Chasing Power (Hidden Talents)

by Pearson, Genevieve

  “Telawhat?” the salesgirl said, returning with a cami that was, in fact, dark pink, “I think you should be an extra-small, lucky girl.” The girl handed the cami to Sam and crossed her arms under her chest, making sure Lane saw exactly why she couldn’t wear that extra-small. Resigned, Sam pulled the cami on. The darn thing fit perfectly and did, in fact, match the light-pink top.

  “Fine,” Sam said, “We’ll take it.”

  #

  Finally, the car lot opened. Sam, being the most conspicuous, was to wait somewhere else. Al would have to go, due to his expansive knowledge of everything with wheels. After some discussion, they decided that Lane would go with Al and they’d buy the car together, using Lane’s mojo to make the process go smoother and, if possible, avoid any traceable paperwork. It was a complicated process, and it surprised Sam how quickly and efficiently the friends worked it out, with a little good-natured bickering and unspoken trust that it would work out fairly in the end.

  But it left Harry, once more, in the place of watching Samantha. Or protecting her. Depending on whom you asked. Lane felt Harry was protecting her. Harry, Sam guessed, saw himself more as a different type of guard. That didn’t bother Samantha. He was cautious, he worried over everything, and in that, if not much else, they were kindred spirits.

  Though he reminded Sam of a stuffed animal, the others considered him the big guns when it came to powers. Harry being the only one whose ability could do actual physical harm—despite the toll it took on him.

  Doing her best to hide her hair under a cap Lane snagged for her, Sam followed Harry to a bookstore café to wait. There they sat. Harry halfheartedly leafed through a magazine on cameras. Being a natural introvert like Sam, he didn’t feel the need to make stilted conversation and they sat in comfortable silence, reading.

  Once or twice, Sam felt, faintly, that slow build of energy, and with it, the migraines. The first time, she tried to dispel it by trying to move a coffee mug with no success. The second time, she reached out for her coffee, brushing Harry’s hand. The pain evaporated. Harry looked up and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  “Harry,” Sam whispered, “How do you do lightning?”

  Harry shrugged, “I don’t do lightning. I call lightning.”

  “All right, so how do you call it?”

  “First you have to create static electricity...” Harry said, and then launched into a very technical description involving charging ions and electromagnetic fields. Sam followed along, nodding. When he was finished, she leaned forward: “Can I do it?”

  Harry shook his head, “No. Lane said you’re a kinetic, like Al. Kinetics can’t control the elements.”

  Sam frowned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted to call lightning like Harry did. Her power so far seemed pretty lame. Al’s mechanical talents were somewhat useful but only on a small scale. Lane’s powers...she didn’t even want to go there. No, Sam wanted the flashy power that gave you some literal bang for your buck. “But Lane can read feelings and do TK, can’t he? Why can’t I have kinetic and elemental power?”

  “Lane’s an exception. He doesn’t like to brag, but there are very few dualies—less than one percent. None of them have elemental powers. And the fact that he has that slight kinetic ability actually limits his pathic abilities. You only have so much natural power to work with. It’s generally better to have all your power concentrated on one thing.”

  “You mean, a jack of all trades is a master of none?”

  Nodding his head, Harry picked his magazine up, signaling the end of the conversation.

  Boy, that guy didn’t talk often, but when he did, it counted.

  Car buying was never simple, even with special abilities, so it was over an hour later when the phone rang with the news that Al and Lane had found a car. Sam used about ten dollars of her dwindling bank account funds to buy reading materials for the car—totally worth it—and she and Harry went to the parking lot to meet the new car.

  Sam’s eyebrow went up when a curvy SUV pulled into the lot. The black car had a couple of dents and dings, but the skinny electric blue racing stripe and shine showed that someone had once thought of it as bad-ass. The huge brush bar added to the overall effect of butch overcompensation. But, contrarily, classy butch overcompensation. Al hopped out, grinning from ear-to-ear, “Isn’t this great?”

  Sam was shocked to see that the interior had been redone in black leather with coordinating electric blue trim and—“Is that shag carpeting?”

  “Yes, isn’t it awesome?”

  Actually...“I like it!” Sam chirped, jumping into the front passenger seat, “I love big cars. People get out of your way faster.”

  Harry shook his head in dismay, “I thought we were going for something low-profile.”

  “It is black,” Lane justified, “And Al said it was the best deal on the lot.” Al, unrepentant, started listing off the many pros of the car. Gas consumption, Sam noted, was not on the list.

  “It was a major deal, Harry,” Al concluded, “This guy sank all this money into the customization and defaulted on the loan. Repossession. Then the dealership didn’t know what to do with it—can you believe no one wanted this?”

  Harry gave the oversized tires a kick, “Yeah. Hard to believe.”

  Al responded to Harry’s sarcasm the way he always had— by pretending he hadn’t noticed it, “Wait and see, you’ll love it.”

  “Great,” Harry said, “The only thing it’s missing is an airbrushed barbarian woman.”

  “Oh! That would have been so cool!” Sam perked up, “Oh, but it wouldn’t have helped us blend in.” She amended sheepishly, catching Harry’s look.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Al said, “He doesn’t realize that this has a drive chain on the engine and that it could probably survive a mortar blast. Plus, they were happy to unload it on anyone since it was in a flood.”

  “WHAT?” Harry gasped.

  “Gullible, much?” Al said, “Look, Harry, we’re gonna take the brush bar and chrome junk off at lunch. After that, on the outside, it will be just another black SUV.”

  “But we’re leaving the racing stripe, right?” Sam asked.

  “That’s not exactly incognito—” Lane began, then saw the crestfallen look on Sam’s face, “Maybe we’ll cover it with electrical tape.”

  Sam sat back, pleased.

  #

  Lane took his place at the driver’s seat. Adjusting the mirrors he stole a glance at Sam. She’d climbed into the far back and had the first genuine smile he’d seen since the library. If this car can get that girl to loosen up, he decided, maybe it’s worth the flash. Fastening his seatbelt, Lane put the car in reverse and pulled out of the lot, “Buckle up, folks, I hope you all used the potty—we have some time to make up.”

  Lane was as good as his word. Once they hit the interstate he told Al and Harry to take turns looking for police and booked it.

  Samantha for her part, stayed awake long enough to quiz him over their course (up route 93, which, according to Lane’s phone, was the most direct way): “So we’re just going to try and outrun them?” she asked.

  “You have a better idea?”

  Lane watched Samantha in the rear-view as she shrugged, peering out the window, “We could detour maybe, try and lose them.”

  “Credit cards, telephones, skimmers, they have a hundred and one ways to find us,” Harry said.

  “So, I’d imagine that gives us a hundred and one ways to throw them off our trail. Like, say we gave our credit card to someone driving another direction.”

  This idea was met with silence.

  “No takers? All right, we’ll try it your way. For now.”

  They drove. And drove. Lane, as a means of keeping himself awake, tried to keep the conversation going. After an hour or two, Sam knew the basics for each of the guys. Al had three sisters, Harry was an only child, and Lane had a brother and sister. Al programmed robots, but he’d taken advantage of earned vacation time
to take this trip. Harry wrote freelance pop culture articles for various magazines and websites, a job he said was “entirely portable”, and Lane was on his last year of medical school, which had just let out for the summer. This last bit of information seemed to impress Sam a little bit. She gave him a probing stare, as though forced to reassess her original opinion of him. She probably thought I was a deadbeat, Lane thought, the way I was able to drop everything for this trip.

  For her part, Sam asked questions but refrained from sharing. When asked about her family, for example, her response was vague: “They’re not in town.”

  “Anyone going to miss you?” Lane probed, “Do we have to worry about someone filing a missing persons report?”

  “Hmm. No, we aren’t the type to keep constant tabs on each other.”

  It wasn’t until asked about her schooling that Samantha finally opened up: “I study finance and economics. Most of the students aren’t good at it, so the teachers love me. One of my teachers even got me an interview at a Fortune 500 firm. Though, it was supposed to be today,” she said wistfully.

  “Well, what company is it? N.T.U. has connections. They might be able to help you out.”

  “Allied Trust, Incorporated,” Sam responded blithely. Al did a spit-take, and Harry gagged. Lane nearly turned in his seat to get a look at Sam, turning and yanking the car back into its lane before getting everyone killed.

  “What?” Sam asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “That’s the Corp! That’s the company that’s trying to kill you!” Lane said.

  “Wait, the Corp is an actual corporation? That’s why you call them the Corp? Isn’t that a little easy?”

  “Well, it sounds better than ‘The Telekinetic Evil People Club’.” Al chirruped, wiping his face.

  Disbelief flowed off of Samantha, hitting Lane like a chilled Lane, “I don’t believe it,” she said, giving voice to her emotions.

  “Most people haven’t even heard—”

  “I’ve heard of them. Obviously. Even before I applied for the job.”

  “I hate to break it to you,” Al said, “but I don’t think you got it.”

  “Why interview me for a job and then kill me? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “They have their own motives. The rest of us are left guessing.”

  “And Allied Trusts, they use Talents in their company? Talents who can do things, like, say, read minds or open locked doors?”

  Lane nodded.

  “Ah.” Now Sam felt a few pieces falling into place. Allied was a private firm that owns a controlling share in a ton of mid-sized extremely profitable niche companies. They tended to do well in futures and markets that involve a lot of research.

  Since its inception twenty-five years ago, Allied Trusts, Inc. had regularly outperformed all of its competitors, regularly seeing double digit growth. It was routinely the subject of business magazine exposés, but so far its success had been pinned to vague reasons like synergy, or its organic business structure. But so what?

  “Being good at making a profit didn’t make someone evil,” Sam said. Quite the opposite. She could admire a company that could put a positive spin on what might otherwise be an ornamental gift.

  “It’s not just that they use their abilities for personal gain. They have a tendency to think ‘Might makes right’. And no problem kidnapping or coercing anyone who gets in their way.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  “Yes,” Lane said dryly, “You.”

  “I researched this company inside out,” Sam insisted, frustrated, “They don’t have any history of shady dealings!”

  Al quickly pulled something up on his cell phone, handing it back to her. Sam recognized Allied Trust’s corporate website. This particular page was a listing of personnel. Sam had never paid much attention to this page, beyond reading the names of the man who would be her supervisor and his supervisor. But there, near the bottom, listed plainly as VP of Special Projects, the name Garret Stone. Clicking on the name brought up a picture of a familiar blonde. His hair was shorter in the photo, but there was no question now: this was the same man who’d tried to kill her.

  “Oh.” The VP of Special Projects had tried to kill her. No denying that. Though she couldn’t help but wonder, wistfully, what might have happened if the company approached her with a job offer, rather than deciding to off her. A job would be nice. Especially one that paid well.

  “N.T.U. prefers to regulate the use of abilities so we don’t use them at the expense of others,” Lane said, not noticing her daydreaming, “It also provides a democratic framework so everyone gets a say in decisions that affect the community.”

  For a while, Lane, Al, and Harry continued to brief her with stories of the conflict between N.T.U. and the Corp—examples of why the company was evil. Personal anecdotes of their friends.

  Soon, though, Sam ran out of energy for discussion and listened only with half an ear as the conversation turned to other topics. She stared out the window, downed aspirin like they were candy mints (Lane stopped her after the tenth pill in two hours) and thought. But her brain kept spinning in circles. It didn’t make sense. The world felt like it had tipped upside down. Sam put her trust in numbers, in concrete things. Unethical corporations were common, but companies that actually took out contracts to kill random people? And three strangers she hardly knew put their lives on hold, and in danger, to help her. Evil people she could understand, but altruists? Those were unheard of in Sam’s experience.

  Chapter 9

  “I’m hungry,” Al declared.

  “It is almost lunch time,” Lane said.

  “Almost? It’s almost two. That’s past lunch.”

  Lane glanced at a mile marker. They’d made pretty good progress. Judicious speeding was starting to make up for the lost time spent buying the car. But they still had a long way to go.

  “OK, we’ll drive through something and then it’s back on the road.”

  “Actually,” Sam cleared her throat, “I have to use the bathroom.”

  “OK,” Lane said, growing a little impatient, “We’ll stop at fast food, use the bathroom, order food, and leave. In and out, really quick, got that guys?” A chorus of agreement rang out.

  It took another ten minutes to reach a town of any note. McGill, Nevada looked almost like a time capsule as they pulled in, with old-fashioned (mostly empty) storefronts and a few places under renovation. Mountains rose up close in the distance, snow-capped, but here, in the desert, it was still hot. As they pulled into the parking lot of a Lucky’s and opened their doors, Lane could feel the hot, dry air getting sucked into the car.

  “You guys go ahead.”

  No one heard him. Tired of being in the car, all three of his passengers were already making a beeline for the restaurant. Lane stepped out of the car himself, eager for a chance to stretch his legs and hit speed dial on his phone.

  “N.T.U. Informational Services, can I help you?”

  “It’s Lane, checking in.”

  “Lane! What the hell? They’re pitching a fit over here—did you hear what happened to your boss? Where the hell are you?” The voice went from businesslike to personal in a moment, but there was no mistaking Theresa’s bubbly undertone. She and Lane had dated in college, parting ways at graduation. They’d remained friends, as she went to work at headquarters while he pursued medicine.

  “I heard.” Seen, actually, but Tess would want details, and he didn’t feel up to providing them at the moment, “I found the Talent. The one on the bus. She’s in transition, that’s why there wasn’t any record of her.”

  “So what about the parents?”

  “She’s twenty-two, they’re out of the picture.”

  Dead silence on the other end. He could practically hear Tess raising an eyebrow, “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s true.”

  “OK, and now you’ve left town because you’re trying to get as far away from the upcoming explosion as possible
?”

  “Not quite. I’m bringing her in.”

  “WHAT? By yourself? You can’t do that. That girl’s big trouble and you know it!” Tess said, then, somewhat calmer but still tinged with worry, “Listen, Lane, I know you think you can handle everything, but maybe you should take a step back. You know what a nightmare late bloomers can be. Let me send someone else in, someone trained in handling difficult transitions—”

  “Can’t do that, Tess. Not enough time. Not to mention it’s dangerous. We got away from Stone by the skin of our teeth. And they went after Jacobs because they want her.”

  Tess didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. Everyone at N.T.U. knew. It was a frequent topic at the water cooler, whose friend had gotten rich and become distant after getting a job offer from the Corp, whose aunt or uncle met up with a mysterious accident after turning them down: “This just keeps getting better and better. Any idea why?”

  “No, that’s what I need your help figuring out.” Feeling the characteristic twinge he got whenever he’d caught someone’s attention, Lane looked back at the diner. Sure enough, Sam was staring at him intently through the window of the restaurant. Their eyes caught for only an instant before she turned away, pretending she hadn’t been watching him. Lane shrugged and turned his back.

  “Sorry, skimming isn’t my power, remember?”

  “But you do have access to locked databases I don’t. I want you to run a search on this girl. Her name is Samantha Gibson. See what you can find that links her to the Corp, and while you’re at it, see what else you can dig up about her past. She’s being less than forthcoming, and if I’m going to help her through transition, I need to know what to expect.”

  Tess sighed, “All right. I’ll brief the bosses and see what I can do. Bye, hon.”

  She hung up. Tess never had been one for long goodbyes. Snapping the cell closed, Lane pocketed it and went back into the restaurant.

  #

  It was supposed to be a quick stop, in and out. Of course, life never worked out that easily. Upon entering the restaurant, Harry made a beeline for the restrooms. Al, apparently misunderstanding the order of operations, went to order food and then found himself stalled out without the other two. Annoyed, Al decided to use the restroom as well, just as Lane came in to do the same. Unfortunately, there was only one “little boy’s room” and Harry was taking his time.