The little Alexandra voice in my head can be a real bitch when she wants to be.
I readjust the gloves, double-check the boots, and then walk carefully along the flat part of the roof until I'm within a couple of yards of the power lines. They look so innocuous. They're not even sparking; they're just sitting there, thick and black with a bit of metal showing at the ends. Hard to believe that there's enough energy in here to fry anyone who touches them.
I'm about to touch them.
I swallow hard and step closer, fighting the urge to tiptoe, as silly as that looks in these borrowed boots. Soon enough, I'm standing between the wires, the ends close enough to each other that I can't help wondering what would happen if they'd touched. Probably something bad.
"Ready up here!" I call to Officer Simon.
"Ten-four!" he shouts back.
I lower myself into a squatting position, hands over the lines.
Moment of truth. Time to see if I really can be Alexandra again.
In one quick motion, I snatch up a cable in each hand and hold them out, away from my body. At the same time, my eyes clench shut of their own accord.
But...
But...
But nothing happens. Except that I call down to Simon again. "Got 'em! Evacuate the building."
I hear the rescue teams go into the building, and I know that the rest of my job is an easy one: hang onto the cables until the building is empty, then set them down and let the electricians finish the job.
I didn't count on the news chopper.
I suppose, in retrospect, I shouldn't have been surprised. Local news in this town will dispatch a chopper for pretty much anything. I hear it before I see it, but the suckers move even faster now than they used to and soon enough it's hovering above us. I can't quite make out the camera being pointed in my direction, but I know it's there.
I know someone is on the phone to one of the studios, telling the anchors that, yes, there's an overweight woman wearing a blue mask holding power cables on the roof of the day-care, and yes, the mask is the same color as Alexandra's.
I want to curse under my breath, but I can't take the chance of them seeing my mouth move. Instead, I just stand there, trying to ignore the sense of impending doom thundering through my stomach, making my throat tight, making me want to find the nearest bathroom -- and not just to hide, either; I made the mistake of not peeing back at the gym, and the urge is getting a little insistent. Hopefully when this is all over I can sneak into the school for a minute.
After too long, I hear Officer Simon calling up to me over the whipping sound of the chopper's blades. Thankfully, he doesn't use my name. "Everyone's out!" he shouts. "You can come down now!"
"Thank goodness," I whisper. I carefully place one of the cables onto some shingles that look non-conducting, and then carry the other one as far away as I can get it. I know the chopper is watching me jump down -- fortunately I don't stumble when I hit the grass -- and there's nothing I can do about it but hold my head up high, keep my back straight, adjust my mask, and let Officer Simon bring me back to the lieutenant.
Time to face the music.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE INITIATIVE
+++++
I have a feeling I'll find the professor back at Dr. Colibri's little science lab. Before heading down there, though, I take a little detour and grab a smoothie -- I'm hungry, and I used a hell of a lot of my energy reserves zooming in and out of the incident scene. It also takes me a few minutes to figure out exactly where the underground place is.
To my surprise, no one says anything to me about being a hero. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything; once I'd taken off the mask and run all the way across downtown, I'd become just another big girl carrying a purse and a smoothie. Plenty of those in Atlanta.
When I arrive, I find both of them watching CNN. Whatever the regular show is supposed to be, it's been pre-empted for a special roundtable discussion.
About me.
I read the graphic on the screen -- "Alexandra's back; now what?" -- and smirk a little before clearing my throat. Dr. Colibri's head snaps around, and this time I'm careful to avoid her eyes.
The Professor, though, just slowly stands up and walks over to me. "I'm sorry."
Well, that's unexpected. "You're... sorry?"
"Yes. I am." He holds out a hand, as if I'm expected to forgive him and hug him and put it all in the past. "Things got out of hand. I should've come to you first."
"Instead of sending me here to have your pet doctor cut into my neck?"
"Actually," Colibri says, her voice sharp, "you've got that backward."
"What?"
"Technically," the Professor says, "I work for her, not the other way around."
Okay, that throws me. As far as I'd known in the three years I'd fought the Dark King and his minions the last time, Professor Wedlund had been the be-all-end-all when it came to being my mentor and guardian. "How did I not know this?"
"You don't think we just figure out who you people are at random, do you?"
"Um... well... I never really gave it any thought, to be honest."
"Of course not," the Professor says, "and you shouldn't have. It wasn't your job."
"Still, might've been nice to have a little backup."
"That isn't how it works," Colibri says. "The Agreement is that one person faces the Dark King. We're barely skirting the edge of the rules just giving you someone to help you learn what's going on when you start to change."
"Wonderful." I find a side chair and squeeze into it -- the armrests aren't made to accommodate anyone even close to my size. "But you, Professor, managed to get as much help as you needed, right?"
He has the decency to look guilty. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it was decided long ago--"
"By whom, exactly?"
"By whom what?"
I look up at him, keeping my eyes as hooded as I can to avoid Dr. Colibri's stare. I can tell she's trying to manipulate me -- and how the hell does she do that, anyway? -- and I need a clear head right now. "Who decided that I -- that all of us -- shouldn't know you have support?"
"That's not important," Colibri says, and the expression on the Professor's face gives me a little hope: he doesn't really like her either, and at this point he doesn't agree with her course of action. Maybe I can get him to talk to me later. "For now, I want to know the meaning of this." She picks up a remote control and hits a button, rewinding her DVR by about half an hour.
I cringe when I see myself, wearing my mask but still looking about the size of a blimp, standing next to a reporter from the local ABC station. Thank goodness it wasn't someone from the one where I work -- I might be only a cubicle drone, but there's always a chance the reporter or cameraperson could have recognized me somehow. "Alexandra," the reporter says, holding a microphone in front of me, "what happened?" The screen cuts to chopper video of me walking across the roof, picking up the wires, holding them apart. The reporter's talking throughout. "Why did you choose to make your return now?"
Just listening to his questions makes my lower back start to get damp again. I'd thought I could escape, but they'd cornered me and for some reason I'd thought it would be better to talk to them than to just get the hell out of there and let them try to figure it out.
Yeah. Bad move. I know. But I've never been really good around the media.
I watch myself adjust my mask, careful not to remove it from my face, and then push my hair over my left ear. "I just knew that someone needed my help, and even after all this time, it's something I can't ignore. But the real heroes are the firemen, the rescue workers, everyone who was first on the scene to help these people--"
"But you were here," he protests. My face starts to flush red as I watch; I feel my cheeks get warm and know that the Professor, who's watching me, can see it. "Where have you been all this time?"
I don't answer the question. "Look," I say, "I just heard there were people in trouble, and I came to help. That's all. I don't have
any statement prepared or anything."
"Alexandra, the last decade looks like it hasn't been too kind to you. Is that why you've been away?"
Even now, half an hour later, the question makes me cringe. I realize he's a reporter, but still -- could he have been any less polite about asking why I put on all the weight? "No," my recorded self finally answers. "And I have nothing more to add. Please excuse me."
His hand lands on my shoulder as I start walking out of frame, and I turn on him. He actually shrinks back a little -- I think my eyes glowed just then -- but to his credit he doesn't move the microphone. "Just tell me, Alexandra: are you back? Are you really back?"
My recorded self looks straight into the camera and smiles broadly, and I remember how confident I felt. "Oh, yeah," I say, and here in the lab I mouth the words along. "I'm back."
And then I can't stop the smile right now as I watch myself launch into the air and fly away.
Dr. Colibri stops the recording. "What the hell were you thinking? If you'd kept your reacquired powers quiet, maybe we could've done something, maybe somehow hidden you from the King. But now he's going to see this, and he's going to be coming for you."
"Let him come," I say. "I have all my powers back; I can take him."
"Andrea," the Professor says, "I wish you'd at least have talked to us before doing anything."
I stand up and stalk across the room, pacing; the waist of my skirt is little looser than it was when I started out this morning, and I turn away from them both so I can tighten my belt another notch. When I'm facing him again, his eyes are trying to give me a message of some sort. We used to be able to communicate wordlessly -- not telepathy or anything; that's not one of my powers. No, I was just able to read him, and he me. It was a useful talent at times.
I think -- I'm not sure, but I think -- that he wants me to be contrite. I look down at the floor, again avoiding the doctor's eyes. "I'm sorry," I say, trying not to sound too fake about it. "I was in the area, and I heard the sirens, and I got a breaking news text. I couldn't just let it go, not when there were kids inside!"
"I understand." The Professor casts a glance at Colibri. "And, for what it's worth, I truly am sorry about what almost happened to you this morning."
"I'm not." Colibri's hands are in the pockets of her lab coat and she's gone pale; I can tell she's furious and is trying her damnedest not to show it. She takes a couple of deep breaths, and when she speaks again her voice is somewhat calmer. "Since we don't know how much time is left before the Dark King notices that you're back -- really, truly back -- I need to figure out exactly how powerful you are. I need to know when you figured out you can fly, and how your other powers are working, and--"
"No."
I'd been planning to say it, but to my absolute shock it's the Professor who stands up for me.
"What... did you say?"
"I said no." He goes to her worktable, puts his hands on it, and stares down at her. To her credit, she refuses to be intimidated by his much-greater height. "It was one flash of powers. If Andrea is careful not to use the powers again, we might be able to get away with it. It's happened before--"
"Yes, in 1822," she says, which is yet another surprise: just how good are the records? Can I check them out? Learn about who saved the world before me? "And you remember what we had to do then, don't you?"
The Professor takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it out. "I won't let that happen. Not this time."
Colibri goes to her computer and clicks around for a few seconds. "According to this," she says, "our people have yet to find Alexandra's--"
"My name is Andrea," I interrupt.
She fixes me with a glare and I look away quickly. "If you're going to keep the powers, then I'm going to call you by the right name."
"Fine."
"Fine." My brow wrinkles; that was a childish way for her to end the argument. Still, mine is not to question. "The Dark King shows up once a decade, but not every ten years on the dot. And we still haven't found any sign of Alexandra's successor, which tells us that he or she is still at least four years away from being activated. Last time we were able to send the successor to do the job, but now there isn't anyone on the planet powerful enough to stop her."
"I don't care," Wedlund says. "We're not doing it."
"Not doing what?"
The Professor takes another one of those slow breaths. "The Device doesn't just remove the powers," he says. "With a little tinkering, it can be used to kill someone who has them."
"What?" It's a hoarse gasp; I actually stumble backward a little, catching myself against a bookshelf. "You mean you're going to kill me?"
"Of course not," he says. "I just wanted you to know--"
"So that I'd behave?" I straighten up and, in a fit of anger, yank the bookshelf hard enough that it crashes to the floor. I stomp on the heavy wood, feeling it splinter under my shoe, and it feels so good that I do it four more times before finally turning on both of them, chest heaving with a combination of fury and fright. "I act up and you kill me, is that it?"
"Andrea, I would never--"
"Bullshit!" I pick up a chunk of wood and fling it at him; he takes the hit on his shoulder and is spun around, bumping the desk hard. "And as for you," I snarl, turning on Colibri with a heavy textbook in my hand, "you can tell your people that I'm going to do what I want. There's nothing they can do to stop me, right?" I heave the book like a rectangular shot-put; it lands hard on her laptop, crushing it.
But that's given her time to pull out a tranquilizer gun similar to the ones the Goons had on Saturday. Fast as I can I rip the back piece off the bookshelf and hold it up like a shield; four darts make little whopping noises against the wood. Without thinking, my ears triangulate her exact location in the room; the makeshift shield doesn't even have time to hit the ground before the dart gun is in my hand and I'm holding Colibri in the air by the collar of her blouse.
"It's been five hundred years since someone kept the powers without evil being present," she says, trying not to move; she kicked at me, just once, and I shook her hard enough that her head snapped back and forth on her slender neck. That was all the warning she needed. "We don't have complete records from that time; we don't know what happened. We just want the world to be safe!"
"I saved the world," I say. The Professor is on his feet, but one glare from me keeps him from coming closer. I'm so angry now that I can look at Colibri's eyes and feel her little hypnotic trick without falling for it. My powers always got stronger when I got angry; I guess that hasn't changed. "I saved the world, and then I became... I became this!" I throw the gun across the room and use my free hand to indicate my body. Then I lift her higher and plunk her down on her worktable; her ass sends a metal tray clanging to the floor, but she's smart enough to stay where I put her.
"Listen to me carefully." My voice is soft and low, and I can feel my eyes glowing brighter than ever now. "My powers were a part of me; they were part of what made me the woman I was. Then you and him... you just took them away and ignored what was happening."
"Andrea, I didn't--" The Professor's voice.
"Shut up," I whisper. "I'm not done."
He shuts up.
I move close enough to the doctor that I can almost hear her heart pounding in her throat. "You're a scientist, aren't you?" She nods. "Well, here's a hypothesis for you: if the woman who saved the world was powerful enough to defeat the Dark King eleven years ago, and the Dark King's power grows proportionally over time just as hers does, then she should be able to defeat him again."
"Alexandra, you can't possibly know that. There are variables, and it was a close call last time, and--"
"And now I have the benefit of a lot more experience." A hard smile spreads across my face, and the doctor actually looks terrified of me.
Good.
"Plus, you're going to help me. You and the Professor. Or else I'll destroy you, and everyone you work for, and then I'll find where your records are kept, and I'll
destroy them, too."
"Andrea, you can't do that!" The Professor again.
"Watch me!" I shout. "Watch what I do if you lie to me again, Professor!"
"Andrea--"
"No!" I'm across the room in an instant; I rip the door off its hinges and break it in half. "You heard me before: I'm back." I throw the pieces of the door to the floor; they clatter amid the debris of the bookcase. "Alexandra is back, and this time, she's doing it her way."
Then I'm out of the lab, out of the underground, and in the bright lunchtime sunshine. I've been taking the bus long enough to know where I'll need to transfer to get home, but I only take a few steps in the direction of the nearest bus stop before I quit walking and just stand there.
I laugh.
Then I slip my mask over my face and vault into the air.
Why ride when I can fly?
There are pictures of the old Alexandra on the internet; it would be impossible to avoid them, especially now that CNN has made me their front-page story. Back in my apartment, I pull up their slide-show and find the one that shows my old costume pretty clearly. I never took posed shots, but even eleven years ago photographers knew how to get a good picture.
The costume is probably long-gone, but it's not bad, as costumes go. I'd insisted on leggings under the all-too-short skirt, and the long sleeves had been occasionally uncomfortable in the heat of the summer. Still, it beat getting recognized at school, and if I'd been Alexandra there, I'd never have dated anyone who didn't want a shot at kissing the superhero.
I smile; I know it's cliché, but Alexandra's personality was -- is, I suppose -- far more outgoing than mine. I didn't date a lot in high school, but there were a few guys, and there was the obligatory hotel room party after Homecoming in my junior year, and after that... well, let's just say that romance novels don't know anything about what the first time really feels like, but Peter was sweet and gentle and we were together for a few more months afterward before I broke too many dates.
Not my fault that I had a job fighting evil. It sure beat the hell out of stocking shelves at Kroger.
After The Apocalypse Page 12
