by R. T. Lowe
Felix was supposed to be in Biology, a two hour lab the professor deemed important enough to require the TA to take attendance. Felix never missed lab. Today, however, he had more important things to do than extract enzymes from plant tissue. He stood in the old library in the dull light of a gray afternoon, sweating despite the cold, staring down at a pile of amorphous silvery objects that once upon a time had been combination locks purchased from the local Walmart. For two weeks Felix had successfully played the part of a normal college student, no different from Lucas, Caitlin, Harper, and the kids in his dorm. He went to class, played hoops at the Bryant Center with Lucas and his football buddies, studied in Woodrow’s and partied like the world was coming to an end (though according to the news, the New Government had suppressed the last of the riots and had killed another eleven Numbered Ones).
But not all was idyllic in Felix’s world, and that was his reason for skipping lab and returning to a building he’d hoped to avoid since his last trip to Inverness had nearly ended in catastrophe. For the first time since his recurring dream of burning to death had tragically resolved itself, he began to have nightmares again, a horrifying vision of falling from an incredible height. In the dream, he had the ability to stop his descent, but when he tried, his powers failed him, and he awoke feeling the pain of slamming into the earth at terminal velocity. The dream had ushered in his old nemesis, anxiety, and though he’d tried to deny it, and then control it, his occasional bouts of pulse racing and feelings of panic had grown more intense and more frequent, affecting his sleep for fear he might do something terrible while unconscious (like burning his dorm to the ground). The meaning of the dream, and the reason for the persistent anxiousness, seemed fairly obvious, even to someone with only a semester of college psychology under their belt. As much as Felix loved being an ordinary college student, he hadn’t used his powers since unintentionally exploding Kane and Lilly’s heads, and the realization that the Source was fictional made him wonder—worry? stress out?—if his powers might be diminished, or worse, that he wouldn’t be able to call on them at all. And he couldn’t seem to shake the memory of how his powers had seemingly deserted him when Allison was battling the Protector in the chamber. He still believed it was just the effects of the drugs, but what if it was more than that?
Not using his powers was partly intentional so there was no reason to panic or conclude something within him had changed when he lost faith in the Source. The knife wounds to his arms had also healed at his now customary warp speed so he knew his passive abilities at least were functioning just fine. It was just easier to think of himself as a college freshman if he wasn’t moving objects with his mind, and of late, there hadn’t been any need to ‘go telekinetic’ on anyone or light anything on fire. For the first time in a while, no one seemed to have an immediate objection to his existence.
Despite not using his powers, Felix had been thinking about them a lot. A few days ago before meeting his friends at the Caffeine Hut, he’d found a quiet spot in the library and drew a timeline of when he’d used his powers, the specific powers he’d used, and the events that had triggered them. Staring at the line on the notepad with the descriptions shooting off like branches from a tree, it became abundantly clear there was no pattern or consistency. Sometimes he was too aggressive. Sometimes too timid. He was hesitant when the occasion called for decisiveness, and when caution might have been the better approach, he’d acted without conscience or restraint, for example, torturing the Protector Parni to death (and thereby allowing Allison to get thrown from a 700-foot sea cliff). In his defense, there were a few instances where he had employed his powers sensibly, but for the most part, they were driven by emotion, especially anger, but also fear and desperation. Instead of being smart and focused in the face of danger, he’d been relying on a strategy of ‘read and react’, and when that didn’t work and his life was on the line, he flipped a switch and lashed out blindly without regard to what he was doing or who he was putting in peril. His strategy, on reflection, was only slightly more evolved than the Hulk’s.
Felix honestly had no idea whose side he would join, but it seemed a near certainty that those he spurned would consider him a threat, and if he planned to survive and protect his friends, he would have to adopt a more analytical approach to his powers, not one driven by emotion or external factors. No more blundering into dangerous situations and waiting for someone to piss him off so he could go nuclear and then hope he would only kill the people (or monsters) trying to kill him or his friends.
So Felix went to work.
By the time he figured it out, the pale strips of gray light leaking around the edges of the bookcases blocking the windows had dimmed to black. The key to accessing his abilities, Felix realized, was reaching in, rather than reaching out. Instead of focusing his mind on creating a connection to a great power source beyond the stars, he centered his thoughts on himself and visualized what he wished to do. It was hit or miss at first, but when he began to marry thought and focus with visualization and purpose, his powers started to flow in a way he’d never experienced before, as though he’d been taking swings with his left hand only to realize his right was the dominant one.
The lump of Walmart steel Felix was manipulating reflected the light of the few working bulbs in the Victorian chandeliers as it jetted across the length of the cavernous room to the stone manteled fireplace and stopped. It flew, and then stopped flying, because Felix wanted it to. He directed it with thoughts, darting the object around the library to wherever he fixed his eyes. He was feeling much more relaxed now, his anxiety a distant memory that seemed little more than a foolish overreaction. Felix wanted the object to split into two pieces so he split it in half. He directed one piece over an upside down table and let it hover there. Wanting to see it burn, he ignited it, the orange flames burning bright, melting the steel, silver droplets hissing and smoking as they pattered down on the table’s underside. Out, Felix thought and he extinguished the flames, the object shrunken and instantly cold.
He stepped over to a long wooden reading table and jumped on top to survey the library, feeling as though there was nothing he couldn’t do. Without focusing on any particular item, he began swirling around everything that wasn’t attached to the floor in a cyclonic vortex. Old leather books, tables and chairs, twisted lockers and towering bookcases raced around the library, circling beneath the chandeliers, speeding and slowing at his direction. Felix stood there orchestrating the strange performance with his mind, gliding the chairs in figure eights, weaving them in and out and around the chandeliers, bringing the tables and lockers within an inch of colliding with each other before altering their paths.
Felix had an idea. Shield, he thought, creating a barrier in front of him.
Every last object crashed to the floor—but it wasn’t by design.
What the hell?
Maintaining the shield, he tried raising the objects again, and an interesting thing happened. Nothing moved on the other side of the shield, but a few items by his feet—broken chairs and some books—lifted into the air as if they were awaiting further instruction. He vanished the shield and all the contents in the room leaped sprightly off the floor as though apologizing for their earlier insubordination.
“What the…?” Felix muttered. Let’s try that again, he thought and conjured a shield. With booms and clatters, every item, large and small, fell to the wide wooden floorboards. He trained his eyes on a desk lamp that had found its way beside a window and directed it to fly across the room. It didn’t budge. He lowered the shield. He gave the same mental direction and the lamp blistered a path into the mouth of the fireplace where it disintegrated in a puff of glass and plastic. Limits, Felix realized, running a hand over his face. There were limits to his powers.
“I thought I’d find you here!” a voice called out and Felix saw Allison coming through the nearest doorway, walking toward him.
“Hey!” Felix jumped off the table and the loud thump echoed of
f the high ceiling.
Allison stopped, admiring the destruction in the room. “Glad to see you actually listen to me once in a while.”
Felix smiled. “You could’ve called me worse things than a ‘Restrainer.’”
“I did.” Allison returned his smile. “I think I called you the dumbest smart person I’ve ever known.”
“At least you said I was smart.” Felix took a seat on the table. “How’d you know I was here?” He glanced down at his arms. “I’m not bleeding or anything.”
“Better not be. I just got the last stitches removed.” She flexed her arm and sat beside him, waving at the smoky air. “I don’t suppose you could check your texts. We’ve all been looking for you. Lucas and Caitlin went over to Satler and then they’re supposed to go to the Bryant Center. I told Harper she should check the dead campus and she literally started to shake. Said she was terrified of it and would never come here. She’s such a fricken’… anyway.” Allison gazed around at the room. “This place is actually fantastic. I don’t know what she could be afraid of.”
“Where is she?” Felix asked.
“Library.” She flapped a hand. “The other one.”
“I wasn’t gone that long. Why’s everyone so worried?”
“The New Government just enacted the Bill of Freedom. It’s all over the news. People are going crazy over it. Seems like most are pretty happy, but Professor Hamlen’s supposedly doing a podcast tonight in some as yet to be disclosed secret location. The Opposition’s also flocking to those places they took over. You know, the Opposition sites? There’s like six or seven of them now.”
“Bill of Freedom?” Felix puzzled over the name.
“Wait a sec.” Allison pushed herself off the table and took her phone from her back pocket. “I want to get this right.” She tapped and scrolled. “Here it is. Okay, this summary’s pretty solid. The Bill of Freedom actually takes away a bunch of freedoms. How’s that for ironic? The freedom being granted—this shouldn’t come as a surprise—is freedom from fear.” She snickered. “In exchange for this awesome new fear-free society, the Bill of Freedom repealed the second amendment, the fourth amendment, the fifth amendment, the sixth amendment, the seventh amendment and the eighth amendment. The New Government basically just gutted the Bill of Rights.”
“Holy shit!” Felix whispered. “I knew Lofton wouldn’t be content killing terrorists and the enemies of society. What, um, what are those amendments anyway? I guess I don’t really know them by their numbers. What does all that mean?”
Allison scrolled down. “Yeah, I get them mixed up sometimes too. Let’s see—yeah, here it is. Here’s what we lost. The right to bear arms, freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures and warrants requiring probable cause, right to a grand jury for capital crimes, due process, right to a jury in criminal and civil trials, and freedom from cruel and unusual punishment. Some smaller stuff too, but those are the biggies.”
Felix stared at Allison, his mind spinning.
“Along with the Bill of Freedom,” Allison went on, “the New Government passed a whole bunch of new laws that would have been unconstitutional if not for the fact they just eviscerated the Bill of Rights.”
“Like what?” Felix asked.
“Like all guns are illegal.” Allison snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Seven days to turn them in. Then it’s a capital crime.”
“Capital crime?” Felix’s mind was still whirling and the amusement park ride he felt like he was riding picked up speed and then dropped in a freefall that left him reaching for the table to steady himself. “So if you’re caught with a gun, you get the death penalty?”
Allison nodded. “Don’t forget there’s no more trial by jury either. From now on, administrative judges will hear and decide everything. The ERA talking heads are claiming it’ll be a vastly improved process where professionals can determine guilt or innocence based on the facts. They’re claiming it’ll be fairer, that there will be fewer mistakes and that innocent people won’t be falsely convicted by juries who don’t understand the law and get confused by crafty lawyers.”
“How are they justifying the cruel and unusual punishment thing?”
“Easy,” Allison replied. “They’re saying the criminals have no boundaries so why should the law abiding folks. It’s that whole tough talking victims’ rights thing taken to a whole different level. And here’s the best part. If you don’t like it, or anything else the New Government’s doing to abolish fear, then you’re sympathizing with the Rejectionists.”
“Damn,” Felix said. “You think this was Lofton’s plan all along? Had to be, right? That’s why he manufactured all those mass shootings and everything. I thought he was just turning everyone against the Old Government. I didn’t think he’d, you know, change the Constitution. I thought that was supposed to be hard.”
“It is,” Allison said, “but Lofton must have had the wheels in motion since we were in kindergarten. The ERA’s takeover of the House and Senate has gotten so much of everyone’s focus no one paid much attention to the states, and then out of nowhere forty legislatures approved the changes to the Constitution so now it’s a done deal. Ratifying an amendment requires the approval of thirty-eight states. Don’t you remember that from our government class sophomore year?”
“No,” Felix answered. “But I believe you. I mean…” He hesitated, searching for the words. “Lofton just changed everything. Not only does he have the federal government and the states, he just tore up the Constitution. I know he’s, well, you know what he is, but I just never expected…”
“You wouldn’t believe how happy they all are. I think most of them are genuinely ecstatic to be part of the New Government, but you’ve gotta wonder if some people are just afraid to say what they’re really thinking. The Opposition’s making a stink, but everyone’s coming down really hard on them with that whole Rejectionist thing. Speaking of stink.” Allison cringed and pinched her nose. “What’s that smell?”
“Smoke?” Felix offered, glancing at the remains of the lock he’d torched.
Allison shook her head and pointed down at the floor. “You know what’s in the basement?”
“Yeah,” Felix muttered. He knew. Four Protectors left to decompose in a chamber that would only remind him of how his carelessness and stupidity had almost gotten him killed. He didn’t smell anything, but even in a building the size of Inverness, the stench would eventually find its way to the top floor. “You want me to ash them, don’t you?”
“It’d be dumb not to. Your DNA is all over the place. The smart thing would be to destroy the evidence.” Allison gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know you don’t want to go down there. I’ll go with you. I’ll even hold your hand if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Thanks.” Felix groaned and smiled back. He didn’t want to be confronted with his failures, but that was why he was practicing, and wounded pride didn’t seem a good enough reason to avoid facing the chamber.
“But it isn’t all bad news,” Allison said and her smile turned uncharacteristically coy. “The local stations are all reporting that a Numbered One’s been sighted in the same neighborhood for the past several nights.”
Felix gave her a quizzical look. “How is that not bad news?”
“Well,” Allison said slowly, “I was hoping we might find one. I have some… questions.”
“Questions?”
Allison nodded. “Since Lofton created them, maybe they know something.”
“Such as…?”
She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But they talk and they seem pretty smart, so maybe if we can, well, capture it and convince it to chat, we might learn something.”
Felix stared at her, wondering if she might have a different motive. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“There’s only one and we know what we’re getting into.” She glanced around the room again. “And it looks like you’re getting your shit together. Seems low risk to me. Besides, do you r
eally wanna go to another party tonight?”
“Yes,” Felix said seriously.
“Well too bad for you, because tonight we’re going on a monster hunt.”
Chapter 10
CUTTING CORDS
Oakmont was one of the oldest and most established enclaves in Portland. Felix and Allison circled the neighborhood in his Jeep to get a feel for the place and to make sure everything matched up with the Google maps they’d studied back at the dorm. Once they had a reasonably good grasp of the layout—a horseshoe shaped main road called Spoonwood with smaller side streets branching out like spokes in a wheel—they parked the Wrangler in the back of a Whole Foods between two dumpsters and proceeded on foot. On the drive from campus, they’d listened to President Kanter’s recorded address from earlier in the day. It was a progress report of sorts, detailing the stunning victories the New Government had achieved in recent days, including the successful suppression of the riots. The President had also lifted the nationwide curfew in the cities and towns, though the state of emergency was to remain in place for the foreseeable future. The Bill of Freedom wasn’t mentioned, and after the President concluded her prepared remarks, no member of the press asked her about the gutting of the Bill of Rights.
“I guess the locals didn’t get the memo,” Felix said as they made their way onto a wide sidewalk on Spoonwood, passing under a stately brick arch that spanned the walkway. “Don’t they know there’s no curfew?”
Allison smiled. There was no activity on the street, no cars and not a single pedestrian, not that they’d expected many at this late hour. “Who would’ve thought a little monster on the loose would have such a negative effect on late night walks?”