. “Yes, they are exceptional. I just don’t want to lose them.”

“And we’ll do everything we can to prevent that. Matt has support at all times. Men will die to protect him. You need to understand that.”

What he wasn’t telling her was that men had
already
died for me.

Waves of regret, something I frequently battled after a fight, especially when we lost a man, threatened to drown me. “I need to find Ella. May I be dismissed, Colonel?”

“Spare us a moment, Archer,” the general boomed. “Congressman Patrick here wants to speak to the wielders.”

Sighing, I went to join the team. The five of us made a rough-looking crowd and Patrick seemed to realize that. He turned wide-eyes on us. “Whatever you need.
Whatever
you need—or want—you’ll have it. I might not be chair of the Armed Services committee much longer, but while I am, you’ll be outfitted with everything you ask for. No more running quiet or light. You want an Abrams, I’ll airdrop one into the middle of the Sahara desert.”

I briefly thought about saying too little, too late, but we had a long way to go and we needed the help. “I’d settle for a hot shower and a meal at the moment, sir. But first, I’d like permission to go outside and search for my girlfriend.”

“Me, too,” Will said. “On all counts.”

Patrick pulled out a cell phone. “Karen? Rent out a floor at the Ritz Carlton hotel … Yes, a whole floor. And talk to catering. Tell them all meals on me for the next twenty-four hours …. That’s what I said, Karen. You have two hours to make this happen.” He hung up and said, “Shower and meal taken care of. Now go find your girls.”

Chapter Seven

Will and I jogged out into the sunshine. Sirens screamed in the distance, and emergency personnel lined the streets. Everywhere I turned,
everywhere,
they were assisting an injured person, or retrieving a body.

“God. So many,” I said. “Will, there are probably hundreds dead out here.”

His face had a grim cast. “Do you feel like punching a brick wall? Because I do.”

“Not yet.” I wiped sweat off my forehead. The day was heating up fast, and that spelled bad news for the recovery effort. “But I’ll probably come unglued once we know the girls are safe and in one piece.”

We started down the block toward the alley where Ella and Penn had hidden. Whenever we passed someone else, they paused to stare. Some, mostly National Guard, gave us solemn, respectful nods or a quick thumbs up. Others just gaped. One woman, probably in shock, scrambled away from us, crying.

The Capital area looked like something out of post-apocalyptic novel. Big chunks of the rotunda had been ripped free, scorch marks from rockets blackened buildings, and so many windows had been broken, glass crunched under our boots nearly every step. Sure, we’d taken out the Freaks, but not before they’d killed more than ten of us for every one of them and destroyed some of our most important monuments.

It took ten minutes to go two blocks, partly because of the debris, but partly because we were stopped every twenty feet for pats on the back. It was weird, and I wasn’t sure I liked the attention.

“Everyone knows who we are now,” Will muttered. “And it’s not only us. It’s the whole team. It’s Penn and Ella. Mamie. Probably even our parents.”

“It’ll be a circus when the situation calms down,” I said, scanning the sidewalks in case the girls were coming back on foot. “I hate the idea, but we’ll have to deal with it best we can.”

We reached the alley. It was blocked by chunks of concrete and a twisted metal lump that could’ve been a car once. None of that had been here when we sent the girls to hide on the fire escape.

“Where are they?” Will breathed, sounding a little panicked.

I peered down the alley and saw what had him so jumpy. The fire escape had been ripped off the wall. “Ella! Penn! Where are you?”

No answer.

“It’s okay,” Will said. “It’s okay, they aren’t there. They left before this happened.”

“Yeah,” I said, wishing I could believe him. “But we’re going to dig for a while anyway, right?”

“Right.”

We crossed the street and made for the demolished car. It blocked two-thirds of the entrance, and the alley dead-ended at the back. Our only way in would be by lifting out the other rubble one piece at a time.

Neither of us said a word while we hauled broken concrete away. We worked methodically, occasionally calling out for the girls. Nobody ever answered.