Operation Blackout

by J. L. Middleton

  He had the night all planned out. He would sit her down to her favorite meal, which he’d prepare by hand, and then tell her how much he loved and supported her. Then he would ask her to explain her recent change in behavior, its cause, and what he could do to help her. They’d talk for an hour, or however much longer she might need, and then he’d retire to his room to study his notes and textbooks. Of course, he doubted the confrontation would go smoothly, as it never did due to her hardheadedness, but it was something he could hope for as he began his diligent efforts to make the perfect dinner.

  - - -

  “Did you roll your eyes at me?”

  Cassie looked up and made eye contact with the customer who’d received the third wrong order in the last fifteen minutes. “No. My mascara got into my eye, and I was trying to subtly clear it, but I guess you caught me,” she hissed acerbically.

  “Are you being sarcastic with me, young lady?”

  “Of course not,” she replied sweetly. “Your order should be right back out.”

  “Get it right this time!” he snapped.

  Maybe I would if you didn’t request ten thousand modifications to a simple cup of coffee, she wanted to rebut, but she doubted her indulgent managers would appreciate her actively antagonizing their patrons. Her bosses had been supportive of her erratic schedule, and they’d let her have free food whenever she’d wanted, so she felt no need to offend the hardworking couple unnecessarily. Still, this didn’t mean that she couldn’t be spiteful toward the customer, and she decided that this order would now be decaffeinated. “Here you go, sir,” she said as she handed the new cup to the customer with her brightest forced smile. “Enjoy!” He muttered a response that she didn’t care to catch, and she turned her attention to the bell that rang when a new customer entered.

  Two men entered the restaurant, took a seat by the window, and immediately drowned their attention in their phones. They might be a couple or simply friends; it was hard to tell these days since everyone, herself included, socialized over the phone. Her problem with them was that the Wi-Fi was only free to paying customers, so she had to make note of their entrance. Some customers took their seats first to wait for companions and then ordered, but others only wanted to mooch the Internet and wouldn’t even place a perfunctory order. If the two men didn’t order something within ten minutes, she’d have to confront them and possibly ask them to leave.

  As if he could feel her gaze, the brunet with shaggy hair looked up and made eye contact, and she shuddered. While he wasn’t traditionally handsome, he wasn’t unattractive either, yet something about him creeped her out. Maybe it was because he was visibly scrutinizing her; most people had the good sense to realize that she was underage and, therefore, didn’t blatantly leer at her. His shorter, muscled companion must have noticed his stare because he knocked on the table, diverting the brunet’s attention, and shook his head reproachfully. Cassie took the opportunity to return to work; if someone needed to approach the couple later, she’d ask Sandee to do it for her.

  Her thoughts eventually turned to the past month as her body reverted to the automatic motions of working the machines and occasionally wiping the counter or refilling the cups. Though Sone had never called her, their correspondence had increased in response to her anxiety. He’d gone into depth about techniques she could utilize, such as keeping a lighter with her at all times, and he’d taught her methods to detect and evade BSI agents. Strangely, the BSI’s supposed brutality did not match her experience with the agent they’d sent to her apartment, but she decided that she would have to be ready in case she needed to put up a violent defense. While she’d gotten very good at coaxing flames to do her bidding, she still could not sustain a fire for longer than a few seconds; even so, a flash fire would be enough to protect herself or enable her to make an escape.

  Her newfound preparedness warred with her need for acceptance and placed her abilities on the opposite side of the spectrum. For every hour she spent practicing with fire, she spent an equal amount of time trying to blend in with her friends. What were the newest trends? She needed to acquaint herself with them before her peers did so that she could stay atop the fashion wave, and it was hard to balance this essential knowledge with her ambitious cheerleading and swimming goals. She wanted to excel—to be number one in both sports—but she needed to put in the hard work that was necessary to achieve this aim, and the effort left her with very little leisure time. She often napped in the back closet at work now, ostensibly with her managers’ blessing, and she knew that refuge wouldn’t last much longer; she needed to figure out a sensible pace before she burned herself out.

  Closing time finally came around, and Cassie and Sandee chased out the last of the customers, including the two suspicious men. Sandee cleaned while Cassie counted the register, logged the sales for the night, and prepared the deposit bag for the morning. Ever since Cassie had been mugged, the owners had decided that none of their underage employees would carry the risk of depositing the money bag; they would ensure that this was done by legal adults only. If there were none on shift, the deposit would go in the safe and would be delivered to the bank the following morning. After Cassie secured the safe, she helped Sandee with what was left of the cleaning and then locked up. The two parted ways at the door since Sandee took a different way home, but Cassie suddenly reconsidered her route when she spotted the duo from earlier leaning against a car down the street.

  With Sandee already out of sight, Cassie decided that it was best to ignore them and trudge onward. She took a deep, anxious breath, and then she quickly crossed the street away from the two men. They peeled away from the car, matching her pace conspicuously before crossing the street at the next crosswalk. She hastened her stride as she reached into her new gym bag and retrieved the pepper spray that her brother had recently procured for her. Their footsteps grew louder, and she glanced behind her to see that the gap between her and the men had closed. She then released the safety mechanism and held the device firmly in her grasp, ready to deploy it if the suspicious men threatened her. She felt a hand on her shoulder and sloppily shrugged it off as she turned around and sprayed a stream across the faces of her assailants.

  Unexpectedly, the spray didn’t connect with either of them. It went through the grim-faced, muscled man as if he weren’t even there, despite the fact that she could plainly see him. Remarkably, she could also see the street behind him, as if he were providing little more than visual static. The brunet, who had grabbed her shoulder, must have done something, because she saw the stream of pepper spray change direction and shoot away from all of them. The muscled man wasted no time in becoming solid again and punching her square in the face. She fell backwards onto the pavement, scraping her elbows and palms as she tried to catch herself. “Rho!” the brunet chastised.

  “I’m sorry, man. It was reflex.” Rho began to offer her his hand, but the other man frowned at him. He withdrew the offer of his hand so that the other man could help Cassie up. She recoiled from the brunet’s gentle touch, choosing instead to hold her wounded cheek gingerly, and when she did finally take his hand, he almost forced her to her feet due to her reluctance to accept his help. “I’m sorry. We’re used to more violent introductions,” the brunet explained. “You know, if you had used your ability instead, you wouldn’t have been so caught off guard. What’s the point of practicing if you’re not going to use it?”

  Cassie scowled, thoroughly confused by the situation. She’d thought that the two men had come to mug her or worse, and while she had been assaulted, they were now trying to hold a seemingly pleasant conversation with her. The brunet responded to her bewilderment by introducing himself. “I’m Sone. This is Rho.”

  “Sone?” she repeated, and then it clicked that her pen pal’s name hadn’t been pronounced “sun,” as she’d assumed. “Sone!” she said, this time with surprise, and actually took in his appear
ance. The Sone she’d been imagining had been only a little older than she was and was perhaps a recent college graduate who was blessed with strong, handsome features and bright, playful eyes. The real Sone was a bit older—perhaps even twice her age—and had a lined, weathered face. He had an athletic build and an inviting smile. His fashion sense could use a little work, as he wore a nondescript T-shirt, a battered jacket, and some sort of fatigue pants and boots. She supposed that a woman his age might find him attractive, but he certainly didn’t live up to her imagination, and she felt her crush deflate instantaneously. “What are you doing here?”

  “You mentioned that the BSI visited you last month. I was concerned. I came as soon as I could.”

  Flustered, she replied, “But why? You could have called.”

  “To ask you to join SION,” he explained. “They protect Others like us.” His face softened, and his concern made him resemble her brother. “Remember what I said about the BSI? I don’t want you going through that.”

  She took a step back from them, crossing her arms in front of her and gripping her bag tightly. “I don’t either, but…” She had conducted her own research on the BSI, and she knew what the agency had done to Others; it placed its victims in modern-day internment camps, from where they disappeared forever. But she also was not ready to confront this grim reality. Practicing her abilities didn’t mean that she was a freak; it meant that she was prepared to defend herself from that fate. However, willingly leaving with these two men meant acknowledging and accepting that unnatural part of her, and she couldn’t. She wouldn’t voluntarily become an outcast.

  Besides, she barely knew Sone; she had corresponded with him about Others only, and not personal affairs, because he’d refused to disclose anything about himself. He’d supported her through her most confusing moments, but he hadn’t trusted her with his personal information, so she’d only known the construct of her youthful crush. “I have cheerleading practice tomorrow,” she added weakly. “And my brother is expecting me home soon.”

  Sone nodded. “Okay,” he mollified, using his open palms to illustrate that he wasn’t a threat. “We’ll be around for a few days if you change your mind.”

  Rho hissed through clenched teeth, “We don’t have time for this.” He closed the distance between himself and Sone, and turning his mouth away from her, he added quietly, “Antithesis is on our trail. Why don’t we just grab the girl, take her back with us, and convince her there once we’re safe?”

  “Because forcing her to choose would make us no better than the BSI,” he replied, either for her benefit or not caring whether she overheard.

  Rho balled his fists and punched the air behind the group. “We’re gonna talk later,” he grunted irritably and then started walking away, most likely to give them privacy.

  Sone turned back to her and said, “Go home. Talk to your brother if you need to. We’ll—”

  She heard Rho swear, and he sprinted the few steps back to the group. “She’s here,” he warned, and though Cassie wanted to ask who, she was immediately distracted by an unnerving sensation. She had grown used to being able to perceive ignition sources around her, and she felt them being snuffed out like a thick, wet blanket covering the edges of her senses.

  “How close?” Sone asked, his voice intensified.

  His partner closed his eyes. “Two blocks,” he replied. Cassie could feel the extent of the blanket’s sphere of influence as it drew closer and the ignition sources denied to her shifted as if they followed an invisible force. Even though she didn’t understand the phenomenon, she doubted it heralded anything pleasant.

  Suddenly, the thunderous report of a pistol filled the street, and Rho briefly became ethereal as a bullet raced through his formerly occupied position. Then, the report reverberated past them again, as if the sound waves were reversing their path, and Cassie lost track of what ensued as a heavy body forced her momentarily to the ground and then dragged her into an alcove. “Stay here,” Rho growled, shoving her firmly against the wall, and he rejoined his partner on the street.

  “Aren’t you breaking the terms?” Sone’s voice boomed in the direction of their foes, but his body language didn’t indicate that he had shouted. Cassie could see a dark-skinned woman sprinting toward them and taking cover behind cars as the man with the pistol kept firing. She couldn’t hear the shots; she could see only the vague recoil motion of the man in the distance, and she realized that all sounds had disappeared. Unfortunately, the blanket had grown closer with the woman’s approach, and disinclined to discover what happened when Others fought, she decided that she would sneak away while her footsteps were muted. She glimpsed Rho dodging the electrical probes of a Taser held by the woman while Sone seemed to keep dancing backward away from the blanket and dividing his attention between the gunman and the woman. Apparently, the woman’s blanket only kept them from using their abilities within it, but it did not negate their effects entirely. Neither party had their attention on Cassie, and she quickly dashed down the street, ducking into an alleyway as soon as she could, and hurried away from the commotion. She could hear police sirens in the distance and decided to stay away from them as well.

  - - -

  Amanda Darling-Whitcomb was elegant as ever as she nibbled daintily at her dandelion and arugula salad; subconsciously, she knew that each pose she struck was picture perfect. “Never give your rivals any ground,” her mother had always said, though her strategic scope had encompassed only competing females. However, Amanda knew that being close to flawless also made it harder for her political enemies to undermine her. Unfortunately, one of her adversary–allies was sitting across from her at the moment.

  Jack Everest sported a sanguine grin as he ate and casually dabbed the corners of his mouth to catch the occasional drop of blood dripping from his juicy steak. Enthusiastically, he recounted his latest court triumph, careful to excise from the conversation any specifics that would land him in legal trouble. He seemed particularly delighted to detail how he’d twisted the words of the star witness—an upstanding society wife who’d contrived to entrap his client in an embezzlement scheme—into a dubious and unpalatable narrative. Given the way he described the woman, Amanda thought he might be making a point of how he could distort any affiliation between them to his advantage. If it came to this, she’d hire one of the partners from his own law firm; she was far more important to their business than Jack was and he’d be hung out to dry. Jack was not as clever or invulnerable as he thought, and regardless, he wouldn’t ruin her appetite today.

  “Honestly, though, these sorts of trials are quite dull. I’d love to become involved in a murder trial—a real one,” he said, suddenly shifting topics. “Like this recent string of murders in upstate New York. I think I might even do it pro bono.”

  “String?” she repeated indifferently. “I thought there had been only one.”

  Jack’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you missed it,” he said eagerly. “They found a mass grave in Johnstown. The media is just eating it up. They’re calling him the Bramble Butcher because he buried their remains in some sort of a briar patch.” He took a sip of tea. “Of course, I’d hate to be the one in charge when they fail to convict the perpetrator. Any forensic evidence from that area is bound to be tainted since it’s a cold crime scene, and it took them a while to realize there was more than one body. People trampled all through the area. Who knows what sort of missteps the investigators made in preserving the evidence?” His winsome chuckle was incongruous with the gruesome conversation topic, though he kept his tone lighthearted. “But with a prolific serial killer, such as this Bramble Butcher, it’s essential to convict. Failure could destroy a political career.”

  Amanda gave a deep sigh of displeasure. “Yes, it would be a shame, but thankfully, Johnstown is an hour north and far outside my jurisdiction.”

  “For now,” he replied mysteriously.
As always, his expression and emotional state were inscrutable, but it was clear that he knew more than he had chosen to disclose. “Still, I would think it’d be prudent for a woman with your aspirations to have connections with other counties. It’s always advantageous to have allies publicly endorse you. Your colleague might appreciate it if you reached out to him. He needn’t accept your assistance for you to benefit politically from the offer.”

  She wished that he’d get to the point; unfortunately, he spoke plainly only when he was threatening her. “Do you know something?”

  “Simply that it’s not in your best interest to allow the police to investigate further and find the real culprit,” he advised. “It will not turn out well for you or any politician in Johnstown.”

  While her intuition told her that this wasn’t the entire truth, she knew better than to confront Jack directly. Perhaps he was closely connected to the murderer—an affiliation that, given enough time and information, she might use to her advantage—and if this was the case, she might be able to finally free herself of her debt to him. “What do you suggest?” she asked coyly.

  “That you either sort a roadblock or a patsy for the police,” he advised. “Any sort of misdirection from the real culprit.”

  “Again, I think you overestimate my influence, Mr. Everest,” she replied pleasantly. “But I will see what I can do.” She had no jurisdiction over Johnstown, which limited her sway over the proceedings. She could offer experienced detectives and forensic technicians to her counterpart, but despite involving her personnel in the investigation, she would still have no influence over it. She had no personal pull within the police department, apart from positional power, and she doubted she could use it to modify the results to Jack’s liking.