Outcasts (29 page)

“Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it is. I’m not sure. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

“And go downtown?”

“And go downtown.”

“And shoot everyone?” she asked hopefully.

“And hug everyone.”

“You’re an idiot.”

We had eaten dinner on her lawn again, and slept in her living room again, and now I was awake at four in the morning on the floor, so acutely uncomfortable and worried that I couldn’t sleep. I quietly checked my phone. For the thousandth time. No news from Katie. My heart sank. I hadn’t heard from her in over thirty hours. An awful dread constricted my chest. I messaged PuckDaddy.

Puck, Katie STILL hasn’t texted me.

>> yeah her phones off

>> captain FBI is out there now with the coast guard

>> near the rendezvous, 5 miles off shore

>> probably just no phone charger on his coast guard cutter

Katie should be at a safe house by now, Puck.

>> it took isaac longer than he thought it would

>> president issued warrant 4 his arrest so…

>> that changed things

The President wants Isaac ARRESTED??!

>> well…kinda its weird

>> puck is following events as much as possible

>> reading between the lines

>> america is so fractured

>> so many chains of command so much distrust

>> half loyal to president

>> half aren’t

>> skirmishes everywhere

>> so president issued warrant 4 his arrest

>> probably cause blue eyes made him

>> but who is gonna cuff isaac out here?? nobody

>> he’s a hero

>> and now kind of an outcast

>> like u

What a mess. I thumbed through some news on my phone. Mounting disaster all over the globe. And now Special Agent Isaac Anderson was a wanted man. He’d known this was coming. Anticipated it. Planned for it. Make arrangements with powerful and sympathetic allies. But still.

I thumbed through Katie’s Instagram, hoping to see new photos. PuckDaddy texted me again.

>> hey

>> wake up samantha 4 me

Why?

>> Carter wants her help

I pushed Samantha’s shoulder with my finger. Her eyes snapped open, instantly alert.

“What?”

“Puck wants you,” I whispered.

“No. Tell him No.”

She says No.

>> ugh

Samantha’s phone buzzed. And buzzed again. And again. And again.

She snatched it and hissed into the receiver, “OhMyGosh, what the heeeeeeellll, Puck.” She listened, staring at the overhead ceiling fan thoughtfully. Then, “I don’t have the right gun.” Puck’s voice buzzed softly in the quiet room but I couldn’t interpret meaning. “Okay. I’m on my way.” She hung up.

I asked, “What’s going on?” Samantha stood up and stretched. “And holy moly, put your pants on.”

She shrugged. “It got hot last night.”

“Miss Pauline would
kill
you if she saw this.”

“Do you like my blue superman underpants?” She slapped herself on her rump and twisted in a circle. “Your dad does.”

“That’s…no…that’s not funny. I hate you so much. Put your pants on this instant.”

She did, hopping silently on one foot, shoving the other into a pant leg. “The Chemist is downtown. NSA got visual confirmation. Carter is going in.”

I stood up too, joints creaking. Oooouch. Stupid floor. “What’s that mean? How?”

“Puck tracked the Chemist to LA, so Carter came back. The NSA showed Carter the photo. The Chemist is on top of a tower near the residential building where they all sleep.”

“Doing what?” I pulled my shoes on and packed my backpack.

“Dunno. Carter and Russia are trying a quick sneak attack. If I get there in time, I’ll provide long-range support.” She eyed my reaction. But I truly didn’t know what to think. Getting rid of the Chemist was paramount. However, this didn’t seem like a good idea. Violence just created more violence.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.”

I wrote Miss Pauline a quick note.

Thank you. For so much. You’ve changed everything.

-Chase

“Carter’s en route,” Puck told us through our ear pieces. Samantha and I
Moved
north on Alameda through Huntington Park, easily outpacing the early morning traffic. “You won’t make it in time.”

“I might get in range and get a shot off!”

This was happening too abruptly. We had no plan, just praying we could outfight him. And we couldn’t. But Carter was going to try with or without our assistance. And Samantha was going to assist with or without my help.

“You don’t have a rifle,” I pointed out.

“Puck says there’s an enemy barracks just inside the border. On Newton.” She ran effortlessly, long strides eating up the road like a leopard. To anyone standing still on the sidewalk, we looked like Olympic sprinters setting new land speed records. “I can find what I need there.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe.”

In the distance, almost like a memory, we heard helicopter blades pounding the air. Gotta move faster. We went over the military’s Downtown barricade as though riding the crest of a wave. She couldn’t
Leap
as far as I could, but the parabola of her flight cleared the machine gun nets comfortably.

We found the barracks via olfactory methods; the disease simmering in the Chosen’s collective flesh and their combined body odor called like a siren. The door shattered as I went through, an explosion of glass splinters.

“Carter’s at the tower.” PuckDaddy’s alert piped directly into our ear canals.

“Too soon! I’m not in position!”

Samantha and I ransacked befouled apartments, flinging open bedroom doors, bathroom doors, closets, custodian supply cabinets. “I’m not finding anything!” she cried.

The barrack’s sleepy denizens woke and irritably inspected the source of their disturbance. A lot of them. Samantha needed a diversion to buy her more time. I halted my search, standing ankle deep in hallway refuse, and tied on the new red mask.

Natalie North was right. The Outlaw wore a mask.

I pulled the Thunder Stick free from my vest and began spinning it from hand to hand. Just in case Miss Pauline’s methodologies didn’t work. “Free hugs!” I roared, and I crushed a wall with the stick like playing a drum. “Come out, come out where ever you are! Meet the Outlaw and get a free hug!”

“This…” Puck commented. “…this seems unwise.”

I felt concussive throbs in my feet and in my ears. Detonations.

“Be advised, Carter’s on top of Wilshire Tower! So is Shadow. Hunting the Chemist. Russia’s in the chopper, absolutely laying waste with his rockets!” Puck sounded frantic with hope and energy.

“Got it! Found a rifle!” Samantha called. “Keep’em busy, Outlaw, I’m heading to the roof!”

I strolled into the street, abandoning the apartment building. A heaving mass of bodies followed. Chosen. Of all shapes and sizes. Some of the group appeared to be in complete possession of themselves. Some appeared no more stable than angry wolves. I spotted three electroshock rods. The rest brandished steel claws. Claws everywhere.

They hated me. Rabidly. But it was a fearful hatred. A respectful hatred. And maybe something else too. Far too many emotions for me to categorize. They formed a complete circle around me, hounds baying. Dozens. I kept turning in circles, twisting to glare and impart my will against them. I pointed a finger and they winced, ducking their heads.

“Go back to bed and you won’t be harmed,” I said. “Or. Put down your claws. And get a free hug.”

They raged.

“I’m on the roof,” Samantha said. “And Miss Pauline is going to get you killed.”

Puck shouted, hurting my ear. “Carter found Martin! Carter found the Chemist! They’re jumping all over the tower! Holy craaaaaap!”

“I’m too far! Over a mile away!” Samantha cried. “Outlaw, I’m heading deeper downtown!”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll keep these stinkers company.”

“No! There’s too many! Get out of there!”

As if on cue, they rushed me. Claws slashing. Teeth bared. The Leapers launched themselves, death from above. I blocked backwards, parrying aside steel talons, crushing hands. In frenzy, their claws sank into each other, lethal backswings. Blood flew in ribbons.

I didn’t counterattack. I didn’t ruin their skulls. Instead I played defense, using my superior quickness. Mistake. The Leapers landed on me. Steel sank into my shoulders. Into my ribs.

Pain and numbness alternated through layers of muscle. Metal within my body, alien, out of place. Blood gushed. Samantha was right. Too many.

“Get BACK!” I roared. Involuntarily, obeying some primal instinct, obeying the law of the jungle, the Chosen rocked backwards on their heels like one big animal flinching in fear. Just enough space.

I
Leapt
from the mountain of my enemies, landing beyond them. Blood issued from underneath the vest, absorbing into my pants and trickling down my arm. I’d grown arrogant. Foolish. Believed myself impervious.

How did Miss Pauline DO this??! Okay. So no hugs today.

The wounds were deep. My pulse throbbed in their depths, each palpitation like touching a live wire. The sight of blood invigorated them.

“That was stupid.” Half wheeze, half groan. I fled.

My left arm felt strange, hollow, as though operating on reduced power. I went onto the roof, a desperation
Jump
, and scanned for Samantha. No sign. The vast Los Angeles horizon laid out like an endless commercial maze. Chaos at the peaks but I hurt too much to see that far. My shoulder and ribs drummed with pain. Pain that reached my ears. Pain so loud I didn’t immediately register what I was hearing.

Madness. A scramble of voices. Screaming.

“What’s going on?” I shouted.

“Helicopter crash landing!”

“Outlaw move your ass!” Samantha sounded like she was sprinting. And cursing. A lot. “They’ll swarm Carter’s chopper!”

“Where?!”

“North! Follow the smoke!”

“It’s too dark to see smoke!” But I saw the glow. I went north. Each jump was murder. A drumbeat of red agony. “What happened?”

“Shadow is dead.”

“No! How?”

Puck answered, “Carter is wounded and he retreated to the helicopter. The Chemist caught Shadow and…”

“And what?”

He took a full and shaky breath. “The Chemist threw Shadow into the helicopter blades. Cut him to ribbons. And now Russia is trying to land in one piece.”

I woke up early. Barely light out.

Katie was staring off into the distance, already awake. She couldn’t fall asleep last night either. Too stressed about the boyfriend. Her phone was dead and she couldn’t charge it without going into a public place, and that risked exposure. So we spent yesterday scavenging for food and hiding from sight. She kept crying about her friend, the football player who died in the water. She hadn’t told Chase yet. Being out of contact with him (and someone called Puck) caused her no end of anxiety.

Always thought she was cute when anxious.

But not when it was about Chase Jackson. The wimp. The tiny little dork, unworthy of such a woman.

Later today I’d be healthy enough to venture out. Both of us had well-known faces, and both of us were wanted by powerful parties. Had to be cautious. We’d find a phone and call my parents. They’d wire me funds, and put us in a hotel until she made further arrangements. Or. Until she decided to stay with me.

Although I had no idea what my future held.

Explosions. To the north and west. Downtown. That’s what woke her. And me.

“Hear that?” she asked.

“Yeah. Think it’s the Outlaw?”

“I hope not.” She closed her eyes and took several steadying breaths. Her knees were pulled close to her chest, sitting on the sand near the public picnic shelter and facilities. “We used to live in a world without the constant threat of eruptions.”

“It’s your boyfriend’s fault.”

“It is
not
,” she snapped. “He’s on the side of peace.”

“Peace don’t wear a mask.”

“Some masks are shields, Tank. Protection for other people. Chase didn’t cause this. Chase was caught up in this hellish hurricane just like the rest of us.”

“He
is
the hellish hurricane, babe.”

“Wrong! He’s our best hope out of it.”

I held up my hand, calling for silence. She glared and puffed up her chest in affront. But I’d heard a noise. There was a partial moon and the earliest indications of morning. Enough light to see by. We weren’t alone. Shadows moved silently around us. Ghosts gliding across benches and over the sand. Maybe a dozen. Katie saw them too and gasped. Intruders.

I got to my feet, rage building like a stove. I wasn’t strong enough for this yet. Not enough food. Been hungry forever. My fists clenched so violently my knuckles cracked. Katie remained seated.

A man approached. A black man. With cornrows and a foul stench. We glared at each other. “You know me?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” I said.

“I’m here for the girl. You get to live.”

“Can’t have her.”

“One way or the other, yes I can.”

“You’ll have to kill me,” I growled. I wanted to break him. And then do it again.

“Don’t want to. But I will.”

“You’ll try.”

He chuckled in the dark. I could sense him more than I could the others. He was the strongest. The most dangerous. “You stronger than me, Tank. I hate it. But there it is.”

“Damn right I am.”

“But you know what I got?” He held out his hands. Several of his gang ignited handheld rods, which sparked and crackled with waves of blue. The electricity was audible.

I hate electricity. So much. Been shocked one too many times. I fought away the fear.

I said, “Gonna need more than that.”

He smiled, a flash of white teeth. “Throw all the shade you want. But we don’t gotta do this. You don’t gotta die. The Father won’t hurt her.”

Katie spoke out of her anger. “That’s what Kid said too.”

“Kid stupid, but he wasn’t lying.”

“I know you,” she said. “I saw you fight the Outlaw. And you lost.”