“Amber, what a surprise,” he said, grinning. “Please, come on in.” When he shut the door he immediately closed the blinds. Amber suddenly felt uneasy. She quailed, caught off guard by his fingers digging into her shoulders.
“Have you been in contact with Kelly? Do you know where she is?”
“Slow down, Mr. Stowe.”
“Have you seen the news?”
Amber looked at him bewildered and he shook her. “The news, Amber, have you seen the news?”
“Yes, the golden thief. It’s Kelly. Did you know?”
“Of course, I didn’t know my daughter had picked up the habit of robbing banks. I thought she was in school, until I saw the news report. I didn’t know, but when I saw the footage, I’d recognize my kid anywhere. Mask or no mask.”
“Mr. Stowe, how long has Kelly been able to move things with her mind?”
“I don’t know, your guess is as good as mine. I’m sorry, Amber. I’m just as surprised as you are to learn about all of this. I haven’t seen Kelly in about a year. She went to college and never came home. I think she’s mad at me for not being around more when she was younger. Every now and then, she emails me, but I haven’t heard or seen her face in a while.”
“Do you have a phone number or address?”
“I do, but all the mail comes back—return to sender. When I tried to reply to her emails, those come back undeliverable, too. She’s completely shut me out.”
“Mr. Stowe, I know this may seem strange, and you may not even remember since it was so long ago. But I think it might be important. Back when Kelly and I were freshmen, studying for that huge Algebra exam, there was a dessert in your refrigerator. It was a flan that your wife had brought home. It might have been for your anniversary. Do you remember?
“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.”
“Good. Do you know where she purchased it?”
“Melinda did bring it home, but it wasn’t from a baker. A friend of hers had given it to her. Spanish fellow, Marciello—I think his name was.”
“Oh, is Mrs. Stowe home?”
“I’m afraid she hasn’t been Mrs. Stowe for over a decade now. I don’t know where she is, either.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Mr. Stowe replied. “Have you been in touch with Kelly?”
“No, I haven’t spoken to her in years.”
“If she reaches out to you, tell her I love her and I want her to come home.”
Amber bobbed her head, pitying Kelly’s dad. Divorced and now estranged from his daughter. “I’ll tell her. I’m going to find her, Mr. Stowe.”
They exchanged numbers and he promised Amber that he would call her if he heard anything. She didn’t tell him that Kelly had amnesia. He was dealing with enough. She wouldn’t call him until she had good news.
11
May 16, 2008
On her way back to the apartment, Amber had to make a stop at campus. There was far too much going on to add cramming for final examinations on top of everything else. Until she could get her life in order and save her best friend, school would have to be placed on hold for the time being.
Amber drove to her college campus and walked to the Registrar’s office to fill out the appropriate forms. She watched students walking by with their friends discussing the grueling exams ahead and the epic Phi Beta party coming up that weekend. She missed hanging out with friends and complaining about her demanding professors, pulling all-nighters, picking up the slack from other group project members who failed to contribute their part of the assignments. Okay, maybe she didn't miss that last part.
She had gotten into a routine of studying hard during the week and then getting plastered over the weekend to decompress. Hell, she even missed the dreaded hangovers that came with too many tequila shots. Most of all, she missed doing normal things and she wondered if she'd ever be able to go back to the days when all she had to worry about was keeping up a 3.7 GPA to keep her scholarship.
She entered the registrar’s office just opposite of the group of friends she passed all spread out across the lawn. She completed her drop form, placed it down the corresponding chute, and exited the building to go back to the university’s parking garage.
“Amy Khalid, is that you,” said a vaguely familiar voice.
Amber turned to face the woman, her eyes alight and wide with forced enthusiasm. It was Sherry Jensen, a woman who attended the same high school as Amber.
“Hi, my name is actually Amber.”
“Oh right, I’m sorry Amber. Wow, your skin has really cleared up! It’s amazing what a few years will do.” Amber never had an acne problem a day in her life. Some things never changed.
“Yeah, I guess so. Um, Sherry it’s so, um…” Amber responded, not having the energy to correct her nor produce a good comeback.
“I know it’s great running into each other! So what have you been up to, Amber?”
Amber would have preferred swimming in a tank full of piranhas over talking to Sherry. Sure, it had been years and Amber could not reasonably hold a grudge against this woman for all of the rotten things she had done to her in high school, but Sherry hadn’t changed at all. She still had the same snarky personality, only now she hid behind subliminal comments and the veneer of a sweet, good-natured persona.
“Are you married?” Sherry probed. A dig, no doubt.
“No, but I couldn’t be happier. I’m dating Eric Wooley. You remember him, right? What am I saying? Of course you do. You two were as thick as thieves back in high school.”
“You and Eric…Wooley are…” The look on Sherry’s face was priceless.
“So happy, I know, isn’t it great!”
“Yes, Amber, it’s fabulous. You know, I actually ran into Eric a few weeks ago. And I’m sure it must have slipped his mind, but he didn’t mention you at all.”
And there it was…defeat rearing its spiteful little head.
“He didn’t tell me he saw you a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure it’s nothing. Oh and I saw Kelly Stowe, too. I know you were friends with her, but she was pretty nasty to me when I saw her. She called me a tramp and then manhandled me.”
“Wow, Kelly called you a tramp? That doesn’t sound like her at all.” It did sound like something Kelly would say, but she didn’t have to know that.
“I know it was so rude, right? Anyway, it seemed like she was on something. I mean she had to be on steroids.” Sherry shuddered. “I still have the hand-shaped bruise on my arms where she grabbed me.”
“That's awful.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, if you see her, I wouldn't approach her. I know she's your friend but she's unstable. She needs help.”
“Absolutely. I'm going to call her dad.”
“Good. Well, I should go. Tell Eric I said hello.”
“Okay, take care.”
When Amber got home, Eric was fast asleep, ensconced on the sofa with the television on.
“Babe? Are you awake?”
Eric opened his eyes and repositioned himself so that he could wrap his arms around Amber.
“Hey, honey,” he said sleepily.
“Eric, you won’t believe who I just ran into about an hour ago. Sherry Jensen.”
“Oh, yeah, I saw her a few weeks ago, too.”
“I know, she told me and she also told me that you never mentioned me.” Amber felt his body tense up briefly before he responded.
“Amber, of course I did, you know Sherry. She was probably just trying to get a rise out of you and it looks like it worked.”
“You know, I think you’re right,” she admitted. She told him about Sherry’s encounter with Kelly. The situation was getting completely out of hand. There were sightings of Kelly all over town and yet Amber couldn’t find her. Kelly was more formidable than expected. Presumably they gained access to these powers around the same time, but Kelly was noticeably stronger than Amber.
Amber turned on the television, hopin
g to divert her attention, while leaning against Eric. She was channel surfing when a news updated banner flashed in red across the base of the screen.
This is the twelfth person who has been placed in the intensive care unit of St. Lucian’s Hospital. The assailant is still at large and should be considered extremely dangerous. The assailant is said to be about female, five feet seven inches, and has been seen in gold. If anyone has any additional information, please contact our help line at 1-888-950-4627.
She shut off the television and leaned back against Eric.
“Amber. Don’t worry. You’ll find her.”
She gave him an unconvincing smile. “Yeah, I know. I just need to clear my head for a bit.”
“Okay. Be careful.”
“I will.”
Amber grabbed her keys and went for a drive. Then decided to stop at the mall for a smoothie, maybe being on the road wasn't the best idea, knowing how easily distracted she could be when preoccupied.
The mall was packed with shoppers, carrying on completely oblivious about what was going on. A skinny teenage girl with twin platinum fishtail braids sat on top of the table opposite of Amber, listening to her music. Heavy metal by the sound of it. Amber could hear it blasting through the teen's earbuds. Across from them, a middle-aged plump woman nibbled on a platter of sushi while reading.
They weren't bothering anyone, just heedlessly going on with their days as if everything was copacetic. Have they seen the news? Fear not everyone, as you were, just keep pretending there’s not a crazed maniac terrorizing the city. She scrunched up her face in confusion. Carrington wasn’t in the midst of an apocalypse or covered in fire and brimstone. When did she become so cynical?
Here, calm down and have some smoothie. As she drank her strawberry banana smoothie and settled down in the food court, the smoothie did its work allaying her negative mood. With her hunger in check, she no longer found the milling crowd’s happiness so cloying. Why should they be denied happiness? She owed it to them to stop feeling sorry for herself and fight back, even if she was outmatched by Kelly. They shared the same powers and it was her burden alone to bear.
Amber took one last sip and tossed it into the waste basket. When she stood up to leave, she bumped into the goth teen. The girl snapped her head around and screamed, “Watch where you’re going!”
The woman across from them looked up from her sushi and shook her head at the obnoxious youth. She stood up and started gathering her belongings to leave.
“Wow, maybe take it easy on the volume,” Amber retorted, tapping her ear. The table where the other woman had been dining was now empty.
Thinking she had the right idea, Amber also turned to leave the food court. Then she spotted the woman discarding the remnants of her sushi dinner into the trash near the exit. Amber brushed elbows with her, underestimating the narrow space made even slimmer with the bulk of the woman’s handbag partially blocking the exit.
“Pardon me,” Amber said, offering a smile.
A moment ago, the woman seemed to share the same sentiment as Amber, casting a sort of look of commiseration Amber's way. Now Amber was dodging the woman's meaty left hook, which ended up clocking a business man entering the food court. On his way down, the sharp edge of one of the tables sliced through his temple. The ghastly cut would require stitches, but it didn't curtail the surreal chain reaction that unfolded amongst a crowd that was docile not three minutes ago. Amber's fingers barely grazed the man's forearm when he shot up and barreled into a few jocks who just happened to be walking through the food court.
The fighting forced Amber to take a several steps back to avoid becoming entangled in the insanity. She searched for security, her eyes naturally following the arc of stores bordering the food court. A stocky security guard was stationed at the foot of an escalator. His broad back was turned away from the commotion as he spoke into a walkie mounted on his shoulder. Amber wasn't certain if he was calling for back up, but judging by his lack of urgency she supposed he was just checking in. Whatever the case, he was her only option at the moment to get some help. She hurdled over an upended bench, sprinted over to the security guard, and tapped his arm. It took a second for her to cut her eyes away from the guard to point him in the direction of the fight. She half expected maybe a roll of the eyes since she'd passed him earlier and he didn't seem too keen on the notion of actually having to work. He had been leaning against the information marquee, scrolling through his phone. But his built was solid and he looked as though he could handle himself if faced with a crisis.
“There's a fight over there—”
An audible thwack cut her off mid-sentence. The corners of her mouth ached like she'd opened her mouth wide to consume a Jawbreaker. Only it wasn't the sweet candy that filled her mouth. It was a salty bitterness that flitted across her tongue. For a moment, she stared dumbfounded that a man hit her with a closed fist, an officer no less. She spat out the blood and glared at him. Any trace of the dopey, lazy grin that showed every dimple on his face was gone. All she saw now was a hateful snarl as she threw her forearms up to block another punch, and bounded over him to avoid any further battery.
Amber weaved through the growing wave of shoppers, finding it impossible to move without bumping shoulders with someone. A bottle smashed into bits and shards just a few inches from Amber's face. She looked behind her to see who'd thrown it. The same reedy teenage girl was winding up with another bottle aiming for Amber. The fighting was contagious; everywhere she turned newcomers were joining the brawl. Somehow she was starting to think she was the cause of it, especially since every person she touched reacted to her with a pugnacious outburst. Otherwise normal bystanders turned querulous with just a brush of her hand in passing. She had to get out of there.
After ducking into a side hallway, a safe distance away from the commotion, she wrenched out her cell phone from her jeans, and called for help.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Yes, there’s a riot at Blissview Mall in the Food Court. We need help now!”
The operator asked, “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?”
Amber pressed the end button, immersing herself back into the crowd. This time, she negotiated the incoming swell of people, careful not to touch anyone else.
Over her shoulder, she peered back at the melee. She felt diffident, fleeing when she was probably the only one who could stop the riot. What more could she do? How could she possibly stop the madness when she couldn't fathom what brought on the bout of discord. She shoved her way out of the mall doors, thinking that her immediate egress was the best thing she could do for everyone.
12
May 16, 2008
Amber arrived home a short while later and placed her keys on one of the branches of the key tree. As she turned around to hang up her coat, she bumped into Eric.
“It’s okay, I’m okay. What’s the hurry, Amber?” He asked as he stood up smiling. He picked up the magazines he’d knocked over and put them back onto the side table in an organized pattern.
She expelled a puff of air, not realizing she had been holding it. Her touch sent others into a fury back at the mall, but it seemed it ended there. Eric was his normal, easy-going self. “I’m sorry; Eric, but you wouldn’t believe what just happened.”
“Well, why don’t you try me?” His back was still turned away from Amber, but she could hear the irritation in his voice. He stood up and smashed a red lamp onto the linoleum floor. “Amber, I am so sick of you treating me like an invalid. I’m not your lackey or some sort of sidekick. Has it ever occurred to you that I couldn't care less about your problems? I have my own problems like you for starters.”
“Eric, you don’t mean that.”
“I mean every word and stop crying,” he said, slapping her across the face. “You know, you’re too weak to have those powers.”
She rubbed her face in shock. “I’m sorry, Eric.”
“You’ll be even sorrier when I’m…”
&nb
sp; Amber punched him hard enough to leave him unconscious. Picking him up with one hand, she dropped him on the sofa. On the off chance that Eric would potentially wake up still riled up, Amber locked herself in their bedroom.
Amber couldn't even begin to explain what had transpired at Blissview Mall, but undoubtedly she knew she was the catalyst of all the chaos. Still having no control of her abilities, she was at the epicenter of it, causing anyone within a close radius of her to experience a flare up of violence and attack other bystanders.
At first it was exciting, discovering she could move objects with her mind, but then the powers kept coming and the dynamic changed from awesome to terrifying. When she wanted to close the door with her mind, she ended up ripping the hinges off the frame. This last power development—rage inducement—was by far the worst. At this point, Amber exhibited zero knack for managing her powers. Her powers were in control and she was just riding shotgun.
As per usual, she defaulted to her normal routine whenever she felt overwrought. Hitting the gym always calmed her and helped her think more clearly. Amber pounded on a punching bag, a safe mode of releasing her aggression.
Containing herself, to the best of her ability, she continued to pummel the bag with a series of jabs and hooks.
An onlooker whistled. “Well, looky here.”
She ignored him and gave the bag a side kick.
“That's right, sweetheart. Pound it. Pound it, hard!” He stretched out the word hard, explicitly laced with a double entendre. When that didn't elicit a response, he walked behind her and slapped her bottom.
She grabbed his hand and twisted it behind him. “I was obviously ignoring you and your disgusting innuendos, but you had to go the extra mile and put your hands on me.” She applied more pressure on his hands and he yelped. She cackled, deriving pleasure from his pain.
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