The Awakening (10 page)

19

H
IDING IN THE SHADOWS ON A GANTRY
high above the mine’s entrance cavern, Renata Soliz watched as the huge steel doors rolled shut.

She sighed. She’d been hoping for an opportunity to make a run for it, but the entrance was continually swarming with armed soldiers.

The two large cars that the soldiers had recently escorted in now came to a stop. The door of one of them opened and an unconscious, handcuffed teenage boy was pulled out, lowered onto a stretcher and carried down a side corridor.

Renata thought that there was something familiar about the boy, but she couldn’t place it.
Besides,
she reminded herself,
if it’s true that ten years have passed, then there’s no way I’d know him.

She was now convinced that the newspaper hadn’t been a fake; she’d found other newspapers, diaries, calendars, even coins. They all confirmed that she’d been gone for ten years.

The newspaper articles also made it clear that all of the superhumans had disappeared during the battle with Ragnarök. What didn’t make sense was the fact that in the newspapers Max Dalton denied that The High Command had been involved in the battle.

Renata knew they
had
been there, but somehow they were still around.

Maybe
I
didn’t disappear because I was solid. Maybe whatever it was that affected the others couldn’t affect me in the same way; it just put me in some sort of stasis. So what woke me up?

The doors to the second car were opened and a middle-aged couple—also handcuffed—were taken out.

Renata gasped silently when she suddenly recognized the woman.

Oh my God! It’s
Energy!
She’s alive! And that must be Titan…

She’d never seen Titan without his mask, but this man was very much like him. The same build, the same hair color—though now it was graying at the temples and receding a little.

As she watched, Titan and Energy were escorted down the same corridor.

So why don’t they
do
something?
Renata wondered.
Why don’t they just break the handcuffs and escape?

She looked around the rest of the cavern; there was no one about.

Moving as quietly as she could, Renata made her way to the nearest stairway, ran down the stairs two at a time and dashed toward the corridor.

The ability to transform herself into a solid, unmoving object was great for defense, but not much good for attack.

Well, there’s
one
way to do it.

Ahead of her, three soldiers were directly behind Energy and Titan.

Renata ran as fast as she could and leaped forward, changing to solid form in midair.

She slammed into the nearest soldier, knocking him to the ground.

The other two spun toward her, raising their weapons. Renata switched back to human form, lifted up the fallen soldier and held him in front of her as a shield.

“Shoot—and you’ll kill your own man!”

One of the soldiers grabbed Titan and pushed the barrel of his gun into his chest. “Let him go, girl, or this man dies. You have three seconds. One.”

“Titan!” Renata shouted. “
Do
something!”

“I can’t,” Titan said.

“Two.”

“Our powers are gone,” Energy said.

“Thr—”

Renata threw the soldier to the ground and stepped back.

The one who had his gun in Titan’s chest unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt. “Get Cross down here. We have a situation. Another superhuman.”

20

L
YING IN HIS BUNK
, C
OLIN COULD HEAR
Trish in her office downstairs, talking on the phone to a colleague in Virginia.

It was ten o’clock in the evening. Colin’s enhanced hearing had returned shortly after the incident with Razor and his gang in the kitchen. Since then, it had been coming and going seemingly at random, though it was working more often than not.

Colin could hear almost everything around him, and he was learning how to focus on specific sounds. That was how he could hear not only Trish on the phone, but also her colleague, a man called Jonathan who had a whiny, nasal voice.

Trish read out Solomon Cord’s details—including his address—to Jonathan. “The kid seems genuine,” Trish said. “I don’t think he’s making it up.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirteen, he says. Looks it too. One of our guys picked him up at a mall a few miles from the airport. The thing is, I checked with the airport and there’s been no report of anyone missing.”

“All right…Have you checked with the police?”

“No. He was pretty insistent about that.”

“Trish, he’s only thirteen! If he says he was kidnapped then that’s just cause for breaking the confidentiality rule! You’re supposed to report it!”

“I know…but I thought I’d give him a couple of days.”

“Yeah? And suppose his folks come looking for him and they find out that he’s been in your care and you didn’t report it? They’ll sue your ass off.”

“I know, but…”

Jonathan interrupted her. “Trish, the last thing your shelter needs is more bad publicity. I’m telling you to follow procedure on this one. Phone the cops and Welfare. If you don’t do it, I’ll have to go over your head. You don’t want that, do you?”

Trish sighed. “No. No, I don’t.” She said good-bye and hung up. There was a long pause, then she picked up the phone again.

After a dozen rings, a voice on the other end said, “Jacksonville PD, front desk.”

“Yeah, hi. This is Trish Jamison over at the mission shelter. I need to speak to someone about a kid we brought in today.”

Colin decided he’d heard enough. He rolled off the bunk and landed silently on the floor, pulled on his clothes and sneakers and left the room.

He could hear Nick downstairs in the TV room chatting with a group of other boys and a few other quiet conversations in other parts of the shelter.

There was no one in the hallway downstairs.

He quickly considered his options. He could stay, and hope that Façade didn’t have anyone working in the local police force, or he could run, but that didn’t seem like the wisest option. He still had the ten dollars that Marie had given him at the airport, but apart from that, he was no better off than he had been earlier.

No, that’s wrong,
he thought.
Now I know Solomon Cord’s address.

Colin went downstairs, ducked past the partly open doorway to Trish’s office and into the kitchen.

He found an old canvas shopping bag and filled it with as much food as he could find, telling himself that it wasn’t really stealing, because when all this was over, he’d pay them back.

Then he heard a car engine coming to a halt outside the building. Two men were in the car, one of them on a cell phone.

“Yes, sir,” the man with the phone said. “We’re here. How old is the boy?”

“About thirteen,” said a man’s voice on the other end of the call.

“Got that.”

“Move fast. The real cops are already on the way over. You’ve got ten minutes, tops. Don’t screw this up. Any means necessary, understood?”

“Understood, sir.” There was a faint beep as the man disconnected the call. To his passenger, he said. “Let’s move. Boy’s name is Colin Wagner, age thirteen…”

Then Colin’s hearing returned to normal and all he could hear was his own panicky breathing.

Colin frantically looked around the kitchen: there were heavy bars on the windows and no other door. There was no way out.

Unless…

Colin grabbed his bag and walked out into the hall. He quietly opened the front door, just as two large, well-dressed men were coming up the steps.

Colin held the door open for them. “Thanks,” one of the men said.

“No problem,” Colin replied.

He stepped out and closed the door after him, walked quietly and calmly down the steps, then turned right and ran.

Colin didn’t even know which direction he should be heading.

Earlier, he’d studied a map of the southeastern United States that Trish had given him. Between Jacksonville in Florida and Richmond in Virginia there were dozens of other cities. Colin knew that he had to go north, but which way
was
north?

When he neared the end of the block, he stopped running and ducked into a quiet shop doorway.

OK,
he said to himself.
Think! Back at the shelter, at four in the afternoon, the sunlight had been coming in directly through the large window at the end of the corridor. The window was at the back of the building. This meant that the back of the building faces west and the front faces east. So I left through the front door and turned right, going south.

I’m going in the wrong direction.

He didn’t want to risk going past the front door again, so he decided to go around the block instead. He turned right at the next corner, darted quickly down an unsettlingly dark and quiet narrow street and turned right again.

And found himself facing a gang of teenagers who were gathered around a large, battered car. There were about ten of them, all in their late teens.

One of the teenagers stepped out to block Colin’s path. “Well, look who it ain’t!” Colin recognized him as one of Razor’s gang from the shelter.

The other teenagers surrounded Colin. “
That’s
him?” one of them said, his rough voice filled with disbelief. “
That’s
the kid who nearly broke Razor’s hand? He’s a shrimp!”

Colin swallowed.

Someone got out of the car and pushed through the gang. Colin saw that it was Razor, a crazed glint in his eyes. “That kid’s a lot stronger than he looks,” Razor said.

A couple of the others laughed. “Oh, sure! He’s a power-house, all right!”

Razor looked down at Colin. “Well, new boy. Don’t feel so brave now, do you?”

“Mostly I feel tired,” Colin said.

Razor laughed. “See what I was telling you? He’s got a smart mouth.”

I’m not going to get out of this
, Colin thought.
Might as well try to minimize the damage.

He pointed to the car. “That your car, Razor?”

“It is now.”

Colin gave it an approving look. “Not bad. You’re not heading north, by any chance, are you? I need to get to Richmond.”

“What, Richmond in
Virginia
?”

“Yes.”

Razor grinned. “Sure…Hop in.”

When Colin hesitated, Razor grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the car. “Let’s go for a little ride, new boy.”

“On second thought, I don’t think I will. But thanks.”

“Now you’ve insulted me again.”

“You’re easily insulted,” Colin said. He wished he hadn’t.

Razor pulled the canvas bag from Colin’s hand. “What’s this? You a
thief,
new boy? You steal this food from the shelter?” He tossed the bag to one of his friends. “Rico, bring that stuff back before they realize it’s missing.” To Colin, he said, “Whenever food goes missing they always blame me. You trying to get me in trouble?”

“No, I just—”

“Put him in the car.”

Two of Razor’s gang took hold of him and forced him into the backseat of the car, one sitting on either side of him. Razor got into the driver’s seat, revved the engine and pulled out into the street, then spun the wheel and made a quick U-turn, then turned left back up the dark street.

“I wouldn’t go this way if I were you,” Colin said. “Police.”

The teenager on Colin’s left said, “What kind of crap are you talking, new boy?”

“Trust me.”

At the junction, Razor slowed the car down to a crawl. “He’s right. There’s a cop car pulling up outside the shelter.”

Colin could see Façade’s two men standing next to their own car, one of them speaking into his phone. The other one was looking around, holding one of the photographs Trish had taken.

Razor stopped the car. “Who the hell are
they
?”

Façade’s agent stared in their direction, nudged his companion and showed him the photo. Colin heard him say, “That’s him!”

He’s spotted me!
Colin realized. “Drive!” he shouted.

“Who
are
they?”

“ATF,” Colin said, remembering one of the groups Trish had mentioned earlier. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it had the right effect; Razor swore, put the car into drive and roared out of the narrow street.

Colin watched as Façade’s men ran back to their car. “These guys are good,” he said. “You’re going to have a tough time losing them.”

“Oh yeah? Watch
this—
!” Razor floored the accelerator and the car sped up a tiny amount. Through the rearview mirror he could see the other car approaching fast. “What the hell have they got under the hood?”

The teenager on Colin’s right said, “How do they
know
? Someone must have talked! Razor, I told you we should’ve dumped the booze!”

“Shut up, Ritchie!” Razor said. “OK, new boy. You’re so smart, you tell me which way to go.”

Colin listened. Over the roar of the engines, he could barely make out the voices of Façade’s men. “They’re calling for backup…It’ll take a few minutes…They’re reading out the license number.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Razor said. “It’s a false plate.”

“So? They’re going to be looking for a car with this license number. It doesn’t make any difference whether it’s real or not.”

“Good point. All right, what next?”

“We’re going south now…They’re asking for a roadblock in…” Colin tried to remember the map. “St. Augustine. We need to change direction without them knowing about it.”

Razor ran a red light. “And how do we do that?”

“We need to switch cars…Find a quiet spot, you and me will get out. Your friends here can keep driving. They’re only after you,” Colin lied.

Razor glanced in the rearview mirror. “It’s OK. We’ve lost them.”

He slowed the car.

Colin listened. “No, they’re still coming! They took a side road…They’re coming up on the left.”

Razor did a hand brake turn and sped back up the street. “How the hell do you know all this?”

“If we get away, I’ll tell you…OK…They can’t see us. Pull over and stop the car somewhere dark.”

“You better be right about this,” Razor said.

“Trust me. I don’t want to get caught any more than you do.”

Razor stopped the car at a spot where the streetlights were broken and shut off the headlights.

“Here they come,” Colin said. “Everyone duck down.”

A few seconds later, the car with Façade’s men screamed past.

Colin relaxed. “OK. They didn’t see us. But they’re slowing down; they know we’re around here somewhere. We need to get out of here.”

“All right.” Razor turned to his friends and handed the car keys to the one on Colin’s right. “We’re swapping rides, Ritchie. Give me your keys.”

Reluctantly, the boy handed his own car keys to Razor. “Don’t scratch it.”

“Where’s it parked?”

“My mom’s old apartment.”

“Good. Gas?”

“I put twenty bucks in yesterday.”

“Anything I need to know about it? Got anything stored in the trunk that’s going to get me arrested?”

“No, nothing. Jeez, Razor! You leave the state and you’re really gonna be screwed!”

“I know.” He looked at Colin. “But I got my early-warning system here.”

“Why can’t you leave the state?” Colin asked. He was in the passenger seat of Ritchie’s car. Razor was driving just under the speed limit, in a manner he hoped wouldn’t attract too much attention.

“None of your damn business,” Razor said. “You tell
me
something. How’d you know those guys were looking for me? How did you know which way they were going?”

Colin had been expecting this question. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I just
know
things.”

“You’re telling me you’re psychic?”

“I don’t know about that. It comes and goes.”

“And how’d you do that thing with your hand?”

“It’s just a matter of knowing where the pressure points are,” Colin lied.

“Where’d you learn it?”

“My parents.”

“What are they? Karate experts or something?”

“Something like that.”

“What else can you do?”

“Not much.”

Razor shook his head. “You’re one weird little kid, you know that? So why do you want to get to Richmond?”

“There’s an old friend of my parents’ there. I’m hoping he’ll be able to help me.”

“That so?”

Colin nodded. “Yeah. My dad says he’s very rich. He used to be an inventor.”

“
How
rich?”

“Rich enough to give you a reward for helping me.”

“What sort of a reward?”

“Whatever you want,” Colin lied. “A new car. A new house, maybe. He’s also got a lot of connections. He could get your record cleared. Give you a new identity. Like I said, whatever you want.”

Razor laughed. “How about a date with Avril Lavigne?”

“Funny you should say that…Apparently he used to go to school with her mother’s cousin. Still keeps in touch.”

As Razor mulled over this very attractive idea, the car crossed over the border from Florida into Georgia.