Paranormals (Book 2): We Are Not Alone (19 page)

“It’s not like the movies, though,” she conceded. “They aren’t exactly showing up in droves. Out of this whole prison, only
two
inmates have signed up. We know from the warden’s office that more of them are dropouts than that, but I guess maybe they’re too embarrassed to let other people know, or something.”

“Or they just don’t give a shit,” Mark chimed in, one of the few times he had spoken up from his position on the bench behind the family. Amanda and Curtis stiffened noticeably, but Mark ignored them — instead, he said to the little girl, Harmony, “Pardon my French,” which prompted her to giggle.

Disregarding the swearing, Christine said to Mark, “You could be right. And if so, I guess it’s all for the best. If they don’t want to be there, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to force them to attend. It’d just be a big headache for everyone. And it gives me plenty of one-on-one time with the two who
do
want to learn.”

The conversation carried on, highlighting the positive wherever it could be found. Once the family ran out of easy topics, Michael talked a little about his and Mark’s ongoing successes.

Harmony perked up on this. “In school, I heard about this bad guy who was a rogue who tried to rob a bank because ...” She giggled. “... because his B. O. was
sooo
bad, it knocked people out!”

Amanda shushed her, but Michael told her, “Yes, there was indeed a rogue with that very ability. But we cut him off as he was trying to leave that bank. Shockwave here was able to protect himself with a force field, and I carry an emergency face mask for situations just like that.” He reached into one of his coat pockets and pulled out the mask for her to see.

Harmony’s nose scrunched up as she looked at it. “It’s flat.”

Michael tapped the bottom of the light plastic on the table twice, and much to the girl’s delight, it popped out into the shape of a little face mask. He reached past her parents to hand it to her.

“Wow,” she marveled as she turned it over and over. “Did you beat the rogue?”

“We sure did.”

“Did you have help from that Powerhouse guy?”

Michael heard Mark grumble at that, and he told Harmony, “Nope, we took him out all by ourselves. I tried to shoot him with my stun gun, but he was pretty spry and I missed. So I kept him distracted and focused on me, and Shockwave here zapped him right in the chin with a one-fingered shockwave. Pow! Knocked him right out.” He neglected to mention
which
finger his partner had used.

Amanda took the mask from her daughter and returned it to Michael with a succinct, “Thank you.”

Michael nodded, slapped the mask back into its flat shape, and returned it to its pocket.

They talked about a few other things— a promotion for Curtis; improved arthritis for Aunt Sidney — and then a soft bell rang three times. Amanda and Sidney, who had visited Christine before, stood and started a rushed goodbye, as did many of the other visitors around the room.

Christine’s escort, who had maintained a courteous distance during most of the visitation, stepped forward and politely took her by the arm. “Time to go, ma’am.”

Michael also stood and surprised them all (himself included) when he asked her escort, “Would it be possible for her family to have a few more minutes? It’ll take that long for the room to clear out.”

Her escort glanced toward the doorway, then down at Michael’s badge. “A few minutes. Keep it short.”

Christine thanked Michael, and the rest, even Curtis, nodded in agreement. They continued with their goodbyes, but not so rushed now. Christine hugged her sister, her brother-in-law, and finally little Harmony. Amanda promised to return next month, and Harmony said she would send Christine a picture that she’d been making for her cell.

With that, the Hopkins family moved toward the exit, but Sidney lingered. She hugged Christine and kissed her on the cheek, then caught Michael completely off-guard by hugging him as well.

“Would you walk me to the door, Lieutenant?” Sidney asked. “I’d like a word with you, if I may.”

Michael saw no way to politely get out of this, so he told Christine and her escort, “I’ll be right back.”

Christine smiled and nodded; her escort twirled his finger in a loop, indicating Michael should hurry it up.

Michael followed Sidney as she moved at a slow pace toward the exit. Once they were clear of the table, she said, “Lieutenant, I’ll admit I’m not your biggest fan, but I do appreciate your coming today.”

“And I do apologize, again, for how I reacted when Amanda called.”

“I’ll relay that to Amanda.” She shook her head. “I love Christine dearly, but I understand that you were doing your job when you arrested her, and that punishment was indeed called for, for the poor choices she made. I ... I just want you to know that, although Christine has put on a brave face whenever I’ve come to visit, this is the first sign of true happiness I’ve seen from her since her incarceration began. Even her cheerful bravado at the beginning of this morning’s visit — before you showed up, I mean — was, I suspect, for Harmony’s benefit.”

They were almost to the exit, and Sidney stopped.

“I understand that you two have many issues to work out,” she said, “much to consider before you can begin to forgive her for the things she did, if you decide to forgive her at all. But please believe me when I tell you: Christine
does
 regret her actions, and she sincerely hopes to atone for her transgressions — against society and against you.” Now the last visitor, save Michael and Mark, Sidney touched his forearm before leaving. “Whatever you finally decide for yourself, please give her that chance.”

Michael could think of nothing to say; his feelings were too complex to explain to this women he had just met. So he settled for meeting her eyes with a pensive nod ...

Back at the visitation table, a very different exchange was taking place:

When Michael first stepped away with Christine’s aunt, Mark had moved from the bench where he’d been perched to the bench directly across the table from Christine. He didn’t look at her right away, both of them watching Michael and Sidney as they talked and made their way across the room.

As the two reached the exit and Sidney placed her hand on Michael’s forearm, Mark finally turned to Christine, who stared back at him with a trace of wariness.

Wariness which, it turned out, was justified.

“I’m gonna keep this short ‘n sweet, young’n,” Shockwave told her in a low voice, so that her escort missed most of it. “I’m here for Mike. Not ‘
you
and Mike,’ just Mike. Maybe you two’ll work something out, maybe you won’t ... but I’m makin’ you a promise right now.” He leaned a little closer, his posture relaxed and with a harmless-looking smile on his face. “If you hurt him again, I won’t kill you. I’ll make a nice, flat little shockwave around my fingernails and skin you alive. Literally. Understand me?”

Christine, who had gone quite pale, opened her mouth, but nothing got past her trembling lips.

Which didn’t really matter, because that last part was rhetorical; Mark had already turned his back on her.

PCA

Cooper crept out of his detention cell like a frightened mouse, ready to jerk back inside at the slightest provocation. If this was some miraculous opportunity to get the hell out of here, he didn’t want to miss his chance, but he was still half-convinced the guards were just playing games with him.

They weren’t. Two of the original guards who had escorted him from the armored truck to his cell remained in the hallway, but now they both lay crumpled to the floor. Thin trails of blood slithered down the backs of their necks. They didn’t look like they were breathing.

“Did you do that?”

Cooper yelped and threw up his shield; he tried to retreat back into his cell, but his shield was too large to squeeze through the reinforced doorframe.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said the same reedy voice. “Slow down there, buddy. Didn’t mean to give you a heart attack.”

Cooper rotated his shield to find another inmate standing in the doorway of his own cell. He was a gawky fellow with a thin face, an Adam’s apple about four sizes too large, and his orange jumpsuit hanging off him. He looked harmless enough, but if that were truly the case, he wouldn’t be in here.

“Guessing it wasn’t you. But did you see what happened?” the twerp asked. When Cooper didn’t answer, he raised his voice. “Can you hear me through that thing?!”

Cooper dropped his shield while waving for the guy to keep it down. He stepped closer to the first guard, but saw nothing suspicious except for the trail of blood, and whatever the source, it was hidden beneath the poor sap’s hairline.

“No,” he finally answered the twerp, “I didn’t see anything. I heard some noise, then my door opened and my metal sweatband—”

“Psi-jammer,” the twerp corrected as he moved to join Cooper.

Irritated, Cooper snapped, “Psi-jammer, whatever, it fell off.”

“Yeah, mine, too.”

Cooper looked up and down the hall, noting that there was only one entrance, the door through which they brought him earlier. He started to scratch at the gauze over his itching right ear, but forced himself to stop.

A metallic squeal sounded from the direction he was already looking, so he stayed mostly calm when another holding cell opened to reveal a third orange-clad prisoner. This one, a woman — at least, Cooper thought she was a woman; she was pretty butch, with tattoos on her face and short, spiky hair — eyed the two of them, then walked right over and knelt next to the second guard. Looking up, she asked in a husky voice, “You guys do this?”

The twerp answered for them, “Nope, not us.”

Standing, the woman sauntered over to the door at the end of the hall. Poking out a single finger, she pushed it just enough to show that it, too, was open and very slightly ajar.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” she said without looking back at them.

Cooper and the twerp edged their way toward her. Cooper, who was new to the whole life-of-crime thing, let alone having any experience with jailbreaks, asked, “Should we make a plan or something?”

The butch woman shrugged. “You can plan all you want, I don’t give a shit.
I
plan to start running and not stop until they bring me down or I lose them.”

“Sounds good to me,” the twerp said, before he confused Cooper by pulling off the top of his orange jumpsuit, exposing his skinny, bare chest and back.

“Just don’t run in the same direction as me,” the woman added.  “I shit you not, I will slap you down if you ruin this for me.”

“Wait,” Cooper insisted. The woman growled and looked at him, while the twerp pressed his head against the door to try and peek through the slender crack. “What do you guys do? To be put in here, I mean. What’s your thing?”

“I clap my hands,” the woman snapped, as though he should somehow already know this. “And when I do, you better cover your ears.”

“I’m the same, I guess,” the twerp said, his voice muffled by the door he was still peeking around; he was tying the loose sleeves of his jumpsuit around his waist. “But with me, you better cover your eyes.”

“Okay,” Cooper nodded. “I can—”

“Whatever,” the woman said. She pushed the twerp forward, using his body to open the door. “I’m gone.” Out in the larger corridor, she glanced left, then took off to her right. Once he recovered from his collision with the metal door, the twerp did the same.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Cooper followed them.

PCA

Michael saw Sidney through the exit before heading back toward Christine’s table. His nerves were no longer as taut, having already “made the leap,” as it were. But with her family gone, it was inevitable that they would discuss ... well, whatever it was that remained between them. Would he visit her again? Exchange letters? Or should he tell her that he only came to close the door, and was that even true?

On his way back, he noticed immediately that something had transpired. Mark was sitting opposite her now, facing Michael with his back reclined against the table. But Mark was looking a little too pleased with himself, while Christine appeared shell-shocked.

Oh, crap. What did Mark say to her?

But all of it became moot when an extremely loud thunderclap rattled the whole building.

All the guards drew their V9s or brought their V10s to bear. Christine’s escort rushed her from the visitors’ room — she managed one fleeting glance back at Michael, which he met with a reassuring wave and a promised, “I’ll see you again!”

An alarm went off a moment later, a sharp trill that would have induced teeth-grinding under normal circumstances, but after that loud explosion, it sounded a bit muffled.

Mark joined Michael in the center of the room. “Breakout?” he asked.

Michael nodded. “Unless some rogue whacko’s trying to break
in.
” He drew his own V9.

Mark started to say something like “Stranger things have happened,” but he got cut off by a second
Boom!
, this one even closer and louder than the first.

One of the guards, who had started yelling into his radio the instant the first sound hit, rushed over to Michael and Mark. “At least three rogues are making a break for it! Your assistance would be appreciated.”

Michael jogged toward the exit; Mark and the guard followed. “Where are they? Do you know what their power sets are?”

“They’re coming from the detention cells ...” (Michael and Mark exchanged a look — Cooper?) “... so they’re right outside! No word yet on their power sets.”

Michael and Mark emerged from the visitors’ room just in time for the third thunderclap, and it was the biggest, loudest one yet —
BOOM!
The force of it knocked them from their feet.

Michael rolled away from it, already digging through his coat pockets for some earplugs — they weren’t anything special, just regular, store-bought earplugs, but they’d be better than nothing. Mark held his ground, getting up to one knee as he twisted around, searching for a target.