Maybe he was going to give up.
‘I know what to do,’ he said. ‘Hold tight.’
THE SEDAN PULLED OFF THE ROAD, KICKING UP A CLATTER OF GRAVEL.
Chizara leaned forward in her seat. ‘So this is your plan, Nate? We bust you out of jail and you want to walk straight back in?’
‘And take us with you?’ Scam squeaked from beside her.
Nate threw a grin back at them. ‘Trust me, guys.’
One of the helicopters was directly overhead. The dust of its rotor wash flew up around the car, like a twister was lifting them. The noise was unbelievable, and Chizara’s head filled with a light-speckled cloud of airborne electronics.
Her Crash brain kept searching for a way to bring the helicopters down safely.
Or you could just drop them, it nagged.
But the balance of the spinning blades was so precise, she couldn’t stop the engines without the choppers spiraling into the ground, killing everyone inside.
No, that wasn’t her. Not yet, anyway.
The sedan crunched to a stop. Leaving the motor running, Nate unlatched his door. Dust and thunder poured in through the crack.
Chizara felt a kick of glorious-leader power from him as he flung the door wide.
‘Everyone out! Act like you’re giving up!’
‘We are giving up!’ Ethan cried.
But they all leaped to obey. Chizara grabbed Kelsie’s hand and stumbled out, screwing up her eyes against the whirling sand. Tiny pebbles stung her bare arms and legs.
The giant mechanical insects whap-whapped downward. The nearer one fumbled delicately for a foothold, then settled its monstrous weight on the dirt.
‘Do not move!’ came a shout through a megaphone. A man in a flak jacket stood in the open side bay door, the sniper beside him aiming through his scope.
Chizara nudged the scope’s optics another few degrees, just in case.
‘Keep everybody calm, Mob!’ Nate yelled.
But Kelsie looked too wobbly to control a crowd. The rotor wash was practically blowing her off her feet.
Chizara leaned closer. ‘It’ll be okay. He’s got a plan.’
Apparently.
The five of them arranged themselves in a line, hands up. Kelsie shut her eyes against the wind and sand, started bopping to the beat of the blades.
‘Crash!’ Nate’s shout was like a cricket’s chirp against the engine roar. ‘Don’t mess with the choppers till the second one lands. Do what you can with the guns!’
She nodded. Of course – once the helicopters were on the ground, she could wreck their engines without killing anyone. But by then they’d be surrounded by armed marshals.
Had Nate really thought this through?
Four men had already spilled from the doors of the grounded helicopter. Sidearms drawn, they scuttled along in a crouch beneath the spinning disk, taking up positions. They peered nervously at the empty sedan and the line of kids beside it.
Chizara scanned the pistols – Glocks, made mostly of plastic polymers instead of metal, no electronics. All she had to play with were the tiny metal springs in the firing pins. Even full of power from the crashed Strip, she’d find it tricky to disarm the pistols.
She started on the first one, doubts attacking her:
There isn’t time.
You’ve never even tried this before.
A ninety-percent success rate won’t be good enough!
But Kelsie’s loop hit her then, calming her, helping her focus on the metal spring wrapped around the firing pin of the Glock. Focus deep, focus hard, until she could see the latticework that made up the alloy, that gave the metal its elasticity. She brought her power to bear, working with the faint charge in the tiny component to overexcite the molecules, to make heat, to dislodge them from their places in the lattice. Slowly, surely, she welded the spiral onto the pin.
Distracting her were the tiny pounding lights in the cops’ chests, strung out in a line, begging to be crashed. Maybe she could make their hearts flutter a little? Drop them to their knees in a swoon…
Chizara gritted her teeth. This wasn’t the time to experiment. A stopped heart would kill someone just as surely as a helicopter crash.
At least the pistols were all the same model. She went onto the next and attacked the firing pin, quicker and more confident now.
The second helicopter was landing, farther away. The rotors’ wind pummeled Chizara’s ears, fluttered her clothes. Soon there would be more boots on the ground, more pistols aimed at them – too many to disable.
‘It’s almost down,’ Nate said. ‘I hope you’ve fixed those handguns.’
Chizara crushed the third Glock’s firing pin with a burst of energy.
‘All but one. And that sniper’s close enough to fire from the hip.’
‘He won’t be a problem. Give me two engine fires, now.’
Chizara had to smile. So easy.
She took hold of the digital engine controls in both helicopters. Flattened the rotors so that the choppers couldn’t take off again, opened the fuel lines wide, revved their engines up as fast as she could. The torque began to make the skids shift across the ground.
Inside, the pilots started yelling, grappling with their useless controls.
Chizara grunted, jamming all the safeties and forcing an oil leak through the closer chopper’s engine casing, where it splattered on scorching metal. Alarms sounded and smoke began to pour off the helicopter’s roof.
The agents looked up, began shouting. One waved her arms, and the others started scurrying away from the spinning blades.
‘Panic them, Mob!’ Nate shouted over the din. ‘Everyone link up!’
He grabbed Chizara, and Chizara took Kelsie’s hand.
A dullness came over the world as Nate sucked them into anonymity. All Chizara’s anxiety, her battle readiness, her determination not just to survive but to win, whipped out of her.
Smoke whirled from the burning helicopter. Two of the marshals retreated into the dust cloud. Others went to help the pilot and the sniper, who were out of their seats, spraying fire extinguishers up at the ceiling of the chopper bubble.
‘No eyes on us!’ Flicker shouted. ‘Back in the car!’
She pulled Chizara and Nate along, with Scam and Kelsie at the ends of the chain.
A second engine fire seemed like overkill, so Chizara simply zapped the controls of the just-landed helicopter. It began to slew across the dirt as its tail rotor lost its battle with the main disk’s torque.
Then she let all the choppers’ electronics fail, like huge Christmas trees toppling in on themselves, splintering, their strings of winking lights sputtering out.
They scrambled back into the car, clumsy and awkward, like this was some kind of wild dare at a traffic light, changing handholds so no one would be visible even for a second.
‘They’re totally freaking,’ Kelsie said, scooting along the backseat. ‘I’m keeping them that way!’
Once they were all inside, Nate let go. The tumult of reality rushed back in at them, dust and noise and acrid smoke.
Chizara focused her power, starting the car.
‘How are those guns, Crash?’ Flicker shouted.
‘I jiggered three of the pistols’ firing pins – I think.’
‘I guess we’ll find out,’ Nate cried. ‘Heads down!’
He floored the accelerator, and the sedan took off, fishtailing on the sand before steadying. Dust filled the windows.
‘The marshals are getting their panic under control!’ Kelsie shouted, throwing an arm around Chizara and dragging her down.
‘They can’t even see us,’ Flicker scoffed.
But a moment later the front windshield cleared, the sedan bursting out of the cloud of rotor wash and smoke.
‘Here we go,’ Flicker said. ‘Someone’s looking at us through a scope. Aiming for the right rear tire!’
Chizara tried to remember which way she’d nudged the sniper’s optics – left or ri
ght?
The answer came when a sharp smack went through the car. Something dunking against the bottom of the chassis, dead center.
‘Crap!’ Ethan shouted next to Chizara, lifting his feet up off the floorboard. ‘I felt that!’
But she was laughing now, full of juice and adrenaline. ‘They can’t hit anything. At least not on purpose!’
‘By accident is still a bullet!’ Ethan cried.
‘Whatever you did with the handguns worked,’ Flicker said. ‘One of those guys is stripping his pistol.’
‘But I didn’t get all of—’
A glassy pop cut her words off. Tiny ice cubes cascaded over Chizara’s back and into her curls.
‘Whoa!’ Nate said. The car veered for a moment, then found the highway’s center and accelerated again.
Still laughing, Chizara rose up to peep out the back window. Blue-green cubes of glass danced away across the trunk lid, carried by the car’s vibration and the wind. The helicopters and the hapless marshals had shrunk to toy size behind, wreathed in swirls of smoke and dust.
But one man in a flak jacket stood there, still taking aim.
She glimpsed his heart—
‘Get down.’ Kelsie dragged on Chizara’s shoulder, pulling her back under cover.
The sound of the shot reached them, but nothing hit the sedan. They were too far away, moving too fast for pistols and rifles with broken sights.
They all sat up, Ethan, Chizara, and Kelsie brushing glass off themselves.
‘Man, they’re pissed,’ Kelsie said. ‘They hate a bunch of kids beating them!’
‘And now we’re barreling down the highway with no back window,’ Flicker said. ‘We need to ditch this car ASAP.’
‘Let’s just take a moment to breathe,’ Nate said.
Flicker stared at him. ‘Since when are you Zen Boy?’
Nate only shrugged. ‘I don’t have to be. You’ll get the real one back soon.’
Flicker yanked open the glove compartment, pulled out the folder, and pressed it to her chest.
I hope this guy’s worth it, Chizara thought. Her body was burning through its nervous energy as the battle fervor faded. Every cell was back in its usual place, primed at maximum watchful anxiety. The elation gradually faded, and she felt hunted again, homesick.
That had only been two helicopters. How many did the federal government have? Thousands more?
The feds were too smart, too numerous and well equipped. It was only a matter of time before they ran the Zeroes down.
But she was glad of this churning in her stomach. In that anonymous world with Nate, she’d felt not quite human. Like a helicopter herself, hovering above reality, disconnected, not responsible for anything she did.
Like a demon might feel.
The hot desert air spilled through the car, buffeting her clothes and hair. Up ahead, the highway was empty. As was the wide blue sky, and the road behind.
A laugh bubbled up in her, but not the evil-villain laugh that came with crashing stuff. Something light, relieved, astonished.
‘So basically we won that one by surrendering?’ she said. ‘That is so not you, Nate.’
Nate ran a hand over his prison buzz cut.
‘People change.’
COLD EVENING WAS COMING DOWN. The day’s sounds were all gone – the sea hissing on the gravel beach, cars roaring past along the highway, the fog-bound oaks and maples dripping.
Now silence, all around the boy, beckoned him deeper into the forest. He’d made it, to the last place that connected him with the world.
Beyond this there was only peace, freedom from the pain he’d been fleeing. Freedom from everyone and everything. A final chance at nothing.
A last disappearing.
He forced himself to make a fire first. Fire would warm that distant, complaining creature, his body. His bare feet, sore where they weren’t numb with cold, really liked the idea of a fire.
The fire had been the focus the last time he’d been here, with that guy who’d known his name for a while. It had been easier to talk at burning wood and crackling sparks than to face each other.
He could remember the guy’s manner, thoughtful and curious.
Had he smiled a lot? Or just given off the feeling of smiling?
The campground was closed for the winter, so there were no other people. He was alone with the deep memories that drifted up to keep him from melting into the nothing.
The fire he made was small and nearly smokeless. But it brought life to the dimming, dripping forest. For now it kept him anchored to his body, to the pain of his thawing feet.
But when it was gone, he would go too.
His friend had sat right here next to him, beside this same concrete fire pit. He’d brought all sorts of equipment – keyboards, cameras, a notebook. Recording everything. Siphoning their conversation into his devices, like some collector who’d found a prize specimen. Saying that as soon as he got home, he’d print it all and wipe the devices. A promise of trust and secrecy.
The boy had been grateful for all the talking. Back then he’d craved being seen, recognized. He’d curled up in his sleeping bag that night with a quiet mind, happy.
He fed a fresh stick into the fire. Did he even want that happiness now?
It didn’t matter what he wanted. What he’d done stood in the way.
Something cold and wrong.
A burning coal popped in the fire, and a roar filled his buried memories. His right hand ached. The fire wasn’t a fire anymore – it was a fallen boy, his back and his head blown open, two awful fiery craters.
There was no coming back from that.
His body panicked for a moment, all thumping heart and taut muscles. He stared down the vision, until it was a fire again – small, hungry for more wood, harmless.
His pulse slowed, and a different rhythm throbbed behind it. A car engine, off in the woods toward the gate. Would these trespassers force him away from the warmth?
He waited by the fire, his body soaking up heat while it could.
The engine sound drew closer along the looping trail, cruising past one empty campsite after another. The time had come. The forest waited, ready to take him in, to absorb him completely.
He stood up, kicked dirt over the fire.
The vehicle was nearly here.
Music was pouring from it, rolling out among the ferns and stumps and trees. Music he knew.
And a girl was calling out the window. He knew her, too, and she knew him.
He turned away, pushed into the fog and the cold, into the forest that would dissolve him completely.
She called again, her voice shaky. Please be here!
But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be anywhere. He wanted to be nothing.
The van pulled into the campsite, its doors opening. He ducked and crept farther into the trees, letting go, pushing away from this reality.
It sank and flowed away behind him, the world he’d once known and belonged in. Ahead yawned the darker nothing – peace and emptiness lived there, and, at the very farthest edge, no coming back.
Nothing! called the girl into the dripping quiet.
That made him stop. He remembered someone naming him that.
The van’s engine went silent.
Are you sure this is the place? A scratchy voice, male.
One hundred percent positive. That voice, bone-weary, was the guy from that summer. Right here. He’d remembered this place too, damn it.
The boy eased away through a patch of ferns, climbed a small slope. He was edging behind two oaks growing close together when the girl called again.
She called his name, his real name. Her voice carved a hole through the fog, through the dusk. It banished the distance he’d been working so hard to keep…
Are you here? she cried. Don’t hide from me.
She was closer than the others, right at the edge of the clearing, about to plunge in after him. You’ve got to be here, Thibault – where else would you go? br />
She was in pain. She was in tears.
It was very simple all of a sudden.
He couldn’t let her cry.
He opened his mouth, and a voice came out of it, hardly a voice at all, hoarse with disuse…
‘Flicker?’
Instantly he wanted to snatch the word back. That single sound was reeling everything in – all his pain, his guilt, what he’d done.
But already she was hurtling toward him, feet thudding, breaking twigs, tearing past foliage. ‘Yes, it’s me! Where are you?’
He stood among the oaks, motionless, giving her no more clues. It was better if he went, for everyone. She would hunt for him, and not find him, and go away thinking she’d imagined his voice—
But she drew closer. Her face a pale circle in the near dark, turning this way and that. Her attention glittering in the darkness, not a spotlight from her eyes, but diffuse and coiling, like sparks rising up from the fire.
She struggled on for another three steps.
‘Thibault,’ she whispered, as if she knew how close he was. ‘Say something. Say my name again. That’s all you have to do.’
As if she knew the way into him, the key.
As if she understood how hard this was for him, how impossible.
Flicker, he mouthed soundlessly. His being wasn’t floating free anymore, but rocketing back toward this tiny, singular body of his. This body that yearned for that girl in the ferns.
‘I can feel you,’ she said softly.
And she came toward him through the curling cloud of her senses, stumbling up the slope.
He stood silent, shrinking from that world where he’d done that thing, broken every rule he knew. He didn’t move. He gave her nothing, not a rustle, not a catch of his breath.
He lifted a hand, but couldn’t bring himself to slice away her attention.
Her focus reached for him, the nerve endings in her skin, her hearing, her sense of smell. She came around the oaks and spread her cloud around him. She put out her hand and his chest was there, the heart pounding inside it, betraying him.
She lifted her face as if she could see his. Her other hand came up and touched the ragged beard, the bare skin of the cheek above.
Then both her arms were around him, and they were pressed tight together.