Unbreakable Storm

by Patrick Dugan

  My head still spun with everything she had said. “Who is the cursed one?”

  She held up her hand, stalling the rush of questions. “I know nothing of what I said, and in my mind’s eye, I can only see faint images of your possibilities, so please don’t ask.”

  Considering this, I wondered how she could tell me so much and not know anything. “What images do you see?”

  Her sightless gaze peered past me, focused on something in the distance, her face absent of all expression. I turned to see, but there wasn’t anything there. I turned back to her, puzzled as to what she was doing.

  She spoke as if in a trance. “I see a man with a mustache; he is in great pain. Your enemies are holding him near a metal man with a rope, but you should not go alone.” The slackness of her features withdrew. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more as I can tell this is of great importance to you.”

  Any information could be useful though a metal man could be anywhere. “Thank you, Eiraf. I appreciate you trying.” She had to be talking about Waxenby. It weighed on me that the Syndicate had taken him.

  She nodded once. “Thomas, you should return to your people. I wish you the best, though I have a feeling life will be difficult and painful for you.” The symbol flared a deep green, and the vortex opened before me.

  I bowed to Eiraf, not knowing why, but it felt right. “Thank you.”

  She smiled a sad smile. “May the Goddess watch over and protect you.”

  With the way things were going, I’d need all the protection I could get.

  5

  I stepped out of the vortex and into the storeroom in Castle. Blaze leaned against the wall, a bit greener than usual, holding his duffel bag. If his hair had stood on end, he couldn’t have looked more freaked out. His eyes darted around the room as if trying to reestablish himself in the real world.

  I chuckled to myself. The first trip through the vortex did it to just about everyone. “You okay?”

  He nodded rapidly. “Dude, it’s a bad trip for sure. I think I’ll stick with the portals from now on.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, they are much less intense.” I paused and decided to ask my question. “How long have you waited for me?”

  Blaze frowned. “If I hadn’t moved, you would have stepped on me coming out, so not long, why?”

  I shook my head. “Time gets funny in there.” I gestured to where the vortex’s door had been moments ago. “It seemed to take a lot longer to cross than usual. I thought I heard voices on my trip back.”

  Blaze’s already wide eyes grew larger. “Dude, totally freaky. I think I would have lost it. The trip had been bad enough without any weird shit going down.”

  The stomping of boots rang out as Abby turned the corner. She wore her normal combat boots, black pants, and shirt. Mom must have helped her dye her hair half neon blue and the other half purple. It looked cool, but I would miss the red/black combination.

  “Blaze!” she shouted as she ran over and hugged him. Blaze and my mom were the only ones who ever got that kind of reaction. Everyone else got stern indifference. On the bright side, the last time I’d seen Abby, she was beating the snot out of me; I’ll take indifference.

  Blaze lit up. “Hey Abby! How are you girl?”

  “I’m good. I hear you are going to teach Sparky how to fight so he can actually give me a workout.” She laughed, but I caught her as she watched me from the corner of her eye.

  I laughed along. Her ragging on me signaled the truce had taken. “Really, I just didn’t want to mess up her makeup.”

  “Sparky, the day you mess up my makeup is the day I retire.” She smirked at me and pushed my shoulder. I saw it coming, so I didn’t fall on my ass. With age comes great wisdom. I steadied myself, wondering if I should tell anyone about what had happened but decided to wait until I caught up with Alyx. The magical realm was his turf, and he’d have an answer.

  “On that note, we should take Blaze to see everyone,” I said. No sense standing in the storeroom when we could go sit down. My unexpected side trip had left me drained. Sleep sounded like the most wonderful thing in the universe, but it would have to wait.

  We exited the storeroom and took the stairs up to the hallway that connected to the top floor of the living areas. We stepped through the emergency doors, crossed the intervening space, and entered into the living room.

  Marcel’s head came up as we entered, a smile blossoming on his face. “Blaze!” He stepped over to shake Blaze’s hand enthusiastically. Blaze grinned as he tried to retrieve his hand.

  “Marcel, you look great. Ready to start training again?” Blaze asked innocently.

  That stopped Marcel cold. The shaking stopped as his mouth dropped into a frown. “Well, my Gift is computers, so I really don’t need to learn to fight.”

  Blaze shook his head. “It’s a dangerous world for all of us. If someone gets in here, fighting may be your only choice. Susan is going to learn as well.”

  Mom laughed and grabbed Blaze into a huge hug. “Eugene, we are lucky to have you here.” She stopped and held him at arm’s length, studying his features. “You look tired. Long trip?”

  “I’m fine, nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” He turned and faced Dad. “Cyclone, good to see you.”

  Dad shook his hand. “Thanks, Blaze. I’m glad you agreed to come. You can call me Mike now since my secret identity isn’t so secret anymore.”

  “No, sir. You’ll always be Ranger to me. You fought well in the Gauntlet.” Blaze tossed his bag on the floor next to a leather recliner and sat.

  Mom and Dad returned to the couch. “I had a lot of extra help.” He’d been pissed when we had surrendered, but the plan had worked, except for Wendi’s death. I pushed the grief down, concentrating on Blaze.

  Abby and Marcel grabbed the other couch as I dropped into the chair next to Blaze. His gaze traveled to each of us. “You did.”

  When he got to me, his eyes filled with sympathy. I knew what was coming and steeled myself for it. “I’m sorry about Wendi. I know you all loved her.”

  I choked up but refused to let it out here. Mom sprang into action. “Thank you, Eugene. She was a wonderful young lady, and if not for her, I’d be dead.”

  Dad held Mom’s hand. “She fought like a tiger,” Dad said. He chuckled a bit. “When I suggested she hang back, she blessed me out. I’d have ten of her on my team if I could.”

  Abby glanced at me, a mixture of worry and anger flashing across her features. “She refused to back down. I’m proud she was my friend. Though her choice in men left a lot to be desired.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, and she responded by sticking out her tongue at me. I’d lost Wendi; I couldn’t take losing Abby. Marcel had his eyes affixed to me, waiting to see if I was okay.

  Blaze’s face twisted up like he had eaten a bad Skittle. “Where’s Jon?”

  Dad sighed. “Jon took Wendi’s death hard, which we all understood. He decided it would be better if he left than stay with us. Dresden was compromised, so we came to Castle.”

  “Too bad. He seemed like a cool dude.” Blaze rubbed his chin before he spoke again. “So, Cyclone, what’s the play?”

  Dad glanced sideways at Mom, who adjusted herself on the couch. “Play? No more plays. We are going to stay underground until the Protectorate loses interest. Afterward, we can get fake papers and settle somewhere and try to live in peace.”

  Blaze barked out a wet, harsh cough. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his mouth. He folded it and pushed it back in his pocket. “Sorry, allergies this time of year are tough. So why train to fight if there’s no plan? What about Oliver? Are you going to leave him to the Grim Reaper to turn over for execution?”

  Abby tensed, leaning forward as if ready to pounce. Marcel slid away from her, just in case she jumped off the couch.

  Dad stood. I’d noticed he preferred to be on his feet during confrontations, and this conversation was heading toward a fight, fast. “Oliver shouldn
’t have done anything but get the kids and Susan to safety. Grim Reaper is using him as bait, and we can’t expose ourselves to any more losses. If anyone goes to find him, it will be me and me alone.”

  “Who are you to say we aren’t going?” Abby shot back. “We owe it to Waxenby to get him out. He gave himself up to protect the rest of the team. Armageddon would have killed us all if not for him.”

  Dad stiffened. I don’t think he expected to have this fight again so soon. He had underestimated Abby’s commitment to getting Waxenby back. “I am the only one of us to have ever been on a combat team. Your powers are new and aren’t fully trained yet.”

  Abby leaped to her feet. “I fought shoulder-to-shoulder with you in the Gauntlet. I can hold my own.”

  “That was different.” Dad said, hands on hips as if he’d been declared the victor.

  Ding! Welcome to round one, folks.

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Different how? Because you had no choice but to save the poor, little girl that had been stupid enough to get caught?”

  To Dad’s credit, he knew he’d blundered in his tactics. “Let me explain.”

  Her head shook vigorously, hair swaying with the movement. “Or was it that you were faking out the Protectorate when you…”

  “Enough!” Dad held his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t have lived without you all. This will be different. We will be engaging with other Gifted, not robots or Norm troops. They’ve fought for years together.”

  I pointed to Blaze. “Isn’t that why Blaze is here? He can train us in combat and you in strategy.”

  Dad looked to Mom, his life preserver.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said softly. “I agree with them. Oliver doesn’t deserve to die any more than you.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter in this case,” Dad responded. “We don’t know where they are holding Oliver, if he’s even—”

  “He’s alive,” Abby said, her voice deep and gravelly. I noticed her face reddening. “I saw him as the Reclaimers were restraining me. Reaper’s goons hit him with a suppressor and dragged him away.”

  Dad paced back and forth. “When we find Oliver, we will devise a plan to extract him. There will be no solo missions to find Oliver or even the score with Reaper or any other harebrained plan the three of you feel the need to launch. Understood?”

  He looked directly at me. I could see why people feared Dad. “Understood, sir.”

  Abby and Marcel chimed in. Abby returned to her seat, her skin returning to its normal tone. I felt bad for the person who fought her at full bore. I still wore the bruises, and she likes me most of the time.

  Once Dad had said his piece, he bid us goodnight, signaling our dismissal.

  On the way out, I motioned to Marcel as we headed down the hall. After a couple of corners, I said, “I need you to look into something for me, but you need to keep it quiet.”

  Marcel struck a hurt expression. “Bruh, when did I ever roll over on you?”

  “Ummm, never?”

  “Exactly. What can Mr. Wizard provide you?”

  I laughed. “You really need to lay off the old TV shows.”

  “Nada. Bruh, this place has every episode of almost every show ever made in storage. It would be like spitting on a masterpiece to ignore it.”

  I sped up the pace; no sense chancing being overheard. “So, something happened with the doorbell.” I proceeded to tell him about Eiraf and the weird things she said. “My guess is they are holding Waxenby near the metal man. Can you see if you can figure out where it is?”

  He stroked his still stubbly chin. “Hmmm, Oz?”

  I groaned, loudly. His sense of humor left a lot to be desired some days.

  “But I’ll add it to the algorithmic search I’m running. Can’t have too many data points.”

  I groaned again. Having a geek for a best friend was trying at times.

  The next morning at o-dark-thirty, we assembled in the training room. Abby sat on the bench running along the wall, nursing a cup of coffee, as Blaze warmed up. I flopped next to Abby and cracked open a Mountain Dew while I watched Blaze. A commotion arose in the hallway, loud enough for Blaze to stop and see what was going on.

  Dad strode in, pushing a protesting Marcel in front of him. Mom followed up, carrying his backpack. “I don’t see why I need to train; I already saved my bruh with a chair.”

  Dad shot me a questioning glance.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Marcel, don’t be a baby,” Abby said in a mocking tone. “On the battlefield, there won’t be chairs lying around.”

  “Well, I’m sure I can find something to hit a goon with. I think outside the box.”

  Blaze laughed. “Wouldn’t it be easier to know how to protect yourself than rely on luck?”

  Marcel shook his head, the afro swaying with the motion. “Me? Fighting is totally FUBAR. Bruh has the power-ups, not me.”

  Dad made a face. “Was any of that English?”

  “Marcel has a unique relationship with language,” Mom said, tossing Marcel’s backpack on the floor next to him. “Well, you all have fun, I’ll have breakfast ready when you return.”

  Blaze held up a hand. “Not so fast, Miss America. Everyone trains in case the worst happens.” Blaze grabbed a bag from under the bench. He pulled out a box and handed it to Mom.

  She shook her head. “Eugene, the only fighting I do is in court. I’m not Gifted.”

  Blaze shrugged. “Neither am I, but it never stopped me.”

  “Mom, you just got done telling me how righteous this is,” Marcel chimed in. “Are you joshin’ me?”

  She shot Blaze a look which would have incinerated a lesser man. “No, Marcel, it is important. I guess breakfast will wait.” She opened the box, revealing a jet-black pistol. “Eugene, I don’t do firearms, nor am I licensed to carry one.”

  “Dude, I doubt the Reclaimers will ask for your carry permit.” The surfer personality left as the drill instructor appeared. “Lesson number one: this is a war. The Protectorate already used you as bait once. You,” he stopped to eyeball everyone, “all of you, will fight with whatever is at hand until you are dead or incapacitated.”

  Dad nodded in agreement. “Blaze is right. We can’t have a weak link. If we fight, everyone has to be able to protect themselves.”

  “Okay, down to training.” Blaze handed each of us a pistol in a holster. “These are Mark 23s. They hold twelve rounds and have the laser sight attached for easier aiming. I expect everyone to have their weapon on them at all times.”

  “Why would I need a gun?” I asked. “I can throw lightning at anyone who comes at me.”

  Blaze rubbed his face. “Tommy, do you remember any of your training?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Why do we learn many styles of fighting?”

  I thought back to the sessions at the Secret Lair. “Because every style has its place.”

  “What happens if a disruptor band catches you?” He turned to Abby.

  She growled. “It takes all my strength. I can’t fight anymore.”

  “Wrong!” Blaze snapped. “You weren’t trained to fight without it. There will be times immense strength is useless. If I’m on the other end of the room, you can’t hurt me, but a well-placed shot could.”

  Abby grunted. “This is a waste. Powell’s thugs got lucky. Next time I won’t be so nice.” She stood and headed for the door.

  Mom spoke up. “Abby, you…”

  Blaze interrupted her. “I tell you what. You hit me, and you are free to go.”

  With a harsh laugh, she turned around. “Blaze I don’t want to hurt you. It’s not a fair fight.”

  He smiled back at her. “I agree. It’s not fair to you, but sometimes lessons are hard to learn.”

  Dad stepped between them. “Okay, this isn’t necessary. We are all training together.”

  “No, Ranger. This is absolutely needed.” He moved over to the center of the room away from the rest of us. �
��Abby, shall we?”

  Mom and Dad exchanged a glance then took seats on the bench next to me. Marcel hesitantly joined us. Abby hadn’t seen Blaze fight before, but we had. What Blaze gave up in size, he made up for in speed.

  Abby stopped before Blaze.

  “One hit is all it takes. Begin when you are ready.”

  “Blaze, seriously, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He smiled at her. “You won’t. In fact, you won’t touch me. I’d be more worried about Marcel with his chair.”

  With a low growl, Abby flew at him, arms outstretched. Blaze slid to the side, tripping her. She arced forward, rolling into the fall and was back on her feet in an instant. She pivoted, breaking into a run. At the last second, she leapt, both feet pointed at Blaze’s chest.

  Blaze’s knees bent as he arced backward, limbo style. Abby sped over him and landed behind him. He stood facing her again.

  “Just because you’re fast, doesn’t mean I need your training.” She circled her opponent, crouched low and looking for an opening.

  Blaze turned with her but made no move to attack.

  Instead of speed, she went for a brute force attack. She threw a punch at Blaze’s head, which he flowed around. She reversed it, attempting to backhand him. He stepped back, caught her wrist in an extremely painful hold, and twisted her arm. She howled in pain, and he increased the pressure. She pulled back her left foot to kick him, but he swept the right leg, using her unbalanced pose against her. She toppled to the floor. Blaze glided around, pulling her arm with him, eliciting more howls.

  “Are we done?” Blaze asked calmly.

  Abby thrashed, trying to break free, but it only made the pain worse. Finally, she screamed uncle, and he let go. She clutched her arm to her chest, shrinking away from Blaze. Mom crossed the distance to check on Abby, speaking in low tones to her.

  “Okay, do we need any more lessons, or can we begin training?”

  Training sounded great given the alternative.

  6