“We need to get in through a window, then,” Schneider replied. “Think you can give us a boost?”
Kit nodded. “Easily. It'll be awkward, though. And we'll have to leave people out here to clear the rubble. I doubt we'll be able to get anyone out through the window.”
She turned to the two agents, both vaguely familiar. They were low-level agents, usually working in the facility as guards. Fortunately that meant they had useful powers; both men had a degree of enhanced strength.
“Rodriguez, I'm going to help you through the window first,” Kit said. The man blanched, probably embarrassed at the thought of a tiny woman picking him up as easily as a bag of groceries.
“Coffee,” she said, turning to the other agent, “you stay with me. We'll clear the door as fast as we can.”
They made good time from there. Kit barely felt the weight as she braced herself against the wall. Rodriguez was used to dealing with enhanced humans and didn't bat an eye when Kit effortlessly raised his entire weight. The only part that bothered her was the heavy tread on the man's boots digging into her laced fingers.
The medical team, however, goggled openly. Kit smiled as Rodriguez clambered through the window, amused despite the terrible conditions. Certainly not because of them; Kit had never been one of those people who, like Archer and even Ray to a degree, handled stress and fear through humor.
“Come on, Sarge,” Kit said with a wink. “Up you go. I promise I don't bite.”
Schneider didn't hesitate, though Kit suspected it was more from a desire to be seen as strong in front of her team than a lack of nerves.
After their leader was inside the rest of the medics moved easily. Kit tossed up the bags of supplies and tools they'd set down in order to fit through the window, then moved to the doorway. Agent Coffee had already begun work.
“You can keep on working where you are,” Kit said as the man made to straighten and make room for her. “You stay down here. I'm smaller, so I'll climb up the pile and start clearing from the top.”
Coffee craned his head to look at the roof of the collapsed space. “Looks pretty unstable, ma'am,” he observed. “You sure you don't want me to go in there?”
“It's fine,” Kit said. “I'm tougher than I look. Faster, too.” With that she made her way up the pile of debris.
They worked in quiet unison for what felt like a long time, Coffee steadily eroding the base of the slope while Kit tossed chunks of brick and concrete out into the narrow front lawn. She made sure to keep the arc of her throws well above Coffee's head.
For Kit the world moved at a snail's pace, making every minute seem like four. She knew Coffee would be seeing her toss debris at great speed, but knowing didn't make the time go by any faster for her. Ten minutes in real time passed before necessity forced them to stop.
The smaller pieces of stone had been cleared from the main mass of the blockage, which resolved into a huge slab of concrete. Nearly as wide as the entryway and six feet long, the thing was uneven but thick.
“What the hell?” Kit wondered aloud.
“Looks like a shitty patch job,” Coffee observed. “Probably the second floor hallway above the door. Lots of contractors don't think about how these old buildings are put together. I bet they were supposed to remove the floor up there and reinforce it, but just dug up a bunch of the concrete that was already there and filled it back in.”
Kit gave him an appreciative look. Coffee shrugged. “I used to do some contracting work,” he explained.
“Well, let's see if we can maybe pull it out a little. Then one of us can go to the other end and push, once we make some space.”
Coffee nodded and braced himself to Kit's left, fingers gripping the slab hard enough to cause a few cracks. Kit mirrored him, crouching low and spreading her arms wide. “We only need to move it a few inches at a time,” she warned. “Don't hurt yourself.”
Coffee nodded, and Kit gave a count.
“One, two...” On three they pulled, though even their combined effort wasn't enough to move the slab. It couldn't be strictly a matter of weight since Kit was strong enough to do the job alone. The bottom was probably stuck on something. Friction alone wasn't enough to stop them cold.
Kit pushed herself, trying to lift and pull at the same time in an effort to loosen whatever might be holding the slab in place.
The flood of Surge that filled her veins did not have the intended effect. Instead of the usual flush of power giving her muscles an extra boost, it brought an overwhelming sense of vertigo. Utterly unprepared, Kit vomited as the world became a confusing blur. She felt her body moving, spinning, and then something hit her in the face.
It felt like a building.
“Ow,” Kit mumbled as she regained consciousness. Her eyes opened to dimly lit concrete above rather than sky. The odd combination of motor oil and antiseptic filled her nostrils. A deep, powerful throbbing had taken up residence in her head. The sensation seemed to have settled in for a nice long stay, and from what Kit was feeling had set up business. That business was pain.
“You look terrible, in case you were wondering,” a cheerful voice said.
Kit turned from her back slowly, trying not to shake her scrambled brain.
“Wha—” she said, stopping mid-word. Her jaw was restrained by something, making it hard to open. She ran a curious hand around her face and head. Bandages wrapped around her temples in a headband, another running from jaw to crown. She looked at the speaker, who turned out to be Ray. He was sitting with his right ankle propped on his left knee, an open book in one hand and a cup of tea in another. He looked fine. Perfectly, insufferably healthy. Bastard.
His eyes twinkled. “I know that look,” he said. “You're grumpy when you're hurt, did you know that?”
Kit waved at her face and raised a questioning eyebrow, though she couldn't be sure he could see the expression given her current status as mummy impersonator.
Ray got the hint. “You hit your head super hard. Gave yourself a concussion on the way up, then a hairline fracture in your jaw on the way down.”
Kit frowned, which she discovered also hurt. Carefully forming the words, she slowly asked what he meant by up and down. Had she jumped in her confused state, slapping her skull against a wall?
“That's a little harder to explain,” Ray said apologetically. “When he called in your injury, Coffee said you flew up in the air all of a sudden, like somebody picked you up and tossed you. That's how you got the concussion. Falling back down after you were knocked silly broke your jaw. Though it's not a bad break at all. The doctor didn't want you to hurt yourself in your sleep. He said you can take off the wrap to talk if you're careful.”
More confused than ever, Kit nodded. She carefully pulled the elastic bandage further down, resting it in the crook between her neck and the hinge of her jaw.
“Why did they let me sleep if I have a concussion?” she asked.
Ray shrugged. “You were out when James brought you back here. They couldn't wake you up no matter what they did. The tests didn't reveal anything beyond the obvious injuries, so they observed you for a few hours and put you here. The nurse said weird things like that happen with injured Next sometimes.”
“What threw me into the wall?” Kit asked. “Was it another Next?”
Ray looked uncomfortable. “Kind of.”
“What does that mean?” Kit asked, irritated.
“He means it's my fault,” a new voice said.
Graysen stepped into view. Kit hadn't seen her due for the simple fact that she hadn't wanted to move her head if she could help it, leaving the cots on her right out of view.
“But you were here,” Kit said dumbly. “How could you have done this?”
“I didn't, not directly,” Graysen said. “After I caught you the other day, I had to check in with my proctor in the training program. I hadn't used my powers on another Next before, and when that kind of thing happens we're supposed to be tested and get a check up.”
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Kit nodded in understanding. That was part of the ludicrously detailed system of checks and balances the OSA kept in place to prevent accidents. Some Next could have adverse or even dangerous reactions to using their powers at all, or on other Next, or having another Next use their powers on them. The interactions and dangers were legion (and thankfully very uncommon), but the regulations were there for a reason.
She twirled a finger for Graysen to continue.
“Anyway, I went through all the tests and everything seemed fine, but when they had me use my powers on one of the doctors, they realized there was a side effect. Basically, because I didn't know what I was doing, my powers forced you to alter your own gravity. I guided you, but you were doing it partially yourself.”
“How?” Kit asked.
“It's complicated,” Graysen said. “Essentially my powers force the genes that make you Next to activate certain combinations that enable you to do what I do. It's rare, and I swear I had no idea.”
Kit pondered that for a little while. “Are you saying I can do what you can now?”
Graysen shook her head. “Not necessarily. What happened to you today was probably a side effect. When you pushed yourself, the extra power went into the circuit my ability opened up in you. The doctors say you'll go back to normal in a few days, maybe a week.”
Kit narrowed her eyes. “You're not telling me something,” she guessed.
Graysen sighed. “I spent an hour with your doctors and the ones who tested me. They told me what happened to you and we went over every detail and possibility. They talked about your powers and how they work, because they had to be sure you weren't going to have some insane reaction.”
“So?” Kit said, laughing quietly. “I don't care if you heard my medical history, kid. You saved my life.”
“No, what I meant was I know that you don't have a lot of power. Surge energy, I mean. Your body has changed a lot over the years, but the amount of Surge you can use to augment yourself has grown much more slowly.” Graysen hesitated, then threw up her hands. “They didn't want me to tell you, but I'm afraid if I don't, you'll do it by accident.”
She met Kit's eyes. “There's a chance you can force your body to adapt to my powers. If you keep using the Surge, it's possible you'll get a weaker version of what I can do. No one is sure what that would mean for your own powers. It could be really, really bad.”
Kit had no response to that, didn't trust herself to speak. She was a creature of habit and routine, comfortable with things changing slowly if at all. Her training and practice over the years had yielded a control of her abilities not often matched among Next. She took pride in not leaning solely on her powers as a crutch.
A deeper part of her, however, remembered the dream all children harbored at one time or another, and she wondered what it would be like to fly.
Archer showed up the next day to check in on her, the pair of them taking a walk to speak privately. The garage was filled to capacity, every cot containing a patient, so they ambled together outside. The weather was mild, the sun warming their shoulders.
“You're still benched,” Archer said before Kit could even ask. “Robinson put his foot down. He made it pretty clear you're to stay in medical until the doctors clear you or he'll break a foot off in your ass.”
Kit rolled her eyes but didn't argue. “I hate sitting in there with nothing to do,” she griped. “Especially when so many people out there need help.”
Archer laughed. “Have a high opinion of yourself, don't you?” he teased. “You're one person, Kit. You're one hell of a person, but still. You staying inactive for a few days so you can heal won't make a huge difference.” His expression sobered. “Besides, this isn't going to be over soon. The rescue effort is going well—better than we expected, actually—but the cleanup and rebuilding will take a long time. A lot of people will be homeless or without utilities for the foreseeable future. Nunez definitely knew how to hamstring us.”
Kit nodded. “That's the point. He wants us too busy to come after him. This won't be the last disaster he causes, you realize.”
“Yeah, given what he told you, we're thinking the same thing,” Archer agreed. “Robinson isn't about to sit back and let this bastard have his way, though. He's lobbying pretty hard to put together a task force to hunt down Nunez or at least limit the damage he can do. It's a slam dunk, really. At this point the only question is how large the budget will be.”
“Good,” Kit said, though her heart wasn't in it. A unit aimed at Nunez like an arrow, and she was stuck here.
“Ray was right, you are predictable,” Archer mused. “You get that storm cloud expression any time you're holding back your anger. I probably should have mentioned that Robinson wants you to lead the task force, which is why he wants to be sure you don't aggravate your injuries.”
Kit glared at him, then punched him in the shoulder. She decided against her usual gentle tap, slugging him hard enough to do damage.
“Ahhhh!” he shouted, laughing at the same time. “You tore something.”
“You'll heal,” Kit said with a smirk. “You fucker. Letting me get all worked up...”
Archer grinned as he worked the shoulder, the injury probably already gone. She'd seen him heal from being impaled in a matter of seconds. This didn't even rate.
“Couldn't help it,” he said. “Messing with you is one of the last joys I have in life.”
Kit looked out over the vast field where Fairmont once stood, past the distant form of the office building. She couldn't see Louisville from here, but it didn't stop her from looking.
“We're gonna get him,” Archer said, and Kit thought he was trying to convince himself as much as reassure her. “You'll stop him. I know it.”
Archer put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, an unusual gesture from the man. Kit put her hand on his, returning the gentle pressure. He left, returning to the mountain of work no doubt waiting at his desk, but Kit remained.
The sun burned low in the sky, blazing above the trees but nearly touching them. Kit let the light warm her face as she closed her eyes. She pushed away the worry. She forced the fear from her mind. The dark cloud hanging over the future wasn't so easy to forget, but Kit had never been one to shy away from grim possibilities.
Nunez might have been telling the truth, but had certainly been right about one thing; it didn't matter if he was. Everything Kit believed—everything she was—told her to fight. To prevent him from accomplishing his goals at any cost.
She took a deep breath and made her mind still, empty. The flow of energy she drew was thin but strong.
Kit rose into the air.
Author's Note
Man, what a year.
I published Next on April 1st of 2014. Right now it's early in the morning of April 6th, 2015. Just a shade over a year later, and the sequel is done. Not that I've been completely lazy since I did manage to publish the third volume of The Fall in that time.
Still, thanks so much for sticking around. I know it has been annoying for some of you.
As you may or may not know, I had surgery on my spine in October. Herniated disc, yadda yadda yadda. Recovery took a long time, and longer still to be able to sit and work comfortably.
Back, leg, and hip pain had been nagging me nonstop for 18 months. That's part of why I couldn't write as fast as I wanted. I didn't realize just how pervasive that pain was until it was (mostly) gone, but the proof is in the fact that I wrote about 70% of Damage in the last two months, my output increasing constantly.
As I've healed and been able to sit and work without pain, my productivity improved. Go figure.
I'm excited to continue writing in this world and in The Fall, my zombie series, not to mention the other books I'm planning down the road. I just wanted to use this space to show my gratitude. You're the best.
Joshua Guess (but you can call me Josh)
April 6th, 2015
ua, The Next Chronicle (Book 2): Damage
The Next Chronicle (Book 2): Damage Page 22