Super World

by Lawrence Ambrose

  Barbecue spare ribs and artichokes were on the menu that afternoon, and Jamie enjoyed watching Zachary gorge himself as if he were a starving man.

  "Look, there's something I wanted to mention to you," said Cal, as they downed some after-dinner wine, "and I don't want to spoil the mood – I'm guessing the last thing you want is to talk DARE business - but I've been talking to Madeline Mayes, and you two might have some perspective on what she's been saying."

  Jamie suppressed a flash of apprehension. "What's she been saying?"

  "Well, the gist is that Madeline believes she's been talking to an angel of God about an upcoming threat to our world."

  "She'd be standing in a long line of doomsayers, Dad. "What's special about what she's saying?"

  "Well, I thought she had lost it a bit from loneliness or something, but then a few weeks ago she told me there was going to be a big event by the ocean involving an evil man that would throw you into 'purgatory' but that you'd be victorious in the end. Which is exactly what happened, though it sounded completely nuts at the time. That's why I didn't say anything about it to you."

  Jamie and Zach stared at each other and then at him.

  "She's a clairvoyant?" asked Zach.

  "I'd say so. Like that young woman who clued your people at DARE headquarters onto Jamie." He paused. "Except she seems to believe she's on a holy quest – more like Brian Loving."

  Zach frowned at him. "Did she say anything specific about this upcoming threat?"

  "She says its from what she calls 'the forces of darkness.' Sounds like a cliché, I know, but in this case it seems a bit more literal, considering what NASA and you saw out in space."

  "And what's this force of darkness supposed to do?" Jamie asked.

  "Steal our souls." Cal shrugged in response to their skeptical stares. "I didn't say it made sense."

  Jamie and Zach traded frowns, but no one spoke for a while. Jamie wasn't sure what to say or think. It was tempting to dismiss Madeline Mayes, but it didn't seem smart to dismiss anyone claiming strange powers these days.

  "What do her son and Terry think about this?" Jamie asked. "I assume she's told them about her visions or whatever they are."

  "Thomas Senior is home with her right now, mainly because he's concerned about her 'mental welfare.' At least that's what he told me."

  "Terry hasn't said anything about her to me."

  "He's probably embarrassed."

  "Maybe she's misinterpreting her psychic abilities. Being religious, they might seem like messages from God."

  "That was what I thought," said her dad. "But considering that she saw your San Francisco battle and your going into 'purgatory,' she could be seeing a real danger."

  Jamie looked at Zachary and sighed. "Maybe someone at DARE should talk to her. Evaluate her visions or whatever."

  "That might not be a bad idea," said Cal.

  MADELINE MAYES wasn't eager to return to DARE headquarters, but after talking with Jamie and Zach, who'd gotten the go-ahead from Director Boltman, she agreed to fly back with her son, Thomas Sr., in a couple of days.

  Jamie and Zach's two days home went by far too fast for Jamie. To her it seemed that they'd barely set down in Grand Forks: a couple of nice dinners, several lovemaking sessions, and a few hours with their fathers – and it was over. Zach complained that his dad – he'd taken to irritably referring to him as "President Walters" - was so preoccupied with changing the college curriculum to suit a new wave of super-powered students that he'd talked about nothing else. Jamie was distressed by the fact that she wasn't much better than Zach's dad: she couldn't seem to keep thoughts of her work at bay for more than an hour or two at a time.

  Back at DARE headquarters, a war-room mentality predominated. Just hours before, Chinese troops had seized control of the Paracels Islands and Scarborough Shoal, at the same time launching a preemptive strike against Philippines Navy patrol craft, two U.S. combat ships, and a Japanese destroyer.

  No shots were fired – nor were any missiles launched. Instead, an estimated two thousand Chinese "military augments" – primarily flyers - struck near-simultaneously, disabling the ships' weapons systems. The ships had no choice but to surrender. Chinese destroyers, frigates, and Coast Guard removed the U.S., Japanese, and Pilipino crews to an unknown location on the mainland.

  "Two thousand augments," said Jake Culler, shaking his head in amazement. "That's brigade size. Almost twice the size of all our teams."

  The other Team One members mulling about in the Tactic Room murmured and shook their heads with Jake and watched the latest news on the television hanging in one corner of the room while Mort Anderson perched at the edge of his desk, arms folded on his chest, waiting for the hubbub to die down with a weary-looking half-scowl.

  "It's not the end of the world," he said when the room had quieted. "And it could've been a lot worse. China could've blown those ships out of the water."

  "And we could've blown their whole country straight to hell," Hulk Horner growled.

  "Which is one reason why they took the crew prisoners," Mort said with a bored air. "Now come the negotiations and China will get a bigger chunk of the ocean. Not everything it wants, but enough to pacify them for the next few years at least."

  "I didn't realize you were a clairvoyant," said Jake.

  "I'm multi-talented." Mort straightened up off his desk. "Look, ladies and gentlewomen" – he paused to note Jake and Hulk – "let's not get our panties all bunched up. Our military has its own super-power program, which I'm sure will do America proud and scare the hell out of the rest of the world as it always has. In the meantime, until told otherwise, we've got work to do here in the states."

  Mort hit the remote and an image popped up of Brian Loving speaking to the press outside an auditorium in Denver. He was being asked about growing reports of missing persons associated with the Last Days movement.

  "They are alive and well," said their long-haired leader. "They're in the loving arms of the Father. I can't say more."

  Mort switched off the TV. "Our friends down at the DHS and FBI just finished a hard identity check on six hundred people previously reported missing. They found none of them at their listed home addresses or their previous places of employment. No record of any bank or credit card transactions in their names since the time they were originally reported missing. Before that point, the missing person would usually make a large donation to the Last Days Foundation."

  "Surprise, surprise," said Jake Culler.

  It took a few moments for the implications to sink in. At first, Jamie had been sure he was going to say "they found no evidence of them missing." The final "large donation" before disappearing seemed ominous if predictable.

  "What do they think happened to these people?" Jamie asked.

  "One theory is that they were provided new identities," said Mort. "Another is that they're holed up abroad or in some remote area in the U.S. The kicker is that these hard searches were performed randomly out of thousands of missing persons reports. Therefore, the agencies fully expect that a hard search of the thousands of missing people will produce similar results."

  "That's a lot of people to give new identities," said Tildie. "But unless you have a Soylent Green factory, what would you do with all the bodies?"

  "Right. So you can see why our alphabet soup brothers are concerned." Mort returned to his perch on the desk. "The FBI attempted to bring in Brian Loving for questioning yesterday. Loving asked if he was under arrest, and declined to be questioned when he was told no."

  "So let's go ahead and arrest him already," said Jake. "He still hasn't registered with DARE, right?"

  "Correct. But arresting him for that falls under our jurisdiction. And by some coincidence, we have a warrant for his arrest, issued this morning," He tapped some papers on his desk. "We're going to do this quietly, at his home in Tucson tonight. He's been under surveillance 24/7 since the San Francisco events. He has minimal security at his home in the evening."

/>   "How much security does he need when he can vanish in an instant?" Jamie asked.

  "Exactly. I don't have to tell you" – Mort gave her a grim smile – "especially not you, the problems that a teleporter poses."

  "Sometimes they even forget to send you flowers on your second-month anniversary," Tildie said with a theatrical sniffle. Sitting beside her, Jay buried his head in mock shame.

  "Aside from their obvious personality flaws," said Mort, "our scientists believe they cannot teleport if their body has suffered significant trauma or if they're secured to an electrified object. Even a small voltage is sufficient to throw a wrench in their dematerialization phase."

  Mort opened a bottom drawer on his desk and dug out a pair of manacles. He dropped them on the desk top. "Meet EAR – Electrified Augment Restraints. The new state-of-the-art manacles for super-powered perps."

  "How are we going to get them on him?"

  "The strategy our brilliant DARE tacticians have dreamed up is two-part: the first part involves Sandman" – he nodded to Kyle Hunt – "who will either put Loving asleep or make sure he stays there. If that fails, Joy will do her "head games" thing with him. At the same time, you all will be armed with another science fiction toy from DARPA and its affiliate World International Security Corporation – Multi-Phase Projectile Rifle."

  Jamie frowned. The Team hadn't done much training with MPRs. It was hard to train much with the ever-evolving devices designed to restrain, injure, or kill "super-powered perps." The MP Rifle could fire ammunition of varying lethality – from electroshock to explosive armor-piercing rounds. In theory, they could be effective against Class 3 and some Class 2 strength/toughness, but would be mostly an irritant to anyone above that. And that was only in theory: almost none of the weapons or manacles had been field-tested to any degree.

  Mort went on to say that those on the arrest team would be issued MPRs with electroshock rounds. The electroshock rounds were basically a greatly amplified wireless version of a TASER: on contact, a fifteen-second burst of about 2200 watts – a bit more than an average outlet's output – was delivered through six prongs into the body, modulated for maximum nervous system disruption by a microprocessor. A shock that could easily injure or kill a normal human being, but was fairly tame by augment standards.

  Of course, Jamie thought, anyone with decent telekinetic skill could either break the weapon or stop the projectile, but realistically, in a combat situation even augments didn't always react quickly or precisely enough to repel an attack. You get several people firing MPRs at you at once, chances were good that one or more would get through. Then the question was the target's toughness. That was an unknown about Brian Loving. Jamie had decided that if Kyle's sleep-aid power failed, and Joy was not able to adequately disorient him, that she was going straight to telekinetics. She took no pleasure in the thought, but wasn't going to take any chances. It would only take Loving one clear-eyed moment to send one or more of them into oblivion. She wouldn't wish that on anyone.

  "So they decided that reasoning with him is out of the question?" Jamie asked.

  "Yeah." Mort stared at her. "His response to the FBI and the missing people – not to mention what happened to you at the hands of a teleporter - has changed upper management's views on that. Do you disagree?"

  "Not really. But it could get ugly."

  "If it does, just make sure the ugliness is mostly borne by him."

  "Yes, sir."

  "WHAT YOU seeing, young blood?"

  Steven didn't look up from the five laptops arranged in a semi-circle before him, as usual. What wasn't usual was the expression of growing concern, even apprehension, on the brainiac's face.

  "Patterns," said Steven.

  "No shit," said Thomas. "So what's bothering you about them?"

  "They shouldn't exist."

  Steven motioned to the five computer screens as if it were self-evident. And Thomas did see one obvious pattern: dozens of people preachifying seemingly as one in all the split screens.

  "I see a bunch of people giving speeches," he said. "Why the hell shouldn't that exist?"

  "Religious people, all giving essentially the same message?"

  "Repent or be damned?"

  "No. Choose to be saved and receive eternal life."

  "What's the difference?"

  Then Steven did glance up at him. Just for a moment, but it was enough to glimpse something akin to hopelessness in his eyes.

  "Ain't no call to look at me that way, brother Steven. You explain it slow and simple and I'll get it."

  "The message is too consistent in wording and essential meaning for different religious speakers. It's as if they're all reading from the same text."

  Thomas bent closer to the half-circle of computers. Problem was, he didn't speak fifteen different languages.

  "You can understand all of 'em?"

  "Yes."

  "And they all saying the same thing?"

  "Almost exactly. The authorities' response, however, differs from country to country, and some individuals have been suppressed. But their messages are all the same. That implies an underlying connection – a unifying principle."

  "They all Brian Loving stooges?"

  "Unlikely. All of them rose to prominence in their own countries near-simultaneously. That implies they are manifestations of a singular cause rather than causes of each other."

  "Hard to believe there's a bunch of people like that Brian Loving fool deliverin' the same message. He seemed more like one of a kind cat to me."

  "His abilities are a rare apex-level combination. That seems to be the case with many of these other religious leaders as well."

  Thomas paced back and forth behind him, trying to put it together on his own. It didn't make no damn sense, far as he could see, but he knew better than to disregard what his "left-hand man" had to say, no matter how crazy it sounded.

  "Hey, T," he called across to his friend, who sat like a black boulder by the back window, lost in his thoughts as he so often was these days. Man needed to get laid or something. "Come over here. Want you to see something."

  Tyler shuffled over with a flat expression. He stopped behind Steven, turning his attention reluctantly on the flashing laptop screens.

  "You're into patterns," he said. "Tell me what you see."

  Tyler focused with evident effort. His bored half-frown slowly assumed a puzzled curl at the corners. He leaned forward, his bulk forcing Steven to one side, squinting as his eyes darted from split-screen to split-screen. Thomas bided his time, knowing better than to rush his friend into stating an opinion.

  "I don't understand," he said finally, with a shake of his massive head. "They all talkin' as one."

  "That's what Steven just said."

  "But I don't know what they sayin'."

  "Same thing as Brian Loving, according to Steven. End of our lives is comin' so we better book passage to heaven before it's too late."

  "Must be the way people are dealing with being superheroes," said Tyler with a shrug.

  "Improbable," Steven stated.

  "Well, what the hell is it, then?" Tyler was much less appreciative of Steven's oracular comments than Thomas had learned to be.

  "An organized attempt at population control by an interested party."

  "What kind a party we talking about?" asked Thomas. Steven stared at him. "I mean, who are they? What do they want?"

  "Unknown. However, the large-scale disappearance of individuals associated with these religious groups – occurring in every country where news is available – implies a link between them and those responsible for the message."

  "So we talking Jonestown? Population control by the punk-ass Rockefellers New World Order bullshit?"

  "I rate as high the probability that this is a worldwide population culling program." Steven appeared hesitant. "But I have found no links between it and either governments or elite private interests."

  "What's left? Some religious group running Loving and all
the rest of them, trying to rid the world of sinners?"

  "While the Last Days and similar movements make liberal use of religious references and iconography, the underlying message seems devoid of sectarian content." He responded to Thomas and Tyler's blank looks. "The underlying message does not appear, at base, to be theological. It consists, essentially, of an appeal to choose to enter heaven now."

  "Yeah," Thomas murmured. "I been wondering what the hell actually happens if you take Brian Loving up on his offer."

  "I believe that is something we ought to discover."

  JAMIE'S TWELVE-person team entered Brian Loving's surprisingly modest home just outside Tucson from multiple points on a "no-knock" warrant, converging quickly on his bedroom with no resistance from the small security staff. The religious leader was nowhere to be found, and his staff declined to provide any clues as to his whereabouts.

  The team reconvened on a cactus-festooned hill a short distance from the house.

  "There goes my faith in the all-seeing eye of the NSA," Jake grumbled. "They spy on everyone 24/7 and they can't even keep track of one famous asshole."

  "Maybe that's because they're too busy reading Aunt May's email about how her tuna casserole bombed at the party," said Tildie.

  Amidst the disgusted grumbling and shaking heads one person sat rigidly still and silent: Kim-Ly.

  "Is she going into a trance?" whispered Kyle Hunt.

  Kim-Ly stirred a little as everyone turned their gazes on her. Jamie motioned them to silence. Kim-Ly did not respond well to pressure.

  Sometimes, Jamie had learned, being patient was the hardest thing about being a so-called "law enforcement agent." It wasn't quite as hard for her, a former schoolteacher, as it was for others – such as Hulk Horner, who was pacing around below looking like he wanted to take a swing at a colossal cactus.

  "I see him in a church," said Kim-Ly, her voice barely audible. "With many followers."

  "A Last Days church?"

  "I believe so."

  "Which one?" Seemingly hundreds of them had sprung up around the country in the last few weeks. Most of them involved no new construction – many weren't even churches – just large buildings the Last Days organization had purchased.