I didn’t think about it for more than a second as I grabbed the garment bag and pulled on, for the second time today, the white and blue motorcycle suit. I threw a long coat on over that, despite the sweltering heat it would cause, and tucked the mask into a pocket. As prepared as I figured I could be, I gently slid the cabin door open and went out into the hall.
There wasn’t any trace of the Pushed who had passed by, but I knew the direction they had been walking. From there, it was just a matter of following common sense and the crawl in my skin. At least it was likely that whoever they were, they probably weren’t here to start trouble or else they would have done it already. Still, I was going to be as cautious as possible.
I made my way through another cabin car before my senses start to twitch. I pressed on and entered the dining car ahead. What I heard as soon as I came through the car door was talking. What I felt was my skin trying to crawl off my body and my gut twisting into a pretzel. I staggered forward a step and felt myself lean against a door frame, which I grabbed on to for dear life as I tried to get my body back under control. After an indeterminable amount of time, I felt like it was safe to open my eyes and move under my own power again.
What I stumbled onto was a party. Not a loud one, more ‘social gathering’ and less ‘raging bender’, but I couldn’t think of a better way to describe the five Pushed people, snacking, drinking, and chatting, left alone in this section of the dining car. I had never been so close to so many of them at once; it was a miracle I hadn’t thrown up from my reaction to them. I recognized the fireman I had seen a few days ago, the most normal looking of the bunch. The rest I hadn’t seen yet, at least not in person, and no one had apparently noticed me yet, engrossed in their conversation. I quickly slipped the mask out of my pocket and pulled it on.
“Hey!” I called out, stepping into the room. “No one sent me an invitation, but I’m glad to see there’s a party for us.” The entire room now had eyes on me. “Hi, nice to meet you, they call me Indomitable.”
Chapter 12 Sympathy
“You’re who?” the teenage boy with a cyborg tank for a lower half asked me. Before his Push, he must have been paralyzed from the waist-down; I could see the wheelchair underneath the phantom shimmer. The hardest part of looking at so many Pushed in so close a space was that my eyes couldn’t escape starting at double images, sometimes multiples, everywhere. I smiled, trying not to let the growing twitch in my eyes show.
“I’m one of you, you know, Pushed?” I put out a hand, hoping someone would take it. “I only, well, came out today.” I couldn’t explain the suspicion that was plain as day in their eyes but I had to try to push past it.
“Oh! Right!” The fireman, now dressed a bit more casually despite his seeming attachment to his fireman’s jacket, stood up and grasped my hand. “I read about you in the paper when we were boarding!”
I managed to keep my will steady and not pull away from the handshake. The sensation was bizarre: I could feel the impulses of cold that his Pushed condition was trying to feed to me, but at the same time, I felt the reality of his warm human flesh. “She took out a Pushcrook that was shooting up Brook Heights.”
“Yep, that was me.” My smile was more honest this time. I was genuinely proud of what I had done, after all. “I was planning on going to Washington for the big rally tomorrow and figured, you know, train. Nobody checks trains, right?”
“Well, ain’t that fortunate, y’all?” proclaimed the six-armed man. Another thing I was noticing about the Pushed: their new forms were, so far, universally in excellent shape. This man, for instance, I could see his inner form and he had been overweight and balding. Now he had a power-lifter’s physique and a full glorious head of hair. “Did Epic arrange fer yer tickets like he did for us?”
“Wow, you guys know Epic?” I squashed my sarcasm instinct hard. “No, I just figured this would be the best way to get there. It’s total luck I made it on the same train as you guys.”
I offered a hand to one of Mr. Six-arm's real limbs, which was warmly accepted. An Indian woman, dressed in a strange amalgam of sari and business dress, finally glanced in my direction. I could tell by the way her eyes didn’t track that she suffered from some kind of visual impairment. It was the first time I had seen a Pushed who retained a handicap their normal self had.
“How unusual,” she began. “I cannot see who you are talking to in my mind’s eye, nor did I foresee her arrival. I cannot feel the pulse in her either.” Her gaze fixated where I had last spoken. “Who are you really?”
Of course, I realized. I seemed proof against many physical aspects of the Pushed. It made perfect sense if there were powers of the mind, which there seemed to be, then I was equally protected.
“Uh, well, that seems to be one of my powers,” I tried to explain without blowing my cover. “You know, mental shield or something, I guess.” I wished now I had read a lot more of Eric’s comic books. “This is all really new to me. I only know I got powers from the Whiteout, so that makes me one of you guys, right?”
“That works for me, Indy,” the firefighter said. He glanced around his fellows. “Look, folks, we barely know how any of this even works. Sure, it’s odd to run into a Pushed we can’t feel, but come on, everything seems possible these days.” He thumbed at me.
“I saw the YouTube video. This has got to be the real deal.” Great, I was internet famous now, as well as getting a nickname for my alter ego. I was advancing rapidly in the super world, it seemed.
The Indian woman still seemed suspicious, but said nothing more. I figured it was more from the fact that she felt deprived of a sense she had just reacquired, at least in this one special case. The others seemed appeased though, and it was handshakes and introductions all around. The more I was ‘exposed’, the easier it was to cope with the unnatural sights and feelings, though it never entirely passed. What I found a little more unusual was that not a single one of them used their actual names; they all presented names straight out of a comic book. I had no room to judge, exactly, but at least I was wearing a mask.
Frosty the Fireman actually called himself Extinguisher. The teenager with the tank treads went by the Human Tank, while Mr. Six Arms called himself Hexagon. The Indian mentalist introduced herself as Mind’s Eye and, finally, having stayed in the background until introductions were made, the Latino woman with reptilian features and a mane of living snakes was known as Medusa. Despite the initial suspicion, once the ice was broken, it was, to be totally honest, a rather enjoyable affair.
“Ssso,” Medusa asked, “what elsse do you do?” Her voice was the hardest to parse: the sibilance clashed hard with her normal voice. “We’ve all been trading notessss, in cassse sssomething happensss at the rally.”
I had ditched the coat and taken a seat, sipping at some more coffee. Stupid me hadn't expected this to come up, despite my comic book crash course. I would have to come up with something they would buy.
“I really don’t know entirely,” I evaded. “I seem to be strong, fast, and tough, and mental stuff seems to not work on me. I guess if anything my power is willpower ...?” Yeah, that’ll work, I told myself in a comforting tone.
“About the rally, though, I thought this was going to be a peaceful thing? You know, ‘hey, we’re here and we want to help, don’t screw over our civil rights’, that kind of thing?” Mind’s Eye answered before anyone else could even open their mouths.
“I have foreseen that there will be violence, but ...” The blind woman frowned. “I cannot see it all. There are ... blanks. Holes in my sight. It disturbs me, for I have foreseen almost every event that has happened for me personally for the past 2 days.” She shook her head. The Human Tank patted her shoulder gently and glanced around at the others.
“Everyone here has already been doing good stuff with their powers, so I am pretty sure none of us are gonna cause trouble, but I bet a lot of bad guys also heard about the rally so maybe they’ll show up and that’s who’ll start the figh
ting and then we can team up with the police and show everybody that we are really really good guys,” he explained in one continuous stream of talking. He didn’t even take a breath. Mind’s Eye smiled at the teenager. I was a bit bewildered at the massive utterance, but nodded anyway.
“I hate to be the party pooper, but we might have problems with the government or the military,” Extinguisher noted, running his hands through his close-cropped hair. “Sure, we mean well, but there’s a lot of folks who have powers that don’t. It’s not like we’re color coded or anything either. I hate to say it, but there’s tons of scared folks out there.”
“I hear that some of the big right-wing racist groups are start to crop up with anti-Push slogans and all that horse-hockey," Hexagon, who had been seeming to amuse himself with six-armed juggling, finally weighed in while keeping the six bottles of beer aloft. "First you had the KKK and white supremacists, now you have human supremacists.” He shook his head sadly. “Crazy talk. I mean, we’re all just as human as the next guy, right? Pulse or not.”
That was the third time someone had brought up this 'pulse' thing. I would have to think of a way to ask one of them about it without giving myself away.
“I’ve got an odd question.” Something else had only then struck me and now was as good a time as any to ask. “Any of the Pushed folks you’ve met, have any of them not been a Pushcrook or, you know, one of us? A hero-type? You know, any Pushed that, well, are doing normal jobs or trying to ignore what happened to them?”
I know I hadn’t, but these folks seemed to have met more of their own kind than I had. There was some chatter back and forth, moments of thought and remembrance, and then, finally a consensus.
“As freaky as it sounds, nope, nadda, zero, zilch,” Tank answered finally. “But, well, you know it’s pretty freaky and how can you just ignore freakin’ super powers and all, I mean, who didn’t want to be a superhero when they grew up, or, I guess, supervillain if you’re a bad guy? You know what I mean!"
I nodded slowly, trying to look like I completely understood what he meant. At least I had processed the gist of it.
“You’re probably right,” I said. “Who wouldn’t want to be a superhero?” I put forth a smile at that. It seemed to be the right way to go with these people. The discussion of good guys and bad guys sparked off a story swap of everyone’s first Pushcrime thwarted.
Again, I was struck by how quickly and easily each of them jumped into it. As I had seen in Alma’s case, the psychological compulsions from the Whiteout were vast and insidious. It was going to be hard to try to get any of them to acknowledge even a hint of the truth.
“I was curious too ... you all said Epic got you on this train? So you guys have met him?” I said as the stories wound down.
“Well, yeah,” Extinguisher started. “I mean, not for long, but it was a big deal. He just poofed before me in a flash of light right after I helped ice down a fire in a tenement, said he would personally want me to be there on Wednesday, and told me he had arranged some transportation.” He shrugged, grinning. “Heck, lady, when the world’s first and greatest Push hero tells you he wants you by his side, you hop to it!”
“I can’t argue with that,” I lied. I was getting better at lying than I ever wanted to be. Worse off, I didn’t want to lie to these people. Deep down, no matter how unnatural the changes forced on them were, they were people, the same as me.
Also like me, they had put their lives on the line for others. Sure, they had a lot more perks and the backing of this new reality, but you still couldn’t discount their motivations. However I tried to look at, I was getting to like them.
“I can only hope that I get to meet him when we get to Washington.”
“Well, that ssshould be pretty easssy, chica." Medusa looked up from where she had been letting her snake hair lap up water from a glass, a sight I found most unsettling. "He sssaid he wasss going to meet uss at the train ssstation when we came in.”
I forced another smile as I tried to tamp down a growing sense of distress. I had no doubt that Eric would know who I was on sight. We knew each other too well that a costume and a mask wouldn’t fool him, even without his undoubtedly super senses. I glanced at the time. 3:30 a.m., we would be getting to Washington in only three hours.
“Why don’t you jusst ssstay with uss until we get there?” the snake-woman offered.
I was dumbstruck. I wanted to at least explain that Epic and I had some kind of history. If I came clean, they might see the wisdom of not introducing me to their oh-so-wonderful idol of idols. On the other hand, that could foul the entire operation up from the start. In my earpiece, an annoyed-sounding Agent Brooks spoke up.
“Goddammit, Roman, do not sneak the hell off without letting us know. And for Christs sake, make up some crazy story or what, but don’t lose these contacts. This maybe your one and only shot to get anyone on your side before your boyfriend picks you out of the crowd and does whatever the hell he might do.” Real words of encouragement from a law-enforcement expert, I reminded myself.
“Look,” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There’s something I haven’t been totally straight with ...” I could already feel muscles tense, hear servos wind, and snakes hiss. “Hold on! Hold on! I’m not going to fight you guys if you decide to attack me, so think about that a second.” Without seeing if my plea made any headway, I charged on. “I *have* met Epic before. Twice, actually. More, if you count before the Whiteout.”
The tension level had lowered some; I had struck their curiosity. Extinguisher made a motion to bring it down a notch. I favored him with a smile and continued on, quickly.
“The point being, we have history. We also have a ... difference of opinion about how the Pushed should do things.” No one had blasted, hit, bitten, or tried to kill me with mind-bullets yet. “So, sure, I’ve loved hanging out with you guys so far, and I’ll keep doing that, but it may not be the best idea for me to be here when Epic arrives. If you really want me to, I will, but just don’t be surprised if things get, uh, dramatic.”
There was a moment of quiet. I was beginning to suspect that maybe Mind’s Eye was letting them all communicate mentally. It would explain how they avoided talking over each other when they were answering my questions. Finally, the Human Tank answered.
“Well, it’s like this,” he began. I braced for a long-winded impact. “We need to show solidarity at this rally so if you and him have problems it’d be best to get them all out in the open and cleared before the rally and with people that can break it up if someone throws a punch or a car or anything so like we can totally be your mediation buddies and also when you say history do you mean you guys were friends or that you guys were a couple or that you guys are related or something like that?”
I shook my head slightly. I wasn’t prepared for that many words so quickly.
“What he means, Indomitable, is that we would like you to stay with us. If you and Epic have difficulties, perhaps we can aid in seeing them sorted before the rally, so as not to cause further problems on top of the danger I have foreseen.” Mind’s Eye paused, then finished her translation. “Finally, young Tank is most curious as to exact nature of your past history with Epic.”
I nodded in response to the first part, then shook my head at the question. I shouldn’t have been surprised by that one.
“Sure, we can give it a shot, but, well, our relationship ... it’s an old personal matter. I’d like to keep it to myself, if that’s okay?”
“Okay, Irene, well done,” Agent Choi encouraged. “A little honesty can go a long way. As soon as the train stops, Duane and I will vacate the cabin here so you can pick up the rest of your baggage without giving us away.”
“Stay with those Pushed, Doc,” Brooks added. “They’re our only source of solid information from that side of the rally. We are going to hit our Washington contacts and see if we can figure out this danger the Indian is predicting.”
“Hopefully it will work out
better than the last psychic we had in our office. Anyway, good luck, Irene. We will be in touch as soon as possible with news.” With that, no more ear chatter.
I decided I couldn’t afford to even use the whisper mic, just in case someone had more super senses than I knew they had. I nodded to the little group, who had made some assent as to letting me keep that one little secret. With that, I made some excuses and gave myself the gift of a short nap.
My nap was sadly far too short. I was woken by the sounds of railroad brakes, blaring alarms, and doors being forced open. I snapped bolt upright, as round metal canisters were lobbed through open doors. No one else seemed to be awake yet, even the psychic. Another problem she didn’t predict or was there something else going on?
I was already holding my breath when the canisters hit the ground and started to spew gas and made it to the door right as a man in rag-tag fatigues and a gas mask walked in. I didn’t bother to wait for any identification or to see if he was going to pull the trigger on the automatic rifle he was carrying, I just barreled right into him. As my momentum carried us the entire length of the car into the opposite wall, I had realized that I had instinctively dropped into that sublime state of focus I had before. I could hear the slow-motion crack of broken ribs as I drove his rifle sideways into his chest. He slumped against the compartment wall as I sprang back to my feet, ears keen to the sounds of more combat boots on the floor behind me.
My mind and senses were in overdrive. Even through the slowly seeping gas, I could lay eyes on three more of these paramilitary goons, each dressed in their own variation of camouflage and military surplus clothing. What didn’t look like it came from an Army-Navy store were their weapons. Clean, shiny, and deadly is what they looked like. I had no idea how long I could hold my breath under exertion, but my ... well, yes, by now, they were my friends ... friends, super powered or not, seemed to be slow risers. I had to buy them time to defend themselves.
The Push Chronicles (Book 1): Indomitable Page 10
