Tormented

by Robert J. Crane

  Peace? Me? Haha, right?

  But it was peace I was seeking, on an island off the shores of the Northwoods of Wisconsin. I took a breath of fresh air that was not in reality much different from the air I breathed every day on the campus of my agency, southwest of Minneapolis. But it felt a world different, like it had been imported from somewhere across the planet just for me, chilled in a freezer and puffed whole into my lungs.

  “Hell of a view, huh?” There was a guy next to me at the railing. I glanced over at him; he was a bigger guy, probably in his fifties, greying all around the temples but only salt and pepper up top.

  “It’s not bad,” I conceded. Call me paranoid, but I’m immediately suspicious of anyone who talks to me these days. Sign of the times.

  “You can’t beat it for peaceful,” he said, staring into the bright blue skies above. He was dressed in jeans and a polo-style shirt. Reminded me a little of my brother like that. “Nice place to get away from the rat race.”

  “Mmm,” I said, noncommittal. Why did people insist on approaching me? Wasn’t it blazingly obvious by now what a bad idea that was?

  “You’re her, aren’t you?” he asked, finally turning his head to look at me.

  “If you think I’m Taylor Swift, then the answer is no.”

  He laughed. “No, I don’t think you’re Taylor Swift.”

  “Good, because my singing voice? Not so impressive,” I said. “Also, I haven’t yet mined my personal romantic tragedies for lyrical gold.” Though there was certainly some fertile ground to work with in that area.

  The guy laughed again, a lilting, genuine laugh that drifted over me. “That’s a good one. No, I meant you’re Sienna Nealon.”

  I blinked, the wind off the water blowing straight into my eyes. “I’m Sienna Nealon,” I agreed.

  “Everybody’s got to get away some time, huh? Even you famous types.”

  I didn’t look at him. “We ‘famous’ people are mostly like the rest of you. Also, I might have gone with ‘notorious’ in my case.”

  “Mostly, huh?” he asked, with a trace of humor. “Put your pants on one leg at a time and all that?”

  “Well, no,” I said. “I sort of lift off the ground into the air and drift down into my pants like a falling leaf. But other than that, I’m just like you normals. Except I can explode into flames on command. And heal wounds in seconds flat. And—”

  He chuckled again. “Is snark one of your powers? Because it’s … strong with you.”

  “That’s one of my more human attributes,” I said and glanced at him. “One of the few, I’m told.”

  “It’s a good one,” he said, nodding. “My kids are like that, always got a good, dry remark about whatever we’re doing. It’s a nice trait to have on hand. Keeps things from getting too serious.”

  “Glad someone thinks so,” I said.

  “I’m Jake,” he said, drifting toward me and offering a hand. “Jake Terrance.”

  I took his hand gently, for just a moment, giving it a quick pump before letting it loose. He didn’t push the connection. “Nice to meet you, Jake. Your family with you today?”

  “Kids are all grown up now, but my wife’s already on Bayscape,” he said, gesturing to the swelling, tree-covered island in the distance. It was getting closer all the time. “Her name’s Sarah. We liked it up here so much she took a job as the local nurse. I just did a quick run to the mainland for supplies.”

  “You live here year-round?”

  “All the time now,” he said, nodding his head. His features were sharp, his smile warm. “It’s paradise. Like heaven on earth.”

  “Really?” I asked. “I heard in the winters the temperature gets down to—”

  He gave me a coy smile. “It’s very cold, yes.”

  I shook my head. “I can barely tolerate Minneapolis. Can’t imagine what you deal with.”

  He shrugged, still smiling. “Ferry shuts down when the ice gets out on the lake, and there’s only a few hundred permanent residents, so … it’s basically like being a shut-in for the winter. Kind of nice for a social outcast like my wife. I’d be lying if I said the solitude didn’t get to me every now and again.”

  I cast my eyes forward again, staring at the island ahead. I had two weeks to spend here, two glorious weeks of no work, no stress, nothing to do to fill my time but that which I brought in my bag—which was a tablet filled with movies and an e-reader filled with books. “Solitude might be nice. Is it crowded right now?”

  He nodded toward the trees in the distance. “Autumn’s creeping in earlier than expected this year, so the leaves are turning quicker than people thought they would. Place is pretty desolate now, but it’ll get busy this weekend. Even busier next weekend, even though the leaves will be mostly fallen by then.” He cocked his head at me, a little curious. “There are quieter places you could see the leaves. Hell, wait a few weeks and you’ll see them down in Minneapolis. Why come up here now?”

  I opened my mouth to draw breath and answer, but found I couldn’t find a way to easily explain it. “I … just needed to get away for a while.”

  “Mmhmm,” he said, nodding like he knew. “You’ve got one of those jobs that demands all, I suppose.”

  “Something like that.” I pulled my arms close around me as the chill of the wind felt somehow more powerful, more penetrating. My job certainly wasn’t demanding much of me at the moment. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  He slapped the rail with one hand and stood upright; I could tell he was looking for a polite exit. “I suspect you’ll find what you’re looking for here.”

  “I could use some solitude,” I said, looking off into the distance again.

  “Well, there are the places on the island you could go where you won’t run into another human being—if that’s what you want. But during the summer we’ve got all the bars and restaurants and small-town charm you could hope for if you change your mind. Nice to meet you, Sienna,” he said and started to pull away. “I hope you have a peaceful stay.”

  “Thank you,” I said, struggling to remember his name, “Jake.” He wandered off toward the back of the ferry, where the cars were parked. I watched him go out of the corner of my eye, and as soon as I was alone, I turned back to the front to stare out at the glistening lake. “I hope so, too.”

  2.

  Reed

  The Minneapolis-St. Paul airport had a burned smell that hung in the air like a particularly heinous oven accident, the kind that always seemed to follow my sister’s cooking attempts.

  I’m sorry. That was crass. Tasteless. Way too soon.

  There was still smoke billowing out of the terminal when we got there, what seemed like a hundred fire engines parked out front. Flight operations had been shut down, and the FBI had taken forever to call us for some reason. Like handling crazy meta stuff wasn’t our specialty.

  My fancy shoes were tight on my toes as we made our way toward the international flights area from the baggage claim, our guide hustling along in front of us under a cloud of annoyance. I don’t know why he was annoyed; I always thought Agent Li’s beef was with my sister, not with me, but since he’d greeted me and my partner pretty gruffly at the terminal loop, I had started to assume that he was just this kind of person. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it before when we worked together.

  “Man, the tension in here is almost as thick as the smoke,” Augustus Coleman said from beside me. He looked a little uncomfortable dressed up in a suit. I was damned sure uncomfortable in mine, but going to a scene like this, we had to project a certain standard. I had my hair back in a ponytail and everything. It sucked. “What is up with you two? Failed romance?”

  “With him?” I pointed at Li. “Dear God, no, he’s not my type. I always thought he hated Sienna for killing his college roommate, but now I’m starting to think he’s just got a bug up his ass.”

  Agent Li stopped and wheeled slowly around to face us. He looked cold as ice, like someone had chiseled him right o
ut of a block of the stuff and set him out for display as a sculpture to be judged on lifelike realism. I gave him a five out of ten. Not human looking enough. “I’m trying to get to the business at hand. Did you want to stop in the middle of this terrorist attack and have a conversation about how much we must have missed each other since we last worked together? Should we pause for a beer?” He pointed at the Summit Brewery down the terminal, tables knocked over during the evacuation still lying on the ground. “Reminisce about the old times when we were trying to survive a war against overwhelming odds?”

  “Hey, man,” I said, “I’m totally down with your standoffish and straight-to-business nature. My partner, though, he’s new to government service. He hasn’t seen the inter-agency pissing matches yet.”

  Li just gave me another cold look. “I’m not in a pissing contest with you. This case is all yours. It’s very clearly in your jurisdiction, and I wish you luck with it and all your justice-bringing endeavors.”

  “Dude,” I said, turning to Augustus for comic effect, “did you know we’re supposed to be engaging in ‘justice-bringing endeavors’? That feels like a memo I missed.”

  “Man, I’m missing a class for this,” Augustus said, suddenly impatient. “And it’s been a few years since I last took an American government course, so I feel like missing lectures could cost me when it comes to my grades. Can we get on with it?”

  “You’re in a freshman survey course,” I said. “It’s five hundred people in a crowded auditorium. Find the cutest studious-looking girl in the room, put on the charm, and ask if you can see her notes. It’s a great opportunity. Also, try and remember that we work for the executive branch. Should make things easier on the first test.”

  “I already got a girlfriend,” Augustus said, clouds darkening above his eyes. “Can we move on now? Feel like I’m in an episode of Law and Order: Special Metas Unit.” He tried to adjust his suit; he still looked uncomfortable.

  I looked at Li and shrugged. “It’s not good to see you again, Li. Let’s catch up never. Lead on.”

  Li just shook his head and went back to walking down the terminal. Augustus and I followed in our own silence.

  As we drew closer to the place where the incident occurred, the smell got thicker, heavier. It invaded my nose and filled my mouth with a charred taste. I held an arm up over my nose and watched Augustus do the same. Li didn’t, but metas have a far more developed sense of smell than humans do.

  “This way,” Li said, leading us right into a hallway into the customs area. There were luggage carousels side-by-side, more suitcases than I could count practically falling off them. Ahead, past a checkpoint, the air turned even smokier. There were glass offices placed just this side of the checkpoints, clearly designed to allow for surveillance of the luggage carousels and the customs lines through windows.

  The windows were shattered. Glass glittered on the floor all around the far end of the conveyors, and Li led us gingerly through to the office on the left. I could see a scorched crater beyond, in the place where the customs line had been. I paused as Li brushed into the office through a shattered glass door and stared into the space beyond. I’d been through here more times than I could count on the way to various destinations. It was never a pleasant return trip. The lines were always absurdly long and they were always undermanned. They’d recently modernized by adding some sort of computer check-in system, but they hadn’t taken out any of the other customs-check steps, so the result was even longer lines, an apparent exercise in stupidity.

  “What are you thinking?” Augustus asked me quietly.

  “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world,” I said, “she had to walk into mine.”

  Augustus looked at me warily. “Quoting Casablanca in this context makes no sense, unless this exploding person was an old girlfriend of yours.” He straightened up and bristled. “Also, if you tell me to ‘Play it, Sam,’ we’re going to have words.”

  “I did have an ex who was somewhat explosive,” I said. “But I was talking more in terms of … why this airport? Of all the ones in all the world? Or even the U.S.? Is that just a wild coincidence? Minneapolis isn’t exactly the best target—or the biggest.”

  “You think this dude’s trying to get our attention?” Augustus asked.

  “Not ours,” I said. “We’re nobodies.”

  “Pffft,” Augustus said. “Speak for yourself. I’m somebody.”

  “We’re not as well-known as another person who works with us, that’s my point.”

  “Or as hated,” Li called from inside the office. I glanced over to see him staring at me, unimpressed. “You gonna just sit out there all day and have a conversation? Because I can wait right here, I guess. I don’t have anything else going on in my life or job that’s of any import, really.”

  “Cool,” I said. “Because we might be a few minutes.” I then made a point of ignoring him.

  “You think this dude blew up the Minneapolis customs line because he wanted to get your sister’s attention?” Augustus asked, giving me what I liked to call his You must be shitting me look. “There’s got to be an easier way.”

  “Than killing a whole bunch of people?” I asked. “Doubtful. That’s practically the only way to get her attention. Be better at her shtick than her.”

  He blanched. “That’s cold.”

  “But it’s true,” I said, shrugging my way into the booth with Li. “Truth hurts.”

  “Hey, lies hurt, too,” Augustus said. “And if you don’t believe me, go call some biker’s momma a whore and see what happens.”

  “We have footage of the incident,” Li said, ignoring our discussion. I could tell he was annoyed. Augustus could tell he was annoyed. Anyone in earshot could tell he was annoyed. They could probably feel his annoyance down in the bathroom stalls in the airport mall. “At least up until the security cameras were destroyed.” Li stood next to a monitor. The picture on the screen was frozen, but at the touch of a button it moved forward. “Suspect enters the frame here,” he pointed to a shorter guy wearing a suit. I couldn’t see much in the way of detail on his face, but he was at the very, very back of a long line when he entered the frame. “We have some footage of him deplaning, too, and he’s staggering around like he’s drunk.”

  “Flew first class?” I asked.

  Li shook his head. “Coach all the way from Amsterdam. He only ended up on this flight at the last minute; his earlier scheduled one was canceled and he was rebooked. We’ve got people on the ground in Amsterdam gathering information on his stay right now, but it’s the middle of the night there. It’s slowing things down.”

  Credit to Li; he was a pro. Annoying and armed with a personality that I wouldn’t choose over hugging a cactus whilst naked, but a pro all the way. “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Benjamin Cunningham,” Li said, picking up his clipboard. “Age 27. Lives in Roseville, Minnesota, which is presumably why this is the gin joint he chose to explode in.” Li stiffened. “Though … based on the footage, I’m not sure he chose it.”

  I stared at Benjamin Cunningham as he made his way through the line. Li had the recording on fast forward, and the comically quick motion of people milling about in an extremely slow line was the only hint that it was moving at abnormal speed. Because that line? It was molasses on the shores of Lake Superior in January: not going anywhere fast.

  When Cunningham reached the electronic kiosks, we finally got somewhere. He started to rub his eyes heavily, like he couldn’t see. An employee came over to help him, and they looked like they were squabbling. “What’s that all about?” I asked.

  “I can only give you the bad lip-read version,” Augustus said.

  “Microphones?” I asked Li. He shook his head.

  Cunningham finally rejoined the line, looking like he was staggering side to side. If he wasn’t drunk, he had something else terribly wrong with him.

  “Hey, did that dog take a dump in the line?” Augustus asked, pointing to a
gap in the people ahead of Cunningham.

  “Unconscionable,” Li said, shaking his head. He looked genuinely offended.

  The three of us watched as Benjamin Cunningham staggered right into the dog pile, realized what he’d done, exchanged words with the people around him, now almost doubled over and pawing at his eyes.

  Then he burst into flames. They covered his skin, draping him in orange fire from head to toe. There was a flash, and less than a second later, the screen went straight to fuzz.

  “Looks like a Gavrikov,” I said.

  “That man had a bad day,” Augustus said.

  I looked at him with pure WTF-ery. “He had a bad day? How about all those people he scorched into nonexistence?”

  “He didn’t even look like he could see straight,” Augustus said. “Unless you think he stepped on that dog poo intentionally?”

  “No one steps in dog poop intentionally,” Li said.

  “Coprophiliacs,” I muttered.

  Li froze. “Well, then he wouldn’t have been angry enough about it to explode, would he?”

  “You assume it was linked to anger,” I said. “It might not have been.”

  Li looked like he was about to pull a Cunningham and blow up on me. “You know damned well that Gavrikov-types typically manifest when presented with strong, uncontrollable emotion.”

  I blinked. “I … actually did not know that. How did you?”

  Li let out a sigh of exasperation. “Because I did the damned required reading back when I had your job.”

  “Now there’s required reading?” Augustus asked. “I got enough coursework to deal with as it is. Did you know they try and weed you out in freshman and sophomore years just so they can keep the graduation ratio down? They don’t give you a tuition refund, though, do they? I’m starting to smell a scam.”

  “You mean you picked over FBI files that you didn’t bother to give the rest of us access to?” I asked Li.

  “You had access,” Li said evenly. “You just never went looking.”