by Britt Ringel
The leather-clad woman snorted. “I thought staking this dump out was a waste of time but I guess Bowen was right.” She offered Kat a thin smile. “You really have lost your edge.” With hazel eyes that never left Kat’s, she took a step back and waved dispassionately to her companions. “All too easy. Kill her.”
Each agent’s index finger pulled at thin air.
Kat felt familiar pressure course through her head as she completed the push on their pistols. Obscenities filled the room instead of bullets while Kat clawed desperately for her Jamisons in the trunk, tossing clothes aside. Her blood ran cold with terror that her weapons might be missing but after what felt like decades, she uncovered them at the bottom of the footlocker.
“Use your backups!” the petite woman cried as she took cover behind a cot. “Get her away from that trunk!”
Kat reached for her guns with trembling hands. Her right hand wrapped around a pistol grip but her quivering left hand refused to cooperate. It felt numb, clumsy. Her entire body shook. The crack-pop of a single gunshot’s near miss sounded close to her ears. She abandoned the second pistol and dove behind her cot. The trunk shielding her was thick, heavy wood. Is it cover or merely concealment? she wondered. A second gunshot heralded the answer as the trunk absorbed the impact of the light caliber pistol’s blow. Kat lifted her Jamison to aim but pressure inside her head exploded and she groaned through the sting as the Consmythes reappeared. She heard the machine pistols clatter to the floor.
Her own pistol’s barrel now shook uncontrollably and her entire body shivered. Why am I so scared? Her breathing came in gasps and Kat noticed she could see its fog emanating before her. She flexed her left hand and made a fist. Her fingers felt like icicles. Realization struck her as a second bullet dug into the trunk. Cryokinesis. I’m not shivering because I’m afraid. Goth-girl is Tears. Her body continued to shudder spasmodically. Her hands ached in the plunging cold. How bad will this get?
Kat forced an unaimed shot toward the agents. Her pistol barked and the recoil drove tiny needles into her hand. Flechettes from her weapon shredded the far wall near the exit. Good, let them know I’m still in the fight. She lay on her side on the freezing floor, her legs tucked tightly to keep them behind the trunk. It was a poor defensive position. Kat craned her neck around the trunk for a quick glimpse at her assailants. Something ripped through her hair followed immediately by the loud report of a pistol. She pulled back into cover. A second shot ricocheted off the floor near her feet.
Kat panted, wisps of white streaming from her mouth. Condensation froze in her eyelashes, making them sticky. Her drenched clothes were stiffening, frosting over. She now shivered in both cold and fear. I’m trapped.
“She’s here, right now! Get over to the tenement!” Tears screamed from across the room. “And she just apportated my team’s guns!” Her voice grew critical. “They said she scorched herself!”
Kat fought to control her panic. You can find a way out of this. Think! The agents’ deadly Consmythes were still on the floor, trapped in no man’s land between the retreating agents and her position. She’d be facing a continuous stream of gunfire otherwise. During her peek, she had seen an agent to her right, crouched behind a cot’s locker and using it as a brace to steady his aim. The call from Tears had come almost directly opposite of Kat’s position. The second agent’s whereabouts were unknown but probably off to the left. A shot clanged off the frame of her cot near her legs. She tucked them closer to her body.
“Fuck that!” Tears yelled, continuing her half of a frantic conversation. “I’m not going near her. We’ve got her pinned so I’m just gonna freeze her out.”
Dammit! She’s reporting back to someone, probably Bowen. Kat clenched her jaw. They know I still have my powers now. The loss of such a vital advantage made her angry. The heat from that ire was a stark contrast to the cold in her extremities. Her fingers were becoming frozen sausages. She’d lost most sensation in her feet. Her nose felt numb and her cheeks burned. Ice in her eyelashes obscured her vision and she could barely keep her eyes open against the brutal sting of arctic air. She wiped at them with the club that was her ghostly-white left hand and fired a wild shot with the right while she was still able to flex her index finger. The effort required for the simple action was herculean. The price of the slight movement was agony. My body is shutting down. If I don’t get out soon, I’ll die here.
“Go to sleep, Pre-Cat. It’ll be painless,” Tears taunted from beyond.
“F-fuck you, bitch!” Kat answered through blue lips. She fired blindly several more times to punctuate her displeasure. Return fire answered her defiance and splinters from her trunk littered the floor.
Tears’ laughter carried across the room. “Now that’s the Pre-Cat we know. Li-li-little cold, are we?”
Kat hefted her pistol to gauge how much ammunition remained but she couldn’t guess because her entire arm was numb. It felt like solid wood. Her hands had taken on an almost waxy shine. Think, Kat! Focus on the problem. The exit was out of the question. Even without shots from the Consmythes, it would be a suicide run through the crossfire.
Every breath she pulled chilled her core from the inside. She glanced behind her, toward the bathroom. Ice crystals had formed along the archway to the lavatory. Frost had paid loving attention to the mirrors above the sinks.
During the lull in gunfire, Tears called out again. “You know, I was actually devastated when Tess labelled me as a cryokinetic. I mean, of course, I wanted to be you. Everyone wanted to be the girl who could see the future but, failing that, I wanted to throw fireballs so bad. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Kat edged closer to the trunk’s side until the first agent’s cot came into view. Any further and she risked a fusillade of gunfire. Screw it, she thought. I don’t need to see the trunk, I’ll just take the whole damned cot. She knew it was hopeless anyway. Accurate fire in her present condition was beyond her ability. She wasn’t even sure she could stand up, let alone run. She had no idea where the second agent was and if she’d be blundering directly into his field of fire. Kat struggled not to give in to despair. Pushing just one of their cots isn’t going to save me. She was contemplating suicide, plain and simple. She’d be shot half a dozen times before reaching the bathroom but she found it easier and easier to disregard the consequences of her reckless plan.
“But after I manifested and saw what I could actually do with cryokinetics… I mean, you slow down, you stop caring and you slip quietly into oblivion,” Tears continued. “Imagine how that feels. Can you feel it, Pre-Cat? Just roll onto your cot and you won’t have to imagine.”
Kat resigned herself to her fate. She might die in this room, on this floor, but she refused to let the cause be hypothermia. More anger stirred inside her. The cold has to be affecting their accuracy too. I’m not going quietly, God dammit. I may die but they’re going to know they’ve been in a fight. She concentrated on the corner of the first agent’s cot and tried to spool psionic energy. The doorway to the abyss inside her remained frozen shut. She strained until a sharp breath burst out of her from the exertion. Its foggy cloud hovered before drifting away. Suddenly her eyes widened with new hope. She raised her head even though it weighed a ton. Instead of peeking above the trunk, she elevated only high enough to scan the space above the cots. Across the room, three distinct white plumes lazily reached for the ceiling. Fixing the positions of her three tormentors, she twisted again to consider the best route to the bathroom. The bodies of the two innocent Trodden who had been near its archway lay on their sides. Her eyes came to rest on the bathroom wall behind them. “Tearsss?” she called, almost hissing the name as she slurred.
“Yes?”
A new arctic front washed over the room. The effect of the cold now felt almost like fire. Kat’s clothes had frozen stiff, crinkling when she moved. The Jamison had frozen to her right hand. She focused on the bathroom wall and heaved at the portal in her mind with all her might. The ice cracked and it nudged o
pen. Kat’s frozen lips broke into a smile. “Imagine this.”
Chapter 19
The wall dividing the bunkroom and bathroom ripped out of existence. The jagged gap in the remaining drywall stretched four meters wide and two meters high, resembling a gigantic creature’s enormous bite. Fountains of water spewed from the truncated pipes that had formerly snaked their way through the water wall. A torrent of cold water gushed over the floor, freezing in layers on the frigid tile. Hot water pipes sprayed a finer mist into the subarctic air, producing tiny ice crystals that hovered in a thick mist. The fog cascaded from the gap into both the bathroom and bunkroom like a rolling cloud.
A blanket of ice enveloped Kat and pushed deeper into the bunkroom. A tortured cry escaped her as she pushed off the frozen floor and stood. Her entire body protested and she staggered several steps as her legs refused to coordinate. Blind gunshots behind her spurred her forward. Tears’ obscenity-laced invective propelled Kat toward the bathroom even faster.
Glacial water rushed over her shoes. Her next step faltered on wet ice and she tumbled through the mist while windmilling her arms for balance. Her right hand still clutched the Jamison, the weapon and hand fused as one. She skidded, bounced off a cot’s metal frame and landed hard with a grunt. Her momentum carried her over the ice toward the bathroom. Bullets overhead forced her to scramble on hands and knees, pushing off cots and trunks with her feet for traction. All around her, the billowing cloud of ice offered total concealment.
An agent hit the expanding sheet of ice behind Kat and smashed into a cot. She heard his explosive cry and yelp of pain as she crawled forward. Urgent voices barked commands behind her but she couldn’t decipher the words over the hissing pipes ahead. An icy spray showered her, marking her passage through the gap and into the bathroom. The next instant, the shower cut off like a valve had closed and Kat’s tortured body barely registered the added pain of her psionic push’s end. The floor was an icy expanse and heavy mist still hovered around her.
Ice caked her hair. Her left eye had frozen shut. She moved her left hand to the outer bathroom wall but couldn’t tell if she was touching it or not. Oddly, the bitter cold was gone and she now felt overheated. The only sensation remaining in her body was that of white-hot flames touching her extremities. She inhaled deeply for her final push, knowing success was vital. With the pipes restored, her concealing mist was beginning to dissipate. She tried her best to block the pain and concentrate. Seconds count, Kat.
Two meters of wall tore from the timeline and a relative heat wave enveloped her body. She stumbled, half-blind, into warmer air and rain pelted her as lightning flashed across the sky.
Kat collapsed into the mud. Laying on her side, rain washed over her face, melting the ice from her eyes. Her vision sharpened and she stared at her right hand still wrapped around the pistol. Her frozen index finger rested precariously on the trigger yet she couldn’t lift it off. Her ears popped fiercely, prompting her to spasm, and the weapon discharged into the mud. The ground around her felt warm and soft. She could easily fall asleep here. “G-get up, Kat,” she stuttered. Her body refused to listen.
Another sharp boom echoed overhead. The rumble and rain caused tremors in the muddy earth. The mist inside will clear. They’ll approach the bathroom cautiously. They’ll see I’m gone. They’ll backtrack through the building and come outside after me. I’ve got to get out of this alley.
She struggled to her knees. The side alley she knelt in ran the length of the bunkhouse with exits on both ends. To her right was the way to the Strip. That’s probably where they’ll come from. She rose and wobbled several steps to lean against the tenement wall. She was shivering again. Her feet felt like she was standing on thousands of pins. Every shift was a lesson in agony and the pain made her dizzy. Kat gritted her teeth and placed one foot in front of the other.
Twenty grueling steps carried her to the back end of the alley. The rain pelted harder as the wind’s intensity grew. Her clothes thawed under the downpour and the ice in her hair turned to sleet that leaked an arctic trail down her back. She scanned the side street at the alley’s mouth. It was a narrow, muddy lane barely an aircar’s length wide. The thunderstorm had driven all lingering pedestrians inside.
Kat teetered out of the alley and turned east, toward the Beggar’s Market. The street ran parallel to the Strip. If the unpaved lane didn’t end, she could follow it the few blocks to the market before cutting over. Her legs were beginning to steady but the pain in her feet refused to subside. Still, she pushed herself as fast as she could knowing that another round with Tears would surely finish her.
She limped past two children tucked inside the tapered entrance of a dilapidated brick building. The arch over the door provided a measure of shelter against the weather. Lightning ripped blazing gashes in the heavens above and a deluge continued to pour down. The prickling sensations in her feet spread to her hands. She could finally control her index finger and moved it off the Jamison’s trigger.
She crossed an intersection safely and then a second one. The rain seemed to turn cold, like daggers of ice stabbing her. Kat’s vision blurred again and each breath became more labored than the last. The world began to tilt onto its side. She lurched into another alley and leaned against the wall to keep from toppling over. Gusts whipped the rain over the street but the alley wall gave her shelter. She wiped at her face, trying to clear her vision. Her hair hung in sopping strands, no longer shards of ice. She ran the swollen fingers of her left hand through it to sweep it from her eyes. They were a bright red, nearly cherry in color.
“You can’t stay here!” cried a man’s voice from deeper inside the alley.
Kat turned awkwardly and saw a family of four huddled under a tarp strung over a makeshift, cardboard shelter. In the shelter’s center, a fire barrel blazed. Her eyes locked onto a wide-eyed girl of five. Beside the waif, her father stood brandishing a metal rod. The man’s eyes flicked from Kat to her pistol and his face grew tight.
“Please, don’t hurt them. Take what you want.”
Kat shook her head, not trusting her voice at first. “I-I’m not here to h-hurt you.” She no longer slurred but her words came out in stammers. “Just g-give me a minute and I’ll m-move on, okay?” She tucked her left hand into her armpit. The diminishing warmth from her core did little to ease the pins shooting through her fingers. Her body shivered uncontrollably again and her legs began to sag. Kat wondered if Tears had killed her after all.
“Daddy, she’s cold,” the little girl said. The child took a brave step toward Kat and asked, “Do you want to share the fire?” She was barefoot in the mud.
“Ivy!” her mother scolded while reaching for her child.
Unperturbed, the girl boasted, “I helped Daddy make it to dry us out.” She waved Kat forward. “Come on, it’s a good one.”
Kat looked to Ivy’s parents. “P-please?” Her vision narrowed to a darkening tunnel. She fought to remain upright until tiny hands pulled on the hem of her shirt. Sliding along the brick wall in fits and spurts, Kat let herself be led to the shelter. Halfway there, stronger hands wrapped around her waist.
“May I take your gun, please?” the man asked softly. “I’ll give it back when you leave.”
Kat fought to release her grip but failed. Her body screamed to lay down. Her lower lip quivered. “I d-don’t think I can d-drop it.”
She reached the fire barrel only through the man’s support. Its warmth bathed her body. The heat coaxed her back from semi-consciousness as its embrace brought tears of relief to her eyes.
“Here.” The mother held out a steaming cup.
Kat took the offering like a penitent and tilted her head over the hot cup. Bits of wild licorice root floated in the tea. Glycyrrhiza lepidota, she recalled, her mind clipping off its scientific name from Reynolds’ plethora of medical journals. She sipped the hot liquid and heat rushed to her core. “Thank you… so much,” she gasped.
“Dad, is that a gun?” A bo
y, older than his sister although not by much, stood next to his father.
The fire and tea performed miracles for Kat. She pried her fingers from the pistol’s grip, released the magazine and offered the empty Jamison to the man. “I’ll need it back when I leave.”
The father took control of the gun with an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you. You can stay here until the storm passes.”
Another sip from her cup stoked the burgeoning fire in her core. “No, I need to get moving soon.” The collateral damage of one Trodden family would mean nothing to Tears. She drained the tea and offered the mother the empty cup. “Just a couple of minutes and then I’ll go.”
The waif, still holding the hem of Kat’s shirt, asked, “What’s your name? I’m Ivy.”
Kat placed a clumsy hand on the child, ignoring the driving pain of needles her simple action caused. “Kat. It’s nice to meet you, Ivy. Thank you for the fire, it is a good one.”
The girl’s chest puffed out proudly and she smiled.
The fire hissed and crackled as if acknowledging the compliment. Shattered pieces of wood along its edges cradled two large lumps of coal at its heart. A stinking black cloud collected under the tarp roof before gently rolling off the sides and into the rain. Kat moved her hands closer to the heat, desperate to regain more function.
“What happened to your hands?” Ivy’s brother asked. “Looks like you stuck them in a fire ant nest.”
Kat remained silent, soaking in the warmth. It was past time to go. Every second she lingered placed this family in greater danger. She reluctantly stepped away from the fire. Her body still shivered but it was no longer in its death throes. She looked down at Ivy before kneeling unsteadily. “Thank you, Ivy. I think you saved my life.” She retrieved the Jamison’s magazine from the alley floor.
