“You could let me go,” Gary said with a crafty look in his eyes. “Let me take the money in the bag.” He gave me what he must have thought was a winning smile.
I looked at him for a minute before turning to the ex-hostages. “I need rope, belts, something to tie up these guys. Someone call nine-one-one.”
Everyone stared at me, shock on their faces. Finally several of the men undid their belts and started tying up the robbers. Jack came over to me with his belt, and I stepped away from Gray Mask to give him room.
I grabbed Gary and yanked off his stupid ski mask, revealing his pale and sweating face. He tried to pull away, but I held on tight as the man in the blue suit and the bank manager used a network cable from the computer to tie him up. He was twitching and whimpering about getting his due.
“Ollie, what did you do?” Jack tightened the belt around Gray Mask’s wrists. He was gentler than I would have been. When Jack was done, he faced me.
I attempted a grin. “Um, you know, adrenaline rush. Strength through fear.” I turned serious. “He was going to kill you. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Jack bent down and touched the floor where the bullet had entered. I clenched my hand, which was back to its soft, fleshy self. Jack cocked his head to frown at me but didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t bear his questioning look, so I turned away to survey the rest of the scene while I took a personal powers inventory. Okay, super strength, check. Super armor, check. Super speed, check. What other powers were in my reach?
And then I saw that the praying elderly couple had covered the bank guard with a coat, and someone else had covered the construction worker. And I remembered that with all these amazing powers came duties. I had these powers not for personal gain, but to keep people safe, and I had failed the bank guard and the construction worker. Just like I’d failed my mom.
I felt myself shrinking back into turtle mode, thinking I could hide from my heritage. But I knew I couldn’t; I felt too awake. I couldn’t stuff all these powers back into the closet. I’d been too late for the two men, but I knew Jack wouldn’t be alive if I hadn’t stopped the robbery. Knowing that helped, but I still told myself this was a one-time event.
A little old lady picked up the bag of phones and upended it on a desk. People grabbed their phones and started frantically making calls. Someone must have called the police because I heard sirens outside. I retrieved mine and Jack’s phones.
I heard Aunt Kate’s warning echoing in my mind: “Don’t let the police know who you are. They’ll either arrest you or make you join up.”
I bent down next to Jack, handed him his phone, and said quietly, “Jack, please don’t say anything to the police. I don’t want to answer a lot of questions. Please?” He nodded, but I could tell I’d better answer some questions for him later.
Okay. That was later. I had to get through now without causing too much talk.
The police burst in, and all was confusion. When my fellow hostages pointed to me as their savior, I was ready with my excuses. Adrenaline rush. Strength through fear. When asked about the bullet in the floor, I widened my eyes and said that it must have hit my bracelet. I’d even used my new strength to push a divot into the wide cuff. I claimed to not remember much and even cried a little.
Finally, after the other hostages were questioned, they released us from the bank. Trailing behind everyone with Jack at my side, I stepped into the bright sunshine, blinking and bemused by the television crews outside.
Microphones were shoved into my face. “Is it true you single-handedly stopped the bank robbers?” “Can you verify that you have super strength?” “Did you really stop a speeding bullet?”
Oh crap. So much for staying under the radar.
My phone rang. It was my Aunt Kate. “Hello, Olivia.”
Chapter 2
When I got into bed that night, my mind and body felt empty, as if the act of using my abilities had drained me. I dropped off to sleep, and, if I dreamed, I didn’t remember any details.
I woke up Friday morning, feeling amazing, clear headed and energized…and then I remembered I’d used my abilities. With a shudder, I curled up in bed, images from the bank robbery replaying in my head. The sound of the security guard being shot, and the sound of the bank teller throwing up, Jack unconscious in my arms, Jack waking up, and Jack trying to save everyone. I felt a flash of resentment; if Jack hadn’t tried to be a hero, I wouldn’t have had to be one. Pulling the covers over my head, I seriously considered staying in bed all day.
Instead of drifting off to sleep, my mind replayed my post-robbery conversation with Aunt Kate. Our call had been mercifully short because Dad was coming towards me through the crowd gathered around the bank. Aunt Kate asked simply, “Is the genie out of the bottle?”
And, though I really, really wanted to say no and throw away the phone, I saw the stretcher carrying the dead guard go by and knew the body count would have been higher if I hadn’t tapped into my abilities. “Maybe.” Even that much of an acknowledgement made me dizzy.
She answered in her calm, steady voice. “You should come down to the warehouse.”
The warehouse was where my mother’s family trained; I’d never been there, even when my mother was alive, because no one could enter before the age of thirteen. The family held a ceremony and made a big fuss when a supernormal came of age.
“Um. No, I don‘t think so.” Just because I’d tapped into my abilities didn’t mean I would do it again. “Sorry.”
“I see,” Aunt Kate said. “Olivia, you can’t deny who you are.”
“Look, one little rescue does not a supernormal make.” I was aware I sounded bratty, but my mother’s older sister usually caused that reaction in me. “This was a one-off, okay? It won’t happen again.”
Silence from the other end of the phone made me hope she’d hung up, but finally she said, “As you wish. If you want to reach me, you now have my number.”
I was saved from further conversation by Dad arriving and hugging me tightly.
Even in the dim morning light, I still had no intention of contacting her or any of the Brighthalls. The idea of it made me squirm so much I couldn’t stay in bed. I flung back the covers and sat up, swinging my legs so they dangled over the side of the bed. And then I just sat, staring at the floor. What happens now? Could I stuff the genie back in the bottle?
Sick of listening to my thoughts, I went downstairs where I knew Dad would be. He took one look at me and decided to keep me home from school. He stayed home as well, saying his CPA firm, Woodson and Howell, would be fine for one day without one of its senior partners.
We sat in our cozy den. Dad was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He’d already pulled out the comic section for me, and I curled up in the oversized armchair to read it. My cat, Boo Radley, wandered in, her grey fur in disarray as usual. She jumped up on the window seat and settled down to peer out the window until she fell asleep: her usual morning routine.
When Dad mentioned calling the Careens to see if they were okay in wake of Gary’s arrest, I felt a jolt inside. I’d forgotten he was friendly with the Careens.
I twisted a piece of the newspaper between my fingers. “Isn’t it awkward? I mean, I pretty much caught their son in the act of robbing a bank.” I finished more quietly. “And as an accessory to murder.”
Dad ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and sighed. “Yes, it will be awkward, no way around it.” He folded the business section of the paper neatly together. “But it would be worse if I never say anything.”
I thought about his words for a moment before a horrible thought came to me. “Do I need to talk to them?”
Dad smiled at me sympathetically. “I think we can give it a little time for now.”
I sat back, limp with relief. Mindy as my nemesis aside, Mrs. Careen scared me. She was very focused on her children’s academic success. The only time I’d ever seen her look really happy was when she found out that Gary was goi
ng to MIT on a full scholarship. I bet she was very unhappy right now, though. Who could blame her? Nevertheless, I was glad Dad’s sense of honor didn’t require I face the Careens right now.
At breakfast, we sat together around the large farmhouse table in the kitchen, eating Dad’s famous (in his mind) goat cheese, spinach, and pepperoni casserole. For most of the meal, Dad didn’t say much, as was his way. He tended to watch and listen more than talk. Mom used to comment that if you really wanted to know what happened at a party they’d attended, just ask Dad. I’d always found it relaxing that he didn’t say much; his silence was never a wall between us.
No, those walls came from the things I had to keep silent about.
I thought about what it had been like using my abilities yesterday, remembering how awesome I’d felt as I leapt through the air, and how crappy I’d felt because I’d let two men get killed, especially the construction worker. I should have acted before he tried to be a hero. I could close my eyes and see their faces. If I kept my eyes closed long enough, I saw Mom’s face as she was consumed by flames in front of me when I was seven. It was the same image that came to me relentlessly at odd moments. I felt the muscles along my back tighten, and I vowed, once again, to never use my abilities. I did not want to live a life of secrecy and danger.
“Olivia.”
I looked up from my plate, where I was spearing a chunk of pepperoni with my fork. “Yes?’
“Are you okay?” Dad leaned on his elbows, brow furrowed. “Yesterday had to be pretty awful.”
I took a deep breath and tried to stop replaying scenes from the bank robbery. I managed to shrug. “I’m okay, just a little tired.”
Dad regarded me intently for a moment before nodding. “You know you can talk to me about it, right? If there’s anything that happened that you need to get off your chest.” He drank some coffee, added some salt to his casserole and then picked up his fork while I tried to imagine telling him about supernormals. “How’s Jack?” he asked before taking a bite.
“Fine…I think he’s fine.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. ”His mom dragged him off to the hospital, but he texted me later to say he was okay.” And that was all, no lengthy conversation, just a quick check in. It wasn’t like with Jack; usually I was the one who had to end our conversations.
“Good.” Dad reached for my plate and took it at my nod that I was done eating. “Okay, we can either wallow around here or take the day and get away. Maybe a hike in the Gorge?”
Just like Dad; his solution to any problem was to go on a hike or climb a mountain. In the years since Mom’s death, he’d climbed Mt. Hood twice, Mt. Rainer once, and the South Sister at least five times. He was an expert on every hike within ninety miles of Portland.
“Sure, Dad. Sounds good.” A hike would probably help calm some of the residual energy I was feeling. I felt like there was a layer of bubbles buzzing under my skin. The bubbles, combined with my tension over using my abilities, made it impossible for me to sit still.
We decided to head out to Multnomah Falls, a popular tourist spot in the Columbia River Gorge about thirty minutes from Portland. It’s the starting point for several hikes, ranging from an easy hike to the Multnomah Falls Lodge, to a little more challenging hike up to Benson Bridge. Then there was the hike I predicted Dad would suggest: the Larch Mountain Hike, fourteen total miles with an elevation gain of 4000 feet. It had been over a year since I hiked with Dad. It was more fun to hang out with my friends and make videos of us baking cakes blindfolded or eating as many hot peppers as possible in a minute than it was to go hiking.
Even though it was only 8:30 when we arrived, the parking lot was already three-quarters full. I sat on the tailgate of our Jeep and pulled on my hiking boots while watching people go by. It was easy to pick out the few serious hikers compared to the tourists by their hiking boots, backpacks, and other gear. I shook my head as several ladies walked by in heels and fluttery skirts; the trail to the falls wasn’t that hard of a hike, but I wouldn’t want to do it flip-flops, much less high heels. I wasn’t sure even supernormal abilities would help me out with bad footwear choices. And anyway, I wasn’t going to use my abilities again. Ever, I thought as I tightened the laces on my boots.
Dad got out of the Jeep and stretched. He put his hands on his hips and peered up the mountain where cottony clouds drifted around the top. The weather was partly sunny and cool, hinting at the damp, dark days to come but giving us a last gasp of summer to enjoy. He cocked his head at me. “Want to do the Larch Mountain trail?” he asked with a challenging tone. “Or just the loop?” He finished with a grin.
Yep, just as I predicted, Dad was picking the longer and harder hike. It sounded good to me, too. I was so juiced up I thought I might be able to run the fourteen miles up and back.
Dad and I headed for the Lodge, weaving through people ambling along with baby strollers and even one woman in a maxi dress tottering along, waving a camera. We dodged little kids running about willy-nilly while their parents gaped at nature.
The crowds stayed with us as we headed up the series of eleven switchbacks leading to the Benson Bridge and the popular view of the Multnomah Falls.
As we passed tourists and more serious hikers, I found myself in alert mode, scanning people for signs of trouble or signs they needed rescuing. I jerked my head around when I saw a lady in flip-flops stumble. I leapt back to catch her before I realized she was fine and didn’t need my help. I turned away quickly, not wanting to see her reaction to my aborted rescue attempt. Luckily, Dad was ahead of me and missed the scene.
I had to stop myself from helping clumsy people several more times; I’d never seen so many people stumble on one hike. Anxiety tightened my chest, and I was relieved when Dad and I reached the dirt trail leading up the Larch Mountain trail. This was where most people turned back to make the easy loop.
Dad sighed and looked at me with a sheepish smile. “I know I should be glad people are enjoying the day outside, but it’s nice to get past them.”
I nodded and hoped we didn’t see anyone else for a while. My head was pounding from the effort of not tapping into my abilities.
As we fell into our hiking rhythm, I found myself mentally circling back to fretting about the events of the bank robbery the day before. Did anyone notice I had caught the bullet or understood what they’d witnessed? Did I need to worry someone would blog or tweet about it? My fears moved from general worries to specifically wondering if Jack was still freaked out. I pulled my phone from my pocket, intending to text him, but I didn’t have a signal. I did have a text from my best friend, Anna, asking how I was doing, but it was from an hour ago when I was still in range.
“Ollie?” Dad’s voice sounded faint. “Ollie, can you hear me? I’ve been shouting to you for the past fifteen minutes.”
I stopped and realized I’d been brooding so much that I hadn’t been paying attention to my speed. Dad was a strong hiker, but he was no match for a supernormal, even one trying not to use her latent abilities. Normally I set my pace to his, but I’d been so lost in thought I’d left him in my dust. I wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Yeah, sorry,” I called back to him where he stood looking up at me on a switchback about a half mile below me. I sat down to wait for him to catch up. I pulled out my water bottle, splashed some water on my hands, and rubbed it on my face and into my hair so it looked like I was sweaty.
It took Dad about fifteen minutes to reach me. He gave me a curious look as he sat down on a rock beside me, breathing as hard as I’ve ever seen him breathe.
“Feeling strong today?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Um, well.” I fumbled for an explanation. “Leftover adrenaline rush, maybe?” I shrugged and frowned. “I was thinking about yesterday, and I guess I got caught up in remembering.”
Dad nodded and reached over to put a hand on my shoulder. “Anything in particular you want to discuss?”
I stared at Dad, imagining what he would say if
I just spilled everything, from my origins, to Mom being a supernormal, to my role in stopping yesterday’s bank robbery. I almost laughed. “Thanks. I’ll be okay.”
Dad looked concerned but didn’t push it. I stayed focused the rest of the way up the mountain, making sure to remain close to him.
The trail reached its summit at Sherrard Point, an old fire lookout with views of five dormant volcanoes: Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier, Mt. Adams, Mount St. Helens, and Mt. Jefferson. I took Dad’s photo next to the stone slab showing details about Mt. Hood with the peak in the background. We sat on the concrete benches and ate lunch while watching clouds drift by.
I usually felt a sense of calm at the pinnacle of a hike – the views of far off mountains made all my problems seem miniscule. But today I couldn’t find any relief from the thoughts swirling around in my head. After finishing my turkey sandwich, I got up and paced around the concrete platform while staring out at the peaks.
After lunch, Dad and I began the trek back down the mountain. It was just like coming up: no one for several miles, and then suddenly masses of humanity in the last mile and a half of the trail. This time, I managed not to react to every single kid crying or adult stumbling, but it was difficult. I was more exhausted by those efforts than by nearing the end of the fourteen mile hike.
We were on the set of eleven switchbacks near the end of the trail, and I was concentrating so hard on having my supernormal sensor blinders on that I almost missed the screaming. The screams resounded from the switchback above and penetrated my mental shield. I looked up to see a small child tumbling down the steep slope about thirty feet in front of me. The shrieking child was only about five feet from the hard, paved trail.
Before I could think about going into rescue mode, my instincts took over. I jumped forward, covering the space between me and the child in long, leaping strides. Just as I got to the child, I dove forward and caught him in my arms, right before he slammed into the trail. He wrapped his arms around me and wailed while I tried to comfort him. I managed to stand up while still holding him.
The Supernormal Legacy_Book 1_Dormant Page 2