Chosen Different (Book 2): Different Strong

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Chosen Different (Book 2): Different Strong Page 19

by Nat Kozinn


  I’m hoping that Captain Murphy doesn’t call my bluff—it was a good one. If he does, there’s still a decent chance Larry will cover for me anyway. He’s good at thinking on his feet and lying to government men is old hat for him. On the other hand, he never returned my phone calls after I was arrested, so I’m not sure if I can count on him.

  “Does that explain why I wasn’t able to raise you on think.Net late last night when I called everyone else and told them to get in early?” Captain Murphy asks. His tone is indicating it doesn’t matter what answer I give.

  “There were some problems with think.Net last night. A few of the Librarians got the flu, and it messed the system up for anyone whose information was stored on those individuals,” Linda chimes in. She’s not much of a liar.

  “God, you people think I’m stupid.” Captain Murphy says and rubs his face. “I might not be a Different, but I did manage to graduate kindergarten. Do you really expect me to believe this B.S.? How about you, Victor? Do you have your own set of lies to add to the mix? What do you say Gavin was up to?”

  “Gavin was out there risking his freedom, and based on that new wound in his side, maybe even his life. Why don’t we both shut up and let Gavin tell us what he was doing? Go ahead and talk, Gavin. Captain Murphy is going to hear it one way or another,” Victor says with the conviction only someone who wasn’t in on my crime could have.

  I’m caught red handed. It looks like the truth is my one possible defense. So I go ahead and talk. I tell them about following Rose, his attempts to burn down the house, him admitting that he was involved in the cover-up. Then I tell them the most unbelievable part, that William “Billy the Kid” Jefferson has been committing all the murders. I have to repeat that last part a half-dozen times.

  “Gavin, there’s no easy way to say this, but I think you might need to seek some sort of professional help. I don’t know if there’s anyone who specializes in treating Differents, but if there is, we’ll find them. This OEC office will stand with you,” Captain Murphy says. I’m both touched and offended.

  “He’s not lying,” Linda says.

  “I know he believed what he said. That’s why I’m so concerned,” Captain Murphy says. And he is.

  “I went inside his head while he was talking, and he showed me the visuals. I’m no sports fan, but even I recognize William Jefferson. There’s no doubt that’s who it was,” Linda says.

  “This is nuts. You’re telling me a basketball player who has been dead for seven years has returned as a serial killer? It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Captain Murphy says, his eyes wide

  “He went missing and was presumed dead. They never found a body, just a suicide note,” Victor replies.

  “Are you saying you believe this Victor? You’re telling me Billy the Kid faked his own death, and now he’s targeting Differents to what? Try to avenge his dead wife and baby? He’s out of luck. Danny Libdo killed himself along with most of the Minneapolis Metro Area when he exploded,” Captain Murphy says.

  “That’s how hate works. It’s not rational,” I chime in.

  “How’s he managing to kill all of these Differents? They couldn’t all be Gammas, some of them must have been a threat. Hitting a three-point shot is a far cry from killing someone a hundred times stronger than you. How’d he get so good at killing?” Captain Murphy demands.

  “Rose said he spent most of the last seven years in Eastern Europe training to be a killer,” I tell them.

  “I don’t find it hard to believe at all. I met him a few times at charity events back in my playing days. He was the most intense and driven person I’ve ever met. William Jefferson was the kind of man who could do anything he set his mind to by sheer force of determination. I have no doubt he would make as good a killer as he was a basketball player,” Victor says.

  “Let’s say I believe all this, a big assumption, what do we do next? The police aren’t going to take Gavin’s word for it, perfect memory or not. And the other person who could corroborate the story, Detective Rose, is lying dead somewhere in the slums. And if William really is the professional killer you say he is, that body is long gone,” Captain Murphy says and throws his hands up.

  “Might be for the best. The L.A.P.D. could try to pin it on me,” I say.

  Everyone nods in agreement. I was witnessed assaulting Rose, and interfering with his investigations. I’m a lock for the position of prime-suspect in his murder.

  They keep talking, but I zone out. I’m getting a think.Net call from Maria. I wonder if she found the gun shop that’s been supplying William.

  >>>Gavin, what side of the building are you on? I just got here.

  <<
  >>>You don’t know? Check the news. There was an explosion at an Ultracorps lab. I think it’s the one you used to work at. It’s bad.

  I end my conversation with Maria, and think about accessing breaking news. The alerts ring in my head: there was a massive explosion at my old lab. Hundreds are missing.

  “Are we boring you, Gavin?” Captain Murphy asks.

  “There’s been an explosion at my old lab. Might be hundreds dead, lots of Differents,” I say.

  “That’s terrible,” Linda says, “I’m so sorry to hear that, Gavin. Should we finish this conversation later?”

  “I’ve got friends there. I‘m going to try and help,” I say and start heading out the door.

  “Like hell you are! That is not your job. We are not emergency services. I am ordering you to stay here!” Captain Murphy demands while stomping his foot.

  “Order all you want. I’m going.”

  “And I’m going with him. You can either tell your superiors that both of your agents aren’t listening to your orders, or you can say you decided to have compassion and send us to help. You can pick which way you want to go,” Victor says.

  We both head out of the office while Captain Murphy ponders his powerlessness.

  #

  My old lab looks like pictures of Germany after World War II, which is one large pile of rubble. If I close my eyes and try to connect the dots between what’s left standing, there still isn’t anything resembling a building. What could have caused such damage?

  “The investigation is still ongoing, but based on where the blast came from they’re thinking a Different lost control of his abilities. Peter Warsall, an Energy Producer, is the top suspect,” Maria says. There’s so much confusion and commotion, I guess she thinks it’s safe to talk to us without being spotted by her judgmental cop coworkers.

  “They think P-Dub did this? I knew him, and there is no freaking way. The explosions he could generate were barely big enough to kill a house cat,” I say.

  “That’s the story until someone can come up with a better explanation,” Maria says.

  “Like a bomb placed by a psychopathic, serial killing, former NBA MVP?” Victor asks.

  “It’s safe to say the three of us are alone on working that angle. We can’t get too carried away with that theory though. We don’t know what happened here. It’s important to keep an open mind,” Maria says.

  “Are there any survivors? I can’t get through to any of my friends who worked here,” I say.

  “Not many. A few people walking on the street got away with relatively minor injuries. It was such a big explosion, there isn’t much hope,” Maria says, then she realizes she’s talking about people I know. “But it’s still possible. Who knows what you Differents can do? And I’m sure think.Net is just jammed up by all the activity here. Emergency services gets first priority on bandwidth. That might be why you can’t get through.”

  “Why aren’t the crews searching through the wreckage yet? People could be trapped under there,” Victor says.

  “We’re still waiting for the okay to move in. They’ve got some specialists checking to make sure there isn’t going to be another explosion,” Maria answers.

  “I’m done waiting,” I announce.

  I start climbing through the
rubble up towards the center of the pile, Victor following behind me. I’m not moving very quickly. My thigh injury is still slowing me down.

  “What’s the plan here?” he asks.

  “I’m going to the center. It’s the furthest I can get from all of these emergency workers and their racket. Then I’m going to turn my hearing up as high as I can and see if there’s anyone making noise in the rubble. Then you can help me dig them out,” I say with authority. I’m not sure when I became the one deciding on a plan, but it makes me proud that Victor is willing to listen.

  “I can speed this up,” Victor says, and then he grabs me by the waist of my pants.

  In two leaps he jumps to center of the pile, carrying me like a bag of luggage. He is so freaking strong.

  “Thanks, now don’t say anything. I’m going to turn my hearing way up.”

  I drain all of the fluid from my tympanic cavity, which makes my eardrum much more sensitive. Then I push my brain’s focus off all of the sounds I hear in the distance, and hone in on what’s closer to me. I can hear the rubble settling into place and water dripping through the debris. I hear something else too, a rhythmic tapping.

  I signal Victor to follow me, and I head towards the source of the tapping. The sound of the steps Victor and I take are deafening. I’m damaging my eardrums, but I can heal those later. If someone is trapped under the rubble, they might only have a few minutes before they succumb to their injuries or suffocate.

  We arrive at the source of the tapping, and I point to where it’s coming from. Victor starts tossing aside chunks of B-Crete that weigh hundreds of pounds. As he digs, another sound becomes clear. It’s a voice. Sarah the Crash Test Dummy?

  “Help! We’re down here,” Sarah yells.

  “Hang tight! We’re coming for you,” I promise.

  “Hurry! Gary isn’t going to last much longer,” she replies.

  I turn down my hearing so my eardrums don’t explode and join Victor digging. It takes a few minutes to reach them. The last bit of rubble is a Maceo Steel support beam. Victor and I get in position to lift the beam.

  “On three. One, two…” Victor says.

  Then the beam is thrown upwards from below. It is Gary. He has been holding the beam up to protect the people underneath it. He saved Sarah, Dr. Cole, and two other lab employees I don’t recognize. Everyone besides Sarah is in bad shape. Gary looks like he got it the worst. There’s a Maceo Steel pipe piercing straight through his chest.

  “Gary, oh my God, hold on!” I yell.

  Victor and I help the other four survivors out of the pit. Sarah helps lift Dr. Cole out. He’s unconscious.

  “We’ve got to get them some medical attention,” Victor says as he throws Dr. Cole and one of the other employees over his shoulder.

  “I’ll help,” Sarah says. She props up the healthiest employee. His leg is badly injured. He leans on Sarah as they start making their way out of the rubble.

  “Bring back help for Gary!” I yell after them.

  I climb down into the pit to join Gary. He’s still breathing, but it is labored. I don’t think he’s going to make it.

  “Hey Gavin, how’s the celebrity life treating you?”

  “You know the public. My fifteen minutes are about up. I might have to pay for that drink we had planned.”

  “That’s okay, I probably shouldn’t be drinking. It’ll just flow out of the pipe,” Gary says with a laugh that quickly turns to a horrific cough.

  “Hang in there, Gary. Help is on the way.”

  “For someone with complete control of their body or whatever, you’re not a convincing liar.”

  “The hell you say. It’s all I’ve been doing lately. Besides, what do you know about lying?”

  “More than you think, Gavin. I have to tell you something, and it isn’t easy. I’m lucky I’m going to die afterwards.”

  “You can tell me later in the hospital.”

  “Gavin, listen to me!” Gary yells through his labored breaths. “You were right. You were right about everything. Nita did ask me to make friends with you. She wanted to know what you were up to. I’m pretty sure she knew Becky was alive when you went after The Beast. I’m sorry, man. If it helps, it started as a job but I kept hanging out with you because I liked you.”

  “That isn’t possible. I already asked you about all that, and you told me I was crazy. You weren’t lying. I can tell when someone’s lying.”

  “Not as well as you think you can. If it helps your pride, Nita had to train me to hide my tells. Larry helped.”

  “Larry was in on it to? What about Sarah?”

  “I don’t think Sarah knew, but I can’t be sure. I don’t even know what the ‘it’ we were in on was. I just knew that having Nita on my side was good for me.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “That’s not the worst part… It’s The Beast, Gavin. He’s alive. That fall messed him up, but he was still breathing. I carried him to some Ultracorps facility and put him in a room made of Maceo Steel. Nita made me do it,” Gary says and slumps his head forward.

  “Where was it? Where did you bring him? You have to tell me,” I demand.

  Gary starts to speak, but then his eyes roll back into his head.

  “Gary!” I say and give him a shake, but get no response.

  Three medical workers jump down into the pit and join us. They go to work quickly, putting an oxygen mask on Gary and attempt to stick a needle in his arm but it breaks on his skin. I step back so they can do their job. I don’t know what the treatment regime is for a large pipe impaled in the chest, but I’m guessing there’s not much they can do. It‘s made of Maceo Steel, so cutting it isn’t even an option. He starts to fade away, quickly. It took his last ounce of strength to summon the courage to tell me the truth.

  I climb out of the hole, my mind struggling to comprehend the new information. Gary befriended me because Nita wanted him to, but why did Nita want to keep tabs on me? More importantly, what is she doing with The Beast, and where is he? He doesn’t deserve to live after all the things he’s done. God, do I wish I knew how to contact Nita. Although, maybe it’s for the best that I’ll get some time to think about what I’ll say to her.

  Victor sees me staring off. He walks up and puts his hand on my shoulder. We make our way out towards the police perimeter together.

  “Do you know him well?” Victor asks.

  “I’m not sure. We were friends, or I thought we were. I don’t really know.”

  “We never know which deaths will hit us the hardest. Do you still think you’ll be up to look for evidence? We’ll have to wait until the police leave, but they seem happy to blame it on a Different. They aren’t even considering the possibility of a bomb. We’ll be on our own looking for fragments or some other clue. I’ve got some experience with explosives, but not much. Hopefully that cop friend of yours knows what she’s doing. You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I can push the emotions out of my mind. I’ll be fine.”

  #

  Gary’s funeral has a quiet, somber tone befitting the situation. The crowd is made up of a few friends and loved ones, those that are still alive at least. I’m lucky Captain Murphy let me out to attend. He wasn’t too happy about us running out on him. I spot people I assume are Gary’s parents sobbing over the largest coffin I have ever seen. There are some fellow Strong-Men here to show their support, and it’s a good thing, because they’ll be needed to lower the casket into the ground. I spot Jason Jackson in the crowd. It brings back memories of going out with him, P-Dub, and Gary to the Cabotist bar. Now those last two are dead, and P-Dub is still being blamed for the explosion. I wasn’t his biggest fan, but nobody deserves to die with blood on their hands that doesn’t belong there.

  The police still aren’t taking the bomb theory seriously. Maria says they’re doing their due diligence, but it seems like everyone would be happier if we could pin this all on P-Dub, call it an industrial accident, and move on. Maria sounded e
xhausted the last time I spoke to her. I think she’s spending all her free time trying to find evidence to prove it was a bomb. I told her she should stop wasting her time; if it really was Billy the Kid, he’s proven that he’s a pro. He’s not going to leave a trail of breadcrumbs back to his lair. We aren’t going to get that lucky. I should stop thinking about this. I should be thinking about Gary. He deserves that much.

  I spot Sarah in the crowd. She bears no sign of the bomb she survived a couple of days ago. She’s standing with a middle-aged man I don’t recognize, although there is something familiar about his red hair... Larry Rosen! My old teacher. I head over to stand with them.

  “How’s it going, Dummy? Larry?”

  Larry gives me a nod.

  “Hey, Gavin. I’m okay, I guess. How about you?” Sarah says.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a non-smart-aleck comment come from her mouth. The look on her face betrays how she’s feeling. She looks like she might rather be in the coffin. She was popular in the lab. I can only imagine how many funerals she’s gone to the last few days. Only six people who were inside in the lab survived, and she’s the only one who was able to walk away. She wasn’t even taken to the hospital. It’s because she’s a Regenerator, but that doesn’t seem to be alleviating her survivor’s guilt. If only her body could heal from emotional trauma as well as it does from physical injuries.

  Larry walks over to me, his chin hanging low. He steps close to me.

  “Gavin, I’m so sorry about your coworkers,” Larry whispers. “And I know I’ve owed you a phone call for awhile. Any chance I can take you to lunch? Pay off the debt with a free meal as interest.”

  “I don’t know. I’m busy, and I don’t think I’m allowed to go to lunch right now,” I say back stone faced.

  Larry opens his mouth to speak, but he suddenly goes silent. A priest stands in front of the massive casket. The crowd goes silent.

  Think.Net alerts me that someone wants to talk to me, someone unidentified. Nita. Why does she bother hiding her identity? She’s the only person I know who can do it, which pretty much defeats the purpose.

 

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