Quantum Cheeseburger

by Jeremy Michelson

  “Your negotiating position is poor,” the voice said, “And my sensors tell me you have taken on a very dangerous passenger.”

  Julie whipped around to me. Her eyes widened. “Shit!”

  She lifted the plasma rifle.

  That did it.

  Two days ago the sight of a weapon aimed my way would have scared the crap out of me. Now, it enraged me.

  Power surged through me. I pulled at the ropes holding my wrists. They parted like wet tissue paper.

  Julie’s pupil’s widened. Her finger squeezed the trigger.

  My hand shot out and caught the bolt. It sizzled in my hand, writhing, throwing off blue sparks. I threw it back at her.

  It missed her. Barely.

  The bolt shattered the windshield. Bounced out on the desert ground.

  The goon turned. Things seemed to move in slow motion.

  Cool. Another new trick.

  The goon brought his weapon up. He still had the black pack slung over his shoulder. Whatever the artifact was, it had to be in there.

  Through my rage, I made a decision.

  Twenty-Eight

  I ripped the seatbelt off and fell. I twisted in mid-air.

  Landed on my the balls of my feet.

  The inside of the upside down Grum was crowded. It stank of dust and sweat. Cool night air rolled through the broken windshield. Julie and the goon had their plasma rifles trained on me.

  There was shock on their faces. But not fear.

  I plucked the plasma rifles out of their hands.

  I ripped the guns in half. Tossed the sparking pieces aside.

  The goon was still reacting to the rifle disappearing from his hands when I reached out again. This time I plucked the pack off him. One the straps snapped. The force of the other slipping from his arm spun the goon around. His eyes went wide

  Now I had the artifact. What next?

  I looked down at the still form of Dr. Kincaid at my feet. I made another decision.

  With a kick, I sent the door beside me flying into the night. I scooped up Dr. Kincaid and exited the vehicle in an orderly fashion.

  Actually, I just ran.

  I slung the pack over one shoulder, then slung Dr. Kincaid over my other shoulder. I sensed the drones coming at me. They whined like overgrown mosquitos.

  My vision became enhanced. Suddenly I could see the brush and rock dotted landscape as clearly as daylight.

  I ran for a rocky outcropping. The whining drones followed.

  “Human! Stop!” the voice called out, “You are endangering yourself and others.”

  That just made me madder. It wasn't as if he cared about my life.

  I jumped up on the outcropping. I dumped the unconscious Dr. Kincaid on the ground. He landed with a thud and a grunt. If he wasn’t such a douche bag, I might have felt bad about it.

  I grabbed a handful of rocks and turned to face the drones.

  They moved fast. Spindly little collections of sticks, changing shape as they moved through the sky. There was something very organic and creepy in their movements. Like a tangle of worms undulating across a hand.

  In rapid fire, I sent rocks flying at them. I scored hits with every rock.

  Which was an even more amazing superpower.

  When I was a kid I had been kicked off of every sports team you could imagine. No matter what sport it was, I couldn't hit the ball, I couldn't throw the ball, I couldn't catch the ball. Eventually, the coaches would take me aside and tell me politely–or not politely–to go find something else to do.

  Thoughts of those humiliating times made me even madder.

  I grabbed clumps of rocks and hurled them into the air as hard as I could. They left fiery trails as they streaked into the sky. I was like a reverse meteor shower.

  I stomped the ground. Screamed my rage.

  The rocky outcropping shattered. Collapsed under me. That just made me madder.

  Then something plinked off my skin.

  I reached out. Plucked the tiny object from the air. A needle sized dart.

  Julie’s little gun.

  I spun around. My enhanced eyes swiftly found her. Fifty feet away. Her eyes were hard, her lips pressed thin. She held the gun up and fired two more shots at me. Both bounced off me. I howled and bounded over to her in one leap.

  The ground shook with my landing. Knocked her to the dirt. She scrambled back a couple feet, then shot me again with the little gun. I snatched it out of her hand, crumpling it in my fist.

  “Why!” I yelled at her.

  She clapped her hands to her ears. My voice echoed like thunder.

  “Why did you use me?” I asked, “What did I do to deserve that?”

  A blast of plasma fire hit me. It blew a hole in my blue coveralls and scattered against my skin.

  I looked up. The goon stood a few yards away, his black pistol pointed at me.

  “Get away from her you freak!” he shouted.

  Me? The freak?

  I bellowed rage at him and leapt. In an instant, I was in front of him. He squeezed off another blast. It didn't even tickle me. But the force of it threw him back. He landed in the dirt, flopping down like a rag doll.

  I stood over him and yanked the plasma blaster from his hand. I squeezed the hot barrel. It squished like clay between my fingers.

  “You call me a freak?” I said, “You helped create me!”

  He jerked his leg up. Smashed his foot into my crotch. It bounced off like I had...well, you get the idea.

  “What the hell are you!” he shouted, “This wasn’t what the professor said was going to happen.”

  I grabbed his shirt and yanked him into the air. I pulled his face close to mine.

  “What was supposed to happen?” I asked.

  He didn't answer. He didn't look scared, either.

  “Hey!”

  I dropped the goon and spun around. Julie crouched next to Dr. Kincaid. She held a knife to his throat.

  “Stop right now or I’ll kill him,” she said.

  I laughed. “Go ahead. I hate his guts.”

  She pressed the knife against his skin. “I’m serious. You stop doing...whatever you’re doing. I’ll kill Kincaid if you don’t.”

  I made the world go slow motion. I raced over to her. Snatched the knife from her hand and broke it into little pieces. All before she could blink an eye.

  I took her hand and poured the shards into it. “There you go, have fun.”

  She opened her mouth, but I was already in motion. I picked up Dr. Kincaid and ran. I set a pace just short of burn-my-clothes-off speed.

  I had no idea where I was going, but I did have two things. I had Dr. Kincaid, and I had an object that was worth the entire world. At least according to some creepy alien.

  Somebody was going to give me answers.

  Twenty-Nine

  Rage is harder to maintain than people might think. It’s easy to stay mad at someone, or something. A guy can walk around all day with a dark cloud of angry over his head. A person can carry a grudge against someone indefinitely.

  But that’s not raw, hot anger. It’s not paint-blistering rage. It’s not a fire inside that bursts into the brain and makes one’s mouth and hands do terrible things.

  White hot, rock melting rage...it’s hard to keep that blast furnace of hate burning.

  So after a while, the rage faded away and I stopped running. Dr. Kincaid's weight on my shoulder was suddenly too much to carry. I lowered him to the ground and looked around. There seemed to be a whole lot of nothing. Dark nothing, since it was still night.

  I crouched. Felt weariness down to my bones. I really should have tried to plan this better. Clear, critical thinking was difficult when I was doing the Rage Monster thing, though.

  The night air brought me scents of juniper and...something else. I sniffed, teasing the smell out. Beans. Someone was cooking beans. My stomach growled and rumbled. My body trembled from hunger. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d skipped so many meal
s.

  I stood up and turned in a slow circle.

  There. A flicker of light, maybe a quarter mile away.

  I stared at it for a long while until I was sure it was a campfire. I crouched back down beside Dr. Kincaid. He was still out, his breathing and pulse steady. I didn’t want to leave him. Mostly because I’d never find him again unless he woke up and starting shouting profanity.

  For that same reason, I hesitated to carry him with me. It would be just my luck to sneak up on someone and have him wake up. I didn’t know if I could find my rage again on short notice.

  The tantalizing smell of food finally made up my mind. I picked up Dr. Kincaid. Actually, that made it sound easy. I grunted and groaned and sweated, getting his portly body over my shoulder. Then I thought I was going to die getting into a standing position with his corpulence dragging on my shoulders.

  “Geez doc, you need to lose a few pounds,” I said.

  He didn’t reply. If he had been conscious, he would have plenty to say. Sprinkled liberally with his favorite word.

  I maneuvered him into an awkward fireman's carry. I picked up the surprisingly heavy black backpack and set off toward the firelight.

  By the time I got close to the campfire, sweat poured off me like a waterfall. My legs trembled, my hands shook. My shoulders ached and burned under Dr. Kincaid’s weight.

  I stopped about a hundred feet away. I lowered Kincaid to the ground as quietly as I could. For a few minutes I kneeled on the rocky ground and breathed. Hunger and exhaustion made me dizzy.

  When I got to the point where I felt like I wasn’t going to die immediately, I turned my attention to the fire.

  The tantalizing scent of cooked beans and sizzling meat made saliva squirt in my desert dry mouth. I focused. Tried to ignore the wondrous food smells. There was an old VW minibus parked near the fire. I could make out the shapes of at least three people sitting around it. Faint voices and music came to me.

  I crept closer. Stepped oh so carefully as I tried not to make any noise. Having no training in being stealthy, I probably made enough noise to alert any commando with a heartbeat.

  The people around the fire didn't seem to notice, though.

  One of them had a guitar and strummed a lively tune on it. The guitar person had a woman sort of shape. I couldn’t tell for sure about the other two. The had their backs to me and wore coats and cowboy hats.

  A pot hung over the fire. One of the sitting people got up and stirred whatever was in it. Beans and meat. The smell of it drove me crazy. It was all I could do to keep from running up and sticking my face in it.

  I kept low. Crawled closer.

  I angled around juniper bushes. Bit my tongue when I nudged up against a spiky cholla cactus. It sure would be nice if my superpowers worked when I wasn’t pissed off. If Julie’s goon were to kick me in the gonads right then, he would have sent them flying up through the top of my head.

  The third person at the campfire stood up and stretched. I was close enough now I could hear their voices.

  "Gonna get rid of some Cerveza, mi muchachos," the person said.

  The voice sounded female. I flattened myself to the ground. She walked around the other side of the van.

  I lifted my head up. The other two definitely seemed like women. The one with the guitar had long, light colored hair that looked yellowish orange in the firelight. The other had shoulder length hair showing under her battered cowboy hat.

  I wondered how I could approach them. They didn’t appear to be armed. Maybe I could just stand up and introduce myself. And beg them for some food. Maybe some clothes if they had some. And a ride to Mexico, if they happened to be going that way.

  The decision got made for me.

  A cold piece of metal pressed against the back of my neck. I stayed very still. I didn’t have enough energy to summon my rage.

  "And what the hell do you think you're doing?" a woman asked.

  Thirty

  What the heck did I think I was doing?

  Besides crawling on my belly. Hungry, cold and exhausted. In a darkness covered, cactus-filled desert? On the run from the military, aliens, and mercenaries–one of whom was my fiancé?

  Well, at that particular moment, with a cold object that felt suspiciously like a gun barrel pressed against the back of my neck, I was trying not to make a mess in my pants.

  How many times had I had guns pointed at me in the last couple days? A person would think I’d be used to it by now.

  Blasé about it even.

  The first thing I did was stay very, very still. A juniper brush tickled my face. I tried to ignore it. My thighs and calves burned from staying crouched on the hard ground for so long. I swallowed hard and tried to work up enough saliva to speak. Over by the fire the woman with the guitar continued to strum. I realized the other woman was gone too. When had she left?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m really hungry. I smelled your food. Could I have some please?”

  My stomach growled. Loudly.

  The pressure against my neck didn’t ease. Something else pushed against the bag on my back.

  “What’s in there?” the woman asked.

  "That's a great question," I said, "I'm hoping sometime soon to have an answer to that. At the moment, though, I don't know what it is."

  The metal against my neck pressed harder.

  “You some kind of smart ass?” the woman asked.

  I sighed. I guessed the woman wasn’t going to shoot me or she would have done it by now. I got up from my crouch. The woman jumped back. She was fairly tall. She flicked on a flashlight, shining it in my eyes.

  “Don’t move, I’ll shoot!” she said.

  “Lady, I’ve had people shooting at me all day and all night,” I said, “If you wanna shoot, go ahead.”

  “Liz, there’s another guy over here!” another woman’s voice called out, “He’s unconscious.”

  Was that the other woman from the campfire? I glanced back at the fire. The woman with the guitar was still sitting, still strumming.

  “Who are you?” the first woman, apparently named Liz, asked.

  “I’m hungry, that’s who I am,” I said, “And the thing in my pack is wanted by at least two alien races and the United States military. The unconscious guy over there is my boss. We just escaped from a secret military base a few miles over yonder. Oh, and yesterday some dude infected me with some kind of alien thing that gives me super powers when I get mad. Now, can I please beg some food and water from you? The smell of those beans is driving me crazy.”

  The flashlight wavered for a moment, then lowered. In the wash of light I saw an angular face with a pointed chin. She wore a loose brown coat and a beat up black cowboy hat. Her long hair looked reddish gold in the firelight.

  “Oh what the hell,” she said, “Go get your boss and come sit.”

  I blinked. I didn’t think it would be that easy.

  “You need the flashlight?” she asked.

  She flipped it over and held the handle out. I took it.

  “Thanks. Be right back,” I said.

  “Better be,” she said, “That’s my favorite flashlight.”

  I retraced my steps to Dr. Kincaid. The other woman kneeled beside him. She had darker skin and cinnamon brown hair under a tan cowboy hat. Her face was rounder, not like the harsh planes of Liz’s face.

  “Hi,” I said, “Liz told me to get him and come in.”

  “I heard,” she said. She waved at Kincaid. “What’s wrong with him? I tried to wake him up.”

  Another good question. “Some kind of super spy knockout dart, I think,” I said, “The person who did it said he’d wake up after a while with a nasty headache.”

  "I'm Amber, by the way," the woman said, raising and extending her hand.

  I shook her hand. “I’m–”

  Dr. Kincaid groaned. “Fuck. What the fuck happened?”

  Great. I kind of hoped he’d be out for longer. Had it already been an hour?


  Dr. Kincaid rolled over and clutched his head.

  “Oh, holy fucking fuck. My fuckity fucking head,” he said, “What in the fucking hell?”

  I gave Amber a half smile and crouched down. “Dr. Kincaid, you’re going to be all right,” I said, “We got away from Julie and her friend.”

  “Who’s Julie?” Amber asked.

  Kincaid looked up. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m Amber,” she said, “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I am Dr. Huston Kincaid,” he said, “I am an esteemed scientist.”

  “Huston Kincaid. That’s a sexy name,” Amber said.

  Kincaid smiled. His pinched eyeballs focused on Amber. Looked her up and down. Shamelessly, I might add. Despite Amber’s shapeless brown coat, it wasn’t hard to notice she was curved in all the right places.

  Hey, I’m not dead, either.

  Kincaid got to his feet. Dusted himself off. He took Amber's hand and kissed the back of it. Actually kissed it. Like some kind of eighteenth-century lothario.

  Amber giggled.

  I almost whacked Kincaid on the head with the flashlight. Here we were in the middle of nowhere and he was trying to get a booty call? Of course, he hadn’t been pursued by the military and rabid aliens for the last two days. He probably hadn’t even missed a single meal, the bastard.

  I made myself calm down. I could feel the spark of rage close to reigniting. And here I’d thought it was extinguished for good.

  “Dr. Kincaid,” I said, “There’s a fire over there, with food. Shall we?”

  Kincaid was still making eyes at Amber. “I assume this lovely young lady will be joining us?”

  Amber giggled again. My jaw nearly dropped open. I think it was the first sentence I’d ever heard Kincaid say that didn’t have the F-word in it. I didn’t think it was possible.

  Amber took Kincaid’s hand. “Come on, Dr. Huston Kincaid, Liz and Clair will want to meet you.”

  They started off toward the fire. Left me standing there. After a few moments of grinding my teeth, I followed.

  My rage was getting easier to find all the time.