“What for?”
“They want to start experimenting on human test subjects and imbue them with super powers.”
Quinn sat back in his chair, stunned. “And you are okay with this? You’re willing to let them do this?”
“No, I’m, uh, here to ask for your help. Even I know the dangers of an army of super-powered people. Victor is on our side, Quinn. He told me all of this to stop Mother Superior and The Order’s plans. As far as he’s concerned, without us, they’d still be doing things the old-fashioned way. Now they want an army of super-assassins.”
“I’m glad we both agree this is very bad.”
“So, you’ll come back to Rangeley and help me destroy it?”
“Wait, you want to destroy the facility?”
“Not really, because I think a lot of good could happen with it, but Mother Superior has different plans that Victor is really upset about. I’m telling you, he all but begged for our help to stop her.”
Quinn frowned. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious, Quinn.”
“Okay, how will they do this mega-fusion thing?”
“Oh boy, this part is really confusing. I’m not entirely sure how it works, but I’ll try to explain it to you. They’re going to manipulate weather patterns in the area with the Cloudbusters. This will create a ton of rainfall and snow over the next few months by dropping the air pressure and creating a bunch of storms around Rangeley. The problem Victor pointed out is the downstream effects to southern parts of Maine and New Hampshire. All of the rain and snow has to go somewhere; there’s a major potential for super flooding. Imagine not only the Piscataqua river over-flowing and taking half of Portsmouth with it, but like every river down through Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island doing that. The storms will not be localized to Rangeley, though. They will spread them across New England and while it will seem like extreme weather, it will have unforeseen, devastating effects. The local news and meteorologists won’t understand what’s going on because they all think it’s impossible to artificially generate severe weather.
“We have to tell someone,” Quinn said.
“Quinn, this is crazy talk. Who will believe us?”
“Mr. St. Germain will.”
“Our science teacher won’t be able to do a damn thing. Sure, he might have some advice, but that’s about it. Can you go to the police?”
“Uh, so, about that…” Quinn explain what happened to him at the Sheraton Hotel after work.
“Wow, so they’re seriously gunning for you. Shit.”
“It won’t be just me once people figure out you exist, too. I don’t mind taking the heat for both us right now since I’m the exposed one, so we have to be careful. I’ve been working with Mr. St. Germain to learn how to control the glowing thing because that will help me avoid any accidental public disclosure.”
Blake looked down at the table. Should I tell him?
“What?” Quinn said, already knowing Blake was withholding information.
He knows me too well.
“So, there was a thing the other night…” Blake explained how he saved a woman from a serious situation in Hislop Park with his powers and how that triggered an investigation by DHS agents. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. The woman was standing right there, and she didn’t recognize me.”
“Wow, Blake.”
“Sorry.”
“I mean, it’s good that you saved her, but bad they were investigating you.” Quinn took a deep breath and sighed. “All right, we need to come up with a plan to take down Rangeley. It’s good to have you back, Blake.”
“I don’t know that I’m back, Quinn. I just know this can’t happen.”
“Oh.”
Blake cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, think about how we could do this. They won’t be ready for the two of us.” He smirked and then walked the cafeteria.
❖
After his last class, Blake quickly changed in the locker room and made his way across the school grounds to the outdoor running track. Although there was no practice, running afforded him an opportunity to burn off stress and anxiety.
“Well, if it isn’t the perpetual asshole,” Darien sniped, approaching Blake from one of the parking lots. Kyle and Tony were with him.
“What do you want? I’m in no mood to play your little games, Darien.” If this goes south, I better not hurt them too bad…I still care about not being outed as a super-powered person yet.
“I’m going to teach you some manners. I don’t know how your stupid friend caught the coffee cup or why you thought you could fight me and win this morning, but it’s time you learned what a piece of shit you really are.”
“Clearly, you underestimate us, Darien. You will always lose because you’re nothing more than a bully and a loser.”
Darien’s face contorted with anger. “I’m not a loser, you are.” Then, he charged at Blake.
Blake waited and simply stepped aside when Darien almost tackled him. Missing Blake, Darien snarled and turned around, fists ready and swinging.
This time, Kyle and Tony joined the fight. The three bullies surrounded Blake their fists raised.
Kyle and Tony lunged at him, wrapping their arms around his legs and chest, respectively.
Blake smiled.
Darien leapt forward with his right fist and struck the center of Blake’s stomach, but he screamed in agony and pulled his hand away, shaking it wildly. His angry face shifted to pain and fear.
“Bet that really hurt, jerk face,” Blake sneered.
Using his super strength, he spread his legs apart and wrenched himself free from Kyle’s arms, knocking him into the ground. He reached up, grabbed Tony, and flipped him over his shoulders. Then he raised his left leg and placed his foot squarely on Kyle’s chest, preventing him from getting up.
Tony jumped to his feet, dazed but still ready to fight. He charged at Blake, who didn’t flinch. When Tony’s fist connected with Blake’s jaw, he experienced the same painful reaction Darien felt moments ago. Tony cried out in agony and cradled his hand.
“I warned you guys not to mess with me, but you didn’t listen, did you? Instead, you had to come out here and make fools of yourselves.”
Darien charged at him like an angry linebacker and tried to tackle him. Blake crouched down at the last second, causing Darien to trip over him. The bully tumbled and rolled on the ground until he came to a stop.
“What is wrong with you?” Darien screamed. He got back up and charged at Blake. “Fight like a man!”
“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, Darien.” Blake coiled his fist back, ready to strike.
“That’s enough!” Coach Tomlin yelled. The boys stopped and stared at the man. He jerked a thumb back to the school. “I want the four of you maggots in my office right now! Move it!”
19 | Next Up, Paranoia
Quinn
THE NEXT DAY AFTER SCHOOL, Quinn pedaled to the hidden field behind Sagamore Hill. A few minutes later, Mr. St. Germain walked into the field and smiled. “You know, if someone discovered I was meeting a student here, it could create a really awkward situation for us.”
Quinn smiled. “Unless you can come up with a better place, this is all we have to work with.”
Mr. St. Germain chuckled. “Unfortunately, I can’t. You said you had a bunch of new information to share; what did you learn from Blake?”
Quinn repeated what Blake had told him about Mother Superior and her plans to create a super-powered army of warriors to carry out their agenda by executing an experimental reactor recharging process at the Orgonon facility. He also told him about speaking with Camilla Brenhurst and sharing his side of the story.
“Well, you guys were right about this not being a believable story, like at all. The weird use of religious titles makes it seem even crazier!”
“What do I do?”
“What Blake asked you to do. Help him stop Mother Superior, at
least for now. There’s nothing to stop them from doing this elsewhere, so we’ll have to watch the weather patterns for clues if they try to do this at one of their other facilities. But watch your back, Quinn. There’s no guarantee anything Blake told you is true; for all we know, Victor’s feeding Blake a ton of believable horse shit. It seems Blake is so eager to break with his current life that he's going to do whatever he can to get away from his life here in Portsmouth. But be careful, worst case, this is a trap to get both of you up there.”
“I dunno, you might be right. Blake trusts Victor a lot, especially since he apparently disagrees with Mother Superior. But more importantly, how do we stop them from carrying out their…evil plan?” He chuckled at his last words.
Mr. St. Germain smiled. “If the reactor is the key to the entire operation, then that’s what you have to take out. It wouldn’t hurt to wipe out the Cloudbusters and the collection arrays on the surface if you can. Tell me again what the inside of the chamber looks like?”
Quinn described the large octagonal chamber, the arrays at the top, the eight energy conduits that ran to the energy storage area under the reactor, and the hexagonal plating that lined its walls.
“Okay, let me think.” Mr. St. Germain brought his left arm across his stomach and stroked his beard with his right hand. He walked in a small circle as he spoke. “You said the chamber converts the energy it collects from the surface?”
“Yup, that's how they explained it to me.”
“I think you have a few options. One way to foil the entire operation would be to sever the cables between the surface devices and the chamber. Of course, they can always fix those once they figure out what you did. Oh, I know! Like, in the X-Men movie, you could always rearrange it like Magneto did to Cerebro.”
“I’m not sure I remember that scene…”
“It’s the second movie, X-Men United. Anyway, there’s a scene where Magneto rearranges the rectangular metal plates in Cerebro—a big, underground chamber created for Professor Xavier. At any rate, when Xavier tries to use Cerebro, it malfunctions terribly. There’s a strong chance you can make the system compromise itself in a similar fashion.”
“Oh right! I remember that now. How do I know those plates do anything in the reactor core?”
“Easy. If they weren’t necessary, they would not have spent the money putting them there. Technology is always in place for a reason. That chamber somehow focuses and converts the energy into a storable form; shifting the plates around might reprogram the reactor core to scatter the energy everywhere. It will essentially overload the entire system.”
“I can't rearrange all those plates by hand!” Quinn protested.
“I thought you were fast?” Mr. St. Germain asked, chuckling. “Ask Blake to do it with his telekinesis. Once that is done, all you need to do is power on the reactor and it should take care of itself.”
“It's not going to go nuclear or something and kill us, right?”
“Nope. It should only create feedback loops in the system, essentially short-circuiting and burning it out. When the entire thing is fried, it should be totaled and completely unusable. It's highly unlikely they will be able to repair it, but there is no guarantee.”
“Okay, I think I can handle that.”
“Let's be clear, Quinn, the only thing this plan does is prevent The Order from testing their new mega-fusion technology at the Rangeley facility. If they really want to, they could still do this somewhere else if they are willing to risk failure and what sounds like a destructive end.”
“Right, but slowing them down may be all I can do right now.”
“You have another consideration as well. Nobody knows about the danger The Order presents. Destroying the reactor could create a public relations nightmare and tarnish Blue Spekter’s reputation as a superhero and not a super villain. You need to reflect upon what you’re going to do and how you’re going to do it. The challenge will be any decisions you have to make in the moment. The police are right with one regard: you are not trained, at all. You’re also very young, which means…”
Quinn’s phone buzzed with an unusual alarm sound. A moment later, Mr. St. Germain’s phone buzzed as well with the same sound. “That’s weird,” Quinn said, ignoring it.
Mr. St. Germain pulled out his phone. “It’s an emergency alert. Something bad is going on around us.”
They both read the message: USAF Boeing KC-135 Stratotanker inbound to Pease from northwest experiencing engine trouble. Seek shelter; falling debris danger and crash immanent.”
“Oh my gosh!” Mr. St. Germain said, surprised.
Quinn looked around for any sign of the plane but saw nothing. He flew up to the tree line and looked around. When he looked west, he saw it.
“Hey, you’re not glowing!” Mr. St. Germain exclaimed.
Quinn smiled. “I’ve been practicing. I see the plane. It’s one of those big refueling jets—it’s entire left wing is spewing black smoke.”
“So, it’s on fire. That’s not good because it means the fuel cutoffs may not have triggered and the fire suppression systems aren’t working. The wiring might have melted.”
“I can see the airport to my left, but the jet’s heading to my right. It needs to turn, like now.”
“How far out is it?”
Quinn gave his mentor a funny look. “Sorry, measuring distance isn’t one of my super powers. It looks like it’s going to fly past the airport.”
“If they don’t turn soon, it’s because they can’t. They might be heading out to the ocean to swing around and land the other way. That’s bad though; that flight path puts them over Kittery, the harbor, Portsmouth, and Rye.
“Oh wow, two fighter jets just appeared out of nowhere.”
“If the plane can’t turn, can you help steer it? The fighters are probably there to provide an extra set of eyes in the sky—which means the pilots have definitely lost control over parts of the aircraft.”
Quinn lowered himself to the ground and stared at his mentor. “You want me to go steer a burning airplane by pushing it around?”
“That might be the only way to save it, Quinn. You’re the only one who can save the crew and the people below if they crash. But, if you don’t get there right now, you might be too late.”
“That’s going to piss off the police and the DHS.”
“I can’t tell you what to do, Quinn. This is completely uncharted territory for me as well. I can only ask this: when the man fell off the bridge, when the downtown bomber attacked, and when there was a supposed hostage situation at the Sheraton, what did Blue Spekter do?”
Quinn smiled, and his eyes flashed on as his body erupted with blue light. “Thanks, Mr. St. Germain. I know what I have to do now.”
A moment later, Quinn rocketed toward the doomed Stratotanker.
❖
Blake
After leaving Coach Tomlin’s office, Blake pedaled up Middle Street past an unusual amount of traffic on his way to work after school. Coach had given him a get out of jail free card for the fight he broke up because he saw that Darien, Kyle, and Tony started it, but he suspended them all from track for the rest of the week. With his left hand, he pulled some beef jerky out of a bag he held in his right hand while simultaneously steering his bicycle.
When he turned onto State Street, the traffic stopped. Ahead of him, he could see police cars and other unmarked vehicles with flashing lights blocking the entrances to Market Square. An officer flagged him over and told him to wait behind a group of pedestrians.
He hopped off his bike and walked it to the line of irritated pedestrians who were complaining about an infringement on their civil rights. He shoved the beef jerky in his sweatshirt’s center pocket. His phone made a weird sound in his pants pocket, but he ignored it.
The authorities let cars through, one at a time, but only after speaking with the driver. They did the same with pedestrians, and when it was nearly Blake’s turn, the salt-and-pepper officer addressed t
he man in front of him.
“Do you have any drugs or anything illegal on you that will make the dogs react?” the officer asked. Several phones around him made that same, strange sound.
The man mumbled an answer and the policeman shook his head, directing the man to a different line.
“Hello, son. Do you have any drugs or anything illegal on you that will make our dogs react?” the officer asked him.
“No, I do not. What’s going on?”
Blake sensed the officer swallow his frustration. “Trying to sniff out the unidentified phenomenon.”
“With dogs? Do they even know what to look for?”
“Sorry, son, I can’t answer that. Step ahead, please.”
Blake walked his bike forward to the officers with the police dogs. They sniffed at him with great interest and the officers regarded him strangely.
Blake extended his hands to the dogs and said, “Hi, puppies.” The dogs immediately started sniffing his fingers and licking them.
“Don’t interact with the dogs, please, they’re working,” one of them said.
“Sorry.” He withdrew his hands and one of the dogs whimpered.
The officers looked at each other strangely because the dogs seemed overly interested in Blake. Then they looked at Blake.
Noting their concerned gaze, he said, “I was just eating beef jerky. Look, I have it here in my pocket.” He moved his right hand slowly and pulled out the red and white jerky bag.
The officers rolled their eyes and gestured for him to keep going. “You can go about your business…move along.”
He nodded and walked his bike forward. The dogs whimpered at him again, but he nonchalantly jumped on his bike and pedaled toward Kaffee VonSolln. I have no idea if the dogs can smell our power, or why the police think the dogs would be able to identify us…unless…they managed to get a piece of Quinn’s clothing from the Sheraton thing…then they might have trained the dogs to smell for him…wow, that’s insane.
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