Blake released Quinn and let Darien go. The bully fell backward into Quinn’s arms, and Blake’s eyes returned to normal.
A moment later, Darien composed himself and shook his head to clear it. “You’re such a freak, Hargreaves.” Then, he wrenched himself from Quinn’s arms. “Get the fuck off me, faggot.”
“Darien,” Blake warned menacingly, his voice low and gravely. I should just end him right now…it’s not like Quinn’s going to tattle on me.
“There isn’t room for two bullies at this school, Hargreaves. I was first. The two of you can fuck off and leave me alone.”
“But you came to us,” Quinn said, arguing with Darien’s logic.
The bully stared at him for a moment, then waved him off dismissively. “Screw you, McAlester.”
Blake and Quinn watched Darien leave the locker room and then faced one another.
“How did you know?” Blake asked.
“Ravone overheard him bragging to Kyle and Tony about how your number was up. I was heading to my locker when I saw him walk in here. Since he brazenly confronted me earlier, I put two and two together.”
“You don’t have to check up on me,” Blake spat. “I’m not your problem.”
A moment later, three football players came around the corner, towels around their waist. “Everything okay?” Peter asked, the football star Quinn had saved from the capsized boat in the harbor.
“Yeah, just ducky,” Quinn said, frowning. He turned and made his way out of the locker room.
Peter pointed at Blake’s chiseled abs. “Whatever you’re doing for a workout, bro, I want your secret. You’ve packed on serious muscle faster than most of us.”
Blake nodded absentmindedly, mentally tracking Quinn’s path through the school. Next time, Darien…you die. I don’t care if Quinn tries to stop me.
❖
After school, Blake couldn’t get home fast enough to work through an idea that struck him in the middle of history class.
Sitting at his kitchen table with the three notebooks and his laptop in front of him, he grabbed a pen and one of his empty school notebooks from his book bag and started rewriting the information Melvin and the useful associate had given him.
After re-drawing the Venn diagram and adding the missing people from the second notebook, he had a much clearer picture of the Archimandrion Council, The Order’s hierarchy, and someone called Madame Presider. Unfortunately, there was no name listed next to the title and he couldn’t deduce one from the information he had.
Then, he grabbed his laptop and started Googling names. Most of the names were too generic and Google provided results from across the world. When he put the names into Facebook’s search bar, the system returned images of college kids or people far too young to have that kind of influence in The Order.
He looked back through the second man’s notebook and realized he forgot about the page of locations, all tied back to the names on previous pages. He added the locations to his new notes and resumed his search on the Internet.
With the locations narrowing down the search parameters, the Internet could more easily assist him and it provided identity, contact, and image data about the people called out in the notebooks. In addition to people, Blake realized some of the locations were facilities hidden in plain sight—including a few labeled reactor core.
Next, he opened the maps application on his laptop and started dropping pins at the various locations. He added names and other details to the pins and synced the laptop’s maps app with his phone’s maps app.
Sitting back in his chair, he smiled and reveled in his success, knowing he was much closer to usurping The Order than Victor ever would be.
❖
Victor
Two minutes to eight o’clock in the morning, Victor walked into the control room and checked the various statuses displayed on the wall-sized projection.
“Are you absolutely certain you wish to proceed, Hegumen?” Dr. Madison asked, her voice sounding tired. She sipped a cup of coffee at her workstation in the control room.
“The men are chipped?” Victor asked.
Dr. Madison nodded. “Of course.”
“Then proceed, Doctor. Commence primary ignition,” Victor responded.
Dr. Madison tapped a few buttons and then the sound of increasing energy oscillations resonated through the small facility.
“Put the core interior on the wall monitor,” Victor ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Arek responded. A moment later, the large, wall-sized projection shifted from various power readouts to a high-resolution camera feed of the reactor core’s interior.
On the elevating, circular platform in the center of the reactor core, two men, each wearing only black boxer briefs, stood facing one another, their arms tense at their sides.
“Reactor array at full power,” Miguel commented from his workstation.
“Have the men lock arms with each other,” Victor said.
“What?” Arek said.
“Have them put their hands on each other’s biceps. Do it now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Penny for your thoughts?” Dr. Madison asked as Arek relayed Victor’s instructions to the test subjects.
Victor turned around. “A hunch, really. If I was trapped in this thing with my best friend, would I stand there and look at him like these guys are, or would I hold on to him for dear life? The boys can sense each other. Maybe they were holding one another in some fashion. Maybe it’s the connection that keeps them alive during the infusion. Like I said, it’s just a hunch.”
“Ready,” Arek said.
“An interesting hunch, although the boys died after they were infused. We resuscitated them, remember?” Dr. Madison commented. Her console beeped, and she checked it. Then, she looked at Victor. “The chamber is ready, firing controls at your command.”
As he had done before, Victor stepped forward and approached the projected image, dwarfed by the nearly-nude men grasping one another’s arms on the projected on the wall.
“Proceed.”
“Auto-sequence initiated,” Dr. Madison replied.
All the noise and sounds of energy built up in the reactor stopped and silence ensued. Then, a blinding flash of blue and white light descended on the two men in the reactor core and overloaded the camera’s photoreceptors. The screen flashed off and on as the projection attempted to compensate for the unexpected brightness.
Seconds later, the light faded and the camera feed returned to normal, resuming its transmission of the two men on the platform as it descended to the main floor level. The men—still holding each other—appeared shocked, but they didn’t seem to have difficulty standing.
In fact, one of them looked up, presumably watching the array above them retract into the ceiling.
“Status?” Victor asked, feeling hopeful.
“Stand by,” Dr. Madison said, watching her monitors. “Vitals?”
“Vitals are consistent with anxiety and shock; increased heart rate, elevated epinephrine and adrenaline levels, and strained breathing.
“Get them out of there,” Victor said.
“Not yet, orgone radiation levels are still too high,” Miguel responded.
The men stood and let go of each other. They examined their fingers and checked over their bodies, as if making sure everything was intact. One of them ran his fingers through his hair while the other pulled the waistband of his trunks forward and gave a thumbs up to the other. They laughed.
We did it. Victor smiled. We fucking did it!
“Aim the Cloudbusters arrays to the northwest and recharge the reactor with a mega-fusion sequence. I’m going to need two more volunteers as well.”
“Uh, yeah, sure, right away,” Miguel replied, surprised at Victor’s instructions. He tapped some controls at his workstation.
“All right, I expect the men have roughly thirty minutes before they experience the symptoms Quinn and Blake did. When you two are finished with the arrays, mo
ve the test subjects to the medical bay for monitoring. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes,” Dr. Madison instructed.
“Yes, ma’am,” Arek said. He and Miguel finished pointing the arrays, grabbed their tablets, and exited the control room.
Victor turned to Dr. Madison. “We just reverse engineered the process two teenagers accidentally triggered when they stumbled into a reactor core on Labor Day weekend.” He extended his hand to her. “Congratulations, Doctor. We’ve made a huge step forward today, all thanks to your hard work.”
She smiled and shook his hand. “I admit my reluctance, but I stand by it. Regardless, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pushed me, but it’s a little early to pop the champagne. We’ll know soon enough if the subjects are viable or not.”
Victor nodded. “Of course.”
4-7 | Unexpected Revelation
Quinn
DADDIO SET HIS KNIFE AND fork down on his plate and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Wow, I’m stuffed. That was amazing, John. Thank you so much.”
“Ditto that,” Quinn said, smiling at his uncle.
“I could eat another steak!” Dad replied, sipping his red wine. “I’m unusually famished today; must have been my double workouts.”
“Well, there’s plenty more, Tim,” Uncle Mark said, gesturing toward the kitchen.
Dad laughed. “No, I’m good, really.”
“I’m glad you guys enjoyed it, but I hope you saved room for the tuxedo cake I picked up from Beach Pea for dessert,” John—Mark’s husband—said. Both Daddio and Quinn moaned with anticipation.
Quinn and his dads were enjoying dinner at Mark and John’s new luxury condo in Harbour Place, where they celebrated Daddio’s birthday. When Dad finished the last bite of his filet mignon and crossed his utensils in his plate, Mark and John busied themselves with clearing the table for dessert. Then, John brought out a bottle of Port and four glasses. Mark walked into the dining room with the cake, complete with one burning flame.
“I think you’re missing about eighty candles,” Quinn said, teasing his father.
Daddio looked at him with shock. “I am not eighty-one!”
Mark and Tim burst into laughter and John chuckled. Then, John said, “Oh, Quinn, don’t you know the world’s oldest axiom? Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill every time.”
“Uh-huh,” Quinn replied. They sang happy birthday to Aren and then he blew out the candle. Despite the full feeling in his belly, Quinn wolfed down the generous slice of cake Mark served him.
“I thought you were full,” Dad said, astonished.
“I’m a teenager. I’ve got a hollow leg for dessert.” Then, he grinned mischievously. “I might not be able to outwit old age and treachery, but a fast metabolism and great skin is still on my side, guys.”
“Rude!” Daddio exclaimed though a mouthful of cake.
After dessert, they enjoyed small talk until it became time to leave. Quinn and his dads exchanged goodbyes with Mark and John and made their way outside to Bow Street. A light snow was falling, and it already accumulated an inch or so. Portsmouth was mostly quiet that night, except for some unusual commotion near the water’s edge.
“Want to check it out?” Daddio asked.
“Sure,” Dad said. They walked across the small park and deck nestled between the two brick condo structures and approached the metal railings at the bank of the river.
A massive cargo ship, the kind that brought salt to Granite State Minerals on the Portsmouth side of the river, was listing away from the dock, seemingly caught in the rushing waters of the mighty Piscataqua.
“Is that ship coming loose?” Daddio asked, pointing at the scene.
Quinn studied it for a moment. Though the bow of the ship remained moored to the dock, the stern was pulling away from its moorings.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” Dad said.
Several sharp twangs pierced the night air and Quinn saw three moorings cables snap, spraying snow and ice into the air. The ship groaned in protest as the rushing river pulled the stern away from the docks.
Dock and ship crews scrambled together to secure the ship, but their efforts were in vain. Another set of cables snapped with a series of rippling twangs and the ship slowly swung out, pivoting at the bow, where only three cables remained. Caught in the outgoing tidal current, the ship rotated faster.
Oh crap.
“That thing’s big enough to do some serious damage to the Memorial Bridge when it slams into it,” Dad said.
“If only Blue Speaker were here,” Daddio replied.
The deck crews were scrambling to launch boats, but they looked too small and ill-equipped to stop the massive vessel without the help of the Moran tugboats—which were still in their berths.
They won’t get here in time. So, this is it, isn’t it? This is when I reveal my biggest secret to my dads.
It was clear his fathers wanted to watch the scene unfold, but Quinn knew he had to protect the bridge and save the ship. A pulsing alarm rang out from the Memorial Bridge and the road gates came down, shutting off the traffic flow. On each bank, blue lights flashed as police arrived and redirected traffic away from the bridge.
Quinn stepped back a few feet and checked the windows of the condo units around them. He didn’t see any gawking faces looking at him. He assumed most residents would be watching the cargo ship and not the ground. He pulled off his hat, gloves, scarf, and stuffed them into the left arm of his jacket.
He hesitated, swallowing nervously.
You can do this…even though it’s like coming out all over again.
The mighty cargo ship groaned as its aft section swung around and picked up speed, following the river’s course toward the bridge.
“Um, dads?”
“Yeah?” they said, not turning around.
“Uh…you know how I’ve been…um…lying to you recently?”
His dads looked at each other with confusion, then turned to face him. Quinn handed his jacket to Dad, who silently received it.
“You want to talk about that now?” Daddio asked. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“More importantly, what are you talking about, lying to us recently? Since when?” Dad asked.
“Um, since Labor Day,” Quinn answered, his voice slightly nervous. He shook his head as a thought rattled around in his mind. “More like, since the hospital.”
Quinn looked over his father’s shoulders at the fast-moving cargo ship. He shifted apprehensively on his feet and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.
“Yeah, well, it’s because, um, I’m…well, there’s no easy way to say this…”
Shit, I didn’t know this would be so hard.
“Why have you been lying to us, Quinn?” Dad asked. “And why are you choosing this moment to tell us? Put your coat back on.”
“Because I’m Blue Spekter,” Quinn blurted out, igniting his eyes, then illuminating his body from head to toe. “And I need to go stop that ship from smashing through the bridge.” His dads’ mouths fell agape and their faces filled with surprise an astonishment. “I’ll fill you in at home; I won’t be able to fly back here. Gotta go save the day…err…night.”
“Holy shit,” Daddio exclaimed as Quinn launched himself into the air and flew over his dumbfounded dads, soaring across the river and over the cargo ship to the aft end of the vessel that was closet to striking the drawbridge.
That went better than expected, I think.
Flying low, he found a tugboat point and placed his hands on the cold, metal hull of the ship and pushed hard. This is just like the Stratotanker, right?
The ship didn’t slow down.
He willed himself to fly faster, but the massive ship had gathered too much opposing velocity. Glancing behind him, he frowned at the fast-approaching bridge pier. Giving it all he had, Blue Spekter leaned into the hull with his shoulder and heaved his body against it, yelling as he exerted his super powers against the hull. The ship responded and slowed,
but it wasn’t enough to stop the ship in time.
The more Blue Spekter pushed against the stern, the more the bow swung around the pivot point he inadvertently created and threatened to reverse his problem. With the strength of the river catching the full length of the ship’s starboard side, he realized his problems were only beginning.
All right, new plan. I have no idea how deep this part of the river is, but if I can freeze a column of water, I might be able to keep this part of the ship in place, so I can deal with the bow.
When the aft section of the ship seemed to stop moving, Blue Spekter pointed a hand downward and blasted the river with ice power, creating a frothing, bubbling mass of ice that swung out from under him when the undertow caught it.
Dammit, catch something already.
Blue Spekter focused and slammed the water with more power. Moments later, the ice mass stopped moving and Blue Spekter sensed it anchor to the riverbed. With the bridge looming closer in his peripheral vision, a thick column of ice formed, and the ship’s hull came to a stop, gently bouncing against it.
Satisfied it would hold given the cold weather, he flew to the bow and leaned into the tug point, slowing the mighty vessel. Learning from his previous attempt, he focused and blasted the water with intense ice power, quickly creating an anchored column of ice in the river that caught the bow of the ship and held it in place.
Relaxing for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder and opened his eyes wide with amazement. He had stopped the cargo ship a mere twenty-five to thirty-feet from the piers and the drawbridge.
A popping sound from the aft ice column grabbed his attention and he flew over to it. Landing on the column, he sent ice power down through his legs and feet and reinforced the struggling column. A moment later, a Moran tugboat came around the massive vessel, but there wasn’t enough for it to safely maneuver into place. At the bow, a second tugboat came around. He flew over to the tugboat and hovered over the bridge house.
A crew member poked his head out of the door’s small window and shouted at him, making a cone with his hands. “You need to push the ship back so we can get in place, but you can’t let that ice rise to the surface. It could sink our tugboat or damage the pier when it breaks loose and floats into it.”
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