by Jaz Primo
“Communications will fail, including Internet, cellular, and landlines,” she hastily continued. “The backlash through the grids will be catastrophic, maybe taking years to fully recover from.”
“Feel like trying to be Superman?” Sanders asked with a pleading expression in her eyes. “It really couldn’t hurt.”
As I stared back at Sanders, I felt like I was floating in place, as if my soul had momentarily departed my body.
A moment later, I felt whole again, and just plain angry.
“Son of a bitch,” I said, stepping up to the device. “Everybody step back. In fact, I’d feel even better if you all just went outside.”
“Conway was right. Looks like the world really is going to change,” Rain said, staring at the device.
I gave him a hard look.
“Not if I can help it,” I said.
“Bringer,” Sanders prompted. “Can’t you just drain it or something? Maybe something like you did with the electricity in Seattle.”
I frowned. “Drain it?”
Actually, that seemed like a pretty sound idea.
“Way to go, Sanders,” I said, looking sidelong at her. “Now, haul your pretty ass and the rest of our team out of here.”
She nodded. “Everyone outside,” she ordered.
Concentrating on the bomb before me, I reached out to touch its cold metal skin and used my talent to try pulling power from it. A steady thrum of tingling coursed over and through my body.
Pulling energy from the weapon was a slow, laborious process, and one that hardly felt like it was yielding viable results. Yet my body’s temperature began to steadily climb, as if I were standing directly beside a fireplace.
Before long, I felt as if I was going to burst into flame, so I stopped.
Siphoning its energy wasn’t the answer. But maybe the opposite was.
“Bringer, please don’t get yourself killed,” Sanders whispered in my ear.
Her voice made me lurch. I thought she had gone already.
“We need you. I need—” she added.
I turned my head, our noses nearly touching. Her eyes filled with emotion.
I wanted to open my mind to her thoughts, but somehow I didn’t dare.
There was no time.
“Hey,” I said. “See you soon. Now, get outta here.”
She nodded, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she turned and ran for the exit.
Good girl.
Refocusing my efforts, I generated a shield and began drawing electricity from any nearby receptacles, and then reversing the energy flow around and into the device as fast as I could.
My skin felt tingly at first, and then itchy like ants were crawling all over it. I increased my shield and tried to imagine energy dancing across it.
Soon, my skin merely felt tingly again, if not slightly warmer.
My telekinetic senses reached out, gathering energy from somewhere in the ground deep beneath me. I drew it up toward me and then channeled it across my shield, through the device.
Fleetingly, I hoped Sanders would somehow be far enough away if my new approach failed, though that seemed dubiously hopeful given Holt’s prognosis.
As I poured energy from around my body into the device, I imagined a raging river washing water down a narrow creek bed.
Energized emanations from the device felt as they were accelerating in time with my efforts.
Was I merely giving it more energy for its reaction?
I wished that I knew way more about what the hell I was trying to do.
Once in, all in.
With one effort, just like inhaling a deep breath, I drew additional electrical energy from the environment around me and funneled it directly into the weapon.
Something inside the bomb surged, and I instantly wrapped my shield around it, like an eggshell.
Something both intensely hot and bright exploded before me as I tightly squeezed my eyes shut.
It felt as if every nerve in my body ripped apart, even as my blood boiled and my brain burned.
Then darkness overwhelmed me.
* * *
I awoke abruptly and my body jerked as if a truck had impacted it. Then I felt my back grow cooler and my ears rang with a high-pitched sound.
I opened my eyes and inhaled as stale-tasting air flooded into my lungs.
All I saw was darkness.
Then I realized that I was lying on my back on the concrete floor. Every muscle in my body protested as I rolled onto my stomach and tried to rise from my place on the floor. A wave of nausea washed over me as throbbing pain ratcheted my brain.
As I slowly, achingly, rose to my knees, my nose felt ticklish. I reached up and felt thick warm moisture on my fingertips.
My nose was bleeding.
Once again, I had forced my mind and body to do too much.
How much longer could I keep doing that before I was out of commission for good?
Maria was probably going to kill me.
No need; I’m doing a pretty good job of that all by myself.
I projected my senses toward the EMP weapon and stumbled forward in the darkness until my palms fell against it cold metal skin.
As I probed at it, it felt empty inside; devoid either of power or activity.
With effort, I conjured a small fireball in the palm of my hand and looked at the device.
Its outer shell and casing appeared intact, and it felt cool. The LED display was dark.
That’s when I let out the deep breath that I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Perhaps the building’s electrical power was the only casualty. At least, I hoped that was all.
I used the reddish-yellow illumination from my waning fireball to make my way toward the nearest building exit, extinguishing the flames as I walked outside, appreciating the feeling of cool night air against my face.
My vision blurred, so I squinted my eyes as I stepped away from the building, waiting for my vision to clear.
The throbbing pain in my head abated slightly.
I thought that I heard the distant sound of a helicopter, and I made my way around to the front of the building.
“Sanders?” I called out. “It’s over.”
Someone hollered, “Woo-hoo!”
“Hell, yeah!” Rain shouted.
I heard someone running and then caught sight of Sanders as she leapt atop me, her arms wrapped around me.
We both fell to the ground together.
“You did it, Bringer!” she yelled. “I knew you could. I just knew it.”
“Yeah, just lucky I—”
She planted the biggest kiss of my life on me and, aching body be damned, I was only too happy to return the gesture.
Chapter 26
After Holt reported the all clear, federal and state authorities rushed in alongside military forces to take control of the site.
“I don’t know how you did it, but thank you,” Holt said, shaking my hand. “It’s an honor to serve alongside you.”
She remained onsite with the remainder of our team as Sanders and I boarded an extraction chopper bound for Robins Air Force Base in Atlanta.
Onboard, Sanders sat beside me, but neither of us said anything to each other. It was all either of us needed, I suppose.
Sometime during the ride, I dozed off.
Once at the base, we were put up in guest quarters for the night. Within the hour, our go-bags were retrieved from our tactical vehicles, hauled in via chopper, and delivered to our rooms, courtesy of the FBI.
The next morning, Sanders and I ate a quick breakfast together in the mess hall, though neither of us mentioned the post-tension kiss that we had shared.
In truth, I was afraid to jinx it, and nervous that she might have discounted it as nothing more than a spontaneous burst of relief.
I didn’t feel that way about it then, and I felt even more strongly about it upon reflection.
After breakfast, we used a conference room in the base’s head
quarters building to teleconference with Wainright, Tevin, and Denton.
I let Sanders do the honors of explaining everything, right up to my lone efforts with the EMP weapon.
“It pales to merely say, well done, Bringer,” Tevin said. “But, really, how did you manage to disable the device?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled. Sanders stared at me with a curious expression, though I’m not sure I could do my deeds the sort of justice of description that it deserved.
“Sanders suggested the idea that I try to short circuit it,” I said. “Actually, it sort of worked.”
“Sort of?” Sanders asked with a frown.
“Yeah, I think it still went off, though,” I said. “But it must’ve been less powerful by then, because I was able to contain it within my shields. Though at the time I thought it had burned me to a cinder. That’s about the time I blacked out.”
Sanders gave me a wide-eyed look. “You didn’t mention—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “We haven’t had time to talk about that yet.”
She gave me a meaningful look. “That’s something I would have thought you’d make time for.”
I returned her look in kind. “There’s a couple of topics to make time for.”
Her eyes widened and she quickly looked away at the wall-mounted monitor before us.
“Bringer, as for the EMP,” Tevin said. “Do you think you actually contained the full blast from the device?”
I frowned. “Maybe…maybe not. I can’t say for certain. It was, after all, a first-time for me.”
“And, hopefully, a last time,” Sanders said.
“It felt…more powerful than anything I’ve ever sensed before,” I said.
My memory of it was still so vivid that I almost thought I felt my temperature begin to rise again. I felt like I was in a trance and my skin started to itch.
The lights momentarily flickered and the screen blinked.
“Bringer,” Sanders said.
I snapped back to the present and my mind cleared. My skin tingled and I rubbed my palms against the fabric of my pants.
Sanders looked at me. “Did you just—”
“Bringer?” Wainright asked. “There was a fluctuation in our signal for a moment there.”
I looked at Tevin’s tense facial expression on the screen.
“Bringer, do you think you could recreate that effect if you had to?” Tevin asked.
“Huh?” I asked.
Sanders reached out to touch my right hand, still perched atop my thigh.
“Never mind. Don’t think about it too much, okay?” she asked.
“Yep. Better forgotten,” I agreed with a nod.
“So, again, well done, Bringer,” Wainright said. “I’m not sure if the military brass are going to want to ask you about that or not, but—”
“Maybe my memory won’t be so good if they do,” I offered.
“Good answer,” Tevin said.
A previous topic quickly resurfaced in my mind.
“Of course, now that we’ve dealt with one potentially lethal bomb, we all really should talk about the other,” I said.
“The other?” Denton asked. “I thought there was only one device missing.”
The look of recognition on Sander’s face was priceless.
“Senator Conway,” she said. “And his little chit-chat with Bringer.”
“Chit-chat?” Wainright asked.
“Bringer and Conway had a—let’s call it highly unusual—conversation outside as they awaited his helicopter extraction,” Sanders replied. “The entire team overheard what was said over the tactical comm system.”
“Really?” Tevin asked. “Was it one of those conversations that could prove dangerous for those with loose lips?”
“Precisely, and I think that most of the team already feels that way about it, as well,” Sanders said.
I shook my head. “Guys, Conway’s one chirp away from being a cuckoo clock.”
“Bringer, I was going to say you have such a way with words, but in this case, I have to agree with you,” Sanders said. “I thought something was odd when I asked him what his captors expected from him, and he replied, ‘nothing.’ That’s strange on its own, let alone that his captors were likely affiliated with the Continuance Corporation.”
“So, you had a peculiar conversation with him under tense circumstances,” Wainright said. “Maybe it was just the stress he was under at the time. We can’t build a case on something that was said off-handedly like that.”
“No, Sanders is right. Conway seemed far too at ease with what had happened to him. And it wasn’t just what he said,” I noted. “I picked up some of his thoughts while standing beside him.”
I repeated most of them for the group’s consideration.
“Damn,” Wainright said.
“Admittedly, those raise numerous red flags, Bringer,” Tevin said.
“Yeah, but what are we supposed to do about it?” Denton asked. “So, maybe it sounds as if he’s got some grand plan in mind. Not only are thoughts not admissible as evidence, but Conway’s also more than just influential. He’s powerful, with a wide reach. With someone as well-placed as him, lesser opponents might get squashed underfoot like bugs.”
Sanders nodded. “Denton’s right about that.”
I glanced at her, but she immediately looked away from me.
“You’re suggesting that we should just let him carry on unabated?” I asked.
“I think the suggestion is that we proceed cautiously moving forward,” Tevin said. “That’s sensible even under the best of circumstances, and particularly where high-level politics are concerned.”
I thought about the words that Conway had used, as well as the thoughts that I intercepted from him.
“He kept alluding to the world changing,” I said. “Starting today, in fact.”
Sanders looked sharply at me. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“The PEP rally might be pivotal for both him and the Freedom Party,” Denton said. “If it’s successful, they’re well-positioned to secure contested Congressional positions during the mid-term elections.”
“Something else still bothers me. Why was Conway abducted and then taken to a remote location outside of Atlanta?” I asked. “More so, why hide an EMP weapon there with him where there are no major targets in the vicinity?”
“Both equally good questions,” Sanders said.
“I dunno,” Denton said. “Maybe they couldn’t get the EMP device anywhere near someplace more critical. I mean, places like Washington, D.C. or New York are high-visibility areas.”
“Yeah, but the person who stole the weapon seems to be able to teleport in and out where he wants,” I said. “What’s to limit him to Hawkinsville, Georgia?”
“That’s a damned good point,” Sanders said with a nod.
“The intelligence guys at NSA have started calling him The Teleporter,” Tevin said.
“Just great. Now we’re giving the bad guys cool nicknames,” I said.
“I hear yours is Superman,” Tevin said.
I tried not to grin.
“I think I like Captain JFM better,” said Denton.
I’d almost forgotten about that one: JFM for Just Freakin’ Magic.
“Wait just a minute, guys. What if the idea wasn’t to disrupt but to distract instead?” Sanders asked.
“Distract?” Wainright asked. “Distract who?”
Then a sordid thought occurred to me.
“Denton, a moment ago, you said something about the Freedom Party running away with the next election,” I said.
“Yeah, so?” he asked.
“That’s especially true if there’s no more competition,” I said.
“What?” Tevin asked. “What do you mean by that?”
Sanders looked at me as if lightning had struck her.
“What if it’s not about the PEP rally,” she suggested. “What if it’s today’s caucus at the Capitol with those opposing th
e Freedom Party.”
“That’s a big hypothesis that could have disastrous political consequences for everyone if we’re wrong. It’s already like tap-dancing in a minefield around here as it is,” Wainright said. “And don’t think your brownie points for retrieving Senator Conway and thwarting an EMP explosion would save you from the fallout over a major misstep like that, either.”
“Last night, I picked up on a distinct thought from Conway,” I said. “It was, ‘soon there’ll be no other sides to choose from.’ What if all of it was to distract everyone from the real target?”
Sanders expression darkened. “What if someone’s going to attack the caucus of moderates? The Vice President’s also supposed to attend.”
“Guys, either you’re geniuses at drawing up conspiracy theories, or the world’s about to go to hell today,” Denton said.
“The caucus begins in a little over an hour,” Tevin said.
“We can mobilize extra security for them,” Wainright offered.
“Paul’s there,” I said, feeling nearly dumbfounded over the thought of my friend’s life being in danger. He had already nearly lost his life in Nevis Corners trying to help me.
“We’ve got to get back to D.C. right now,” I said.
“Bringer, it’s going to take you hours to get a flight and make it back here.”
An idea struck me. “We’re already on an air base. And I’m sure they have fast planes parked around here some place.”
* * *
Tevin pulled some NSA strings with the base commander, and before I knew it, Sanders and I were outfitted with flight suits.
And I was correct about fast planes, though I didn’t realize it at the time. Robins Air Force Base hosted a squadron of the military’s newest and fastest stealth interceptor aircraft, the Ghost Eagle.
The circumstances were even better than I could’ve imagined.
“You look good in a flight suit, Sanders,” I complimented.
“And you look like a kid at Christmas,” she said. “Try not to drool into your oxygen mask.”
As they were two-seater fighter jets, we were flown in separate planes, each seated in a copilot’s seat, located directly behind the pilot.
