Scout bit her tongue. Answering now would be a bad idea. She needed to find the door; her fingers danced along the seams of metal. Each fall and rise told her she had to be getting closer to an exit. She had to be.
“Is it just that teenager thing?” Sienna called. “'I'm young and angry and just wanna cause some chaos because I'm super angsty?'” She made a mocking voice the whole time. “That'd make sense.” From the sound she had to be twenty, thirty feet away. And, if she kept talking, that'd cover the sound Scout was making trying to feel her way to an exit.
There. Scout's fingers found something, a raised edge of metal. Slick, greasy – a garage door track. The floor dipped here, as well. A loading dock? Had to be.
“See, I understand angsty feelings,” Sienna said. “I know what you're thinking, SS. You're thinking – she's sooooo old compared to my five-year-old, still-sucking-pacifier ass. But I'm really only 26. Which is probably, like, dust, to you. You kids today with your TikTok videos and Tide Pod challenges. I understand what it's like to not have a fully developed pre-frontal cortex. It wasn't that long ago for me. And I don't know if they teach you this in school, but I've done a fair amount of damage myself. Never lit a whole state on fire, but hey...I got years left to live and a propensity to wreak havoc. It could still happen.”
“We're not trying to 'wreak havoc,'” Scout said, the words coming out in a rush. “We're trying to do what you should be doing, so-called hero – save the world. To get us to zero emissions before everything goes straight to hell.”
She'd said too much; Scout reached down and grabbed the door, wrenching it upward. It made contact against some lock or other stopping mechanism, but it was ill-prepared for her metahuman strength. The door smashed through the stoppage and kept going, tearing off the track and knocking over another series of shelves. Scout had ducked under it before it had even left the track, and was sprinting out into the clear, smoky day.
“Hold it right there.”
Scout turned; somehow, Nealon was right behind her, squinting into the watery daylight, the air around them carrying a fiercely brown tinge. She had frozen right where she stood, only twenty feet from the edge of the building.
Nealon was waiting in the door, framed against the warehouse's darkness, hand raised and glowing blue. Her new ice powers that everyone on the 'net was talking about. She had her finger cocked like a gun, pointed right at Scout's chest.
“You going to shoot me as I'm running away?” Scout asked. She turned her head so she could look at her with both eyes, but didn't feel like doing her the “honor” of full-on facing her. Not when she'd need to run again shortly.
“My weapon won't kill you,” Nealon said, expression as icy as the light glowing off her fingers. “But you are going in. I don't know what your game is, but you can't cause this much chaos without answering for it.”
“I'm trying to do the job you won't,” Scout said. “I'm trying to save the world from the threat you won't tackle. Because you're owned by corporate interests.”
“Listen, I have spent a very hard year making sure that no one has the property rights to my ass but me,” Nealon snapped. “Get down on your knees, hands above your head, or get ready to experience the kind of brain freeze that you haven't felt since you tried to cram a whole cone into your face at age six.”
“This world is going to end soon,” Scout said, turning her face partially away, staring at the dry, dusty pavement. “And you don't even care.”
Nealon rolled her eyes. “Now you're just talking crazy. All right, enjoy your frozen heart, Anna–”
The sonic boom jarred Scout, making her unsteady on her legs, but it blew Nealon back a few steps. Scout felt strong arms gripping her under her sleeves, and Isaac whispered, “Hold on–”
And they were gone, the ground disappearing beneath them in but a moment, the dark clouds and sky surrounding them, feel of the smoky wind brushing past her face and the pull of gravity on her bones as Isaac took her rattling across the sky.
“That was Sienna Nealon,” Scout said, once they were away. “Did you see, Isaac? Did you see her?”
“I saw,” Isaac said tightly. “I was hoping she wouldn't come into this.” She couldn't hear him draw his deep breath, but felt it, warm, across the back of her neck against the frigid chill of the winds battering her. “But we'll deal with it, my dear. We'll deal with it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sienna
“Troublemakers are away,” I shouted, running around the corner of the building, back toward the road, brushing the teary feeling out of my eyes. The guy with the flight powers had bowled me over with a sonic boom when he'd landed, and by the time I'd gotten back up he was gone, disappeared into the cloud cover in a trick worthy of...well, me. When I needed to hide my flight paths.
“We got a man down over here!” Augustus's voice reached me as I pounded around the corner, sprinting back toward the highway. There were cop cars stitched with bullet holes and burnt black scorch marks. One of them was even on fire, probably from electrical overload.
I steered toward Augustus's voice, though he was kneeling over a fallen figure.
My heart dropped.
It was Reed.
“Reed, Reed!” I shouted, leaping over the small ditch at the edge of the road and landing next to my brother. His eyes were closed, but as I landed he evinced pain, cringing and opening an eye.
“Not so loud, please,” Reed moaned. “I just got slammed in the back by our flyer. Pretty sure he broke something important. Like my spine.”
I seized his fallen hand, lifting it up. “Can you feel this?”
Reed opened his eyes and looked at my hand, grasping his. “Yes. And I'd like you to stop before it begins burning, please.”
“Sorry.” I dropped his hand, then grabbed his shoe and lifted his leg a few inches off the ground. “What about that?”
“Couldn't you just rest a hand on his knee instead of moving the man all around?” Augustus asked, frowning.
“Jamal?” I called.
“Watching your six,” Jamal's voice came from somewhere behind me. He sounded like he was moving, eye on the sky.
“Good,” I said, and squeezed my brother's leg. “Can you feel that? Or no?”
“I feel it,” Reed moaned. “Do you know how strong you are?”
“This is good,” I said, letting go. “Your spinal cord is intact. Still, better safe than sorry – neck board, stretcher, you need all that.”
“I'm sure an ambulance will be along any minute now,” Reed said acidly. “Because they're definitely not busy, oh, I don't know, everywhere else in this corner of the state right now.” He waved a hand at me. “I'm just going to lay here and heal.”
“Need a blanket or something?” I asked, really cringing. “Reed, I'm sorry, I–”
“Not your fault,” he said. “I should have seen that guy coming. He snuck up on me, though. Adjusted his airspeed down so I wouldn't feel him ripping through while I was all distracted.” He started to shake his head, then stopped, making a pained, guttural noise. “Yeah. Something's broken from that hit.”
“We're going to get him,” I said. “We'll rally and go after–”
“That's a bad idea,” Augustus said. “How we going to chase a flyer?” He lowered his voice. “Because you can't fly right now, remember?”
I swore under my breath. “Visibility's low anyway,” I said. “I probably couldn't track shit in this smoke.”
“Now you're talking sense,” Reed said. “That flyer picked a staging area nearby based on how quick he was able to pick up and drop off. Now that he's got his team assembled, he's probably already moving them off, moving 'em out. He's faster than the speed of sound, too, so if he can find a way to move them all at once...”
“Every minute we're sitting here he's adding miles to the search radius,” I finished for him. “Radar really can't track them. We're relying on tips from the public.”
“Yeah,” Reed said. “Or satellite imagery?”
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“Not in this smoke,” Jamal chimed in. “Not a chance.”
“They got away, then,” I said, my hand still resting on my brother's shoulder. “They won this round.” I felt my gaze turn steely. “But this isn't over. Not by a long damned shot.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Scout
“Man,” AJ said, head back against a pine tree, “I thought that was going to go a little more...like, our way, y'know?”
The four of them were tucked away in a thick copse of trees on a mountain in South Dakota. Scout knew because she'd checked their position on her phone's GPS. This had been their second stop. The first had been a small thicket, just a quick jump out of the fight. From there Isaac had taken them here, one at a time, a few hundred miles away.
“I know,” Francine said softly, all stretched out on a bed of pine needles, her black hair thick with a couple needles caught in the strands. “I figured we'd fight 'em off or something.” She kicked a leg idly, face turning petulant. “I really wanted to give it to those pigs, you know? Thought we'd roast 'em.”
“Not once Nealon showed up,” Isaac said, shaking his head. “There's a thing you have to understand about her.” His expression turned hard. “Anytime she shows up, we should run.”
Francine sat up, indignant. “Run? Just run?”
Isaac nodded. “Run.”
Francine threw her hands up. “I thought you were going to do something here, man. I thought we were going to–”
“If we get killed by Sienna Nealon,” Isaac said calmly, “we're going to do a whole lot of nothing.”
Francine looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn't say anything. Just set her jaw sullenly and turned away.
Isaac swept his gaze over each of them in turn. “AJ...you did good.”
AJ, who'd been watching the exchange between Isaac and Francine, gave a short nod. “You're right about the running, man. How many did she have with her?”
“Four,” Scout said, piecing it all together. “The lightning guy Francine fought, the wind guy overhead – I think that's her brother, the earth guy that you went up against, and Nealon herself.” This was the first time she'd spoken since they'd gotten to this spot.
Isaac nodded. “I know what you're thinking, Francine,” and he turned to her. “Even odds, right?”
Francine just looked at the ground with a sullen glare. Didn't bother answering. She probably knew what he was going to say.
“Maybe it would have been,” Isaac said. “But I don't think so. Because the four of them – they kill people for a living. People like us.” He pressed a hand against his chest. “You know what I mean?”
“They're the oppressors,” AJ said. “Holding down anyone that would stand up to big oil.”
“They're the agents of order,” Isaac said. “Trying to keep back the tide of change. Panicking when they see a little dot of chaos on the horizon. They sit in their comfortable offices waiting for someone to stick their head up, do something that catches the eye of the powerful. Then they descend like a hawk on a mouse.” He smiled. “But we just struck a hell of a blow. Against big oil. Against the government that enables it.” He raised a clenched fist in front of his face. “There are four of us – for now. Sienna Nealon and the cops? They have way more. They can afford to lose some soldiers.” Isaac squatted next to Francine and touched her shoulder. “I can't afford to lose any of you.”
Scout felt a quiver, a little tear in her eye.
“We did what we set out to do,” Isaac said, smiling. “We struck the first blow. We'll strike more. But don't think I'm ever going to throw your lives away. Not against her. Not if I can avoid it.” He brushed Francine's shoulder again, then stood, sucking in a long breath. “Get some sleep. I'm going to look around a little, see if I can find something to expedite our trip south. We'll move after nightfall.” He gestured to the sky above. “Don't want anyone to see us heading to the next target, after all. I want this to be a surprise.”
With a rueful grin, Isaac looked right at Scout, and she felt a shudder deep down in her belly. The meeting of their eyes only lasted a moment, and then he was gone, rocketing into the sky, up into a cloud bank.
The feeling persisted for Scout, though, as she leaned against a tree and closed her eyes, wondering, worrying, when – or maybe even if, she thought desperately – he'd be back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Sienna
“How's your back?” I asked. The SUV was moving along, away from the scene, toward our hotel in a town called Tioga.
Reed lay across the middle seat, I was shotgun, and the Coleman brothers sat in the back. Our driver now was not Leon, thankfully, because he was being questioned in depth about what he'd done during the fight. His role was being filled by a quiet lady named Barb from North Dakota's Bureau of Criminal Investigation, whose last name I'd already forgotten but who looked like she'd been around the policing block a time or twelve.
“Better,” Reed said, shifting his frame on the seat. He cringed as he did so, and I could tell the pain was going to be with him until his body healed. “You?”
“I'm fine,” I said, looking past him to Jamal and Augustus. “What about you two?”
“Oh, I'm all right,” Augustus said. “Looking forward to a shower when I get to the hotel.” I must have made a face, because he added to that. “It's the sweat. And...I always kinda feel like I need one after I armor up.”
Jamal looked up. “Can't you control dirt down to the particulate level?”
“Yeah, but...I still feel dirty afterward,” Augustus said, looking uncomfortable with his neurosis.
“Any moves?” Reed asked, fixing his attention on me. “To be made, I mean?”
I shrugged. “Our villains flew the coop. Half the damned state is on fire, it feels like. How many wells?” For this, I looked to Barb.
She grunted noncommittally. “A lot.”
“There you have it,” I said. “This has got to be the largest act of eco-terrorism since...ever, maybe?”
Augustus leaned forward. “You think it's eco-terrorism?”
“She as much as admitted it to me,” I said. “Talked about getting to zero emissions ASAP. Jamal, what was your impression of the lightning lady?”
“That she was a hardcore embracer of the Wiccan religion,” Jamal said. He must have noticed the silence that followed, and looked up. “She cackled a lot as she flung lightning around. Reminded me of the wicked witch of the whatever. 'Cept she didn't call me, 'My Pretty.'”
“Cuz you ain't pretty,” Augustus said.
“That's a flat-out lie,” I said. “You're very handsome, Jamal.”
“Thanks,” Jamal said without feeling.
“What now?” Reed asked. “Other than Augustus getting a shower to soothe his neurotic mind.”
“Oh, hell no, you did not just call me out on my weird thing,” Augustus said.
“I don't know,” I said. “We're still on North Dakota's payroll, right, Barb?”
She grunted. Sounded like affirmation, but it was hard to tell.
“I kinda doubt these clowns are going to stick around,” I went on. “Not if they know what's good for them. And they didn't make their last stand here, so it seems like they have at least some self-preservation instinct.”
“Yeah,” Reed said, “they could have tried to go out in a blaze of glory.”
“Doesn't that kind of cut against the idea of them being eco-terrorists?” Augustus asked. “Wouldn't it require them to be a little more...fanatical or something?”
“A guy flew his body into me at a hundred miles an hour,” Reed said. “However much the worst of it I got, I guarantee you he's feeling it at least a little. There's some fanaticism there.”
“If you're careful about it, hitting someone really hard and fast hurts them a lot more than it hurts you,” I said, the voice of experience in mid-air collisions. “I mean, you generally want to avoid bone-on-bone, if you can, but–”
“What next?�
� Augustus asked, apparently uninterested. “Because to me it looks we got two choices – hang around here and help with cleanup or stay on target and go after these yahoos?”
“Reed's in charge,” I said quickly.
Apparently a little too quickly. He looked at me through narrowed eyes, but didn't say anything as the SUV continued to bump along the North Dakota highway. I couldn't tell if he was pissed at me and holding back, or just in pain.
CHAPTER FORTY
The hotel was more of a motel, the roadside sort that could be found on just about any reasonably populated offramp in America. Coast to coast there had to be thousands of these things, and I was particularly familiar with this breed from my days on the run. Free, mediocre continental breakfast buffet in the mornings, a central lobby with seating for that daily event, and occasionally a bar, if one were very lucky. Terrible décor, long-suffering front desk clerks that got progressively weirder with each shift until reaching peak weirdness on the overnights – yep, across America, these places were much the same.
I was about as settled in as I could be without a single change of clothes or anything in the way of toiletries when a knock at my door prompted me to look up from my phone, which I'd been fiddling with. “Who is it?” I called; I hadn't heard the footsteps.
“Augustus,” the voice came back.
I hurriedly opened the door for him and he strode in, reminding me again of the massive height differential between us. “Are you shorter in my dreams?” I asked.
He made a sour face. “I think so. Obviously not something I'm responsible for, though I would argue it just concentrates my good looks over less square footage.”
I snickered. “What's up?”
“I had an idea I wanted to run by you,” Augustus said, looking around furtively, “being as we're stuck here for the night.”
“If it involves going out drinking, you can mark me as 'no.' Similarly if it involves bar fighting, because while I always have your back, you really ought to be able to handle a few local drunks on your own.”
Second Guess (The Girl in the Box Book 39) Page 12
