REMEMBER JAMIE BAKER

by Kelly Oram

  My blood froze in my veins, and goose bumps formed all over my entire body. How could it be? It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t be this Chelsea’s Angel person; I’d been locked up in a lab most of my life.

  “Nobody knew who she was,” Motel Guy went on. “They called her Chelsea’s Angel because she used her superpowers to rescue a little girl named Chelsea, who’d been kidnapped. The girl mistook her for an angel and the name stuck. Chelsea’s Angel used to go all around the country helping people, until she died in that explosion south of town about six months ago.”

  The only explosion south of Las Vegas six months ago was the one I caused that had left me brain-damaged.

  This didn’t make sense; something wasn’t right. It didn’t add up. This girl couldn’t be me. It was impossible. But it couldn’t be coincidence, either. Was there someone else out there like me? Another girl who had my same powers? Was it possible I had a sister? Maybe I had a family who knew Visticorp had taken me. Perhaps this Chelsea’s Angel knew I was being held captive and was trying to break me out. Maybe we were trying to escape when the explosion happened.

  My heart started to race as I dared to hope.

  But my theory didn’t make sense, either. If this man was telling the truth—and why would he make it up?—Tony should have known this story. He would have known if someone was helping us escape at the time of the explosion.

  He also had to know about this Chelsea’s Angel person. If her story and death were common enough to have her necklace mass replicated, then Tony should know who she was. But he couldn’t know. He searched the Internet for days after he found me, keeping track of all news about the Visticorp explosion. And, he was obsessed with superheroes. Even if he was locked in a lab until six months ago, he would have heard about Chelsea’s Angel in his searching. He would have told me about her. This was a huge clue about my past.

  “Do you have Internet here?”

  The guy laughed and pointed behind me. “It’s a slow connection on a crap computer, but knock yourself out. Look up the Chelsea’s Angel Live Rescue on YouTube. It’s the only video of her in person. You’ll freak. I swear you’re like her twin.”

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded and handed me a key to room number seventeen. I didn’t bother taking my stuff to my room first. I sat down at the dinosaur of a computer and held my breath as I did a Google search for what I hoped would be the key to my identity. Twenty minutes later, Motel Guy brought me a cup of coffee. “See? I told you, you look like her.”

  I blinked at the monitor and gratefully accepted the caffeine. “It’s crazy.”

  I didn’t just look like her. I was her. I had to be. She looked identical to me, with the exception of my craptastic green hair. She even had the yellow eyes, and they glowed when she used her powers, like mine do.

  I’d spent the last six months in a constant state of confusion, but as I sat there reading article after article about Chelsea’s Angel and the explosion at the Visticorp lab, my perplexity reached an all-time high. Chelsea’s Angel was everywhere. She was beloved by everyone, and even worshipped as a saint by some. She was the most popular Halloween costume last October, and she had her own action figure.

  There were also dozens of articles linking Chelsea’s Angel to the Visticorp explosion. There was a reporter she’d come to rescue that day who blew the whistle on all of Visticorps’s human lab testing. There was so much information on the Internet about Visticorp—information I’d tried to find a hundred times at home that had never come up in any of my searches before.

  I’d been trying to put the pieces together since I sat down, and the only answer I could come up with was one I hated. Tony lied to me. It was the only explanation. Tony was a computer genius. He told me I could only ever use the computer he’d given me because he put special firewalls on it to keep anyone from hacking it. But now I couldn’t help wondering if he’d actually put special restrictions on it that kept me from discovering any of this.

  He kept me so close, so sheltered. I thought he was just paranoid and overprotective. Obviously he was scared of Visticorp finding us—I sincerely believed that—but it had to be more than that. He knew something, and he didn’t want me to figure it out. He was lying to me and using my lack of memory against me. But why? And how could he do that?

  The longer I sat there, the more I felt certain I was right, and the stupider I felt for not seeing the signs. Everything he’d ever said and done had been manipulative. I felt betrayed, and I needed answers. I called him, but it went straight to voice mail. Fuming, I hung up. There was no point in leaving him a message. He must have been pretty mad at me to have turned his phone off. This was probably a conversation that needed to be had in person, anyway. Assuming I could accomplish that without killing him.

  “You okay?” I jumped, startled by the sound of the voice behind me. I’d forgotten that the motel clerk was still standing there. “You look majorly pissed.”

  My phone beeped as my voice mail updated, informing me I had over a dozen messages. I’d turned the stupid thing off when I left the house that morning because I knew the calls would start coming the second Tony realized I was gone. I’d left for my doctor’s appointment without telling him about it, and I’d never taken off like that before. I’d felt guilty about worrying him all day, but now… He probably hadn’t been concerned that I could be in danger; he was probably just afraid I’d go someplace, be recognized, and realize he was keeping secrets from me.

  I nearly crushed the phone in my hand, and the electricity in the building blitzed as I lost control of my temper. The lights brightened until they popped, and the computer monitor in front of me exploded. We were plunged into darkness as we both ducked for cover. “Whoa.” Motel Guy whistled. “That was weird. You okay?”

  Actually, it wasn’t weird at all. That’s what always happened when I lost control of my temper, and at the moment my emotions were spiraling out of control. “I’m fine.” It wasn’t a total lie. Physically, I was all right. Emotionally… Well, I think the fried motel speaks for itself.

  I was angry, frustrated, and confused, but I was equally as hurt. I sat there in the dark with my eyes closed because I knew if I opened them they’d light up the room better than any flashlight, and that effect wouldn’t be one I could write off as colored contacts. If I went all Lite-Brite, Motel Guy would realize I didn’t just look like his dead supergirl.

  “Must have been a big power surge,” he muttered, looking out the front window of the building. “It looks like the whole block is out.”

  Oops. I definitely needed to cool off a little before I went back and confronted Tony. I took a few deep breaths until I knew I my eyes weren’t glowing anymore and I wasn’t itching to blast someone with a lightning bolt. As I calmed myself, my senses sharpened, as they usually do, and I noticed voices whispering somewhere outside the building. “Confirmed sighting. We’ve found the girl.”

  Tony’s extreme paranoia kicked in reflexively, and my head whipped toward the front of the building. Before I could get a look out the window at what I was up against or get Motel Guy to safety, three guys came busting into the building. And I mean they literally busted in. One ripped the door right off its hinges. Another jumped through the big picture window in the front of the building, and the last actually busted right through the wall.

  They all came straight for me. I tried to dodge them, but they were too fast. They surrounded me, and one of them grabbed me from behind. I tried to break out of his grip, but for the first time that I could remember, I wasn’t strong enough. I’d never seen anyone move that fast or use that kind of strength before. Well, besides myself. And now these superfreaks had me.

  I let my energy rise to the surface of my skin and waited for my captor to let go of me, but nothing happened. My electricity didn’t hurt him at all. He was wearing some sort of protective suit that kept me from frying him. So not cool.

  Realizing that I was basically defenseless against the guy, I start
ed thrashing in his arms and kicking at any part of him I could reach. I even tried throwing my head back into the man’s face, but he dodged my blow as easily as I would have ducked his.

  I was stuck, locked in the arms of a man just as strong as me, while the other two moved in front of me. One of the men grinned menacingly. “You’re not so tough up against other supers, are you, girlie?”

  Sadly, he was right. It had been embarrassingly easy for them to grab me when the playing field was even. But it’s not like having superstrength automatically makes someone a ninja. I’d never been in a battle before.

  “Excuse me for not being a trained fighter.”

  Laughing, the man reached up with his gloved hand and ran a finger down the side of my face. “Did you miss me, gorgeous? Maybe now that I’m as strong as you, we should have a little fun before I take you back.”

  I jerked my face away from his finger.

  A gun cocked. Motel Guy stood behind the counter, with a pistol pointed at my captors. “Let go of her!”

  In the blink of an eye, one of the men had disabled the weapon and was holding the confused man in his arms. The poor guy was going to get hurt for trying to help me. I couldn’t let that happen. “Touch him, and I’ll kill you.”

  All three of the strangers laughed at my threat.

  I tried again to break free of the man holding me, but failed. He tightened his grip so hard that he started to crush my chest. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out in pain.

  The man standing in front of me watched my struggle with a sick sort of amusement. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he said, balling up his hand. The rubber of his glove squeaked as he tightened his fist. His knuckles may have been padded because of the electricity-proof gloves, but I had no doubt it would still hurt when he punched me.

  “Lorenz,” the man holding me warned. “What are you doing? You know Donovan will go ballistic if you do any unnecessary damage to her.”

  I knew the name Donovan. James Donovan was head of Visticorp. Tony had told me a lot about him and the kinds of things he’d done to us in the labs. That meant these guys were with Visticorp.

  “I owe her a shattered knee,” Lorenz growled to his companion.

  He only took his eyes off me for a second, but it was just the distraction I needed. Thanks to my captor holding me so tightly around my upper body, I was able to pick up both of my feet and kick them straight out into my would-be assailant’s chest before he could dodge it. I landed the kick with so much force that Lorenz went flying backward right through what was left of the front of the motel.

  The impact of my kick also knocked the guy holding me off his feet and we crashed to the ground. I broke free from his hold. He snagged me again, but couldn’t grab both of my arms before I got a grip on his hair.

  “You really should have made a mask or a helmet to go with your nifty suit,” I said as I let my energy break loose. I was so amped up that I might have overdone it just a tad with the voltage as I roasted the guy. His entire body locked up so tight that he couldn’t even scream.

  Motel Guy’s mystified gasp snapped me out of my rage, and I realized that if I didn’t let go of the man soon I would kill him. I was tempted—it was self-defense, and he deserved it—but I wasn’t a killer.

  When I dropped him, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out. I barely had time to catch my breath before the third guy threw Motel Guy across the room and tackled me. He moved so fast I didn’t even have time to brace myself for the hit.

  He pounded me into the ground so hard that my head made an indent in the concrete pad beneath the linoleum floor. Pain shot through my whole body, making things go black for a moment. When I came to my senses, the man was on top of me with his gloved hands wrapped around my neck.

  “I don’t care if Donovan wants you alive,” he said as he choked the life out of me with his superstrong fingers. “You are too dangerous. He’s a fool to think he’ll ever be able to control you.”

  My lungs were on fire. I clawed at his hands, but I was too weak from hitting my head so hard to do any damage. I reached for the man’s face next—if I could just come into contact with his skin—but he was twice my size, and it was like he had gorilla arms. I couldn’t reach him.

  There was only one more thing I could think to do. If I accomplished it, I would kill the man. I didn’t want to take a life, but at this point it was him or me, and I wasn’t in the mood to die right then.

  Just as I can manipulate the electricity in the atmosphere around me, I can direct the energy in my body. When I build up enough of it, I can release it in the form of lightning bolts. It is seriously a cool power to have. I’ve always been envious of Tony’s telekinesis, but I wouldn’t trade my lightning for it.

  I didn’t want to use my lightning right now, but I had no other choice. I was dying. The superfreak was strangling me to death. My vision started to blur into darkness and my arm felt as heavy as a freight train, but I lifted it and aimed my hand at the only part of my attacker that was not covered by his special suit—his head. I pushed all the energy in my body to my arm, until my palm was practically on fire.

  Just before I released a bolt of lightning into the man’s face, he fell to the floor with a thud, completely unconscious. I sucked in a breath, welcoming the sting of air as it filled my lungs. As I coughed and tried to regain my wits, a boy suddenly appeared standing over the unconscious man, holding a tranquilizer gun in his hands and wearing a smile the size of Texas. “Hey, Angel. Long time no see.”

  I must have hit my head harder than I thought, because I swear the boy had just appeared out of thin air. Like, poof and he was there. I say boy, because that’s what he was. Sort of. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. He was a little stocky with brown hair, brown eyes, and a light dusting of freckles. “Neat trick, eh?” he said as he nudged the unconscious man with his foot. He sounded like Hugh Jackman—or rather, Hugh Jackman if the Australian native were going through puberty.

  He checked the pulse of the first guy I’d zapped into unconsciousness, then shot a tranquilizer dart into his neck. “Better safe than sorry,” he explained with another grin. “These are horse tranquilizers. He’ll be out for hours.”

  “There was one more,” I croaked, my throat burning from the effort to speak.

  “Your friend outside? Nah, I got him first. You made it easy for me, though. He was still out cold on the front sidewalk when we drove up. Nice job.” He glanced over his shoulder and shouted, “We’re clear!”

  Before I could ask any questions, a whole team of soldiers in full body armor carrying assault rifles flooded the motel. Even though these guys had just helped me, they looked like military. I didn’t want to be captured by the government any more than I wanted to be taken by Visticorp. I needed to get out of here.

  I started to sit up, fighting against the raging headache of my first superconcussion, and was gently pushed back down by one of the soldiers. I would have fought him, but there was no point. The second I moved, my stomach rolled with a wave of nausea, and my vision clouded over with dark spots. I groaned and let my eyes fall shut. I was either going to throw up or pass out or both.

  “Hang on, Sunshine. The medic’s coming.”

  Startled by the intimate way the stranger spoke to me, I forced my eyes back open to get a look at the guy helping me. Move over Chris Evans, I’d just found my new poster child for gorgeous. The guy was about my own age, and well built with broad shoulders. He had golden blond hair and big, beautiful blue eyes that I instantly found myself lost in. It wasn’t just that they were the color of a clear sky; it was the way they drank in the sight of me, as if they’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  “Who are you?”

  The younger boy popped into my vision over Mr. Beautiful’s shoulder. “We’re the ACEs,” he chirped. “This guy with the dopey smile on his face is Ryan Miller.”

  Ryan Miller. My gaze snapped back to Ryan, and when we made eye contact, the look on his fa
ce changed from concern to one that turned my stomach inside out. He stared at me as if I were the goddess Aphrodite and I had just magically enslaved his heart for all eternity. The longing in his expression was truly startling. “Hi,” he breathed. He sounded as if he’d had the air knocked out of his lungs.

  “Um…hi?” This guy was seriously throwing me off with his intensity. It was hard to think with him looking at me like that.

  “He also answers to Loverboy, Romeo, or Goldilocks,” the teenage boy continued to explain as Ryan and I stared at one another. “And I’m Tyson, a.k.a. Invisidude.”

  That pulled my gaze from Ryan’s beautiful baby blues back to the boy. “Invisidude? Seriously?”

  “Yeah, as in ‘now you see me…’” He vanished right before my eyes and called out from the open air, “And now you don’t.”

  That’s when I realized how he’d simply appeared before; he’d been invisible. He was like me. He had powers. “What?” I gasped. “You’re… How…?”

  Before they could explain, another man knelt down in front of me and shined a flashlight into my eyes. “Are you dizzy?” he asked while another guy began probing my head.

  I’d have rolled my eyes at the idiotic question if my head didn’t hurt so badly. “I just got slammed through a concrete floor. What do you think?”

  I glared at the other guy, who kept pushing on my head. “There’s a thing called personal space, buddy, and you’re totally abusing it. Touch me again, and you’ll learn what a microwave dinner feels like.”

  Both medics immediately backed off, and rightfully so. I am one scary woman when I’m really pissed off. I wasn’t bluffing, either. If that guy pushed on one more bruise, I’d have fried him.

  Ryan didn’t move, though. He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t back away. He wasn’t scared of me at all. In fact, he chuckled at my threat. It was annoying, and considering my current mood, I was tempted to zap the grin off his face no matter how nice his smile was. He grinned at my scowl. “They’re paramedics, Angel. They’re just trying to make sure you’re okay.”