Two

by LeighAnn Kopans

  “What about that building? Looks like it would be safe to land there.”

  She points to an office building with a flat roof, maybe ten stories tall. It sits in the shadow of a much taller one, tucked away from the bustle of the city.

  “As good as any.”

  We begin our descent, and a new anxiousness to be on solid ground runs through my legs. The other buildings that surround our landing zone are all plain white with dark mirrored windows, but between and beyond them is green. Green fields, green parks. Our feet pound into the gravel roof with almost no shakiness in my legs. I can tell by the way Merrin is smiling and calm instead of weary and slightly scared-looking that she feels the same.

  “Good,” she says. “It’s good. We just had to get used to it. Like flying at normal speed.” There’s an awed, yet satisfied tone to her words. I know she always thought she’d be a One, that she’d never amount to anything, and yet here she is, making a cross-country flight in an hour and a half.

  I grin for her because I know she wants me to. I know that, as confident as she is most of the time, sometimes she needs someone to agree that, yes, this is awesome. So I do, even though my stomach twists with the creeping sense of dread that we made the wrong call by coming here.

  Merrin’s heart will always be in these Hubs, in uncovering whatever answers she’s looking for. I’m not entirely sure what it is she thinks she’ll find, and maybe neither is she. My heart, however, will always be in that first time we flew together. The first time I realized that having my power could be good and not painful. That life could feel real, like it fit me perfectly for at least a moment.

  Sometimes, I look at her, and I’m so jealous that she’s always realized that, that I missed out on so many years of hoping my One could be something more. I was so jaded at such a young age that any memories of imagining I was a superhero are long gone. She’s always been able to keep that fantasy alive. Maybe I let go of it too soon.

  No matter what, it’s gone now.

  I open my mouth to say something about how quiet and peaceful it is up here — almost like we’re flying, but we’re still and grounded, so I can really look at her. As much as I love holding her, love the feel of her body crushed against mine, there’s something about being able to take in the way she looks that changes the whole world for me.

  But before any words come out, a scraping, grinding noise comes from behind me. Suddenly, my whole body is on edge; I whip around, but there’s no one there. The same noise, slightly heavier and more drawn out, sounds from my left, and now I’m breathing fast. I know I heard the noise — know it — and Merrin did, too, because she’s taken a rigid, ready-to-fight stance beside me. The tension buzzes and multiplies between us. A split-second later, another scrape, and my eye trends downward just in time to see a trail of gravel displacing itself. I stare down at it and grab Mer’s wrist, yanking her close to me just in time for the click of guns to surround us. With no one there.

  “Holy…” Mer says, and then the air all around us ripples, and we’re surrounded by a bunch of guys in black SWAT suits, holding what I think are M-16s. And pointing them right at us.

  SEVEN

  i drop Merrin’s hand and raise mine, palms out.

  “We’re cool,” I say, trying to lower my voice and make it sound authoritative. “We’re…we’re not here to hurt anyone or start any trouble.”

  “We’re looking for help,” Merrin says, a sob twisting the volume of her words until they crack. She holds her hands up in the air, too. “We’re unarmed.”

  “At ease,” a deep voice says from the back of the circle of guns trained on us. A man steps forward through the others. “We thought as much, but we had to be sure. A couple of humans showing up on our radar and then landing on our roof requires this sort of precaution, as I’m sure you can understand.”

  He’s young — can’t be older than forty — with warm, dark skin. His bald head glints in the building’s roof lights. He props dark glasses up on his head, and his eyes flash at the hint of a smile he’s giving us now.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say you were none other than the famous Mr. VanDyne and Miss Grey,” he says, extending his hand to Merrin first and then to me. He tilts his head down, takes a hard look into my eyes, and grips my hand so strongly that I want to flex it to crack the joints back into place when he lets go. I clench my jaw instead. I remind myself, over and over, that these people are here to help us. Theoretically. Most likely.

  “Alfred Masters,” he says with a curt nod. “I’m the President of the Clandestine Services Hub. And the fact that I’m here to welcome you in this somewhat…unceremonious location means not only did I know you two were coming, but I was hoping to persuade you to stay.”

  Merrin’s eyes fly wide open. Her look of pure shock would make me laugh — not much shocks Merrin — if we weren’t standing ten stories in the air with the wind whipping against us. Surrounded by guns.

  “You knew we were coming?” she stutters.

  “It’s Clandestine Services, Mer. It’s their job to know everything.” And as I say it, a thrill runs through me. An unexpectedly strong, clear sense of rightness and belonging. Knowing everything — that feels like exactly the place we want to be right now. I nudge Merrin gently with my shoulder.

  “I just thought…since we went supersonic…”

  A smile plays at the president’s lips. “Supersonic? Are you truly that fast?”

  She clears her throat. “We think so. There was a boom.”

  “Well,” he grins, “that sounds promising indeed.” He stretches an arm out with his hand crooked inward. Encouraging and inviting.

  Merrin’s glance darts back and forth from Masters to the sky, from one tenuous safety to another. Her hand twitches toward mine, a check to make sure that her one escape route will be there for her.

  I reach back, letting her hand slide against mine, letting the same buzz that was there when we first met thrum through my veins. I will be there for her. I always will be, and I want her to know.

  But I don’t want to escape, because I really, really want to be there for my sisters, too. Even though I’m scared as hell of landing at yet another Hub we know nothing about, now that we’re at Clandestine Services, we might as well see what they can do to help us.

  As soon as I decide that, I carry my body differently — I’m taller, stronger. It feels good. I know Merrin feels it, too, because she gets closer and sort of leans toward me, like at any moment she could need me for support.

  “Can we take you down then?” President Masters has a smooth voice and a smooth smile to match. The two blend together perfectly into one sensation of reason and calm. Merrin and I share a glance and nod together, and then the giant square of roof where we were standing descends, smoothly downward. Both our bodies jerk at the motion, but neither Merrin nor I come close to being knocked off our feet.

  That buzz that has always connected us, the feeling we learned to use to make us fly together, spikes through my whole body. I can almost see Merrin’s thoughts warring inside her head. Instinct is telling her to float up and out. Curiosity is making her stay. Our eyes connect, and I nod slightly, silently telling her, We can do this. She swallows and squeezes my hand, and I feel even stronger.

  Masters has been talking this whole ride down like there’s nothing weird about an entire elevator built into a section of the roof of your building or the border of SWAT guys who still surround the empty space on the roof, guns poised down. The ceiling slowly closes above us as we descend, on display for the dozens of people gathering to see what’s going on. Just as the huge square plate settles on the floor inside the building below, a ramp unfolds from it and onto the floor.

  We’re standing right in the middle of another testing arena. The platform that lowered us is large enough to accommodate us and maybe ten other people, and it’s only about one one-hundredth of the space in this room. All the standard stuff is here — the running tracks, the holoscreens, the ce
iling opening for the fliers — but that’s not all. To my left, shooting ranges line one half of the far wall. The pop and crack of guns punctuate the otherwise hushed undercurrent of noise.

  There’s a door across the room with a sign that reads “Language Acquisition.” I wonder if that’s just fancy for “This is where we learn Chinese” or if this Hub has some sort of crazy advanced method for learning languages.

  There’s also an obstacle course where kids our age are using their powers — extra-high jumping, super-strength, super-speed — to conquer the tasks, but their grunts and sweating tell me that there’s also a lot of plain, old, physical work going into it as well.

  Merrin and I follow President Masters down the ramp. He stretches his arms out like this is your typical tour of a typical Hub. “Incredible, isn’t it? Here at the CSH, we believe that it’s not enough just to use your superpower. Using these gifts to the greatest of our abilities means combining them with the abilities we share with the non-gifted of humanity.” A smile twitches the edges of his lips again, and I can’t get a read on his meaning. “It’s not a philosophy most of the other Hubs generally share, but it does mean that we cooperate to a great extent with the U.S. government — most especially, with Central Intelligence.”

  “So this is the superhero wing of the CIA?” Merrin asks, still staring at the kids navigating the obstacle course.

  “Yes. Much more importantly, it means that we believe very strongly in developing your abilities. If we only use them in the same way over and over, they will fade. That’s why you may notice that our testing arena is much larger than others you may have seen. We invest in our Supers so that they can invest back out into the world. Please, come this way.”

  He leads us through the widest path of the testing arena, pointing out stuff we could identify ourselves, until finally we exit through one of the doors, out into a hallway. Merrin’s eyes are still wide.

  I lean down to her and whisper in her ear. “Hey, you okay?”

  She gives me a quick smile. “Yeah, I just…” She quickens her steps to walk closer to Masters. “So is there somewhere we can…regroup? Put our stuff down?” She swings her messenger bag out in front of her, flashing it to Masters.

  His eyes sweep down over us. Even though the clothes we lifted from Social Welfare survived the supersonic flight pretty well, they’re still dirty. I’m sure we smell. I definitely need a shave.

  He chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I promise you I’m normally more considerate of our visitors’ needs. It’s just that you two are so remarkable.”

  I swear there’s something hungry in his eyes, and the sense of security and belonging I had when he first welcomed us fades just a bit.

  “Like the Social Welfare Hub, we have a small residential program. Ours is for school seniors and college students,” he continues, still walking.

  “So you actually recruit from colleges? Like the CIA?”

  “Yes, Miss Grey. Just like the CIA. Except that we know who the Super students are, by and large, far before they make it to a Normal college, and we offer them the equivalent, or better, of those classes here. As for the actual espionage training, we often partner with the CIA, but to be honest, it’s mostly for us to assess the flaws of that organization, which is becoming more outdated every year. Some of our Supers have extraordinary mental abilities that can analyze a system and find its fundamental flaws. The United States government is fond of clinging to its out-of-date institutions… Oh, I’m sorry. I’m probably boring you.”

  “No, no. No. I…that’s amazing.” That same hunger is in Merrin’s eyes — the one I see when she talks about the formulas tucked safely into her messenger bag.

  “Follow me. I’ll show you to someplace you can rest.”

  We move at a fast clip through some more hallways that remind me of a fancy hospital. Their dark, hardwood floors and smooth, white walls aren’t what I would expect to see at the Clandestine Services Hub, but the cold, sterile feeling in the air is. These floors remind me of the ones at my house, a world away. When I look down, that’s all I can think about. After all we’ve been through, I want to think that this place could be home, that we could find a place here.

  But after all we’ve been through, it’s really hard to believe we will.

  EIGHT

  President Masters leads us to a huge, round space that puts the tiny, shabby sitting room in the Social Welfare residential wing to shame. Clusters of couches with high-tufted cushions surround coffee tables in four different places. One of the seating areas faces a holoscreen that stretches across half the wall. A dozen kids, our age and maybe older, sit in small groups around the room. They chat as they scribble on tablets or pour over their readers, headphones plugged in to cancel out the noise.

  “This is our lounge,” Masters explains, smiling slightly. “You should be comfortable here while I get someone to find you rooms. Can I help you find a seat?”

  “No, thanks. We’ve got it.” Merrin grabs my hand and tugs me toward an empty cluster. Instead of collapsing into the soft cushions, she sits straight up, looking around excitedly. “What do you think they’re studying? Do you think it’s, like, homework?”

  “Probably,” I say. But I’m too distracted to care. My gaze scans the room looking for something — anything — that will help us. It seems perfectly normal; generic paintings of lighthouses and cottages in fields of flowers hang on the wall. One is of the beach. And the last one is a cornfield with the sun setting in the background. My heart pangs.

  I would have been happy there forever.

  Merrin presses her side into mine and rests her head against me. I let my lungs fill and my shoulders relax. At least this, I remind myself, is right. At least this is okay.

  “You okay?” she murmurs, turning her head to look up at me.

  “I feel like we don’t know what’s up or down. We need to figure out what’s going on. Here and outside…” I don’t add anything about my sisters, but I hope Merrin gets the point.

  “Yeah. For sure. But where are we going to get more information? I’m sure they’re not going to let us onto their network.”

  I don’t know how to answer that, and it just frustrates me even more. “As I see it, we’ve either fallen into something really good or really bad. They know about us, Mer. And they have tech that could stop Biotech in its tracks.”

  She nods. “I know. I was thinking the same thing. We’re well-protected — ”

  “But we also could be prisoners now.” I swipe my glasses off and run my hand down my face, wrinkling my nose when the stubble on my jaw itches my palm.

  “What?” Mer giggles. “I think it’s kind of cute.” She stretches up and presses her lips to the ridge under my jaw. “Mmm. Very cute.”

  My stomach swoops like it does when we fly, and the rest of the room fades out. The worry dims for just a moment. God, I wish the whole world would disappear. I wish I could hold her body close to me and lose myself there. If our lives were normal, we could do that.

  I want so badly to have a normal life.

  And I worry if I ever said that to her, she wouldn’t love me as much. Maybe not at all.

  Instead, my fingers stroke through her hair, and she leans into my touch, humming so low I can barely hear her. The warmth of being so close to her, of touching her like nothing is wrong and nothing has changed, overwhelms me for a moment.

  After a few seconds, though, Merrin looks at me, her eyes sparking with mischief, even though her voice is perfectly normal when she speaks. This girl is so expert at obscuring her emotions it’s uncanny. “We just have to wait and see. Obviously, Masters is trying to give us a sales pitch to stay here. We’re fascinating. Of course they want us. And it’s creepy because of what we went through back at Biotech. I know that’s what you’re thinking. We know more about what these Hub presidents are willing to do to get what they want, but that means we know what to look out for, too.”

  I start to protest her logic, but she jumps in
again. “I think we can do this. I think this’ll be okay.”

  There’s an odd, sucking feeling to the air all around us. Merrin bristles and sits up straighter. And then a light mist of rain coats our faces. Inside.

  “What the…?”

  A giggle comes from behind us, and someone wearing a grey cotton hoodie slides onto the couch. She pulls the hoodie down and shakes out a headful of shining, black waves shot through with red stripes.

  Somehow, Hayley’s here.

  Merrin gasps, then smiles. “Hayley! What the hell are you doing here?” Merrin swipes her hand down over her cheek, and it comes away shiny with water. “Impressive rainfall, by the way. We’re inside; there can’t be that much water in this air.”

  “Well, it comes from somewhere. I’m just getting better at… Eh, I don’t want to talk too much here.”

  “Yeah, we were just talking about that. But what the hell? Seriously, what are you doing here?”

  Hayley beams. She raises her arms up in the air, a huge “V” for victory. “Evacuated. They couldn’t keep the students in that dormitory wing after it got smashed, so we all either had to go home or to different Hubs. I’m the only one who wanted to come this far.” She slumps back on the couch, smirking.

  I stare at her, still stunned that she arrived almost as quickly as we did. “How are you even here?”

  “You’re not the only ones who can fly supersonic. I mean, it’s the standard for cross-country flights now anyway. Social Welfare just put me on the next one.”

  It’s another instance where I realize how sheltered my life was back home. I hadn’t ever given a thought to how other people traveled cross-country.

  “So the flight was — what? An hour?”

  Hayley shakes out her hair again. “You’re fast for humans but not for machines. Machines always win.”

  The horrible images of the Social Welfare building rocking, the residential wing burning, of the little kids huddling and crying in the doorway come rushing back. “Social Welfare,” I say. “Is everything okay?”