Encrypted

by Weaver, Nicole

  I'll be trapped if they catch me on the bus, but I will have to take one to a better part of town if the guards don't leave soon.

  Samantha coughed as she peeled off her dusty clothes, switching to one of her few remaining clean shirts and a less-dirty pair of pants that she'd been saving. The darker colors matched the short jet-black hair that curled around her ears. Clothing was a big concern. She was down to one last change of truly clean clothes and a few extra pair of underwear, with no way to wash anything once it was soiled. I might have to ask Jackie how she stays clean, but I'd rather not owe her any favors.

  Jackie was outside today, playing with her dogs. She stopped and so did the animals, staring as Samantha hopped out of her makeshift exit.

  Oh joy, Sloth is making an appearance.

  Their relationship had quickly soured as the posters had spread. Samantha had the distinct impression Jackie didn’t want the extra attention either. She’s not the worst neighbor I’ve had, and I can’t really blame her for blaming me, but it’s super inconvenient.

  A quick jog took her up the windy little road to the tree line, where she stopped to look out over The Pit. She kicked a rock loose to watch it bounce back down, like skipping rocks at the lake.

  Jackie stared up at her from the same place she had been standing, unmoving, one hand pressed against the head of her largest brown mongrel. It stared as well, tail stiff and silent at this distance, while the Chihuahua danced beside them.

  Creepy much? Please don't eat any children while I'm gone. She sighed. Sorry mom, I know Jackie is just a regular person, but I really need her to stop spying on me. Ugh.

  Her newest plan left her hiding near the strip mall until long after sunset as a steady trickle of cars came and went. No one slowed as they drove past the decorative bushes she'd chosen as a hiding place.

  The Frederson's would be closing soon.

  The asshole manager's store was her target. Moving quickly, she slipped through the still open automatic doors, hurrying to the back of the store. The break room, storage rooms, and restroom shared the same hallway, making it easy to change destinations at the last second.

  She slid into the storage room, ducking down in a dark corner among the boxes furthest from the doors.

  "I swear Frank; I saw a kid wearing a fanny pack come back here." A dark-haired security guard poked his head in through the swinging doors.

  Another voice called out behind him. "Nah, the place is empty. Let’s get it locked down, so I can get home to my wife."

  There was a pause. "Okay boss, your call."

  The footsteps receded and most of the lights went out simultaneously. Silence fell across the dimly lit store.

  I win. Her first step in the dark knocked over a box. She froze, holding her breath. Eventually I need to learn how to see in the dark, I just can't risk being blind right now if I screw it up.

  Samantha flicked on the break room lights without a problem, leaving her prize exposed...the phone.

  Please work, please work. The call went directly to her voicemail. "It's Gray, drop me a line." She tapped the password in nervously. "You have five new messages. First message."

  A familiar voice spoke first, Trevor. "What the hell is going on? You are suddenly Arbor City's most wanted. Suckerpunch is in trouble, and my dad is super pissed I didn't stop you when I had the chance. I've never seen him this furious. Turn yourself in Gray, it's the right thing to do."

  "Message deleted."

  Connor's voice came through, whispered and hurried. "Samantha, I still don't know what's going on, but I have no regrets. No way I believe you are working for the Mob, but I am starting to think important people are compromised. Everyone bought the frame job too completely to be believed." He let out a sigh. "They are breathing down my neck because I stood up for you. Keep your head down and stay safe. I'll see what I can do on my end." He paused. "Don't forget you promised me some answers, eventually."

  "Message saved."

  Susan's frantic voice was next. "Holy crap, I'm busy for a few days and you don't just kick the hornets’ nest, you slap the queen and stomp the sucker flat. The police have been asking about you and Mom says there's people watching our house. I don't know how, but they know we are friends. I have been informed that helping you will be considered at least First-Degree Villainy."

  Louder. "I'm sorry, but Mom says don't come here. There is good news though, that Doctor you were worried about is a wanted man. They tried to arrest him, but it turns out he's a Prime. Knocked some officers silly and escaped—but at least he isn't out looking for you. Be safe, hun."

  Samantha moved to delete the message but stopped when Susan continued in a whisper. "I'm worried about you. If you need money or food or something, slip me a note under the back doormat and I'll do what I can."

  "Message saved."

  "Hey, babe, you alright? It looks like everyone seems to know you're a Prime." Lucky spoke quickly. "Sorry I took so long, but I'm back now. Give me a call and we can do lunch to discuss you joining the team, my treat. We can only help if you come to us before they catch you, so don't waste any time." Lucky rattled off a phone number and hung up.

  "Message saved."

  Samantha copied the number into her notepad while the system started the next voicemail.

  "I don't appreciate your recent actions, Sam." Samantha's pen fell to the floor and rolled away. It was Kevin. "We seem to have a lot to discuss. I want you to call me back at—"

  It took her two attempts to hang up. She wasn't sure how long she sat there staring at the phone and shaking before she remembered what else she had to do.

  Why would he call me? How? He shouldn't be calling to harass his victim while the police are looking for him.

  The first attempt at punching in Lucky's number failed. Her spasming fingers didn't respond until she stopped and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The phone rang once and went to voicemail. "It's me, Samantha. Holy crap am I happy to hear from you! Please meet me tomorrow around noon. I don't have a clock, so I won't be exactly on time, but I will be at Suzie's burgers in the shopping center near where we first met. My cell is destroyed, so no idea when I can call or check my messages again. Please be there." Samantha took another deep breath. "I don’t have anyone else."

  Dropping the phone, she moved into the storage room and began digging through the boxes, looking for snacks. Most of them held napkins and paper towels, but a few contained soup. She filled most of the backpack with the cans, stuffing a bag of chips and a box of hostess pastries in last. Now, how the hell do I get out of here? Do they lock emergency exits at night?

  Something brushed against a display case out in the store. Immediately she pushed her hearing out.

  A familiar male voice was whispering. "All right Frank, you said she matches the description, and I believe you. If she comes with us on her own, we treat her nice. If she resists, then just remember she has to be alive to talk to the boss bitch, or neither of us will be. Got it?"

  "Boss says she's pretty fast. Let’s split up and pin her between us." Frank chuckled nastily.

  Whispered agreement was followed by more furtive steps.

  The room offered no escape. No windows, no useful weapons, not even cleaning supplies she could use as mace.

  Muscles thrumming, she pushed threads of power deeper throughout her body. Dashing through the swinging door, Samantha turned down the nearest aisle.

  The wine and beer sections were divided into smaller aisles around the walk-in fridge, giving the most options for escape. A single dim light offered some ability to see as well. Halfway down the first row, a man in a dark jogging outfit strolled around the corner and hefted a bulky club.

  She stopped in her tracks, near a wine display. The best defense is a good offense...and Shifting Phases has the very best defense.

  The middle-aged man was much larger than her. He spoke first, casually, almost friendly. "Hello Samantha."

  "Who's there?" She backed away towards t
he wine, pretending surprise.

  He mockingly kept pace.

  She stepped back again, stopping inches from the wine rack.

  The man continued his lazy pursuit. "Denying it isn't helping anyone, Samantha. You could have explained away the silly fanny pack, lots of teenagers wear them, but you've been wearing the same sparkly shoes since you ran away."

  She looked down at her shoes, the pink jewels were still visible through the dirt. Well shit. "It isn't a fanny pack, it's a belt pouch."

  He laughed.

  "Fine, what do you want?" she demanded.

  "Come with us to meet our boss," he said.

  Furtive footsteps moved to flank her on the other side of the walk-in fridge. She'd have missed them, if her hearing wasn't already enhanced. General Armstrong would never surrender, and neither shall I.

  Samantha bared her teeth. "How about you get out of my way? I don't want to come with you, and I don't think you can make me."

  The other man, Frank, entered the aisle behind her. Dressed in a security guard uniform, he carried another club. "I think you badly underestimate your situation." Blue arcs of energy crackled to life down the length of his weapon. They were carrying stun clubs.

  The men blocked opposite sides of the aisle, with her trapped in the middle. Raising their clubs in tandem, they advanced cautiously.

  "This doesn't have to hurt, little girl. Just stay calm and come with us," the jogger said.

  "Um, still no."

  They charged.

  Frank was closer, club already whistling for her head.

  The bottle slid into her hand easily and she launched it directly into his face.

  He missed.

  She didn't.

  Frankie the Nose and Mr. Jogger were no match for the mighty Villain.

  Blood splattered across the aisle, mixed with shards of glass and spilled wine. He fell to his knees, then onto his face, and didn't get up.

  Another bottle in hand, Samantha whirled back to Mr. Jogger...and met a swirling galaxy of stars, as his club connected with the side of her face.

  The guy zapped her again on her way to the floor, blue sparks blasting spasms through her muscles until they locked solid. Nothing broke her fall.

  "Fuck you bitch." He kicked her backpack away and triggered his club against the center of her chest.

  Every synapse fizzed out, leaving white noise where thoughts used to be. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she convulsed into a ball of pain. Floating in her head, the sounds slowly resolved into words, jumbled and out of order. Nothing moved like it was supposed to. Moving only flopped her arms and legs uselessly.

  Eventually, her attacker moved away. "Fuck, girl has some moves. Hey man, you gonna live?"

  Frank was sitting up and wiping blood out of his eyes. "Damn it, Dave, I think she broke my nose. I'm lucky she didn't take an eye too." He sounded woozy. "That's a lot of blood."

  On impulse, she followed a nerve from her ear into her brain. Why don't thoughts work?

  "Calm down, you know GG will have Good Touch fix you up as soon as we get back," Dave said.

  Frank flinched. When he spoke, his voice was nasally and muffled, "Not helping. That guy is creepy as fuck. You saw what he did to Honeydew, and the boss actually liked her."

  "Nah, she screwed up and there were consequences. The boss is going to love us after we bring in his prize, even the queen bitch couldn't keep hold of her." Dave zapped Samantha again, this time on the side of her head.

  "Hold off man, you kill her and it's both our asses." Frank fell silent for a moment. "You don't think Screamdream is going to be pissed off we got the kid first?" He shivered visibly. "I hear she skins people who cross her."

  "Her? She's tame as house cat, 'long as you give her respect and don't get in her way." Dave thought for a moment. "Well, tame as a pissed off house cat tripping on cocaine and sharpening it's claws. We should mention that she put us on the case so she gets some of the credit."

  Following the nerves from her ear, Samantha's brain wasn't what she'd expected. The curves and valleys were deeper and there were so many of them. They were changing. Misfiring synapses rerouted as she watched, shunting the random blasts of white noise into the new structures. Fluids gathered in strange places, signals strengthening, all changing by the second.

  Her ears popped as pooling fluids connected to veins and drained away. The changes slowed, then stopped. I'm reacting, evolving.

  "I'm going to grab some towels, something to clean you up a bit. Stay with the girl." Dave's good cheer wasn't shared by either member of his audience.

  "Maybe you should zap her again after all?" Frank sighed. "Just so she doesn't try to run while you're gone."

  "Nah, you were right before. We don't want to kill her. Kid's going to be out for a while already with how much I gave her. Lucky for us, Good Touch will fix her up when he's working on you, and maybe Blood Clown can do something about her attitude while she's out."

  Back to herself, watched them through slitted eyes.

  Footsteps receded down the aisle.

  Frank was on his knees, stripped down to his undershirt and holding one hand to his forehead. Trails of blood leaked around his hand only to drip back onto the areas he was trying to clean. His wadded-up sweatshirt was already ruined after cleaning off the worst of the mess, but the larger cuts were still bleeding. He swayed slightly and nearly fell over.

  His club sat where he'd dropped it, a few feet away. Out of reach unless she wanted to crawl past the bleeding thug.

  If there are Villain Olympics, jumping over a fallen enemy should definitely be an event.

  She stood up.

  "What the hell?" Frank dropped his shirt and lunged for his weapon.

  Samantha's muscles sang as she threw herself over him—and landed directly in a puddle of his blood. Both feet flew backwards while the rest of her went forward. She slid to a halt, nose inches from the metal rack with one hand wrapped around the handle of the club.

  Frank yanked a smaller stun gun from his belt and dropped to his knees to jam it into the small of her back. "Go ahead bitch, shit your pants."

  Electricity blasted into her spine...and dissipated.

  She triggered her club as it connected with his head.

  He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  Is he dead? I fricken hope not. I mean, these guys probably gave me a black eye, but that’s no reason to kill them. She pushed herself up and nudged him with the tip of her club.

  "Urgh. Wha…Wh…" Drool mixed with the blood already covering Frank’s head. He didn't get up.

  "Frank, right? You tell your boss I want nothing to do with him, and I am going to seriously fuck up the next person who tries to make me go anywhere with them. Got it?" She poked him with the tip of his own weapon.

  His head bounced, but she wasn't sure if it was a muscle twitch, or a nod. Snatching up her wine-soaked backpack, now slightly bloody, she slid the stun club inside and grabbed an unbroken bottle of wine.

  "Frank, you all right? Sorry it took a minute, found some supplies though. Frank?" Dave came around the corner carrying a roll of paper towels and disinfectant. "Damn it, girl, don't make me shoot your stupid ass." He dropped everything and pulled an enormous revolver from under his arm.

  She hurled the bottle at him and darted into the next aisle.

  The big electric doors at the front of the store didn't budge. Maybe I can fight him for the key.

  A bullet whizzed past her ear, spraying her with bits of glass and forcing her away from the doors. Oh. That's not good. Samantha turned down the cooking aisle, scanning for a jumbo bottle of vegetable oil. She unscrewed the lid while she ran.

  "Bitch, if he doesn't make it, I am going to fuck you up so bad no one can fix your face." Dave was somewhere nearby, probably trying to figure out which aisle she'd run down.

  Facing the back of the store, to her left was the storage area she'd hidden in, no exit there. To her right was the bakery. She went right,
dumping the jug on the floor and yelling as she ran. "I told you, I am not going anywhere with you. Give up or face my retribution."

  Dave laughed. "Girl, I'm going to shoot you in both legs."

  The exit was tucked around a corner behind the counter, its muted green light barely visible. She slowed to press the push-bar, stopping outside but holding the door open a few inches.

  Sudden swearing was punctuated by a horrendous crash that echoed across the empty store.

  Smiling, Samantha stuck her head back in and yelled, "Next time I won't be so nice to you."

  She circled far out of her way before returning to her lair. Victory is mine, and I have only one more night until I will be out of here.

  Chapter 32

  Wednesday June 2nd, 2010

  Dawn arrived bright, cheery, and slightly chilly. Chirping birds battled with chattering squirrels, dogs huffed and barked. A riot of life ready to greet the brand-new day.

  "Go away." Samantha burrowed into her blankets and fell back to sleep.

  A ferocious neck cramp woke her a few hours later. Crap, I have no idea what time it is. Pulling herself together for a quick breakfast of crushed chips and a flattened cupcake, she hung her head out of the window.

  The sun was still low in sky, far past dawn, but still short of noon.

  Her last remaining breath mint fought a losing battle while she sorted through her meager possessions. All the camping supplies were quickly packed, including her freshly acquired cans of food. She spread them out between her knapsack, backpack, and duffel bag. Last, she stuffed her dirty clothes into the duffel bag and stacked everything in the corner. She’d rubbed a little dust into the blood and wine stains on her backpack last night before bed, hoping it would disguise them enough to avoid notice. It seemed to be working.

  She threw together her outfit with her final pair of clean underwear, bra, and socks, a light pink flower shirt, jeans, and her carefully dirtied shoes. No idea if the cops noticed my shoes too, but I’d better avoid notice until I can get a different pair.