Even in my fractured state I knew I was deluding myself. I’d heard his mocking laughter as Marco tried to stop him. Benjamin hadn’t been concerned when Cyber pulled the knife on me, only when the situation had become messy.
Elder Campbell’s dire warning had been correct: I’d wandered outside of my umbrella and it had led me to destruction. I was lucky to have met a villain as kind and gentle as Benjamin. Now that I thought about it, could a villain be kind and gentle? Was anything about Benjamin genuine? If I’d gone home with him to meet his parents tomorrow, would he have attacked me?
I cried myself into a new headache.
There was no point in lying to myself anymore. I wasn’t a hero. I wore the mask and had the lineage, but I was a disgrace to my family and unable to bring honor to them. I questioned every order, thought about my happiness before the functionality of my team, and worst of all, I despised my calling.
There was only one thing left to do now.
Taking a deep breath, I climbed over the barrier. The only thing between life and death was the grip I had on the steel railing. I hoped Marco wouldn’t miss me too badly. Even now, years later, he still suffered from Gregory’s death.
A shining memory of my younger brother played in my mind: carefree and so alive, laughing wildly while chasing a rabbit for dinner, the other boys calling after him. He’d caught the rabbit in one of his snares that day and prepared it for us himself. I could still hear his laughter.
I hung my head, regretting my decision to think about my dead brother. He never would have wanted me to jump off the bridge. He’d be angry and ashamed of me for abandoning my duties.
Oh, what the hell did he know? He was dead, drowned by a Westerner. Maybe he’d be happy to see me, wherever he was. Where did people go when they died? I wanted to know.
An image of Gregory’s unimpressed, are-you-kidding-me expression brought me back to reality. Committing suicide would only make me more of a failure. Besides, my stupid powers would probably have prevented me from dying from the fall.
Sighing, I glanced over my shoulder towards the lights of the city and wondered if I could run back quickly enough before anybody noticed I had taken detour to the city limits. I was weak and selfish and unworthy of my position, but I was a superhero. I had responsibilities. My suicidal impulse melted away, leaving nothing but blank misery. I climbed back over the rail.
I started the dreary walk back to base camp, swallowing my feelings yet again, not letting myself think about Benjamin or of the blood pouring out of my body earlier.
Whenever a surge of emotion threatened to engulf me, I stomped it lower and lower until I was more numbed than any pill could make me.
15
Base camp was just coming into view in the distance when Marco sprinted towards me. “Jill! I told Patrick you left to chase down the guys. He’s furious at you for leaving me, so please tell me you caught them.”
I was too numb to care. “No, I didn’t catch them.” I marched past him and into the house.
Patrick was waiting for me.
“Where the hell have you been?” He stomped up to me until his face was inches from mine. “You abandoned Marco! Do you know how many protocols you just broke? He could’ve died! You could’ve run into a trap! What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?”
He slapped me, but I didn’t feel the sting.
I closed my eyes and breathed. “Are you done?” I opened my eyes.
Ember and Reid were peeking around a door frame. Marco was behind me in the corner.
He sputtered. “Am I…what did you just say to me? Who do you think you are?”
Beneath the numbness, an intense ball of emotion started to spiral like a tornado, stripping away my inhibitions. Ember’s voice prickled in my mind. Jillian, calm down. I forced her out with surprising ease.
“I think I’m the best-trained fighter on this team,” I replied quietly. “As you are well aware.”
“You could be God for all I care, but I’m the leader and you will submit to me. I am the authority, you’re a bug. You’re not even worthy to breathe the same air as me, do you hear me? You’re just a—”
“Patrick, shut up.”
Total silence followed.
As if in slow motion I saw him raise his hand and swing it towards my cheek again. Every ounce of my training, twenty years of ingrained teaching, screamed at me to accept the punishment of my leader.
I mentally squashed the ball of heat in my stomach until it diminished to a mere speck…but in the next fraction of a second, the speck exploded into fireworks of rage.
I caught his hand in midair and squeezed it until bones snapped, then I shoved him against the wall. Patrick howled and his knees buckled as I kept my iron grip on his broken hand.
I slammed him once more into the wall, throwing my weight into it and pinning him there. My teammates were yelling at me.
“Who do you think I am?” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m your teammate who is sick and tired of putting up with a pathetic excuse for a leader.”
I punched him in the jaw.
“I hate being on your team.”
I kneed him in the stomach.
“I hate looking at your ugly face every single day.”
I felt his telekinesis weakly pulling at me, so I threw him down the hallway to distract him.
“And I hate that you’ve made me feel like crap just for breathing.”
I kicked him in the gut.
I was tossed backwards into the living room by an invisible force, flipping over the couch onto the coffee table, which fractured under my weight.
I jumped up and vaulted over the couch. I tackled Patrick to the ground, aiming a punch for his face. He moved his head aside, and my fist hit the floor, the woodgrain splintering from the impact.
He kicked me off, the thrust bolstered by telekinesis. “Someone get her!” He held his stomach where I’d kicked him before.
I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t know what I was fighting for anymore, but if I had to fight my whole team, I would.
Nobody moved.
Patrick’s eyes, before filled with nothing but malice, widened in shock.
I lunged at him again, pulling him down to the floor, and this time he wasn’t able to push me off. I unleashed a volley of blows to his face, neck, and torso. His telekinesis tugged at me, growing weaker every second.
Finally, it ceased and Patrick’s eyes shut.
I looked down at my unconscious leader. He was breathing raggedly and oozing blood from his nose and mouth. I could hardly hear my own thoughts over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. A sharp pain in my hands made me gasp—I was clenching my fists so tightly that my nails had cut into my palms, and my right hand’s knuckles were raw from striking the floor. I unclenched my fists.
There was a shuffling behind me and I spun around.
“Don’t!” Ember held her hands up. “We’re not going to fight you, are we, guys?”
Marco and Reid were flattened against the wall. Reid’s eyes darted from me to Patrick and then to me again. “Go. Just go.”
“Are you going to follow?” My hand hovered over one of my knives. I’d seen him watching the speech next to Patrick only days before, and he’d always been the one to give the best answers during the nighttime readings. I had no ill feelings towards Reid, but was he a threat? He was a rules man. “Are you going to defend your…friend?”
“Patrick is not my friend,” he said, his voice hard. Reid matched my cold glare with his own. “Hell no, he is not my friend. As if I’d ever defend him.”
“Swear it.”
Reid put his right hand over his heart, the age-old sign of honor in the camps. “I swear. If we meet again, it’ll be as real friends.”
Patrick groaned.
I spun around, the adrenaline rush ebbing and leaving in its wake icy cold fear. I’d broken two cardinal rules now: don’t fraternize with the forbidden families and never attack your leader. Without sayi
ng anything to my teammates, I sprinted up the stairs towards my room.
I felt Ember in the back of my mind. Hurry!
I changed into civilian clothes faster than I ever had before, dropping my uniform onto the floor. I grabbed my old pink backpack and stuffed clothes into it, along with my blue yarn bracelet and random items that were laying around my room.
I rushed down the stairs, where Patrick was still lying on the floor in the hallway, beginning to stir. Before I could stop myself, I fished his debit card out his pocket and then half-tossed him into his office and slammed the door.
Ember, Reid, and Marco stood by the front door. Ember handed me a plastic bag full of food. “The card’s PIN is zero seven zero four. This is all we have that travels well. I’m sorry I couldn’t find—”
I hugged her as hard as I could, and then the men were hugging us, too. I broke away. “Come with me.” I took in their frightened faces. “None of you fought me off. He’ll…he’ll be angry.”
Ember bit her lip. “You need to go now, Jill.”
I slipped out the door and into the darkness. Before I was fifty feet from the house, the door banged open and Marco ran down the steps. “Jill!”
I turned around. He didn’t have any supplies, so he clearly intended to ask me to stay. “Marco, go back inside. Save your breath.”
He shook his head, tears spilling down his face. “Please don’t go. Please. We came here together and it’s gotta stay that way. We can fix this.”
“This is best for all of us. I’m not fit to be on a team.”
“But if you leave, you can’t be a hero anymore. You could get hurt. It’s not safe out there. Where are you going to go?”
I put my hands on his shoulders. Though he was nearly an adult, he seemed so small. “I’ve made mistakes that I can’t fix.” I hugged him once more and gently pushed him away. “I’m sorry.”
I fled down the street and didn’t look back.
16
The first thing I did was max out the debit card.
When Patrick’s account information popped up, I squinted at the screen. Why did his personal account have over two thousand dollars? I didn’t dwell on it; I took all of the account’s contents and put the cash in various places on my person. After I secured the money, I set out looking for a good place to spend the rest of the night.
My initial impulse was to go to Café Stella, though I knew it was closed. My chest constricted painfully when I thought of the central figure in my memories there, and I vowed to never think his name again. To me, he would just be The Criminal.
My second thought was to go the shelter The Criminal had mentioned the first day we met, but that seemed too predictable. What if Patrick decided to look for me? After all, I had just thrashed him and stolen his money. I headed towards Varina Davis Park, which had plenty of trees, rock outcroppings, and ditches, but disregarded the idea. The park was too obvious of a hiding place. I kept walking, making my way to Old Town.
I had literally no idea what to do next. Being a superhero was all I knew how to do. My whole education revolved around that life. I couldn’t go home to Chattahoochee camp—they’d beat me, or worse, haul me in front of a tribunal headed by Elder St. James. I couldn’t go back to base camp, because Patrick would certainly kill me. I didn’t know anyone in the city besides The Criminal, so I couldn’t crash on someone’s couch.
A new feeling washed over me: uncertainty about what lay ahead in my life. I’d always been under an authority umbrella. Now, I was outside of anyone’s umbrella, lacking direction. Who was my authority now? Who would make decisions for me? Who would correct me when I was wrong? My new-found independence wasn’t natural and I knew nothing good could come from it.
Still, I wasn’t going back to either camp. I had to make a decision.
Was I a civilian now? If so, what did a young civilian woman do with her time? I knew they got jobs and went to school and spent time with other young civilians, but I had no idea what those activities entailed.
How did someone go about getting a job? Was there a test to take? How did people decide which school to go to? Could you show up one day and just listen to a lecture? A criminal I’d once met—I gulped—talked about “applying” to nursing school. What other kind of schools were there? Was I even smart enough to apply to school? I doubted it.
Fatigue set in. I walked for an hour, dragging my feet and scanning for a quiet place to sleep that would shield me from both bad weather and my old team, should they come looking for me.
I turned down a dark avenue that led into an upscale neighborhood full of town houses and community gardens growing roses and tomatoes. I passed James Oglethorpe High School, where I’d once told The Criminal I’d fallen down bleachers. He’d pretended to care.
A block beyond the high school, there was a darkened community building of some sort. While I watched, a woman walked out the front door and hurried to her car. Was the door unlocked? I went up to the building and pulled on the handle. It opened, so I went inside. Maybe there’d be a bathroom to sleep in.
The lobby of the building was dark except for a sliver of low, reddish light coming from a room off to the side.
Curious, I peeked in and saw a table displaying a burning candle inside a red hurricane glass next to an ornate sunburst decoration that I thought might be made of gold. There were several wooden benches in the room facing the table. What a strange room.
I sat down on the back bench and looked at the sunburst decoration. My tiredness settled on me like a blanket, and I slumped down on the bench, allowing the hypnotic flickering to pull me into a dreamless sleep.
I awoke to the deep bong of a bell somewhere above me.
The hard surface on which I slept tricked my sleepy brain into believing I was on the ground in my former room, so I wasn’t expecting to fall when I rolled over. I landed painfully on the scratchy carpet with a yelp. Rubbing my elbow, I sat up and saw that I’d fallen off the bench.
The door opened. A spectacled man in a black dress peered down at me, his eyebrows raised, but he was smiling. “I came in here to wake you up. It was very sweet of you to take one of the early morning slots, but I think, perhaps, you were too ambitious?” He laughed.
I smiled and nodded, not understanding at all what he was talking about. He continued, “Now I feel bad. I thought I knew all the adorers, but I don’t remember seeing you here before. Are you new in the parish?”
“Um, yeah.” I grabbed my backpack. “Sorry about falling asleep.”
I walked past the man and out into the main lobby.
Several dozen people were lined up at the far end of the room, which had a double doorway leading into a large hall filled with rows of tables and chairs, at which were sitting unkempt people in tattered clothes eating pancakes and eggs off paper plates.
My stomach growled.
A middle-aged woman hurried over to the man. “Father Kokoski, you’ve got a phone call from the hospital downtown. Mrs. Gruneisen’s taken a turn for the worse and her family is being called in. They need you there as soon as possible.”
He ducked into an office labeled Fr. Peter Kokoski, FSSP.
I wandered over to the line that led to the table where cheerful women in simple dresses and head coverings served breakfast. While I waited for my turn, I looked around the room.
I finally recalled a lesson about civilian life from years before and decided I was in a church.
I’d never been in a church before. A display case in the corner held pamphlets about “sacraments”, though I didn’t know the term. A silver water dispenser with a spigot sat in the corner. Near the display case, next to a small statue of a pretty woman in blue, a large sign with an arrow pointed the way to the gymnasium.
A cork board on the far end of the room, beneath a horrible decoration depicting a half-naked man nailed to a cross was covered with pictures of children in green plaid uniforms. The sign above the cork board read “Sacred Heart Students Meet Bishop John.”
When I got to the head of the line, the woman serving pancakes did a double take. “We don’t get a lot of people your age here.” She ladled syrup on my pancakes. “Are you okay, dear?”
I took my plate. “I’m just hungry. I won’t come back again.”
She shook her head. “Come back whenever you need to, sweetie.” The endearment sounded as natural as my own mother’s.
I blinked away sudden tears, uncomfortable with strangers being so nice to me. In a way she reminded me of The Criminal.
I took a foam cup of orange juice and searched for an empty seat with my plate in hand. I avoided eye contact with the many people who paused mid-chew to watch me walk past them. A woman wearing a threadbare shirt leaned over to her neighbor and whispered something. The other woman’s eyes widened and she nodded.
They know you’re an outsider. They know you don’t deserve a hot breakfast as nice as this. I sat down at an empty table in the corner and propped my elbow up next to me, trying to shield myself from view. I ate my pancakes and eggs mechanically, too self-conscious to enjoy the delicious food heaped on my plate. As soon as I finished, I intended to leave the church and make my way to the edges of the city. I didn’t know where I’d go, but as long as I was in the city limits I was in danger.
I peeked past my arm. Two old men at the far end of the row of tables were looking at me with curious expressions.
I went back to looking at my food, blushing furiously. I realized I was the youngest person in the room, but why were they staring like that?
An elderly man wearing dog tags and a patched field jacket slid into the seat in front of me, his plate piled with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. There was bacon? I couldn’t help perking up.
Without a word he took the bacon from his plate and laid it onto mine.
I jerked my head up. “Sir, you don’t have to—”
He held up his hand and shook his head. “Please accept it as a thank you.”
I frowned. “A thank you for what?”
“For saving my life the other night,” he said matter-of-factly.
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