Miracle’s Touch
Justice Squad Book 1
J. B. Garner
J. A. Cipriano
Copyright © 2018 by J. B. Garner & J.A. Cipriano
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
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Also by J.B. Garner
Also by J.A. Cipriano
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Thank You for reading!
Author’s Note
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Also by J.B. Garner
Dwarf for Hire
Rune Service
Once in a Blue Rune
The Push Chronicles
Indomitable
Indefatigable
Incorruptible
Three Seconds to Legend
The Opening Bell
The Tale of the Tape
The Twelfth Labor
The Inspector Redmane Mysteries
The Songstress Murders
Clans of Shadow (With J.A. Cipriano)
Heart of Gold
Feet of Clay
Fists of Iron
Elements of Wrath Online (With J.A. Cipriano)
Ring of Promise
The Vale of Three Wolves
Crystalfire Keep
Also by J.A. Cipriano
Starcrossed Dragons
Riding Lightning
Grinding Frost
Swallowing Fire
The Pen is Mightier
The Goddess Harem
The Tiger’s Offer
World of Ruul
Soulstone: Awakening
Soulstone: The Skeleton King
Soulstone: Oblivion
Bug Wars
Doomed Infinity Marine
Doomed Infinity Marine 2
The Legendary Builder
The Builder’s Sword
The Builder’s Greed
The Builder’s Pride
The Builder’s Wrath
The Builder’s Throne
The Builder’s Conquest
The FBI Dragon Chronicles
A Ritual of Fire
A Ritual of Death
Elements of Wrath Online
Ring of Promise
The Vale of Three Wolves
Crystalfire Keep
Kingdom of Heaven
The Skull Throne
Escape From Hell
The Thrice Cursed Mage
Cursed
Marked
Burned
Seized
Claimed
Hellbound
The Half-Demon Warlock
Pound of Flesh
Flesh and Blood
Blood and Treasure
The Lillim Callina Chronicles
Wardbreaker
Kill it with Magic
The Hatter is Mad
Fairy Tale
Pursuit
Hardboiled
Mind Games
Fatal Ties
Clans of Shadow
Heart of Gold
Feet of Clay
Fists of Iron
The Spellslinger Chronicles
Throne to the Wolves
Prince of Blood and Thunder
Found Magic
May Contain Magic
The Magic Within
Magic for Hire
Witching on a Starship
Maverick
Planet Breaker
1
“I’m sorry to be cutting it so close, Dr. Blair,” I said with a smile as I settled down in one of the leather backed chairs, smoothing out my silk slacks. “Christine Klein, New Harbor Sentinel.” I tapped my press badge for emphasis.
As I looked around, I found myself a bit stunned by the anemic press turnout. While this wasn’t some huge breakthrough event, anything coming out of Superhuman Observation and Studies Laboratories (S.O.S. for short) was worth more news coverage than what I saw before me. The place was owned by Paragon, the world’s greatest superhero, after all, and the white-walled exhibition hall could easily seat a hundred members of the press and public.
Instead, counting myself, there were exactly seven members of the press on hand, most of them connected to small tech blogs. Davey Smith, a cub reporter with the local division of the Super News Network, was the closest thing to television representation here, and I was the only person who might even be considered a big-name journalist.
“There’s no need for apologies, Ms. Klein,” Dr. Becca Blair said with a look of relief. “I’m just glad you didn’t miss any of the presentation. I think you’ll find it fascinating, and hopefully so will your readers.”
I wasn’t worried that she was laying it on a bit thick. She had to be nervous about the turn-out after all. No, I was worried at the undercurrent of desperation and the focus on me. She had a glare in her muddy blue eyes, slightly distorted by her glasses, that spoke of murder and damnation. I couldn’t blame her. The brief Jackson Cabe, my editor, had me read on the ride over to the lab went on and on about how this was Dr. Blair’s life work. If my life’s work only rated a blip to the rest of the world, I’d be upset too.
Other than her death stare, Dr. Blair didn’t particularly stand out. Not that she was precisely plain, no. Shorter than me by a head (not hard, I’m rather tall), she had the looks I’d wager most men would find attractive. Soft curves and an hourglass shape were still visible through conservative clothes and a lab coat, but for all that, the feel I got from her was a mix of frustration, anger, and embarrassment as she watched me take a seat in the empty front row.
Still, I chalked it up to nerves on the good doctor’s part as I flipped open my little leather notebook, complete with real, honest-to-God paper, and produced my pencil, previously tucked behind my ear and hidden by my wavy copper hair. The New Harbor Sentinel was one of the last great newspapers left on the planet, an old-fashioned institution, and I handled my journalism in a similar old-fashioned way.
“I hope I'm not presumptive,” I grinned, flashing my green eyes back at the nearly nonexistent press corps behind me, “but I think we’re all ready to see what you have for us today, doctor.”
A smile graced Dr. Blair’s lips but the anger and desperation plain in her eyes never quite left. “Let’s begin, then, with what may be the most significant development in science’s understanding of the human mind and collective intelligence in history. The neural feedback bonding machine you see behind me may very well represent the greatest step forward for humanity since the Boom of 1948.”
It was
a tall claim, equating her invention with the rise of superhumanity in the aftermath of World War II. Still, her statement made me eager to know more. I wasn’t sure why, but something told me the doctor wasn’t one for hyperbole, at least when it came to her work anyway.
Blair flashed a smile at me before continuing. “While a bold claim, I think I will prove to you today why that’s true.” She turned slightly, gesturing behind her. “Behold, my masterpiece! The Neural Feedback Bonder!”
The device sat in a clear glass box with a sealed door on one side and controls for the robotic arms inside on the other. It was probably a mobile clean room, something to seal the device off from any harmful dirt, dust, or microbes in the air.
The thing itself looked like a hot mess of wires, circuits, and cables contained in an open metal box, like an old-fashioned tower computer without an outer case. While the twisted mishmash of wires, lights, and circuit boards didn’t surprise me that much, what with this being a prototype and all, I still would have thought it would have been, well, cleaned up a bit for presentation.
“With Neural Feedback Bonding servers,” – she put air quotes around the word – “erected around New Harbor, humanity, superpowered or not, can finally experience true, symbiotic neural connections. Imagine, a world of instant transmission of thoughts, ideas, and feelings!”
“How does that differ from the information network we already have, doctor?” I asked, waving my pencil a bit to get her attention. Blair’s eyes snapped to me and narrowed. I didn’t turn away, meeting her blue eyes with my jade green ones, trying to show my sympathy through them. “I don’t mean to make your work sound anything less than what it is. It’s an honest question. We already have instant communication across the globe as it is.”
That seemed to placate Dr. Blair enough to force a smile. “I am glad you asked, Ms. Klein. While we do have international communication as it is, there is a difference between words on a screen or a voice in your ear and joined minds giving and taking in a constant mental union. People won’t simply be talking, they will have a full collaboration of thought, idea, and feeling.”
My pencil flew across the paper. It sounded incredible, but also pretty dangerous. I wondered if Robert Washington, the public face of Paragon, knew this was being worked on in his laboratory. The answer would almost surprise me either way. I knew Robert Washington was too busy leading his double life as Paragon to futz around with the day-to-day at S.O.S., but at the same time, I’d always gotten the impression he still made time to know what was going on in his company. That he’d be okay with something that sounded like it let people hear each other’s thoughts was curious to say the least.
“What about issues of personal privacy?” I asked. “It doesn’t sound like we would have privacy anymore. And moreover, what about supervillains? I’m not sure I want Magnetaur, the Jurassic Master of Electromagnetism, in my head.”
The few affirmative grunts from the peanut gallery behind me confirmed I wasn’t alone. Not many people would want a mutant Allosaurus with magnetic powers and a bad attitude to be in their heads either.
Dr. Blair’s brow knit behind her glasses in pure consternation. “I don’t think you’re quite grasping the full extent of what I am speaking of. When humanity and superhumanity reach full psychic symbiosis, there will be no heroes or villains. We will share a common understanding so there will only be a utopia afterward, one built on combined intellect instead of who has the might to define right and wrong.”
Chewing on my lip, I took shorthand notes of everything Blair said. Honestly, I agreed with a lot of what she was talking about. A world where everyone was joined together in harmony did indeed sound like a utopia. What was the cost, though? Would just throwing everybody’s mind together really do that? Did people have hearts big enough to take in so many people at once?
“That sounds amazing, Dr. Blair,” I finally replied, tapping my chin with my pencil. “But there are a lot of people that won’t agree. If this works as you say it does, how do you plan to assuage the fears of the general population at the idea of, well, joining their minds together like that? New Harbor might be the jewel of the Northeast, the Port of Tomorrow as it’s been called, but this might be a step into the future the city isn’t prepared to make.”
I could see the throbbing vein in Becca Blair’s forehead as her consternation with me warred with the fact that I basically agreed with her. “I’m certain after a series of limited demonstrations in controlled areas of the city that the people —"
She was cut off mid-sentence when Davey Smith’s cell phone went off, an obnoxious, ear-rending beeping that was set way too loud for this sort of event. Flushing red, the young newsman pulled out the slim phone from his pocket and answered it, speaking with no regard to Dr. Blair’s presentation.
“Smith,” he chirped, and after a moment, his eyes went wide as he stood up. “Fortress and Ballista are busting the Ivy Grove gang? I’m on my way.”
The bastard didn’t even say goodbye as he rushed out of the presentation room, two of the other blog folks following in his wake.
Blair’s knuckles turned pale white against her olive skin as her grip tightened on either side of the podium. I thought for a moment she would just turn around and stomp off, but her mouth, contorted in rage as it was, did open to something other than a scream of frustration.
“Fine, I won’t waste too much of your precious time,” she hissed. “What better way to demonstrate the capabilities of NFB technology to you than with a live demonstration? Once you see it in action, you won’t doubt the greatness of my invention.”
Now, I’m not one to normally sit by and watch someone operate experimental technologies while on a rage bender, but I also didn’t want to embarrass the doctor further. She had already had the world at large kick her in the teeth today. The last thing she needed was for me, the one person she looked to for some hope of success, to call her out on the dangers of what she was about to do. Besides, there were certainly multiple safety features in place to protect both the doctor and the press on hand.
That was when I realized that instead of going from the controls to the manipulator arms, Dr. Blair threw open the sealed door with abandon, the hiss of pressurized air blowing through her well-coiffed black hair. “When you see this, experience the oneness of neural bonding, you’ll be sharing this day with all your friends, your family, your readers,” she ranted as she moved towards the device.
The thing was already sparking dangerously, reacting badly to the sudden introduction of outside contamination as I threw my notebook aside and got to my feet. I’d been in more than one dangerous situation in my life, as had any native of New Harbor with all the heroes and villains around, and I knew the only way to stave off catastrophe now was to do something.
Too bad I hadn’t come to that realization a good minute earlier.
“Dr. Blair,” I called out as I started to move as fast as my heels would let me.
“You’ll remember this day forever,” the doctor practically cackled as she turned sidelong to look at me rushing after her, right before she pushed a big, cherry-red button on the side of the machine’s frame.
I didn’t feel the explosion as the entire device blew up like a car in a cheap action movie, but I sure saw the tremendous white-pink flash before it hit me, an awfully bizarre color for an explosion, even in New Harbor. My only thought before both Dr. Blair and I were thrown back into oblivion was how it would be a miracle if I survived this.
2
I woke to the sound of screeching sirens and a motley of pink-white flashes fading in my eyes and leaving me in pitch black darkness. Every inch of my body ached like I’d gone ten rounds with a bare-knuckle boxer, and as I tried to suck in a breath, the crushing weight bearing down on my chest, legs, and arms made it nearly impossible.
Panic threatened to overwhelm me, but I fought it off as best I could. Sure. darkness surrounded me, and every time I tried to breathe, I wound up choking on dust while
acrid smoke burned my eyes, but I was alive, and that had to count for something. I’d survived when Dr. Blair had thrown open the clean room door causing that explosion.
Hell, even when the weird energy flowing out of her crazy machine had hit me like a lightning bolt that set every nerve in my body on fire, I’d survived. I couldn’t lose it now, no matter how hopeless it seemed. If I could just keep it together, someone would have to come soon. Emergency services, Paragon, any superhero nearby. I just needed to survive until then, just needed to wait for the heroes to save the day like they always did.
That was when I heard them, through the debris, the crackle of flames, and the wailing sirens. Painful cries, sobbing pleas for help. Worse yet, in the whirling storm of my heart, I could feel the fear and panic in those voices clawing at my mind and emotions.
While I’d somehow been knocked into a crevice of relative safety, the others hadn’t been so lucky. How did I know that? Even in my horrible situation, my reporter’s curiosity gnawed at that question, at the strange new sensations I was picking up, but at the end of the day, I did know. The other reporters were out there, trapped under the debris.
They were hurt, maybe even dying, and I knew in my heart of hearts that some of them wouldn’t last long enough for ‘soon’ to be quick enough.
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