Super World Two

by Lawrence Ambrose

  Horner approached, wiping his hands off on the back of his jeans. Bastard was fit as ever, muscles bursting out of his tank top. Jake was tempted to squeeze a little when they shook hands, just to watch his eyes bulge out, but breaking his friend's bones wasn't part of the plan.

  "Jenna Wells," Jake said.

  "Greg Horner. I didn't expect..." He stopped himself, chewing down the words that Jake imagined were aching to come out: Such a mind-blowing hot chick! "I didn't, ah, expect you to be this early."

  "Sorry. Got here a little sooner than I'd expected and nowhere else to go, so..."

  "No, no, that's fine." He gestured to the house. "Let's go inside. Maybe you want something to drink or eat while I clean up a tad?"

  "I could use a cold brew. This shithole's even hotter than my part of sunny California."

  Horner raised a puzzled eyebrow. "It's usually a lot cooler this time of year. Been having a heat wave this week."

  He held open the door for Jake, and rushed in after him to open some curtains, shedding light on counters and floors abounding in dust bunnies. Horner had never been much into dusting – or any kind of housecleaning, really.

  "I was planning to vacuum before you came," he said.

  "You mean you actually have a vacuum that works?"

  Horner's eyebrow raised in puzzlement again. A slight frown was starting up on his face.

  "I'll get you that beer," he said. "Just be a minute."

  He grabbed a beer from the fridge and jogged off toward the bathroom. Jake couldn't ever remember his friend acting so cowed around a woman. His shtick was pure alpha male power trip: come on confident and macho enough to melt the right girl's panties. And despite all the liberal-beta-male-cuck blathering, plenty of women still dug that. Hell, maybe most of them. But of course, girls had power games of their own. Pretty soon they'd start chipping away, playing little head-trips, looking for ways to "tame" you. Jake had gone through that a hundred times himself. So far the routine had never changed. The difference between him and Horner is that Jake sometimes went a little soft, started working to please his babe, starting wondering if maybe there was more to a relationship, maybe something long-lasting and meaningful. Maybe this girl was The One.

  Horner never fell for that bullshit. The moment his main squeeze got uppity, he kicked her ass to the curb. And it wasn't unusual for Horner to have more than one "squeeze" at any given time. But now he was scurrying around like a love-struck puppy. But then he'd never met anyone close to Jenna's level. Every woman either of them had were strictly bush league compared to Jenna.

  Jake sipped his beer and tried to mellow out and prepare for what was coming. Which didn't take long in arriving: Horner with his short hair wetted down, freshly shaved and shirted, exuding Old Spice. His shit-eating grin suggested he was now past his crisis of confidence and back in the women-winning saddle again. This was going to be fun.

  Jake finished his beer and held up the can between the forefingers of his right and left hand. He pushed inward, flattening the can down the middle, its edges curling up around his fingers. Greg's grin deflated. The rest of his large body followed suit.

  "Oh, shit," he said. "I knew you were too good to be true."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You talk like a man."

  Jake's own smile flickered. His old Stone Age friend was capable of an occasional insight.

  "You're one of them, aren't you?" Horner asked with a sigh.

  Jake set the flattened beer can on the kitchen table. He hadn't quizzed Jamie Shepherd about her meeting with Greg. For all he knew, she had crushed a beer can, too.

  "I guess that depends who you mean by them."

  "One of those people like that fembot who called herself Jamie something or other."

  "Jamie Shepherd. Jesus, Horner, you can't even remember the name of someone who demonstrated superpowers to your face?"

  He regarded Jake with sullen eyes. "So you are one of them."

  "Yeah. But I'm no fucking robot. Do I really look like a machine to you?" Jake cupped his breasts.

  "No, but she didn't, either. And you sure as hell ain't no lady."

  "I should slap you into the nearest parallel universe for saying that."

  "There's that bullshit about parallel universes again. So what are you people, really?"

  "Exactly what Jamie Shepherd told you, numnuts."

  "Numnuts?" Horner's eyes went wide. "No way. No fucking way."

  "No fucking way what?"

  "It just hit me who you talk like. An old friend. Ex-friend. The one you said you were coming here to talk about."

  "Funny coincidence."

  "You obviously learned to talk like him. You're his girlfriend?"

  "I wish."

  "Why would you wish that?"

  "For one, he's handsome as fuck. Two, he's got half a brain, unlike present company. Two, he has an honest job serving people instead of serving a bunch of bloodsucking mercenaries."

  Horner straightened up, big fists forming at his sides. Jake's adrenaline kicked in. It was like a stroll down déjà vu lane. Only this time, Jake, even in this scrumptious body, could hand his old buddy his ass with barely a flick of his finger.

  "Brings back old times, don't it?" Jake asked.

  Horner pulled up, plunking one of his fists down on the kitchen counter. He blinked as though suddenly coming awake.

  "Wait a holy roller second," he growled. "You not only sound like Jake Culler..."

  "Go ahead, finish that thought and you might win the prize – maybe a fabulous vacation to Fresno."

  "Is he...like in your head somehow?"

  "He's in this body pretty much everywhere. Though admittedly not quite in the way he'd like to be."

  Horner shook his head as if trying to clear out cobwebs.

  "Okay, I'll spell it out for you: I am your former bestest buddy, the guy who laid out your ex-Marine ass the last time we met."

  "That's not how I remember it." Horner turned his head half-sideways, peering at him. "You had a sex-change operation? You're a transsexual now? You always wanted to be a woman?" He scratched his broad chin, nodding as if having a revelation. "Jesus, that's it, isn't it? That's why you started whining about 'relationships' and shit when you got hung up on some cooze or got all prissy about my work?"

  Now it was Jake shoving himself to his feet. The force of his hands on the table snapped two of its legs and drove it to the floor. Horner took a step back.

  "No, dipshit, I am not a goddamned trannie. I didn't have any operation. My superpower, or one of them, is shapeshifting."

  Horner blinked at him.

  "You know, metamorphosis, like werewolves and shit."

  "You can change into someone else?"

  "Yup. Hell, I could probably change into you, if I wanted to punish myself or something."

  "How does that work?"

  "I'm not sure." Jake shrugged. "I think it might require some physical contact – the girl whose body this is was someone I hugged – and some concentration. I changed when I was thinking about her."

  "All right...shit." Horner massaged his face, staring at the floor, gathering his thoughts, perhaps accepting the impossible at last, Jake thought. "You're leaving out something. Like how you got this ability. Something to do with that blond bitch?"

  "Yeah. She figured out how to give someone the alien 'nanovirus.'" He shrugged when Horner scowled at him. "I didn't invent the name. Anyway, turns out you can share the virus through your tears."

  "So...you're saying her story's true."

  "You never considered that possibility?"

  "I couldn't make myself believe it. I figured it had to be some top secret government project. They once asked me to sign up for a super soldier DARPA project, you know. They called it 'Enhanced Biological and Technological Combat Soldier.' I turned them down."

  "Why? Not because you grew an actual conscience, I'm guessing."

  "Fuck you, asshole. No, it was because I don't wa
nt to be a fucking machine. I didn't spend all those years making my body into this" – he flexed a vein-capped mountainous bicep – "to become a damn robot."

  "Your personal integrity is so inspiring."

  "Since when did you become a saint?"

  A scene that haunted Jake's nightmares returned in Technicolor: a group of kids yelling taunts, and one of them suddenly pulling a weapon from his shawl. It had been a weapon, hadn't it? He and his platoon hadn't waited to find out.

  Jake regarded his former friend and comrade in arms, seeing the hurt in his eyes, the same haunted eyes he'd seen too often in the mirror, and his anger fled. Jake couldn't shame Greg into doing the right thing. The best he could do now was open his mind to the possibility. The rest would be Greg's decision.

  "You're right, Greg," he said. "I'm no damn saint. I don't have a right to judge you."

  Horner stared at him for a long moment. "Man, you really have gone girly on me."

  "Boobs will do that to you."

  Horner broke out laughing. Jake laughed with him. The tension, the years of resentment, seemed to flow away on a tide of laughter. Horner broke out another couple of beers, one for himself.

  "Okay," he said. "I'm going to take this seriously, mainly 'cause I don't see much choice." He hesitated. "Can you change back?"

  "I think so. I'm pretty sure, though I haven't done it yet. I thought about doing it before I came here, but I'm glad I didn't. Way too much fun to fuck with you."

  "So why are you here? For old times? To recruit me like Jamie Shepherd tried to do?"

  "To tell the truth, I wasn't sure about that. I just got in my car and started driving. And strange shit started happening." Jake grunted out a laugh. "But I had the idea of seeing you from the start. We went through too much together to leave it the way we did."

  Horner lowered his head, his jaw working.

  "We have a fight ahead of us," said Jake. "And it's not about fighting to make some rich asshole richer. This is about fighting for the whole human race. I'm going to join Jamie and her people, and I'd like you to sign up with me. I need someone to cover my six."

  Horner stood with his head dipped, staring at a spot on the floor. Seconds passed. His chest expanded in a raspy intake of air and he raised his eyes to meet Jake's.

  "You're talking about making me like Jamie and you. Giving me superpowers."

  "Yup."

  "How does that work?"

  "Tears, as I said. Guess I have to shed one or two and put them in your eyes...or mouth."

  Horner smiled. "It might be worth it just to see you ball like a girl."

  KIM-LY FOUND a nonhuman presence lurking somewhere in space not far from Earth. "Not far" wasn't a precise measurement – more an impression. Another impression was bad intent. She caught the thought: When they die the oceans will be ours. She knew they were thinking about the people of Earth. Why the oceans? She put the question out there, but as was the case so often, it bounced back marked: return to sender. Not really, but that's how she labeled her unanswered thoughts.

  Now the challenge was locating them. She knew they were in a ship. She caught flashes of the stars around them. Unfortunately, her background in biology and genetics didn't help much with astronomical positioning. Fortunately, one evening while eating pizza that Jamie had ordered in, she saw something that didn't require a degree in astronomy: a big glowing white ball, almost close enough to touch! That had to be the sun, assuming the ship was as close as she sensed it was.

  She told Jamie, her whispery voice covering her excitement. Jamie, her beautiful Jamie. Well, not hers, of course. Only in her dreams.

  Jamie called Nathan Andrews, their official liaison to the Tomlinson Administration. Nate was just recovering from his own nanovirus sickness courtesy of Jamie – her idea, not his – but he was able to drag himself out of bed and contact the government. He called back a short time later saying President Tomlinson requested Jamie and her "super entourage" to come meet the government's superpowered team at Dugway and begin training together."

  "Man," said Tildie, "doesn't that sound like fun?"

  "It has to happen," said Jamie, "but not necessarily on their terms."

  "Or on their turf," Cal chimed in.

  Jamie nodded and then sighed. The details of how they'd work with the government "super team" had been left mostly in the air. No discussion of who'd be in charge or what the organizational structure would be. In DIE, it had been pretty simple: she had a basic task and as the team leader she made the decisions. With input and discussion, but still – her decisions. This was going to be very different, and she was fairly sure not in a good way.

  "But we do need a private place to train together," she said. "I don't know. Maybe we could meet somewhere more neutral."

  "How many of these government super-people are there?" Dennis asked. "Did Nate mention anything about that?"

  "Twenty-six."

  "Versus?" Cal looked around. "Eight – once Terry Mayes and Kevin Clarkson recover? Nine, if Karen Clarkson decides to take the plunge. Plus your military guy and maybe his pal?"

  "Jake said he and Greg Horner will come as soon as Greg recovers," said Jamie.

  "Still badly outnumbered."

  "You're forgetting who's on our side." Tildie pointed to Jamie. "She's an Apex, one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, out of billions of people. What are the odds they can come even close out of twenty-six?"

  "The odds are astronomically opposed," Kim-Ly declared, her dark eyes warmly focused on Jamie. "Not only to matching her, but to us as well – her elite teams being selected from hundreds of thousands of candidates, if not millions. Assuming the variables are the same or similar."

  Jamie shook her head. "I'm not sure I would assume that."

  But she wanted to believe it was true. DARE had millions of people in their data bank to look at, and out of those millions, thousands were selected. Then hundreds. And finally, her team. So, in theory, picking twenty-something people at random didn't offer good odds of matching anything close to her elite group. Still, things were different here. Tildie's powers were similar to her other self, but her dad's were bizarrely different. It remained to be seen how the others would turn out. Jake hadn't been forthcoming at all about his changes, only describing them as "pretty fucking freaky." They'd only know what they were up against when they met the government team – and they wouldn't know what they had themselves until everyone had recovered and had a chance to assess themselves.

  "We can talk to them about a meeting/training place," said Jamie, "but I wouldn't want to meet them until our people are up to full speed."

  "Amen to that," said Cal.

  THE MOMENT Jake had been yearning for, and terrified of: meeting Jenna Wells again. He was parked outside the real estate office in Lafayette, Colorado, where she worked. He could see her through the window, talking to what he assumed was a potential buyer or maybe a seller, smiling and nodding and looking heart-achingly beautiful while the fat-faced middle-aged dude sitting across the table from her grinned and bobbed his head as if she was serving up giant helpings of wisdom or great news.

  Jake drank from his McDonald's coffee cup wishing it was beer, but booze-breath wasn't the impression he wanted to make. He kept checking the time on his dash, counting down the seconds until her day would surely end and he could make his pitch to her.

  Jenna emerged from the office building a bit after five, the happy as hell face she'd worn with fatso replaced with a somber half-frown. Jake climbed out of his Pontiac, glancing in either direction, seeing no sign of Alfonso. Good.

  Jenna spotted him crossing the street toward her. She stopped opening the door to a white Camry and turned to face him. Jake paused to let a car pass before jogging up to her. She crossed her arms, her purse forming a shield in the center of her chest. Her eyes were wide and glistening with vulnerability.

  "Surprised?" he asked.

  "Sort of. Though I have to admit I sometimes find myself expe
cting to bump into you walking around a corner or something. Sometimes, I swear I've seen you in a crowd..."

  She dropped her eyes, frowning as if she'd said too much.

  "Lucky for me, I've been able to see a lot of you," said Jake, with a shaky smile. "All I had to do was look in the mirror."

  "Then...it was real? I did believe it then...now it seems impossible to believe."

  "I know. I lived it and still find it almost impossible to believe." He reached out and touched the side of her face, feeling the muscles quiver. "I could show you. I can change pretty damn quickly."

  Jenna stared at him for a moment before nodding across the street. "Your car."

  "You remember."

  "Kind of hard to forget."

  "Can I buy you a drink? Dinner?"

  She gave him a quick shake of her head. "Why don't we take a drive? We can talk."

  "My car?"

  "Mine, I think."

  "Okay. Whatever you want."

  Jake rounded the car and climbed in beside her. They eased away from the curb.

  "You didn't have any trouble finding me, I guess," she said.

  "Nope. That nosy little bitch called the internet."

  They drove down a double street past gated communities.

  "Nice neighborhood. I never got around to asking what your boyfriend does for a living."

  "He's a botanist. Teaches at the Boulder Community College. Why?"

  "Just wondering. Community college. That fits."

  "Do you really want to talk about him?"

  "I'd rather talk about us."

  "What us? Jake, we just met! We don't even know each other."

  Jake had been anticipating that. But the words he'd been planning, the argument he thought could overpower those obvious objections, struck him as silly now. There wasn't any argument, really. This was just about a gut feeling. Or as a woman might say, about the "heart."

  "I know," he said in a soft, resigned voice.

  She shot him a puzzled, perhaps disappointed, look. "Then why did you come here?"

  "Because if I didn't try..." He bit off the sentence with a scowl. "Could I ask you something? Are you happy – completely content with the way things are?"