by Drew Hayes
"So I hate to be the buzzkill," Nick said as they huddled around the final can of Sterno. "But what happens if we miss the deadline tomorrow?"
"I don't think they'll let us die, but... I guess maybe we fail?" Alice said uncertainly, her fingers gently rubbing her temples.
"Which entails... what, exactly?" Hershel interjected.
"I think it means we're done," Vince replied somberly. "They're testing us, just like George and Persephone. I imagine failure here has the same result."
"But that's not fair! We've passed all the same standards as everyone else. Why would they hold us some ridiculously higher standard?" Hershel asked.
"Because we're different," Nick replied automatically. "We're not like everyone else, so it makes sense that we have different criteria to fulfill."
"They warned me to expect it when I took them up on the offer to enroll in Lander," Mary agreed.
"Me too," Vince said.
"Ditto," Alice chimed in.
"Roy and me, too," Hershel said, dejectedly. "I just never thought they meant this."
"Wish you hadn't taken the offer for Lander?" Alice asked him.
"Not even a little bit. Yeah, this sucks, but I've had so much fun these last few months. I never knew what it was like to feel normal in any group of people. With Alex and you guys, though, I'm not the freak. I'm just another Super," Hershel admitted.
"There are days I think that's the real reason they gave us the offer," Vince speculated. "They wanted us to have a chance to see what regular Supers felt like, so we could blend in later on."
"Maybe so," Mary agreed.
"Not that it will matter much if we can't finish this mountain tomorrow," Nick pointed out.
"We don't know that," Alice countered.
"But we have excellent grounds to suspect it," Nick shot back.
"Then there's only one option," Vince said, a surprising resolve echoing through his voice. "We don't fail."
The others were silent for a moment. Vince was so cheerful and easygoing that they often let it slip their mind how determined he could be when the occasion demanded it. It could take them back a step.
"I hate to point this out, but you guys realize tomorrow all you'll have is me, right? And I doubt I can climb as fast as Roy," Hershel said.
"Maybe not, but you're fresh," Mary said encouragingly. "Roy's done all the labor, so I bet you can easily keep up with our worn out bodies."
Hershel was about to voice his own lack on surety in just that subject, but the looks on his ragged friends’ faces made him think better of it. Instead he took a cue from Vince and mustered up his resolve.
"I will."
* * *
If the other days were hard, the sixth day was impossible. They had to move fast to make up for lost time, and as such didn't permit themselves as much time for breaks. That strategy showed its downside within the first three hours as sore hands struggled to hold grips and weakening spirits began to falter. Each of them wanted nothing more than to slide down the mountain and collapse into a pile of sweet, exhausted sleep. Instead they kept going up. They halted briefly for lunch and a Vince warm-up, then got right back at it. The day wore on, and as the sun began to descend, hope trickled out of them. If it was dark they were done. The cold and wind made it too dangerous, and that's ignoring the problem of seeing their way without light. With Alice placing hooks there were no free hands to hold flashlights.
Hershel was puffing hard as the shadows grew longer. He hadn't been given several months of intense conditioning; he'd let Roy handle that. The only thing that kept him moving was the knowledge that this was only a sixth of the torture the others had endured. As he cursed under his breath and hoisted himself another few inches, Hershel made two promises to himself. The first was that he was going to start getting himself into passable shape, and the other was that he was going to start carrying a bigger emergency flask of whiskey.
Vince's nose was bleeding freely again, so he tore off a few scraps of cloth, stuffed them in his nostrils, and let it be. At this altitude there was nothing else to be done; the only way out was at the top.
Mary and Nick were holding together okay, though Nick had several close calls and was able to save himself only thanks to his excellent reflexes. Mary was able to press herself close to the rocky surface of the mountain and a few times actually held herself up telepathically so she could rest her aching hands. It was dizzying and dangerous but an assessed risk she deemed to be worth it.
Alice's head was still pounding, but she did her best not to show it. She pulled free some hooks from below her team and flew up higher to reattach them. They were coming up on a cliff that jutted out slightly, blocking the view above. It would be tricky to climb so Alice decided to attach the hooks on the plateau the cliff would be concealing. She floated up past the side, blinked, and moved up several more feet to confirm what she was seeing. When she was absolutely sure she dropped back down and yelled to the others.
"The top! We're almost at the top!" With her news delivered, Alice flew back up to re-secure the hooks.
As for the other four, while weariness and fear can do a lot to drag down the human spirit, suddenly finding out your goal is in sight can kick the shit out of nearly every negative feeling you've got. Such was the case as the cries from their aching muscles and cold bodies were no longer nearly as relevant as the sense of almost being done. They hurled themselves upward with the last of their strength, leaving nothing behind in their quest to finish. Within half an hour the last of them, Hershel, was pulling himself over the side and flopping onto the cold, but level, ground.
They rested for a brief moment before dragging themselves vertical to complete the final task. It was Nick who found the phone, using his power and picking a direction randomly. He pulled the device from the snow and removed its waterproof cover. He glanced at his teammates and waited. Then he stepped forward and handed the phone to Alice.
"Make the call," Nick told her.
"Why me?"
"Because I'd be dead, and none of us would be up here, without you. Now call those bastards and let’s go home," Nick said.
Alice nodded and accepted the phone. She punched a few buttons, and in mere seconds a familiar voice greeted her.
"Hello," Mr. Transport said placidly.
"We did it," Alice said, her voice weary and cracked, but her tone full of pride.
70.
"We should all pitch in, pool our money, and have those two killed," Nick suggested, soaking in the heat and the comfort of the common room couch.
"Nick, I'm right here," Mr. Transport said. All five students had been given a chance to take hot showers and unwind a bit, now they were meeting to talk about the test at Mr. Transport's request.
"I know," Nick said happily, not even bothering to glance at him. "I believe in fair warning."
"Now look, I know it wasn't an enjoyable experience, but it was necessary," Mr. Transport explained. He was met with dark glares and grumbling. "Listen, it's Christmas Eve and I'm sure you all want to get home to your families, so we don't have to talk about this now. Just promise you'll take the rest of the break to really think about what you learned on that mountain. About yourself, about each other, about everything."
"I promise," Mary said, not quite enthusiastically. The others merely nodded in agreement.
"Non-verbal is good enough for me. Whenever you're ready go get your stuff and I'll drop you off at home," Mr. Transport offered.
"Pass," Alice said waving him off. "I'll take my car. I'm only two hours up the road."
"I can take both you and your car in a span of seconds," Mr. Transport pointed out.
"Still no. I just spent six days on a damn mountain, I'm looking forward to a nice, relaxing drive," Alice reiterated.
"Fair enough," Mr. Transport said, putting up his hands. "When anyone else is ready, I'll be waiting in here."
* * *
"Hershel!" Mrs. Daniels yelled, flying out of her house to meet
her son walking up the driveway. "It's been too long, dear," she said, giving him a strong hug.
"I missed you, too, Mom," Hershel managed to squeak out as she squeezed his lungs.
"My, look at you," she said, releasing her death grip and taking a step back. "You must be at least two inches taller than when you left."
"You think?"
"I know my son, don't I? Come on inside. I'll fix up some dinner and afterward we can get the tape measure if you don't believe me."
"Sounds like a plan," Hershel agreed, dragging his bag inside and depositing it by the door. He'd unpack later; for now he was just happy to be home.
The house seemed just as he remembered it, though now there was a Christmas tree by the fireplace. Underneath were several presents, some wrapped in green paper and others wrapped in red. The red would be for Roy, the green for him, same as it had been for years and years. A spicy scent wafted through the house. His mom would be working on several dishes for lunch tomorrow. On Christmas they went to Hershel’s grandmother’s house and met up with the rest of his family. Hershel realized that this was the first year he would be able to enjoy himself at that gathering and not worry about Roy butting in. Still, he might change later in the day. It was Christmas for Roy, too, after all.
"So," his mother said, interrupting Hershel's internal reverie. "Tell me about college. Have you met any nice girls?"
Hershel smiled in spite of himself and went over to the kitchen table. He took a seat in usual spot and basked in the familiarity for a moment before dealing with his mother's question.
"Well, there is this girl in my dorm..."
* * *
Vegas was cold, but that could hardly be blamed on the season. It was a desert: those were hot in the day and cold in the evening. Nick walked up the familiar landscape of the strip and picked out the lighted monstrosity he called home. One good thing about this town: an unaccompanied minor with a suitcase didn't even draw a second glance as he walked into the lobby of a casino/hotel and strode right past the reception desk. Nick would greet everyone soon, but first he wanted to go up to his room and change. He was still dressed as the Lander student, and that wasn't an image that belonged here. His only hope was that the sunglasses and different wardrobe would keep anyone from recognizing him. He should have known better.
Nick made it to the elevators and punched the up button. The elevators were gold in color and the hall was faux marble. It was ostentatious, but with a touch of class, just like the rest of Ms. Pips' establishment. It didn't quite give him a sense of being at home; however, it was an environment he was comfortable in. For Nick, that was more or less the same thing. There was an audible ding as the doors swooshed open and Nick took a step back to accommodate anyone exiting. The elevator turned out to hold only one other occupant, a bald man wearing a dark suit. Nick sighed and stepped on board. He knew perfectly well this man wasn't planning to get off.
"Good to see you, Gerry," Nick said evenly. He would greet his former wrangler more enthusiastically later in the evening. For now, though, there were cameras everywhere and it was a poor habit indeed to start showing fondness to anyone.
"You look good, Campbell," Gerry replied. He leaned forward and punched a few buttons on the pad. The elevator began rising to a floor inaccessible to regular guests. "I wanted to let you know that Ms. Pips is currently overseeing a high-stakes poker game, but she should be on hand for lunch tomorrow."
"They do put on a hell of a spread for Christmas," Nick recalled.
"Of course. We can't have any of our clients regretting their decision to spend the holidays handing us their money," Gerry said. "Anyway, she'll be around tomorrow; tonight you're on your own, though. I had a couple of your suits cleaned and pressed, and I alerted the staff to expect your return."
"I have missed the people," Nick said.
"You've missed the girls," Gerry shot, a bit of slyness in his voice.
"Never as much as they miss me," Nick said with a smile.
The elevator dinged and opened on a plush hallway. The carpet was red and the trim of the walls was gold. There were very few rooms in this hallway because up here the designers hadn't been concerned with cramming in as many as they could fit. This was the level that few would ever see and fewer would ever stay in. Nick stepped off and began heading down to his room. He stopped after a few steps, noting Gerry hadn't exited with him.
"I've got some things to do," Gerry said in response to Nick's glance backward. "If you'd like me to catch you up on things we can meet in the usual place around two."
"Sounds good," Nick agreed. The usual place would be a restaurant a few streets over from the strip where he and Gerry had hamburgers and hung out. It was one of the few places away from Ms. Pips’ direct area of influence, and likely Nick's favorite spot in the world.
Nick swiped a card at the door and entered his suite. Sure enough, Gerry had laid out a couple of suits on the bed. He always remembered every detail, a habit he had worked very hard to ingrain in Nick as well. Still, Nick's first concern wasn't just with changing his clothes. He whipped off his sunglasses and tossed them on a dresser. He then shed the rest of his Lander ensemble and hopped over to the shower. Admittedly he had taken a shower less than an hour before, but that had been all about heat and necessity. This was about re-centering. Nick always found a shower the best tool for wiping away a character and coming back to himself.
Half an hour later Nicholas Campbell emerged. He promptly dressed, wearing a deep purple button-down shirt with no tie beneath a perfectly tailored black suit. He styled his sandy hair with a tussled look and adorned himself with only one piece of jewelry, a silver wristwatch. He frowned slightly when he noticed there were tan lines on his face from those ridiculous glasses and made a mental note to visit a spray bed as soon as possible. All decoration and preparation complete, Nicholas paused only to give the sunglasses a dirty look before striding out the door.
* * *
"You're sure you want me to drop you here?" Mr. Transport asked again, just to be certain.
"Positive," Mary assured him, enjoying the sound of leaves crunching beneath her feet and the sticky smell of pine in the air.
"Don't you want to see your family?"
"I'll see them tomorrow," Mary told him. "I wanted to spend one night at home, though." She was already walking toward her trailer, small bag swinging in hand as she surveyed the spots that could use repair.
"Whatever makes you happy, I suppose. Merry Christmas," Mr. Transport wished her, then was gone.
Mary finished her tour of the trailer, coming back to its entrance and unlocking the door. It was cold inside, but a few minutes after she turned on the generator the whole place would be thoroughly warmed. Besides, in comparison to her past week she could barely classify it as chilly. Mary carefully opened her bag and tenderly removed a small brown bear, setting him on the counter.
"It's good to be home, don't you think, No?"
No was his usual, stoically silent self.
* * *
"So good to have you home, Ms. Adair," the maid said, greeting Alice at the door and taking her bag.
"Thank you, Greta. Tell Francis the rest of my luggage is in the car. Is my father home?"
"He'll be in China until the end of the week," Greta told her. "But he's promised to come home in time to see you before you go back to school."
"Of course he will," Alice sighed, knowing it was fifty/fifty at best that she would see her father during this break. That might have been for the best, though; she wasn't sure what she would say to him. She'd never really had a grasp of what to talk about with him anyway, but at least before she'd known the right steps and decorum. After her semester at Lander, though, she didn't find the prospect as appealing. Alice had slowly been dropping out of the habit of shying away from real interaction and using polite falsities. She was finding she liked the life she led this way far more than the other. Daddy wouldn't approve, though.
Alice made her way u
p the marble staircase to her wing of the house. Most of the servants were off for the holiday, so she'd have the house more or less to herself with the exception of Greta, Francis, a few chefs, and some additional support staff. Normally she preferred it this way: it was less lonely to be actually alone than to be surrounded by people and still be by oneself. As her steps echoed down the empty hallway and she pushed open the oak doors to her pink-themed bedroom, it occurred to that she'd become far more accustomed to the bustle of Melbrook.
Alice laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. There were paintings adorning her walls along with a picture or two of her father. The only real photograph she held dear was on her bedside table, though: a photo of a beautiful blonde woman with an infectious smile. Alice had digital copies of it, of course, but there was still something special about the original. Alice rolled over on her side and stared at the woman for a few minutes, wondering for the billionth time how different this moment in her life would be if that woman were still a part of it. There would be someone waiting for her, certainly. A hug, some conversation, and possibly even a meal prepared out of love rather than obligation. Perhaps Daddy would even be here as well if that woman was around to wrangle him in.
Alice had long ago mastered the art of crying silently, so not one sob echoed through the empty catacombs of her mansion.
* * *
"Thanks again for bringing me out here," Vince said as he and Mr. Transport walked along a snow-covered dirt path.
"I'm not exactly certain where 'here' is. We've walked a good way from the city," Mr. Transport pointed out.
"We're almost there," Vince assured him.
For a few brief moments Mr. Transport thought back to Nick's death threat jokes and wondered just how much Vince had disliked the mountain test. Then he mentally snapped himself back to reality and realized while one of his charges might eventually kill him, Vince was easily the least likely candidate on that list. Well, after Hershel.
