Encrypted

by Weaver, Nicole

  Thus, Shifting Star found her Lair, and set about making it cozy.

  Dropping her bags in a corner, she discovered the last door led to another small room with shattered windows. They looked out onto the wall of the quarry and the cloudy sky.

  Samantha carried bits of wood from the front room to wedge the door shut, then collected bricks from outside to use as a crude table and raised spot to setup her bed. She considered building a hearth, but without an outlet for the smoke it would be...Oh no. How could I be so stupid? I forgot my knapsack. The matches. The letters.

  The risk of going back warred against the loss of her fire making materials. Eddie's letters tipped the balance. She knew exactly what would happen when Jon realized the box was missing. He would tear her room apart and find her knapsack; She would never find out what Eddie had been trying to tell her.

  It's still early enough. If I hurry, I can get back and leave again before they come home.

  Chapter 21

  Monday May 24th, 2010

  The thunderclouds that had been threatening to burst all morning, finally did so. Samantha was drenched by the time she made it back to the bus stop. The rain was weird, like someone was dumping buckets of water at a time.

  A cold metal bench in the freezing rain, and maybe some hail later. It's like an allegory for my life. Samantha waited in the meager protection of the bus shelter, huddled under an old hoodie for warmth. Gusts of icy wind continuously blasted sheets of rain inside, enough that she might as well have been sitting in the open.

  Huddled under the driest corner, she took stock. I need Eddie's letters, and a coat if the weather is going to be this fricken weird. I could use an extra blanket too.

  A scrawny and bedraggled alley cat darted inside to huddle under one of the benches, as far away as it could get in the small space. Its single bright eye watched her warily, flinching at each flash of lightning.

  "Frodo? No way! How did you get all the way across town? Come on, little buddy, I have a snack—"

  She crumbled a piece of granola bar into a small pile.

  Frodo stared at the result but ignored the quickly soaked offering.

  With my minions Frodo and Samwise, I shall be Mistress of Kitties, defender of cat kind and all-around friendly human. I could go by Supurrrr. Or...not.

  The city bus arrived.

  Frodo showed no interest in leaving his corner. Without a second thought, Samantha charged into the rain...and slid on the wet concrete, barely catching herself against the side of the bus. It's true folks, the big bad Villain fell and broke her own neck. Let that be a lesson to you about the silliness of evil.

  The smile slid off her face when she saw the old man driving the bus.

  "Same as before Missy, no drugs and no weird crap. You ready to go this time?" He held eye contact while he sniffled and then blew his nose on a tissue.

  Soaked to the bone, Samantha wordlessly handed over a soggy dollar.

  Holding the dripping cash by one corner and glaring, he looked out at the sky. "Damn Primes, always messing with things they ought not to mess with." He tapped a wire snaking up to an earbud in his other ear. "The radio says this weather is some Daemon up north. They are calling it the Minotaur, and the Prime fighting it messes with the weather. Damn uncivil of them, dragging us into their problems."

  Shrugging, she made her way past him. Not making friends here, but if he wants dry money he shouldn't be driving during Noah's flood. This storm is off the charts too, I'm sure the Prime has a perfectly good reason for it reaching this far.

  The storm intensified, rattling the windows and shaking the bus itself.

  Most of the seats were empty, though just behind the driver sat a bedraggled mother and her young daughter. A few soaked teenagers sat spread out near the back, but Susan and her crew weren't among them.

  Samantha exchanged smiles with the daughter, then picked a seat a few rows past her, midway between the other passengers, and pressed her hand against the soothing cool glass. Not my favorite way to travel, but it's better than walking.

  The bus lurched into motion.

  I miss having a family, everything was so much easier. I can't hide out here forever, and new phones don't materialize from dreams and wishes. I know where Trevor lives, but he'll turn me in the moment he realizes I have powers, which would force me to be a Hero, and maybe gift wrap me for Kevin. Even Susan doesn't seem to care all that much, now that I'm a Prime.

  Rap lyrics floated down the aisle, courtesy of a teenager in the back. The lady in the front turned to stare, her worried gaze settling on Samantha.

  Be careful who you bother, you never know who might be a wanted Villain. Samantha deliberately turned away, carefully holding her hand against the soothing cold of the bus window.

  The storm was worsening. Thick black clouds blotted out the sky as far as she could see, releasing huge droplets that hit the window the force of small racks, rather than simple rain. Every few seconds, eerie blue lightning flashed silently towards the north, far enough away that no thunder could be heard.

  What the hell is this? I might have to dump all my money on the cheapest hotel room I can find if it doesn't let up soon. Or maybe Lucky will find me. She did offer me a spot on her team, said they are like a family. She laughed at herself. I'm screwed.

  "Stop it." The mother was glaring at Samantha.

  "Um, it's a bus. People sit on buses." The glass reassured her, cold and solid against her skin.

  "The music. I don't like those songs; they rot your brains," the woman said.

  "Look, I'm not playing any music and I don't know who is. Feel free to go tell them to shut it off, but please leave me alone," Samantha said, rolling her eyes.

  The lady turned back around, muttering loudly, "No one has any respect since those Villains started running around. Back in my day..." she trailed off, pulling her daughter closer.

  I hope she's a good mom.

  ****

  Jon's little truck sat out front again, the one Mildred had said was destroyed, but Mildred's Volkswagen was nowhere in sight. This must be how it feels to live through a horror movie. I know going in there is a terrible idea, but there isn't much I can do except be quiet and hope for the best.

  The front door was open and rocking in the wind, without a single light on to break up the darkness inside the house. Rain had turned the entryway into a small lake, complete with tiny waves visible each time the lightning flashed. Mildred is going to skip cow and go directly to having an elephant over this. Hopefully it won't be my problem.

  Samantha tucked her wet hair behind her ears and stepped inside. Mental note: figure out how to see in the dark. It will totally save on candles and batteries.

  Wood scraped against wood behind her, then something struck her. Streaks of light exploded across her vision, blinding her.

  Cold soaked her pants, taking away some of the sting in her knees as she fell and tipped forward to land in the layer of water covering the hard tiles. The water was surprisingly useless in softening her landing. Flashes of light winked in and out from one side of her vision to the other, and a bell rang continuously in one ear.

  What the hell?

  Scrambling to her feet, she tripped over the edge of the thick carpet and caught herself against the shoe rack along the wall.

  A dark shadow filled the open doorway, silhouetted by distant flashes of lightning. It pulled back an impossibly long arm and lunged for her face.

  Trying not to fall over again, Samantha pushed freezing needles of power into her muscles and felt sheer relief when everything stopped hurting. Each step came lighter, faster, stronger.

  They circled each other, one lunging sporadically, the other stumbling, and dodging faster each attack faster than the one before.

  Finally, Samantha stood in the doorway herself, facing the creature in the hall. Come on lightning, just one more flash so I can figure out what this thing is.

  The open door nearly finished the fight, as a gust of win
d slammed the edge of it into her spine.

  Her enemy chose that moment to go for her face.

  Even Samantha's enhanced muscles were almost not enough, but she managed to drop to one knee beneath its lunge.

  She hopped back up before it could fully recover.

  The creature raised its strange arm high, but this time Samantha was ready.

  She stepped up and into it, throwing her arm out to deflect it and her other shoulder forward to slam the thing's limb into the door. Lightning flashed at last, illuminating the wide eyes and feral grin of her attacker, Christy Brown, who was yanking on her trapped wooden baseball bat.

  With her night vision dazzled by the flash, Samantha felt more than saw Christy go for her again. Whoa, she's really gone off the deep end this time. Did she cut the power too? Her arm throbbed so hard it she couldn't lift it to block, so she leapt back against the wall instead.

  The bat lightly brushed the tip of her nose, bringing tears to her eyes.

  Without warning, the sky lit up like noon on a sunny day with a crack so loud it shook the house. Christy stumbled as everything outside went white, then totally black and still. Even the rain slowed from a downpour to a light drizzle, then stopped entirely.

  Christy, blinded and still facing the doorway, swiped experimentally with the baseball bat.

  Samantha snatched a shoe from floor and tossed it against the far wall.

  The crazed girl chased after the sound.

  Samantha stepped forward to punch the back of Christy's head. My Sensei would be proud... Then she slipped on the soaked tile and took them both to the floor in a heap... or not.

  The splashing melee quickly resolved into Samantha sitting on Christy's back, holding the madly struggling girl down while she pried the bat loose.

  Christy pushed and wiggled, but Samantha tightened her grip and moved with her enough to let her tire herself out. The girl’s struggles grew weaker and weaker until Samantha let go and just sat on her back. "I don't know what is going on in your psycho head, but you have seriously fucked up this time."

  Christy coughed into the water but only bubbles came out.

  "Oh shit, not trying to drown you, Smurfette." She rolled the girl onto her side but kept a hand pressed against her enemy's shoulder, more to keep herself steady than to hold her opponent down. Without the lightning bursts, the gloom was slowly resolving into vague shapes.

  Frantic words tumbled out of Christy's mouth in between her coughing fits. "You dyed my face. Blue! You dyed my face blue."

  "Sure did...and you knocked me down. I could have broken a leg. It isn't a scarlet letter, Smurfette, but I'm sure everyone who saw you knows you did something dumb to someone smarter than you."

  Christy burst into hiccupping tears. "Daddy laughed at me. You made him laugh at me."

  "Your dad is a douche. Why is that a surprise, and how is it my fault?" Samantha stood up, swirls of light floated past her eyes every time she blinked. If she'd caught me square with that first swing, I'd be out cold. Still, I’m not going to pin a girl while she cries, even the world's biggest bitch deserves better than that.

  Christy dragged herself to her feet with her back turned, still sobbing quietly.

  No time to deal with the drama llama. I have to get out of here before Jon realizes I'm home, or worse, tries to take the box back.

  Samantha sighed. "Look, you sketchy bitch, you totally over-reacted but I guess I kinda went too far too. You didn't hurt me much, so how about you just go home and leave me alone from now on?"

  Christy nodded and moved as if to leave, then spun around with the bat in her hands again.

  The first swing was haphazard, but snapped Samantha's head back, even as she tried, and failed, to duck under it. She landed in a heap, the shoe rack digging into her back.

  "You went too far Sammy-whammy. You deserve this," Christy hissed.

  "Hey. Stop that." Jon's voice took them both by surprise.

  Christy slipped on the wet tile, and her follow up swing hit the wall more than it hit Samantha's head. The impact twisted the bat out of her hands.

  "Get out of my house." Jon's bigger shadow heaved the smaller teenager into the wall with one hand.

  The ground pulled Samantha down, her head was too heavy to hold up. She stubbornly held onto the shoe rack, but gave in when she couldn't be sure which way was actually up. She tried to say something, anything, but her throat burned as she heaved acrid bile all over the floor instead.

  Jon ignored her. He was holding Christy by the front of her shirt and pressing her against the light switch by the door.

  Jon actually care if I get hurt. Maybe we were just loud and woke him up?

  Christy burst into fresh tears and pushed ineffectually at him.

  Jon just watched her silently.

  Finally, she dropped her hands to her sides and spoke in a tiny childlike voice. "You can't tell me what to do. She dyed my face blue. She made my daddy laugh at me."

  Samantha tried again, but the tile floor kept sliding out from under her. Holy hell, I had no idea Smurfette had it in her. Bitch is definitely Hero quality psycho.

  Jon's voice cracked. "Go home. Now." He dropped her into the small lake at his feet.

  When she didn't move, he heaved her up and pushed her out the front door, then slammed it behind her. He stood there in the gloom, staring down at Samantha and swaying slightly.

  Her right hand didn't want to move, so she used her left hand to explore her wounds. Her chin throbbed and there was a tender bump a few inches across on the side of her head. "Um, she got me a few times with the bat. I might need some stitches or something."

  Jon started as if he'd forgotten she was there. When he spoke, his voice was dull and lifeless. "Go to bed Sam, you're on your own." He didn't wait for a response, limping past her into the hallway.

  On my own? I mean, hell yeah, but what?

  He stopped in the kitchen to pick up a lit candle with same hand he had used against Christy—his right hand was splinted and swaddled in bloody bandages—then continued through the dining room into the second hallway.

  Wait, he was hurt before the fight? Using the bat as a makeshift cane, she stumbled after Jon. "Where..." She coughed and tried again. "Where is Mildred?"

  "She can't talk to you right now. Go to bed. We are going to the hospital in the morning." He paused in thought, then added. "Don't leave the house."

  "What are you talking about?" Samantha struggled to keep upright, but she kept falling drunkenly against the walls. "You aren't making sense."

  "I always wanted to help broken people be whole. Was I really so bad that I deserve to lose everything?" he mumbled.

  She stopped outside his door. "You're scaring me."

  He shut the bedroom door in her face, leaving her in stunned silence. The lock rattled into place.

  What the actual fuck? Crazy storm, crazy neighbor, and now weird Foster Monster. That’s it. I'm done. No way I am staying another hour in this house, if I have to crawl back across town to do it.

  Walking made the shadows wavy, so she used a hand against the wall to navigate. Outside, the wind still blew, but nothing like it had been during the storm.

  The light switch didn't work, big surprise, and dizzy as she was, the stairs seemed dangerous. Last thing I need is to fall down the stairs, too.

  Dropping to sit on the top step, she scooted down one step at a time, stopping halfway to rest. Every drop burned like ice down her arm and sent jagged lightning across her vision. She shivered.

  Exhausted, she crawled the rest of the way to her room, using her foot to push the door shut. I'm just going to rest a minute, get my knapsack and bail.

  Samantha slowly propped herself up to lean back against the door. She inched her way along the door to the corner of the room and stopped, trying to catch her breath. It felt nice to rest her eyes, just for a minute. The stars are pretty tonight.

  Chapter 22

  Monday May 24th, 2010

  The c
oncrete basement was tastefully furnished in sturdy black chairs and couches, its bland blue walls giving no hint as to its darker uses. A kitchen, if you could call it that, held a microwave and a sink. One corner was sectioned off into a room for the prisoner, the other corner was set aside for interrogations. The rest of the basement offered storage and a small guard station.

  The spartan prisoner's cell was barely big enough for a military cot, a tiny television, and a few books. An intercom allowed the guards to check on Honeydew without opening the thick reinforced steel door. A safety precaution when the inmate can rip your arms and legs off with minimal effort if you get too close.

  Concrete walls, measuring almost six feet thick, boasted over twice the regular amount of rebar running through them. They were built to withstand even Honeydew, or at least slow her down, if she were to attempt an escape. These precautions were reinforced with a bold red sign in Scorch's distinctive scrawl. ‘If you damage the wall, I will burn your legs off.’

  The walls remained unmarked, much to Angela’s relief. Her friend had never been one for planning ahead, but as long as she didn't try to escape, she would be safe.

  Retrofitting the basement had been an expensive and odd addition to the compound, but GG had insisted. GG had always been a secretive boss—no surprise for a big shot with the Mob—but he'd pushed hard for not just loyalty, but trust with his people. All the recent secrets were taking a heavy toll on that trust. He was planning months ago for the need to confine us with guards, walls, and drugs. GG broke his word to me.

  Honeydew was currently curled up on the bed, smiling peacefully as she idly paged through a thick novel.

  Its been, what, a week? She went from wanting to murder GG to totally chill with being confined in the basement. Whatever Good Touch and Mnemonic are doing to her, it is scrambling her fucking brains. Angela Miller waved at the security guys until they buzzed her, and the food, through the main door. "Here you go, one large meat lovers for you guys, and a small, veggie lovers for the prisoner."