by Darrell Pitt
“With what? I don’t have any pliers.”
“With your mind, of course!”
“Don’t yell at me!”
“I’m not yelling,” I say, lowering my voice. “You’ve got to push your arm out further.”
He reaches out further.
“Now try to bend the mesh,” Chad suggests.
“I am trying. Nothing’s happening.”
“Try harder.”
“I am. My arm is stuck.”
“You need to go out further-.” I start.
“Angle to the left -.” Chad urges.
“I can’t reach it.” Dan is almost in tears. “My arm won’t reach far enough.”
“Wait a minute.” Brodie holds up the lock pick. “Try holding on to this.”
“Why?” Dan asks. “For good luck?”
“No! You might be able to use it like an antenna.”
“So now I’m a human antenna!” Dan groans, but grabs the piece of metal from her and pushes his arm back through the wire.
“Further,” Chad urges.
“Shut up,” he grunts.
“Just a bit further!”
“Shut up!” He says furiously.
He pushes his arm through the gap with all his might and I can see scratches all the way up his arm where it has rubbed against the wire. Tears of frustration fill his eyes. The piece of metal dangles precariously from the end of his fingertips.
A sound comes from the wall. I look up. One of the emitters on the wall is moving. It is shaking.
“It’s working,” I say quietly. “You’ve got to keep going.”
The emitter continues to jiggle as if an earthquake is shaking the room. I see perspiration break out on Dan’s forehead as his eyes focus on the emitter. A line of sweat seeps down his temple. Tears trickle across his cheeks. The emitter wobbles from side to side. It breaks free from the wall, a single wire holding it in position.
It snaps free and clatters to the floor.
The door to the room flies open and a guard races in. He raises his gun. At the same moment, Dan clenches his fist and the door to our cell flies off its hinges and slams into the guard, knocking him unconscious. We exit the enclosure and make our way into the hallway outside.
“Well done,” I slap Dan on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” Chad says grudgingly. “Pretty good for a kid.”
“For a -.”
Chad ruffles his hair. “Stay cool, shorty.”
We hurry down the hallway. Before long we’ve arrived at another room. Chad pushes the door open and we all stop in the doorway. Ebony is chained to the table. Ravana is sitting across from her. He is motionless. And where his skin is showing through the bandages is white. Very white.
Ebony has turned him to salt.
She is not wearing one of her shoes. “I touched him with my foot,” Ebony says with anguish. “He was going to hurt me again.”
Chad embraces her as I remove her restraints with my mind. “It’s okay, sis,” he says. “You did what you had to do.”
He’ll get no argument from me.
We hasten from the building and race through the camp to the exit. Some sort of evacuation seems to be taking place, so the guards are hurrying in all directions. Now that the missile is ready for firing they must be preparing to withdraw from the island.
“We need to stop that weapon,” I say.
“We also need to dish out some payback,” Chad replies grimly.
Before I can say a word he releases Ebony and reaches out with clenched fists. A group of soldiers notice us for the first time. He sends balls of fire barreling towards them. As they are blasted backwards, he turns to us.
“Find the missile,” he says. “I’ll keep the rest of them busy.”
We head through the gates of the camp. Other soldiers start firing at us, but I fling them aside and we continue down the road. I remember the turn in the path I noticed earlier. Behind us I can hear a multitude of explosions. The sound of fire fills the air. Chad is obviously having fun back there. I hope he’s okay.
The jungle embraces us. We are moving quickly down the path, but we still have to watch for traps.
Finally we reach a clearing. A concrete bunker is located to one side. I see a figure break from the jungle and race towards it.
General Wolff.
“Stop!” I yell.
We hurry towards the bunker as he disappears inside. The building appears to be made from reinforced concrete. I struggle to break through, but it is too thick to tear apart.
“Dan, I need your help.”
Together we focus on the metal entry door. I find it almost impossible to budge. Slowly it starts to bend outwards from its hinges.
“It might be made of iridium,” Ebony says. “That’s one of the strongest metals known to man.”
Finally we tear the door from its housing. I expect to face a hail of bullets, but instead General Wolff steps confidently from the interior of the bunker. He looks like he could have just turned up for a garden party.
“You children are most resourceful,” he says. “Unfortunately, you are too late.”
The ground shudders under us. I turn to see the missile rising up from the jungle behind us.
“The missile is on its way,” Solomon Wolff says. “And nothing can stop it.”
Chapter Thirty – Three
I turn to the others. “I’ve got to try.”
“We’ll look after him,” Brodie says and follows up with a punch to the mercenary’s jaw. He crumples into a heap.
Then I’m off the ground and into the air. The missile is already high above the island and moving away faster with every second. I look back down at Cayo Placetas and see the others grouped around Wolff’s inert body. This might be the last time I see them.
I’m going to bring down Pegasus or die trying.
The missile continues straight up into the sky. I pursue it. The air becomes colder. It seems to fight against me and I have to remind myself it’s supposed to be my friend. I flatten myself into as streamlined a shape as possible as Mr Brown showed me. I’m going to need every advantage I can get if I’m going to stand a chance.
Up ahead of me I see the tiny body of the missile against the indigo blue sky. Pegasus is long and thin with vents to allow the intake of air. Like any jet engine, it compresses the air and ignites it, forcing itself through the sky; a controlled explosion that drives it forward on a column of thrust.
Pegasus continues to rise, but slowly its rate of ascent becomes an arc. It is aiming towards it target now. New York City. I try to cut across its arc slightly, grow slightly closer, but now it puts on an extra burst of speed.
The sky before me explodes. Shielding my eyes, at first I think Pegasus has erupted in mid flight. Then I realize the explosion has come from somewhere else. A fighter plane appears in my peripheral vision. It has fired on the missile. Its rocket has come close, but the missile has nimbly changed course to avoid it.
The fighter plane fires again. This time I actually watch its projectile streak through the sky. Just as it seems destined to strike Pegasus, the missile jerks about crazily and the projectile explodes.
It takes a few seconds for me to realize what I have just witnessed. I know a technique often used by fighter craft is to release chaff as a decoy to mislead attacking fire. This is exactly what the missile has done.
At the same time I see something arcing back across the sky towards the fighter plane. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s a tiny dot of black, no more than a full stop embedded in the blue page of sky, yet an instant later -.
The fighter craft explodes into a fiery ball.
I feel the color drain from my face. Pegasus is more than a missile. It is a fully equipped battle system. Not only can it avoid oncoming attacks, but it can fight back as well.
Might have been nice of Twelve to mention this.
The missile changes direction again.
I glance down we are far above the ocean. We’re sti
ll far from land, but I know we’re probably charging directly towards Florida. The missile may curve inland or may follow the long coast towards New York. It can move at almost three times the speed of sound so it will take less than an hour to reach its target. I need to speed up if I intend to stand any chance of catching up with Pegasus.
But how can I move that fast?
The fastest I travelled in training was little more than twice the speed of sound and even that was simply in a straight line. A memory comes back to me from Mr Brown. He spoke about how I might be able to increase my speed if I could create a vacuum directly ahead of me. Such an action would be impossible for a normal fighter jet – they need air to function – but it was theoretically possible for me because of my ability to control air.
Theoretically possible.
It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.
I pour on more speed. At the same time I focus on dispersing the air directly before my flight path. After a few seconds I realize Pegasus is closer. Or rather, I’ve grown closer to it.
How long do we have? We’ve been in the air almost half an hour. The wind is tearing past me and now it’s increasingly harder to breathe. I’m not sure how long I can keep going like this, but at least now I’m making some headway. The missile is now less than a mile away.
Something catches my eye. Three somethings. I glance over and see a series of fighter craft winging through the sky towards the missile. At the same time I see them fire and rockets arch across the sky towards Pegasus. Once again I see tiny dots leave the rear of Pegasus just before the rockets strike.
The projectiles explode in mid flight.
Simultaneously, three rockets eject from Pegasus and head towards the fighter craft. They take evasive maneuvers, rolling and somersaulting through the sky. One of them is struck almost immediately. The second fighter executes a quick roll and fires two more shots at the missile.
As Pegasus disposes of the two rockets I see the second fighter craft burst into flame. It draws a long blackened stain across the sky before disappearing from sight.
Now it’s only me and a single fighter craft remaining. So far the lone ship has avoided Pegasus’ retaliatory action. As this realization sinks in I catch sight of something that chills me to the bone. I’ve been so intent on keeping up with Pegasus that I haven’t noticed the changing landscape below. I can see a section of coast. It’s the distinctive shape of Chesapeake Bay. New York is only minutes away.
Time is running out.
I pour on even more speed, but the missile seems to be capable of going even faster. It jerks suddenly in the sky and another missile explodes, but still it remains aloft. It can be only seconds before it detonates.
Something explodes near me and the blast throws me off course.
No!
I veer out of control for a few seconds, cart wheeling through the sky like a firework. Where is Pegasus? I spy a tiny silver streak in the sky. It seems to be reducing altitude. It must be preparing to detonate. I aim towards it, pouring on as much speed as I can. The shockwave from the blast has slowed me down and now I’ve got to make up for lost time.
I can see Long Beach and a main road. It must be the Garden State Parkway. Eventually it meets up with the New Jersey Turnpike. New York is only moments away. I either stop the missile now or I never will. I give a final burst of speed and see the remaining fighter craft fire three more rockets at the missile. They explode impotently in mid air. Even I think the fighter’s efforts are fruitless.
Now the jet aircraft pours on more speed. I think I realize what the pilot intends to do. If he can’t shoot the missile down he intends to set a collision course with the weapon. He understands the stakes as well as me.
Even then I doubt he will succeed. The designers of Pegasus took into account the capabilities of the greatest fighter craft in the world. They knew exactly what to expect.
Of course, they didn’t know about me.
They didn’t know that one day a teenage boy would be turned into some sort of super weapon.
A super hero.
And now I know what I have to do.
Pegasus is just like any other jet engine. It requires an intake of air to propel it forward. There’s no time left to wonder if this is going to work. There’s only time to act because millions of people are about to die.
Instead of projecting a vacuum ahead of myself, I project it around the body of Pegasus. The effect is almost instantaneous. The missile seems to stutter in mid flight. Its jet engines can’t operate without air.
Something whirrs past me at incredible speed. The remaining fighter pilot has realized something is wrong with the missile. He has gotten off a shot in the hope it may impact.
A bright flash appears before me. I close my eyes, expecting the worse. Has the warhead exploded? Has the city dissolved in molten destruction? Have a million people lost their lives in a hellfire of nuclear energy?
I slowly open my eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Congratulations.” Twelve shakes my hand. “Congratulations on a job well done.”
I realize it’s the first time I have actually touched the alien. He feels surprisingly human. He gives me a final nod and moves on to shake hands with a very surprised looking Dan.
It’s a party and God knows I don’t remember ever having celebrated another party. I don’t remember birthdays or Christmases or christenings or anything else so I intend to make the most of this one.
Three days have passed since the destruction of Pegasus. Our role in the attack on Typhoid and the destruction of the rocket are still a secret to most of the personnel at The Agency. There are a hundred projects taking place here at any one time and our efforts to save New York City just happen to be one of them.
Brodie sidles up to me. “Looks like we’re suddenly Twelve’s best friends.”
“I think whoever gets the job done is his best friend,” I tell her quietly. “Anyway, the operation wasn’t a complete success.”
I suppose I’m being hard on myself. Typhoid was not finished, but Mr Jones informed us the organization had been dealt a severe blow; Solomon Wolff was now on the run. Where he would turn up next was anyone’s guess.
So Typhoid was down, but not out as was Wolff. That’s a disappointment. I would have liked to have seen Solomon Wolff languishing in a cell considering everything he wanted to put us through.
Still…
“Stop brooding,” Brodie nudges me. “You saved New York City from certain destruction.”
“Me and another guy. A fighter pilot I never got to thank.”
She presses my arm. “The world is made up of nameless heroes.”
Someone appears at my side. Doctor Sokolov.
I give her a smile. “Come to join the party?”
She returns the smile, but I can sense a strain playing behind the curve of her mouth. “I thought I would add my congratulations to the all conquering heroes.” Her eyes shift to Brodie and across to Twelve. She takes my arm. “Have you tried the canapés?”
The Doctor gently leads me over to the table. I fire a glance at Brodie. I don’t know if she looks troubled or just plain jealous. It’s hard to tell with that girl. The doctor passes me a paper plate. On it sits a cracker decorated with cream cheese and chicken breast.
“These are very good,” she says, her eyes boring into mine. “But you must be careful not to eat them too quickly.”
She smiles and looks over my shoulder with a look of delight. “Harry! I didn’t expect you here today!”
Disappearing into the crowd, I’m left standing there with the paper plate and the single savory. Brodie comes over.
“What was that all about?”
I shrug. “Oh, nothing. She just likes her food. That’s all.”
I hate to lie to Brodie. If there’s anyone I’ve come to trust, it’s her. I would – and already have – entrusted my life to her a dozen times over. Still, someone told me something a lifetime ago that h
as kept me alive till now.
Trust no-one.
I make some more small talk before gently extricating myself from the party and into the gentleman’s toilet. I step into one of the cubicles and pull the savory from my pocket. In the centre of it is a folded piece of paper.
On it is written:
Corridor 11E / 16:00 hours
Nothing else.
She’s a woman of few words, I think.
I’m trying to make light of the whole incident, but my stomach knows better.
There’s something seriously wrong here. When I first woke up in that room, Doctor Richards told me I should seek out The Agency. But what did he say?
“Some…at The Agency…will help you.”
Some at The Agency are on our side. But others -.
What about the others? Are they our enemy? Who here can be trusted?
Can I can trust Doctor Sokolov? How do I know she’s not some sort of double agent?
My mind whirls in confusion. I stand in the cubicle mulling over my options. In the end I realize there’s only one thing I can do. I have to meet with her. At least I have my powers. I will be on guard the whole time. If she tries to take me down, if it looks like it’s any sort of trap -.
Well, I just took down a missile. I think I can handle a solitary scientist.
The next few hours pass slowly. Chad and Dan want me to join them above ground for a throw of a ball, but I tell them I’m busy. I mope around our dorm room until the time draws near. Then I make my way to the junction indicated on the note. When I arrive I realize this point has been chosen for a very specific reason. It is one of the few areas not monitored by security cameras.
No sooner have I found the spot than a nearby door opens slightly. I can just make out Anna’s figure in the doorway.
“Quickly,” she says.
She urges me through the door, securing it behind me. I find myself in a narrow corridor. The silence closes in around me.
“You must follow me,” Anna says. “We will be missed if we are gone for too long.”
“What is this about?” I demand. “I’m not going anywhere until you -.”
She grips my arm. “Listen! You and your friends are in terrible danger! If you want to survive you must come with me.”
