Chapter Eighteen
They are the worst few seconds of my life – the life I can remember, anyway. All I can think as we fall is that we’re going to die. There’s no surviving this. We’re not invincible. We’re just two teenagers who used to be super powered.
Now we’re just two teenagers with seconds to live.
Until we hit the bridge. We hit the surface of it hard, but you won’t hear any complaints from me. I want to scream with delight. We only fall about six feet before the bridge made of ice forms between the two buildings. I see Chad standing at the edge of the building, a grin breaking across his face.
Fire and ice. Those are his powers.
Fire and ice.
We climb up the ice bridge to join them on the roof. They help us over the edge. Dan is beside himself with excitement. He’s jumping around like a dog. Chad looks exceptionally pleased with himself. Ebony still has not said a word. She’s hiding behind a hand held nervously over her mouth.
“That’s good work,” I tell Chad. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I know. I saved your ass. You owe me one.”
“I owe you –” Now is not the time to remind him about which one of us, until recently, was trapped in a cell. “We need to get out of here, but first –”
“I know,” he says.
He leans over the roof and points at the bridge. This time fire doesn’t erupt from his hands. It’s more of an intense heat that hits the ice bridge and melts it instantaneously. No one on the street below will even notice the warmer water in the middle of this storm.
We make our way to the car. Fortunately I’m wearing a dark jacket which hides the bloody patch in my side. I’m feeling sick to the stomach. Chad offers to drive, but I forcefully tell him to climb in the back seat. Maybe I’m too harsh with him, but I’m fading fast now.
Brodie climbs behind the wheel and we zigzag through the city back to the hotel. I’m asleep by the time we arrive. The others wake me up to assist me through the lobby of the hotel. They tell the desk clerk I’ve had too much to drink and he believes them. I’m barely able to walk by the time we reach our floor. Sometime later I wake up to hear Chad and Brodie arguing.
“– should be in a hospital,” Brodie is saying.
“That would only draw attention to us,” Chad says. “That’s the last thing –”
I pass out.
When I wake up again I realize I’m not wearing a shirt and Ebony is at my side. None of it makes any sense. Then I see she has a needle and thread in her hand.
I try to fight her off, but suddenly Brodie is holding me down. I don’t resist. I don’t fight. I trust Brodie.
Darkness comes again.
Sun is shining on my face when I wake up next. My entire body hurts like hell, but I roll out of bed and somehow land on my feet. Chad is at my side. He slaps my shoulder.
“How’re you feeling, old man?” he asks.
He still has a cheeky expression on his face. God, I hate him. Was he born with this expression?
“I feel great,” I tell him. “Really great.”
“This is a fantastic set up you guys have got,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm. “Penthouse apartment. Room service. Views of the city.” He gives a whistle. “Talk about living in the lap of luxury.”
I can’t think too much about luxury now. The woozy, sick feel from the previous day is gone, but the pain in my side is so bad I’m thinking maybe hospital wasn’t such a bad idea.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say. “Who stitched me up?”
“Ebony,” he says. “She’s my sister. I think.”
“She probably is. She looks like you.”
“I think we’re Norwegian,” Chad says. “We can both remember fjords –”
“What are they?”
“Bodies of deep water surrounded by steep hills,” he explains. “And we can speak four languages. Norwegian, German, French and English.”
“That’s a pretty strange superpower.”
He looks at me strangely. “That’s not a superpower. Most people in Europe speak several languages.” Plopping himself into a chair opposite the bed, he continues, “You missed our bio last night, so let me fill you in.”
Both Chad and Ebony found themselves lying on the beach a few miles out of the city. Like us, they had no idea as to their identities until they checked their clothing. They quickly assumed they were brother and sister. Completely by accident, they realized they had powers. Chad was feeling cold and wanted to make a fire.
He accidentally set a local boat shed alight. He then just as quickly put it out with a shower of snow. It took Ebony a little longer to work out her ability. She ended up assuming she didn’t have one until she realized she was thirsty and wanted a glass of water.
“We were sitting on a park bench at the time,” Chad recalls. “Then we were sitting in a puddle of water.”
They realized Ebony was able to transmute objects from one substance to another. Once they realized they had their powers, they decided not to go to the police. Chad was concerned they might be thrown into a lab and used for experiments.
As luck would have it, that almost happened anyway.
They were living in an abandoned factory when Ravana’s men attacked them. Chad tried to fight them off, but they were hit with that device that robbed them of their powers. Ravana’s men followed up with hypodermic needles that knocked them out. By the time they woke up they were in the cell in Ravana’s building.
So began days of torture and pain. Installed into the walls of the cell were emitters that created a dampening effect on their powers. Doctor Ravana called it a zeno ray. The chamber also had torture pads built into the floor so Ravana only had to flip a switch and they would be hit by the intense waves of agony.
The thought of it makes me sick.
“I wanted to kill Ravana,” Chad says. “He deserved to die for what he did to us.”
I find it hard to argue the point with him. Ravana is the sort of monster you want to see put into jail and the key thrown away. Still –
“A lot of people probably deserve to die,” I tell Chad. “But that’s not our call.”
He looks like he wants to argue. “Anyway, it looks like Ravana is permanently out of the equation now.”
I think back to the burning figure on the building. “Probably. Although, he has a habit of turning up like a bad penny.”
Brodie’s head pokes in through the door. “Are you boys still comparing your muscles or are you ready for breakfast?”
I realize I’m famished. “Show me the food.”
Ten minutes later we’re sitting around eating pancakes and bacon. It’s the perfect combination of fat and sugar. This type of food won’t sustain you long term, but it’s perfect when recovering from bullet wounds and sadistic maniacs.
Half way through breakfast there’s another knock at the door.
“Did you order more room service?” I ask Dan.
He shakes his head.
Worried, I insist on answering. I’m not in the best shape, but at least I can protect myself with a barrier if someone starts shooting. When I open the door I find a man standing there. He doesn’t look like he wants to shoot me. That’s a start.
He’s tall and thin and wearing a dark suit. He has black hair, cut short at the sides and a thin mustache.
“May I come in?” he asks.
Before I can answer, he steps past me and walks into the apartment. He casts an eye across everyone in the room.
“My name is Mr. Jones,” he says. “I’m with The Agency.”