“Hey, where’s Reuben?” Lark asked.
“He’s not coming,” I replied. “Ember, I need you to navigate.” When she’d switched seats, I handed her the tablet. “You ready?”
I glanced at the faces in the rear view mirror again, and this time I did not see broken hearts and drama. Instead I saw potential, as delicate as gossamer.
It was enough. Now I wasn’t saving one person, but many.
Item Fourteen
Letters received by Christina St. James, April 2, 1918.
Madam,
It is my painful duty to inform you that a report has this day been received by the War Office notifying the death of 1st Lieutenant Patrick St. James on the 13th of January, 1918, and I am to express the sympathy and regret of the Army Council at your loss. The cause of death was influenza.
And:
Madam,
It is my painful duty to inform you that a report has this day been received by the War Office notifying the whereabouts of your son, 2nd Lieutenant Edward St. James, as unknown. His company was engaged against the German Army near Blois, France on the 17th of January, 1918. Following the battle, he was unable to be found among the living or the fallen. The Army Council expresses their deepest condolences and thanks you for your sacrifice.
14
Marco and I came to a stop at the ten-foot tall chain link gate. I gazed up at the spindly, complicated framework of the substation, pretending for a minute that I could smell electricity as my father had been able to.
The various towers and lines laced together above us to form a skeletal complex that, if struck by high heat, would cause an explosion so powerful that Reid had built an in-ground bunker in a nearby hill. The others were waiting there for me to return from our little recon mission.
“Can you hear it?” Marco whispered. “Can you hear the power?”
I closed my eyes. Yes…there it was, a low humming I knew from my father’s power. A quarter million volts of electricity coursed through the substation each second, providing half of the Annapolis metropolitan area with light, heat, and much more. The generators on the Trent property would have to kick on once we took out the substation.
Marco and I halted at the chain link gate. A crooked sign hung on the front of it, illuminated clearly by the bright full moon that shone above us.
DANGER
KEEP OUT
EXTREMELY HIGH VOLTAGE
“Danger, keep out, nyah nyah nyah,” Marco grumbled in a childish mocking tone. “Whatever. Back up.” He raised his hand.
“Whoa!” I pushed his hand down. “If you blow it up now, there won’t be anything left of us.”
He shoved my hand away. “I’m melting the padlock,” he hissed. “I know what I’m doing.”
I took a large step back, heat crawling up my collar. Marco had displayed his vicious side before—most often in the last twenty-four hours—but I still couldn’t make myself be comfortable with it. I knew what he could do when he was pissed off. How could I forget?
And while he’d apologized to me for killing my father, he’d never once vocalized regret over taking a life—just that the life taken had been a relative of mine. He’d joked at Gabriela’s about a final showdown with my mother while Jillian and I had a romantic reunion, but his current steely gaze said it all: he fully intended to make me an orphan. This was just a necessary technicality before doing so.
Was I even allowed to be upset about this? And if I was, who’d sympathize with me?
Giving my head a little shake, I crossed my arms as casually as I could. “Sorry, go ahead.”
Heat rippled out of his hand and lit up the padlock, which glowed orange, then red, then yellow, then near-white. Metal drops plopped to the gravel, hissing when they landed on the cold rock. Without further ado, he pushed open the gates and marched into the substation.
I jogged to his side. “What are you—?”
“I’m determining where I need to strike,” he said, turning his head all around and taking in the structure. “It’s going to take an assload of heat to cause an explosion. Since we’re attacking your old house before sunrise, I need to conserve as much heat as possible for that battle.” He clenched and unclenched his fist, staring down at it. “I just don’t know…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m so tired,” he murmured. “I need to throw at least a couple thousand of degrees at this thing, but I don’t know if I have the strength to stop it. I could barely keep it together when we fought Kyle.”
“Stop it?” I asked, confused. “Why would you want to stop it?”
Marco laid his weary look on me. “I use the term ‘battery’ to describe my power, but really, I’m more like an atomic bomb, with a ton of energy just swimming around inside me. I use tiny bits of my power when I need to warm you guys up or something, but when I really let my power go—”
“Like when you killed my dad,” I said without thinking.
“Yeah, like when I killed your dad,” he said dully, “I’m just wrenching back the floodgates. That kind of blast is almost impossible to stop until I’m completely out. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I might not be able to help…when…” His last few words were tinged with worry, almost heartbreak.
After a silent second, he shook his head and pointed to a transformer. “I’ll aim for that. The explosion will trigger other ones there and there,” he said, pointing towards large boxes emitting low buzzing.
“What’s so wrong if you run out?” I asked with a shrug, undeterred by his abrupt subject change. “It doesn’t kill you.”
He took a huge, shuddering breath then spun around. “Go. Now. Get back to the bunker. When you’re there, I’ll send two little flashes of light as a warning, then I’ll count to ten. For the love of God, plug your ears. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be a safe distance away.”
He turned and walked out of the gates, leaving me to watch him in confusion and concern. All of us, it seemed, were giving in to mood swings under the stress of the mission. We were being…what was the word…
I laughed quietly. Mercurial.
A minute later, I was at the opening of the crude bunker Reid had built. In the dim moonlight I could see Marco on the far end of the long hill, crouching and watching me. His vantage point allowed him the best line-of-sight to the target transformer. My view was blocked by a large oak tree.
A flash of light flickered once in his hand.
I slid halfway into the bunker, which was little more than an earthen room built into the hillside. “Plug your ears,” I barked to my friends, who were all sitting against the far wall. “Remember the plan.”
“It’s not hard to forget ‘wait for the big bang then run like hell,’ Trent,” Berenice said before yawning.
A second flash.
I crouched down and hoped that Marco was crouching, too. Was he counting Mississippi-style? Or just—
“Ears!” Ember shouted.
The force of the explosion slammed into my ribs like a sledgehammer.
I was thrown backwards into the rear wall, my head colliding against the stone with brain-rattling force. Just as quickly, I fell to the ground, becoming entangled with someone’s legs.
When I realized I was alive, I inhaled deeply, the musty scent of dirt filling my nostrils—I was face-down. My fingernails scraped the dirt as I pushed myself up, each inch of motion causing my head to pound with every beat of my heart.
When I’d gotten a few of my bearings, I tried to listen to what was happening outside, but a high, rushing whine filled my ears, drowning out all sounds.
At least, I thought it was drowning out the sounds. Around me in the flickering, orange-tinged blackness of the bunker, I could see people jumping to their feet and groping around. But it was so quiet. Their actions implied confused babble and yelled orders, but I couldn’t hear anything except the roar in my ears.
Berenice shoved me off her legs and said something, her mouth forming angry words that I could not
hear. When I didn’t respond, she appeared to repeat what she had said, though her face was less furious, more concerned. Her eyebrows pulled together and she squinted at me. She spoke again, but I couldn’t hear her.
We realized the truth at the same time: the explosion had deafened me.
I began to hyperventilate. She reached out a hand to my face, but I turned away and hoisted myself through the bunker’s small entrance, desperate for air. As soon as my head broke through to the chilly outside, I froze.
The substation was utterly engulfed in billowing orange flames, their rounded edges capped with oily black. The inferno soared up from the ground—eighty, ninety, one hundred feet, scraping the midnight sky before disappearing. Every few seconds, white flashes in the substation would briefly arc and pop, and then disappear into nothing. The heat seemed to extend invisible claws towards me, prickling my skin and raking its nails across my cheeks.
Yet, the conflagration was completely silent.
Berenice spun me around and shouted something at me, her lips forming an impassioned plea. She appeared almost demonic in the fire’s light, her green eyes and blonde hair now a shimmering yellowy orange. She pointed towards the van.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.” At least, that’s what I thought I said.
She shook me and shouted again.
Another, smaller explosion tossed us backwards into the snow, but I still couldn’t grasp the enormity of the moment. I was deaf. I was deaf. Was it permanent? Had I sabotaged myself in an effort to sabotage my brother? Was my plan doomed?
My breaths became more ragged. Would I be able to save Jillian? Would she still want me with this kind of disability? Could I even serve anymore? What would happen to me? To my team?
Benjamin Trent, pull yourself together. Ember’s stern command cut through my near-hysteria. Marco is to your right. He’s can’t hear anything, either. Heal him and get to the van.
Her lucid orders were what I needed. Ignoring shaking arms, I pushed myself off the ground and lurched towards where I remembered Marco last being. Berenice ran off towards the van. I struggled to stay upright, falling face-first into the melting snow a few times.
Sure enough, Marco was sitting in the snow, rubbing his face and shaking his head. He smiled dazedly at me when I approached and said something, holding out his hand.
I touched it briefly, and he jumped up and began gesturing to the fire with an ain’t-it-crazy expression, but I shook my head and pointed to my ear, then shrugged.
He frowned for a second, then signed in the camp sign language: R-Y-O-U-D-E-A-F
I nodded and slumped.
Marco gently grabbed my jaw and tilted my head to the side, inspecting my ear, and then the other. He frowned and held up his hand. N-O-B-L-O-O-D
So my eardrums probably weren’t damaged, but I was still deaf. I signed a choice swear word.
Not to interrupt, Ember interrupted, but a battalion of emergency services are about five minutes away.
I turned to run towards the car and immediately teetered on my feet. Marco caught me before I fell again. With nothing more than an impish grin, he threw my arm over his shoulder and began to help me to the van.
Ember threw open the door as we approached, then pointed towards the empty seat in the middle next to Reid. Benjamin, you’re going to take it easy for the drive.
“No, I’m not!” I had no idea how loud I was. What the hell was she talking about? Even if I wanted to rest for the final portion of the trip, I couldn’t, because I was the only driver. Ember knew that. Maybe the blast had addled her brains.
But Marco shoved me into the van and slammed the door shut, then sprinted around to the driver’s seat, where the keys were still in the ignition. I moved to grab the keys—Marco was not killing us all in the middle of the night in suburban Maryland, by God—but Berenice grabbed my shoulders while Reid fastened my seat belt. I struggled and probably shouted, but they held fast.
Marco hastily buckled himself in and turned over the engine. All my muscles tensed, prepared for the inevitable impact with one of the enormous power poles around us…
Marco put the van in drive and expertly, if somewhat carefully, maneuvered us out of the gravel lot in which we’d parked. He checked his mirrors and pulled out onto the road, driving as if he’d been doing so for years.
I stopped fighting. What…on earth…
Ember touched my cheek, and flashes of memories flitted behind my eyes: Marco’s burning envy that I could drive when we were on the way to the tribunal. His agonizing grief over his sisters’ deaths that demanded distraction. Watching online driving tutorials in the week following our return home to drown out the pain. His careful attention to my actions while I drove to Baltimore.
Berenice slowly removed her hands from my shoulders. I didn’t move.
Marco had taught himself how to drive.
In a week.
As if he’d heard me, he turned his head slightly and gave me a sly smile before focusing on driving again. He drove in the perfect center of the lane, like any overcareful brand new driver.
Lark turned and spoke casually to Ember, gesturing towards Marco and laughing.
Lark says to not look so surprised, Ember said, her internal voice laced with laughter. Please forgive me. I told them all that he taught himself drive before you got to the van. You’re the only one that’s shocked. He’s known in our peer group for being a quick learner.
“Why?” I said, still too stunned to be annoyed.
Another memory passed through my mind, though this time it was Ember’s. It was far more controlled than her earlier flood of pain and fear.
“Hi.” Ember extended a shy hand towards one of her new teammates. They were standing on an icy bridge at the edge of the city.
The young woman, white-skinned, dark-haired, and sour-faced, returned the handshake with an iron grip that hinted at super strength. “Jillian Johnson.”
Ember could feel her uncertainty in her new role and picked up a fleeting thought, an observation that her new leader, Patrick, didn’t seem very friendly. Ember didn’t know what to think about this Jillian just yet.
The other teammate, a boy with light brown skin and a charming smile, extended his hand. “I’m Marco St. James,” he said, puffing his chest out in a clear attempt to make himself bigger. It didn’t work.
“How old are you?” Ember blurted. His voice was still boyishly high.
Marco faltered. “Um, I’m seventeen, but elder says I have to tell civilians that I’m eighteen.” The truth flowed easily from his mind, self-conscious reflections that although he’d broken the record of early graduation by finishing his courses two years early, he was still so obviously underage. Would anyone ever respect him?
Ember’s memory ended, bringing me back to the crowded, smelly van. I settled back into the seat, slightly awed by my youngest teammate. I’d known that he’d been told to lie about his age, but I’d never once pondered the reason he was sent out so early.
Jillian had said that Marco had been released into service because Marco’s uncle wanted them to stay together, but what if that was merely why he’d been released to Saint Catherine instead of another city? He’d “graduated” a whole two years early? Why hadn’t he told me? What else didn’t I know about Marco St. James?
A niggling thought wormed its way into my head: maybe Marco should lead.
Ember leaned forward and took my hand in hers.
Ben, we still need you to lead us. This is your old house, it’s your brother, and Jill’s your wife. We’re a few miles away from the stopping point. You sound normal when you talk, though your voice is a little loud sometimes. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be here to translate if you need me to.
“Thank you,” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I sat up. I’d heard myself, faint and distant, but definitely audible. “Hey! My hearing!” I sounded like I was a mile away.
Marco turned slightly again and said something, his voice nothin
g but a murmur to me. Ember took my hand again. Marco says your eardrums probably weren’t damaged, just the little hairs. Your hearing should return soon.
“Since when are you a medic?” I said, hoping I sounded more teasing than sarcastic.
His jaw moved, though this time he didn’t take his eyes off the icy road. I felt Ember’s laugh as she relayed his reply directly into my brain: “I was the medic before you flirted your way onto the team, remember?”
The raucous laughter of six other people was the first thing I truly heard since the explosion. Shock, relief, and adrenaline collided in my system, and I began to laugh, too. Ours was such a weird story.
“Turn onto the road coming up on your left,” I directed a minute later, after I’d collected myself. Reid winced and pointed down repeatedly, letting me know to lower my volume.
Marco turned off the main street onto a boulevard that bisected a wealthy neighborhood lined with McMansions, each a squarish million-dollar monstrosity squatting in its own acre of manicured lawn. All but a handful of the enormous houses were dark, a certain sign of their electricity-less state. Even at midnight, homes in this neighborhood would’ve had security lights and small floodlights to illuminate their house numbers, statues, and front doors.
We were getting close now. The tension seeped back into my muscles, this time from the turbulent mix of anticipation and anxiety. The high of the explosion and horror of deafness had worn off, and now the need to move forward enveloped me again. Jillian was less than two miles away.
An unbidden image of her sitting in a cell seared my mind. Blood dripped down her fingers and onto the freezing cement floor.
Ember touched my cheek, replacing the image with a fantasy of Jillian, slightly scuffed but otherwise unharmed, embracing me and whispering in my ear. Thank you for rescuing me. I knew you would.
I cleared my throat and pretended to massage my eyelids out of stress. “There’s a right turn coming up that leads to a small rec area. Pull into the playground’s parking lot. Everyone, get your things. We’re about to go by foot.”
Mercury Page 15
