Encrypted

by Weaver, Nicole

  How did I end up in the middle of a war zone telling people the Heroes will save them? Life is weird man. Absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck, she allowed the door to shut quietly behind the last student. I hope Jon doesn't use this as an excuse for extra therapy, he hates it when I talk to the cops.

  The front of the bus was half melted and covered in dents where thrown car parts had failed to punch through. The path out was worse, the bus door, as it had been a half hour before, was now a tunnel of bent metal and shattered glass.

  I'd already heard Honeydew wasn't someone to be messed with, but no one told me she could rip the axle off a fricken school bus...without tipping it over.

  A cloud of smoke lingered outside, billowing intermittently from the torn cars and smoking tires littering the area. I hope we don't get lung cancer or something.

  "Trevor, hey, are you hurt?" She pitched her voice to carry, but hopefully not too far. More of a glorified whisper.

  "I'm...here."

  She moved down the twisted metal tunnel until she could see Trevor's feet in the fog, protruding from a shelter made by a demolished car and the bus.

  "Good." She hissed. "Are you fucking insane? You've been out there for like five minutes. Scorch is going to turn you into charcoal if he sees you. It sucks, but Miss Clarke proved my point—Nulls can't fight Primes, we just die." She broke into a coughing fit.

  Voice dry and cracking from smoke, he hissed back. "What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you! I can't leave her to die and I'm not a Null, or did you forget already?"

  "Untrained, and without a combat power, you might as well be a Null." She said, softer now. "Please come back inside. You said it yourself, we have to leave before he comes for us, too."

  The smoke cleared a bit, revealing the rest of Trevor, leaning heavily against the trunk of the car, holding his arms like a sling, cradling a roughly human-sized lump that moaned softly. I'm so sorry Miss Clarke, but I don't know how to save you.

  "She's not dead, and I'm not going to leave her to die. I'm going to join a team and I will not let this shit go unpunished. I will not let—" His voice broke as he trailed off, his head drooping down.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, the sound coming from all directions. One sported the added warble of an incoming Hero Team. Fuck, it's about time. Sketchy bastards probably stopped for take-out.

  Samantha scanned the area for threats, then crawled the rest of the way out of the bus. Jon is going to kill me if I talk to the swarm of badges heading this way, and Scorch is going to kill us both if he notices us. I can't stay, and Trevor shouldn't either.

  "If Scorch notices you messing with his victim, he is going to kill you and then move on to the rest of the kids. Look, I'm glad she isn't dead yet, but you are completely out of your league here and other people are depending on you." This is just another reason why we can't be together. Some day you will go out and you won't come home, because you were a Hero long before you got your powers.

  He whispered back, his voice raw. "I can't leave Sam, I'm the only thing keeping her alive. What kind of person, or Hero, would I be if I did?" He didn't look up. "You go and be safe. I will find you when this is over."

  Hot, angry, tears rolled down her cheeks. He made his choice, and just like before, it wasn't me.

  The empty bus slowed her down. Every time she wiped her eyes she tripped over a random backpack or slipped on loose papers. Moving as swiftly as she could manage, Samantha slipped out the back and hurried across the smoking street.

  A thorny hedge surrounded the temple. It was about four feet tall and manicured to look like a wall. Visibly separating the church from the rest of the city, it also offered a bit of cover from the battlefield behind her.

  Samantha took it at a full run and throwing herself over it, but one foot caught on the back edge and she belly-flopped into the dirt on the other side.

  "Ahh! Please don't kill me." A dark-haired freshman girl scrambled away.

  She'd landed inches away from the poor girl.

  "I'm sorry." Samantha said, rolling over and scooting a short distance away.

  The girl huddled there, pale and shaking. Nothing I can do to calm her down, and she's actually about the right amount of terrified.

  In some places, near the bottom of the hedge, the branches were bare enough to see through without being seen herself. Samantha inched her way into the nearest vantage point.

  The street looked even worse from this angle, more like the remains of a bombing run than anything you would expect to see in Arbor City, Idaho. Or like the house down the street last month when Blake's dad Manifested. He didn't make it.

  Most of the fires were dwindling; there less smoke and almost no flames, though it was still thick around the front of the bus. Even the burning tire fires elsewhere were dying out. That's odd, those things should go for hours.

  Faintly visible, Trevor was still wedged among the wreckage, cradling poor Miss Clarke to his chest. Above him, a shadow moved out of the smoke.

  Scorch stepped into the light, goggles in place and mask loose around his neck. The woman, slung over his shoulder and held in place with one hand, didn't move. He glanced around but didn't seem to notice Trevor and Miss Clarke a few feet to the side.

  His bass rumble reached across the street. "You kids stay safe now, ya hear? You got off easy, but next time it might be your turn to burn." His turned and strolled back out of sight, slapping his mask into place with one quick movement.

  Is he whistling? What a monster.

  Samantha turned to the other girl. "He's gone and I don't think he's coming back. I need you to get to the main temple building and tell anyone you find along the way that it's safe to run as long as they stay on this side of the road."

  The girl nodded and burst into a frantic loping run through the cluster of buildings behind them.

  Samantha watched her go, then followed a different route. Dumb hiding spot, but cute, quick, and good use of cover while running. I like her.

  The sirens had seemingly stopped moving a block away, at the overpass. If they hurry and finish their cheeseburgers, they can catch the bastard before he escapes.

  Huddled behind the first small building, at least half the kids from the bus, and a couple of stray cats, sat. They looked like they'd been there a while. I did it. I saved them. Her smile wilted. I wish Miss Clark had come with us.

  A boy from her class, Frank if she remembered right, crawled to his feet. "Thank you for saving us. We needed a Hero today, and it was you."

  The other teenagers nodded their heads nervously, offering brittle smiles.

  Samantha flinched, the remains of her sad smile sliding off her face entirely. I am not a Hero. I will never be a Hero. "Idiots. I told you to scatter. He could have nailed all of you in one blast." The sirens still weren't moving closer. What are they doing now, handing out the fries? Hurry up and get these people off my hands.

  Sitting against the wall, a freshman boy started to cry, burying his head in his arms. A couple of girls quickly followed; almost everyone else looked seconds away from a breakdown.

  There I go again, putting my foot in my mouth. "Hey, it's okay, he's gone. This was a bad spot to hide, but it's safe now and the cops are almost here."

  No one looked at her.

  "Did anyone call 911 yet?" Samantha asked. "It will help if the cops know where we are so they can keep the Heroes from accidentally nuking us or something." That did it. Most of the rest burst into tears. If I fell apart this easily, I wouldn't have survived the orphanage.

  Samantha planted herself in front of Frank. "You—Frank, right? Call 911 and tell them exactly where you are hiding. Everyone else should stay here and be quiet until rescued."

  She paused. "Don't tell them I was here. I don't want the cops making a big deal about me or someone calling me a Hero." The word left a metallic taste on her lips. Or my therapist finding out I talked to the cops. He's really insistent about that.

  Frank wiped at
his tears and pulled out his phone. "Are you insane? I can't lie to the police, and especially not the Heroes." His skin tone already matched the color of his white dress shirt, and his hands shook so hard his flip phone bounced free to land in the grass.

  I hate doing this, but no one gets to call me a Hero, ever. "Yes, I want you to lie to anyone who asks. I want all of you to leave me out of this, and give Trevor the credit for getting you off the bus. He's already the school hero anyway. Hell, he's over trying to save poor crispy Clarke right now."

  Someone threw up.

  Yeah, that might have been a little too graphic, but they are safer if they're scared. It keeps me safe most days.

  "All of you, listen up. If you tell anyone I was here, I'm going to empty the skeletons out of your closet. Frank, you boned Debbie all year long in the janitor's closet. I bet your mom would flip to find out all about it. The rest of you have secrets too, and you know I make a point of getting revenge when people piss me off. So don't." Sorry Frank, but you kinda threw yourself under this bus.

  He slumped against the building, managing a jerky nod and went back to trying to keep his phone steady enough to use. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I won't tell anyone you were here. You don't have to be so mean."

  No one else seemed interested in challenging her. One last use for that High School Rep I spent so much time building. "I'm going to check on Trevor and Miss Clarke. Nobody follow me, it's too dangerous."

  No one did.

  The smoke was already thinning out, revealing the desolate and empty street, and a few remaining trees and bushes on the other side where the fight hadn't quite reached. It felt...dangerous. As if someone was watching, but no one was in sight and Scorch had already left.

  Trevor didn't look up as she approached. Lines of pink skin snaked their way through the ash and soot coating his face, stopping at his chin. He hadn't moved at all since she'd seem him last. There was only charred flesh where his tears landed on the charred face of the woman he held so carefully.

  Damn it, I liked her. She was always nice to us, even when some of us were being obnoxious. It's the good ones who do something brave and stupid, I guess. "The kids are safe, so I'm going to get out of here. You might want to let go of Miss Clarke though. Those kids are pretty messed up and could use some help right now."

  The sirens picked up suddenly, barreling down the large road like they had just realized they had a job to do. Fire engines, squad cars, and a Prime team in howling harmony.

  "Don't be a bitch, Gray, she might have saved all our lives today. Did you at least call in that we have wounded?" His haunted eyes slid up to her face. "She's going to need immediate intensive care. I'm the only thing keeping her alive right now."

  "Seriously? I'm glad she's still kicking, but she might not thank you for keeping her alive through burns like that." She shifted gears. "I have to get out of here, before the rescue squad shows up and calls the foster monsters. Talking to the cops is a big no-no with my therapist and they always take his side, so if you could leave me out of your statement, I'd be super grateful." She turned to leave.

  "Gray…Samantha, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't help you," he said.

  She stopped but didn't turn around.

  "You made me promise not to tell anyone how Jon treats you, but I almost did anyway. It hurts knowing he's abusing you and I'm not allowed to help. Especially when you know my dad can help you." His shaky voice cracked. "Is that the real reason you left me? Because you handed me an impossible play, and I fumbled?"

  She looked back to see he was staring at her, fresh tears streaming down his face. I'm sorry. I don't know how to save anyone. Not Miss Clarke, not even myself. Maybe some people are born to be Heroes. I wasn't.

  He waited for an answer.

  Samantha bit her lip, hardening her resolve. You wouldn't care about me if you knew what I really am, Heroes only care about people who are like them. "Things are complicated Trev. Sometimes that's just how it is. No one can save me, not you, and not your dad. If I'm careful and lucky, maybe someday I can save myself."

  Jon's house was on the other side of the bus; the same direction Scorch had gone. She resigned herself to the long way around. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

  Mercifully, she was able to hold back her own tears until she’d put the corner between them.

  Chapter 5

  Wednesday May 19th, 2010

  Samantha stopped in the shadow of a white minivan and dropped to one knee, pretending to retie her favorite bedazzled sneakers. They'd been blue once, before she'd painstakingly glued on enough cheap plastic gems to turn them pink.

  The cops are going to be searching for Scorch, but it would be just like one of those little brats to send them after me too. I can't run either. It's suspicious and showing up sweaty from running the whole way is going to bring questions. Time for a disguise.

  Her green gym shirt was stuffed into the top of her backpack. It slipped over her head easily, and was large enough to fit over the t-shirt she was already wearing. It's not much, but might throw them off long enough for me to get to Jon's house. I swear, if I get an extra session with Kevin after all this effort, I'm going to be so pissed.

  Using her makeup mirror, and some leftover bottled water, she cleaned the worst of the soot and grime off her face.

  While she worked, a small crowd formed along the sidewalk nearby. People gathering to point at the pillar of black smoke still rising in the afternoon sky. People concerned about how bad it would be this time.

  Most of those prone to worry had already moved out of the big cities. The potential for every Prime Fight to spiral into widespread destruction was simply too much for them. Primes still appeared outside the cities of course, but those most likely to fight moved to where the action was. Places like Arbor City.

  A squad car turned onto the street from the direction of the shattered bus. A single officer, a woman, was alone behind the wheel. She didn't look around, or stop, as she cruised past the crowd.

  As soon as the cop was gone, Samantha hurried across the grass behind the clusters of people. Maybe they caught him, and that's why the cops are so chill.

  At the edge of the crowd, near a pair of portly middle-aged men, she stopped to scan the sky in a full circle. There was only the one cloud of smoke. I expect he won't go without a fight, so I guess he got away.

  "Maybe it's a Daemon attack. Idaho hasn't had one in a while," One of the men said.

  "Carl, you know it's gotta be a Prime battle this deep in the city and Starstuff doesn't care about property damage, so the smoke says it's probably them," the second guy said.

  "How you figure all that Harry?" Carl said.

  "If it were a Daemon fighting its way in, there'd be a line of smoke instead of one cloud, so it isn't a Daemon. The PCA is mostly regular people who care about property and due process, so they are more careful. Those Starstuff hacks only care about fame and glory," Harry said.

  "Whatever bruh, you always believe the propaganda." Carl sighed. "The PCA hasn't done anything to clean up this city, unless you count keeping themselves off the street. Starstuff is getting their hands dirty and trying to make things better."

  Samantha kept her head down as she strolled past them. All their hands are dirty, villainizing anyone who doesn't do things their way. Dropping people they don't like into Supermax Prime, a black site prison by any other name is just as evil. Samantha broke into a jog once the sidewalk was clear. Ahead, the foster monster's block waited.

  "Maybe, but that new guy on the team is like a wrecking ball with an attitude. I know you heard what he did in California—" Harry’s voice faded as she left them behind.

  Instead of going directly to Jon's house, she turned and went around to the street behind his. You would think a nice house with a basement all to myself and an allowance, when I had one, would be great for a teenager. Turns out the people you live with, and how they treat you, matters more than all the rest.

  The back neighbor's driveway w
as empty, as usual at this hour.

  Their well-manicured lawn and freshly painted house gave them a safe and cozy feel. Moving like she lived there, she followed the driveway into the back yard and collapsed gratefully beneath their huge oak tree. Over the shared fence waited Jon's back yard. I'm not ready to face that yet.

  Unzipping her belt pouch, Samantha pulled free a plastic baggie with some pepperoni in it. Leftovers from lunch she'd saved for her friends.

  A pair of cats crawled out from under the porch and they both sauntered over to investigate their visitor, sniffing for the treats they quickly devoured. Neither cat had ever worn collars that she'd seen, but they acted like it was their yard.

  The smaller black cat she'd named Samwise, since it always followed the larger one. The bigger cat, a black and white Siamese, seemed to have been on an epic journey—it was missing part of its front paw and sporting a huge scar across its left eye. She'd named that one Frodo.

  Frodo had growled and swiped at her the first few times she'd visited, but it had calmed down after she started bribing it with leftover bits from her lunches. Samwise had shown up a month later, looking for cuddles and pets. Now they both sat regally, eyes closed, accepting chin scratches with purring contentment.

  I can’t go by Laserbird, it makes it sound like I get chased by cats and shoot lasers out of my butt. Besides, I retreated from my first battle with that code name. Phoenix Star sounds better.

  Samwise head-butted her hand until she scratched him behind his ears.

  Local Villains, unknowing of who they were messing with, attacked the supply convoy on its final trip through the war-torn land. They'd dodged retribution for now, but some day there would be a reckoning.

  "I wish things were more exciting like today. Dodging Jon's rages and my sketchy therapist's creepy attentions is not the kind of crap I want to deal with." Samwise crawled into her lap to acquire even more scratches, yowling when she didn’t offer any fast enough. She sighed. I can't have human friends, but at least the kitties understand me.