Encrypted

by Weaver, Nicole

  Jon had read up on teenage relationships, decided Trev was a threat to the future he wanted for Samantha, and by evening he'd had one of his bosses over for dinner to discuss her 'case'. Dr. Kevin Darkle had taken an immediate interest in Samantha, offering to work with her for free. He even agreed to help Mildred with her anxiety and writer's block.

  It had become a kind of cold war against Samantha, and a hot war against the idea of her having friends. A war fought with her therapist as the primary weapon. These days they keep their noses so far up my butt; it's shocking they can still breathe. Goosebumps broke out across Samantha's neck as she thought about Dr. Darkle.

  She kept her eyes on the floor as she trudged down the hall and stairs, scooping up her nearly empty backpack, which contained her precious smart phone. The pages of notes and random books were left where they had fallen. Protection, such as it was, at a price. My real phone is the only thing that matters in this place anyway.

  ****

  The Detective wasn't what Samantha had expected from her voice at the door. Scratchy and rough, Samantha expected a tall and powerfully built woman. Instead, the shortest officer she'd ever seen briskly took a seat at the dining room table. A pair of thin white scars ran from her right eye down to the tip of her nose, standing out against her dark olive skin.

  Jon and Mildred followed her into the room, but the Detective held up a hand, her voice soft and slow. "I would prefer to speak with the child alone."

  "Of course, officer." Jon raised his voice and spoke over her head. "Kevin's Rules Sam, answer the officer's questions."

  The Detective flinched but recovered quickly as they left.

  Does she chew rocks in her spare time? Maybe she's like this heavy chain-smoker, who beats up perps and forces confessions out of them. Dirty Mary...but she's so tiny. She looks like she would need backup to deal with an angry house cat. "I thought all cops had partners. It's kinda dangerous to wander around alone, with all the Villains showing up lately. I mean most go after Heroes, but some hate the cops too."

  Detective Miller's smile was sickly sweet, as if unfamiliar with the shape of a genuine smile. "Sam, I can operate alone whenever necessary and am more than capable of defending myself."

  "Don't call me that. My name's Samantha," she said.

  "Fine, Miss Gray. Please take a seat." The Detective’s face slid into a frown that seemed to be a more natural fit for her face.

  Samantha sat across from her.

  "Now, I dislike repeating myself, so be clear in your answers. I have two simple questions you are going to answer, or when I leave, you are going to be leaving with me." She leaned forward, looming over Samantha with more than height. "Why did you flee before the responding Heroes could arrive and secure the location? Did you take any photographs of the alleged Prime, or the crime scene?"

  Never show weakness, a lesson Phoenix Star had learned well. "Detective Miller, I also dislike repeating myself, so I am going to put it as simply as I possibly can. I do not have a camera phone. The camera on it broke a few months ago, and I was not given another."

  Eyeing her like a piece of meat, Detective Miller silently held out her hand.

  Samantha slid the beaten blue flip phone across the table, the lens long ago crushed and the outer glass removed. "I left because I do not like being interrogated, nor do I like being told what to do. You said yourself I haven't committed any crimes, so why are you here?"

  "My investigation is not complete until every witness has been interviewed. I am still here because you refused to cooperate by running away."

  Samantha tried to push back her dread, but it pressed against her chest like a physical thing. Please let this go. If any of those idiots from school mentioned my pink phone, the foster monsters are guaranteed to send me for more than just one extra session. I don't even know why a big shot at the Prime Research Facility likes to see me, especially since I am most definitely not a Prime. That was the first test he ran on me.

  The Detective examined the little phone, opening and closing it to check all its features, even going through the recent messages. Eventually she dropped it in the center of the table and made eye contact.

  I know she hates me already, but being a bitch is the best way to keep the foster monsters at bay. I tried passing a note to a grownup once, and Jon has never let me forget what a mistake that was. They always believe the adults.

  Samantha reached for the phone, but as she touched it, Detective Miller dropped a heavy hand down, trapping her.

  "Don't make me take you to the station child. I would rather not deal with the paperwork." Her eyes, cold and dark, held Samantha as surely as her grip. "You aren't giving me a tough time because I am of Indian descent, are you? I would take that very poorly. Very poorly indeed."

  What? No!

  Samantha slumped in her seat, dropping her eyes to the floor and giving her best defeated stare. "I'm sorry. It isn't that, I swear. I'm just scared we almost died. I promise I didn't take any pictures. Please don't arrest me." She trailed off, trying for a tear, but couldn't quite work one up.

  Studying her, the Detective finally nodded to herself. "Thank you for cooperating Miss Gray. That will be all."

  She pushed herself to her feet in a cloud of oiled leather and stale cigarette smoke, flipping on her radio as she stood. "Dispatch, this is D21, I'm finished with the interview."

  It pinged back. "Code 8P, Milwaukee and Fairview. D21, respond."

  "10-4, D21 responding."

  Detective Miller stalked through the living room, not slowing as she passed Jon and Mildred. "Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, I have all I need here. Call me with any further information, and I will call you if I have additional questions. Thank you for your cooperation."

  Samantha gestured to the stairs down to her room. "My plans are ruined for the evening, so I'm heading to bed." I wish I had plans. Hopefully this summer will have more fun and less explosions.

  No one stopped her.

  The foster monster's flip phone clattered across the desk and bounced off the wall as she searched for pajamas. Hoping it breaks, but the damn thing is resilient. The last thing she did was retrieve her pink smartphone from her backpack and slide under the sheet. The blue walls of her cell mocked her, but her life, and freedom would not be so easily stolen.

  S: Hey

  Trev: You all right?

  S: You told them about me. I thought we had an understanding

  Trev: Wait, you ordered me to lie to the Police AND the Heroes, and you thought I would? Are you nuts?

  Trev: Of course, I told them the truth, and I bet everyone else did too. Threatening people doesn't make them do what you want, it just makes them hate you more than they already do.

  S: Great. Well they came down and interrogated me and ruined my whole day. Thanks for that

  Trev: I would have thought the exploding bus and dying bus driver would ruin your day, but whatever.

  Trev: She is alive, BTW. I kept her breathing until they were able to stabilize her at the hospital.

  Trev: I know you hate it when people point out good things about you, and your attitude sucks worse than a rotten tomato right now, but you kept those kids safe. Thank you.

  S: I'm glad she is alive; don’t forget we are kids too. I thought she was dead for sure. I hope the burns aren't as bad as they looked

  Trev: I don't know how bad they are, but she didn't wake up the whole time, and they looked plenty bad enough.

  Trev: Look, I just wanted to check on you and let you know that I'm heading over to the PCA headquarters right now. They are going to keep me for a while to evaluate my power. Dad told them I saved Miss Clarke and they bumped me up the list.

  Trev: They are interviewing me tonight and then I have power testing to get through. Dreams coming true and all that. Please think about what I said. Night.

  S: Wow. Good luck. I guess you really are going to be a hero. You are too good for them but I'm glad you are chasing your dreams

  Samantha c
arefully shut down her smartphone and dropped it into its hidden pouch attached to the back of the nightstand. The room was meant to break her, but our Villain was made of sterner stuff.

  The bedroom door opened without a knock and the light flicked on, revealing Mildred, rather than Jon.

  One fist clenched in her lap, the other frozen into a claw above her nightstand, she held her breath. Phone? What phone?

  "Honey, you are frowning like a banshee. What's wrong?"

  Slowly, Samantha extracted her nails from the palm of her hand, fighting not to react to the pain. "Banshees scream Mildred, they don't frown."

  "I'm sure they frown while they scream honey." She padded the rest of the way into the room to gently perch on the edge of the bed. "I want to talk about what happened today. You seemed distraught, and you were rude to that policewoman."

  "Yes I'm distraught, Mildred." Samantha said. "The bus gets a light flambé with me still on it, the police chase me home, and Jon is making me to go to some weird camp for the emotionally disturbed with Kevin, despite my massive objections. To top it off, some bitch comes in and demands I prove to her I didn't take any pictures. As if that is a crime. What part of that sounds like I should be fine?"

  She glanced discretely at her hands, hidden by the comforter. The small crescents seeped a few drops of blood, but nothing too obvious. Phoenix Star knew her captors would inflict additional cruelties if they knew she had hurt herself.

  Mildred looked to the ceiling and sighed. "Sam, I meant about the bus. The rest of that isn't nearly as bad as you are making it out to be. Kevin came highly recommended and has helped you immensely with your defiance and anti-social disorder. Every time you come back, you are happier and listen better, for a few days at least. I don't know why you hate the idea of spending a few days with Kevin, but he says it is the absolute best thing for you."

  "I don't want to see him again." Samantha kept still. She'll say it's defiance if I get angry.

  "I don't know why not. I've been seeing him for a little while now, and I have never been happier." Mildred smiled.

  Samantha looked up. "Maybe that's why I don't want to see him anymore."

  Mildred's vacant smile didn't waver. "Kevin is offering world class care for free. Not only that, but you are responding well, without medications. Jon and I both would appreciate it if you stopped bad mouthing him quite so much."

  Her neck itched. "It's always what Dr. Darkle wants. It's what you want. It's what Jon wants. It isn't what I want. I want a job, and friends, and a life of my own. I want to be free to live, not constantly told how wrong I am. How broken and useless I am. You used to understand that."

  "Stop being dramatic." Mildred leaned over to give a warm, but perfunctory hug. "Go ahead and get some sleep honey. I'm sure you will feel better in the morning." She quietly padded from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Barely perceptible, her footsteps echoed quietly as she climbed the stairs.

  I really need to see Susan tomorrow. I don't like how excited everyone is, especially Dr. Darkle, about getting me alone with him.

  She snuck into the storage room furthest from her bedroom, stopping to listen to the vent under the living room.

  ****

  Jon's slightly slurred voice came through clearly. "You know, it takes a certain level of skill to drink wine as often as I do, but without a single stain to show for it. I just wish I had the same ability with children, even the defective ones that someone else screwed up."

  Soft footsteps traveled across the room to stop at the couch. "Why do you have to try to fix people? Maybe they aren't broken at all? I think I was okay before." Mildred said.

  "Sam will be off to camp soon," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Kevin assures me that defiant streak won't be an issue afterwards. I am quite ready to have an empty house for a few weeks...and a dutiful, obedient child soon after. Kevin gets to be happy, we get to be happy, everyone gets to be happy."

  Mildred's voice was quiet. "We didn't agree to foster a child to fix a broken kid. We were supposed to foster a child we could love and nurture."

  How broken I am is the last thing I want to hear, but I need to know their plans.

  "I am nurturing, but it's too late for the love stuff, not after all we've been through, and I told you why I wanted to choose Sam. You agreed at the time." Jon slurped from his glass.

  "I agreed there were children that needed guidance on the list you showed me, but that isn't what you are doing." Mildred said. "How can you be so sure everyone is happy with this? I mean, I am grateful Kevin has done so much for us, but Sam is so listless and wooden after a session. What if it makes everything worse?"

  "Hey, it's okay. We both see the improvement, and you are getting better too. Kevin is an accredited doctor, and widely regarded as the top expert for the kind of personality problems we are dealing with. It doesn't matter that he usually deals with Primes, they are just as human as we are, and the same kind of techniques work for them."

  "I guess, but you said it isn't entirely free," she whispered, her resistance crumbling easily.

  Jon slurped loudly on his wine. "It's fine. All he wants is a little more uninterrupted time with some of his most promising patients, and a security video erased now and then. It's probably the best thing that could have happened to Sam, and I am happy to make small concessions as payment."

  "Doesn't any of that seem odd to you?" Mildred asked, her worried voice gaining strength again. "Why would he want stuff erased when he runs the facility? Why didn't you tell me all this before you had me see him?"

  "Honey, don't get like that. You know you aren't supposed to worry about questions so much anymore, it just stresses you out." He hesitated. "The facility has these dumb rules about leaving doctors alone with the less responsive patients. They're his patients though, and he just wants the time he has to be one-on-one. He says they react better without a representative of security in the room, and the videos are because some of his work is top secret."

  "That doesn't sound-" She trailed off.

  Wet kissing noises interrupted her, then Jon continued. "It's all on the up and up, but if it bothers you so much, feel free to ask Kevin about it at your next session. He can clear things up for you. In fact, I want you to bring it up to him."

  "I don't like- " She stopped.

  "How about we talk more about Kevin's Rules in the bedroom," Jon said.

  A headache bloomed for Samantha as she slipped back to her room. The mighty Villain would bide her time against her foes, but other battles called for her attention.

  Chapter 7

  Wednesday May 19th, 2010

  Darkness beckoned Phoenix Star with the promise of adventure. For months, she'd hunted through the shadows of her parent's death, honing her skill at moving unseen and exploring the unknown. Tonight, she would need all her power and skill to achieve her revenge...

  ...but I can't help thinking Mom and Dad would totally have noticed me sneaking out all the time, or Eddie would have turned me in. Jon and Mildred are amateurs.

  The secret door, as she'd taken to calling it, was a small window situated at the end of the long hallway running the length of the basement. Samantha's bedroom sat at the opposite end nearest the stairs. The bathroom and a couple of storage room opened into the same hallway.

  Samantha stopped at the bathroom, wearing her darkest shirt, and carrying her shoes tied together around her neck. From under the sink, she picked out a purposely nondescript box of powder and a large gallon jug. Her supplies acquired, she hurried past the rest of the doors to her secret door; an old oak desk. It made the perfect stepping stool to the only basement window large enough for a thin young woman to fit through.

  Her materials went to the side of the desk while she crawled up, careful not to drop her shoes or scuff the surface. Shoe prints would bring an immediate halt to any future lunar activities.

  At eye level now, she released the lock with practiced ease. The old wooden window creaked as it came
open, but the sound was lost among the regular noises of a settling home. She'd tested it more than once, sneaking out while Mildred cooked in the kitchen, oblivious to the sounds of the window opening.

  Dad used to tell me I was going to be tall like him. Good thing he was spectacularly wrong about that, or I really would be trapped in here. The shoes and bottle went first, then the box of powder. She wiggled through last.

  Outside, the house was quiet and dark. There were no lights on this side of the house, and no signs of an alarm.

  All right Swamp Witch, you made some mistakes here. One is that you don't seem to realize how predictable you are, using your giant pool to deal with your insomnia—something your nosy neighbor might notice.

  Untying her shoes from around her neck, she set the box and jug down, then balanced easily on one foot to wiggle her feet into the shoes, one after the other.

  Your next mistake, the biggest by far, was being an absolute bitch after I was going to give you a freebie on account of the end of school, but you ruined it. Her toothy grin did not reveal a shred of regret. Never, ever, remind your enemy they hate you, especially when you are a swamp witch. Especially not an enemy who is friends with the school custodian...a guy who just so happens to be a professional pool cleaner and doesn't mind answering weird questions.

  The dark yard wasn't as quiet as she'd expected. Chirping crickets were taking advantage of the warm night, and a huffing cat was digging around in the soft dirt of the garden.

  Stifling a laugh, Samantha hefted the plastic jug and tucked the little box under the same arm, gathering a ball of mud with her other hand. The cat had it's back to her, preoccupied with whatever it was doing. Phoenix Star would hone her stealthy skills with the most wary of prey.

  The cool night air formed droplets against her skin, smelling of dew and freshly cut lawn. She moved closer.

  The tomcat's back was to her, distracted. It was quite large, but nearly invisible in the gloom.

  A quarter moon shined dimly through the line of trees in the neighbor's yard, darkening periodically as scattered clouds drifted across its face. Not enough to get a good look at her prey. She moved closer.