BOOK ONE IN THE PRIME JUSTICE TRILOGY
ROBERT SCHMITT
Copyright © 2020 Robert Schmitt
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-7349612-0-1
ebook ISBN: 978-1-7349612-1-8
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For Kellie, the light of my life
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
1
I DIDN’T EXPECT WHAT came to me the moment I realized I was about to die. The twenty-story building ahead of me had collapsed in on itself like a house of cards, buckling half-way up to leave the top dozen floors toppling to the street below. The street I was on. I blinked, my body numb as my heart thudded in my ears. I barely even registered the screaming around me as I watched the avalanche of boulder-sized rubble tumbling down toward me. I knew I should move—had to move. But my body wouldn’t cooperate. I already knew what would happen in the next few seconds. If I was lucky, I would be hit in the head by something heavy enough to take me out in one blow. Otherwise, I would be buried alive under tons of brick and steel, my brain left to slowly shut down from either a lack of oxygen as I asphyxiated under the weight of the rubble or, if I found myself in a pocket of debris, a lack of blood as my body bled out from the massive shock from so many concussive hits in the span of seconds. Not the most painful way to go, but certainly not the way I had planned to die. As if anyone could plan their death.
It’s funny. I had already decided what should go through my mind in that moment. Weird, right? Well, more depressing than weird. I already had an answer. If I were a good person, I’d think about my three children who were about to become fatherless. Unquestionably, they would suffer much more than me. My pain would be over within minutes. I knew firsthand how long their pain at losing a parent too early would linger on. But they weren’t what went through my head in the three-and-a-half seconds it took for those top floors to rain down on me. All I could think about was my wife, Amber.
Red hair. Blue eyes. Eyes the color of cooled-steel. And the way they caught the light when she smiled? Or when she laughed? They haunted those magical, fleeting moments of my dreams every so often when I woke in the morning and my mind was still fogged with sleep. Those mornings, I knew I would have a perfect day. Because I had already had a perfect moment. And it could only get better, because no matter how good a dream was, she was reality.
I was going to miss her. Oh, hell, I was going to miss her. My heart was already ripping apart thinking about not being with her. God, please. Please, don’t let this happen. I couldn’t leave her.
A part of me knew my prayer was in vain. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God. That was one question that had never fazed me. No. My problem was that I knew God existed. And I knew how He operated. And I wanted none of it.
I took in a sharp breath as I tracked the clumps of brick and rebar that careened down toward me, acutely aware of the fact I was standing directly under it. But I wouldn’t be able to move out of the way in time. I saw, in my periphery, that most of the people around me were jostling and screaming as they ran as fast as they could out from under the rubble’s path. But there was too much debris. It would cover the entire street. I could see it. Why couldn’t they?
A high-pitched whistle pierced through my thoughts and the mad cacophony around me, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end at the sound. I knew what it was. It was hard to not know that sound if you lived in Chicago. An odd mixture of relief and dread flooded my body. It looked like I wouldn’t be dying that day. She was too capable. It looked like God had heard my prayer. Of course He would send her. All this time, I had resented her—hated her, really. And for something that wasn’t within her control in the slightest. It was one of the few reliable rules about primes: no matter how spectacular their abilities might seem, they didn’t get to choose what their powers were. It wasn’t her fault that she happened to have the exact same powers as... no. I owed that girl my life, but I still couldn’t forgive her for abandoning me when I needed her the most. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t matter anymore. That was all a lifetime ago.
I watched the torrent of debris halt a dozen feet above me, still spinning madly in a deadly cloud but no longer moving downward. A second later, the brick and mortar collapsed down into a sphere of pulverized earth that floated gently down onto the street.
I looked up, the adrenaline still soaking my veins, to see a figure standing only a few feet away from me, suspended in the air. It was picturesque. She was dressed in an impossibly white catsuit that covered her from head to toe, with thin lines and patches of magenta running all along the sides of the suit that stood out brilliantly as they caught the early afternoon rays of sun that streaked in between the skyscrapers around us. Her head was completely obscured by a streamlined helmet the same immaculate white as the rest of her suit, and a heavy violet cape fluttered behind her. To complete her over-the-top look, the highly detailed image of a spiral galaxy was emblazoned across her chest, glittering and shimmering impossibly bright from the light around her. Criminals throughout Chicago and the Midwest had gained a well-founded hatred of that particular insignia. Most arbiters had them, but few were as distinctive as hers. The angular visor built in to her helmet was tinted violet to match her cape, making it impossible to make her eyes out, but there was no question she was watching me. After all, everyone else on the sidewalk had been possessed of the good sense to run when the building had first begun to rumble. She dropped down the few remaining feet to the ground, her white combat boots tapping on the cement of the sidewalk as her gaze stayed trained on me.
Gravita. I forced myself to meet her gaze. She wasn’t just a standard prime, blessed with superhuman ability. Even among arbiters—those primes gifted and dedicated enough to protect the rest of us from the primes who chose to abuse their powers—she was different. Most arbiters meticulously cultivated their media image. They had to. Without the sale of their merchandise, many arbiters wouldn’t survive on the measly government stipend they were allotted. To my knowledge, though, Gravita hadn’t ever said more than two or three words to the news crews that were lucky enough to catch her after any of her rescues. She never needed to. Even absent any media presence, most people considered her to be Chicago’s arbiter. Her merchandise was some of the most prized in the country, despite or perhaps because she donated virtually all her proceeds to charities.
But primes, even those that wore capes, were all the same, in the end. Gods who walked among men. And no matter what they said or did, that singular reality itself was the problem. The universe had been burdened enough with just one God. Now, there were millions.
Just about the last thing I wanted to do was talk to her in that moment. But she had just saved my life, and judging by the way she was still watching me, I figured I owed her a few words.
“Thank you.” My voice was hoarse, but I spoke loud enough to be heard over the chaos that was just beginning to calm and settle around us. “If you hadn’t—”
“You would’ve been killed.” Her
tone was harsh, reproving. I blinked, feeling as though I had been slapped. “Why didn’t you run? What were you thinking?”
“I...” My face flushed. I ran a hand through my hair to give myself a second to think, my mind refusing to cooperate from the adrenaline still clinging to my system. “I guess I wasn’t really thinking. I should have done... something.”
“Yes, you should have.” Her head tracked my hand. “You married? Have a family?”
“Yeah.” I frowned. “Three kids and a wife. She...”
“Next time, think about them, okay?” She shook her head and turned away.
“Hey, wait a second!” I called after her, indignation burning away my initial shock at finding myself still alive. “How dare you imply I don’t care about my family! Not all of us can just wave our hands and divert a mountain, okay? Us sapes have to come to grips with the reality that we’re always going to be at the mercy of someone else. That might not be a lesson you’ve ever had to learn, but—”
Before I knew what had happened, she had turned and gripped me by the front to pull me down so that, despite the fact I stood a foot taller than her, I found myself looking into the opaque visor of her helmet.
She spoke in a gruff whisper. “Just because I’m prime doesn’t mean I’m not human, okay? You ever think about anything other than yourself long enough to consider that us arbiters might have families too? That, each morning when we say goodbye to them, we know we might never see them again? And all so we can be insulted by people like you when we save their lives?”
“I didn’t—”
“You think I don’t know what you’re going through? Trust me, you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.”
I frowned as I studied her. There was something in the tone of her voice that set me on edge. I had always dismissed the idea outright. Gravita was too short to be her. Still, there was the fact she was one of the truly anonymous arbiters. No one, outside of other arbiters and her immediate family, knew who she was when she took off her suit. Maybe even other arbiters didn’t know her identity. To the best of my knowledge, she was a lone agent most of the time, eschewing the teamwork that most other arbiters preferred. Was it possible?
“What is it?” She let go of my front and took a step back.
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “Just... the way you talk. You remind me of someone I knew years ago. Back when I was a teenager. You didn’t grow up here in Chicago, did you?”
“No.” She sounded distracted as her visor swept over the crowd that was starting to gather around the two of us. “I grew up in L.A.”
“And you wouldn’t have a sister with your same powerset?”
“What?” She tilted her head to the side as her gaze returned to me. “What’s it to you?”
“Do you?”
“I’m the only prime in my family. Parents, siblings, children. They’re all normal. You knew someone with my powerset as a kid?”
I nodded, then frowned as I thought of something. “So you aren’t a Chicago native?”
She shook her head, her gaze still on me despite the fact there was now a sizable crowd around the two of us.
I sighed. “One of my daughters is obsessed with you. She’s going to be devastated to learn you aren’t actually from Chicago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She almost sounded amused. “If it helps any, you can tell her I went to Northwestern. I met my husband there.”
“That might help, actually.” I laughed. “She’s hoping to go there next year. I guess that also explains your color scheme too, huh? Purple and white?”
“You know, you’re the first person to notice that?”
“That’s hard to believe.” I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Well, I won’t hold it against you that you’re from California, just as long as you aren’t a mindless fan boy of Out-N-About.”
“First of all, do I look like a boy?” She sounded grumpy as she gestured down at herself.
“I’m a married man.” I raised my eyebrows and forced my gaze to stay on her visor. “So, I wouldn’t know if you were a boy or not.”
“I’m sure your wife would be glad to hear that.” That time, I was sure she was trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. I suppressed a smile. “But, come on. Have you had those burgers before? You can’t tell me they’re not good, alright?”
“Not as good as Five Fries,” I muttered.
She stared at me for a long moment, and then, unexpectedly, started to laugh.
After a clean-up crew arrived to help handle the wreckage in the street, Gravita flew off, leaving me with no idea what to do next. Technically, I could have gone back to work. I probably should have. My office building was only a few blocks away. I had been on my way back from lunch, as a matter of fact, when the hotel had gone down. But it had been a particularly horrible morning. I had spent it trying without success to catch up on the pile of reports that my manager had assigned me the day before, a pile that grew precipitously larger after one of my coworkers, Glen, visited my cubicle to drop off another stack of reports he needed finished. Two more coworkers had come around after that with hopeful stacks of their own in hand, but they both retreated without comment at the scowls I gave them as they approached. They should have known better than to approach me on a Friday with that kind of work. As it was, I already knew I was going to have to come in a few hours early on Monday to keep above water, something I hated doing. I didn’t think it was too much to want to see my children for a few minutes in the morning before they left for school.
I decided to just go home. I had already consigned myself to a few days of catch-up, and I was certain that, in my current state, I wasn’t going to get anything meaningful done anyway. My mind was still muddled between my brush with death and my subsequent discussion with Gravita as I drove home. As I got onto the I-Ninety, I decided to give my wife a call and let her know I was alright. In all the excitement of what had happened, it had somehow slipped my mind to give her an update. I frowned as I waited a half-minute for the call to connect.
It wasn’t that I expected Amber to be waiting by the phone for me at all times—even as oblivious as I was to everything she did as a homemaker, I still knew enough to know she was almost always too busy to chat with me most days. But she was usually pretty clued in to rogue attacks when they happened, and she almost always gave me a call shortly after any of them happened around the Loop to make sure I was alright. The more I thought about it, actually, the more uneasy I felt. Just as my curiosity was on the point of turning to worry, though, she picked up.
“Hey, Jake. I was about to call you. I just heard about the Marriott going down a few minutes ago. Are you alright?”
I couldn’t help but smile at hearing her voice, given everything that had just happened. It didn’t even matter that she sounded sick with worry and out of breath.
“I’m fine. I was actually walking on LaSalle when it went down.”
“What?!”
“I’m fine,” I repeated myself, hoping I could stop her from worrying too much with that up-front reassurance. “Everything’s fine. I don’t even have a scratch on me.”
“How did you—?”
“Gravita showed up.”
“Oh.”
I sensed that she wanted to say something more, and I let go of a deep breath. “It was fine.”
“Are you sure?” Her tone was light, but the skepticism there was unmistakable.
“Come on, Ambs. You know I don’t have a problem with arbiters. Just rogues.”
“Last week you went on for days about how the Mavericks should have faced jail time for their showdown with Pyrrhiphysics.”
“There were over two-million dollars in property damage claims from that little light show!” I spoke before I could stop myself, then took another deep breath before I spoke again. “Whatever. That was different.”
“So, you didn’t freak out when you came face to face with a prime?” Her skepticism had return
ed with a vengeance.
“Gravita was...” I struggled to find the right words. “Not what I expected. I mean, there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing that woman can’t do. Given all that, I didn’t expect her to be so...”
“What?”
“Sensible. Down-to-earth. Not like those pompous buffoons that are always dropping empty soundbites on the news.”
“Wow. I never thought I’d hear you say something so complimentary about an arbiter.” I could hear the mirth in her voice. “Seems like she left quite the impression on you. Should I be worried?”
“Oh, come on.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t really be my type. I mean, if she were a redhead, different story, right?”
“Excuse me?!”
“I mean, I do have a thing about strong women.”
“Do you want to rephrase those last few sentences?”
“What do you think the odds are that she is a redhead?”
“Jake.”
“You know, she did make a point of mentioning she was married. Maybe she did have the hots for me.”
“... I don’t even want to know how you came to that conclusion.”
“No, hear me out. It makes sense. It’s psychology, right? She wouldn’t mention she was married unless she were trying to remind herself that she—”
“You’re an idiot. You know that, right?”
“But I’m your idiot.”
There was a brief pause, and I could tell she was holding back laughter. “You know what? She might be your type, since nearest I can tell, your type is... well, pretty much anyone with boobs.”
“That’s not—”
“You said those exact words last week while we were watching Game of Thrones.”
“Oh. Right.”
“But I’m fairly sure her type wouldn’t be a middle-aged desk-jockey from Glenview.”
“Ouch.”
“Don’t worry.” She did laugh that time, then adopted a falsely sultry tone. “If you want, I can see about cosplaying as her. I mean, if that’s the sort of thing that turns you on.”
Prime Identity Page 1