Her promise caused the followers to erupt in cheers once more. Disgusted at how easily people could be led by nothing more than a tabloid reporter, and moreover, shocked at the video, Paul asked, “Is this for real? The video, I mean.”
“It’s real enough,” Stander replied. His mouth set in a grim line. “We tried to trace the signal, but they’ve blocked it somehow. Peterson and his gang are smart. They’re one step ahead of us, and we can’t get a lock on their position.
“As for their demands, they want the entire western seaboard as their base. That means all of California, Oregon and Washington State. And they want their capital to be here, in New York.”
“Crap,” Paul muttered, not believing it yet compelled to watch.
“And what are the police going to do about it when these monsters come to this city—our city?” Lacy uttered, as she turned to the group which was now moving restlessly. “Your city!”
“Nothing,” they chanted.
She pivoted around to face the camera. “That’s right. Nothing,” she declared. “It’s time the people took the power back, took it into their own hands.”
Ooze switched off the broadcast. “This is something we do not need right now,” Stander said. “That woman is a menace, plain and simple.”
“I’m going to agree with you,” Angela said. “So what’s the plan?”
Stander took out his cell phone and excused himself to make a private call. “He’s off to save the world again,” Ooze murmured, once he was out of earshot. Turning to Paul, he asked, “How do you feel?”
For a moment, Paul couldn’t believe the idiocy of the question. Everything he was, everything he’d been—it had all been taken away in a single stroke. “How am I supposed to feel?” he shot back. “I’m like I was—useless.”
“Not to me,” Angela replied, gently sliding her arm around his shoulder. “I liked you before the transformation, and you’re still mine.”
He wondered how long that would last. As a hybrid, the strength and the speed, the ability to do things… It had all been so cool at first. He and Angela were compatible in almost every way, able to keep up with each other and outdo each other on occasion.
As for the ability thing, it had all been so…godlike. Yes, admitting the truth in the farthest recesses of his mind, Paul acknowledged that it had been godlike. How many other people could run zero to sixty in only four seconds, climb buildings by merely holding on and possessed the strength of five strong men? No one, not even the genetic wonders out there juiced to the max on steroids and growth hormone. It took the loss of his superpowers to make him realize what Peterson had been driving at.
At the same time, he’d never thought of being better than anyone else or founding his own nation. He’d never stooped to murder, although he had killed in self-defense and often wondered if he’d done the right thing. In the end, he decided that he’d be judged by everyone long after his crime-fighting days were over. Rationalizing it all, he told himself he’d never become the monsters he’d set out to stop.
Now, a terrible sense of emptiness coupled with depression hit him and hit hard.
“What I’m getting at,” Ooze said, “is there may be a chance for you, if you’re healthy. I have to take some samples first, and I need some equipment. What we’ve got here isn’t going to cut it.”
With those words, hope sparked in Paul’s soul. “Are you saying you can build a chamber?”
“I did it before, remember? We reconstituted CF.” He tapped his head. “I got a lot of knowledge, and it’s aching to be used.”
Quill, who’d been watching the news and not saying anything, spoke up. “Does that mean you could change me, too? I mean…change me back to being a girl?”
“If I work it right, yes,” he answered. “But I need the chambers first.”
A throat-clearing noise interrupted the proceedings. Everyone turned their heads toward Stander. “If you’re going to play mad doctor, then you’ll need my help.”
He strode over, putting his phone away in his pocket. “I just got off the line with Washington. Since they’ve already called out the National Guard, they’re going to mobilize the army.”
No one said anything for a moment, but Paul knew the score. No doubt the armed forces were good. They had the weapons and the training, but against a fast-moving, expendable, and infinitely renewable-resource enemy, they might not fare so well. Additionally, having the armed forces occupy every city was impossible. There simply weren’t enough soldiers. “So you’re going to walk into every city and guard it against the bad guys?” asked Paul.
“That’s the plan.”
“Bad idea,” said Ooze, shaking his head. “You can’t guard against something like this.” He tapped his computer. “I’ve been running some scenarios, matching up the numbers of the armed forces against what Peterson can muster up against you.”
Stander’s tone was skeptical. “And?”
“You’ll lose.”
“Prove it,” Stander said in a defiant manner, thrusting his chest forward. “Our forces have the training and the capability.”
Ooze’s expression verged on the smug. It was as if he was aching to bring up the debacle in Omaha again, but instead of verbally refuting Stander, he touched his oversized finger to a button on the computer. The screen lit up, showing a large number of blue dots in various sections of the country.
“Numbers are numbers, colonel. They’re the best way to show how a war of attrition would work. As of today, there are approximately one million, four-hundred thousand active personnel, and that’s in all branches of the armed forces, male as well as female. They’re indicated by the blue dots.”
He tapped another button and more green dots appeared. “These greenies indicate roughly nine hundred thousand reserve soldiers, both male and female. That’s assuming all personnel are on deck, ready to fight.”
With another touch on a different button, a series of red dots too numerous to count popped up all over the country. “These represent the potential for the enemy to put up against us, and that’s assuming the number of research labs run by Peterson are in operation.”
“They are,” Paul put in, rousing himself from his pity party. “Peterson didn’t tell me the whole story, but he did say he’s got a lot of research labs operating, and he can make a whole new batch of soldiers in a few minutes. If one of your guys gets shot, can you make a new one?”
He hadn’t intended to sound so sarcastic, but Stander didn’t seem to take offense. Instead, he sat down as if in shock and ran his hand through his sparse hair. “We can mobilize at least seventy more million civilians—”
“And they’ll die, just like the soldiers will,” Angela put in. Her expression severe, she pointed at the computer. “He’s giving you the facts. You’d better listen.”
Stander licked his lips and his gaze flickered between her face and the screen. For the first time since they’d met, he seemed indecisive. “Can I assume you’ve got a better plan?”
The numbers of the enemy could increase at any moment, and Paul had no doubt the enemy leader was amassing an army as they spoke. He didn’t have any choice. “I have a better plan, yeah, but we need a chamber.”
Stander’s voice sounded incredulous. “You’re kidding me.”
“No, this is for real,” Ooze chimed in, but he added, “There’s another problem. I can build a chamber from scratch, but that’s going to take some time—at least a month. We don’t have a month.”
“Could you repair one?” asked Paul.
“If you can find one, I can repair it.” Ooze glanced at Stander, who had his cellphone out, and a curious expression formed on his face. “Let me guess—you got a number of them on some base somewhere.”
Stander nodded. “When the federal authorities took down Peterson’s holdings, we found a number of chambers, all inoperable, but
you’re welcome to work with them. Call it the spoils of war.”
His answer didn’t faze Ooze in the least, as he asked, “How many have you got?”
“Enough to get the job done.”
Chapter Ten
Onslaught
Stander immediately made the necessary calls. After hanging up, he said, “Our transportation will be here shortly. Ooze, you’re coming with me. Once we get to where we’re going, anything you want, just ask for it.”
Paul immediately became suspicious. “And what were you going to do with those chambers?”
The answer came out right away, and the naked honesty of it also came as a surprise. “We initially had ideas of using it, but considering the potential for abuse—the kind of abuse our enemy has already demonstrated—the order came from the top to keep them on ice. No research. No research…until now.”
He started to walk to the door. “Do you mind telling us your destination or are we out of the loop?” Angela asked.
Her question stopped him in his tracks. “You’ve got as much right to be in on this. We’ve kept them all in an army storage unit near Reno, Nevada. It’s at Reno Airport.”
Keeping them in such an open place seemed like a recipe for disaster. “They’re out in the open,” Paul said. “Why would you keep them at an airport?”
“It was originally a flight training base for the military,” Stander replied, “but it was closed over fifty years ago, and the military sold the land to private concerns. However, when the armed forces took possession of the chambers, they wanted one place where no one would look. That was it. We’re in building number seventy-three. If you can make it out there, we’ll be waiting.”
The sound of a truck pulling up roused everyone’s attention. “That’s our ride,” Stander said and motioned to the exit. “Ooze, we’re counting on you.”
Angela accompanied them on the pretext of keeping watch for the enemy. Once the door closed, Paul hoped the impossible could be achieved. In the meantime, they had to be on guard against any possible attack, and he wondered if his girlfriend and their latest addition would be ready.
As if reading his mind, Quill walked over, a look of curiosity on her face. “Hey, since you’re normal now, what are you going to do?”
“I have to visit someone.”
****
Slipping out the back exit, he hailed a cab. The driver looked up from his clipboard, startled. “Yeah, I need a ride,” Paul said, weary of every look of surprise he’d gotten. He did not need the extra BS now. “St. Hilda’s Memorial Grounds… Floor it.”
The driver took off, and they reached the grounds just before three. The taxi driver said not a word during the ride over, although he’d thrown a few curious glances in the rearview mirror from time to time.
After paying him, Paul walked into the director’s office and got the plot number. For once, the person in charge didn’t toss him a look of shock or awe, but he did hesitate. “I need to see where Max is,” Paul insisted.
“I’ll show you.”
A priest, middle-aged, heavy around the middle, with a head of snowy white hair and a quiet manner, introduced himself as Father Michaels. “I knew Max,” he murmured in a sad voice as they walked through the grounds. “We trained at the seminary together. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was.” Paul wasn’t sure what to say, but the other man beat him to it.
“Max and I were friends for a long time. He often talked about you and your, er, allies. He was convinced you were on the side of good.”
For anyone else, Father Michael’s speech would have sounded sappy, but Paul decided to accept it for what it was—something honest and from the heart. Nodding, he answered, “He was right.”
If Max saw him as being decent, then the few other people walking around in the biting cold must have held a different opinion, as they hastily averted their gazes when he walked in their direction. “Here we are,” Father Michaels said, pointing to a small, plain headstone. “I’ll leave you for now.”
After he walked away, Paul observed the headstone with a mixed sense of loss and anguish. Max had been one of the good ones, a good person trying to do a decent thing to help a lonely and frightened kid achieve something in the world. He knelt down to touch the cold stone and maybe, just maybe, felt a kind of connection.
Not a physical feeling per se, just a thought… A sharp realization of how much this person had taught him. He didn’t want to think it was divine in nature. Instead, he figured it to be an emotional connection, a final farewell to the person who’d willingly given all that he could give. “Thanks, Max,” he whispered and fought back tears. A second later, he muttered, “Ah, screw it,” and he let the tears flow unchecked.
In many ways, he’d been closer to Max than to his real father. His real father had helped to bring him into the world but nothing more. Hadn’t tried, hadn’t cared, and he’d showed it by dumping his only child into an orphanage then disappearing for almost fifteen years.
And what did I get? I met my father once, he apologized, then it was over. Some reunion we had—not.
His father’s apologies had come many years too late. Any chance of an emotional connection had gone out the window. However, with Max it was a different story. After taking stock of his situation, Paul realized that if not for Angela and, to a lesser degree, Ooze and Sandstorm, he would be totally isolated.
“Hey,” a voice said from behind him. “Are you okay?”
Spinning around, he saw that Quill stood a few feet away, scratching the back of her head. “Angela drove me over. You just walked out and didn’t say anything about where you were going, so she checked the obits on the computer and figured you’d be here.” She waved her hand at the van parked by the curb.
Squinting, Paul wiped the tears away and barely made out the face of the person behind the wheel. He only recognized her by her unearthly white skin. Even so, his vision had gone back to what it was—limited.
“I wanted to talk to you first,” Quill said. “You’re normal now, mostly. I can’t remember what it’s like to be that way. I don’t remember anything except that lab and those creatures. They made me one of them—”
“You’re not one of them,” he interrupted. “You’re one of us. I mean…them. I mean”—he fumbled—“the Nightmare Crew.”
Quill’s eyes watered and her lower lip began to tremble. “Nothing against you or your friends, but I’d rather be who I was. I don’t care if I was fat or ugly or whatever. I was a girl once, not one of…of Bambi’s buddies. I had a life. You’ve got yours back.”
She sat down on the ground, wrapping her arms around her torso in a gesture of self-protection. Ignoring the cold, Paul sat with her. He had his life back, just as Peterson had told him, but now, while he looked the same, he had no special abilities. What could he do now?
“It’s not the greatest thing going,” he finally said. “I have no power, but I still look different and that’s what people are always going to think.”
“But you were like me—once,” she pressed. “You went through the same thing I did. I remember waking up in that chamber then looking at my body and face, and I didn’t understand. Why’d you become this way?”
The question had been honestly asked, and it deserved an honest answer. “My situation’s a lot different than yours. I got shot, and I was going to die. The only thing that saved me was the chamber.”
Through teary eyes, Quill sniffled and her body shuddered until she took in a few deep breaths then asked, “Did you like being that way before?”
“It freaked me out a little at first,” he admitted. “I mean, it was pretty cool to run fast and jump high and be strong, but after going out to meet people, I saw how they stared at me. I know how others treat Angela.”
“She’s your girlfriend, right?”
“Yeah, and I’m glad she is.”
A gust of wind against his face caused him to sneeze. “Anyway, with you, you’re this way for now until Ooze can build another chamber to change me back. If it works, he’ll change you back, too.”
The last five words he spoke made Quill’s eyes light up. A smile began to cross her face, but the smile disappeared and a look of confusion replaced it. “If everyone thinks you’re a freak, then why do you want to be like you were before?”
Paul, who’d been staring at the ground, offered a shrug. He’d always known the reason, but it had taken an event of this magnitude to prove his decision wasn’t a bad one. “You know why? It’s because I want to be on the side of the angels.” He pointed at the headstone. “This guy? He was a teacher of mine. He told me the same thing, and I don’t mean that because I’m religious. I’m not. I mean it in that I want to help. A little over a year ago, I couldn’t even help myself. I was a punk, weak and afraid. So I know better than anyone what it’s like to get up every day of the week then go to class and know someone was going to kick my butt at some point during the day.” He licked dry lips. “I was desperate. Most people don’t know how it feels to be that desperate. They don’t know, but I do. So after I transformed, I realized I could help people when they needed it. Angela and Ooze and Sandstorm, they helped, too. It’s worth being what I am, uh…was.”
Naked hurt shone from Quill’s eyes as she glanced around the cemetery. A few people were staring and not in a nice way. “But how do you put up with all the crap you take, the fingers pointing at you and saying you’re weird or people looking at you like you’re some kind of bacteria?”
“You just do.” While the situation demanded a deep and perhaps more philosophical answer, he couldn’t give her one. Instead, after delivering his three-word summation, he shivered and sneezed again, still feeling miserable over his mentor’s demise.
Quill offered a gentle punch to his shoulder. “I still don’t like what I am, but thanks for being a friend. I don’t have many right now.”
Integration Page 14
