21.0 - Remember, page 22
part #21 of Girl Out Of The Box Series
“My job,” I said, and started past her.
Owens busted out laughing, a kind of rough noise, like a truck starting up. “You don’t work here anymore, Nealon.”
“Fine,” I said, “I guess it’s more of a calling, especially since I’ve been doing it for free for a long time.”
“Seems like you’re doing it for less than free,” Owens said, trailing after me. “Seems you’re doing it at great personal cost.”
“Thanks for the keen psychological insight,” I said. “It might go down a little smoother coming from a therapist rather than a lady who corrals criminals for a living and occasionally hands out a righteous beatdown.” I nodded at the prisoner she’d taken out before I’d arrived on the scene. He was, near as I could tell, dead from her hit. She’d cracked him good across the temple, a.k.a, the skull’s weak point.
“Hey, I am what I am,” Owens said, picking up the pace to catch up. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” She let that ring for a sec. “What are you doing now?”
“I’m going to help the doctor,” I said. “For some reason. And anyone else on that side of the complex that’s still here.”
She shook her head. “Probably not many, if any over there. Guard quarters emptied almost entirely before the lockdown, because of the Warden’s planned speech. Anyone else would have cleared out for the alarm.” Her brow furrowed. “Why the doctor?”
I had to think on that to come up with an answer. “She’s not what she seems.”
“Oookay,” Owens said. “What is she, then?”
“I don’t remember,” I said, trying to dredge it up and failing. Whatever … whoever she was … it was lost in the gaps of white noise that Rose left in my brain. Large empty tracts I’d never be able to recall again, thanks to that Scottish hellbeast. “A meta, though, for sure.”
“The doctor is a meta?” Owens sounded a little hollow about it. She paused. “You hear that?”
I did. “Movement ahead,” I said. Coming this way. Footsteps on the metal ground. “Can you tell how many?”
Owens made a face, then wrinkled her nose in concentration. “Two. Maybe three?”
“Shit,” I said, and raised the Sig. “Two bullets left.”
“They’re coming fast,” she said. “I’d get ready if I were you.”
I raised the gun, looked down the sights. I’d have to make this count. “Please be two … please be two …” I kept my eyes on the curve.
And like everything else in my life … my hopes all went to shit as three metas burst around the curve at a steady run. Their eyes lit up at the sight of us, and, ignoring the gun in my hand, they charged.
42.
Sophie
Sophie lost a tooth in the next punch, and another after that. Sienna Nealon was beating the holy hell out of her, fist raining down over and over with a fury that would only end with—
Death.
Sophie threw up a hand and blocked the next punch, a shock of awareness bolting back into her rattled brain like a dump of cold water down the back of her neck.
Her eyes snapped open. Sienna was practically sitting astride her, fists bloody, eyebrows furrowed down in a triangular line that met above her nose.
“No.” Sophie counterpunched and sent Sienna flying. The succubus tumbled once before she floated back upright.
“Looks like you got a little fight left in you after all, golden oldie,” Sienna said, spitting out blood. Her lip was split but healed spontaneously. Wolfe. Damn him.
Sophie was up in a squat, poised for another attack, her fists clenched. “I have a lot of fight left in me.” She tightened the right, lining up the knuckles.
It had been a while.
“Show me,” Sienna growled, setting her own stance. Flames burst to life on her hands, the sure sign of a killing rage come over her.
Sophie understood that innately.
Hell … for a long time, it had been all she’d really known.
The tingle of near-forgotten power felt like a bell ringing inside her, growing in its intensity. There was her target, the dark-haired, angry-eyed girl who wanted to kick her ass, wanted to beat her teeth in—
Wanted to kill her. Viscerally. Gut-level.
Sophie knew that feeling all too well.
She was feeling it right back.
That tingle started to spread, run across her skin. The thrill of battle, the knowledge that your foe wanted you dead and the urge to visit it on them first, oh, she knew that feeling. Knew it, and saw it in Sienna, knew that only one of them was walking away from this one alive—
“Stop!” Penny’s voice rang high and clear. Branches seized Sophie’s ankles, her chest, her throat, wrapping her up in a flash of movement so swift she didn’t even see it coming.
Sienna must not have seen it coming, either; she was swarmed in the branches that had burst from the ground like a sudden garden. It looked as though a tree had swallowed her, one that had not been there a moment earlier. She burned, aflame, trying to singe her way out of the confinement—
“Stop it,” Penny said, sending branch after branch, root after root from the ground, dragging her down, ignoring the fire, stifling it and suffocating it out. Penny’s voice was commanding, brooked no argument, and her powers made it even more so.
Sophie relaxed in the binding of the branches. She knew this sensation all too well. It twisted around her ankles and wrists, and she let it take hold, closed her eyes, embraced the dark.
“The sooner you quit fighting, the sooner I let you out,” Penny said tightly. Sophie kept her eyes closed.
“I wasn’t asking for you to,” Sienna said, and a blast of fire singed Sophie’s nose, face, and hair.
She opened her eyes, and they stung. Everything that hadn’t been immediately protected by a tree branch was burnt, though fortunately, a lot of her flesh had been covered over. Everything else felt flash-burned, a sudden sunburn that had been visited upon her skin. It hurt to blink.
But Sienna was there, hanging over them, blazing like a sun. Branches curled up from the ground and tried to ensnare her but failed, burnt away to ash before they even got close.
“Do you have control of your temper yet?” Penny asked. A thick knot of trees was burnt before her, turning to ash to show that Penny herself was—
Unharmed. Of course.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Sophie said through burnt, cracked lips. Though she wasn’t. Yet.
Penny kept her eyes firmly on Sienna, but walked toward Sophie, placing a hand on her face as she loosed the bonds of twig and branch that held her. It took a few seconds, but Sophie felt the tingle …
Her skin mended and healed, and she felt the curious prickle of Penny’s hand on her nose as the nerves grew back where fire had scourged them. Her teeth partially regrew, but Penny removed her touch before they finished. That was fine.
“She started it,” Sienna said, still looming, aflame, but not making any further aggressive movements.
“I don’t care,” Penny said, and all her placidity was used up. “This was a mistake. You’re not ready.”
“Ready for what?” Sienna asked. “For you to ask me for a favor? Damned straight I’m not. Forgive me for holding a grudge on that whole ‘you sitting out the war that threatened metahumanity while my friends died for you’ thing. Maybe I’m still a little raw about considering I just found out—oh, five minutes ago.”
“If we wanted to fight you—” Penny started.
“You would have joined Sovereign,” Sienna said. “Instead of hiding from him.”
Penny drilled her with a leaden gaze. “If we wanted you dead, you would have never seen us coming. We asked you here for help, but you have nothing in your heart but violence to offer.”
“In fairness, that’s how I was raised,” Sienna said. “If only I’d had a strong role model that didn’t believe in that sort of solution to one’s problems … then I might not have been able to save all your asses by employing copious amounts of violence against a guy who meant to wipe you all out.”
“Just go,” Penny said, staring up at Sienna, shaking her head. “We were wrong to bring you here. Wrong about you, in general.”
“What did you think was going to happen?” Sienna asked, still burning. “You’d reveal yourselves—after all I’ve been through the last few years, first working against Sovereign and then working to make sure our people don’t burn the world down, turn everybody against them—and you thought I’d—what? Be so excited that there were more of my kind left that I’d just … paper over you chickening out of the fight of my life?”
“We thought you’d be reasonable,” Penny said. “We thought you’d …” She looked away. “It doesn’t matter what we thought. We don’t mean you any harm.”
“She’s got a funny way of showing it,” Sienna said, pointing at Sophie. “Dragging me across Texas. Starting a brawl—”
“You started it, you ridiculous, angry child,” Sophie said. Her face still burned, even with that wound healed.
“Maybe I did, but I didn’t get there all by my lonesome,” Sienna said, staring her down.
“You should leave,” Penny said, looking up at her. “We didn’t want violence here.”
“Which explains why you didn’t invite me here until you needed my help, I guess,” Sienna said.
“Don’t worry,” Penny said, “you won’t be asked again. We’ll give you the widest berth possible, and in return, all we ask is that you let us live out our lives peacefully.”
“I don’t give a shit about your cloister,” Sienna said. “If you don’t cause any problems down here, I promise I won’t waste my time coming out to this middle of nowhere swamp hole you’ve created. I’ll be completely happy if I never see any of your sorry asses ever again.”
“You may regret saying that,” Penny said.
“I don’t care,” Sienna said, staring back at her. “I look at you and all I see are the lives we lost because you lacked the moral courage to fight the greatest threat of our time. You let a seventeen year-old win the war you didn’t have the guts to even show up to—and I paid in blood for all your lives.” She narrowed her eyes. “Enjoy them.”
And then she cracked off into the sky, breaking the sound barrier and drowning out Penny’s reply.
“You let her go,” Modi said, blurring into place beside Penny.
“I had to,” Penny said, staring up into the sky where Sienna had vanished beyond the illusion that hung over the town. “You saw what happened. She was far more volatile and angry than we’d been given to believe.” Penny shook her head. “She wouldn’t have been a drop of help to us.” She stared straight ahead across the green fields, eyes unfocused. “She hates us.”
“She doesn’t know what we stand for,” Anbay said, stepping up behind Penny.
Sophie rubbed her throat. The residual feel of the branches lingered there.
“And she doesn’t need to,” Penny said. “Let her rage for a while, and then, hopefully—forget she ever came here. If she honors her word … maybe we’ll be lucky and never see her again.”
“That’s … cold,” Cuchulainn said, stepping up beside Anbay. They had a little half circle now, Men and Shen joining them, Mag and Angra Manyu filling in on the other side. They were all the facing the place where Sienna had hung in the air before making her exit, as though they were still waiting for her to return to take her place.
“There’s no room for warmth with her.” Penny shook her head. “She’s been through too much. The war, the losses. All the people who have left her since. That interview that made her an enemy of the press. I expect it’s all taken a toll. She’s nothing but rage now. Anyone who crosses her path should be worried.”
“I crossed her path,” Sophie said, still rubbing her neck. It bothered her worse than anything Sienna had done, including the lost teeth. “I remain unworried.”
“If you stay out of it in the future, you can remain so,” Penny said, little traces of a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. They sagged back down a moment later. “But … our problem remains. Now … we’ll have to settle it ourselves, I suppose.”
“As we should have to begin with,” Anbay said, turning away at last.
“Calling in an outsider—even her—carried too many risks,” Mag said, then a flash contrition lit his features. “Sorry, Penny.” Mag met Sophie’s eyes for a moment, inclined his head. Then moved away.
Penny shook her head. The others turned away, one by one. Heading back into town.
Sophie and Penny were the only ones left once the rest of them had moved out of earshot.
“You didn’t say she was so … angry,” Penny said, staring off across the green fields.
“She didn’t seem that mad back in Houston,” Sophie said. “But then … I only had one conversation with her, and it was … neutral … compared to anything we talked about here.”
Penny blinked. “I suppose … I’m glad that it came out this way.” She smiled wanly and turned away from the seemingly endless green that stretched only as far as the illusion that protected this place. “After all … imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t done this now? And we’d told her … everything.”
Sophie shuddered. Penny’s footsteps traced a slow, trudging path back, emotion quelling her strength and making her steps quiet.
But for her part, Sophie just stood there, looking out on the fields Penny had left behind. And the thought of what she’d suggested—that Sienna would have learned everything, if only she’d held that temper a few more minutes—chilled her even in the murderous Texas heat.
43.
Sienna
One shot.
One kill.
I took out the first runner, who was practically blurry with speed. The trick was to lead them just a little, let the bullet find them as they stepped into the sight picture after the trigger had been pulled.
Brains splattered, my risky gambit of taking the headshot offhand paying off yet again. It wasn’t entirely luck; I had a lot of skill with guns, mostly due to long practice. I’d learned to dry fire with my mother in our basement, but that was just clicking the trigger on an empty cylinder. No roar of powder exploding, no breech getting thrown open, slide rushing back, tossing your aim off.
Pulling the trigger on an empty gun was a world of difference from actually shooting, but I’d done lots of both, once I’d been freed from my home, in a mad effort to continue the drive toward mastery that my mother had laid the foundation on, as best she could.
“Any weapon you can use to kill, to fight,” she used to say, “you should learn to. Because you never know what you’ll have at hand when the enemy attacks.”
When I really thought about it, when I had time to spare—and I’d had a lot the last couple years on the run—I wondered if my mother had prepared me for a difficult world ahead by teaching me all this stuff. Or if I’d just become a self-fulfilling prophecy for her; she’d trained me for difficulty in all things, to face superpowered enemies at all times, in all quarters.
Was it any surprise I found difficulties aplenty when I stepped out into the world?
The shot didn’t faze the other two metas charging at us. Normally, a person would duck and cover when they’re shot at. Or freeze; or run. These guys kept coming, and I could tell by the look in their eyes that they were not on a mission of peace. They were blood drunk—not literally, but it was splattered on their prison jumpsuits, dark splotches across the neck and chest of one, on the forearms of the other.
They’d already killed someone. Probably a guard.
And here they came.
They fanned out to come at us. No easy line of sight between the two of them, no one-shot, two-kills possibility axis.
So I shot the first in the head, and readied myself as best I could for the second.
“Let me—” Owens started to say.
“Stand back,” I said as the last meta came ripping through the air at me, lunging.
I cracked him in the face with the butt of the gun, really putting my weight into it. He took it across the bridge of the nose and staggered back. I did not pursue, because I was slower than him, and my best bet was to get defensive, especially since the slide of my gun had locked open rather obviously on an empty chamber.
He was just outside of my reach, and I just outside his. His nose bled, and he brought up a sleeve, wiping it. He was sporting a couple days of stubble, and his nose was now facing an off kilter angle, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He reached up and moved it back into position with a crack and smiled. “Somebody’s lost her powers. What’s the matter, princess? You piss off the warden?”
And he came at me.
“My power is death,” I said, setting my feet. His lunge was clumsy, but fast. Too fast, in fact, for me to really put together a solid defense against it. All I had was one working hand and a Sig Sauer pistol that was out of ammo.
That would be enough.
I raised the pistol to greet his rushing face, pointing it toward his eye socket. He rammed into it, meta-speed, and then into me. Bones cracked in my chest, ribs displacing under the force of impact, and he knocked me off my feet. His full weight landed atop me, knocking the air out of my lungs and making a few more sounds of breakage as I hit the deck.
It felt like someone had dropped a car on my chest, the weight of the prisoner resting atop me. He was dead, the Sig sticking out of his eye socket where he’d run full force—like an idiot—into the barrel and the bottom of the slide. He twitched, tried to suck in breath, then relaxed. The smell told me he’d reached full muscle relaxation.
“Looks like … I’ve still got it,” I groaned. It hurt to breathe. I might have killed him, but it damned sure wasn’t without cost. “And I’m … handing it out left and right today.” Still couldn’t stop myself from being an asshole, though.
Owens rolled him off. “You all right?”
My left hand was now slightly numb from taking the impact of his charge up the length of it to hold the gun in place for him to spear into. “On a spectrum, I would say ‘all right’ is in the middle … ‘wonderful’ is to the far right … and I’m sitting over here at the left end, next to ‘dead.’” I didn’t even try to sit up.
