Overtaken (29 page)

The version that was reported by the media explained that Bar Tech's headquarters were being moved as a result of the nearly catastrophic avalanche. Blame for any misconduct was placed squarely on Richard Cochran's shoulders. The technology being developed by Bar Tech was far too valuable to be housed in a town that was so vulnerable to natural disasters. If the avalanche had powered all of the way to Bar Tech's headquarters, billions could've been lost. And why hadn't it? The story was light on those details

I'd had a recurring nightmare as a child about drowning in a tsunami. Frozen in fear, I'd watched the wall of water tower over me, taller than the Empire State Building or Mount Kilimanjaro or any of the very tall things I'd seen in my short time on earth . . . and then break, rushing down at impossible speeds and burying me in stories upon stories of deep blue water. I'd swim up, kicking as hard as I could, but the light at the surface would be fathoms too far to make it without refilling my lungs. But then I would wake up, gasping first for air and then shrieking for my mother as soon the fear had quelled enough to force words from my mouth. The wall of snow barreling down Whiteface had been my nightmare come to wintery life, but the differences were stark.

For one, it was thunderous. And it grew louder and louder, almost deafening as it tumbled down the face of earth and rock. But for the first time in my nightmare, I wasn't alone. My friends were with me, staring down the white monster together. Our words were drowned out and unlike the wave, where the water hovered over me at its peak for what felt like forever, the snow came far too fast. When the snow hit, barreling through us like the end of the world, there was no swimming. The snow was real and unkind, and it swallowed Maya whole just like her power swallowed it. Two creations of equally matched mass and force pitted against each other, ending both in a violent flash.

Our astral bodies had been knocked back to Whiteface a split second after impact. It had taken a few moments, disoriented by my sudden return, for the tears to come. Maya had saved my life—our lives. She'd saved the whole town, but she was buried under an endless depth of snow. Fear had turned to grief as I realized that the white wave hadn't been my tsunami at all. It had been Maya's nightmare, and she wouldn't be waking up.

I still couldn't believe she was gone. So little time had passed between watching her get her heart torn out at her own memorial service and her self-sacrifice to save all of Barrington. Maya, too, had been a force of nature, unable to harness her great power, able only to point it in a direction. Regardless, I was racked with guilt. I'd asked her to stay. I'd asked her to help. What if I'd been able to stop Cochran before he'd set off the detonations? Would Maya be with us now?

That “us” was growing in size, too. Not only had Lydia joined my dad and me, but our house had felt a bit like an orphanage for my friends these past few days. I hadn't told them much about my dad's job, his real job for the Department of Defense, but they did know that he had been working the inside of Bar Tech and knew about all of our powers. Lydia, obviously, had learned when Topher and I had projected to Antarctica, but she was catching up very quickly. It was a huge change for Jackson, Topher, and Oliver. Loving, caring adults they could talk to.

As part of the attempt to help all of us get back on our feet and settled back into our everyday lives, everyone had been invited over for dinner. Jackson arrived first, while my parents were cooking and laughing in the kitchen, and even though it had been only an hour or so since our walk had ended, I was incredibly glad to have him back at my side. Topher and Oliver arrived about fifteen minutes later, and I was surprised to see Chase in tow. I was a deer in the headlights, my fingers still intertwined with Jackson's, but none of us said a word. Regardless, I pulled my hand free of Jackson's. There was no need to rub it in Chase's face.

While the guys were arguing with my father about college football team rankings, which I had less than zero interest in, I wandered outside to get a breath of fresh air. I stared up at the glittering night sky. I certainly wasn't one to get philosophical all about life, but sticking around in Barrington for more than a few months seemed kind of awesome to me. Who knew what the future would bring for any of us? I certainly had no clue. About the only thing I knew was that I wanted my future to be in Barrington—at least until I graduated high school.

Still, I had to wonder . . . Were there other kids out in the world beyond Barrington with powers? Had the pulses affected others in ways we might not know for years to come? Or were we the only ones with enhanced abilities? And would we pass on those powers to our children? Or would those genes die out in some kind of genetic drift? I chuckled to myself. I'd actually learned something from Bluni's research.

“See those three stars, all in a row?”

I turned around to see Oliver. “That's Orion's Belt,” he said, pointing to the constellation. “The three major stars across are called Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. The other two—Betelgeuse and Rigel—make up his shoulder and his foot. And up there, in that arrow shape?” He pointed near Orion. “Those are the seven sisters. They're named after Atlas's daughters, who were said to be the objects of Orion's affections.”

“You may be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but you're still kind of a really big nerd,” I said with a glib smile.

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“Don't ever change,” I quipped.

“Dinner's ready,” my mother called out as she opened the sliding-glass door to the kitchen. The fragrant aroma of curry, basil, coriander, and other Thai spices wafted out, beckoning us back.

Oliver and I set the table while my parents lined the food up buffet-style. When we were all seated, it felt like we were gathered for a special occasion, a birthday or Thanksgiving or at least the kind of dinner where someone would make a toast.

But it was just a Thursday-night dinner. That was special enough.

Oliver had already started stuffing his face, but he paused mid-chew when I stood up, water glass in hand. A sweeping gesture. Everyone looked surprised. It was very unlike me, which I was reminded of as soon my mouth went cotton-dry.

“Um, I just wanted to say something,” I began. “We've all been through a lot this year, and I guess I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for taking care of me, watching over me, listening to my problems, and”—I smiled slyly at Oliver—“calling me on my shit.”

Oliver shrugged and grinned back. “Anytime.”

“I'm just really glad you're all here.” Maya weighed in the back of my mind again as soon as I'd said it. As I sat back down, I silently wished that she were here, too. I figured everyone else was having the same thought; there was no reason to say it out loud.

Dinner was nice, even if I found myself occasionally wincing at its cloying Hallmark Channel charm. I rested my hand on Jackson's thigh, under the table and outside of anyone's sight. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his surprised smile before he could temper it. It was just nice to touch him—to know he wanted to be there with me. And so what if I got a little thrill that he and I were the only ones to know?

An interruption came with the loud ringing of a cell phone. For a moment no one recognized it as their own, looking around only to see who would silence the rude disturbance. Then my dad stood up from the table. He looked a little nervous as I watched him, putting the pieces together. I hadn't recognized it as his ringtone—it had been a jazzy version of the
Top Gun
theme, and incredibly embarrassing, as long as I'd known him—but I watched him move across the dining room and kitchen to a cell phone nonetheless.

At first I was a little sad that he had finally given in to to my desperate pleas to join the twenty-first century, but added his confusion and delay together with the look of concern and realized his devotion to 1980s Tom Cruise had not wavered: The ringing was, in fact, a second cell phone—his Batphone, a direct and private line to the Department of Defense. And now they were calling.

He answered, ducking out of the room in a gesture of politeness but what I knew was really a move for privacy. I couldn't help getting up to follow him. I walked out of the kitchen and turned left like I was headed for the bathroom, but doubled back toward the stairs. From the faint sound of my dad's voice, I could tell he'd padded upstairs to his office. Instinct told me to follow, but we'd been over this so many times. We trusted each other, and everything was out in the open now, at least among our immediate family.

I forced myself to sit down at the base of the stairs. I could wait a few minutes for him to tell me himself. Maybe it was nothing—or maybe it was an update about Bar Tech or even a new assignment. Or perhaps they'd located Cochran, found something to charge him with. That was probably a long shot, but who said it had to be bad news?

At least I wasn't alone.

Also by Mark H. Kruger

Overpowered

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2015 by Mark H. Kruger

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Interior design by Hilary Zarycky

The text for this book is set in Janson.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Kruger, Mark H.

Overtaken / Mark H. Kruger.—First edition.

pages cm

Sequel to: Overpowered.

Summary: “After the mysterious pulses changed Nica Ashley's life forever, she was sure things could only get worse when Dana Fox returned. Her reappearance after having gone missing for months surely meant losing her friendship with Jackson but also that something more ominous is simmering under the surface of quiet Barrington”—Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-1-4424-3131-7 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4424-3133-1 (eBook)

[1. Science fiction. 2. Conspiracies—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.K9414Ovt 2015

[Fic]—dc23

2014030095