Supernormal

by Caitlen Rubino-Bradway

  “All right, all right.” Brody easily twisted out of Ashley’s grasp. That was another unsettling thing. For all of Ashley’s speed and strength, Brody was always better. It wasn’t because he was stronger than her, and it certainly wasn’t because he was faster. Brody was strong, and he was fast; Cam remembered what Ashley had said about Brody being in a Beta group, and Cam could see it now, next to Ashley. But it was more than that—it was the way Brody simply always seemed to know better. To always be exactly where he needed to be to dodge, to strike, to get control. Cam, well, he couldn’t exactly wonder at his aunt’s choice of friends, but he did wonder where Brody had learned his tricks. “Calm down. That’s enough for today. Good job.”

  Ashley grinned. “Giving up?” she tossed at Brody. She was breathing heavily, and Cam tried to keep his eyes on her face.

  “Yes, you have worn me down into submission by letting me kick your ass so many times.” He nodded for her to get up. “Next time we’ll work on control. It’ll give me a break. And, Cam? That was cheating.”

  Cam nodded. “Yes, it was.”

  Brody grinned. “How’s Dr. Mac?”

  “Dealing,” Cam said, then changed that to, “Trying to. It wasn’t really a session,” he said as Brody tossed a water bottle to Ashley. She snagged it out of the air and went to sit by Cam, tucking her legs up under her on the chair. “She just wanted to ask me about Ian. Nothing new,” he said at their look. “But at least she can file a missing persons report now.”

  “She already did. Soon as she got back,” Brody said, with an edge in his voice that made Cam feel as though he’d been making fun of the nerdy kid at school. “Cops are looking into it.”

  “Then I’m sure we have nothing to worry about,” Cam said. “Dr. MacNamara said she knew who had taken Ian.”

  Ashley studied her water bottle. Brody said, “I’m sure she has her suspicions.”

  “She didn’t say she was suspicious. She said she knew,” Cam replied. “And then she walled me off, too.”

  “There’s nothing else we can do. Not right now. So we wait,” Brody told him.

  Ashley stood. “We should go again.”

  Brody shook his head. “Not right now. I need to rest up. Heal. Even if you don’t.” He headed inside.

  Ashley slumped back in her chair with what looked like relief. She was pale enough for Cam to ask, “Are you all right?” She nodded. “You look tired,” he said.

  She smiled at that. “I do?”

  Cam nodded. “And you’ve still got blood on you,” he said.

  She twisted her arm to look and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.” He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, or the sense of satisfaction when Ashley automatically stretched her arm out into his hand. He took her water bottle and poured it out over her arm to clean it. “You need to be more careful,” he said, unable to keep the snap out of his voice. “These fights aren’t a game. Brody isn’t fooling around.”

  “Neither am I,” Ashley bit off. “I need to learn how to fight. Brody’s already holding back as it is. These people aren’t going to hold back at all.” She looked at her hands. “Whoever took Ian—they’re not going to stop. Someone is going to have to stop them.”

  “I know.” He didn’t like it, but— “Brody?”

  Ashley shook her head. “Brody could get hurt. Bad. And he can’t heal like me. I want to this, Cam. I can do it.”

  He said, “It’s Proom, isn’t it?”

  “I think so. I don’t know. Not for certain. You haven’t seen anything more?” she asked.

  “No.” God knew he’d been trying. Staying up until the small hours, pushing himself until the headaches came and he fell asleep on the couch, too exhausted to dream.

  She shifted, and for a second Cam thought she was going to twist her hands into his and hold on. She didn’t. Cam felt a sense of loss so keen he almost went numb with it. “That has to be bullshit. Seeing stuff that you can’t stop, can’t do anything about.”

  “It is,” he said.

  “Has to be hard, to deal with it.”

  “It is.”

  “How do you?”

  “Practice.” He heard the bitterness in his voice and cleared his throat. “I do what I can. I have a friend, a detective, in the Savannah PD. I give him a call if I see something out of state, national. It sounds more credible if it comes from the police. I’ve also racked up quite a number of anonymous tips. I know it doesn’t help. Won’t help. But I—”

  “Have to.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish you didn’t.”

  “I don’t,” Cam said.

  “I wish I didn’t,” she snapped back, her fingers clenching around the water bottle. “Do you know how many times they cut me open, how many needles they stuck in me, and that’s the part they leave alone? Jase—the guy I helped. Tried to. He was an asshole. The kids around us, they’re getting sick, they’re dying, and he’s making fun of them. He’s shoving their face in it. He was the star fucking pupil. I hated him, I still hate him and he’s dead. Then he gets sick, and he—” Ashley balled her fists on either side of her head. “He wanted my help. There was nobody else left, I know that, and I know that’s why he—I wish I didn’t. ‘Cause he’d be dead anyway. He started smiling, and I knew. I wish I could just not—care.”

  “You don’t really mean that.”

  “I wish I did,” she said desperately. “It would be so much easier if I did. It’s so hard.”

  “I know,” he said. “But we—”

  “Have to. I know.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Your parents wouldn’t hate you, you know. If you could stop. If you could be normal.”

  “Maybe. But I would hate it more if I was the type of person who saw these things and did nothing.” Cam smiled a little ruefully. “Besides, I’d like to think that my parents would find a reason to hate me no matter what I did. They’re not the type of people who need much of one. Naomi,” he added, and was surprised that it had gotten a little easier to talk about her. “She tries to be everything they tell her, and it’s still not enough.” He looked down at his hands. They were both sitting cross-legged, knee to knee, and his hands were very close to hers. Close, but not touching. “It won’t ever be enough.”

  “No,” Ashley agreed. “We’ll never be enough.”

  He stared at the scars running up her arms, along her legs, and thought about what she’d told him that day in Paco’s. How after a while, the tranquilizers didn’t work as well. He wondered if that applied to anesthesia as well, and then wished he hadn’t. He wondered how much pain a person could take before they stopped expecting anything else.

  “I didn’t mean that,” Ashley said quickly. “I didn’t mean ‘we.’ It’s not—you know it’s not you, right?” she said. The question was careful, and very quiet.

  “I know,” Cam said.

  “It’s them. There’s nothing wrong with—” But she stopped talking and stared down at the deck.

  He wished she hadn’t. He would’ve liked to hear her say it. “I know,” he said again, and felt the vibrations of the sound ache in his chest. He did know it, but knowing and feeling were two different things. And sometimes, late at night when he couldn’t sleep, it was hard to remember what he knew. “It’s all right. I’m all right…with it,” he said, and part of him was pleased to hear how calm and rational he sounded. “There comes a point when you accept that—you’re never going to be what they want. You accept that, and you move on.”

  “When does that happen?” Ashley asked quietly.

  Cam didn’t answer, because he didn’t have one. But, god, he hoped it was soon. He wasn’t sure he could live with it if the answer was never.

  “I’m sorry,” Ashley said.

  “I’m not.” Cam smiled, still staring at their hands. “I wouldn’t say it’s been fun, but I wouldn’t be here, if things were different. And I like it here. I wouldn’t get to live with Aunt Meg. I’d n
ever have learned how to use a rotary saw. We wouldn’t be—friends.” The last word was a little tricky. It tried to stick on the way out.

  But Ashley met his gaze and said, “Yeah,” or something like it. Not really a sound. More an acknowledgement. She understood. He’d known she would understand.

  The breeze picked up, and voices and laughter drifted in from the beach, but on Brody’s deck it was quiet and still. It was like that with Ashley. It could be. He tried not to think too deeply about why. He knew he wouldn’t like the answer. Knew that when it was just him and her—that, on some level, there was becoming a him and her—their futures got so tangled up together his mind was starting to blank them out.

  But he didn’t think about that. He focused on the quiet and, for one selfish second, wished he could seize the moment with both hands, see how long he could make it last.

  He stood. “Come on.”

  “Where?” Her voice was wary.

  “To the boardwalk. We’re getting pizza, with Danny and Tyler. They say they need a girl, so they asked me to bring you.”

  “They have Liz.”

  “Not tonight. The Sandies have the playoffs, or something, so she’s in Morro Bay.”

  “Tyler,” Ashley said.

  “He is the prettiest,” Cam agreed. “But I have been informed by a reliable source that just being pretty isn’t enough. Come with me,” he continued. “Please. We deserve one normal night.”

  Ashley hesitated. Then she stood. “All right. I’ll go.”

  Ch. 16

  They cut down the beach, keeping away from the boardwalk until they absolutely had to. It was crowded that night, enough that Cam had to stop for a second before they headed up the boardwalk steps to close his eyes and get back his focus. He caught Ashley watching him and tried to give her a smile before heading up.

  “We could go back to Brody’s,” she suggested. “Order pizza. Danny and Tyler could come, too.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Cam said, and then added, “You’ll be fine, too.”

  They met up with Danny and Tyler at Pie-plexing, a pizza joint near the middle of the boardwalk that boasted only four “traditional” pizzas on their eighty-four-item menu. The two were already sitting across from each other in a booth, arguing over the menu.

  “No way,” Tyler was saying. “You know I don’t like cilantro.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” Danny said. He was scanning the menu, intent. “Cilantro is a feature of Mexican cooking. It’s in your blood, man.”

  “My family’s from El Salvador.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s a completely different country, you racist fuck.”

  “Blacks can’t be racist. Or if we are it doesn’t count. ‘Cause of slavery. What about the Neapolitan Dynamite?”

  Tyler shook his head. “I don’t like black olives.”

  Danny threw up his hands. “Oh, so now who’s being racist?”

  “For chrissakes, I just don’t like the taste,” Tyler snapped.

  “Besides, everyone knows they’re only three-fifths of green olives,” Cam said, stepping up to the booth. “Gentlemen.”

  “Sir,” Danny answered back with mock formality, but he bounded up when he saw Ashley. “Ash! You’re here, you’re actually here!” Then, still jumping around, “Look who’s here, Tyler!”

  Tyler muttered shit under his breath. Cam felt Ashley tense beside him, but Tyler ignored her. “Spot me ten bucks, Danny?”

  “Hell no, I didn’t bet against him. And that’s both of us you owe ten to.”

  Ashley was looking at him. “You bet them I would come?”

  “Of course not,” Cam said. “Gambling is a sin.”

  “Besides, it’s not really a bet when you go in against a psychic. Here.” Danny scrambled around to take the seat beside Tyler. “Now you two can sit together. And we can hold hands under the table.”

  Tyler sighed. “Danny—”

  “We could hold hands above the table, but you’re the one who doesn’t want to go public. It’s cause of his parents,” Danny told them. “They’d never approve.”

  “Of…gays?” Ashley asked, sliding into the booth next to Cam.

  “Of lifeguards,” Tyler said.

  “You’re really going to let them prejudice you against me? Your little Almond Joy?” Danny scooted up closer to Tyler. “That’s what he calls me. Cause I’ve got—”

  “Pizza,” Tyler announced. “Who wants pizza?”

  “I’d tell you it gets better the longer you’re around them,” Cam told her, “but it doesn’t.”

  “He’s just jealous,” Danny said.

  “He’s right. I’m green with envy,” Cam said.

  Tyler snorted. “Why’s it always got to be about color with you?”

  Ashley looked at them all before settling on Cam. “I want pizza. I’m starving.”

  “How starving? ‘Cause he says,” Tyler said, nodding at Cam, “that you can eat the Hungry Hungry Hippo. By yourself.”

  She sent Cam an arch look. “Is there more money riding on this?”

  “I would never bet on a lady,” Cam said.

  “Twenty,” Danny and Tyler said.

  Ashley nodded again, and then she smiled, and Cam felt that tense part of him relax. “I get half.”

  “Deal.” He held out his hand and she shook it.

  Don’t let go, he thought without really thinking about it. The words just appeared in his mind, fully formed. He wasn’t sure where it came from. But she did, and Cam turned back to the menu. He was grateful when the waitress appeared to take their order.

  “So,” Danny began, “Dr. Mac’s back. I got a call from her to arrange a session, and then I got another call from her today saying she’s canceling sessions until further notice. My mom brought over a casserole. Said she looked awful.”

  “No shit,” Tyler said. “She lost her brother. Like, literally lost him.” He and Danny both look expectantly at Cam. Cam shook his head. Tyler let out a harsh breath. “I have to ask—”

  “Don’t ask,” Danny said.

  “I have to—”

  “‘Cause he’s an asshole.”

  “—what’s the point of being psychic if you can’t psychically see where Ian is right now?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Cam said.

  “How does it work?”

  “I get visions. Of the future,” he replied, hearing the bitterness in his voice and knowing it wasn’t all because of Tyler. He tried to swallow it back, but instead kept talking. “Not the past, not the present, I don’t read minds and I can’t sense feelings. I just get the future. And I don’t get everything. Just—pieces, mostly. I can put them together, I can usually put them together, but sometimes I don’t have time—” He folded his hands in front of him, trying to appear calm, trying to ignore the way he was wrenching his fingers. “It gets stronger, the closer it gets to something, but it’s not certain. Things change, things can always change.” He stopped and took a deep breath.

  “I thought you were psychic,” Tyler said.

  “I am. I’m just not perfect. I make mistakes. I miss things.” Cam forced his fingers apart and did his best to relax. “We get what we get.” And we don’t get upset.

  “That has to suck,” Danny jumped in, elbowing Tyler when he opened his mouth again. (“Ow–dude!”) “I don’t know how you handle it. I’d go nuts, seeing all that stuff. War, Disease, Pestilence…and that other guy. And their horses. Okay, well, maybe not their horses. Horses are cool.”

  “You have, like, the boniest elbows in the world,” Tyler muttered, rubbing his arm.

  “By all means, cry like a girl about it for the rest of the night.”

  “It’s not all bad,” Cam told them. “What I see, not all of it is War and Death.”

  “Death!” Danny exclaimed, pointing at him. “That’s the guy. I can’t believe I forgot that one.”

  But Ashley was listening. “Like what?” she asked him.

  “Like
…” He glanced at Danny and Tyler, who were now arguing about whether or not Death was the most well-known horseman of the apocalypse. “Them.”

  “Us?” Danny asked.

  “Yes.” LIZ. “And Liz. I see you now, and I see you how you will be.” Cam suddenly felt awkward, but they were watching him now, so he continued. “Older, grayer—fatter. Still bickering. Still friends. It’s nice.” He made himself stop talking, cleared his throat. The nice things helped. The bad things were always stronger, but the nice things made it worth it.

  Danny and Tyler looked at each other. “Wait. I’m going to be stuck with him forever?” Tyler asked.

  “Will you shut up?” Danny said. “We almost had a really nice moment there. You asshole.”

  “If I’m an asshole, why are we going to be friends for the next fifty years?”

  “Probably because Liz and I feel sorry for you. You heard Cam, you’re going to get really fat. Liz, too, right?” Danny asked Cam.

  LIZ. RUNNING—Cam frowned. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t the same. He felt it, tugging at the back of his brain. He took a sip of water, trying not to think about it. Tried to let the futures just swim through his mind, like minnows in a net. TYLER’S SHARP SMILE, THEN LAUGHING AS ASHLEY DID. ICE CREAM CONES, DANNY’S PILED HIGH WITH RAINBOW JIMMIES. CELL PHONE BUZZING IN A BACK POCKET. DANNY’S PANICKED FACE AS HE HELD THE PHONE TO HIS EAR, ICE CREAM SMEARED ON HIS FINGERS—

  Wait. What? Cam backpedaled.

  DANNY, FEAR, SHOUTING INTO HIS PHONE, “PICK UP!” FEET RUNNING, SNEAKERS POUNDING ON THE PAVEMENT. TIRES SQUEALING AS THE VAN TURNED, ROCKING TO A STOP. POLICE STATION.

  Focus, focus, focus. Phone call, think about the phone call. Danny was saying something, his voice strained. “PICK UP, LIZZIE, PICK UP!”

  Liz. Cam switched tracks, shifting through the threads for Liz’s future and reeled it in. It was easier because he wasn’t there, couldn’t get involved. LIZ—there she was—CROUCHED DOWN BY THE VAN. FLAT TIRE. “SPARE?”

  COACH PARKER LAUGHING, SHAKING HIS HEAD. CELL PHONE. “…CALL AAA.”