The Next Chronicle (Book 1): Next (10 page)

After twenty minutes, Towney indicated the signal from Thomas was getting much stronger.

“It's strange, though,” he said, accent thickening. “The intensity is there, but it's almost blank. He must be sleeping, because I'm not getting anything but white noise. Really loud white noise.”

Archer slowed the car and took direction from Towney as they honed in on the location. The area around was mostly vacant. A few hundred yards one direction held several tracts of old one-story houses. The signal from Thomas led the other way, down a road that ended in an enormous cul-de-sac populated by shuttered buildings. An industrial park, long since closed and forgotten. On the way in they passed an actual park, fresh and new, with elaborate playground equipment spread over a wide area. The place took up a large tract of the empty land between the nearby homes and the empty businesses, and the bright paint, fresh landscaping, and obvious newness of it clashed with the weedy, worn-out surroundings.

Kit mumbled something about it. Archer, who seemed to have ears like a dog, grunted.

“
Oh. Yeah, that's part of the county renewal deal they've been doing for a while. Supposed to be putting parks and even indoor swimming pools in all over. They always pick the strangest places to put them.”

Towney pointed them toward the abandoned buildings. As the car slowly crept down the dusty road, the portly Brit motioned for a halt. Archer pulled onto the narrow shoulder, obscuring the vehicle behind, and partially in, the overgrowth pushing at the edges of the street.

“It's to the right,” Towney said as he pointed. “Did you see the buildings there before we stopped? Looked like an old office park, a grid of them on one side of the branch road and a warehouse or something on the other. He's there.”

Archer turned around in his seat, eyes searching Towney's face. “You're sure?”

The other man nodded. “Beyond doubt. And I think he's still asleep. Still getting nothing but static.”

Archer glanced at Kit. “Okay, boss. Your call. What's our next move?”

Kit turned it over in her head for a few seconds. “We wait. Call our backup teams again, see who's closest, and we'll move on from there.”

Archer ended the call, and the deep lines of his frown said it all.

“We're not going to have backup here for at least another hour.”

Kit swore. “What happened? Was there another breakout attempt or something?”

Archer sighed. “No. The cleanup went fine. But today seems to be a busy one for us. Remember, we cover a lot of area. Deakins has had calls in all over the place today. Some can be put off for a while and have police monitoring until we can send teams, but a lot of others need immediate response. We'd be all right if it weren't for an altercation in Winchester. Four Next got into a brawl during lunch. Lot of property damage, and they've been trying to tear their jail cells apart. No choice on that one.”

Kit blew out an aggravated breath. “Okay. We're here, so let's get the lay of the land as much as possible. We can't go near the street, or we risk being seen. Let's gear up and try to work out a strategy.”

They did so in silence. Kit slipped on a prototype combat vest, compliments of the research division, and put the comm in her ear. Over her work pants she donned a matching set of leggings, sewn with the same thin and flexible experimental armor the vest used. At her belt were several EMP grenades, holstered service weapon, and a smaller sidearm she hadn't had the chance to test yet.

Archer gave a low whistle when he noticed the last. “Wow. They're letting you test out the ray gun, eh? I didn't think old Nunez would let anyone touch that.”

Kit snorted. “It's not a ray gun, and Nunez only decided to give me this new gear because he thinks I'll end up killing myself otherwise. He says I take too many risks.”

It had been gift from the scientist, a duffel full of interesting new technology, but not one the director of an agency might be expected to use often. Except he'd smiled and told her how most federal agencies didn't deal with people who could explode your head with mind-beams. Proactive, he'd called Kit, then. A go-getter.

“Nunez called it a pulse gun, not a ray gun,” Kit said. “It's supposed to be just like the pulse grenades, but focused instead of a blast. So I don't accidentally screw up my own powers while trying to take down a bad guy.”

Kit pulled her pistol, checked the magazine, and chambered a round before stashing it back in her holster. The rounds were also created in the facility's lab, designed to take down a raging superhuman or angry rhino, depending on the day. They weren't as powerful as she'd like—a rifle bullet, say—but in a pinch ten shots from her handgun were better than nothing.

She finished securing the last piece of her gear, a web harness over the vest, and attached her knife to it. She faced Archer, who had his own vest on, and they tested the comms.

“
Signal's clear,” Archer said.

Kit nodded. “Okay. I'm going to go around, work my way through these bushes, and try to get a look at the area Thomas is stashed in. I won't engage unless I have to. Hopefully our backup will be here before long, and we'll be able to give them some idea of the layout.”

Towney tapped the comm in his own ear nervously, but gave her a thumbs-up. “What should I do?”

Kit looked in the direction of the buildings Thomas and the killer were hiding in, though they were hidden by the wild, high bushes. “You keep yourself occupied with Thomas. If you feel him wake up, move, anything, you tell Archer. Otherwise let him listen as I feed information this direction, and try not to do anything distracting.”

Towney let out a small, twittering laugh, then cut it short. “Ah, sure. No worries. Sorry. Nerves, you know.”

Kit put a hand on his shoulder. “It's fine. I understand.” Giving him a gentle squeeze, she turned to face the unchecked growth between her and the captive boy.

She took two steps forward but hesitated on the third. To the surprise of both men with her, Kit dropped to one knee, head bowed.

The sound of her voice carried to both of them, even as low as it was, though the words were fast and unintelligible.

Towney glanced at Archer, an eyebrow raised.

“
Must be a prayer,” Archer said. “It's Hebrew. And now one in Hindi, if I'm not mistaken.”

Kit stood, the doubt and fear she felt before any mission now gone. It was always that way; like a musician, her own nerves jangled and screamed, every fear she had about her own abilities in the front of her head right until she had to strike the first note. Then it was all gone. All that was left was her, the job to be done, and the will to do it.

Archer moved in close and whispered to her.

“
You'll be fine, Kit.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. His face was lined with worry, but there was pride in those eyes, too. Kit shook her head.

“Wasn't praying for myself,” she said, gesturing toward her target. “It was for Thomas.”

Moving through the massive bushes, some of them twice her height, was easier than it looked. Most of what they saw from the road were the heavy tops of the plants spilling down under their own weight. Past that barrier, the ground was mostly clear. It was like walking beneath especially dense weeping willows, only Kit had to slither through a forest of them as she made her way diagonally across the field.

After a few minutes of slow, methodical work, she glanced up through one of the rare empty spaces in the canopy and craned her neck to make sure she was heading in the right direction. Beneath the thick boughs of the bushes, she felt like she was in another world.

It was hard not to see it as she would have as a child, each bush spilling over itself to create a hidden little world where a short adult or a tall child could stand. As she worked her way forward, memories of her own family, carefree times in green gardens, kept sneaking up on her.

Thomas would never make those kinds of memories again. That stabbed at her.

“
Poor kid,” she muttered.

“
What was that?” Archer's voice said in her ear.

“
Nothing,” Kit replied.

The fence surrounding the target area appeared suddenly, ten feet of chain link that loomed tall amid the tangled vines and reaching tendrils. Kit crouched at the edge, confident that the vegetation around her afforded good cover.

“I'm at the fence,” Kit relayed. “I can see the eastern side of the warehouse. No sign of any recent movement over here. There's an access road but it doesn't look like the killer drove through this way. The plants there are undisturbed.”

“
Copy that,” Archer said.

“
The building is in worse shape than I thought it would be. Most of the windows are broken. Part of the roof is missing.” Kit tilted her head, free ear cocked toward the warehouse. “I just heard something. Not sure what.”

She listened, but the faint noise didn't repeat. Kit took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the energy she felt coursing through her body. It was obvious to her now, though before her powers began to appear she hadn't felt it. Then one day it felt as if her blood were jolted with current.

She redirected the flow, pushing her hearing to the limit of her abilities.

So quiet she almost missed it, she heard a sniffle. High and weak. A child.

Thomas.

“
Archer, I'm going over the fence.”

His reply was breathless and sharp. “That's not a good idea, Kit. You don't know what you're getting into. Play it safe.”

Kit kept her free ear angled toward the warehouse. “I hear him. I heard Thomas, Archer. He's in there. I'll be quiet. I won't go inside. But I need to see if I can get a fix on where he is.”

There was silence from the comm.

“Archer? Are you there?”

“
I'm here, Kit. This is your show. You do what you have to on your end. I'll do the same on mine. Just be careful.”

“
I will. I'll relay what I can, but I'm going to try to be as quiet as possible.”

“
Understood,” Archer replied.

Kit moved down the fence until she came to a post. In a single fluid motion she crouched and leaped, hands snapping onto the top of the post as her entire body flexed inward. At the apex of her jump she flexed straight and pushed away, performing a neat flip.

As she landed Kit allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. “Six years of gymnastics, not wasted,” she muttered to herself. “Thanks, mom.”

She stood motionless and listened. There were no more sounds from the building. Her heart raced. Had the killer heard her?

No. There weren't any sounds, but that was a good thing. If Thomas's kidnapper heard her, surely he would be running or getting ready to fight, some kind of reaction other than silence. Unless, of course, he was a professional or very practiced. The thought made her blood run cold.

Kit made her way forward slowly, a careful pace that barely caused a scrape amid the overgrown grass and gravel that made up the abandoned road. As she moved in close to the building she took stock, noting that the windows were much too high to see through. Too risky to attempt entry.

Close to the collapsed section of roof there was a ladder. It was bolted to the wall and thankfully was no longer covered by the locked mesh that kept out the curious, which lay on the ground below it. The ladder started twelve or thirteen feet up, however, which was beyond even her enhanced reach.

Not with just a jump, anyway.

Kit took a deep breath as she positioned herself beneath the rusty contraption. The bolts holding the ladder to the block exterior looked solid enough, but she didn't kid herself. They could be rusted through, and the only way she would find out would be if they broke.

She considered for a moment, then took off her shoes. Too much chance of making noise. Then she stripped off her socks as well, because she didn't want to slip and break her neck.

She took two steps back and released her breath, willing the Surge to gather and focus in her muscles. Immediately the color leached out of the world as her senses dimmed to human normal. The myriad sounds that made up the background music of her life vanished to vague whispers.

Kit felt the flush of power flood through her muscles and bones, and she bolted forward at top speed, running up the wall as high as she could go. The sound of her footfalls on the heavy block was faint, but with her hearing weakened she couldn't tell if it was loud enough to be heard from the inside.

Then the sensation of cold steel against hands as her last push from the wall tried to send her outward. One hand let go of the bottom rung as her momentum spun her upward, and she grabbed onto a higher rung to stabilize her motion.

For half a second, Kit was parallel to the ground, feet pointed out like a flag.

Mom and dad would be so proud,
she thought wryly.

She brought her feet in and hooked them on a rung, quickly untangled herself, and worked her way toward the damaged roof. Once there, she could peek in over the edge. Maybe catch a glimpse of Thomas. Before she could move, Archer's voice thundered in her ear.

“Kit, Thomas is awake. Towney says he's terrified. We've moved in close. We're near the front entrance, about thirty feet from the curb. Be careful. Deakins sent a text, backup is on the way. Ten minutes, fifteen at the outside. You don't have to—”

Whatever Archer had been about to say was lost as the wall in front of Kit met her body in a silent explosion. The ladder saved her from being crushed, intercepting the larger pieces as the telekinetic fist slapped her into the air.

She sailed across the road and over the fence faster than she could process. There wasn't any pain yet, but the force of the hit had surely done damage.

Then there was the ground to consider.

Kit threw her arms and legs out wide in an attempt to spread the impact across as much area as possible. She could take a bullet, but
being
one was a different matter.

Kit met the earth as she had flown, skipping flat on her back across the field. Which was why she didn't realize how lucky she was.

Her body tumbled through four of the giant bushes before she lost enough momentum to drop between the tangled limbs and hit the ground. She tried to take stock of her injuries, but her head felt a little loose. Her perceptions had returned to normal as her concentration slipped, the Surge falling back into its usual even flow. Sound was all around her.

That was how she heard the attack. Archer's distant shout and the thunderous crack of shattering masonry, a shriek that could only be Towney, full-throated one second and gone the next.

“Oh, god,” Kit breathed as she scrambled to her feet. “I'm coming. I'm...”

Blackness swooped in from the edges of her vision, but she looked up just in time to see the cloud of dust rising from where the front half of the warehouse had been.

Then nothing.

Her blackout only lasted a few seconds. She knew because when she jerked awake and threw her gaze toward the sky, the dust was still rising.

Slowly, she got to her feet. Bile climbed her throat as nausea pummeled her insides. She bit back the urge to vomit and carefully picked her way toward the destruction. She stopped every few feet to let the pounding headache and encompassing sickness recede, but only long enough to allow her to move a little further.