The Ascension: A Super Human Clash

by Michael Carroll

  I could run, but where to? He looked toward the high mesh fence cutting the prison off from the outside world. There’s no way I can climb that without being seen.

  Something buzzed behind him, and Lance heard the guard saying, “Morrison. Go ahead, boss.”

  Coleman’s voice crackled over the radio. “Any sign a the kid?”

  “No, sir. Nothing at this end. You find him yet?”

  A slight pause, then, sarcastically, “Yeah, we found him. That’s why I’m askin’ you. Just keep yer eyes peeled, Morrison.”

  Another guard said, “Blasted kid’s got to be the world champion at hide-and-seek.”

  Lance rolled onto his stomach, pushed himself to his feet. The wet mortar clinging to his uniform was much heavier than he’d expected; he felt like he was wearing a suit of armor.

  If I run, he thought, I’m going to leave a trail of this stuff behind me. Hidden from Morrison’s view by the mixer, Lance began to remove as much of the mortar as he could, scooping it off with his hands and dropping it back into the mixer.

  As he did so, he looked around the yard. In the almost total darkness it was difficult to see much, but he could just about make out the outline of the now-unladen flatbed truck that had brought the bricks into the prison.

  I could hide out in there, Lance thought, and then instantly dismissed the idea. Pretty soon they’re going to start searching everything. I need to get out of the prison.

  He kept a close eye on Morrison as he made his way over to the truck. The guard had the flashlight tucked under his chin like a phone as he scratched his backside with one hand and picked his nose with the other.

  Lance tried the truck’s passenger-side door. It was locked. He quickly removed the picks from his right sock and began probing the lock. It made no difference to Lance that he couldn’t see what he was doing; picking a lock is always done by touch alone.

  There was a soft chunk as the lock opened. Lance pulled the door open, climbed inside the cab, and slid over to the driver’s side.

  He reached down to the sides of the truck’s steering column, feeling for the ignition slot. With some effort he forced his tension wrench into the slot and gave it a twist.

  The dashboard’s lights came on.

  All right. So I can start this thing. Two important questions: Can I actually drive it, and if I ram the gates at full speed, will I get through?

  From what he remembered from his arrival at the prison, the gates had looked to be very strong. But then this truck can carry a couple of tons of bricks…. It’s got to be pretty powerful.

  But which is stronger? The gates or the truck?

  He couldn’t help grinning to himself. Well, there’s only one way to find out! Drive!

  Lance started the ignition and the truck’s engine roared to life.

  Abby de Luyando hugged close to James Klaus as they raced through the night air. James had already worked out a way for them to fly separately, but this way was easier, and a little warmer.

  But now she could feel his energy flagging. “James? Time to take a break.”

  “I can keep going.”

  “No you can’t. Set us down.”

  Far below was a large industrial park containing hundreds of warehouses and factories connected by wide, straight roads.

  James drifted down toward the flat roof of one of the warehouses, but Abby nudged his arm. “No, that one.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s got a chimney. It’ll be warmer.”

  A few minutes later they sat on the roof with their backs to the chimney stack. From deep inside came the repetitive sound of an assembly line. Its faultless rhythm was soothing, and Abby felt her eyes begin to close. “How much farther now, do you think?”

  “I couldn’t guess. I’m not even certain we’re going in the right direction. If we are, I’ll be able to hear Brawn from miles away. He’s not exactly stealthy.”

  “So when we find him…what then? There’s no way you’re going to be able to fly all three of us to New York.”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  Abby got up and stretched. “Man, I’m tired.” She walked around in a wide circle, swinging her arms back and forth in unison. “Y’know, for all we know, the soldiers from Unity might already have invaded. With them on our side, we might have a chance against Krodin. But that’s no good, because if they do invade, then a lot of innocent people will be killed.” She laughed at the situation, but it felt hollow. “So we have to stop him before the people we need to be able to stop him can get to him.”

  There was no reply. Abby looked back toward James and saw that he was asleep.

  She suddenly felt more alone than ever before. She turned on the spot, looking to the horizon all around, and the enormity of the task ahead made her feel like a single pencil dot on a sheet of paper the size of a football field.

  “This is it,” Victoria said to Roz. “Th’ link tunnel.”

  After countless twists and turns—Roz knew she’d never be able to retrace her path—through the subway tunnels and maintenance shafts, they had emerged through a side door close to the Manhattan entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel.

  Roz smiled and crouched down in front of the girl. “You did good. You got us all the way here!”

  “Said I would, dint I?”

  “You sure did.” She shone the flashlight’s beam over the tunnels’ asphalt-lined surface. “Finally, we can walk without worrying about tripping on something and breaking our necks.”

  “I hafta go to sleep now,” Victoria said, clutching her Cabbage Patch doll tighter. “An’ I’m hungry. We shoulda brung food.”

  “I told you, honey, you can’t eat that stuff anymore. It’s all gone stale. It’s not good for you.” Victoria had survived on candy bars and potato chips scavenged from vending machines throughout the subway system. “When we get to the other side, we’ll find something, I’m sure.”

  Victoria nodded, and Roz could see that her eyes were closing. “Want me to carry you again? You can sleep if you like.”

  Roz picked her up and carried her out into the tunnel. The air was stale and damp, tinged with the musty odor of fungus and wet clay. Roz’s flashlight seemed almost completely ineffective against the darkness, and there was no sound in the tunnel except for the echo of her own footsteps and Victoria’s heavy breathing.

  Something moved off to her left, and Roz swung the flashlight toward it—twin glints in the darkness flickered for a moment, then vanished. Just a rat, she told herself.

  She let go of the flashlight and used her telekinesis to raise it up almost to the tunnel’s tiled ceiling, angled it so that the beam illuminated the ground ahead of her.

  She’d half expected to see stalled cars and trucks, but the tunnel ahead appeared to be completely empty. What happened to all the cars? Manhattan used to be crazy with traffic.

  There was another noise behind her, and then something brushed against her right foot. Roz yelped and jumped aside, almost dropping Victoria.

  Her concentration broken, the flashlight fell, hit the ground with a sharp crack, and went out.

  “Aw no!” she said aloud, and the soft echo of her voice drifted back to her.

  Victoria removed her thumb from her mouth long enough to ask, “What happened?”

  “The flashlight fell. Do you still have that candle?”

  “I lef’ it behind.”

  “Never mind. We’ll be OK.” Now what do I do? Go back? No, better keep walking.

  She reached out to the right with her telekinesis, probing for the sidewall. Got it. She walked on, her progress much slower without the light to guide her.

  After a few minutes she became aware of a constant dripping sound, growing louder as she walked. Please don’t tell me the tunnel’s leaking!

  A hundred steps farther on, she realized that her boots were making light splashing sounds.

  A few more steps and she could feel the freezing water lapping over her feet.

&n
bsp; A minute later the water was up to her knees.

  It was getting harder to walk, harder still to do so quietly. As the water rose to halfway up her thighs, she hoisted Victoria a little higher with the help of her telekinesis, trying to keep the girl’s bare feet dry.

  We’ve got to be halfway by now—that has to mean that the water won’t get any deeper.

  From somewhere ahead Roz heard a brief whisper, followed by someone saying, “Shh!”

  She called out, “Anyone there?”

  Silence.

  “If anyone is there, we need your help. The water’s getting deeper, and I can’t see where we’re going!”

  Then a voice said, “It’d be a fair bit easier if you walked on the other side. You know. Where the walkway is.”

  A light shone out from the darkness, dazzling her. She blinked rapidly, looked away for a moment. When she looked back, the light was shining off to the side a little, and she could see that it was coming from a flashlight somewhere farther along, on the water.

  There was a brief burst of splashing, and then something large and yellow was floating toward her. An inflatable life raft.

  Inside, two men were paddling while a third—who seemed to be only a couple of years older than Roz—held the flashlight on her. “So,” the young man said. “Who are you, what do you want, and so on. Blah-de-blah-de-blah. I’m sure you know the drill.”

  “My name is Roz. I’m trying to get to New Jersey.”

  “And who’s this little one?”

  “Victoria. She’s been living alone in the subway tunnel for years.”

  “Right. Well, you’d better both come with us, then. My name’s Joe Ward. Welcome aboard the good ship Stolen Life Raft.” The flashlight lowered again, and the young man extended his hand. “Pass her over. Careful now…. Don’t want to capsize us, do you?”

  “It’s only a few feet deep.”

  “And my socks would get just as wet as they would if it was a hundred feet deep.”

  “Don’t wake her,” Roz said. “She’s very weak. Severely malnourished.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Joe carefully set Victoria down in the rear of the raft, then pulled off his jacket and draped it over her like a blanket. “Now grab my hand, Roz.”

  Using the man’s arm to steady herself, Roz climbed into the life raft.

  “About-face, men,” Joe said. “Tonight we set sail for Utopia!”

  The men with the paddles grumbled as they awkwardly turned the raft around.

  “It’d be easier to just start paddling in the opposite direction,” Roz said.

  “True,” Joe said. “But then maritime custom dictates that ships don’t have a reverse gear. Probably. I think it’s considered to be bad luck or something. Well, this is Nathan on your left, and on your right is Horace.”

  The man on the right said, “Bill.”

  “Yes. Bill, short for Horace. So you’re on the run, yeah? Or are you just a couple of weary travelers seeking solace on this bitterly cold winter’s evening, except it’s the summer and it’s quite warm?”

  “The first one.”

  “Good stuff. Now, I have two important questions to ask you, Roz. Ready? First question…Who are you running from?”

  “That is a long story,” Roz said. “I’d tell you, but we’d run out of tunnel before we ran out of story.”

  “Fair enough. Second question…This one is for the grand prize of eighteen million dollars…. Are you sitting comfortably, Roz? Of course you’re not. You’re in a damp life raft with three strangers quite a long way under the Hudson. Never mind. Here comes the question anyway…. What kind of an eejit do you take me for? You think we wouldn’t recognize Max Dalton’s sister when we see her?”

  “Ah,” Roz began.

  “Ah indeed. Now, I have it on good authority—Nathan here told me—that earlier today one Rosalyn Dalton mysteriously disappeared from where she was supposed to be and reappeared where she wasn’t supposed to be. An ability that she has never previously demonstrated. That’d be yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what’s going on, Roz? Someone like you could go anywhere she wanted with no questions asked. What’s with the tunnels and the hiding and all that malarkey? And picking up this little stray along the way? Not exactly the best way to keep a low profile.”

  “Like I said, it’s a long story.”

  One of the paddles thumped off solid ground, and Joe said, “Well, you can tell it to the boss. Come on. Up you get.”

  She followed Joe and the others out of the raft and helped them drag it farther out of the water.

  Roz bent over and scooped up Victoria. Still asleep, the girl wrapped her arms around Roz’s neck. She moaned a little, and Roz said, “Shh…It’s OK, honey. We’re safe now. Everything’s going to be all right.” Roz turned to Joe. “Do you have a doctor here? She really needs to be checked out. Poor little thing is freezing.”

  “No problemo,” Joe said, and called out, “Lights!”

  The tunnel’s overhead lights flickered on, and Roz saw that she was surrounded by dozens of armed men and women.

  Joe turned to Roz and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Roz, this is the New Jersey branch of the resistance. As you can see, these lovely ladies and upstanding gentlemen all have guns. So if it turns out you’re up to something that we don’t like, you’ll never leave here in one piece. Well, perhaps you will, but it’ll be one big wet, messy piece with an awful lot of bullet holes in it.”

  Roz shrugged his arm away. “You know, I can’t tell whether that was a threat or an audition.”

  Some of the people in the crowd laughed at that.

  Joe grinned. “I like you. You’re going to be fun to have around. Follow me—we’ll go see the doc.”

  Joe led her through a crude hole that had been cut into the wall, and through a series of dusty, low-ceilinged corridors. “So what’s the deal?” he asked as they walked. “Some people are saying that there’s a lot of crazy stuff going on right now. Your pal Krodin is up to something big. You know anything about that?”

  “Not really.”

  “Fair enough.” Joe stopped outside a frosted-glass door and rapped on it with his knuckles. “Got a patient for you, Doc.”

  A shadow moved behind the door, and then it was opened by a gray-haired old woman. “What do we have here?”

  “This is Roz, Doc. Just arrived. She picked up the little one back in Manhattan.”

  The woman ushered Roz into the room. “Poor little mite. Put her on the bed there, Roz, and we’ll see what we can do.”

  Roz laid Victoria down on the bed and stepped back. This was the first chance she had to see Victoria in proper light. Her arms and legs were filthy and stick-thin, covered in scabs and bruises. Her hands and feet were badly calloused, and her hair was matted with so much dirt that it was impossible to tell what color it was underneath. The only clean part of her body was her left thumb, which she’d been sucking while Roz carried her.

  “What’s her name?” the doctor asked. She pulled the Cabbage Patch doll from Victoria’s arms and passed it to Roz, then leaned closer to examine her.

  “Victoria,” Roz said. “Her family was living in the subway tunnel. They all died. She’s been alone for a long time, maybe a year or more.”

  “Another of the Praetorian’s victims, probably,” Joe said. “We’ve come across them from time to time. In the first couple of months after Krodin took control, a lot of people went on the run, and a fair few ended up in the subway tunnels.”

  Roz reached out and gently stroked Victoria’s hand. “Well, I’m glad I met her. I’d never have found my way through the tunnels without her.”

  The doctor straightened up and turned to Roz. “Will you have a seat please, Roz?” she asked, pointing to an old wooden chair nearby.

  “I’m OK. Hungry and tired, but that’s all.”

  “Sit.” It was an order, not a suggestion.

  Roz sat. “Look, I’m fine. Just tell me that
Victoria’s going to be all right.”

  The doctor exchanged a look with Joe, then crouched down next to Roz. “I’m so sorry.”

  Roz looked at Joe, then back at the doctor. “For what?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “What?” Roz swallowed heavily.

  “She died. Only a few minutes ago, I’d say.”

  “No, she’s…she’s just sleepy, that’s all. She’s…she was just talking to me! You heard her, Joe, didn’t you?”

  He shook his head. “She was asleep the whole time. Roz, she was already very weak when you handed her to me.”

  The doctor said, “We’ll give you a few minutes,” then nodded to Joe. They left her alone, closing the door behind them.

  Roz’s knees felt weak as she stood. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed the doll in Victoria’s cold arms. “You go now,” she whispered. “You go and be with your mom and your dad and your brother again.” She leaned forward and kissed Victoria’s forehead, her tears leaving clean tracks in the dirt on her face. “Thank you.”

  “You were there for her at the end,” Joe said as he slowly led Roz back through the corridors. “That’s what counts. She didn’t die alone.”

  Roz sniffed, and used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe her eyes.

  “Come on, we’ll go see the boss, if you feel up to it?”

  “OK.”

  As they approached another door, it opened and a tall, slim woman stepped out.

  “Boss, this is—”

  “I recognize her, Mr. Ward. It’s Rosalyn Dalton.”

  Roz swallowed. No…

  “I heard about your little friend, Roz. You have my sympathies. It’s amazing she lasted as long as she did.”

  Roz couldn’t speak. The shock of Victoria’s death was bad enough, but this was more than she could take.

  “So what brings you here, Roz?” the woman asked. “Realized that the Praetorians’ way of life needs to come to an end? Bear in mind that if your answer is anything other than ‘Yes,’ you might not like our reaction.”

  “You…” She stopped herself. “Yes. The Praetorians have to be stopped.”