by Nat Kozinn
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“They ask me if I was scared. If I was worried the government was going to stop me. But lots of them ask me why I was the only one. Why I was the only Different who did what I did,” David said from his ratty old recliner.
“What do you tell them?” Alexis asked.
“I tell them they’re wrong. I wasn’t alone. The Wandering Angel roamed the countryside healing the sick, and no one ever found out who he was. There was that team of five that called themselves the Protectors that operated in Philadelphia for a couple years. Back when there was still a Philadelphia. Then there was Captain Freedom in Chicago. And those are just the obvious ones. Roberto Gomez was keeping two hundred people warm before he became Ultracorps’ human sun. Julia Chekov fed thousands of people in New York before she gave Manna to the rest of the country. There are dozens of stories like that, but people don’t want to hear them.”
“Okay, fair enough. But you still get why people ask, right? There may have been others, but no one like you. Sure, now it’s illegal, but it wasn’t for a while, and no one else protected a whole Metro Area. No one competent at least.”
“Listen, Captain Freedom was obviously an idiot, but he was trying to do something good for Chicago even if he ended up making things worse. But even before they outlawed vigilante Differents, there was a good reason why you didn’t see all that many people trying it: Telepaths.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think like five percent of the Different population is Telepaths. That’s great for think.Net, but it makes the idea of being a hero rather hard. It doesn’t matter if you’re as strong as a freight train or your body grows back like a weed. If you can’t protect yourself from Telepaths, you can’t be a hero. Nobody says this, but in a way, Chicago got off easy with Captain Freedom. Sure, he got in that fight and ended up burning a quarter of the city down, but if a Telepath got in his head, he could have done much more damage. He was probably the third physically strongest Different that ever lived, after BlueHawk and me. He could have leveled the whole Metro Area, and the army would have had trouble stopping him. Hell, I probably would have had to go out there, and I don’t think a fight between us would have been any better for Chicago.”
“The Younger Gang had Telepaths, right? Why don’t you tell me about them?”
“They had two Telepaths,” David began. “The Younger brothers. At least that’s what they said their name was. Most records like driver’s licenses or birth certificates were lost in the Plagues, so if they lied, how would we know? They were Plague orphans by all accounts. They probably wouldn’t have fared much better themselves, if not for the fact that they turned out to be Differents. They started a little gang with two other Differents: a Strong-Woman named Jessie and this other one, Reggie. His body produced some sort of toxic gas that could knock people out or kill them if they were close to it for too long.
“They started out not too far from here, doing the things that gangs do: stealing, gambling, and selling drugs. Heroin and cocaine, I think. The guy who makes Tranq wasn’t in business yet. There were quite a few gangs like them back when the Plagues were really going, even more than they are now. But the Youngers grew quickly thanks to their Different leaders. Even still, they seemed content enough to operate in their territory, and back then the cops wouldn’t have even dreamed of coming out to these neighborhoods, not that that’s really changed. That was until some senator’s son overdosed on drugs he bought from the gang. That made the police move in on them, and that’s when things really started to get hairy.
“The SWAT team rolled in. They brought a battering ram and one of those armored cars. Threw some smoke grenades, stormed the place in formation, the whole deal. But it failed spectacularly because six of the officers turned around and gunned down the rest of the crew right after they charged into the building. That’s because the Younger brothers got in their heads and told them to do it.
“The police shouldn’t have poked the bear. Once they realized even the cops couldn’t stop them, they went on a rampage. They used their six new police troops/hostages to take out all the other gangs in the area. The cops would roll up to ‘question’ the rival gangs. Then, once everybody had their hands up, the Younger brothers would make the cops mow them all down. It wasn’t just gangs; they did the same thing to a bank and a nightclub they took over to use as a base. This was the height of the Plagues. There was no think.Net, only radio, but nobody really had the hand-crank ones yet, so they were broadcasting warnings, but there was no way for most people to hear them. As far as anyone could tell, a gang of cops was terrorizing the city, and considering all the other horrors everyone was enduring, it wasn’t a stretch to add rogue cops to the list.
“The real police couldn’t stop them. They had no way to deal with the Telepaths let alone the Strong-Woman and the poison maker. Maybe if they sent the whole force they could have overwhelmed the gang, but they would have incurred heavy losses, and there were about a thousand other problems the cops needed to be dealing with. The army wasn’t in any better position to help. It was just trying to get the Metro Areas going, which meant the military was spread up and down the coast trying to funnel survivors to Seattle or Los Angeles.
“That meant I was the only option. They tried to get a hold of me for a couple weeks, but at that point I was busy myself, getting the supply lines going for all the food the new Metro Area would need. California was the breadbasket for the west coast, and the few crops that survived the Plagues and the nuclear fallout were basically the only thing there was to eat. The biggest problem was finding enough gasoline to run trucks full of food up here. The Plagues ate most of the fuel, too. When cars broke down or tankers needed to be moved, I was the one who did it. I ran around like the Pied Piper of transportation. I was so strong I could push two trucks at once without even trying, and while I wasn’t quite a Speedster, considering how powerful I was, I came pretty close. The point is I was doing something pretty damn important, and it took a whole lot of pleading from the Seattle P.D. to convince the federal government that I should be told about what was going on.
“As soon as I heard, I made the ten jumps back to Seattle. By then, I was late to the party. The Younger Gang knew it was just a matter of time till I showed up. And they were waiting for me. Now I’m not sure if I’m remembering it with rose-colored glasses, but I swear when I walked up, it was like a scene from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. The streets were empty. Even the most curious people hiding in their houses were terrified. It was silent as midnight even though it was the middle of the day. If a tumbleweed had come blowing by, it would have fit right in.
“The Younger brothers set a trap, or at least they thought they did. When I closed in on the club, they had their six police hostages lined up at attention. They looked like those guards in England. You know, the ones with the big hats.
“The power had really gone to their heads, and they had embraced this Old West mystique. I guess they saw themselves as rebel outlaws, not murderous bastards. They had tried to transform the old nightclub they took over. There was a giant crummy-looking sign that said, ‘Clear Water Saloon.’ And somebody had built a porch that looked like it would have fallen over from a stiff breeze. They had even replaced the doors with those double swinging half-door things, whatever they’re called.
“It was the same inside. They had managed to get their hands on a player piano somehow, and it was playing some old-timey-sounding tune when I came in. The brothers must have raided a costume shop or a museum because they were fully decked out. Cowboy boots that actually had spurs, leather chaps, ten-gallon hats, and gun belts at their waists complete with actual Colt 45s. Or maybe they were replicas. Either way, they were proud as hell of them.
“The older one was spinning the gun on his finger when I walked in. He pointed it at me and then went back to spinning. I’ll always remember his toothy grin. The gang was ecstatic. They let me waltz right in because they saw me as a gift. They thought t
he greatest weapon on the planet had just been delivered to their waiting arms. The brothers figured they’d take over my mind, and then they probably imagined they’d take over the rest of the world. I guess they never wondered if I could actually be that stupid.
“You see, the government ran hundreds of tests on me after I turned, including seeing whether Telepaths would work on me. And the results were that they didn’t. Something about the way I was changed makes it so my brain is abnormal just like the rest of me. It’s why I can’t use think.Net, and it’s also why the Younger brothers couldn’t get in my head. They didn’t get right to trying to take over my thoughts. They had a whole song and dance prepared. They told me I was part of the fascist establishment or something like that. And I was just being used by the corporate oligarchy. Lots of that nonsense. I don’t think they even understood the words they were saying. Then they told me if I was willing to recant, they’d overlook my transgressions.
“When they were done, I said some words that aren’t fit to print. Then I let out a nice long belly laugh. I think that’s when they tried to get in my head. I don’t know for sure ’cause I can’t even tell when someone tries. But those boys turned so red I thought they were about to burst into flames. Then, finally, one of ’em yelled that it wasn’t working, and they pulled out their Colt 45s and started shooting. The cop slaves came in and joined them.
“Of course, gunshots weren’t any more effective against me than Telepaths. I was content to let them wear themselves out until a bullet ricocheted off me and hit one of the officers in the leg. The cops gave me syringes full of God knows what to knock the Telepaths out, and I just walked up and stuck them both. It’s a good thing I had that, too. Back then it was hard for me to hit someone without turning them into a bloody pile of goo.
“There were the two other Differents, but they couldn’t really hurt me either. I only breathe so I can talk. My body doesn’t actually process the oxygen, so that protected me from whatever was in the poison-maker’s gas. And the Strong-Woman—what can I say—she might have been strong compared to anybody else, but I wasn’t anybody else. I’m ashamed to admit I let her take a swing at me. I was arrogant and curious. It was a hell of a shot. When you’re talking about that kind of force, weird stuff happens. There was some kind of explosion.”
“An explosion?” Alexis said, her eyes going wide.
“Not a big one or anything. But there was a flash and she got a few little burns. She also broke her wrist real bad. Bone popped out of the skin. It was gnarly. She gave up after that, which was nice because we didn’t have enough sedative to put her down and I was taught never to hit a woman. After that, I ran the wounded cop over to the hospital. He made a full recovery. Then I helped return some of the heavier items they stole to their rightful owners, and that was the end of the Younger Gang. It wasn’t a fight. Not really. Sorry, it’s not much of a story.”
“Yeah, it was a real bore,” Alexis said as she furiously wrote her notes.
7
Alexis sidestepped a dolly as she walked into the bullpen. The dolly was packed to the limit with boxes upon boxes of files pushed by a blue-uniformed worker. The worker had a half-dozen friends hard at work around the rest of the newsroom bullpen, piling up and wheeling away similar dollies full of papers.
Harry overlooked the proceedings, his mouth locked in a half-smile. He bobbed his head to a little ditty inside his own head. It was upbeat.
“Doing a little spring cleaning, boss?” Alexis asked.
“That ain’t all. No, siree,” Harry said, and his smile moved to full. “We’re getting ourselves walls. Not real ones. Cubicle walls. They’re like half-walls really. But still walls.”
“How am I going to work? All the luxury will have me too relaxed. But I don’t buy it that we really couldn’t afford walls before. I’m guessing this is more about your mood than your balance sheet.”
“Can you blame me?” he said, somehow smiling wider. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a win. I’d like to be able to see the effects of a fortune turning when I look out from my office. Sales have been up for two months straight. I don’t think that’s happened in my lifetime. Which leads me to more good news: we’re getting two new interns. Paid ones!”
“Wow, my head is spinning, but seriously, we can’t go too nuts right now. The rains have come, but we’ll go back to a drought soon enough. This golden goose only has so many eggs to lay. The only question is whether he runs out of stories before the public runs out of interest.”
“You’re right. Your overuse of metaphors offended the editor in me, but I know you’re right, at least mostly, but there’s a chance this is bigger than the Savior. The Metro Post’s sales are up fifteen percent and they haven’t been running two exclusive interviews a week for the last two months. Maybe the public has finally had enough of mindless drivel on think.Net and they are ready to go back to the written word.”
“I didn’t even know you could still get your hopes up. Come on, Harry. The only reason the Post’s sales are up is that people are looking for the latest on the Savior, but they don’t even know enough about newspapers to know the difference between us and them.”
“That’s one explanation, and maybe even the right one, but either way, people are reading papers again, so we better take our shot to hook ’em. Which is why I’ve been—cough—having some talks with Rebecca Vorhees.”
“Rebecca Vorhees… from the LA Times…”
“Nothing is for sure yet, but it’s looking like it might happen. Ever since Art died and that idiot son of his took over, it’s been a mess there. Becca has been trying to get a new deal signed for months, but they’ve been dragging their feet. She finally had enough, so she gave me a shot, and I got her thinking.”
“You’re going to start a gossip column? Seriously? That doesn’t even make any sense. This is Seattle. We don’t have celebrities or the rich and famous.”
“It’s not like she was waiting in the bushes outside Burt Greyland’s house herself. She’s got guys. Guys that she pays herself and will keep working for her wherever she goes. The LA Times will end up having to pay us to syndicate her once they realize how big a mistake they made, but I don’t see any problem with that,” Harry said with a shrug.
“How do you even have enough cash to pay her sign-on? Ad buys aren’t until next week.”
“We’ve been getting paid by the think.Net pubs for syndication, and the checks have been going up every week. But that’s not all. I had the genius idea to sell early access to your interviews to one lucky pub. They’ll get to release their coverage the same day your interview publishes. It’s started quite the bidding war. Lots of zeroes, and I’m holding out for every dime I can get.”
“You’re really going all in. You sure you’re not overplaying our hand?” Alexis said.
“Well, we don’t have much to lose. Hey, you were the one who talked me into this. Don’t bail on me now.”
“Never, chief. As long as you keep your promise to run my sanitation story.”
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Alexis and a younger woman were sitting together at a table in a hotel bar. It was the picture of swank. Pendant-shaped WormLights hung from the ceiling. The bar and tables were made from sleek white granite. The drinks were in funky-shaped glasses made of crystal. In those glasses was liquor that cost enough to feed a family of four out in the Heights.
The bar patrons were just as elegant as their surroundings—finely tailored business suits with shiny leather shoes or sleek black dresses and beautiful silver or gold jewelry. It looked like many important meetings were happening under the guise of getting a drink after work. The woman Alexis was sitting with, Laurie Hanson, fit in just as well. Her dress had sleek gaps in the back and pointed shoulders. Her silver necklace looked like a lily flower that was just about to bloom. Alexis was dressed in her finest, which was name brand and quite stylish twelve years ago when she bought it. Now the shoulder pads were out of style and the fabric was
pilling. She had attacked it with a lint roller for the better part of an hour, but there was only so much rehabilitation that could be done.
“It’s so great that this has happened to you. After so many years of plugging away, you made it back to the spotlight,” Laurie said.
“Oh, come on. I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Alexis said and waved her hand.
“You come on. How many people are reading your interviews? It must be millions. Everyone I know is reading them. It’s like the whole country decided all at once to remember that the Savior of Seattle existed. And that’s all thanks to you.”
“An interview with a has-been isn’t exactly Pulitzer material, but it is nice to get a little recognition. At least people are taking my phone calls again,” Alexis said.
“Maybe you won’t be getting any more awards for your mantle, but you’re still reminding us all how much we have to be grateful to the Savior. By the way, I looked into what you asked me about him. Near as I can tell, he hasn’t asked for a job in the last twenty years. Maybe he was blacklisted at some point, but whatever hurt feelings there were on Ultracorps’ end have long since been forgotten. In fact, you can tell him if he needs any more work he should give me a call. He’s so beloved these days I could use him as a spokesperson in support of house fires and he’d leave the masses hoping to be burnt.”
“I don’t think public relations is really his bag, but speaking of which, how about you? Vice President of PR at Ultracorps. Look at how far you’ve come. Hard to believe I used to send you out to get me coffee.”
“What can I say? It’s better than your average job in a lot of ways. The downside is that I don’t think bars are a place to have fun anymore; they’re a place to have meetings. But I’m getting a little older, so I can live with that.”
