Authors: Andrew Ball
having Rachel at her beck and call. If he kept
taking up Rachel’s time, Eleanor might try to
do something about it.
No. He should assume she was
going
to
do something about it. He’d have to be ready
for that.
"Well, whatever," Daniel said. "Never
fear, Danny’s here. Let’s do the next
section."
The clock kept ticking. With a little
direction, Rachel started making measurable
progress. They took frequent study breaks in
the form of make-out sessions.
He managed to get commitments for two
more dates, but she could never stay out very
late. Another thing that had to do with
Eleanor. It sort of worked out in his favor,
though; he had a lot of hunting to do. He
wasn’t sure when the extractors would show
up in Boston, but it was only a matter of
time.
The entrance to the dorm opened. They
both looked to the end of the common room.
"Ah," Daniel said. "Lieutenant. You’re needed on the bridge."
"Right away, captain commander." Jack
paused at the edge of the couch. He gave
Rachel a weird look, scratched his buzz-cut,
then walked down the hall behind them. "See
you."
Rachel waited until he was out of
earshot. "I don’t think he likes me."
"He’s just shy."
"If you say so." She flipped her pen in
her fingers. "Is the captain thing some kind of
inside joke?"
"It’s from a video game." Daniel looked
down the hall after Jack. "He usually gets
home early. Maybe he’s finally coming out of
the shell a bit."
"More than a bit," Rachel said. "We saw him earlier."
"You did?"
She nodded. "He was bragging to some
girls from another dorm about his car. They
were dumb as rocks, and that’s an insult to
rocks, but he was doing just fine for
himself." Daniel frowned. Rachel caught his
expression. "Aww. Wittle Jacky leaving the
bird’s nest?" Daniel gave her a half-smile.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then set back
to work.
Daniel played with the lock of hair on
his forehead. He didn’t know Jack had a car.
In fact, Jack had just told him the other day
that he was here mostly on scholarship. He
didn’t have that much spending money. Why
would he be bragging about a car?
After they’d gotten through a solid
chapter, Daniel decided to let Rachel go. She
gave him a very long, very steamy goodnight
kiss. She broke away, but kept a hand on his
shirt collar. "Hey Daniel?"
"Hey Rachel."
She traced a finger up to his neck and
along his chin. "Maybe we can study in my
room next time?"
"Um…sure. Whatever works."
Rachel giggled and stepped back from
him. "You are so easy. See you tomorrow!"
Daniel watched her sway down to the
stairwell, then walked back to his room,
running a hand along the drywall. How far
was he going to push things with her?
Running a victory lap with a girl while
dealing with the Vorid was dangerous.
She was beautiful. Sweet. Playful. Too
good for him to risk because for his own
petty selfishness. But she was addicting.
He brushed his hair back over his ears.
He’d made his decision back in the park. If
he second-guessed himself on everything,
he’d never get anywhere. He had as much a
right to be happy as anyone.
He just wished he had as much a right to
be as normal as anyone.
He went into the room. Jack was busy
playing a shooter on his PC. "Yo J-dog,"
Daniel said. "What’s kickin’ in the hood?"
"Just fraggin’ some mofo’s." Jack
pounded at his keyboard. "Shitshitshit!" An RPG connected at Jack’s feet. His character
was blown to pieces. He slapped the mouse
down on the desk. "Goddamn lag!"
"Sure, blame it on the lag." Daniel took
his shoes off. "What were you up to?"
"When I was out?" Jack said. He kept
his eyes on the screen. "Nothing interesting.
Extra help session for my test."
"I heard from Rachel you went out with
some girls."
"Yeah, that was before."
"I didn’t know you had a car."
Jack finally looked at him. "Huh?"
"She said you were bragging about a
car. Would have made the grocery shopping
a bit easier."
Jack smiled sheepishly. "I don’t, but a
friend of mine does, so I was talking it up a
bit. He was drunk at the time, but he offered
to let me borrow it. Maybe you know him?
His name’s Richard. Real huge guy. He’s the
one that got his finger broken by duchess."
"…yeah, I know him." Daniel sighed.
He didn’t want to rain on his friend’s parade,
but maybe he should say something about
Richard. Jack might not know how he was.
Jack frowned. "Hey, Daniel, can I tell
you something? Bro to bro?"
"Sure."
"Rachel?" He shook his head. "I get bad vibes, man. All the guys say she’s a total
bitch. There’s a rumor going around that
they’re lesbians. Her and duchess."
Daniel laughed. "She’s bi at worst.
Anyway, that’s because they’re constantly
hitting on her and getting rejected. Or they’re
spreading propaganda to get me out of the
way."
"You think so?"
"I’ve seen people do worse for less."
"You guys official, or what?"
He thought back to that kiss. And her
sultry invitation. "Yeah, it’s pretty official."
"Just keep your guard tight." Jack said.
"I mean, you seemed pretty friendly on that
couch, but you just met her. She was
duchess’s lapdog first. Trust me. I’ve had
some bad experiences with women."
"I’ll keep my eyes open, ok?" Daniel
said. Jack nodded, then swiveled back to his
game.
Daniel sat on his bed. Jack was just
trying to look out for him, and maybe he had
a point. He didn’t know everything about her,
did he? Was the Rachel he saw just her
public face? It was just a little extra worry
piling onto a swiftly growing mound.
He sighed and leaned back on his
pillow. He’d sort it out the next morning.
****
The next morning was not the soothing
period of introspection Daniel hoped it
would be. When he went for breakfast, he
found a group of people clustered in front of
the common room TV—Rachel and Eleanor
included. He walked up to them. "What’s
going on?"
"There’s been another murder," Rachel
said. "This one broke on the news, and they
dug up the other two stories." She said the
next words through gritted teeth. "He’s being
called the Boston Smasher. Because of the
way he does it."
"That’s messed up." Daniel poked his
head between the shoulders of the onlookers.
Sure enough, there were fly-by shots of a
crime scene. He read text at the bottom of the
screen.
Boston Smasher Strikes Again: Police
Attempt to Cover Up Third Attack
Daniel wrapped Rachel around the
waist. "Don’t go out alone, alright?" She
nodded and hugged him back.
Daniel didn’t miss Eleanor’s eyes. She
did not approve of their growing closeness.
He noted it, and filed it away.
As the day went on, the news spread.
Two of the three girls were from
Northeastern. Campus security was on high
alert. Everyone was traveling in packs of
four or five people. Daniel had a feeling that,
from the way the killer operated, having
more people might not help.
Two weeks passed. The calculus test
came and went, and Rachel earned a B+, her
best so far. It was plenty enough to pull her
up from borderline failing.
They saw each other after class every
day. When they could, they ate meals
together. Rachel tried to balance her time
between him and Eleanor. Daniel could hear
the tension in her voice when Rachel
excused herself on that account. The problem
wasn’t going away.
Daniel had yet to see the inside of her
room. She was outgoing enough to be
forward about that sort of thing, but he
wanted to take things slow.
He really liked her. He knew that. He
hadn’t felt so strongly about someone
since…ever. He could feel the infatuation
corrupting his judgement as sure as purple
haze. He kept rationalizing why it was fine
for him to continue seeing her. He was an
idiot.
Just being associated with him was a
dangerous thing. But he knew why he kept
going back. For the first time in a very long
time, Daniel was honestly, truly happy with
his personal life. He was at college, learning
about what he wanted to do. He had friends
he could actually talk to. And for some crazy
reason, a beautiful redhead wanted to date
him. Trying to stop himself from bathing in
his relationships was the equivalent of a
druggie turning up his nose at three million
dollars of cocaine.
One thing for sure, though—he was
convinced Jack’s worries were baseless.
Either the Rachel he knew was the real
Rachel, or she was the best actor he’d ever
known. For now, that was enough.
He’d made the decision. He was seeing
her, for better or worse. His heart sung that it
was for the better, but the sense of
responsibility was clear. If he wanted a life,
he had to grow strong enough to protect it.
Five weeks had passed since the start of
school, and still the Vorid extractor dome
didn’t come. He kept checking and adding to
his gear. Without much else to do, his armor
was a growing mess of plates and loops.
After surviving another two rounds of
extractors in Aplington, and all around the
suburbs surrounding his hometown, he was a
lot stronger, but the Vorid might use a
different strategy on a city this big. He
wasn’t sure what to expect.
He spent a night sprinting back to
Aplington to meet the extractor threat. His
hometown was still on its normal schedule.
Now he was strong enough to take on three at
once without much effort. If he came in
quick, he could hit them before they could
react.
He had to range far away to find prey
back in the city. The magicians watching
over Boston had erased the Vorid spawn
presence. He was happy for that, but the long
wait for an attack was oppressive.
****
It was just past midnight. Daniel was
reading a book on his bed when he felt the
dark crack in the sky tear open. He rolled
over and looked out the window.
The dome fell as a gray curtain, silent
cloth draped over half the city. It was at least
four or five times the size of the ones he’d
seen in Cleveland and Aplington. The border
wasn’t more than a hundred yards away. He
shut his book, got up, and pushed his feet into
his shoes.
Jack was sitting at his computer. He
looked back. "Going for a walk?"
"Yeah."
"Stay in brightly lit areas, you know? I
don’t want to see you on the news."
"Don’t worry, I’ll haunt you if I die."
Jack took a slurp of his soda. "I’ll keep
my pastor on speed dial."
Daniel snorted, then left the room. It was
past the new curfew for on-campus students,
so he briefly scryed to make sure no one was
around before slipping out the common room
door. He poured on the speed and zipped
into the parking garage.
At the top of the stairwell was a small
door that lead into a closet. Inside were a
few dust-coated bottles of cleaning supplies,
a rusty breaker box, and a lot of cobwebs.
And on the top shelf, in the back, was a
cardboard box holding his armor.
The design was still as ugly as ever, but
it was much more complete than before,
including shoulder pads, a neck guard, and
ankle plates, all made of his triple-layer
concoction of plexiglass, steel, and rubber.
He strapped each piece on with practiced
movements, then donned his helmet, securing
it under his chin with an adjustable strap. A
metal plate clicked into place over his face,
giving him a fat eye slit through which to see.
He withdrew his new weapon. He’d
been inspired by the medieval morning star,
which was basically a stick with a spiky
metal ball at the end. He made his own
version out of solid steel he stole from a
scrapyard in the port. It had a shaft about
three feet long, widening at the tip into a fat
metal cap. The cap was a jagged and twisted
collection of metal bits; he’d used his power
to sink them right into the steel. He felt a lot
safer with the nasty club between himself
and the extractors he was fighting, and he
could put a lot of power into a fully extended
swing.
From the parking garage, travel was
easy. Tons of buildings in downtown were
connected. Weaving between nests of brick