REMEMBER JAMIE BAKER

by Kelly Oram

  Ryan moved toward me again and I thrust my hand out, ready to use my electricity if I needed to. “I don’t care who any of you are. Don’t come any closer.”

  Unexplainable hurt flashed across Ryan’s face that was so genuine I actually felt guilty, but I didn’t have time to try and figure out what his deal was. I scanned the room and turned my attention to the man I deemed the leader. The harsh-looking guy had dark eyes and sharp features, with salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to his head. He stood in front of me with his arms folded tightly across his chest, in a crisply-pressed highly-decorated uniform. Definitely the man in charge. He appraised me warily, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes that made me nervous. “If you think I’m going to let you take me away to study or experiment on, then you’re not as smart as you look. Visticorp didn’t get me, and you won’t, either.”

  I let my energy take over completely until it was crackling on the surface of my skin. Several of the soldiers in the room gasped and a few stepped back, raising their weapons as if they considered me a threat—a much more appropriate response to my anger than Ryan’s laughter had been.

  Neither Ryan nor his boss flinched. “We only want to help you,” Ryan said quietly. “Please trust us.”

  You know what word you won’t see in my personality notebook? Idiot. I barked out a harsh laugh and shook my head. “You’re military.”

  “We’re the good guys, Angel,” Tyson—I refused to call him Invisidude—said.

  I looked around the room at all the soldiers who still had their weapons trained on me, and then glared at the leader. “All I see is a group of guys pointing guns at me.”

  After a moment of tense silence, Ryan sighed and looked at his boss. “She has a point, sir.”

  The leader considered Ryan’s words, and then nodded. “Everyone stand down.”

  All of the soldiers in the room lowered their guns. It was a start, but it wasn’t good enough. “Drop them,” I ordered.

  The man in charge held his ground. “That’s not safe, Angel. There are more supersoldiers where your attackers came from, and they’re probably not that far away. We need to leave, and we’d like you to come with us, at least for now. Just to talk.”

  Trusting is definitely not a word you’ll find written in my personality notebook either, but he made a convincing argument about the supersoldiers as he’d called them, and the kid, at least, was like me. Still, I needed a little more info before I went anywhere with them. “Who are you?”

  “Major Kenneth Wilks.” He puffed up his chest. “U.S. Northern Command, ACE division.”

  “ACE division?” I didn’t bother to hide my skepticism. “Most of my knowledge about the inner workings of the U.S. government might come from the Jason Bourne movies, but still, that acronym sounds as legit as S.H.I.E.L.D.”

  The soldiers in the room snickered, and Ryan winked, grinning at me as though he thought I was the sun, the moon, and the stars. The major’s lips quirked. “ACE. Augmented Capability Enforcement. We handle all cases dealing with individuals who have enhanced physical, mental, or supernatural capabilities, like yourself.”

  Well, that was highly disturbing, and strangely exciting at the same time. “There are enough of us out there that we require our own branch of the military?”

  The major shook his head. “We’re a very small organization, Angel, and completely top secret, of course. But we’re well funded and powerful. PACs—or persons of augmented capabilities—such as yourself, are truly rare.”

  My eyes flashed to Tyson, and he gave me a wicked grin.

  “The ACEs’ primary interest is in finding PACs and recruiting them to help us fight crime and protect the country,” Major Wilks continued. “But we’re also the nation’s defense against them whenever it’s necessary—like with your superpowered friends here.” He gestured to the unconscious men I’d fought.

  The ACE division sounded awesome—if they really did what Major Wilks claimed they did. I’d always wanted to be able to use my powers—seriously, what good is having a whole bunch of awesome gifts if I can’t ever put them to use?—but Tony was so anal about staying hidden.

  One time after Tony showed me The Avengers, I suggested we make up our own secret identities and give the whole superhero thing a try. He completely freaked. He wouldn’t even pretend to consider it. I asked him if paranoia was one of his superpowers, and he got all pissy. That was the first time I broke up with him. I wonder what he’d think of the ACEs.

  If Major Wilks could earn my trust, he’d have himself a new recruit, but I tried not to look as eager as I felt. “And what do you want from me? How did you find me?”

  “We’ve been looking for you for a long time, Angel. You and I have a common enemy, and I could really use your help.”

  My body stiffened as I realized exactly what he was saying. “You’re looking for Visticorp.”

  Major Wilks’s face hardened into something frightening. “Visticorp is gone. You destroyed it. But we believe James Donovan escaped and is working with a new partner, trying to create an army of superpowered thugs. He’s stealing innocent soldiers to use as his guinea pigs, and they don’t all survive.”

  That horrifying thought made me shudder, but I brought my face into a scowl that matched his fierce expression. I knew, without a shred of doubt, that if this man was going after the people who stole my memories, then I was going to do everything in my power to help him. Major Wilks saw the bloodlust in my eyes for what it was and curved his lips up into a smile.

  “Fine,” I said. “I will leave with you right now and listen to what you have to say, but if you or any of your men try anything funny, I will do whatever is necessary to get myself to safety. Believe me when I say you don’t want that fight.”

  I was surprised to see the man smile, even after my obvious threat. “No, Angel, I don’t want that fight. I hope to be allies.”

  Giving me another smile, he looked around the motel and barked, “Get this mess cleaned up, and get those PACs in the trucks. ACES, MOVE!” He pointed a finger at Ryan and said, “You take care of her.”

  “With pleasure, sir.” The grin Ryan gave his superior caused a bundle of nerves to explode in my stomach. Then he turned that devastating smile on me, and my mouth went dry. “Time to go.” He scooted closer very slowly and said, “I’m going to help you up now. Please don’t zap me.”

  I let him help me to my feet. When I immediately started to swoon, he scooped me into his arms. Definitely not a bad place to be. Maybe it was the superconcussion talking, but as he carried me out of the motel, I couldn’t resist teasing him. “My hero.”

  Ryan chuckled as if enjoying some private joke, and murmured, “For once.”

  He shuffled me into the back of a military truck, where we waited for the ACEs to detain the three superthugs and explain the mess to the local authorities. The truck was one of those canvas-covered trucks with two long benches on either side. I couldn’t see anything outside, but I could still hear what was going on. The ACEs worked quickly and efficiently to clean up the scene. They gave the cops a watered down version of the story—one that had nothing to do with superpowers and that sounded a lot more like three escaped convicts had busted up the joint looking for cash.

  Poor Motel Guy was carted off to the local hospital in an ambulance, but the medics said he was going to be okay. Major Wilks told the cops that he’d send someone to question the guy after he was feeling better. I doubted he’d remember much, considering he was still unconscious.

  My existence was kept out of the equation altogether. The cops never even knew I was there.

  After ten or fifteen minutes, a handful of soldiers began to pile in the truck around me. I muttered a quiet thanks when one of them handed me my purse and another set my suitcases in the truck, suddenly feeling a lot more awkward as I realized they planned on taking me with them for an extended stay. But then, it’s not like I had anyplace better to go. I wasn’t going back to live with Tony after learnin
g how he’d lied to me.

  Ryan and Tyson claimed the seats on either side of me. Ryan scooted in closer than necessary, leaving zero space between us. When I questioned him with a flat look, he gave me a shameless smile and slipped his arm around my waist, tucking me neatly to his side. “You still seem pretty dizzy to me. Can’t have you falling over while I’m responsible for you. The major would have my hide.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, but I didn’t have the energy—or, if I’m being completely honest, the desire—to pull away from him. Giving up, I relaxed against his shoulder and let my eyes fall shut. I released a slow, deep breath, hoping it might calm some of the pounding in my head.

  “I can’t believe that worked,” one of the other soldiers muttered, making everyone in the back of the truck laugh.

  “Major doesn’t call him Romeo for nothing,” another joked.

  I could practically feel the cocky smirk wash over Ryan’s face and was compelled to burst his bubble. “It didn’t work,” I drawled lazily, not bothering to lift my head from his shoulder or even open my eyes. “I just don’t have the energy to argue. Please tell me one of you has some painkillers.”

  “I’ve got some aspirin.”

  I opened my eyes and found the soldier sitting across from me holding out a small, white bottle. Another soldier produced some water. As I swallowed a handful of pills, I looked around the truck at the group of men that called themselves the ACEs. There were eight of them in total, not including Major Wilks, who was riding in the front of the truck with the driver. Their ethnicities varied, but they were all guys and all in obvious excellent physical health. They weren’t all gorgeous, but they were the kind of soldiers that would make a girl join the Army just for the chance to see them shirtless every now and then.

  I guessed their ages ranged from their mid-twenties to early forties. Besides Tyson, in all his teenager glory, Ryan was clearly the baby of the group. He was also by far the best looking of the bunch. Seriously, how could one guy be so hot?

  Ryan caught me staring and smirked as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. I tore my eyes away from him and continued my study of the other men. They all met my eyes as I swept my gaze around the truck—checking me out as much as I was checking them out. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and awe. A few of their smiles were even flirtatious, though none of them said a word.

  Finally, the soldier who’d given me the medicine braved breaking the silence. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Angel.” His tentative smile was nice, and made me realize that he was a really good-looking guy. He had wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and smooth brown skin. My guess was that he was part Polynesian, or something of the sort. He was older than Ryan, but only by a few years at most. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “We were keeping tabs on a group of people we believe could be involved with a man named James Donovan. He’s—”

  “The CEO of Visticorp. I know.”

  Everyone seemed so surprised that I knew who Donovan was. Ryan and Tyson both frowned at me, and Tyson asked, “How do you know about Visticorp?”

  “I was raised in their labs like some kind of testing rat. I escaped after the explosion. They were supposed to think I was dead, but those men who attacked me were working for them. I have no idea how they found me.”

  Tyson’s frown got even bigger. He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, but Ryan caught his attention and shut him up with a look. I waited for them to explain the strange interaction, but Ryan just smiled at me and said, “Donovan found you the same way we did. You went to see a doctor about your amnesia.”

  I knew they were keeping something from me, but I was too distracted by what Ryan said to make them tell me what it was. “You found me because of Dr. Rajeet?”

  Ryan nodded. “Donovan disappeared after the Visticorp explosion. We can’t find him, but we believe he’s teamed up with a doctor or scientist to continue one of the experiments he was working on in the Vegas lab. This afternoon, your doctor e-mailed your medical files to a number of his colleagues and asked them to come visit him to study your test results. Several of those men were on our list of possible suspects. One of them had to have been Donovan’s partner. He must have realized you were Rajeet’s amnesia patient and sent Donovan’s superthugs after you.”

  Unbelievable. Tony had been right. He’d warned me a million times over never to go to a doctor. All this time, I’d just thought he was crazy paranoid. But it had only taken them hours to find me. “I gave Dr. Rajeet permission to share my test results, but he swore he’d keep my identity confidential. How did Donovan know where to find me?”

  “Someone broke into Rajeet’s office,” Tyson said. “They ripped doors right off of hinges to get inside, and moved so fast the security tapes couldn’t catch more than a blurred image here and there. The only thing they took was your file.”

  It was easy to put the pieces together. “The superthugs.” I frowned as another problem occurred to me. “But the address I gave the doctor’s office was a fake.”

  “The address was,” Ryan agreed, “but the phone number was accurate. And the address attached to your phone number was a PO box here in Las Vegas. We came here instead of going to Boston to see Dr. Rajeet, knowing how fast you travel and hoping the PO box was closer to where you were actually living.”

  “And that PO box led you to the motel I was at…how?”

  Tyson grinned. “We tracked your cell phone and had people watching for the alias you used at Dr. Rajeet’s office. You used your credit card to check into the motel. We were already almost there when you turned on your cell phone. It’s the only reason we were able to get there so soon after Donovan’s supersoldiers.”

  Aside from the disturbing idea of how easy it was for the government to stalk people, something still didn’t add up. “How did any of you even know it was me in the first place? Obviously April O’Neil is not my real name.”

  Ryan snorted softly. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I should have known.”

  I loved that he knew the reference without me needing to explain. Before I could mention as much, Tyson answered my original question. “They knew it was you because your records mentioned green hair and yellow eyes. It was sort of a dead giveaway.”

  My eyebrows hit the ceiling. “You mean I’ve always had green hair?” I pulled some of my hair into my hand and stared at it. “This isn’t a side effect from the explosion?”

  “Not the Visticorp one,” Ryan said. “The hair and eyes came in the accident that gave you your superpowers.”

  Now I was so confused I thought I’d never be able to catch up. “There was another explosion?”

  “A toxic waste thing. Very Alex Mack of you.”

  “Alex who? Toxic waste? Another explosion?” My head was going to have an explosion of its own if I put much more strain on it. I reached up to rub it. “I’m so lost,” I whined. “How do you know so much about me?”

  Ryan did that staring-with-crazy-intensity thing again. Slowly, his mouth lifted into a soft smile. “Well now, that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it, Sunshine?”

  My hand went to my neck and the little sun-shaped charm that hung there. That was the second time he’d called me Sunshine, and he said it as if it were more than a generic term of endearment. He said it with meaning. As if it were a personal nickname. And then it hit me. This guy knew who I was. Who I really was. My eyes bugged open, and Ryan’s smirk morphed into a deliriously happy grin. “That’s right, Jamie. You and I go way back.”

  I sat there, frozen in utter shock. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. All the air left my lungs, and my heart hammered in my chest. He’d said a word—one word—that had just changed my life. “Jamie,” I echoed in a whisper.

  I had a name. It was so simple, kind of plain even, but it was mine. Me. The real me. It was so overwhelming to finally know it that my eyes glossed over. Ryan’s anxiety sho
t into overdrive at the sight of my tears. “Jamie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  I felt a thrill at being called by that name, even if it didn’t spark any recognition. Just the way it rolled off his tongue so naturally made it feel right to me. “I have a name,” I whispered. “A real one. You have no idea how horrible it’s been not knowing who I am.”

  My tears evaporated, and my heart burst with excitement as I realized he could probably tell me a lot more than just my name. I grabbed his hands. “What else do you know about me? Where am I from? Do I have a family? How did I end up at Visticorp? How do I know you? Tell me everything!”

  Ryan laughed and grimaced at the same time. “Easy there, Angel. I don’t have your superstrength. Let’s not break the hands.”

  With a startled squeak, I pulled my hands back to my own lap, where I couldn’t hurt him anymore. I hadn’t even realized I’d been squeezing him. “I’m sorry.”

  Ryan laughed again. “It’s okay. No permanent damage.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “It’s just, the thought of finally getting some answers…” I shook my head, still in a state of disbelief. “I thought I had a few of the pieces, but nothing makes any sense anymore. My boyfriend has been lying to me for some reason. I think he was hiding information from me to keep me safe. But what he told me isn’t possible if I was really this Chelsea’s Angel person. But I am her, right? That’s why you guys keep calling me Angel, isn’t it?”

  I’d been so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice how shocked Ryan was until he didn’t answer my question. He was staring at me, wide-eyed and completely frozen. “What?” I asked.

  He just blinked at me, still too stunned to move. I looked to Tyson for answers, but he was gaping at me too, with his mouth hanging wide open. In fact, everyone riding in the back of the truck with me was now staring at me with huge, surprised eyes.

  “What is it?” I demanded, speaking to the entire group.

  Ryan snapped out of it and focused his thoughts before speaking. “Boyfriend?” His face was completely blank of expression, and his tone of voice was perfectly innocent.