The Nuclear Winter

by Brian Thompson

  The plastic container she handed me had six spicy tuna rolls in it. Our tradition — Chinese food for Thanksgiving. I plucked one and stuffed it into my mouth. The fresh lush velvet with rice and ginger was heaven against my tongue. I ate until the box was empty. I guzzled all the water and asked for a refill. Mom left me and returned with a full cup. Strange. Hunger and thirst were different now. Prior to my illness, I had a list of favorite foods — sushi, pizza, chicken wings,[XW36] and a rice and sausage dish called jagacida my mother rarely cooked. After cancer, I was happy to keep anything down.

  I’d been asleep for a day. “How did you know I’d wake up? The sushi is cold.”

  Mom laughed. “You don’t miss Chinese Thanksgiving.”

  Nope, not even the year we ate a bad batch of Moo Shu pork and threw up nonstop for two days. I couldn’t look at the stuff anymore without remembering the stench of bleach and noodle vomit.

  Mom placed her hand on mine. “Focus.” She sounded insecure. Reluctant. “Focus on what I’m about to say.”

  “No more,” I groaned. “…lies.”

  She nodded. “The truth — is a lot to take in.”

  My desire for answers at this point outweighed my need to be right, so I shut up.

  She fidgeted with a large hole in her slacks. “In 1859, no…wait…that’s boring. Important, but...let me not start that far back.”

  The starting and stopping, well, I wished Mom had a fast-forward sensor on her mouth I could use to get to the good parts. Whatever she had to say was crucial, and there was only one way I was going to get to hear it.

  I couldn’t be myself. “It’s okay,” I whispered.

  “We survived the explosion, Lucy, and I was able to get you fresh sushi because I have — I haven’t used them in a bit — I have special abilities.”

  She didn’t say anything about mouthing questions to her. “What kind?”

  “Watch.”

  Mom reached into the air. My mouth dropped as the distance between her palm and the room’s ceiling grew shorter. She could levitate? Fly? Meanwhile, her other forearm and hand vanished for a second. Good thing my voice had crapped out. Otherwise, as Mom descended and reappeared, she would’ve heard every curse word I could think of.

  At the end of it, I asked the most important follow-up question known to man. How?

  Solar flares, a radioactive mineral called beryl, and AB negative blood with a rare antigen were the answers. What? Wait! Did I have the antigen? I pointed to her and demanded to know the truth. Mom shook her head and the air escaped my lungs. “Less than a thousand people on earth have it,” she told me. “I never had you tested.”

  Right, because with Death knocking on my door, what good would a superpower do? My mother had them. Assuming my father did, wouldn’t my blood have this antigen, too, although it was type-O positive?

  Determination must have shone through my facial expressions. “Even with the antigen, there isn’t any beryl left from the solar storms to give you powers.”

  Of course. The girl dying of bone cancer can’t catch a break there, either. Solar flares? And what is beryl? “Where’s yours? The beryl.”

  “Blood transfusion. I don’t need to wear one. Beryl’s a gem. All goes back to 1859 — Carrington solar storm. The part that’ll bore you.”

  Considering what I’d just witnessed, what could she say at this point that I wouldn’t listen to like my life depended on it? Blood antigens, invisibility, floating — it made more sense than the buttoned-down, uptight, plain oatmeal personality I thought she had all these years. With the retro hardcore rock music she listened to, and the way she slung curse words around, I knew there had to be a wild animal stirring deep down inside her.

  I’d say the moments afterward, the laughs and the memories we shared, were awkward. They weren’t. They were comfortable, like we were old friends. I didn’t prod or push her to share anything, but her confession rolled down like an avalanche,[XW37] and I couldn’t keep up with all the details. Solar flares, colors of beryl, powers, deadly enemies and friends — she hadn’t told any of this to another soul in fourteen years. I listened the best I could. It was the one thing I had the strength to accomplish by myself. When the sun dropped below the horizon, the bedroom we’d been in got progressively darker. Mom didn’t seem to mind the blackening atmosphere, and without a light or lit candle, soon we wouldn’t be able to see one another.

  She ended our conversation with an odd request. “Can you walk?”

  Was she kidding? My limbs were lead. “Where to?”

  “We need to leave. This cabin was abandoned, and we’re — ”

  “Squatters?”

  “The place wasn’t up for rent. We’re not safe anymore.”

  I’d been sitting so long that the lower half of my body had gone pins and needles on me. The threat of imminent danger did nothing to motivate me out of the bed. On a pitch-black mountain or under cotton sheets, Death would’ve found me soon enough. “Can we wait until morning?” I asked her. “Just a few hours. Then, I’ll be good to go.”

  It was like she’d forgotten how rapidly spreading bone cancer sapped my energy levels. Mom rested her chin on her hand. “Okay. A couple hours.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. Mom was with me. I rested easy.

  Pressure at my shoulders woke me out of a deep sleep. Mom was shaking me, and, though I couldn’t see, her tense grip informed me not to speak. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and tapped my feet on the hardwood floor. Eventually, I located what remained of my shoes. There was sole, a little fabric, and shoelace. Not much else. But, being barefoot in the Pennsylvania mountains wasn’t an option. My heart raced. What was happening? Mom’s fingers wandered down my elbow and clutched my hand. Who was sweating worse, me or her?

  The floor creaked beneath heavy footsteps, two or three sets. From the size of this room, I imagined the cabin was small, and we’d soon be found out. Mom could turn herself invisible, which could help her escape, but what about me? I had to be worth something to her alive. Otherwise, she’d have left me in the jet to die or here to be caught by whomever. I’d do whatever I had to do to survive past this moment and find my father.

  I watched the bedroom door and expected it to burst into flames or fold onto itself. It did neither. I held my breath, and Mom squeezed my fingers. I looked at my body and saw nothing. She’d turned me invisible. The door swung open, and right when I thought I’d get a peek at who was behind it, I found myself standing next to a tree and freezing. My sweatshirt was hoodless and tattered. Damp weeds slapped their moisture onto my legs as my mother dragged me through the woods. “I need your help,” she said.

  What? My help?

  The two of us stumbled over a slick group of rocks and landed flat on our backs. The bed of wet leaves did little to cushion our fall. I groaned and rolled to a sitting position. Rubbing my sore ankle would not keep it from throbbing, but I massaged it anyway.

  Mom brushed off her slacks and stood. “There’s no outrunning them. We’ll have to fight.”

  What did that mean? We? I couldn’t fly, turn invisible, or pass through solid objects. Or could I? I reached my hands forward and shook them like something would blast out of my fingers. What could I do? “You said I didn’t have powers.”

  “No, I said I never had you tested. The antigen and the radioactivity may be in your blood.”

  That was a truth I could’ve used. Say I had powers. How did I use them?

  “Get up. Let’s keep moving.”

  But she said we couldn’t outrun them! She obviously could not do it alone. We had to fight.

  Her eyes darted back and forth with panic. I was right. For some reason, she wouldn’t let me do anything. I wobbled after her, thinking the stubborn attitude might break. She’d change her mind and teach me how to access my ability, whatever it was. By the time we’d reach the small clearing what felt like half a football field away, my hope had dissolved to nothing. Win or lose, I’d have no part in the o
utcome. Had we done the impossible and outrun them?

  “Can you feel that?”

  What, the bugs?

  She waved her hands. “The heat. Electricity in the air. They’re here.”

  For the third time in the last few days, someone or something might kill me. Great. The threat of death robbed me of words and conscious thought. Fight or flight was all I had. I’d have run a marathon if it would’ve saved my life. But if my mother could float in air, turn invisible, and pass through solid objects, what could these people do to me? The possibilities…oh God! I was going to die.

  With her hands locked on my arms, Mom shook me. “Listen to me. Think of the most powerful emotion you have, whatever gets your adrenaline moving…”

  Killer clowns, darkness, rabid animals with gory fangs, extreme heights, betrayal, dying alone and unloved — every fear I’d ever had or gotten over bubbled up to my mind’s surface. Any second now an Ordnance shot would pierce my anxious body and relieve me of this constant stress.

  I had cotton mouth, my body temperature was blazing hot, and my heart thumped so badly I checked my left arm for feeling. Mom looked into my eyes and seemed to approve my condition.

  “Project it.”

  Good advice for someone who could think straight. “Okay. Then what?” I waited for an answer and heard nothing though I called out her name. I felt a presence behind me — a definitive evil.

  The edges of a sharp blade stuck on the right side of my neck and made a straight line to the other side. I should be dead in seconds. Choking on reflex, I clutched around the wound. What did death by a slashed throat feel like? A shock of pain, the rush of blood, gasps for air? None of that happened. No blood had passed over my fingers, and I stopped gagging. My neck was fine. Unmarked. The blade hadn’t touched me. Matter of fact, it had passed through me.

  Yet another thing beyond what I could’ve thought was possible. I’d inherited Mom’s powers after all! He jabbed an Ordnance through my intangible back and fired his weapon. The shot passed through me and entered the darkness. He didn’t get another chance to kill me. His body weight slumped to the ground.

  Mom’s words replayed in my mind. “Get it in your mind and project it.” I had a hot stirring in my belly, but when I knelt and jumped, my feet barely left the ground. I did the next best thing to fighting and ran for cover behind a thick-trunked tree. All the action took place where I couldn’t see it, so I leaned on my ears. Blows crashed into body parts, grunts, snapping branches or bones, and body weight hitting the grass — one after the other — and then quiet.

  “Lucy!”

  The shrill whisper of Mom’s voice startled me. I stepped out and came face to face [XW38]with Moses! Aside from his missing sport coat and tie, he appeared the same. Unharmed. He drew his weapon from behind his back and fired twice over my shoulder. My insides tensed. I didn’t dare turn around to check his target. Apparently, he had good aim, because another body dropped. I didn’t get it. What gives? Wasn’t he trying to kill us a few days ago?

  In this instance, her voice was a warning. “Turn around. Slowly.”

  Hands in the air, Moses did as she said. “Your transfer didn’t process. You knew that already, didn’t you?”

  “Bank flags large, over-the-phone transfers for voice authorization.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. “Yeah. Well, your mistake looked like an inside job. Which it would’ve been, and a successful one, had the units transferred. Instead, you get to keep your money, and my custom jet gets blown out of the sky.”

  Which raised questions I had to ask. “How did whoever know? How did you survive?”

  “People like us can be particularly difficult to kill,” Moses said. “By the way, unless they find our dead bodies among these, they’ll keep coming.”

  Good to know. Mom wasn’t convinced, though. “It took you fourteen years to find us. I could kill you here, and we’ll go into hiding.”

  I’d never considered my mother to be a murderer, and her threats were mostly harmless. Here, surrounded by unmoving bodies, I had to believe that person, the one who couldn’t bake cookies without burning them, didn’t exist anymore. Elayna Maria Sandoval was dead, the way I’d come to know her, at least, and I didn’t have the time or space to mourn her. She’d never be the strict mother or the “mom/friend” either. I’d have to settle for this highly-trained, superpowered assassin and hope her pancakes were as good as Elayna’s.

  Moses’ hearty laughing made me want to punch him in the face. He stopped laughing long enough to recite our social security and holophone numbers, and bank account amounts. Man, Mom was super rich. To add insult to injury, he listed our body measurements and how much we weighed to the pound. I couldn’t believe it. He ended with “Tell me. How are you going to access your money without dermal lotion? The little bit Lucy has saved won’t get you cross-country, and the second she uses her handprint to access her account, you’ll be discovered.”

  Mom licked her lips, like she wanted to face the challenge. “We’ll fight.”

  “You’ll lose. You need me. And, as I understand it, she’s on somewhat of a tight schedule. Promise me the four million, and I’ll deliver you to him alive. We don’t make it, and I get nothing.”

  An interesting point. A battle inside me raged between believing him, the double-crosser I’d known for a half hour minus a plane explosion, and going with my mother, who had lied to me my entire life. Why would he bet everything with no leverage, another double-cross? Would his boss give him more for bringing me and Mom to their doorstep? After witnessing what she was capable of, I could see why they might want her, but why me? I wasn’t special at all.

  Part of me wanted to call the whole thing crap and walk away from them both. Dying alone scared me, but I could rely on myself and the malformed cells in my body to do the job. Moses and my mother didn’t have to do anything. I could die right here by myself without help. My thoughts were a mess, and the truth was,[XW39] I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t trust either of them.

  Fortunately, Mom wasn’t searching for input. She extended her right hand.

  CHAPTER SIX

  What? They had a deal? How had the last weeks of my life been decided by two people I largely distrusted and in less than ten sentences? I wasn’t going for it. Nope. Absolutely not. They could be a happy couple, jet across the country together, and rendezvous with my father. He didn’t know I was alive, breathing. And a month from now, I’d be worm food. Not like he could regret what he never had, could he? He wouldn’t miss me.

  Nobody would.

  This is what adults did to me. They argued topics of enormous consequence to my life and never involved me in the conversation. I watched them do it. Mom and Dr. Keller had figured out the best treatment plan, like what was the most likely to simultaneously kill the cancer and keep me alive. She and my counselor discussed how I could recover my missing credits before my catheter got removed, and today’s subject was how to escape whoever was after us.

  “Call in and buy us some time with him,” she told him.

  He beat his fist into his chest. “I’m not the point man. You broke his neck back there.”

  “Do it,” she said. “Lie. BS your way through. Just give an excuse and sell it.”

  Moses left us, mumbling about women and their ways and whether it was worth four million freaking units to deal with my mother and her impossible demands. Once he turned his back and walked beyond earshot, she pulled an ink pen-shaped object from her pocket and clicked it on. She slowly circled around until the thing let out three high-pitched beeps and displayed a holographic set of coordinates. She disengaged the device before I could memorize the rest. I tried to sound disinterested when I asked her, “What’s there?”

  “A mountain that way” — she pointed beyond a range in the distance — “and [XW40]my bag. Or what’s left of it. It shouldn’t take me long.”

  What was so important in her luggage? No time to press her further, be
cause Moses wouldn’t be on a call forever, and she intended to leave me alone with him — and the corpses littered around the clearing — to get it. Waving at my mouth didn’t help the words come out faster. Neither did gulping down air. Being in an above-ground graveyard made my skin crawl, and I couldn’t unzip it and step out. Dealing with dizziness and the stabbing tremors in my limbs was one thing, but to do so alone, for however long, would be torture. I wanted her to hold my hands and squeeze the terror out of me. She would if I asked, but I wasn’t going to ask. Those same hands had snapped the necks of a half dozen people and had blood on them. On the flip side, she was completely capable to protect me.

  I pleaded with her. “Take me with you.”

  “I’m not strong enough yet. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  My mother leapt into the sky and flew away. She. Flew. Away. What alternate reality had I stepped into where my mother was a holo game character? I tracked her movement until the darkness became too thick. Moses was busy feeding his superior a lie to keep him in the dark. I forced myself to approach the nearest dead guy. After kicking his Ordnance away from his dead hand, I picked it up and ran downhill as fast as I could without falling. The branches I couldn’t push aside smacked cold dew and leaves into my skin. Putting enough distance between me and whatever was going on back at the clearing was my goal. Eventually, I’d end up at a road where I could hitch a ride back to my house and live out the rest of my days in pain and safety.

  The hot stabbing in my side forced me to stop. How long had I been running? I turned my head over my shoulder to see just how far I’d gone, and I blinked away sweat dripping down my brow. The next thing I knew, I was at the clearing standing next to Moses without the Ordnance. What was that smell like rotten eggs? Had I blinked myself back to where I’d started?