Murray Hill || A Superhuman Tale - 1

Chapter Twenty-Five

They sat for many moments in silence. The young woman's face took on an ever-deepening sympathy, as if she wanted to say something to him, something comforting and profound.

"Nah. I still think I want your Gift," she said finally in a voice that broke the somber mood. The two descended into whoops of laughter.

After they managed to dry their tears, the check came. They paid and went to leave. It was just approaching dark, and Tommy checked his phone and gave Sam a quick call to sync their schedules.

On the three-block walk back to Philly's place, she told him about discovering her Gift and about meeting Sam. She voiced the common refrain that people from her generation didn't believe that Gifted people actually existed. When she was 15 and figured out what she could do, she'd had a minor breakdown, assuming she was merely a freak. What followed was a bout of shoplifting by a teen girl who could walk into any high-end store and walk out undetected with arms full of merchandise.

"That's how I learned the limits of my Gift," she said without elaboration. "Sam was a lifeline for me. He was the first one like us I met. There he was, big and strong and larger than life. I was 17 and at a bar with people I shouldn't have been with ... and I never figured out how Sam picked me from the crowd."

"It was only after meeting him that I started looking online," she continued. "There're scads of online communities on the subject. The vast majority of people on sites like that, claiming to be Gifted, are posers," she said with a snort. "After 10 years, I've only met eight people I'm convinced are really like us. I met two of them in real life, a car salesman from Macon, Georgia, and a schoolteacher who lives outside Marseilles, France—oh, and Sam, of course."

"And now me," he added. "Which of your friends are missing?"

"Two people I never actually met, at least not in person. I knew them by first name, online handle, and phone number. I didn't attempt to pry further."

"How do you know they're missing?"

"They were both people I'd kept up with online for a few years and spoke with on the phone from time to time, and then, bam, they vanished ... one about two years ago, and the other about six months back." She paused, as if searching for words. "People come and go on the Internet. The anonymity is part of what they love. But there was just something different about the way these two just evaporated ... abruptly, no texts, no e-mail, no board notifications. Phone calls went unanswered. Nothing. And I'd known these two for a few years."

"Did you try to track them down?"

"Not at first," she said, biting her lip. "It wasn't until I spoke with Sam the other day that I started rubbing my little brain cells together." She sighed and spoke after a bit. "How are they finding us?"

It was a question that had been at the back of Tommy's mind for some days.

"I don't know," he said after a few steps. "You said your friends online weren't out ... at least not publicly. You had their real-life names and phones. Maybe they confided in others? Look, there's never been a Gifted community. Most of us go an entire lifetime without meeting another of our kind ... at least we didn't until the Internet."

Philly stopped and leaned against a wall. She seemed to be in thought.

"Thinking about who you might've confided in?" he asked.

"Yeah. I've thought about that a lot lately." Her voice was husky, just a shade above a whisper.

"Maybe one of the variables we can look at is how many of our abductees frequented online sites about the Gifted?"

A look of shock crossed Philly's face. "Shit. Why didn't I think of that?"

"'To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle.'"

She gave him a strange look.

"Orwell."

"Oh...."

"We have to protect ourselves—and each other," he said finally.

"But that's the problem," she replied swiftly. "You said it yourself. There's danger in organizing and sharing information about one another. It draws an even bigger bullseye on us."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"No," she said emphatically, shaking her head. "There's no alternative. Somehow, someone seems to know who we are, despite virtually all of us wanting to hide. If we don't organize in some way, they'll pick us off one at a time."

Tommy realized his new friend had hit the nail squarely. "Our priority needs to be finding those who have disappeared," he said. "But if you want to start piecing together a network of people like us, Sam and I will help however we can. The key is secrecy. And watching our backs. Do you have security at your place?"

"Beside the panic room? An alarm system."

"Call a security specialist. Tell him you have scads of proprietary information and you need a top-of-the-line system: video cameras, motion sensors, security gates, sweeps for listening devices ... the works. Dip into the emergency funds as far as you have to. And if you feel yourself in any danger at all, call the police. And then call me and Sam. We'll come as soon as we can."

"I will." She nodded, wide-eyed and sober.

As they approached Philly's building, he realized the street was somewhat darker than the average in the city. There was also a large backyard with heavy bushes and trees all around. This is perfect.

He recovered his jacket and a small strap-on bag in which he had stowed the two tablets and the $50,000 cash he'd kept aside for Sam. The pack seemed a touch bulky, but after he strapped it across his chest and put his jacket over the top it was hardly noticeable. He tossed the bag of clothes he'd purchased earlier in the day into a closet Philly pointed out. She asked no questions.

"It's time to go," he said. Surprise registered on her face when he asked her to show him the backyard. No one was left in the office as they moved downstairs. "Doesn't anyone work late?"

"Not tonight. I sent them all home. Most work from home as much as they can anyway."

As they got to the backyard, he looked around very carefully. It was dark, the trees were high, and he neither sensed nor saw anyone.

"Are you going to make a pass at me?" she said, a bit of a purr in her voice.

"Sorry to disappoint. I want you to see something, although I'm taking a slight risk. Wait a second." He could see her clearly but waited for her eyes to adjust. She seemed miffed, as if she thought he was toying with her. He continued looking about and spoke after a few minutes. "Can you see me, yet?"

"Yeah, pretty well."

He stepped away from her three strides and turned, took another look about, and then suddenly and smoothly rose 10 feet into the air, where he hovered.

He heard a sudden intake of breath, followed by, "Holy fucking shit."

He came back down.

"Fuck. You levitate."

"No," he said, a little wounded. "I fly."

"Like, fly ... ?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. I thought you just did the pretty face thing," she said. "Why are you showing me this?"

He thought for just a moment. "I need you to trust me. And I need to trust you. The best way to earn trust is to give it. I just shared with you something I've shared with only a tiny number of people in my life."

"Shit," she repeated. "I can't think of a single clever, smart-ass thing to say. You really know how to knock a girl's socks off."

"I have to go, Philly. Thank you so much for coming onboard. I can't say that enough. Let me know if you need anything at all. Anything." He stepped back.

"I'll keep in touch and will let you know as soon as I have something," she said awkwardly.

He took another look around, smiled at her, and shot into the air.

"Fuck. Dude can knock a girl's socks off," she whispered again.