"Yes you will. It's what you do. It's who you are."
Even through his eyelids, Tyler could see the glow of the light that surrounded Marcus as he crossed in front of him.
Tyler opened his eyes. "I won't." The light died away, and Marcus was himself again, trembling in front of him. Tyler reached out and took Marcus' hands in his. "I promise."
______________________
When Tyler got home from work the next night, Becca was waiting for him. She had put out some candles, and made dinner.
"Heyyy, what's all this?"
She smiled. "I thought we'd have a quiet night, just the two of us. See, told you I'm not that bad, once you get to know me."
"Aw, that's sweet, but I can't stay. Have to get ready."
"Ready for what?"
"I'm meeting Blaine and some others for dinner, may go out to the club after." He kicked off his shoes and tossed his shirt over a chair. "You're welcome to come too, if you want." He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
"If I want," she repeated.
"Yeah, hey sorry I didn't know you'd have anything planned. You can stay here if you don't want to go. I'll be back later."
"Well thanks, that's really gracious of you," she said flatly.
"No problem, be out in a sec," he said blandly, and shut the bathroom door in her face.
______________________
The woman stepped down as if walking down a flight of stairs, only there were no stairs. Her legs moved gracefully downward until she stood on the roof.
Her dress was a cascade of red galaxies. Her hair was the tail of a red comet, flowing behind her as if she were flying through space. Her eyes were red stars, exploding in the night.
She approached Tyler, and gazed at him for a moment, as if considering what to do about him. Then she reached out a hand, and touched his forehead.
Red light exploded in Tyler's mind, and he lost consciousness.
______________________
When Tyler emerged from the shower, twenty minutes later, Becca had gone. The candles were blown out. Tyler got dressed, checked himself in the mirror, made sure he looked just right. A bottle of wine had been left out on the table, opened. He poured himself a small glass and drank it, then turned out the lights and left.
He locked the door behind him.
CHAPTER FOUR
The little blonde girl picked up the tiny teapot and held it out to her redheaded friend. "More?"
"Yes, please," said the redhead girl.
The blonde girl tipped the teapot over her little cup and held it tilted while nothing poured out.
They sat at a small blue plastic table, with the toy tea service set out in front of them, tiny plates and cups and teapot, with dolls sitting at the other chairs. The dolls had cups in front of them, and the blonde girl took great care to refill their cups with nothing too. After a few moments, she set the teapot down and they picked up their cups and gingerly sipped nothing from them.
"Mmm." The redhead girl seemed to like the taste of her nothing.
"Tiffany," a woman's voice called.
"What?" the redhead called back.
"Becca's dad is here to pick her up."
A man and woman appeared at the door. The blonde girl jumped up from her chair and ran to him. "DADDY!"
He picked her up and held her over him. "Who is this girl? Do I know you?"
"Yes!" she said, giggling.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm Becca!"
"Becca? You're Daddy's little princess!"
She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed, still giggling.
"Okay, honey, say goodbye to your friend."
"Do I haaaaave to?"
"Yes, we have to go." He set her down on the floor and she ran over to Tiffany.
"Bye," Becca said.
"Can she stay one more night, mom?" Tiffany asked.
"No, baby, Becca has to go home."
"Pleeeeeeeeease?"
"No." Tiffany's mother said firmly.
"Come on, Princess," Becca's dad said.
Becca put her arms around Tiffany and hugged her.
"Bye," said Tiffany.
"You're my best friend," Becca said.
______________________
Becca's hands clutched at her neck, but whatever was wrapped around it shocked her fingers when they got too close.
"Where am I?" Tiffany said. "How did I get here? What's going on?"
Unable to focus because of the pain, Becca could not use her power. She sagged toward the floor, putting her right hand out to brace herself. "I didn't do anything to you, you fucking idiot."
"Stop that," said Zachary. "It's not good to hurt people!" He reached out a hand toward Tiffany's head.
Tiffany whipped her other hand at him, and another lash of electricity flailed out, striking Zachary across the chest.
"Ahh!" He fell backwards against the table upon which she had been, knocking it over.
When Tiffany used her other hand, the whip around Becca's neck seemed to lose cohesiveness. She slipped out and stood, facing Tiffany. "You stupid bitch, you're attacking the guy who helped you."
Tiffany lashed out in her direction. Becca attempted to dodge, but the electric lash caught her across the legs, and she went down.
"I don't know what's going on, but I know you don't want to piss me off, Miller."
She brought the whip down on Becca's back, and the electric shock was enough to stun her. Becca's body hit the floor, knocking the wind out of her.
"You really don't."
______________________
"Here's your receipt, thanks." Becca handed the receipt to the customer and he stepped aside to wait for his order.
She brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "Can I help you?" she asked the next in line.
He was balding, maybe forty-five, wearing glasses. His thoughts entered her mind loudly: Damn, her tits are perfect. "Yeah, I want an iced coffee."
"Size?" she asked.
"Oh, large. Venti, I mean." God, I just want to squeeze them.
"Do you want any flavor added? Chocolate, vanilla, caramel?" She envisioned herself pouring the hot coffee down his pants while she made him hold them open for her.
"Oo, caramel sounds good, thanks." She's so damn sexy.
Becca leaned over the counter a bit. "Sure you don't want one of our breakfast sandwiches? They're really good." She flashed a smile.
Her eyes are incredible. "Sure, why not? I'll take one."
Chalk one up for her food sales. Too easy. Becca smiled and rang up the order, then handed him his receipt. "Thanks!"
"Thank you," he said.
Becca impatiently brushed the lock of hair from her face again. It wasn't even really bothering her, she just wanted to leave and it was making her irritable. She checked her watch: four hours left on her shift. Becca sighed in frustration. Since leaving Tyler she had struggled to live a normal life. She had gotten a regular job, an apartment she paid for herself, even a used car she could afford, but it hadn't been easy. All day at work she had to listen to the thoughts from her customers and co-workers ogling her, visualizing sex with her, freakish scenarios. Then was the standard blonde stuff, talking down to her in particular. If there was one thing Becca absolutely could not tolerate, it was someone talking down to her. She had made it so far, but her patience was wearing thinner and thinner every day.
"Can I..." Becca began, but trailed off as a thought hit her from somewhere in the coffee shop.
Now is the time. I'll set it off here.
She scanned the coffee shop, trying to find the person whose thought she was hearing. Finally, she saw him: a young man, early twenties, with long hair and beard. He was opening his coat to reveal something strapped to his chest, and a trigger in his hand.
Death to the capitalist pigs!
Becca vaulted the counter, seizing the man's mind with her own. He froze in position, hand outstretched with his thumb above the trigger. The startled c
ustomer in front of the counter fell backwards, knocking two others off their feet. Becca grabbed the bomber and threw him to the ground, hoping no one noticed the man put up no resistance.
She pulled the trigger away from his hand and held him pinned to the ground.
"Someone call 9-1-1!" a voice shouted.
Released from her control, the man shouted, "You can't stop it! There will be a reckoning!"
"Yeah, yeah," Becca said, digging a knee into his back.
Cell phone cameras clicked and whirred around her.
BECCA
"Is there anything you care about?"
"I saw that on TV!" Brandon said. "That was awesome! You're a hero!"
"I'm not a hero," said Becca.
"Oh come on," Brandon said. "You saved all those people. That's what superheroes do!"
She directed a harsh stare at him. SSHUT UP! I AM NOT A SUPERHEROO
Brandon looked around at the others, exasperated. "I'm just...I'm trying to say you did good, that's all."
"It was pretty cool," said Tyler.
"Well, now that I've impressed you two jackasses, I can die happy."
Tyler raised his hands. "Hey, hey..."
"None of this even matters," Mia said. "Before then, that's the important thing. The rooftop."
Becca folded her arms across her chest, biting her lower lip. "Right. The rooftop..."
______________________
Becca could scarcely hear over the howling of the wind around the rooftop. Sparks flew between them, soon forming a white arc of electricity that leapt into the sky. The point of light in the sky expanded to form a shimmering circle. A sound rose, like the sound of cracks opening in ice, only a million times louder.
Becca lifted her hands to cover her ears, but when she saw them she pulled them back to stare at them: they were child's hands. Becca began to whimper in fear.
She was a little girl again, wearing her summer dress from the ballpark, standing on a rooftop in the middle of a group of strangers, as a hole opened in the sky.
______________________
The electric lash struck Becca's back again and again. She tried to stand but couldn't, tried to focus her thoughts only to have them driven to the corners of her mind.
"Talk!" Tiffany said. "Tell me how I got here!"
"I...don't...know!"
"Stop hurting her!"
Tiffany spun around to see Zachary climbing to his feet.
"You again?" Tiffany's eyes widened. "How do you keep getting up?"
Zachary shrugged. "God helps me, I guess."
Becca couldn't resist a smile. Finally that guy was annoying someone else.
Tiffany scowled. "I'm gonna make sure you don't get up this time."
"I forgive you," said Zachary.
With Tiffany's back turned, Becca was able to push herself up on her knees. She grabbed one of the tables and hauled herself to her feet.
Tiffany reared back one fist, ready to lash at Zachary with the electric whip.
Becca reached out with her mind. Tiffany froze in place.
MMY TURN NOWW
______________________
"Can I help you?" Becca asked the next customer in line.
Her big hero moment had amounted to nothing. Reporters flocked to the scene, and she was on television non-stop for twenty-four hours, doing interview after interview. There was talk of her receiving some kind of medal, but nothing happened. Then the whole thing dried up and went away, and Becca was left taking orders for coffee again.
The chubby man in front of her perused the menu, or pretended to, at least. His thoughts showed something else: Dude, she is so damn hot...
Becca's shoulders sagged. She glanced at the next guy in line, and of course, his thoughts were the same, as were the next, and the next, and the next. One of them was even a woman.
"That's it," Becca said suddenly, taking off her apron. "Mike, I'm going on break!"
A short man with a bushy mustache looked at her disapprovingly from the door of the back office. "Kyle's already out there."
"That's very observant of you."
"We take turns is what I mean!"
"Well I'm taking my turn." She walked out the back door and shut it behind her, leaning up against it and staring up at the sky.
"You okay?" said a male voice from nearby: Kyle, her co-worker, younger than Becca, curly blonde hair, hint of a few pimples around his mouth. He held a cigarette in his left hand.
"If by okay you mean 'sick of this shit', I'm fantastic." On impulse, she added, "Can I bum one of those?"
"You don't smoke, do you?"
"I may start. I need something to keep me from hurting people."
He laughed. Becca didn't.
He gave her a cigarette and lit it for her. Becca held it in her mouth and inhaled the smoke, then blew it out. She thought she had managed it, but then she dissolved in a fit of coughing.
"Oh god," she said, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stamping it. "How do you stand that shit?"
"I don't know. It grows on you."
"Like a fungus," she said.
"Miss Miller?"
Becca looked to their right. A man had come around the corner of the building. He was tall, looked to be in his mid-fifties, short gray hair, mustache and beard. He wore a collared polo shirt and dark slacks. He appeared to be in excellent physical shape for his age, Becca could see definite muscle tone in his arms and even under the polo.
"Rebecca Miller?" he asked.
"No one calls me Rebecca," she said. "And I don't do autographs, sorry."
He smiled. "I'm not here for your autograph, Miss Miller." He withdrew a badge from his pocket and opened it: FBI. "You mind giving us a minute, buddy? I need to talk to your friend here."
Kyle put out his cigarette against the building. "Sure. No problem. I'll see you back inside."
Becca nodded. Kyle went back inside the coffee shop
Becca looked back at the older man. The first thought she picked up was loud and clear: She reminds me of Carol.
The corner of her lip turned down. "Okay, what is this? I've already been questioned by everyone and their dog."
"I'm not here to question you, Miss Miller. My name is Hal Shepherd. You can call me Shep. I'm here to recruit you."
Becca blinked. "What?"
"I'm here to talk to you about joining the FBI. About coming to Quantico and training to be an agent there."
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
He laughed. "I'm not kidding you, Rebecca."
"Don't call me that. I hate that. It's Becca."
She has a major chip on her shoulder, he thought. But she's smart. She has potential. "Rebecca's a good name. Who were you named after, your mom?"
"...Grandmother."
"Well there you go. Don't hate on your grandma's name." When she didn't respond, he continued. "You spotted that bomber when no one else did. In a crowded coffee shop, when you were taking orders. Most people don't have that kind of vision. They don't see beyond whatever's in front of them."
Becca looked down. He was right about that much, at least.
"Not only that, you took immediate action. You saved everyone in that shop."
"I'm not a hero," she said.
Again with the chip. This one's got some serious barriers up. "I'm not asking you to be a hero. Heroes get people killed. I'm asking you to use your skills to save lives. You have -"
"Potential, I get it."
He chuckled. "Yes, that." She reminds me so much of Carol...
Becca stood up straight. "Look, 'Shep' or whatever your name is, if this is some kind of horny old guy thing, where you try to impress me to get in my pants, let me tell you right now it will not work. I'm not calling you 'Daddy' or whatever other pervy shit you've wanked off to."
He looked appalled. "Wow. Well. Something happened to you, that much is obvious. I'm sorry."
"Who's Carol?" she asked.
"What?" He looked flummoxed. Did I
say that out loud?
"Just tell me."
"Carol is..." he cleared his throat. "Carol was my daughter. She died serving in Iraq."
Becca's face flushed. "Oh."
"She was a lot like you. Smart, pretty, very quick with a retort. Maybe not quite so hostile. But tough."
"I'm sorry..."
He nodded. "You know, some of the best students I've ever had had a tendency to talk and act without thinking. We can help you with that." From somewhere, he produced a business card. "You can go back to working in this coffee shop if you think that's your calling." He handed the card to her. "Or you can call this number, and we can get started."
She took the card and studied it.
"Thanks for your time, Rebecca Miller."
______________________
Faceless men stood on the other side of the opening in the sky. The one in front looked familiar. Becca began to cry, and the crying turned to sobs.
The faceless man was suddenly there before her. He leaned over her, reaching for her.
WHOOOOO'S THAT GIRLLLL? The faceless man said in her mind.
Becca wanted to scream, but she did not.
"You're not my Daddy...you're not."
The faceless man leaned over her, reaching for her.
______________________
"What happened?" Zachary asked.
"I got her," Becca said. "I'm controlling her." She could hear Tiffany's thoughts in her head: Help I can't move I can't move!
"I don't know what that means."
"It's my power! I can contol - never mind, I'm not explaining it to you."
"Okay," he said.
"Go ahead and do it. The message thing."
"I can't do it when she's like this," he said.
"Why not?"
"It's a message from God. I can't make her listen. She has to accept it."
Becca released an exasperated breath. "You never said that before!"
He looked puzzled. "Did we talk before?"
"Ughhhhh! I fucking hate you...." Becca clenched her fists.
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