The Push Chronicles (Book 1): Indomitable (13 page)

Chapter 15 Charge

The tension in the city was palpable by the time we made it through the security checkpoints to get back in.  It wasn’t surprising given the imminent rally and the sudden terrorist bombing.  Only a miracle kept the National Guard from already moving tanks around the National Mall, where most of the Pushed were gathering for the rally.

Just as the attack on the train had seemed a convenient circumstance to promote the Pushed as heroes, this bombing was all too conveniently set up to make them look like monsters.  If those suspicions were true, were there two cloaked masterminds behind this?  That was that question that was bouncing around my head as Brooks was attending to my fresh new injuries in the hotel room the two agents had procured.

“I know you’re certain this all points to Eric,” I began, trying not to wince as he cleaned my cuts and scrapes, “and I can’t argue against the evidence so far, but look, doesn’t this seem as much of a set-up as last night?  This thing is already a powder keg; it’s why we’re here, after all; so if someone wanted to touch it off, this would be perfect for that.”

“Look, Doc, I know you’re smart,” Duane argued, “but this isn’t physiology, this is criminology.  You go where the evidence and motives point.  I already showed you the video footage, which I would get fired for if you told the wrong people I might remind you.  You’re not entirely wrong, but who the hell would be crazy enough, outside of your boyfriend, to want to set off a war in Washington?"

"He not only knows about us working with you, he’s lumped us together.  We’re the bad guys and he wants us out of the way.”  He began prodding my arm gently, trying to feel the extent of the potential fracture.  I gritted my teeth in pain, but tried to pay attention.  “So it was drastic.   Everything this guy does is drastic.”

“OK, fine, just let me try my way first before you try to straight up arrest him.”

Brooks looked at me dubiously, then examined my arm again.  He nodded to himself.

“Shit, I wish I healed as fast as you do.  At most you’ve got a minor incomplete fracture, when, frankly, you should probably have multiple complete fractures.  I can’t even see any signs of your impacted shoulder past some swelling.  I don’t even need to cast you.”  He started packing his black bag when I coughed to get his attention.

“You didn’t answer me, Duane.  I won’t go out there to help you if you don’t agree to give me the freedom to try this without getting half of Washington blown to pieces.”

“Fine, sure, do it.”  Brooks’ face was contorted, almost like it was a fight to get the words out.  I could only guess that the Whiteout was still influencing his mind, like it seemed to do to everyone else in the world but me and those like me.

There were still no tanks surrounding the National Mall, but the police presence on the streets was insane.  I could swear I caught glimpses of more than a few men-in-black types as well.  CIA, FBI, NSA, or some other alphabet agency, it didn’t matter what origin they came from, just that they were here.  All the roads and sidewalks to the area around the Capitol and White House were blocked off with checkpoints.

I had left Duane to monitor me through the microphones; I only hoped he kept his cool and let me do my job.  I would have felt better if Rachel had been there as well, just to have the two of them keeping an eye on one another.  I only hoped she would pull through.  As much as I disliked being tracked and used by the FBI, there was no personal ill will towards the two agents; they could have been far more unreasonable and just thrown me to the government scientists to poke, prod, and analyze.

As it turned out, crossing the checkpoint was the easiest thing I had to do all that day.  With no mask and riding a rented motorcycle, I looked like any normal person and I didn’t give off that ‘pulse’ that made people take notice.  I had proper identification and apparently no flags on my record to get the attention of law enforcement, so I was just Doctor Irene Roman on sabbatical from Georgia Tech.  Nothing to see here, move along, have a nice visit to our nation’s capitol.  As soon as I feasibly could, I dropped the bike off at a parking garage, masked up, and slipped into the surprisingly large crowd of Pushed that were milling about on the Mall.

I couldn’t verbalize how disorienting it was.  I felt like my skin would tear free from my bones and my eyes would start flipping in their sockets like a slot machine.  It was hundreds, no thousands, of points of unreality all around me.  I managed to rush to a trash can the first time the nausea hit, vomiting up surprisingly little of my last massive meal at the hotel.  The physiologist in me was marveled by just how fast my metabolism was spiking when the second dry heave rumbled through my system.

A passing man in what had to be a home-made costume with red starburst accents stopped and pointed out there was a medical tent set up over there.  He was even nice enough to ask if I needed a hand.  I waved him off; I had to master this on my own or else I would never be able to get this job done before Brooks brought the FBI in here.  The man shrugged and wandered off.  I was standing there, gripping the edges of the metal can so hard I could hear the metal creak, until, finally, I felt I could raise my head.  I just had to stay focused on the task at hand.  There were too many lives at stake.

I had to get a move on, not just because of the looming rally.  My very presence was causing the Pushed who got too close to take notice.  I felt stupid; just like I felt them, they felt the lack of that same thing in me.  I was practically a walking antithesis to their new reality.

I pressed on, trying not to bump into anyone and possible trigger more trouble.  Passing through part of one of their phantom outer bodies would out me for sure.  I caught a spot of luck, though, when I caught sight of a very familiar mass of snake-hair directing people around what I guessed was a food tent.

Despite my efforts to be silent, it was folly to try to sneak up on someone who had at least a dozen pairs of eyes.  As I approached, Medusa shouted one last direction to what I saw had to be some kind of size-changer, who grew to hold up a section of tent to allow it to be properly propped up, and turned to me.  Her scaly features were hard to read, but her human face shot a look full of worry.

“Madre de Diosss, what are you doing here?” she hiss-whispered as her snakes seemed to squirm, looking in all directions.  “Epic sssaid you were sssupposssed to be banned from here, that you attacked him and he sssent you back to Atlanta.”

Typical pack of lies and half-truths from my old boyfriend, I noted.  I swallowed back another wave of nausea and shook my head.

“Obviously that wasn’t entirely the truth,” I said.  “Look, there’s not much time to explain but I need your help.  All of you guys.  Especially Mind’s Eye.”  Before I could stop myself, I found myself wondering something else.  “Wait.  What the hell does he have you doing?”

“Ah, well, asss powerful and charisssmatic asss Epic isss, he hasss pretty poor organizational sskillsss,” she responded.  “I wasss a sssocial worker and community organizer before thisss ssso ...”  She gestured with the clipboard.  “I’ll take you to Mind’sss Eye but what isss ssso important?”

I arched an eyebrow.  I could only guess that information wasn’t passing well from the outside or maybe the government was trying to cover up the bombing entirely.

“Someone bombed FBI headquarters, someone who either was Pushed or could fake it very well.”  I looked around.  “If we don’t find some way to confirm or deny this, things are going to get ugly here and fast.”

A suspicious cast came over Medusa’s face, but it didn’t linger.  She shook her head as if she were trying to get her bearings.

“I wanted to asssk how you knew all of thisss but it doesssn’t matter.”  She tossed the clipboard on one of the tables.  “Livesss are at sstake, aren’t they?”  I managed a smile, despite still feeling green around the gills.  It was starting to fade as I acclimated, but not fast enough for me.

“That’s the spirit!”  I looked around again.  “So, where to?”

Medusa gestured with her snakes as she started making her way through the crowd.  I dutifully followed, still trying to avoid touching anyone here in the crowd.

“Epic set off a private little tent for the five of usss,” she whispered quietly as we walked.  Frankly, I was surprised I could hear her through the crowd’s murmuring.  “I ssshould tell you what he’sss planning.  The othersss think it’sss OK but ...”  She stopped herself as we arrived at what must have been the tent in question.

I was a bit amazed at how elaborate it looked from the outside.  It very specifically resembled the kind of royal pavilions that you would find a fantasy movie or at a fancy renaissance festival.  For that matter, I was astonished that he had gotten this event organized so quickly and completely.  Sure, there were parts he needed help with, but overall, it was a masterstroke.  Did he just make all of these tents and other things appear with his powers or was there someone backing him?  So many questions that were really not important at the time flooded my mind.  I forced myself to get back to the task at hand as we slipped through the flap door.

Mind’s Eye was hovering in the center of the room, above a large round meeting table.  I would have to remember to knock points off Eric’s score for lack of originality.  The Human Tank was driving in circles around the table, looking very much like the impatient teenager he was.  Some day, I told myself, I had to ask why the most talkative person here and the most reserved seemed so inseparable.  The rest of the crew seemed to be absent.

“Medusa, welcome back,” the Indian seer said, her voice seeming only half-there.  “I can only guess that Indomitable is with you by dint of the hole she causes in my sight.  Hello.”  She nodded in mid-meditation.

Tank rolled up and impulsively threw his arms around me.  I managed to avoid crying out in surprise as my skin tried to jump half a foot away before he relented.

“You’re okay! Which is awesome because even though Epic said nothing bad happened to you even though you hit him or something I was still kind of worried and so was Medusa because well you know you seemed so nice and it seemed weird that you would hit him after you even warned us not to let anything violent happen because you two had a relationship which I still want to know about even though Mind’s Eye thinks you two used to go out so is that right or what?”

“As much as I'd love to answer that, there are bigger problems,” I said as I raised my hands to quiet the boy. Tank looked slightly crestfallen for a moment, but then bounced right back with a grin.

“Bad guys right?  It’s gotta be bad guys!”

Mind’s Eye broke from whatever trance she was in and reoriented to face us.

“Tank, your enthusiasm is both heartening and infectious, but please, let Indy speak.”  She tried to orient her gaze on where I had last spoken from.  “I cannot add her to our mental link so speech is most vital right now.”

“Thank you,” I said, then favored Tank with an apologetic look.  “No offense, man.”  He beamed back at me and stayed, well, mostly quiet.

“OK, I bet Medusa forwarded at least the start of it, but let’s recap: Someone, possibly a Pushed, dropped a bomb in FBI headquarters.  I’ve been shown the evidence ... don’t ask how ... and it’s pretty damning.  Video of a white flash, exactly like Epic’s teleportation, and then the bomb is just there.  It detonates a second later.”  I made an emotive explosion with my hands.  “People are dead, more are hurt, and now, if you didn’t notice, there are police barricades all around the Mall.”

“You do not believe that he did it, however, do you?”

“Well ...”  I paused for a moment.

Despite the skepticism I showed to Agent Brooks, it was hard not to point at Eric.  Could he have decided that the FBI was getting close after he discovered their link to me?  Could he just have been offended that they had me under their thumb?  He was so erratic.  Still, the look of horror he had when I accused him of the terrorist attack ... that was real.  I knew it.  I couldn’t believe he would deny that so vehemently and then orchestrate essentially the same thing today.

“... no.  No matter how far apart our worldview is, Epic didn’t do this.  It’s a frame up.  The flash could have been duplicated through some other means: another Pushed or maybe even some kind of flash bomb rigged up for this occasion.  There have to be other teleporters, or the flash could have been cover for an inside job.  I need you to try to use your psychic powers to get us a lead, more evidence, something before this whole thing explodes.”

“Doc, this is not what we agreed to,”  Brooks warned in my ear, the growling voice sounding dangerously harsh.  “Don’t put thoughts into their head.  Get their help to get the evidence and that’s it.”

I didn’t know if that was the revenge-seeking agent who had a dozen dead colleagues and a hurt partner or the Whiteout talking.  Maybe it was both.

“My ability to foresee the future is vastly distorted to the point of blindness here,” Mind’s Eye confessed.  “I can only surmise that there are too many individuals with unusual abilities for the future to follow a set path, not to mention the invisibility both you and Epic seem to present to my senses.  However, there is another way.”

“What do we have to do, Mind’ssss Eye?”  Medusa pressed.  “Indy ssseemsss to think we don’t have much time.”

“Right,” I nodded swiftly.  “My guess is if they don’t have counter-evidence, the police will make their move during the rally.  It’s the one time they can be sure of where Epic will be.”