Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air (The Frost Files)

by Jackson Ford

  “OK. Fine.” I lean on the table, arms akimbo, like a general considering battle plans. I can’t afford to panic now, or even show it. “Right now, we don’t know where he is. He might have left LA already. But we know where he’s going to be.” I look at Africa. “Yes? Back me up on this.”

  “I suppose…”

  “Good enough.” I turn to Mia. “The zone you’re talking about. Where is it?”

  She just gapes at me.

  “OK, this is the part where you point to the map,” I say.

  With a trembling hand, Mia starts sketching again, circling a spot in Washington State. “ETS tremors don’t happen on a schedule, but they’re fairly regular. It would be a lot easier for him if he triggered a big pressure release in an area that’s due for one.”

  My heart starts to beat faster. “Wait – you’re saying that’s where he’s going to be? That’s the ETS zone?”

  But Mia isn’t done. She circles another spot on the map, halfway down Oregon. A third, at the Oregon – California state line. A fourth, a little below that, in the Mendocino National Forest.

  And they are big circles. If I had to guess, I’d say they cover hundreds of square miles each.

  “These spots,” she says, “are all due a slow-slip tremor. If Matthew releases enough energy in a short space of time, and if he’s at the right place, it could set off Cascadia.”

  “So he’s going to be in one of these four spots? That’s what you’re saying?”

  “In theory…”

  “Do not in theory me right now. Theories aren’t going to cut it. Where? Which spot would he go for?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say northern California around Mendocino, or in Washington. That’s where the most pressure has built up.”

  Africa cuts in. “I do not understand. How does he know where these are?”

  Mia closes her eyes, actually shudders. “I told him.”

  Of course she did.

  And why wouldn’t she? If someone asks about tectonic plates, you don’t automatically assume they’re going to end the world.

  I tap the circle near Mendocino. “This is closest. He’d go for there, surely?”

  “It might not be that simple,” Mia murmurs.

  “Why not?”

  “The San Andreas quakes went a long way up the coast. We don’t know what the roads are like up there – he might not be able to get close. That means he could go for one of the other zones.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “And how close are we talking here? I’m guessing the border of each zone isn’t like a hard border.”

  “Definitely not. But I don’t know about how his… his powers work. It might be enough for him to be at the edge of one of the ETS zones, but if he really wanted to do this, he’d probably get as close to the centre as possible – or at least, close to where we think the centre is.”

  “So if he has to go for one of these zone things to set off Cascadia, did he do the same with the San Andreas? With our fault line?”

  She shrugs. “It’s possible. The San Andreas and Cascadia faults are different – the whole of San Andreas is under our feet, not under the ocean, and it’s a lot smaller. Maybe he didn’t need to be right on an ETS zone to trigger it, I don’t know.”

  “Why did he even go for San Andreas in the first place? If Cascadia was going to be such a disaster, then why start small?”

  Mia stops, takes a calming breath. “I don’t think he knew. About Cascadia.” Her eyes go wide. “We have to tell somebody! The government, or…”

  She stands up, starts looking around, as if trying to call one of her colleagues over. I pull her back down. “Not a good idea.”

  “What are you talking about? Hey, Arnie! Arnie, is there—?”

  “Keep your damn voice down,” I hiss, even as Arnie and a couple of the other scientists look over at us.

  “Teggan,” Africa says. “I think they might have satellite phones here. We can tell Tanner.”

  “Who’s Tanner?” Mia says.

  I ignore her. “Dude, if we try to get hold of Tanner from here, we’ll have to let everybody know about what I can do, and about what Matthew can do, and we’ll be here until the end of time. Besides, right now, Reggie might be—”

  “We’re here already!” Africa spreads his arms, gesturing to the rest of the tent. More of the occupants are looking over at us now, exchanging confused looks. “It is the quickest way.”

  “Dude—”

  “You already show her what you can do.” Africa jabs a finger at Mia.

  “It’s not just about that.”

  “We do not have time to keep things secret. It’s bigger than you.”

  Argh. It’s Nic all over again – the accusation that I’m acting selfishly, refusing to help. I have to make him understand – make both of them understand.

  “If we go and tell the soldiers or the other people here what we told Mia,” I say, “we’ll be running in circles for ever. They might even be hostile. By the time we get through to Tanner – if we ever get through to Tanner, because I sure as hell don’t know how to reach her – Matthew could be halfway to setting off Cascadia.”

  “So what else are we supposed to—?”

  “Jesus, Africa, think. Reggie. She said she’d keep trying to contact Tanner while we came down here. She might even have gotten through already. We hightail it back to Dodger, link up with her, tell her what we found out. She can get her people to every single one of these stupid zones.”

  “Who’s Reggie?” Mia says. “Look, who are you guys?”

  “File that under stuff that definitely doesn’t matter right now. All you need to know is, Reggie’s our boss, Tanner’s her boss, and they’re the quickest way to figuring this whole shit out.”

  “Gonna take us a long time to get back to the stadium,” Africa says, looking sour. I don’t blame him – I’m not exactly excited for the hike back either. But I know my way is the right one. It makes sense.

  “I’m coming,” Mia says.

  “Mia,” I say with what is frankly a lot more patience than the circumstances deserve. “This isn’t a movie. You don’t get to pull the whole I’m coming with you thing here. It’s our responsibility, not yours.”

  She’s rolling up the map, stuffing it under her arm. “One: I can help you figure out which zone he’s going to end up in. Two: you don’t get to show me superpowers, and then ask me to sit this one out.”

  “Listen, we’re really grateful for the help, but right now—”

  “Three: if you take me with you, you won’t have to walk back to Dodger Stadium.”

  She marches over to Arnie, who is still staring at us, trying to work out what’s going on. “I need your keys.”

  He blinks at her in astonishment.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve got a helicopter stashed somewhere,” I say.

  “Nope. Got something better.” She grins. It’s the mad, almost self-righteous grin of someone totally committed to the path they’ve started down. It is the grin of someone has just had the laws of physics casually broken in front of them, and who has decided they are totally fine with it.

  I try one more time. “Please listen to me. You could get hurt doing this. Maybe even killed.”

  “The way I see it,” Mia says, “I gave the boy everything he needed. I answered all his questions. Well, we all kind of did, but… look, the point is, I helped cause this. I’m going to help fix it.”

  “Mimi,” Arnie says. “What exactly is—?”

  “Arnie, if you call me Mimi one more time I will kick you in the balls.”

  “I can’t just give you keys, Mim—Mia.” Arnie draws himself up to his full height. He’s surprisingly tall. “You’re an intern. You’re not supposed to—”

  Mia sticks a finger in his face. “How about this. You give me the keys, and I won’t tell anybody that I saw you watching porn on your phone in the cafeteria last week.”

  Arnie go
es pale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Do you want everyone to know how much you like bukkake? Because I can—”

  “OK!” I wedge myself between them. “I think the point’s been made here. Arnie, how about you be a gem and hand Mia what she wants before she has to do any more super-awkward blackmailing, m’kay?”

  “All right, all right, Jesus.” Arnie glowers at me, as if he wants to demand to know who the hell we are. Then he digs in his pocket, hanging Mia a set of keys. She gives him a friendly smile as he walks off, muttering. Africa snorts.

  Mia turns to us, dangling the keys. “We good?”

  “Super grossed-out, but yes. What are we driving?”

  Another wild grin spreads across Mia’s face.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Teagan

  Under normal circumstances, ATVs fucking rule.

  I’ve driven them plenty of times before. We had three when I lived in Wyoming, although only one of them was usually working. After we got older, my dad taught Chloe, Adam and me how to ride them. The idea was for us to help Dad with the chores – fetching firewood, repairing fences, all that shit. But you can’t give a group of teenagers access to giant, four-wheeled motorbikes without having them go tearing off into the wilderness at the earliest opportunity.

  It’s kind of a miracle that I’m still alive. We ramped those things a lot.

  You know when ATVs do not rule? When you have to be a passenger. Also, when you have to ride them through a bumpy, torn-up, apocalyptic wasteland, and it’s raining, and fucking cold, and dark as shit, and Africa doesn’t know how to steer.

  When we first arrived at the two ATVs, I made to climb onto the driver’s seat. Africa pulled me back. “Uh-uh, Teggan. I must drive.”

  “Oh, really? You can drive an ATV?”

  “I am the driver for China Shop. It’s my job.” Daring me to contradict him.

  So he drives one, and Mia takes the other. These ATVs aren’t like the ones my parents had. Well, they are, in that they’ve got four wheels and the familiar, hard, uncomfortable seats. It’s just that these ATVs have clearly been hitting the protein shakes. The tyres are the size of extra-large pizzas, and the engines sound like God trying to win a burping contest. The unseen authority handling the Meitzen Museum staff knew their stuff, because these monsters are perfect for navigating rough terrain – and for turning my pelvis and spine to powder, because apparently, whoever bought them didn’t spring for optional extras like shock absorbers. It really helps that we don’t have helmets. I don’t even think I saw a helmet.

  We’re ripping north, up Hoover Street. It’s not the most direct route, but it has a distinct lack of smashed skyscrapers, which I always find is a plus. Africa twists the handlebars to wind us past a huge crack in the road, the back wheel nearly slipping over the edge. Ahead of us, Mia’s tail lights split the night. There are fewer people out on the streets now, although some of them try and chase after us. I have no idea what they want – if they’re looking for food, or to jack the ATVs, or just to say hi. I can see them shouting, see their lips moving, but can’t hear a damn thing over the roar of the engines.

  My imagination goes into overdrive. What if there are gangs? Like big groups of raiders you always see in post-apocalyptic movies? Big dudes in leather with spikes on their shoulders, setting up funky traps that have tripwires and pressure switches and—?

  Holy fuck, I think I just drifted off. I actually fell asleep, right on the back of this snorting, snarling hell vehicle. Christ, what is the time, even? When did I last sleep? Or eat?

  Doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I slept. I’m not drifting off again. Not when I’m on the back of an ATV with no helmet or seat belt. We haven’t hit Apocalypse Now yet, just Apocalypse Soon, which means I don’t get to fall asleep on the job.

  There are a few places where the road has been blocked by overturned cars, or there’s a crack too large for us to cross. We have to dive into the side streets, winding our way through Pico Union and Westlake. Even so, we make good time. Really good time. Soon, we’re roaring up Vin Scully Avenue – which has surprisingly little damage – and into the stadium parking lot.

  It’s gotten worse in the couple hours we’ve been away. A lot worse. The crowds have grown, more people streaming in, milling around the entrance tunnels. Not exactly surprising. Even if FEMA and the National Guard weren’t directing people here, the stadium is probably the only place in the city with consistent power. It’s a big, glowing beacon, lighting up the clouds.

  We come to a stop under a line of trees bordering the west parking lot. When Africa and Mia cut the engines, my ears keep ringing. We stink of exhaustion and exhaust fumes – and somehow, we’re even wetter than we were before. I pull out my phone, half-hoping that there’ll be some signal. No dice. According to the clock, it’s 00:30. I’ve been awake for nearly eighteen hours, although my body is apparently convinced it’s been eighteen thousand.

  Mia dismounts her trusty steed. Without the headlights, she’s a ghost, an indistinct shape in the darkness. “Your guys are inside the stadium?” She eyes the crowds around the entrance, over at our two o’clock. Rowdy, pissed-off, loud.

  “Nah, they thought they’d just hang out in the parking lot,” I say. “Make it easy for us.”

  “They are in the medical tent,” says Africa.

  Mia frowns. “You still haven’t told me who you actually are. Are you CIA or something?”

  I rub my right eye with the heel of my hand. “Call us China Shop.”

  “China what?”

  “Never mind. We’re the good guys. Come on, Africa.”

  I’m not even going to bother telling Mia to stay behind. She’s in this now, fully committed, whether I want her to be or not. I think I knew that when I decided to show her my power – something I’m not going to apologise for, by the way. This isn’t just a regular emergency; it’s the dictionary definition.

  We’re barely ten feet from the ATVs when something occurs to me. “Give me a sec,” I tell the other two.

  I stride back to the quads, sending out my PK in a wide arc. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for. There are flexible, plastic orange bollards dotted throughout the lot – the kind of thing that lets a driver know he can’t park for shit. Checking to make sure no one nearby is paying attention, I grab the nearest one with my PK, and snap it off at the base.

  “Woah,” Mia says from behind me. I don’t bother looking round. I work quickly, splitting the plastic cylinder lengthwise. It makes me think of a chef julienning a carrot, an image so out of place I almost laugh. But what it gives me are two long, straight chunks of plastic. In seconds, I have them twisted through the spokes of each ATV’s front wheel, wrapped around the axles.

  “Let’s see someone steal them now,” I tell the other two.

  Mia shakes her head, eyes closed. She lifts a finger, like she’s about to make a point, then drops it.

  “I really don’t know what else I can do to show you I’m on the level,” I say.

  “It’s…” She clears her throat. “It’s OK. It’s just amazing.”

  “That’s nothing. I once took out a police helicopter by fucking with the fuel tanks.”

  “You did what?”

  “Hey, come now, no story time.” Africa points at the stadium. “Let’s go.”

  I open my mouth to tell him… Actually, I don’t know what I was going to tell him, because right then, it happens again.

  The tinnitus.

  The mental tinnitus.

  The same thing that happened in Watts, outside Annie’s mom’s house. My PK flickers, on and off, gone then not gone, my head filling with sloshing water. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get a grip on it, trying to understand what in the name of blue fuck is making this happen.

  It doesn’t make sense. The kid is gone. Even if it was me sensing some of his… what, after-effects? Is that what you’d call them? Even if it was, why wouldn’t I have se
nsed it back when Paul was killed? Why now?

  I force my eyes open, looking around me. But there’s nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

  Snap. Back to normal. Just the three of us, the ATVs, the parking lot. The trees, leaves whispering against one another. The groups of people around the stadium entrance, the chill air.

  “What’s wrong?” Mia asks.

  “Nothing. Just a… just a long day.” I have bigger shit to deal with right now than whatever my brain is doing. “Let’s go.”

  But we can’t get near the fucking stadium. They’re not letting anyone else in.

  Even with Africa trying to clear a path for us, there’s no getting through the crowds. I didn’t think it would be this bad; every tunnel we try is blocked off by freaked-out soldiers who look like they’re about three seconds from just opening up with their M-16s. Reggie and Annie are in there. Nic is in there. And if we don’t get in there soon, the situation is going to get a fuck of a lot worse.

  We move slowly around the stadium, trying to find a way in through the thick crowds, looking for a gap. Africa’s craning his neck so hard that I’m half-convinced his head is going to pop off his shoulders. And all we see is chaos: a maddening crush of confused, angry people, fights breaking out, sullen faces and shouted words.

  And you know what the worst thing is? We are three quarters of the way round the stadium before I realise we still have our earpieces.

  Actually, that’s not the worst. The worst is that Africa realises before I do. He starts, hand flying to his ear. “Hey,” he says, way too loudly. “Anybody there?”

  Mia gives him a confused look. Fortunately, I’m quicker on the uptake. “Reggie, Annie, come in.”

  Nothing. Not even static.

  “OK,” I say to Africa. “We just need to get closer. Can you—?”

  He’s already on it, bellowing at the crowd to make way, shouting Reggie’s name on the comms, pushing for the nearest entrance. The big letters above it read GATE D, and high above that is a giant Coke ad, the witless model grinning down at us. There are soldiers too, National Guard, scared and exhausted and holding big guns.