We Could Be Heroes

by Mike Chen

  Zoe’s face scrunched, then held its twisted expression. Guess she hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah. That is weird.”

  “Slow down. Just a little bit.” Jamie unbuckled his seat belt and dashed to the back of the food truck. As he passed the deep fryer he grabbed a handful of the tater tots that sat in a basket and popped a couple in his mouth. He peered out the small pane that doubled as the back window and watched as the fleet adjusted to match their speed. “Now speed up. Way up.”

  The truck lurched forward, knocking him off-balance. He steadied himself, toppling a paper bag filled with napkins while doing so. Another look showed the same thing—most cars kept pace, and the ones that didn’t soon accelerated harshly enough to get back in line.

  “I think they’re not trying to stop us. They’re tracking us.”

  “Does that mean we can all take a break?”

  “Just try to drive as steady as possible. I’ll double-check.”

  Jamie reached out with his mind, farther than he’d ever tried before. But the relatively consistent nature of the distance between him and Chesterton made it surprisingly easy. It only took seconds to lock in, and from there, Jamie skimmed through recent memories, treading lightly to prevent any accidental brain-stuns. Most of it focused on the road ahead and the details on the dashboard, but Jamie did find one instance where back-and-forth communication broke through the pursuit.

  “Requesting tire spikes at exit 119 on Highway 21 eastbound.”

  “Negative,” Chesterton had said. “I repeat, negative on the road spikes. I don’t want to slow them down or take them in yet. There’s something they said they wanted to show me and I’m pretty sure they’re heading toward that site right now. It sounds like it’s related to the blackouts. Request that everyone else just concentrate on keeping people safe with the blackouts taking over the city. Please.”

  Jamie pulled back out, returning to the clanging back of the food truck. “You know how I told you that Chesterton seemed like one of the good ones?”

  “Yeah. You were wrong?”

  “I was right. For once. And it sounds like Project Electron is gearing up. He said the blackouts are getting worse.” Jamie worked his way back to the front and settled back into the passenger seat. He held up a tater tot for Zoe. “They’re garlic flavor,” he said as she shot him a raised eyebrow and a nod. “He’s letting us go to the facility. He wants to see what we’re leading him to.”

  Zoe took the tot and popped it into her mouth. She chewed quickly, a thoughtful look on her face. “You know, that doesn’t mean he’s one of the good ones. It just means he’s thinking ahead.”

  They passed a small strip mall on the left, the last real bit of direct civilization on their path. Overhead, helicopter lights maintained a steady drape over them, and behind, the flashing red and blues of police cars provided a constant reminder that this probably wasn’t going to end well. “Oh. Well, that’s a good point,” he said, slipping out of his seat belt to reach the ice chest behind Zoe. “We’ve got a clear path. Let’s get there quick.” His fingers sank into the slippery ice cubes, searching for something smooth and metallic. “Want a soda before the final show?”

  35

  ZOE WAITED UNTIL HER powers returned.

  The feeling was instinctive, like knowing whether you were hungry or full, cold or hot. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.” They’d arrived about five minutes ahead of the police and media caravan thanks to a winding dirt path that slowed the convoy down. Parked about a quarter mile away, Zoe and Jamie ran at normal speed over weeds and brush, dirt and rocks, all into the cover of trees. Jamie was the one to suggest stopping farther out to not tip the facility guards off, but it didn’t appear Chesterton or the rest of the police agreed, even though the helicopter had peeled off a few miles back. As Zoe felt her powers coming back, so did her heightened sense of hearing. “They’re close,” she said, “I think I’m good.”

  “You sure? This would probably be a bad time for it to give out halfway up a tree.”

  “The alternative is to face the entire police force after I punched out a bunch of them. Though to be fair, they shot me.” Zoe looked up and gauged the height. “Some distance would be good.”

  “Right,” Jamie said. “Up and at ’em.”

  Zoe put one arm around Jamie, took a deep breath and hoped she’d judged this correctly.

  They launched upward, the wind tickling her cheeks, until she put a palm out to keep them in the air and assess a soft landing point. Her foot tucked in the joint of a thick branch; between a few hours ago and this, she was getting pretty good at this whole “leaping up trees” thing. Maybe if she survived this, she’d offer people rides for a hundred bucks a pop. Seemed like a better use of her skills than returning to FoodFast.

  One by one, the police rolled in, first Chesterton’s unmarked sedan, then six squad cars, then just as many TV vans. Dust swirled in slow-forming clouds along the dirt road, and Chesterton’s car lurched its way to the front gate. Behind the bars, silhouettes moved and the detective stepped out. Voices came from above the din of all the vehicles, but only bits and pieces passed their way, even with her hearing.

  “Sounds like Chesterton’s confused,” she said. They continued watching as the detective talked through the gate, then pointed back at the cars behind him. “Can you see what they just talked about?”

  Jamie nodded, then squinted, his hands in front of him. Zoe kept watching the scene unfold in front of them, though the drain on her powers remained palpable. Her palm flexed, searching for that invisible grip that propelled her, but only a faint brush arrived against her skin.

  “I’m not sure what his agenda is,” Jamie said, “but he’s not throwing us under the bus.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He might be buying us time. Or buying himself time. Or just letting things play out. He hasn’t mentioned either of us. He told them that the city is experiencing a drain on the power grid and the city’s engineers believe it has something to do with this facility.” He looked over and offered a grin. “No mention of vigilantes or bank robbers. So it’s good bullshit.”

  “That still doesn’t tell us how to stop any of this.”

  “Well, look at the activity out front. We know that a bunch of Kaftan’s hired goons were cut loose. But the guards are piling up in the main courtyard.” He pointed, and Zoe followed his line of sight. Even without thermal detection, she saw he was right. “We should go now. Element of surprise. While they’re looking the other way.”

  Zoe pumped her legs some more. The strength was there, but not quite the way she’d prefer it for invading a facility with armed guards. A few more minutes would have helped. But the balcony she’d soared into weeks ago sat ripe for the taking, if they could just make it there.

  “Okay,” she said. “Grab on.”

  “How are we going to do this?” he asked as he took her by the shoulder. “Are you gonna—”

  Zoe didn’t give him a chance to finish the question. Her fluctuating powers left too much to chance, and the ability to hover, assess and pick a route didn’t exist here. Finesse wouldn’t work, even if no eyes tracked them across the night sky. Instead, she threw them as high into the air as possible, some extra forty or fifty feet on top of the good twenty above the ground they’d started from. Even before they’d hit the apex of the leap, Zoe’s fingers dug into the ether and pushed as hard as she could. They throttled forward, cutting through the air at a speed similar to her top sprinting pace, and as they flew toward the facility’s upper level, Zoe cringed at Jamie’s sudden terrified yell right in her ear.

  Technically, they were headed toward the open balcony from her last visit. But without fine-tuning, their flight lacked accuracy. They aimed for a general direction where five feet one way would lead to an empty crevice between air-conditioning units, five feet another way would smash them straight into a wall, and
just right might crash-land them onto a balcony.

  Zoe just had to hope that she hadn’t drained all her strength yet.

  With Jamie clutching on tightly, Zoe waited until they were close to the wall—thirty, maybe forty feet? Who knew at this speed?—then threw her hands out, pulsating the ether to slow them, then she pointed them downward, a slow descent that let her fine-tune their direction until they hovered just above the balcony.

  A simple drop.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about—” Jamie started, when Zoe’s powers—or sudden lack of them—interrupted. They went from smooth descent to a sudden fall—straight down, at least. Her hands pumped vertically, palms out, and right before they hit the balcony, her powers kicked in and she managed to keep them floating several inches above the concrete floor.

  “After you,” Zoe said, letting Jamie down.

  “Let’s never do that again.” Jamie moved to the front of the balcony, peering over the edge toward the facility’s entry gates. “Check this out.”

  Zoe followed suit, but grasped on to the edge, shoulders rising and falling as she took in restorative breaths. In the distance, a group of police bunched together to form a rough line, and behind them stood an arc of media lights and cameras and reporters. “Look at all that media. I’m guessing those guys blew Chesterton’s cover. There’s no way they haven’t mentioned us.”

  Popping sounds interrupted their discussion, and they both ducked, expecting gunfire from either the facility guards or the police or both. But this came with a specific rhythm, the pops hitting regular beats and a quick peek showed that tall lamps all around the structure were exploding one by one.

  Something was happening with Project Electron.

  Jamie stood up, lines etched into his face in concentration. “No one knows anything about what just happened. They think it might be the region’s power grid.” The light and shadows hit him at an angle that made his Mind Robber hands and fingers look really badass. Though she knew better—he’d still lose in a fight. But hopefully he was getting some valid info. “Maybe they’re right. I’m diving deeper. Those guys aren’t standard security guards. They’re like hired ex-military. One is from Russia. Wow. Kaftan did her research when it comes to tough guys. And I think—oh shit.”

  “Oh shit good or oh shit bad?”

  “I’m not sure.” He whirled around, then nodded behind him. “Kaftan’s out there now. I jumped from person to person down there to scout it out but there’s one mind I can’t break into.” He pointed at the door. “Element of surprise, right?”

  “Have we figured out what we’re going to do inside yet?” Zoe asked, gauging her strength before assessing the door. She took a step back, then formed a fist and was just about to launch at it when Jamie waved her to stop.

  “You mean a plan?” From his back pocket, he took out the security badge they’d lifted from Richard earlier in the night. Waving it over the little black reader next to the doorknob produced a chime and the sound of a door latch. “We’re terrible at plans, remember? Let’s wing it.”

  36

  IF THE TELOS FACILITY projected a facade of normalcy over something much more sinister, this place was the exact opposite. It was creepy, with only red emergency lights providing minimal illumination.

  “This place didn’t look like a horror movie last time,” Jamie said, moving slowly down the hallway and trying to not trip over his feet. “It was more like a factory that needed an interior decorator.”

  “Funny, those are some of the few true memories I have.” Zoe stopped, hands on knees and shoulders slumped. She took in a heavy breath, but waved away his hand when he offered. “From those snippets you left me. Definitely not horror-movie creepy like this. And I say that as someone who likes horror movies.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. This power drain, it’s been getting worse the longer the night’s gone on. And I’m not talking about the city.” He gestured all around them, and she raised an eyebrow at him, a conversation built on shorthand to argue what he realized and what she refused to admit, regardless of how weary she looked. He punctuated his end of the exchange with a wrinkled brow and a bemused smile, all tied together with a calm, quiet voice. “It’s taking longer for you to recover. Let’s take a break,” he said.

  “A break’s no good if they find us.”

  “You’re no good if you’re shot and have no powers,” he said, keeping his tone even. “So, let’s take a break. Mind Robber’s orders.” With eyes shut, Jamie took a quick assessment of the area. No minds appeared in the immediate region, at least for now.

  While Zoe’s stoicism came off as commendable, the lack of powers added to his worry. Having the Throwing Star by his side wouldn’t do much good if she lacked strength or speed half the time, all in unpredictable bursts.

  Of course, he couldn’t say that. “There’s no one close. Take a break.” He scanned the room again, this time with eyes open, not for threats but for a conversation topic that might ease the tension, help reset things. “By the way, how do you know what’s horror-movie creepy? Didn’t I just tell you about that?”

  “I know because horror movies are the best.” Zoe shrugged, the leather of her Throwing Star suit crinkling with the gesture. “Some stuff must be universal even with a reset. Like your accent, right? And for me, horror movies. And the basics. I mean, I can read, write, drive—”

  “—I don’t know about that driving part. That was a rough ride.”

  “Hey, we got here, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. If we find your DMV records, I’m gonna put a bet on the number of speeding tickets.”

  A genuine smile crept onto Zoe’s face, with squinted eyes and visible teeth. She pulled her sweat-matted hair back, grimacing at the movement with her injured arm. “I’ll take that.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll take that bet. About speeding tickets. You said Zoe Wong’s my real name. Now that we know that, it probably won’t be that hard to figure out how many speeding tickets I earned. Maybe all that info is here. You know, we can dig up the Project Electron stuff to send to the press, but also my DMV record.” Her eyes dropped to the floor, a rare pensive look coming over her face. “How many times do you think they reset me?”

  Even if he knew that information, such a question came with so many other questions that no good answer existed. “Kaftan didn’t say,” Jamie said after several seconds.

  Without a retort lined up, Zoe stood and fidgeted with her makeshift bandages. Her eyes looked everywhere but at Jamie, and when he stepped toward her, she turned.

  Under most circumstances, he wouldn’t dare approach her this way. She’d slug the shit out of him. This time, though, felt different. He could, in theory, dive into her mind, see what memories flew through there.

  In that moment, though, Jamie opted to give her space. For once, he didn’t need to fully understand something to embrace the moment. He did the usual five-second countdown, though this wasn’t to re-center himself. He already knew what he was going to say. The countdown was to let her process it all first.

  “Okay, I got it,” Jamie finally said, holding out his right hand. “We get out of this alive and not under arrest, you help me rob a bank and I help you hack the DMV. If someone’s gonna have records of every revision of you, it’s gotta be the DMV.”

  The dim lighting fluctuated, darkness flashing around them, along with a sudden flash of blue. The red lights returned. And fortunately, no guards popped up around them. Or chainsaw-wielding serial killers, if this had been one of Zoe’s horror movies.

  Zoe gripped his hand in return. “Deal,” she said, her smile turning into a full laugh. Her fingers felt loose at first, but seconds later they squeezed and grasped, an unnatural strength putting too much pressure on his knuckles.

  “Zoe.
..”

  “Yeah, I feel it.” In the dim light, harsh shadows formed across Zoe’s unmasked cheekbones, and the zipper teeth that formed the Throwing Star shape across her suit looked even more pronounced, like someone turned the contrast all the way up on their world. “The heat signatures are back. I’ll scout.” Through the tear in her suit, the towel tied around the gunshot wound oozed blood, the original light-colored cloth now nearly soaked through. Jamie watched her eyes, an intensity focusing them as her head gradually tilted from left to right. “I think it’s only guards. Based on their outlines and stance. Scientists don’t walk like that.” She straightened up, taking a sudden look all around them, even up and down at the various levels before her face scrunched. “This place is nearly empty. If they were testing on anyone else, they’re gone now.”

  Hartnell City. New Turning. Janloon. And other cities with rumors. Jamie wondered if test subjects got shipped out to those places when they were no longer deemed useful.

  “Now, let’s see...” Zoe said. Her finger went up, and Jamie recognized the gesture.

  She was trying to brain-stun.

  “Remember, it’s a matter of finesse.”

  Zoe shook her head, frowning at the lack of result. “I’m not practiced enough. Or strong enough. Not sure at this point.”

  “How far away?”

  “Other side of this hallway. Probably ten, fifteen meters that way.” She pointed, this time strictly for direction.

  Jamie closed his eyes and began sensing for minds; the thick matrix of concrete and metal dulled his range but there he was, the faintest outline of white floating in his mind’s eye. A quick turn of the finger locked him in, bringing the presence from a cloud to a silhouette and recent memories flashed before Jamie’s eyes. Most of the images offered little of note, nothing but patrolling hallways. However, one distinct memory involved an alert barked through his headset warning that the Mind Robber and Throwing Star were in the building, with orders on how to deal with them.