Chapter 22: Stumped

  Steel crumpled and glass shattered beneath Olivia’s claws. She wrenched the roof of the car back, the metal and occupants both screaming in their own way. Ben and Miya were somewhere close, according to Amanda, and if the few months of her existence had taught Olivia anything it was that these masked gunmen were shooting at her friends. The driver threw his door open and scrambled out of the car. His partner raised his submachine gun and fired. Olivia, with the advantage of height, pulled back and behind the peeled roof. She didn’t have to wait long before the panicked man emptied his magazine into metal or the air.

  Olivia leaned back over the hole and roared, “Leave us alone!”

  The man yelled back in a language she didn’t recognize as he fumbled with another magazine. Fine. With a hiss, she crouched down to take a swipe at him. In the nick of time he pulled himself to the side, hanging halfway out the car and leaving Olivia with her claws stuck in the dashboard. By the time she yanked them free, he joined his driver in getting as far away from her as possible.

  With the immediate threat dealt with, Olivia stood and took stock. Amanda and Chris reached Ben and Miya, hauling them away in the direction of Rob in his idling truck. Their sudden arrival made the rest of the gunmen back off. Police sirens approached, along with the rapid beating of something in the air that Olivia belatedly recognized as a helicopter. She took flight and circled overhead, spotting the gunmen regrouping a street over. Oh, that’s a lot, thought Olivia as a good three dozen armed men began to fan out.

  “Guys, there's a lot more of them coming,” she warned the others over the comms.

  “Doesn’t matter, we’re leaving,” replied Chris. “Do you want a ride in the truck or are you going to fly back?”

  She shuddered at the thought of being cooped up with five other people in a car. “I’ll fly.”

  Rob wasted no time with her response, gunning the engine of his oversized truck and burning rubber on the way out of the area. “See you soon,” said Chris.

  Olivia pumped her wings, gaining altitude and heading towards the mountains. The sound of the sirens faded, the helicopter did not. She twisted her neck, getting a view of the police helicopter tilted forward directly for her. What? No. Why me? She tucked her wings in and dove to build speed to no avail. The helicopter matched her and more. She didn’t spot any guns sticking out of it, but the eyes on her were enough of a threat.

  Heart pounding, she dove even further, dodging electrical lines and taller buildings, though no trees. Morning commuters below took notice, honks and shouts barely audible to her ears below the whir of the helicopter blades. It kept pace even as it lost sight of her for a few seconds. I should have just taken the stupid car ride.

  She let out a hiss of frustration as the suburb gave way to cover-less desert scrub. She pulled hard to the left, heading back towards the city. The police helicopter arced much wider as its pilot tried to keep up with her sudden turn.

  A cluster of office buildings loomed ahead. Her back muscles burned as she flew as fast as possible. While the helicopter gained on her once again, she dove behind the first building. The moment she broke contact, she banked hard to the side, weaving through the buildings. After it crested the top of the building, the helicopter abandoned trying to stay directly on top of her and rose, trying to find a better vantage point. Olivia kept low, even after clearing the offices, skirting low enough she could have grazed the roof of the suburban housing she found herself over. The spectators on the ground may have cameras pointed at her, but they couldn’t call the cops fast enough to matter.

  She blinked the afterimage of the sun out of her eyes as she turned back to the hideout. This doesn’t seem right. Doesn’t the sun rise in the east? Instead of the familiar slopes of the foothills of the Rockies to the west, the sheer cliff face of a mountain rose to the northeast directly ahead of her. Wrong mountains. Wrong way. The helicopter closed her hard won distance as she dithered, trying to reorient herself in the sky of an unfamiliar city.

  If I keep going back they might find the others. I can’t fist fight a helicopter. I’m not going back to the lab.

  Olivia took a deep breath and dove once more, this time heading straight for the downtown of Phoenix. The skyscrapers might not have been as high as the ones back home in Westward City, but they would serve. The police helicopter, upon seeing the direction of her turn, picked up speed. It passed overhead, the wind from the rotors shoving her down, and lowered directly between her and the city. But for all the pilot’s skill and foresightedness, Olivia could coast far lower to the ground than he could. Once again she grazed the rooftops, heading to what passed for the urban jungle in the desert.

  Once again, she wove through tall buildings, forcing the helicopter upwards and out of a good vantage spot. Eventually, she circled around one skyscraper to the rear of the helicopter, who showed no sign of tracking her. She broke line of sight with another building and dove for a rooftop with a sizable access for her to hide behind.

  With her back pressed to a wall, she took several deep breaths as the beat of the helicopter receded. Sirens still cut through the air, but didn’t seem to converge around her rooftop. Sweat from her aerial sprint soaked her T-shirt, and the heat of the early summer sun didn’t help the matter. What do I do now? I’m probably out of range of the comms. Oh, right, I have a phone. Once she could keep her fingers steady enough to not gouge her phone with her claws, she called Chris.

  “Olivia? Are you OK? Where are you?” he asked the moment he picked up.

  “Um, Chris? The cops are following me. I didn’t want to lead them right to you,” replied Olivia.

  “Where are you now?” came the immediate response.

  “At the top of this tall building. It's daylight out now. They can see me easily if I fly.” Something caught in her throat for a second. “I don’t want to get caught again,” she admitted.

  “Do they know where you are now?” asked Chris.

  “No, I think I lost them. But if I try to fly anywhere, they’ll see me again,” stammered Olivia.

  “Alright. Do you know where you are right now? I’ll come pick you up.”

  “I, um, I don’t really know.”

  “Hang on, Amanda’s saying something.” Chris’ phone picked up some indistinct murmurs. “Alright, she has your gps. I’ll drive there and see if we can get you down from there. Stay out of sight until then, alright?”

  “OK. Thank you.”

  “See you soon,” said Chris, hanging up.

  She slumped to the ground as the last of the adrenaline drained from her system. I hope Ben and Miya are OK. I should have asked. Maybe I can call again and ask. Or is it weird to just keep calling someone? Why did they do this without anyone else? They almost died with just the two of them. Who were those guys, anyways?

  She heard the helicopter return long before it came into view. Oh no. Did they find me? How? Her back, where her wings met the rest of her, groaned in protest as she stood once more. She scrambled to another side of the roof access, keeping it between her and the obvious source of noise. The helicopter loomed closer and louder, and all Olivia could do was pull in her wings and tail. Then, with her breath caught in her throat and the helicopter almost upon her, the roar slowly receded, the helicopter continuing its patrol none the wiser. That wasn’t so bad.

  A dull ache on her upper left arm caught her attention. Through a bullet hole in her shirt, she sported a growing bruise on the muscle. Oh, that guy in the car must have got me. And I didn’t notice. I’m tired of being big and obvious. I’m tired of getting angry and screaming and fighting. It’s wrong, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. I’m doing something wrong. Or Ben and Miya did something wrong. Or those other gunmen did something wrong. I don’t know.

  A few minutes later the helicopter approached for another pass. With a grumble, she got up and trudged over to another side of the roof access, keeping her pursuer out of view. At least this side has shade. Nothing else bothered her for the next thirty minutes, until her phone buzzed with a text from Chris.

  ***

  They pulled into the parking lot of the scrapyard office that served as their hideout. Once they hit a lull in the traffic nearby, Olivia and Chris rushed her inside and away from prying eyes. Antiseptic hit Olivia’s nostrils the moment she ducked through the door. Ben lay on a cot as the others gathered around him. Oh no, thought Olivia as she strode over as fast as her clawed feet could take her.

  Rob kept the injured arm elevated above Ben’s chest as Miya wrapped the bandage around the two short stumps as tight as she could. Amanda gathered old, blood-soaked bandages in a trash bag next to her.

  “There,” said Miya as she finished, voice dull and exhausted. “We should probably get that cleaned again once the bleeding stops.” Her attention snapped to Olivia as she rushed forward. “Watch the hand!” she said as Olivia wrapped Ben up in a tight hug.

  “Are you OK?” asked Olivia as Sanchez’ abrupt death replayed itself in her mind’s eye for the hundredth time since she got off the roof. “Chris on the way here said your hand was shot but I didn’t know how you’re doing or if you’re alive or what’s going on.”

  “I’ll live,” croaked Ben, patting her shoulder with his good hand. “If you let me breathe.”

  Amanda glanced in Miya’s direction and said, “They didn’t hit any organs, he didn’t lose nearly enough blood. He’s just missing two fingers from his left hand.”

  “Oh, OK,” said Olivia, breathing a sigh of relief. “Wait, missing? They’re gone?”

  “Yeah, a bullet went right through the two knuckles, it looks like,” said Amanda. Oh God. “Those fingers are gone. I couldn’t find enough for a doctor to reattach.”

  “How are you feeling?” Miya asked Ben.

  “Blurg. Hand fuckin’ hurts.” he said with a grimace. Ben held his left hand in front of him and wiggled his three remaining fingers through the bandages. “Fuck. Feels really fuckin’ weird. Like there should be fingers there, movin’ when I tell ‘em to.”

  “Yeah. Phantom sensations or something like that.” Miya sat down next to him on the cot. “Sorry.”

  “Can’t regrow them?” he asked, eyebrow raised. Olivia perked up at the possibility. Maybe he’ll be OK. That’s a good idea.

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  “The bone, nothing else,” replied Miya. “You know, like no muscles or skin.”

  “What the hell is the point of magic, then?”

  “No, I’m sorry. No. If it’s not bone, I can only do stuff your body would do naturally. Bodies naturally want to heal cuts and bruises, but we’re not starfish or something like that. People don’t regrow their fingers naturally. I’m so sorry.” Olivia glanced at Miya, surprised by her apologetic tone. Are you OK, Miya? It's good that you’re not just angry, but it's weird.

  “But it’s magic,” he stated, his usual grin returning.

  Miya hung her head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

  “You’re sorry,” Ben repeated. Here it comes. Miya flinched, as Olivia frowned at the sudden change in tone. Is he mad? Please don’t fight. Ben nodded for a moment, looking off into the distance before his gaze snapped back to Miya. “You pull the trigger?”

  “What? No,” replied Miya, recoiling back at the suggestion.

  “Then why the fuck would I blame you?”

  “Because I dragged you there without any idea what we would find. I dragged you there without knowing he would have some kind of an alert set up. I didn’t want to bring the others, and you wouldn’t have been there if I wasn’t such a fucking idiot.”

  “Whoa, whoa. Back up. Dragged? I came up with an’ went along with half that shit,” said Ben with total honesty. “An’ you ain’t a precog, unless you’ve been holdin’ out on us. Have you?” he asked with a wide grin. How are you so happy?

  “No, bu-”

  Ben cut her off. “An’ even so, some chucklefuck shot me. In the interest of fairness, I woulda shot him. He just got lucky. Or me unlucky, one of the two. Anyways, he’s the one I’d blame.”

  “But-”

  “Shh.”

  “Bu-”

  “Shh.”

  “I-”

  “I got a whole bag of shh for you.” Amanda rolled her eyes.

  “Fine,” barked Miya. Once no shush arrived, she sighed. “Really?”

  “No amount of blame in the world is gonna make those fingers grow back. Stuff’ll probably be a pain in the ass now, but if I can’t manage I deserve to be a little bitch. Besides, I can still shoot a gun.”

  Miya rolled her eyes, though a smile broke through. “OK, tough guy.”

  “And don’t get shot next time, dumbass,” said Rob. Olivia’s eyes widened. Did he really just say that?

  Ben grinned. “Try it sometime. Shut you up real quick.”

  “I’ll pass. Gotta give you a nickname now.”

  “You start callin’ me Stumpy I break your nose,” said Ben, deadpan.

  Rob snickered. “Fair enough. Hey, you can even make that rock sign thing they always do at those metal concerts you go to.”

  Ben extended his three remaining fingers and grinned. “Hey, yeah, you’re right.” He hopped up from the cot and teleported over to grab a bag of potato chips, then stopped as he realized everyone stared at him. “What?” he asked.

  “Are you actually alright?” asked Amanda.

  “Good enough, I guess. Still hurts, but I ain’t made of fuckin’ glass all of a sudden.”

  “You’re missing two fingers,” Chris pointed out. Yeah, you seem disturbingly accepting of that, Ben.

  “Thanks,” said Ben. He hopped off the cot and teleported to the cabinet where they kept their meager food supply, straight from the finest gas stations Phoenix had to offer. He fumbled with the bag of potato chips, wincing as he tried to hold it still with his maimed hand.

  “Watch your hand. Let me help,” said Miya.

  “I fuckin’ got it,” Ben snapped. Olivia recoiled, even though he didn’t address her. He finally managed to pinch the bag still with his maimed hand, and popped the bag open. “See? Y’all gonna keep starin’ at me?”

  Olivia spotted a slight reddening of his cheeks, and his shoulders hunching as if being hunted. She turned to the others. Even as Ben teleported away, they all still stared. It’s like me back in the lab. I think he just wants some space.

  “Sure,” said Rob. “I’m gonna get back to work now. Tracker zapper ain’t done.” He headed for the back door.

  “Don’t you care?” asked Olivia, frowning.

  Rob whirled around, not smiling. “I care fuckin’ plenty. All the carin’ in the world ain’t gonna help right now. He’s alive, conscious, an’ so on. I could whine about it, or I could get some shit done before I shotgun some dudes in the face.” With that, he headed out the back to the scrapyard.

  I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that. She glanced at Miya and Amanda, both stone-faced and silent. At least they don’t seem to agree with him. I don’t think either brother is OK.

  “Alright,” said Chris, breaking the tension. “Amanda, can you give him a hand? The moment that tracker is out of Olivia we’ll head out of town. Hopefully that gives Ben enough recovery time.”

  ***

  That evening, with the sun setting and a dinner of burgers obtained, they gathered around a pair of folding tables to eat. The techies took a break from their work, Chris and Miya came in from the cars laden with food, and Olivia settled down next to Ben with a wing over his shoulder. He’s not trying to shrug me off now, that’s good.

  Amanda checked the label as they passed out everyone’s orders. “Didn’t you guys mention you went here last night?” she asked.

  “It was worth sharing with everyone else,” replied Chris.

  Miya nudged Chris with a smile and said, “He means he wanted that peanut butter shake again.”

  Chris replied by locking eyes with her and taking a long drink from his cup. He cleared his throat and said, “Miya, is there anything else you wanted to do here that you haven't mentioned?”

  “I think I’ve taken care of everything. Wait, no. I’d like to figure out if there are any of Overlord’s people in the city.” Olivia sank her teeth into a triple burger as she watched.

  “That’s a hornet’s nest you’d be better off leaving alone,” said Amanda from her plastic folding chair. “Overlord is well above our pay grade. Several orders of magnitude, actually.”

  “Yeah, all those mulched up people they found in Iraq weren’t there because he’s so nice and cuddly,” chipped in Ben, rubbing his palm where the fresh bandages wrapped around his hand.

  “Wait,” said Olivia. “Did you, um, mulched? People?” What does that even mean?

  “When the coalition thingy invaded Iraq, they found places where people’s bodies had been experimented on and shredded after,” said Rob.

  Olivia felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. I just ate. “Why?”

  “Don’t know,” said Amanda. “Don’t want to know. But Miya, that’s the kind of guy you don’t want to mess with.”

  “Ben stole that sniper rifle from him,” Miya pointed out.

  “Not an experience I’d like to repeat!” exclaimed Ben.

  “So who do you think might be working with Overlord here?” asked Chris.

  “There was the guy who kidnapped me in the first place. That sure wasn’t Don.”

  “Well who was it?” asked Ben.

  Miya grimaced as she dredged up the memory. “Alright, so there’s not much to tell. I didn’t recognize him, but he did stick out. I was at a dollar store that didn’t have anyone but the cashier, and he was busy cleaning. Someone else came in and I ducked into another aisle.”

  “Duck? Why were you dodging him before?” asked Chris.

  “I might have been shoplifting some things at that moment. But he followed me, which was weird. He was super tall and thin, bald, and weirdly well dressed. Who wears a suit in the desert to a dollar store? Anyways, I started hurrying away when something weird grabbed me and threw me into a shelf. I turned around and that guy had two tentacles growing out of him.”

  “Wait, hold on. Tentacles?” said Rob, raising his hand.

  “Yeah, coming out from under his skin, it was really creepy. He never said a word.”

  Rob shook his head. “When you say tall dude, you mean, like, Olivia tall? Half as wide? No body hair?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I said he was bald, but I wasn’t checking his arms out or anything.”

  “Thin tentacles, only a few inches wide? No suckers, right? Felt like steel?”

  “How the hell do you know all that?”

  “Cuz that’s fuckin’ Slim Jim. Overlord threw fuckin’ Slim Jim at you?”

  Horror dawned on Amanda and Ben’s faces, though Miya and Chris looked just as confused as Olivia felt. “Who?” asked Miya.

  “An old, unkillable merc,” explained Rob.

  “He does a lot of dirty work for Overlord,” said Amanda. “Like, kidnapping techies, or at least stealing their work.”

  “Old Lizard Lips don’t come cheap, what the fuck? We were worried about that tracker, but you’re way higher up on the food chain than I thought,” said Ben.

  “Wait, did you just call him Lizard Lips?” Amanda asked Ben.

  “Yeah, that’s what people also call him. I don’t think he chose either of those names, if I’m bein’ honest.”

  “Well, he’s the one who dropped me off to Sanchez in Westward and gave him marching orders. I think he’s more than just a mercenary.”

  Chris frowned as he considered. “Maybe not. A show of force isn’t the worst thing when you’re handling a mob boss, that’s something you hire a mercenary for.”

  Ben spoke up, “There’s other mages out there, why you?”

  Miya shrugged. “I have no idea. He’s branching into magic.”

  “And he has interest in Olivia,” said Amanda. “Is there a connection? That bot knew Olivia had magic defenses, if it managed to punch a tracker into her skin. What kind of tests did Dr. Grey do at the lab?” she asked Olivia.

  Olivia rubbed her elbows, feeling chill as the AC kicked on. “Like I said, a lot of it was psychological stuff. Um, there were also things like strength and reflex tests and stuff.”

  “Anything else?” insisted Amanda. “Anything to do with magic?”

  “Oh, yeah. They took a bunch of samples of my blood, once they figured out the magic thing.”

  “How much is a bunch?” asked Chris.

  “Ten? Yeah, about ten.”

  Everyone stayed quiet for a moment. That means something bad, but I’m not sure what. It’s just blood. They just wanted it for DNA stuff, right? I remember asking Dr. Ruskov about it.

  “Um, what’s wrong with the blood samples?”

  “You know what DNA is?” asked Rob.

  “Oh yeah! DNA is the genetic code of all life on earth. It governs how our cells work and how traits are expressed, like height. And it’s, um, a double helix. Yeah.” Olivia smiled. I knew something!

  Amanda’s typing faltered for a moment. Miya glanced at Olivia as Rob blinked. What? “How did you know that?” asked Rob.

  “I was talking with one of the doctors at the feral place, and he told me. I can learn things on my own, you know.”

  “Oh,” said Rob. “OK. Well, I’m no expert, but from what I understand, DNA is needed to know what exactly is goin’ on in somethin’. Also, that’s what you use to clone somethin’.”

  “Could also get genetic enhancements from your DNA,” added Amanda. “Sky’s the limit for Overlord. There’s not much official progress on genetic manipulation, it keeps getting bogged down by politics, but he’s not so restricted.”

  “The magic stuff that makes you bulletproof is biological, too,” added Miya. I’m not bulletproof. They hurt.

  “So, what does that mean? Like, should we do something? But he already has my blood,” said Olivia. What more would he want?

  “I neither know nor care at the moment.” Chris turned to the techies. “Get that tracker out. Get it out yesterday. If you need me to rob a bank to do that, just say the word. But get it out. He’s not going to leave two experiments laying around like this.”

  “He didn’t give a shit about me, I was a failure,” said Miya.

  “For now.”

  “Yeah, we’re on it,” said Rob.

  “You can skip the bank, but we could use some coffee,” added Amanda.

  “Done,” said Chris, standing up and crumpling his now empty burger wrapper into a ball.

  Rob leaned in towards Amanda and said, “Hey, when we’re done, you wanna make a railgun?”

  Amanda froze, trying to comprehend the question. “What?”

  “Wanna make a railgun?” repeated Rob.

  “No, I got that. What brought this on?”

  “Do you not want a railgun?”

  Amanda thought for a moment. “I do. I’ve tried, but never got anything usable.”

  “Let me guess, rails gave out too quick.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The metal rails.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She said, to the metal techie.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened, annoyance replaced with excitement. “That’s a good point. Let's get this stupid zapper done.” Oh good, they’re getting along again. I hope it lasts longer this time.