Gift of Light_A Powered Destinies stand-alone novel Page 11

  Her five-year-old self had not understood what he was trying to say. “But it’s an ugly home. It doesn’t even have windows! Why are you giving it to me?”

  “Because,” Dad said while stroking her hair, “I want you to know that your home is a shell that will always be with you. No matter what happens, you can always return to this house, and you’ll always be safe within its shell.”

  And because she was still pouting afterward, Dad had made a point of bringing her a turtle themed gift each and every time he returned from an extended absence. He continued the tradition until she learned to love turtles and appreciate the meaning of home. The charm she wore around her neck was the last gift she ever received from him, a memento of everything she treasured about her life before the city’s downfall.

  Wisp sat in the darkness, hugging the stuffed turtle to her chest. Luca, Sara, and Max hadn’t been born with a shell of their own. So I have to be the one they can return to. The one who keeps them safe.

  Wisp had stepped up as leader of the gang not because she was good at leading people, but because she knew how to avoid danger.

  Now that their numbers had dwindled, and the group was starting to fall apart, was she ready to turn away and let things run their course?

  No. The realization came to her with startling clarity, and she squeezed Tapsy Turtle tighter, clenching her teeth against the anger building behind her eyes. She was not ready to leave this house—and the life she had pieced together from nothing against all odds—to a bunch of villains. At least not without a fight. Even broken, toxic, and abandoned by the rest of the world, this city was still her home. She’d burn it down with her own hands before she let the Conglomerate defile its corpse.

  If we left, she decided, we’d all leave together. No one breaks away from the group, and no one gets left behind. Two years from now everyone except Sara would be of legal age and safe from the authorities on the other side. Together, they’d find a way to protect the youngest member of their group, too.

  Having made her decision, she put the stuffed animal back and rose to her feet. “Watch over the house for me.”

  Wisp slipped through the door and back into the pair of boots. Somehow, they didn’t feel so big and clunky anymore.

  She made her way down the stairs with determined steps, then descended to the basement door. She pushed it open and flipped the light switch on the wall to her right. The lights didn’t turn on. Of course they didn’t. Like most anything in Dead City, they were not connected to any off-grid power system.

  You forgot to install solar panels on the roof, Dad.

  As she peered into the darkness, Wisp could make out the basement workshop’s work bench on her right and an array of wooden storage racks ahead and to her left. Her remaining spheres provided enough illumination to navigate the gloom, though most of the items in the racks were a blur.

  Dad’s stash is in a big metal chest at the back, she remembered, picking her way through the narrow passageways between storage racks. Most of the stuff looked old. The ‘last century’ kind of old, with some modern-age tools and electronics thrown in. Dad had locked away anything remotely weapon-like by the time toddler Wisp started to explore the house on her own little legs.

  The iron chest sat in a small alcove at the other end of the basement, smaller than she remembered, but still rusty and covered in dust. It was an ugly old thing, presumably a remnant of World War One that Dad had pulled from a secondhand shop specializing in military gear. There was no key hole. The cast-iron lid was sealed shut by a six-digit combination lock that shone with a coppery luster when Wisp’s spheres approached it, dancing around it to provide illumination with their golden glow.

  They’re still yellow. Wisp dropped into a cross-legged position in front of the chest. Nothing bad is going to happen if I open it.

  There were actual explosives inside. She remembered that much.

  She rubbed her hands in anticipation before she fiddled with the combination lock. The digits fell into place and the lock snapped open. Wisp grabbed the heavy lid and pulled it upward, straining against its weight before the chest revealed its contents.

  At a glance, most of it looked familiar from the last time she had cracked the lock’s code. What stuck out as different were the CM6 gas masks that had been tucked into the side of the chest, half-hidden beneath a folded survival blanket. Three panoramic full-face models with attached respirators. One looked little enough to fit a small teenage girl.

  Wisp examined each mask with solemn reverence, prodding the rubbery material with her fingers to look for signs of wear and age, and finding none. As far as she could tell with her limited military knowledge, all the masks were in good condition. Her dad, it seemed, really had taken precautions for everything.

  One was meant for Grandma, and one each for Dad and me. Looking down at the contents of the stash sent another pang of melancholy through her. Now I’m the only one who can actually put them to use. She wondered at what point the masks had been added to the stash. Maybe when the breaking news alerts about powers with devastating effect flashed across the television screen?

  Back in 2010, Liquidate had been the first Evolved who couldn’t control his own power, accidentally causing the death of several innocent bystanders and leaving the international community in an uproar. The news freaked Grandma out so much she jumped out of her television armchair. Several months later the Sleepwalker emerged, and the poor old woman freaked out more.

  Shoulders slumping, Wisp dragged her mind back to the present and put the gas masks down on the floor beside the chest, wondering how she was going to carry everything back to the Survivor base. The masks alone wouldn’t be enough to protect herself or her friends from full-on Smog exposure, but if she grabbed a duffel bag from the living room closet and raided the house for raincoats and long-sleeved nylon clothing, she might be able to put together two or three sets of protective gear.

  Three. Not enough for everyone.

  As the gang’s leader and living turtle shell, Wisp expected to need one set for protection when and if she ended up fighting Smoker and solving the mystery of the Smog-filled warehouse. The well-being of her friends was her responsibility. With luck and with herself acting as their shield, no one else was going to need Smog protection.

  Having retrieved the gas masks, she carefully scoured the chest’s other contents for anything that could be weaponized, and with utmost respect for their destructive power, put each item down on the basement floor. Two DM51 fragmentation grenades supplemented by a single incendiary grenade. Several blocks of C4 plastic explosive in their army wrapping. A cardboard box filled with medical supplies of all kinds. Last but not least, she discovered some spare .50 caliber magazines along with a heavy pistol at the bottom of the chest, tucked into a high-quality leather holster that did little to conceal the gun’s shiny new weapon gleam.

  A Desert Eagle, Wisp determined, rapt with awe as she examined the model designation on the barrel. Her spheres floated around the gun to illuminate the small engraved letters. It sat heavily in her hand, radiating an air of consequence. Her heart had already decided she was going to use this.

  According to her dad, the Desert Eagle was one of most powerful handguns in existence. He must have put it there for a reason. Even if he hadn’t, this was his legacy and his last means of protecting her. The testament of a soldier who vanished in the haze of the first Deadening, deployed to support a superhero alongside the rest of his local army unit.

  Thousands of people went missing that day. In the aftermath, a barrage of radio broadcasts had suggested that most of the missing people were never found. Only their clothes, and sometimes not even those.

  Max can show me how to use it. Wisp slipped the gun back into its holster. Knowing that it was close at hand, seemingly well-maintained and ready for use, gave her the boost of confidence she needed to keep charging forward. Or at least the confidence to make a plan – she didn’t know what Constantine had in store for
her or how she was going to respond to it. For the first time since she’d failed to enforce her demands, she had the feeling that she was running in the right direction, doing the right things. The plan would pop up somewhere along the way.

  “Time to go,” Wisp told herself, pushing back to her feet.

  After grabbing a duffel bag from the first-floor cabinets, she stuffed it with the three gas masks, a rain coat, the medicinal kit and all the pieces of long-sleeved synthetic fiber clothing she managed to scrape up in a hurry. The plastic explosives and grenades she left in the chest, safe and secure for the moment.

  The holstered gun she clipped to the belt of her pants, making no attempt to conceal it. Big C and his band of thugs had already seen her carry the dud gun. If anyone noticed she'd swapped one model for another … so what?

  When she finished packing, the bag turned out to be bulkier and heavier than expected. Seriously, how did a bunch of clothes weigh so much? Slung over her shoulder by a long strap, it kept banging against her legs as she walked, throwing her off balance. Hopefully, her return to base wouldn’t involve any more mad dashes or Houdini escapes. Fingers crossed. When she passed the iron fence gate by switching places with one of her spheres, a tall, slender figure scraped out of the darkness surrounding the brick wall. Someone who approached her with confidence and wasn’t fazed by her dancing lights. The spheres hovered inches from her face, momentarily confusing her night vision. She scattered them with a flick of her finger.

  “You sure spent a while in there,” Luca said a split second before she recognized him. His gaze fell to the overstuffed monstrosity of a duffel bag that hung from her shoulder. “What’s in there, a Gatling gun?”

  “You wish,” she replied, closing the distance between them so she could poke him in the shoulder for having startled her. “The Gatling gun is sitting on my hip. Right here.” She half-turned, showing off her fancy Desert Eagle holster.

  He scratched his head, squinting in the indicated direction. “I see. Bit small for a Gatling if you ask me.”

  She puffed up her cheeks before responding. “Right. I actually found three gas masks at home, plus other things that could help us out. You’ve already seen my new gun.”

  “If it works, that gun is going to make a difference, yes. Let Max take a look at it though.”

  Wisp raised her eyebrows to her hairline, steepling the fingers of her free hand for effect. “I know what I’m doing here in front of my home, but what about you?”

  “I got the message.” Luca pointed at the yellow light that floated next to his head. “You never dispatch these without a good reason. What’s going on?”

  Right. Thinking back to what she had said at the tower an hour or so ago, it made sense for her best friend to seek her out after receiving her warning light. How very Luca of him to check up on her at the earliest opportunity. She had mentioned she was going home, and being a childhood friend of hers, he knew where she lived. Used to live.

  “About that … Wisp paused to scan the surrounding darkness, searching for signs of Smog or other hostile presences, like Smoker. Finding none, she checked on her spheres to confirm they still glowed yellow, but unlike Luca’s, hers had an alarming tinge of orange. The floating balls of light made them plainly visible in the night, though she preferred the advance warning – and the option to blind potential attackers – to skulking around in the shadows.

  The shift towards orange stirred a tickle of anxiety in her gut. I’m getting closer to tomorrow. I really could get killed if Constantine decides to be a dick.

  As though reading her mind, Luca took her hand and squeezed it. “If you want to wait until we’re back at our base, that’s cool with me, but I do want to know what’s going on.”

  “No, it’s fine. The sooner you know, the better.” Wisp took a deep breath and squeezed his hand back. “Big C really does have a villain working for him, and yeah, it’s the Smog ghost I spotted this morning. The name’s Smoker. He controls the Smog somehow. Actually, he could be the reason behind the out of whack Deadening yesterday morning.”

  Luca’s stoic facade crumbled. “Shit. How sure are you about this?”

  “I saw him play with Smog right in front of me. Hell, I saw Smog rise at night about an hour ago. At least one of Constantine’s warehouses is filled to the brim with the stuff. It’s replaced the guards who used to be there.”

  “Damn.” Luca rubbed his face with both hands. “And here I was thinking I’d be the one bearing bad news tonight.”

  “Say what?”

  “Come on, let me take that bag, and let’s head home.” Luca displayed a rare streak of manners by taking her shoulder strap.

  She would have preferred if he answered her question instead. The silence bugged her more than any shocking revelation could.

  Since he was being considerate and most likely just didn’t want to scare her further, she made the effort to pry without prying. “You went over to the border zone, right?”

  “Right.” He kept his face unreadable. “Figured I’d try and trade for details about what’s going on.”

  “How did it go?”

  “I got what I came for.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, so she fell in alongside him.

  “Any trouble at all?”

  “Their prices have gone up. Erik didn’t budge until I showed him hard cash. It seems someone’s instructed them to keep quiet about things happening on our side of the wall.”

  “What else is new?”

  “The value of food has gone up on the other side. Chocolate in particular.” He glanced sidelong at her, gauging her reaction. “I actually had to toss in a few packets of Ritter Sport for ten minutes of WiFi access.”

  She jabbed a finger at him, puffing up in protest. “You said we were all out of chocolate like, yesterday!”

  He flashed a mischievous grin. “I actually found some at the kiosk on Augsburger’s. Literally five minutes before the Deadening.”

  Wisp snorted and shoved at him. “You found chocolate and kept it a secret from me, your boss and master? Bubblehead. Bindle snitch.” She made a dramatic pause before delivering the ultimate verbal uppercut, the one snub to trump them all: “Muppet lunch.”

  He recoiled as if struck by a bat, but never stopped grinning. “Ouch. That was a low blow, Nici. How can I make it up to you?”

  “You could let me handle things my way tomorrow,” she said, too preoccupied to be offended by the nickname. He grimaced and took a step back. She blew out a breath and softened her tone to lighten the mood. “Look, you could just get on with the big reveal of how you saved a packet of munchies for me. Compensation for the emotional trauma and all that.”

  “Way to blow the surprise.” With a grand gesture, he dug into his canvas shoulder bag, a smaller counterweight to the duffel bag he was carrying for her, and fished out two square, aluminum-wrapped chocolate bars. She extended a hand for the chocolaty goodness, and Luca was nice enough to hand her both bars.

  Wisp ripped the wrapping off and dug in. The chewy, half-melted chocolate filled her mouth with a burst of hazelnut-flavored sweetness, and her eyes rolled back in pleasure. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten her hands on chocolate. It used to be almost omnipresent in the Dead Zone, but since it tended to be sold in smaller shops and on the first-floor levels of grocery stores, the Smog made most of it go bad.

  “Thanks,” she said through her full mouth. “Now you can be my best friend again, all official like.”

  “How generous of you.” Luca watched her chew while he walked along, slowing his pace for her sake. “I guess I should explain what’s going on with the price hike on the other side, though.” His smile slipped. “After all the public fear mongering that’s happened lately, most of the businesses that were still open have closed shop. The remaining grocery stores are overrun, and people are starting to hoard and act violent.”

  “Recent fear mongering?” she asked, worried about where this was going. />
  “Right. The people who stuck around have been on the fence for some time. Then the Antithesis emerged in Liverpool, and despite the UNEOA’s efforts to sweep the evidence under the rug, everyone knows about it. Someone must have spread the news, and someone spread word that living in northeast Berlin is no longer safe. That the Smog is expanding. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, the Antithesis already triggered worldwide panic. And now they hear about the Smog. Of course our neighbors on the other side pack their bags and leave.”

  “So you saved the bad news for a moment when I was happy. Thanks, I guess,” she muttered.

  The taste of sweet chocolate turned sour in Wisp’s mouth. She sensed a subliminal villain influence in all of this and would have bet her other hazelnut chocolate bar that it was the Conglomerate making a power grab for the entire city. An abandoned Berlin without even a semblance of jurisdiction or control would be a fertile breeding ground for villain activity. The Federal Chancellor would most likely make a last-ditch attempt at saving the former capital, but what was the government to do if panicked citizens fled the city in droves? Send in the army to guard barren shops and deserted homes?

  No, the Bundeswehr troops were needed elsewhere … wait.

  Wisp’s train of thought bogged down to a standstill. What had Luca just said? In her mental rant about the fate of her hometown, her brain had blanked out the single most important piece of news. Something so disconcerting and mind-boggling that she could only hope she’d misheard.

  “Wait.” She stopped, waving her hands in a cutting motion. “Time-out. Rewind. Did you just mention the friggle-fracking Antithesis?”

  He stopped beside her, watching her with his intense dark eyes. “I did. I can’t give you any more details. Erik and the other wall-watchers didn’t know much beyond the latest rumors.”