Supernova, page 16
Pulling a marker from his pocket, Adrian handed it to him. Max spent a moment considering the marker in his right hand and the dinosaur in his left. Finally, he slipped Turbo and the nest of tissue paper into the space between his knees. The dinosaur woke up and screeched, trying to jab Max’s fingers with its needle claws.
“Oh, calm down,” Max muttered, fluffing the tissue paper. Still sulking, the dinosaur burrowed around in the shreds a few times, adjusted the thin blanket underneath with its teeth, before lying down and dozing off again.
With both hands now free, Max doodled something onto the tips of his fingers. Adrian leaned forward, but couldn’t see what it was. After capping the marker, Max grinned mischievously and snapped.
Tiny sparks burst from his fingertips, flashing white and gold.
Adrian’s eyebrows lifted. “You know, I keep forgetting that you stole some of my power.”
“I’d say borrowed, but…” Max shrugged, then held his hand out to show Adrian the small lightning bolts he had drawn onto his skin. “I can only make sparks, but I figured you could have actual lightning bolts shoot out of your hands. Awesome, right?”
Adrian started to smile, but then the thought of lightning reminded him of Thunderbird, which reminded him of—
His smile dropped away. “Cool idea, except I try to keep the tattoos inconspicuous. Dad and Pops might start to wonder why I have lightning bolts on my hands.”
Max wilted. “Good point. Wouldn’t be the same coming out of your elbow, though.”
“Unfortunately.” Adrian thumped the eraser end of the pencil against the paper. “Have you been practicing at all with your new ice manipulation power?”
“Meh. Made a few ice cubes for my drinks. I’m not sure if it’s just because I never liked Frostbite, but … ice power isn’t one that ever interested me. But who knows? Maybe someday I’ll take up ice-skating.”
Adrian chuckled, amused at the idea of Max gliding around on ice skates. But then he thought of the construction going on back at headquarters, and again, the lighthearted moment vanished.
“Hey, Max … has Hugh talked to you about … after you leave the hospital?”
“Not really. I know I can’t come live with you guys, at least not until that Vitality Charm turns back up, for Simon. And, you know, whenever you’re able to break the news to them that you’re technically immune to me, too.”
Adrian flinched, even though Max hadn’t said it in a mean way. Still, he knew it would be easier for him to come see Max if he told their dads the truth about his tattoos and how he was able to imbue himself with this particular invincibility. But he wasn’t sure how he could do that without leaving clues about his other tattoos, too. His other powers. And his other identity.
“Remember when you sneaked me up to the thirty-ninth floor at HQ so we could all be together outside of the quarantine?”
Adrian nodded.
“I was thinking, maybe we could, like, remodel that floor into an apartment for me. We could put up big DO NOT ENTER signs, and let everyone know it isn’t safe for prodigies to come up and see me. Maybe it could work?”
Max sounded doubtful, though, and Adrian couldn’t bring himself to lie and say that, yeah, maybe it could. He knew the Council would never allow Max to roam freely around headquarters. He was too dangerous.
But thinking of the glass walls being mounted into place, forming Max’s new prison, turned his stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
Adrian jolted from his thoughts. Max was frowning at him.
“You’re not telling me something,” he said. Not a question.
Adrian swallowed, and it took him a few tries before he managed, “They’re rebuilding the quarantine.”
Max went still. He didn’t seem surprised, exactly. If anything, he appeared only mildly disappointed as he reached for the brownie on the tray. But then he set it down again without taking a bite, and set to scraping the chocolate off his fingers with his teeth instead.
“I wondered” was all he said, when he finally said anything.
“I’m going to talk to them about it,” said Adrian, dropping his sketchbook onto the floor and lowering his feet off the bed. He leaned forward, determined. “I mean, I tried once already, but I’ll try again. They can’t do that to you, Max. They can’t keep you locked up forever. You’re their son, not a prisoner. And you’re a Renegade. After the way you fought to protect the helmet, no one can deny that.”
A ghostly smile crossed Max’s lips. “I didn’t protect the helmet. Nightmare got away with it, and because of me, we lost Frostbite.”
“Who cares about Frostbite? We’re better off without her.”
Max snorted skeptically.
“You’re the Bandit. You helped defeat Ace Anarchy.”
“I was barely walking when that happened.”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is they can’t lock you away like an animal. It isn’t fair, and now that I’m able to be close to you, I can do something about it.”
“Sometimes,” said Max, fiddling with the cloth napkin that hung over the tray’s edge, “I think about being out there, walking around the city. Or being on a patrol team, like you. Stopping bad guys. Being awesome. But then, I think about what would happen if I crossed paths with another prodigy, and before anyone knew what was happening, I was draining their power from them. They wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, just … being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Being near me.” He sighed. “And that wouldn’t be fair, either.”
“We can come up with ways to make sure it doesn’t happen. There’s got to be somewhere else you can go. Somewhere you won’t be surrounded by prodigies.”
“You’re going to convince the Council of this, are you? To let both their biggest threat and their most powerful weapon go free?”
Adrian blinked. He’d never really thought of Max that way, and wondered if that’s really how Max saw himself. A threat. A weapon.
He was just a kid.
He deserved to do normal kid things. He deserved a life.
“I wish you could come home with me,” he said. “The mansion’s so big…”
“But Simon,” said Max.
Adrian sighed. But Simon.
If only they still had the Vitality Charm. Then Max could live at the mansion and all three of them would be protected from his powers. He could have a family, at last. A real family.
“Ow!” Max suddenly barked, shaking his hand.
The velociraptor had bitten him.
“Honestly, if you want food, I’ll get you food,” Max grumbled, picking through the leftovers on his tray and finding a couple shreds of ham.
Adrian nudged up his glasses, watching Turbo devour the feast. His movements were slower every day, his coordination clumsier. Someday soon, he would simply stop moving. Stop eating. Stop biting. He wouldn’t stop existing, but become like one of those plastic dinosaurs kids got in the coin machines down in the hospital waiting room, the ones that came in clear acrylic eggs.
“Say,” Max started, his attention trained almost nervously on the little beast. “Have you ever thought about…” He hesitated.
“What?”
He cleared his throat and tried to act nonchalant, wriggling his skinny shoulders back into the pillow. “Do you think the tattoos would work if you gave them to other people? Like … could you make Simon immune to me?”
Adrian tapped the end of his pencil against his temple. “It’s crossed my mind, but I don’t know if it would—”
“I know, I know,” interrupted Max. “It might not work on other people. And … then you’d have to tell them about the tattoos and that could lead to a lot of questions and…”
“I have thought of it, though,” said Adrian. “Maybe I could try it on Oscar first. Or Ruby or Danna. I could test it on one of them. And if it works…”
Max watched him, and Adrian could see him trying to temper his own hopes. The look flooded him with guilt. Was the secret of the Sentinel worth preserving, if it meant Max would be stuck forever in this sheltered half-life?
“If it works,” he continued, more forceful now, “then I’ll tell Hugh and Simon, and offer to give the tattoo to Simon, too. Then you could come home and live with us.”
“You don’t have to,” Max insisted. “I don’t want them to figure out who you—”
“No, I do have to,” Adrian said. “If the tattoo works on other people, then it’s a done deal. You’re more important than the Sentinel.”
Max leaned back again, though he seemed more concerned than excited, as his mind started to race down all the possible outcomes—if the tattoo didn’t work, and if it did.
“Okay,” he finally agreed. “How long before we know?”
“I’ll talk to the team tomorrow, determine who’s going to be the guinea pig, and figure out a time to do it. The tattoo needs a few days to heal, and then … we’ll just have to test it.”
“So maybe, like, a week?”
Adrian considered. It seemed optimistic. He needed to be extremely focused when inking the design, otherwise he risked its power being weakened from his distraction.
And focus was something he’d been lacking lately.
But what else could he say? “Sure. A week. Maybe.”
Would Max still be in the hospital, or would the quarantine be ready by then? Would he already have been moved back to headquarters? He had a feeling the new quarantine would have strict security measures put on it, much stricter than the first. It might be more difficult to test the tattoo’s effectiveness once it was healed.
But an idea was percolating in his thoughts. One that might have been a little foolhardy. An idea his dads would certainly disapprove of.
Which wouldn’t be the first time.
“Now what?” said Max, eyeing him warily.
Adrian leaned closer. “Why wait around here for the next week? What if we sneaked you out of here instead?”
Max chuckled. “And take me where? A deserted island?”
Scratching behind his ear with the pencil’s eraser, Adrian felt a smile creeping across his face. What felt like the first real smile since Danna had told him the truth.
“I have somewhere more hospitable in mind.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“AT WHAT POINT should I remind you that this is a terrible idea?” whispered Max.
“It’ll be fine,” said Adrian, leaning against the wall. They were hidden in a small alcove with a hand-washing sink, around the corner from the nurses’ station.
Well, Adrian was hidden.
Max was invisible.
Turbo was back in his little carrier, which Max held as to keep it invisible, too.
There were two nurses: a man standing at the desk flipping through a file; and a woman sitting in front of a computer, mindlessly stabbing a plastic fork into a plastic container containing a garden salad. The man would occasionally try to involve the woman in some gossip about one of the doctors on staff, but she seemed utterly uninterested.
Finally, checking something off on a clipboard, the man tucked the file under his arm and wandered down the corridor. Adrian pressed his back against the wall, holding his breath, until he had gone.
“Okay. Remember what to say?”
“This is never going to work” came Max’s reply.
“That’s the spirit.” Adjusting his collar, Adrian approached the desk. “Hi,” he said, flashing a brilliant smile.
The woman glanced up. Her eyes widened. “Hi?” she stammered. “Aren’t you…?”
“Adrian Everhart.” He thrust out a hand, which she took with some surprise.
“Yes!” she said. “I’ve been helping to care for Max. It’s so nice to meet you. Wow, you look just like you do in the magazines.”
“I guess I would,” he said, with an awkward chuckle.
“I’m so sorry you can’t visit Max, given his”—she stumbled over the word—“condition. But I can assure you he’s been responding great to the treatment and—”
“Actually, I was hoping I could talk with you a bit about Max and his treatment.” He leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “Privately, if that’s all right?”
“Oh. Um.” She frowned at the computer, uncertain. “There’s always supposed to be someone—”
“Just for a second. It’s … you know … Renegade stuff. And it’s important.”
A touch of curiosity entered her face. “Of course. Let me just close this out…” She logged off the computer, then tucked the fork into the bed of lettuce and stood. Adrian led the way, passing by the alcove where he knew Max was waiting. Adrian flashed a discreet thumbs-up, then paused, facing the nurse. He thought he heard the quiet shuffle of a hospital gown a few feet away from them, but it was hard to tell with the constant thrum and beeps of machinery in the hospital wing.
“So…,” Adrian started. “First, I want you to know how impressed my family has been with the care Max has gotten here. It’s been apparent how top-notch the staff is, and we just … we really appreciate how attentive all you nurses and doctors have been, and the physical therapists and everyone, really. It’s clear how much you guys really care for your patients.”
The woman flushed. “Well, we do our best.”
Adrian smiled at her. “It shows.”
He spied movement at the nurses’ station. The microphone being lifted from the intercom system.
“And we know how unconventional Max’s treatment has been,” Adrian continued, trying to keep his attention on the nurse. “I know the prodigy healers who work here shoulder a lot of the responsibility, but your civilian staff has really stepped up to help Max recover, and to ensure he received … just … the best care possible, even without a prodigy healer.”
“Thank you,” said the nurse, even as hesitation entered her tone. “But was there something you needed to discuss…?” She started to glance toward the desk.
“Medicine!” said Adrian.
She jumped, startled.
“We, uh … we know there’s been some shortage of certain pharmaceuticals lately, especially after the theft that was all over the news a while back, and we wanted to check if … you’re well supplied. With everything that—”
A speaker crackled overhead, followed by a voice erupting through the hall. Max’s voice, but lowered in an attempt to sound older, repeating the words that Adrian had coached him on, having heard them a couple of times during his visits.
“Three-two-one! Three-two-one! All available emergency personnel, report to room one-sixteen immediately! We need all prodigy healers to report immediately. Repeat, this is a three-two-one alert!”
The nurse cocked her head. “I wonder who that was,” she mused. “Must be a new intern.”
“That sounded really important,” said Adrian, as out of the corner of his eye he saw the microphone replace itself on the intercom. “I’d better let you go. We can discuss this later.”
“Oh, that alert only applies to prodigy hea—”
“Keep up the good work!” Adrian clapped her on the arm, then walked past her, past the desk. “See?” he whispered, hoping Max was beside him as he swung into the next corridor. “No healers, no prodigies, no worries. Come on, this way.” He headed toward the southern elevator bank.
“Okay, this is sort of fun,” Max whispered. “I feel like a spy in one of those old action flicks.”
Amusement twitched at Adrian’s cheeks, and he wondered if it was cooler to be a spy or a superhero. Maybe they were a little bit of both.
“You would make a pretty awesome spy.”
“I know. No one ever suspects the kid.”
Adrian chuckled. “That and the whole invisibility thing.”
“That goes without saying.”
Adrian started at the sound of footsteps barreling toward them. He stepped closer to the wall, holding out his arm to tuck Max behind him—which probably looked like an odd thing to do—but neither of the men in blue scrubs was paying him any attention.
But when they were twenty steps away, the shorter of the two men stumbled unexpectedly, nearly collapsing on top of a cart stacked with near-empty cafeteria trays and paper cups.
His companion froze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just feel … weird, all of a sudden,” said the doctor, pressing a hand over his chest. “Not like a … heart attack, exactly, but…”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Max whispered. “It’s me. He’s a prodigy. I’m—”
Adrian reached for the air and found Max’s upper arm. He dragged Max forward, though the boy struggled weakly, trying to pull Adrian the other direction, away from the doctors. Adrian held firm. Realizing it was useless, Max stopped objecting and they hurried down the hall.
The doctors ignored Adrian, as the taller of the two tried to help his friend to a chair in a small computer alcove.
Before they turned the next corner, Adrian glanced back. The prodigy healer was sitting a bit taller already, nodding at something his peer was telling him.
“All the healers will head straight for the first floor!” cried Max, flickering into visibility, presumably so Adrian could see his death glare. “That’s what you told me. A three-two-one alert will make sure there are no prodigies—”
“Okay, okay,” said Adrian, holding up his hands. “So that one was taking his time.”
“This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this. That guy has lives to save! Patients! Responsibilities! And now—”
“He’s fine,” said Adrian, heading for the elevator. Max followed after him, still carrying Turbo’s cage in both hands. “You were hardly in his vicinity. I’m sure you only got a tiny bit of his power.”
“But what if that tiny bit is the difference between a successful heart surgery and a nicked aorta?”
Adrian feigned a confused look. “What’s an aorta?”
“It’s the big artery that—” Max paused. “You’re avoiding the question.”
Turbo shrieked angrily.
With a laugh, Adrian jammed his thumb into the up button. “He’s fine. And so are you. We shouldn’t pass any more prodigy healers.”
