by S D Wasley
Fallout
The Incorruptibles Book 2
S.D. Wasley
Copyright © 2016 S.D. Wasley
Cover Art: Jay Aheer
Illustrator: Trevor O’Sullivan (Finnmacc.com)
Editor: Dominion Editing
ISBN-13: 978-1530535323
ISBN-10: 1530535328
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Dedication
To the January Girls.
Obstare
They are playing chicken on the railway line.
Three boys, about fourteen years of age. Two are of average height but the other is a tall, gangling kid with lank black hair. He has the appearance of someone who’s grown too quickly for his spatial awareness to keep up. His shoulders hunch as if he’s conscious of his awkward proportions. He wears a goofy grin and dirty black shoes with fluorescent yellow stripes.
It’s a quiet, unmonitored part of the track where the boys choose to play their crazy little game. First they mess around with pieces of metal on the tracks, cheering as the peak hour express trains flatten coins and washers. They hide in the shrubs that line the track whenever a train goes by. They know they must avoid being spotted by the drivers, who will radio for a security car to come round and clear them out. The boys are working up to the main game.
The idea is to stand on the track while a train rounds the bend, coming directly for them. They stand in a line, taking turns to be at the front. The rules say the first to jump clear is the chicken but they aren’t really worried about playing by the rules. They’re high on the idea of jumping out of the way of a speeding train. At this time of day they will get two, maybe three jumps in before a security vehicle arrives and then they’ll need to make a run for it.
They line up for their first jump, the tall kid still grinning. They shout at each other, pumped with adrenaline as they wait for the train. It rounds the bend, horn blasting as soon as the driver catches sight of them. When it’s about twenty yards away they all jump, laughing hysterically. Almost as soon as the train passes from view another train can be seen approaching from the other direction. Hastily the boys line up on the opposite track. This time they are more confident so the train is more like fifteen yards away when they jump clear.
They line up for their third jump―and it becomes apparent they aren’t alone. Three more people are there: a golden-haired, muscled young man, a beautiful redheaded young woman with other-worldly brown eyes and another man, this one of Asian appearance, solid and wise-faced. They’ve concealed themselves behind a billboard that flanks the track. They emerge, moving closer to the boys, who are so into their game they don’t even notice the newcomers.
I barely breathe in my position seated in Owen’s van, parked across the road from the railway line. Cain gives my hand a squeeze but doesn’t take his eyes off what’s happening on the tracks. It’s the first time Jude, Nadine, and Owen are doing this without him. Behind us Liz shifts to get a better view. A couple of days ago our only inkling that this rescue would be required was Liz’s vision of black shoes with a vivid slash of yellow. Then, the next day, came another: three kids, a railway track, and a bright blue flattened washer. Finally, this morning, Nadine saw the whole event.
“They’ve sneaked through a hole in the fence at the railway line just beyond the station for Phillis Avenue. The tall kid’s got a backpack with ‘Nerks’ written on in permanent marker―that’s his nickname. They start a game of chicken. The first two trains they play with, they jump clear with time to spare but the last train, it’s much closer and faster than they expect. The brakes spark and they jump, but Nerks catches his shoe on the track as he tries to leap. He gets wiped out, completely ripped apart by the train. It’s like an explosion of flesh and blood.”
This morning, before this rescue mission, we gathered at our meeting place beneath Gaunt House ruins. Nadine told us about her vision and we made our plan. We knew talking to them―warning them―wouldn’t work. The kids would laugh at us and come back some other time for Nerks to fall victim to his fate. No, these boys need the scare to stop them, so the plan is to wait until the third jump and rescue Nerks as he stumbles. Cain doesn’t seem concerned that Owen, Jude, or Nadine might not be quick enough to save the boy, or to avoid getting hit themselves. When they need to be, they are abnormally fast and strong, or protective and soothing―whatever is required for the rescue. I know this better than anyone. It’s only been a few months since Cain saved me from bleeding to death in a field.
Nadine has moved even closer now, watching like a predatory cat as the boys take their places for the third jump. The express train bears down on them under the blasting of the horn and that infernal shriek of metal-on-metal as the panicked driver hammers the brakes. Two of them realise it’s coming faster than they thought and make the jump, but the tall kid only works it out as his friends jump clear. Taken by surprise he launches himself after them. His oversized black shoe hooks on the metal sleeper and he stumbles.
In a flash of red Nadine swoops on him, practically flying across the track. She snatches the tall kid at almost the same moment the train roars by. He might be a cardboard cut-out of a teenage boy with the way she sweeps him out of the train’s path. The other two land and steady themselves, turning back to look at the train and shielding their faces reflexively from flying debris. The debris is shredded black shoe. Nadine releases Nerks and he hops around in a white sock, bewildered. She is glorious, red hair streaming out behind her, caught in a breeze while her face radiates a light with no apparent source. She says a few words to them as Jude and Owen come to stand beside her. The kids are mute with shock. After a few moments they all take off, running like frightened forest creatures, the tall kid limping along behind his mates, less one shoe.
Chapter 1: Invenire
The three made their way back towards us, radiating so much beauty it almost made my eyes hurt. Nadine was first inside the van. She gave Cain a huge grin and punched his arm. She was such a jock about the rescues.
“I need some serious junk food,” she declared. “Fried chicken springs to mind. Calorie loading. I love my superhero diet.”
I couldn’t help but think Nadine was onto something. They sure seemed superhuman to me. Owen started up the van and drove for Gaunt House under the usual noise and high spirits after a rescue. I’d been along for three of them now, if you included my own. The previous had been for Cain’s vision, his first since he met me eight months ago. God, I was so relieved when his visions returned. He saved a little girl from a backyard bonfire accident. Despite my joy and pride when he saved her I still found it hard to think about. The alternative would have been so horrific.
“We can stop for food,” Cain said. “Jude, Owen? You guys hungry?”
“Shit, yeah.” Jude nudged me. “Burgers, Frankie?”
“I’m okay.”
That sounded a little tenser than I’d intended. Liz glanced my way and gave me a sympathetic smile. She and I were the only normals left in the group now. We’d watched them change, one by one, into these perfect, potent beings with stunning strength and endurance, not to mention the ability to see complete, detailed visions of incidents they
could prevent. Liz probably thought she could relate to how I felt. She hadn’t transformed yet, after all; she still only saw snippets of visions that foretold tragedy and death.
But I was different. I wasn’t one of them. Yeah, okay, it seemed I had an uncanny ability to make sense of their visions. I was a good puzzle-solver. In fact, I’d been able to identify what the train-chicken kids were doing from Liz’s banal and brief fragments before Nadine had the full vision, but that didn’t exactly constitute a supernatural gift. If I was going to undergo the transformation I’d witnessed in Owen, Jude, and Nadine, it would have happened when I got shot. I had come to accept I’d always be a normal; just Francesca Caravaggio, tagging along with her group of super beings. Well, sort of accept it.
This was not a productive train of thought. I turned from it. I would keep doing whatever I could to help with the rescues no matter how limited my contribution. We drove back to our dugout cavern under the ruins of Gaunt House, stopping en-route for takeout. The drive took longer than normal because of roadworks near the tannery on the edge of town. The builders had taken down banners protesting the redevelopment in recent weeks and started work on a housing estate to replace the old plant. The tannery was a familiar sight and smell from my childhood so it was strange to see the old building clad in scaffolding, parked earthmoving machinery gleaming in the failing sunlight. Gaunt House was only a couple of miles from the tannery. Maybe our secret meeting place was next on the property developer’s hit list.
Inside, beers were handed around amid laughter and ribbing. I slumped into a beanbag, overwhelmed but Cain scooped me out, pulling me up onto his sofa where he kept an arm around me. Every time he touched me I got that same conflicted feeling, heart-racing-perfect-peace. I’d never get used to that. Cain, who understood how the rescues affected me, squeezed me close and kissed my hair. He smiled at everyone’s excited buzz while I slurped on my beer.
“Everyone shut up for a minute,” Owen said, raising his voice. “I’ve got news. My contact from Canada is coming.”
Cain tensed beside me and Nadine tipped her head, narrowing her eyes. “The guy who thinks he’s like us?”
Owen frowned at her. “There’s no thinks about it. I’ve been talking to him online for months now. He’s just like us.”
“He’s coming alone?” Cain asked.
“Yeah.” Owen looked pensive for a moment. “I think he’s struggling to find his group members or something. He’s like you, Cain. He’s seen their faces but he’s only found a couple of them. He doesn’t talk about them much.”
“Why is he coming?” Liz wanted to know.
“I get the feeling he wants to learn from us. His group’s visions are different to ours. He calls them premonitions. I think they’re less ... visual than ours. Also,” Owen hesitated for a moment before ploughing on, “I’m not sure but I suspect Léon believes his gift is God speaking through him or something like that. His background colours how he sees it, I guess.” Owen didn’t look at me but I figured he was thinking about me with my religious upbringing and how I’d thought they were saints. I shifted uncomfortably. “They were even using a medium up until recently,” he went on, “to try to help them channel the messages more effectively. But she took off. Maybe it was too spooky even for a medium.” He gave a half-smile.
“I don’t get what he thinks he’ll learn from us.” Jude had already devoured his burger and now lay back on a mattress, looking weary.
Owen shrugged. “Léon wants to see up close how we work as a group. His group hasn’t been able to save anyone yet. He said he wants to watch us record our visions and help us with a rescue, if possible.”
“When?” Cain’s voice betrayed his excitement. It would probably be a relief, maybe even a thrill for him to get to know this guy Léon. But it would also be surreal to meet the leader of another group like ours.
Owen shrugged. “He’s coming soon. He’s trying to get his life organised so he can visit. I’m not sure how soon but I offered him a place to stay. He’s a smart guy who reads a lot. I want to pick his brain for my research.” Owen’s Master’s degree topic was narratives on divine beings through history. He was pursuing the theory that people with unnatural gifts had been held up as saints, guardian angels, and miracle workers over the centuries. It was no coincidence he’d chosen this topic. He got the idea from my previous assumptions. “Léon’s group has struggled to put their visions together into anything coherent,” he added.
“They need a Francesca,” Cain said, giving me a smile.
Owen made eye contact with him. “Léon’s been really interested in Frankie, in fact. He thinks it’s extraordinary that she doesn’t have visions but can still help us put ours together so accurately. He’s fascinated that you never saw her face but she still helps us.”
I got that hollow feeling of isolation I always got when they mentioned my difference. “I wonder when you’ll find the other ones,” I said to Cain to cover my discomfort. “It’s been a long time since you found a new one. Nadine arrived what ... five, six months ago now?”
“I can’t picture the faces when I try. I wish I could remember anything at all about them but the moment I find the person is the only time I recognise their face.”
A thought occurred to me. “Wouldn’t it be weird if Léon was one of them?”
Cain’s brow puckered. “I don’t think it’s likely.”
“Have you ever seen a photo of him, Owen?” I asked
“No.”
“He has his own group. Why would he be part of ours, as well? I wouldn’t know what to do if that happened,” Cain said with a short laugh.
“I had a vision today,” Liz said.
That was the signal for everyone to quiet down. Owen reached for the notebook we used as a ledger.
“I was watching television this morning when I saw it. It was a couple of boys at a park. They were standing on a bridge over part of a lake, arguing by the looks of it. One of them was in a red hoodie. They were looking into the water, trying to find something, like maybe they’d lost or dropped something in there.”
Cain asked the usual questions about the weather, the lake, the position of the sun, types of trees, cars nearby, other people in the area, while Owen scribbled it all down. I listened absently but a spark ignited in my mind when Liz mentioned a specific detail: a boardwalk and sign.
“Market Lake,” I said. “Albion took me there last month. There’s a wetland boardwalk running through it, joining the shore with some of the islands in the lake. There are educational signs along the boardwalk about the birdlife and ecosystem, that kind of thing.”
Jude’s eyes lit up. “Frankie’s right, as usual. I sometimes walk there in my lunch break when I’m at Tech College.”
“I’m sure Jude had a vision about Market Lake a while back,” I said, frowning in an effort to remember.
Liz reached for the ledger and flicked back through its pages. It took a while but, sure enough, she found a vision Jude had told us about several months earlier when he’d been at Market Lake: a couple of kids approaching the ice cream kiosk, one in a red hoodie. We compared the details. If Jude had seen visions of those kids at Market Lake, and now Liz was seeing them too, it might only be a matter of weeks until the event. Maybe we could save those kids from whatever horrible fate was chasing them. I pressed myself closer to Cain, taking comfort from his clean, summer scent.
****
It was Sunday. Albion woke me up for Antonia’s cooked breakfast at the Main House.
“I wouldn’t have minded a sleep-in,” I said as I pulled on a robe.
He was dismissive. “You didn’t have a particularly late night this time. Midnight-ish, wasn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow as he held the back door open for me.
I defended myself. “I’m pretty sure I was back before midnight. But I only get to stay in bed on weekends, unlike you.”
“Why do you never stay all night at his place, Frankie?” Albion asked, peering into my face
. I pretended to be oblivious, gazing at the murky swimming pool. Albion was always at his interrogative best early in the morning. “It’s because you don’t want Dad to notice you’re staying out overnight, isn’t it?”
“I’m not staying out overnight.”
“Well, the two and three a.m. times you keep aren’t technically overnight, I guess but, let’s face it, you and whatshisname aren’t playing mah-jong and drinking lemongrass tea up that late, are you?”
My cheeks warmed up. “Albion ...” I said warningly.
“So what’s the deal? Is it true? You don’t want Dad to know in case he reports to Uncle Don?”
Annoyingly, he was exactly right. It would cause problems if Dad found out I was seeing Cain, especially if Uncle Max reported back that I was staying out all night. By sneaking in before daybreak I hoped to avoid Uncle Max’s notice. I huffed a sigh and stared more concertedly at the garden as we approached the Main House. Albion ignored my chagrin.
“Where does the guy live, anyway? I can’t imagine him in a modern bungalow or renovated townhouse, somehow.”
“He lives at the mobile home park,” I said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
It was only half-true because Cain didn’t spend a lot of time in the trailer he rented. He often rode around town after I’d gone home for the night. He didn’t sleep much, and when he did it was sometimes in his trailer, sometimes in the cavern under Gaunt House.
“A trailer park?” Albion’s eyes sparkled with repressed mirth. “And what does he do for a living, this lover of yours?”
“He helps out with maintenance work at the trailer park. Gets referrals for farm work.”
Albion gave a little hoot of laughter this time. “I can see now why Francesca is so keen to prevent Daddy finding out about the captivating Cain. He doesn’t have the best prospects in the world, hmm?”