Winning Choice: Let the car go and head home to check on Nicole.
Recap: Brandon just rescued an innocent man at a hospital after Mandeville placed a bomb around the man's neck. Nicole texted him that someone was lurking around the house, but at the same time Brandon spotted a car speeding away that may have caught video of him using his powers...
The Corvette peels away, but if Nicole is that worried I had better let the car go and check in on her. And with the cops approaching I don’t want to start another showdown. The guy I rescued seems okay, and gawks after me as I speed away into the sky.
You wouldn’t think it’s as tricky as it is to find your way around while flying. Or maybe I just suck at it. But I’m used to driving around, turning left here and turning right over there. I don’t know what all the buildings and streets look like from overhead. You also can’t fly too high because you can’t see squat up there. Everything looks the same.
I finally get oriented and make my way towards home trying not to fly so low I get spotted, but not so high I get lost. I feel ridiculously conspicuous.
When I read about superheroes in comic books they never seem to have these problems. Their whole world is set up for them, and people walking down the street just think "Oh, there's somebody in spandex flying about and throwing buildings. Must be Tuesday." When I'm the only one doing these things I stand out a lot more than I'd like.
Even with my learning issues it isn't long before I'm floating over our house. There are a few cars out in the street but nothing crazy that I can see, so I land quietly and quickly in the back yard. I peek in the back door, ready to sneak in as I did yesterday. I don't see anyone, so open the door and slip inside.
"Brandon!" Nicole runs around the corner, but her smile drops as she sees the burnt, smoking ruin that was my clothing. "What the hell happened?"
"It's been a rough morning. You said someone was-"
She holds up her hands to cut me off. "Wait, yes, I should have texted you back. There’s a bit of a problem.”
“Now what?”
She heads back into the living room and gestures for me to follow. There, on the floor, out cold, is the kid with the Prius I commandeered! Nicole shrugs at me apologetically.
“Okay, I don’t even know where to start! What is he doing here?” I ask.
“You know him? He was poking around outside.”
“Remember I told you I swiped someones’ car yesterday? It was his. But how did he find me?” I ask.
“No idea,” she says.
“And why is he unconscious?”
Nicole looks a little embarrassed at this one. “He rang the bell, and I was starting to freak out. I didn’t know where you were, and with those videos of you being on the news and all I wasn’t thinking clearly. So I answered the door, and he demanded to see you. Said he knew who you were.”
“Did he attack you?”
“No, he was just super pushy. And when I tried to close the door he pushed his way inside. Said he needed to talk with you. So… um… I hit him.”
“You hit him!”
“Yeah. With a frying pan,” she said, rather sheepishly.
I burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny! I was in the kitchen when I heard him outside and it was the heaviest thing I saw nearby. So I grabbed it!”
I’m still grinning, which apparently is not appreciated.
“Look, it worked,” she says. “And if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face I’ll clock you with it, too, even if it just dents the pan. I can take care of myself. I was just scared.”
She softens a bit as I give her a big hug. “I know, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I tell her.
“You smell horrible. Go take a shower and get some new clothes. Again.”
“Okay, but let’s get him up on the couch first and make sure he’s not dead.”
She smacks my arm. “He’s not dead! I was just checking on him when you came in. I’ve got this. Get your smelly super-ass into the shower.
By the time I come back out, clean and in a new set of clothes, the kid is sitting on the couch holding a ziplock bag of ice cubes against the back of his head. Nicole is watching him cautiously. She doesn’t seem on edge, but I see the frying pan sitting on the TV stand right next to her.
“Glad to see you’re still alive,” I tell him. “Now tell me why you’re scaring the crap out of my wife. And make it good, because otherwise I may be inclined to cure you of that being alive part.”
He winces. “I’m sorry about that. I was trying to find you and got a little overzealous.”
“You found me. But how?”
“Well, I-“
“And why?”
“You see, after we-“
“And what the hell is your name?”
He stares at me for a second, probably waiting to see if I was out of questions. Finally he sticks out his hand.
“My name Ryan,” he says. “Ryan Britt.” I shake his hand. He’s trembling.
“I’m Brandon, but I guess you already know that. Now what are you doing here?”
He sighs and sets the bag of ice on the coffee table. Nicole takes it and heads into the kitchen.
“After we ran into each other yesterday, so to speak, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What you did to my car and to that van, I’ve never seen anything like it. Right after you ran off with my duffle bag I almost doubted it even happened at all. People can’t do those sorts of things. It almost felt like a dream.”
“It’s sort of felt that way to me, too.” Nicole dumps the ice into the sink with a clatter and comes back into the room.
“The cops showed up, asked a lot of questions, and I told them I was carjacked. They seemed pretty baffled by the whole situation. They took a ton of witness statements, even closed down the street while they got the bodies out of the van, but I don’t think they could get a clear picture of what happened. Most of the witnesses were probably as confused as I was. Finally some other guys showed up, some special team, and pushed everyone away while they went over the van. I’d already given my info so I left.”
“This team was more cops?” I ask.
Ryan shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Some of them argued with the cops for a bit before sealing off the scene. Still not sure who they were. But I bailed on work and went back home. It wasn’t too long before videos of what happened started popping up online and everyone had theories about what was going on.”
“I saw that,” says Nicole. “Most people seemed to think it was a movie promotion or some publicity stunt.”
“Yeah, at first, but I don’t think that’ll last. Especially with the added pictures of you crashing through the park. So I contacted some old friends of mine. Maybe not exactly ‘friends.’ I used to be pretty big into hacking, for lack of a better term. Breaking into systems, screwing with people, causing all sorts of trouble. Was pretty good at it, too.”
“Hacking? Like the idiots who come into the Library and screw up our computers?”
“No, that’s just kids being jerks. And hacking’s a bad word for it, but it’s the one everyone knows. We liked to break into networks, steal people’s info, bring down websites, and all sorts of pretty illegal stuff. We caused a lot of chaos but never got caught. We were pretty damned good at it.”
“Why’d you quit? Steal a few million from a bank?”
“No, no, never something like that. That brings the FBI and the NSA into things real quick. I got out of it because I didn’t want a record. I was worried my luck was going to run out. So I bowed out and went straight. Made some good dough with what I learned, though.”
“So why did you go back to these guys now?” I ask.
“I wanted to see if they had heard about you, and they had. They were buzzing. These guys live online, and you were everywhere. They were already trying to figure out what was going on. By the time I got in touch they already knew you weren’t a publicity stunt, and were working to figure out exactly what you were.”
“I’m a Librarian,” I tell him.
“Not any more. We all started digging, pulling info on that warehouse you came out of, the police reports, tried to find out who could do this sort of thing. Every trail we followed either led into a black hole or at the doorstep of groups we couldn’t believe. We could only find whispers about you, and that was at the highest levels. We’ve never seen anything like it. There are national security issues we could get at easier than this. Without a doubt, you are the single scariest, hottest topic right now.”
“Online?”
“In the world, Brandon. In the whole damned world.”
I started to laugh, but it got stuck in my throat. The kid was so earnest, so intense, and under it all he was really, really scared. Nicole had been watching him talk, but now was staring at me. She was pale.
“So why did you want to get in the middle of this? Why did you come and find me?”
“I got into this stuff because I don’t trust them. Them with a capital ’T’. The government, big businesses, the establishment, take your pick. We did what we did to poke holes in their armor. And it got really clear, really quick that you were in their crosshairs, and we wanted to help. If they want you, then they shouldn’t have you.”
“Not everything the government does is bad,” said Nicole. “They’re not the bogeyman.”
“Maybe not all of them, but the part that kidnaps and experiments on unwilling people sure as hell is. We can help you. My friends are doing more digging and calling in some reinforcement. We can help hide you, watch your back, and keep you safe. Or at least out of their hands.”
“You want to use me, just like this shadowy group you believe in. I’ve got one person after me, and I’ll deal with him soon enough. There’s no conspiracy, Ryan. If there was, why aren’t they knocking at my door instead of you?”
“For the first time in a long time they’re honestly scared! They don’t know what you’ll do next, and they don’t all agree. It’s not just one big group, there’s like three different ones we can see and maybe more we can’t.”
“You need to leave.” Grabbing Ryan by the elbow, I haul him towards the door. “You’re just scaring my wife with your crazy crap. I appreciate your help the other day, but stay away from me.”
“Wait!”, he says, and wrenches his arm free. He pulls out a business card and writes a phone number on the back. “If you need help, call this number. The one on the back. It’s a disposable phone that they won’t be able to track.”
“Get out.” I shove Ryan out the door, restraining myself so I don’t send him flying all the way out to the street. Nicole watches him go, turning the card over and over in her hands.
The rest of the evening is spent trying not to fight with each other. Nicole believes the best in people and doesn’t believe in evil government and business conspiracies. But she’s also scared about what’s happening and wonders if Ryan’s friends can help us keep a lid on it. I tell her the kid’s a nut who fell into a crazy situation and just wants to cling onto it. There’s no conspiracy, there’s no online super-sleuths, there’s just me and her.
We finally go to bed and she falls asleep, exhausted. I lay next to her, staring at the ceiling for hours.
###
In the morning I head back in to work. Everyone is excited to see me, and of course gives me grief about being gone so long. They set up a little “retraining program” for me to explain “This is a book. It contains words. People read books. Can you read, Brandon?”
They’re all a bunch of pains-in-the-ass, and I love them for it. We get the silliness over with and I settle back into my old routine. It’s wonderful. Missing books and crazy patrons were never this welcome. I even get to help a young girl research princesses, and I show her the original stories some of her favorite Disney movies are made from. She’s going to have some questions when she finishes reading the Grimms’ Fairy Tales book, that’s for sure.
It’s a good day, and as I’m heading out to my car to go home the craziness of the day before is almost forgotten. Then my cellphone rings.
It’s a number I don’t recognize. “Hello.”
“Brandon! This is Ryan, there’s a problem!”
“Seriously? You’re the only problem I have right now. I told you to stay away from us. Don’t call me again.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up! There’s a new video online of you saving someone at that hospital bombing yesterday.”
The guy from the Corvette. “Geeze, can you see my face?”
“Not perfectly, but it’s clearer than the other ones. And with the big explosion it’s a lot more dramatic. We’re trying to take them offline as they pop up and find the guy who took it.”
“Has my name come up?”
“Not from the videos, but there’s something headed your way. We’re not sure on the details, but someone big is making a play. Be careful when you-“
The call drops. I try to dial back the number, but I’m not getting a signal.
“Sorry about the call, Mr. Stamp. I did not realize you were on the phone. They will not work around me.” The voice is behind me. I spin around to see a very well dressed man approaching from between two cars. He looks like an executive you would see in a commercial for a bank, all friendly and helpful. He seems relaxed, as if he just happened to bump into an old friend here in the middle of a Library parking lot.
“You jam cellphones?” I ask.
“Not jam, exactly. But I take great precautions with electronic devices around me. And with what we need to discuss I assume you share my desire to not have anyone listening in.”
“I don’t have a thing to discuss with you,” I tell him. He stops about ten feet away from me, quite deliberately not getting too close.
“What has happened to you is extraordinary, Mr. Stamp. Unique. Not just for the abilities you now possess, but what it can mean for all of humanity.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything for humanity.”
“The people who did this to you acted on their own, and betrayed a lot of people in the process, including yourself. I know you did not ask for this, but you can do amazing things with your gifts if you choose. Learning from you could help cure disease, teach us how to heal people faster, and possibly save millions of lives. I represent some of the people who were backing the research that was put to use on you, and that was our goal.”
“I’m sure you can still use your research without me. I can’t help you.” I step away from him, but he stays where he is.
“Almost every part of the developed research material was either put into your treatment or destroyed. The little that survived has now been stolen by one of the people who did this to you, as I believe you witnessed yesterday,” he says.
So he isn’t working with Mandeville. That’s a point in his favor, I suppose.
“I can’t help you,” I tell him. “I’m going home.”
He pulls out a business card and hands it to me. I’m starting to feel like I should get my own business cards printed at the rate people are handing them to me. Maybe it could just say “Leave me alone or call 800-GET-BENT.” But ignoring it means I learn nothing about this guy, so I take it. It’s blank except for a phone number.
“My name is Warren. If you change your mind about helping us, please call that number. Oh, and please be careful, Mr. Stamp.”
He says it very casually, but I still don’t like it. “Is that a threat?” I ask.
He waves his hand dismissively. “Not at all. I worded that poorly and I apologize. I am not from the government, and I am not here to hurt you. That is why I am approaching you in broad daylight in a public place with nothing to hide. I know you are very on edge, and I do not blame you in the least, but we have enormous resources at our disposal and we honestly want to help. Unfortunately there are many of people out there with crazy ideas, and they may not be what they seem.” He nods slightly towards my cellphone, still in my hand from my call with Ryan. “So please be careful.”
He watches me as I head to my car and drive away. My cellphone signal comes back as soon as I’m out of the parking lot, but I decide not to call Ryan back. I don’t need any more paranoid junk today. Things were going so well. I just want a nice, quiet dinner with Nicole.
It’s a short drive home, and I’ve almost put Warren and his pitch out of my head by the time I’m parking in the driveway. I walk up to the front door, put my hand on the knob, and that’s when I see that the doorjamb is splintered. The lock is broken. The door has been kicked in. My thoughts of dinner immediately give way to horrible despair and blinding rage.
The rest of the door shreds off its hinges as I explode through it into our living room. It’s a disaster. The coffee table is upended, and one of the chairs is on its side by a wall. Stuff is smashed and scattered all around the room. “Nicole!” I yell with such force I’m sure people heard it a block away. I tear through our small place but she’s not there. No other room is torn apart like the living room, so whatever they were after they found it there.
Nicole’s car is in the driveway, so she didn’t drive off on her own. I dial her cellphone, but there’s no answer. I dial it again, but still nothing. She’s gone. Somebody took her. But who? They must know all about me, so it’s probably going to be a lot tougher to find them on my own than those fake Mormon missionaries.
Somewhere in this mess is the card Ryan left for me. Maybe I need to take him up on his offer. Or maybe Warren was more sincere than I gave him credit for, and he can help me unravel this. Or maybe he’s the one who took her. Which one to trust?
I think that I need to:
1. Call Ryan and ask him for help. (Winning Choice)
2. Call Warren and ask him for help.
3. Call nobody and try to track down Nicole on my own.
Voting on this chapter is closed, but comments on what you think about the characters, story, writing, etc., are always welcome. In fact, I'd love it!
And catch up with the story so you can vote on what happens in the new chapters!