by Mark Gardner
“Come on,” Anne whispered, “we need to get you out of here before anyone sees this.”
Bree emitted a giggle and slipped out of Anne’s reach. To her it was a game, as playful as ever. “No need, silly. Silas will take care of everything. Won’t you Silas?”
Anne turned and saw through squinted eyes a thin man who’d made his way through the frozen crowd. He wore a dark baseball cap, dark green parka, and shiny black combat boots. He was taller than Anne—which was saying something, because Anne was not a short woman. A boyish charm was plastered on his face, and his gray eyes smiled at her.
“You did this?” Anne demanded.
He shrugged, non-committal. “The killing? No. But stopping time was all me.”
Anne sneered and tried to shield Bree from the carnage.
“They’re all dead and frozen in time,” Silas replied. “There’s no need to play the protector now.”
Anne smiled. She decided to test Silas. “That’s improbable.”
Silas clapped his hands. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or so the saying goes. Since we’re the only three people moving freely about, and neither you nor the little princess there possess a power that could do that, so I guess that only leaves me.” He paused. “I’ll admit that seeing Bree’s power has proven rather...fascinating.”
Frightening, you mean, Anne wanted to say. I saw what she did in the cabin at the Canadian border.
“Why would you doubt what she’s capable of?” Silas asked. “Doesn’t it look something like this?”
Anne recalled the dead birds lying in the mud at the cabin. As she pondered Silas’ response, Anne dared to look where the boy had been stretched out of existence. Anne had forgotten about him. Only a frail image of him remained. A barely visible shimmer composed of concentrated light, moving on its own accord inside Silas’ time bubble. Bree’s power obviously superior, the boy’s image dispersed, gone like a rainbow after a sunny day’s rain. Anne narrowed her eyes. Did Bree pretend to be offended, make the boy grab her hair, creating the whole scene for me to witness? Anne’s mind was muddled by Bree’s pointed show of affection toward her… and actions against her. Bree allowed her to beg for the boy’s release and safety. Plead for her to step away and spare these people.
It was a production Bree constructed just for me. And I fell into it.
Anne could feel the tension in the air drop and Bree giggle even louder behind her, undoubtedly sensing Anne’s realization. This had not been a spontaneous outburst; it was a well-choreographed play. Anne needed to find the reasoning behind it. If this was Major Globe pulling the strings, she needed to let Frank Massey know.
Anne turned her attention back to Silas. “How long can you continue this?”
Silas pulled his sleeve back and looked at his watch. “For about thirty more seconds. A total of one minute, I’m afraid. Part of the half-lineage deal.”
“A minute? How far does it extend?”
Silas laughed wholeheartedly. “I think you’re misreading the situation. We are the ones working within the one-minute time limit. The rest of this city is just caught between one second and the next. I can maintain it for just a minute at a time. When we return to normal time, there won’t be any noticeable changes. That jogger over there will take her next step with the same intensity she had before I stopped time, and that dog will finish its shit from the moment it commenced it upon the grass.”
Anne didn’t chuckle at his obscenity. Silas gestured for her to follow him. Bree didn’t need to be called. She skipped ahead with her toy kitten swinging in her hands.
“Do you have a lineage?” Anne demanded.
“A tiny branch I’m afraid, nothing like your history. I’m a Galilei by blood. My ancestor trifled with time, but only a small dose surged onto my humble lineage on my mother’s side.”
Anne nodded. “You’re a defect then?”
Silas feigned offense and pushed a frozen ball up so that Bree could jump and smack it. It rotated rather than rolled through the still air, but Bree exhaled appreciation for the sight. She continued slapping the ball and chasing it. She always made it first before the ball had stopped. Silas returned his attention to Anne.
“I’m hardly a defect. I am of a pure lineage, but I’m the last of the line. Power fades through the ages. More so when mixing an activated gene and an ordinary one. I may very well be choking on exhaust.”
“Silas is amazing, isn’t he, Anne?” Bree asked while trying to adjust Mr. Puss to sit still on top of the frozen ball.
Anne smiled in her direction. “He is, little princess.”
Anne tilted her head at the motionless crowd and lowered her voice. “What of them? What will happen to them once your time bubble bursts?”
Silas clicked his fingers. “Ah the patsy, yes. I almost forgot. I’ll blame that on you and your questions, Lady in Red.”
The Patsy
Anne followed Silas to a nearby bench occupied by a seemingly napping middle-aged man. The man had a newspaper folded on his lap open to the daily crossword puzzle. A cup of coffee sat beside him; the time dilation captured it still steaming.
“Not suspicious at all,” Silas muttered the kind insult. "Poor lad.”
“Who is this?” Anne asked behind over Silas' shoulder.
“Our scapegoat of course. We can’t have you and Bree at the center of all this terror and fear.”
Silas pushed away the newspaper, grabbed the man by the arm, picked him up and threw his body like a satchel over one shoulder. Then he started back toward the crowd.
“He’ll wake up to be the most famous man in the good ole U.S. of A. Today, everyone will learn what he did, know his name and memorize his face. What glorious infamy, eh? Though it will be short-lived. I'm afraid that I envy him just a little.” Silas emphasized the word by holding his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
Anne grabbed Silas' fingers and fixed him with a steel gaze. “I can’t see how Major Globe is on board with this, with Bree so close to it all.”
Silas clicked his tongue at her action but didn’t try to pull away from Anne's stern grip.
Perhaps Globe had warned him not to try such frivolities with an enraged Anne, she thought.
Instead of escalating as Anne had expected, Silas calmly answered her.
“Perhaps you missed the Major’s speech." He raised his eyebrows in mock concern. "You should head straight to Youtube and check it out. It should have about a bazillion views now and be on every news channel. I hear they're even translating it into different languages so no one's left out of his message.”
“I heard it loud and clear," Anne snapped. I just don’t want to believe he would fall this low as to use children for his ludicrous plans, she thought to herself.
Silas nodded. “Then you understand. The Major was very particular about such outbursts. They call these people ‘supers.’ They're very dangerous, aren’t they? They're trying to tear this city apart, and the uprising has just begun. These are merely their casualties.”
She glanced at Bree, still playing with frozen objects. She hadn’t spoken much since Silas had shown up. At first, Anne thought the little girl was throwing a tantrum, but now she knew that it was Globe pulling the strings from afar. It made a twisted sort of sense to ask for Bree’s help with this demonstration. There were no living people in this city or the next who could annihilate so many people at once without spilling a drop of blood. These weak supers that people filmed on their phones and shared online were nothing to fear. They were nothing but circus performers with small tricks up their sleeves. Magicians to entertain and wow the sheep-like masses. These sideshow clowns were very much unlike herself, Joaquin, or Bree. To start an uprising, people needed a cause, and that’s what Bree just created. Silas was merely present to take them away without anyone’s notice and to provide a victim to take the blame.
Anne needed to act sooner than anti
cipated, and that’s where Massey and Joaquin would come in handy.
“And what about us, Silas, are we part of the infection that needs to be removed? Are we a threat to this city too?” Anne hissed through gritted teeth, recalling Major Globe's speech.
Silas gave a small pull at his captured arm, and Anne released her grip. His eyes had changed to a different gray, one matte and cold.
“We have purity.”
That was all he said before readjusting the unconscious man on his shoulder and wading into the sea of Bree's victims. Anne searched the grounds for the pink-clad mass murderer, who talked to Mr. Puss and showed him how to catch the frozen flies between his plush paws. Anne was flabbergasted at how quickly Bree could switch from infamous to innocent. Sighing, she followed Silas back to the amalgamation of frozen people.
“What’s his power?” she asked, pointing to the bundle over Silas’s shoulder when she caught up with him, hoping to draw more information out of him.
“Apparently, he becomes frigid once agitated sufficiently. Judging by his hospital record and mental evaluation, he was having nervous breakdowns. Having a superpower is quite the stressor, ya know.”
“We could've taught him how to handle his power,” Anne retorted.
"Maybe." Silas shrugged and adjusted the man over his shoulder. "But, that's not what I was instructed to do."
When they both stood a few feet away from the center of the 'massacre,' Silas dropped the man, making sure he stood on his feet and positioned him to face the playground crowd. His body shimmered while Silas adjusted his arms. The man's right hand was outstretched with an open palm at the weeping mothers and children. The body froze once more when Silas let go of him. He must've noticed that Anne was about to speak, so he preempted her with a long, thin finger pressed to his lips.
“He’s merely caught between active and passive. And he was subjected to a strong sedative beforehand that’ll be wearing out at just the right time.”
“I thought you said this manifesto had thirty more seconds.” Anne quirked an eyebrow.
Silas grinned back at her. The joyful glimmer had returned to his eyes, softening his expression. He pulled her away from the unfreezing scene with a gentle nudge. Following him around was becoming ridiculous.
“Thirty long, tedious seconds," Silas declared and looked at his watch again. "Though it won't be long now.”
Anne kept her pace even with Silas, who seemed to be distancing them as much as possible from the grisly scene but still maintaining his view of it.
“Where are those Smith and Wessons of yours? I’ve heard so many stories about them,” Silas asked with a smirk and a wink.
Anne kept her hands crossed on her chest as she walked.
“Ask me again and you’ll find out soon enough.”
Silas chuckled. Given another chance, Anne would have revealed her concealed guns and put a hole in his forehead, ceasing his chuckles and smirks. He seemed to be full of them. Anne hated men who thought they found her amusing in this demeaning way. They didn't even deserve a death by her power.
The machinations of man would suffice for the likes of Silas and his ilk.
The gaunt Silas picked a bench conveniently located at the entrance to an alley in direct view of the massacre. He sat, stretched out his legs and called to Bree. “Hey little princess, come here. I’ve selected the perfect spot for you to behold your work and mine.”
Bree forgot all about the scattered toys and people now returning to normal. She ran to join Silas on the bench.
As the pink-clothed girl skipped toward them, Silas patted the bench next to him for Anne to sit. She ignored his petty flirt but observed how the killer and the cleaner awarded themselves the best seats in the house to watch the death play unfold. Anne still wasn’t sure what his end game was, of what was this demonstration for. She needed to find out before it all went out of control...her control. She turned her attention back to the smirking man in awe of his own power manifesting atop one of Bree’s.
It was annoying Anne how Bree seemed so relaxed around Silas. It was apparent that she’d spent time with him, no doubt at Globe’s request. Demands didn't work with Bree, but if you could convince her with a simple request and then build on your progress, you could get her to do just about anything. Despite the enormous power, the little girl wielded, she was just a naive child. Strange enough, it made Anne jealous that Bree had someone else to play with. It also made her worry that Bree might soon tire of her. Watching Silas’ power at work, Anne felt her fear intensify. Bree hated boring things, and Anne’s power wasn’t one for entertainment anymore. A trick viewed too many times loses its luster. Part of Anne craved that little bit of luster.
Pieces of the scene began to kick back to life. The prolonged distorted sounds of car tires screeching on the asphalt sped up to real time; the joggers' echoing footsteps on the gravel reverted to normal, quiet steps. The dogs barked loud and continuous and the buzzing flies no longer glitched above their heads.
It was nearly time for the grand reveal at the center of the massacre. There would be violent screams, a lot of running around, and plenty of fear. Anne knew these facts from past performances. Only back then, it was Anne who orchestrated the scene.
“Such sad, sad headlines we will have tomorrow," Silas murmured in a reverent tone. "They’ll turn the victim's names into numbers and him into a legend. But in truth, he’ll just be an angry and unstable man who lost control at the wrong time in the wrong place. Look how many people he killed. And children too, how—”
Anne tuned him out before the culmination. He sure likes to hear himself talk, Anne thought. Out loud, he asked of Silas, “Now why is it that Globe hasn’t mentioned you to me before?”
“I suppose there are some things you’re not allowed to know until it’s needed, Anne.” He looked up at her, sizing her, measuring her patience...and her breasts, Anne noticed with a scowl on her usually perfect face. “That or the Major doesn’t trust you completely anymore.” He quickly feigned disinterest again and inspected a coin he’d fished from his pocket.
“Is Doctor Globe angry at Aunty Anne?” Bree asked.
Was that genuine worry in her voice that Anne was hearing? There were moments when Anne wondered whether Bree wasn’t compelling her to feel things.
“No, how can someone be angry at something so lovely. Your Aunty is just being silly,” Silas said, as if bored.
That was good enough for Bree, but Anne interrupted him again.
“Bree, honey is Doctor Globe still watching?”
The girl nodded but then the toothy grin disappeared from her face and was replaced with a frown. “I wanted there to be more people, but this is good enough for now, I guess. Doctor Globe won’t be disappointed.”
“No,” Anne said, “he wouldn’t.”
Anne allowed the falling silence between the three of them to deepen. The people here, the people of the city wouldn’t suspect an innocent-looking girl had done this. But indirectly they’d recognize that a greater evil was upon them; even if today it wore the face of the patsy man, they’d be afraid and run, or perhaps go mad and fight until everything was crumbling ashes.
The world returned to normality, time in rhythm again, resuming mere seconds after that unruly little boy had pulled at Bree’s ponytail. There were no violent screams. There was nothing. Just people crumbling into a heap of lifeless bodies. They were dead the instant Bree had decided it so, perhaps even before darkness encircled Anne. Snap! Anne mentally snapped her finger. That’s all it took for them to succumb to her power.
“Booooring!” Bree yawned and stretched her little arms. “I want to go home now. Mister Puss is hungry and tired and needs a bath.”
Bree took Silas’s hand. Anne followed behind them, queasy with anticipation at what she would hear.
Now rose the screams. Churning, thin, out of breath screaming; it was weak from men, weak from women, outraged and animalistic. And it wouldn’t stop until Globe was dead and bu
ried.
“Whom did you talk to?” Andy asked, spinning on his chair to face Massey and Joaquin. Behind him, his computer screen showed repeats of the Major Globe speech. Every outlet wanted to be in on what appeared to be an historical event. The view counter kept increasing—thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions—it didn’t slow or stop; everyone was addicted.
“No one,” the detective answered, cursing under his breath at the private number Anne had called him from. He had to find her on his own terms; he couldn’t let her play him again. His memories were of the wasteful time he spent with her in that bar on a lonely night. He cursed himself for not learning how to use the smartphone gathering dust in his drawer that his daughter, Denisha, had given him for his birthday. He needed to do a call trace without having to involve the tech guys at the station. He glanced at Andy from the corner of his eye; if he could, he would avoid asking him as well.
Nobody can know about my conversation with Anne, he thought with a conviction that not only protected his job, but possibly his life.
“Sure sounded important,” Andy insisted. “Did this person say anything about why Doctor Globe is so helpful to supers?” Andy asked his throat dry again.
Before Massey could answer, Joaquin raised his voice. “Hey, how come I’m still Hero Two?”
Andy turned to face Joaquin; the thoughts in his head were obvious on his face. Massey almost agreed with Andy’s unspoken thought: Joaquin still looked like a street thug even under the shirt, pants, and tie façade.
Andy’s neck tensed and he tilted his head as if he were listening to a voice on the phone. Whatever he was hearing, he didn’t care for it. He grimaced, and it was time for Massey to diffuse the situation before the two escalated.
“Now’s not the time for that, Joaquin,” Massey said, still angrily staring at his phone. He periodically pressed the small pictures on the screen, hoping he could work it. Icons, he reminded himself. He felt silly for not knowing the most basic tenets of the technology.