“Is it because you’re straight? I know you probably are. Most guys are.”
“No, it’s not that,” said John.
“Is it me? Something wrong with me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what? What is it? Why can’t you love me?” Tommy’s voice rose in an accusation. Dust pelted the side of the car like a sandblaster.
“Tommy, listen to yourself. Do you even know what you’re asking?”
“For you to love me!”
“Which means what?”
Tommy sighed. The swirling wind in the garage died down as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “It means you love someone, John. Love, you know?”
“Tommy, I don’t know.”
Tommy’s head spun. It was like trying to describe the color red, or the sound of a flute. “When you care about someone, more than anything in the world. When their well-being and happiness is more important than yours is. When you’d die so they might live.”
“Tommy, you are a good friend, and I care about you, but what you’re describing are feelings I’m not capable of experiencing.”
“Bullshit.” The wind whistled with vehemence in agreement. “Everybody is capable of that.”
John sighed. “I’m not like everybody else. I don’t have any strong feelings.” He smiled wryly. “I’m very much like a rock in that regard. I don’t suffer hate, or incapacitating grief. Joy is beyond me. And so is love.”
Dust pattered against the windows. “That’s terrible,” said Tommy at last. “I feel sorry for you.”
“You don’t need to, any more than you need to feel sorry for someone who can’t fly. Just because someone can’t experience something doesn’t mean their lives are less fulfilling.”
“Still,” said Tommy. “I wish I could… I don’t know, teach you or something. Being around you, being with you, it makes my heart cry out for you.”
For a long moment, the only sound in the car was the wind whistling around the antenna. John snorted and then put his hand over his mouth. His shoulders quaked, making the car rock on its springs. John’s barely-restrained mirth set off Tommy into helpless giggles.
Soon both men were guffawing with the kind of laughter that only two close friends could share. “My heart cries for you,” said John in the most simpering voice he could manage with his stentorian baritone.
Tommy shrieked with fresh peals of laughter. “I could teach you, you know.” They crumpled into each other, cold stone and hot flesh leaning together for support. The laughter slowed until Tommy wiped his eyes. “Christ,” he said. “I needed that.”
“It felt good,” said John.
“Hey, I thought you didn’t feel strong emotions,” said Tommy.
“Humor is humor.” John smiled at him. “And it was very funny.”
“Yeah, I guess it was,” admitted Tommy. “Thanks for not freaking out at me.”
“You’re too good a friend for that. I just hope you understand.”
“I’ll try. It won’t be easy.”
“Nothing ever is. That’s why they call it life.”
“I thought that was a magazine.”
“Funny.” John started up his car. “Shall we go?”
“Yeah, I need to get into my own clothes. I feel slimy in Javier’s.” Tommy noticed the manila folder on the seat between them. “Is this the file from the meeting?”
“Yes.”
The Scout groaned as it climbed out of the underground garage. Like everything else he did, John drove with slow, deliberate care, keeping plenty of safe distance between him and the car in front. Tommy put his feet up and out the window to read the folder. “Comfortable?” asked John with a smile.
Tommy laughed. “I could use a cold drink if you’ve got one. Preferably with a lot of strong alcohol in it.”
“Well, there’s always the watered-down beer at the field.”
“Jesus,” muttered Tommy as he read. “Nineteen years old and killed a guy. What a way to start out. She should be going to parties and making out with boys.”
“What were you doing at nineteen?”
Tommy grinned with fond memories. “Going to parties and making out with boys.” He looked at the faxed picture of her. “She’s pretty. At least, I think she is. This is a lousy picture.”
“I thought you were gay.” John chuckled.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate beauty. I mean, I wouldn’t sleep with her.” He glanced sidelong at John. “You, on the other hand…”
John shook his head.
“I’m kidding. Well, I’m not, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes, but don’t get your hopes up.”
“Why? Are you going to say you can’t have sex either?”
“Well… I can’t.”
And that set them off into more laughter.
#
In all her life, Gretchen couldn’t remember enjoying a shower more than when she was at Shane’s.
He’d dashed into the apartment ahead of her, she presumed so he could hide dirty underwear, dirty socks, dirty magazines, or whatever bachelors kept lying around their homes when nobody was around. The apartment was a modest two-bedroom with a small but well-apportioned kitchen. A large couch, television, and a wall of vinyl records from bands such as The Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and Steppenwolf dominated the living area. Even with the windows open, no breeze found its way inside to clear the stuffy air, which carried the scent of something spicy cooked in hot oil. Gretchen couldn’t tell whether it was the remains of something Shane’s roommate might have cooked or if the smell was wafting up from a lower apartment.
Shane had pushed a stack of clean towels at her after checking his bathroom for any embarrassing items or messes. Gretchen had found a bottle of Elizabeth’s shampoo in her bag and with a smile at Shane, shut and locked the door.
And now, finally, she felt clean.
She luxuriated in the hot spray, in spite of the day’s heat. Her muscles relaxed and she found herself feeling optimistic about her future. She experimented with her power, creating marble-sized pockets of vacuum in the spray. They made popping noises like champagne corks, and each time she made one, the water within it flash-froze into icy flakes that melted in the spray.
With regret, she shut off the faucet and wrapped a towel around her hair the way her mother had taught her. She’d have loved some lotion, but that wasn’t the sort of thing to find in a bachelor’s apartment. She took a moment to look herself over in the mirror. Her bruises had already faded to a dull yellow and her eyes weren’t so shadowed anymore. Satisfied with herself, she turned to get some clean clothes from her bag.
Then she realized her bag still sat on the floor in Shane’s living room. Had she left it open? She couldn’t remember. She hoped she didn’t have underwear and bras hanging out of it for Shane to see. She could wear the clothes she’d changed into at Con Ed, but they weren’t really nice enough to wear to a restaurant. Besides, she hadn’t been really clean when she’d changed before and didn’t want to stink herself up again so soon.
Gretchen wrapped the biggest towel she could find around her chest and checked in the mirror. It hung down low enough to cover everything, as long as she was careful about bending over. Shane had been a gentleman so far, and she felt safer around him than she had since leaving Dyersville. She closed her hand around the doorknob, hesitating. All of them do it sooner or later. Even the ones you think are nice.
“No, not Shane,” she muttered aloud. She unlocked the door and tiptoed out into the short hallway.
Shane was asleep on the couch, his arm over his eyes and his sock feet up on the side. Gretchen saw her bag sitting at the end of the couch and tiptoed over to retrieve it, keeping one hand clutched on her towel.
Then her toe mashed into the corner of the coffee table. She let out an inadvertent squeak and Shane’s eyes flew open just as she overbalanced and fell, the towel fluttering to the floor ahead of her.
His eyes widened
as she sprawled spread-eagled in front of him. Then his cheeks burned crimson and he covered his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m not staring.”
Gretchen scrambled to retrieve her towel and at least cover the most strategic areas. “It’s okay, I just stubbed my toe.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. It’s okay, I’m covered up now. I didn’t mean to, uh, startle you.” She forced a laugh. “I know I’m not much to look at.”
“I think you’re real pretty,” said Shane.
Gretchen’s own face burned, but in spite of the embarrassing predicament, she felt unexpected heat elsewhere. She looked down at Shane huddled on the couch, still hiding his eyes out of miserable deference to her, and she realized she very much wanted him to kiss her.
Instead of ducking back into the bathroom with her bag, she sat down beside him. “Shane…” She pulled his arm down. “It’s okay.”
And then they were kissing, devouring each others’ lips with hungry urgency. He tasted like cigarettes but she didn’t care. The feeling in her grew and she knew deep down that Elizabeth was wrong; not all boys were like the ones back home. Shane was different, and this was how she was supposed to feel. Her heart hammered with mad desire. She followed each passionate kiss with a light peck, like the punctuation of a sentence. She could feel herself wanting to open as if she were a flower bud first touched by the morning sun.
With one decisive motion, she pulled aside her towel. Shane’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. She took hold of his wrists and guided his hands to her breasts, his touch setting off fireworks under her skin. “I want you to make love to me,” she said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She pulled him close. “Yes. Please.” To help convince him, she pulled his t-shirt off and planted a kiss against the hollow of his throat.
He leaned her back against the arm of the couch and nuzzled against her neck. She shivered with the sensation as he brushed his lips down her breasts and belly. “What are you doing?” she gasped in delight.
Her head was humming so much, she missed his muffled reply. But then she felt the touch of lips and tongue where she’d never dreamed such a thing, and she threw her head back and gave herself over to the pleasure.
Chapter Eleven
July 13, 1977, 7:00 PM
Faith finished recounting her information to Sundancer and the Steel Soldier. Sundancer shook her head at the rape story. “That’s a horrible thing to happen to anyone,” she said, “but especially to a young girl like that. No wonder she freaked out.”
“But it implies she isn’t fully in control of her powers,” said Faith. “And I can’t think of any way to counteract someone who can destroy air.”
“I located the missing vehicle based upon your information,” reported the Steel Soldier. “That seems to corroborate your witness’ story.”
“The bottom line is that we’ve got a very scared young girl back home, and she’s got a dangerous ability. We’ve got to find her before the Feds do, and we have a starting point,” said Faith. “Steel, can you radio Headquarters?”
“Negative. There are large storms amassing between here and New York, and they are interfering with radio signals. Do you wish me to locate a land line?”
“No,” said Faith. “I think we’re done with this hick town.”
“Me too,” said Sundancer. “Besides, I’ve still got that game tonight. I hate for the boys to go without me along to tell them what’s going on down on the field.”
Faith and Sundancer climbed back into the Soldier’s stretcher pods. “I have sufficient power for a ballistic trajectory course,” said the Soldier. “This will safely carry us above the dangerous weather patterns. For your safety in this transit, I am flooding your tubes with a mild anesthetic gas.”
“Wait—” began Faith, but then her vision blurred and she felt like she was falling into a deep, dark tunnel.
She awoke with a jarring bump. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was, except that she was trapped in a tight, enclosed space. Then, with a hiss, the tube split apart and she remembered she had been in the Steel Soldier’s stretcher pod. “That was a dirty trick, Steel,” she said. The anesthetic had given her a pounding headache. They had landed on the platform for Just Cause Headquarters in the World Trade Center.
“My apologies,” said the Soldier. “I anticipated you would find suborbital flight disturbing. It was my error. I have saved this information for future reference. I believed speed was of the essence.”
“It was,” said Faith, “but you can’t go around knocking people out without their permission. Save it for the bad guys, not your teammates.”
“Understood. I require significant recharging and refueling. I shall take my leave of you to return to my maintenance facilities.” The Soldier clomped over to the edge of the deck and rocketed away.
“You want me to stay?” asked Sundancer.
“No, go on and enjoy your game. I’ll call you guys if I need you. Hopefully I can track down this Shane Clemens fellow and find our fugitive before she gets herself into worse trouble.” Faith knew how much Sundancer adored her Mets team and that the poor girl would pine away all night if she missed the game.
Sundancer squeezed her arm. “Thanks, Faith. I owe you.” She trotted off toward the locker rooms to change into her civilian clothing.
Faith went to the team’s coordination center to talk to Bobby; however, when she got there, her husband was gone and a frustrated Lionheart was pecking out something on a typewriter with the tips of his index finger claws and growling under his breath. “Hi, Rick. Where is everyone?”
He leaned back from the typewriter and pinched the bridge of his broad, feline nose. “Our friends the Feds were distinctly uncomfortable with my nonhuman appearance, and it was suggested that perhaps Bobby and Irlene should accompany them in their investigation so as not to frighten the public.”
“What?” Faith was aghast. Lionheart was as highly regarded as anyone on the team, and even more so as the field leader.
“Bobby defused things by saying he’d go and asked me to stay. So here I am, trying to type a goddamned report with fingers too big to hit the keys.”
“Oh, man, that’s the worst,” said Faith. “Want me to type it for you?”
“My hero,” he said, and her heart jumped a little. To distract herself from the fibrillation, she recapped what they’d learned about the fugitive Gretchen Gumm. Lionheart shook his head in disgust. “What is this world coming to?”
“I could go track down this Con Ed guy.” Faith didn’t feel very enthusiastic about it; her head still throbbed from the Soldier’s anesthetic.
“No, Bobby and Irlene are already out in the field, and the Feds can probably find him faster.”
They radioed out the information to Bobby and exhorted him to call on backup if it they needed him. “Don’t worry,” said Bobby. “I’m not about to get into a parapowered fight with anyone. I leave that to you heavy hitters. Faith, babe?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Be careful.”
“God, I’ve got a headache,” grumbled Lionheart. “I don’t know how Bobby does this stuff.”
“I’ve got one too,” said Faith. “I don’t recommend traveling by Steel Soldier Airlines. I think I’ve got some aspirin in my locker. Want me to get it?”
Lionheart stood up and stretched, arching his back like a cat. “I need to get away from all this paperwork. I’ll come with you.”
He loped after Faith down the hall. She could feel the heat washing off his furry form and smell his musk in the air. It took all her willpower not to whirl around and throw herself at him. She loved her husband without question, but this was pure animal lust, and it begged and pleaded for satisfaction. She ducked into the locker room and splashed some cold water on her face. She wished she could take a cold shower instead. For that matter, she wished she could pull Lionheart into it with her. She needed
to get out and away from him before the temptation grew too great to bear.
Aspirin tablets in hand, Faith returned to the hall and found Lionheart there, leaning against the wall. She stepped up to him, took one of his hands, and dropped two tablets into it. His gentle claws scratched against her palm and made her shiver. She looked up at him to say she hadn’t gotten any water, but her gaze locked with his cat eyes, and she was trapped by it.
A low rumble sounded deep in his chest that she’d never heard before and she realized he was purring. The sound reverberated through her body to center somewhere beneath her navel. Almost without thinking, Faith reached up an arm, took the muscular Lionheart by the back of his neck, and pulled his face down to hers.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispered.
“I know,” she replied.
A sound of footsteps made Lionheart jump back. A moment later a pale-but-cheerful Javier strolled around the corner. “Why don’t you two get a room already?” He opened the door to the men’s lockers.
“Hey, Javier, I wasn’t expecting to see you at all today,” said Lionheart, as if to cover the awkward moment.
Javier shrugged. “It’s Wednesday.”
#
Momma forbid him to go to bed without a bath, so Harlan got out a pair of clean shorts and a towel and locked himself in the bathroom. He wasn’t supposed to lock it, because the small apartment only had the one bathroom, but he wanted a little bit of privacy. He’d had a busy, difficult day and for once didn’t mind a hot bath. It would help him unwind.
He grimaced at the state of his ribs, bruised from numerous kicks. His urine had blood in it as well, and he knew it would for at least a day following the almost-professional beating he’d received that afternoon. He didn’t care so much. The pain would go away, and soon there would be a reckoning. As the water poured into the tub, he imagined his revenge against the bullies. Torn apart by his bolt guns, burned to ashes, shredded by the great sawblade of his robot, they would die in painful, brilliant ways.
Just Cause Universe 3: Day of the Destroyer Page 14
