The Deviant Underground (Time Bandit) (29 page)

Pia frowned. “That's not right. There's something there. I know it.”

“Could it be underground?” Don's booming voice filled the room.

“No.” She waved her hand over the area again. “No. There's a building there. I'm sure of it.” They all looked at the screen again. The empty field seemed to stretch for miles.

“You know . . .” Jonathan thoughtfully pressed his hands to his lips. “It’s possible that this image has been altered.”

“Altered how?” Kathryn asked.

“Well, I happen to know that there are a few military bases that do not show up on any map, even though they are there. The government has manipulated the satellite data in such a way that if you search for them, nothing appears except desert, abandoned lots, or . . .” He gestured to the screen, “empty fields.”

“So that's where Charge is,” Kathryn said definitively.

“I'm not so sure about that,” Pia replied. “I didn't feel him specifically. I just felt something . . . weird. Different. Like many energies swirling together, but muted. I'm sorry. That's all I got.”

“Thank you, Pia.” Jonathan placed his hand affectionately on her shoulder. “You have been invaluable.”

Pia got up from the desk, and she and Don headed for the front door. As they stepped out on the front porch, Pia turned to the three of them and said, “I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help.”

Kathryn could see the sincerity in her eyes and had a revelation. She went up to Pia and hugged her. “Thank you,” Kathryn said softly. “For finding me.”

Pia smiled. “You're welcome. We all knew that you needed to be with us.”

Kathryn hugged Don as well. The two of them got in the car, their police radio squawking as they drove away. After a few moments of silence, she turned to Jonathan. “So, when do we leave?”

Chapter Twenty Nine

A sharp, painful slap across the face is what woke him up. Charge opened his eyes, his vision blurry.
The alley. The dark alley and Alicia. A sting on the back of my neck.
Charge shook his head several times to try to clear it. His head felt like it was full of cotton—everything was muffled and fuzzy.
What happened?
He went to rub his hand across his throbbing cheek.
Who hit m—

His eyes snapped fully open when he realized that he couldn't move his hand. Both of them were bound behind him. Tightly. The poor circulation was causing them to tingle.

“So the freak is finally awake, huh?” A low, raspy voice hissed to the left of him. Charge turned to see a man with an angry buzz cut standing over him. His arms were folded across his chest. “Hit him again.” With that, Charge tried to bring forth a shield of electricity around his body, but nothing happened.
What the hell?

A fist stuck him squarely in the eye. He winced in pain and closed both of them tightly, preparing for the next blow. It came in the form of a jab to the nose. He heard the crack as it made contact, and blood dripped onto his lap. Tears welled up at the sting. “Nice one.” Buzz-cut chuckled. Charge opened his eyes again, now fully aware of his surroundings thanks to the pain. He tried again to channel his gift to defend himself, but for some reason, he couldn't. There were no jolts, no electricity balls. Nothing. He could smell the current in the air and feel it around him—particularly emanating from the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling—but he couldn't conduct it.

He looked down at the chair he was bound to. The ties were equally tight around his ankles, not allowing him to stand up. Behind his back, he rubbed his fingers along the knots that held them there.
Shit.

“Rubber, my friend.” Buzz-cut kicked the leg of his chair. “An insulator for electricity.” He walked around and stood directly in front of Charge. “But I guess you've figured that out by now.” Charge had never seen this guy before. He wasn't particularly tall. He wasn't particularly big. In fact, everything about him was perfectly average except for the look of pure disgust on his face.

“What do you want?”

A chilly smile played at the corners of his mouth. “In all honesty, freaks like you dead. But she has other ideas first.” He slowly walked out of Charge's field of vision and stood behind him. “Hit him again.”

A set of knuckles caught him in the mouth. His lip burst open against his teeth. The assailant, a larger guy with a similar haircut of the blonde variety shook his hand painfully. “That was a good one!”

Tasting blood, Charge turned, spat a mouthful onto the metal floor, and glared at him. There was no way these two goons were Mario's people. Deviants didn't do members of the family this way. Besides, he hadn't given Mario any reason to be pissed at him, and Mario would gain nothing from his demise. “Who are you?”

“If I say 'your worst nightmare,' is that too cheesy?” Buzz-cut slowly meandered around the room. The space was small and completely made out of metal. In the upper right hand corner, near the ceiling, was a black loudspeaker. It, the rubber chair, and a metal table a few feet behind Charge were the only things present—none of which gave him any clue as to where he was. “How about if I say that I'm someone whose job it is to eliminate freaks like you.” He turned to face Charge again. His cold eyes were dead. “And that's a job I really enjoy doing.”

His punch to Charge's chest was swift, hard, and perfectly placed; it completely knocked the wind out of him. Charge coughed and gasped for air. “Carl, stop.” A smooth voice purred out of the loudspeaker. Carl immediately stood up and stepped back. “Thank you. You mustn't damage him too much before he's had the opportunity to talk.” The voice chuckled without humor. “That is, if he chooses to talk. I'll be right there.”

Charge continued to wheeze as the men waited. Neither of them said anything and simply glared at him, Blondie pacing back and forth as he did so. The only sound in the room was Charge's heavy breathing as he struggled to catch his breath. He thought back to the many scrapes and confrontations he had been in throughout his life. Some had been highly confrontational and led to serious fights. This certainly wasn't the first time he had gotten his nose broken, but there was something about this situation that felt really bad, as in he might not make it out alive this time. He remembered Kathryn's soft touch and her hungry kisses and a lump formed in his throat. He coughed sharply to clear it away.

The metal door in front of him slid open and a woman entered the room. She was older than Charge, perhaps in her forties; her short brown hair was just beginning to be streaked with grey. Upon first glance, there was nothing at all intimidating about her, until he looked into her eyes. They were black. Not dark brown—pitch black. When she stared at Charge, he felt himself falling into them as she peered into his brain. Ice pricked up and down his spine.
Shit. A telepath.

“Why hello, Charge.” He looked away as she greeted him. “Or should I call you Sam? Which name do you prefer?” He said nothing. “Fine. We'll go with Charge, then.”

“Who are you?” He asked the wall, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“Oh that's not necessary for you to know. All that's important is that I know who you are.”

Charge decided to try a different tactic. If he made it out alive, any information he could gain would be useful. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a facility designed to house and conduct research on people like you.”

“Don't you mean 'like us?'“ Charge snapped.

She chuckled coldly. “Yes. I suppose I do.”

He kept his gaze firmly focused to the left of him. “How many of us are prisoners here?”

“Mm . . .about a hundred, give or take.”

“A hundred?” His eyes snapped back at her. Her gaze was liquid. Impenetrable. A chill gathered at the back of his neck, and he forced himself to look away again. “Why? What are you doing to them?”

“Oh, don't you worry about that.” She cleared her throat. “Now, Charge, it’s my turn to ask a few questions. But first, I need you to look at me.” Charge's neck slowly turned against his will, and his eyes raised themselves to meet hers. He felt as though someone had stuck their hand up into his back and manipulated him like a puppet. Her smile was a thin line across her face. “Now that's better. I'm going to give you a choice. You can either tell me the information I want or I can take the information I want. It's up to you.” Charge’s blood turned cold. Neither option sounded like a good idea. “So let's start with my first question. Who are the most powerful deviants under Jonathan's jurisdiction, and what are their abilities?” She shrugged slightly, and the mouth-line curved upwards at the corners. “I guess technically, that's two questions.”

Charge stared at her, unable to avert his eyes. The two black pools consumed him until they were all he could see. The image of Kathryn's face entered his mind, smiling at him, and touching his face gently. Charge tried to hold on to that mental picture as the woman's gaze enveloped him. He remained silent.

“Are you sure, Charge, that you don't want to just tell me? You know I will get this information from you, but telling me is a more,” her eyes shifted to the ceiling, momentarily giving him some relief, “pleasant experience.” Charge took a deep breath but said nothing. “Well, okay then. We'll have to do it this way.” Her gaze back on him, she took a few steps forward. Her eyes grew larger as she approached, sucking in all light and air around him like a black hole.
Kathryn. I love you.
The woman touched his face, and the small, metal room disappeared.

Chapter Thirty

Convincing Jonathan to let them go was difficult. At times, it was almost an argument. He was loath to send them on an unknown, and most likely hostile, assignment, but ultimately, Kathryn and Susan won the battle. The most persuasive argument that Kathryn came up with was that with her teleporting ability, she could easily get herself and Susan out of harm's way, should they encounter any harm. Reluctantly, Jonathan agreed.

A few hours later, Susan and Kathryn were at the airport purchasing one way tickets to Washington Dulles. As they boarded the plane, they said little to each other. The pounding in Kathryn's head had not gone away, and her stomach still felt uneasy. She hadn't had the chance to self-medicate with some of her tried and true hangover remedies, and in fact, in her haste she had forgotten to pack her cigarettes. Not that smoking was allowed on the plane anyway. She wondered how she would survive the five hour flight without one. Susan was quiet; she had only spoken a few words since they arrived at the airport, mostly in response to questions asked by the ticket agent. Now they sat next to each other in silence. Kathryn gazed out of the window as the plane took off. The ground fell away, and she surveyed the city below. It grew smaller and smaller before disappearing completely under a low-hanging cloud. She tried to stretch out her long legs underneath the seat in front of her. She already felt cramped in the close quarters.

“Do you think he's there?” Susan finally broke her silence.

“He has to be,” Kathryn mumbled. She didn't want to catch Susan's eye. She feared she might break down into tears if she did.

“What if he's not?”

Kathryn glanced at her before turning to face the window. “Then we keep looking until we find him.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Susan, and she fell silent once again. Kathryn watched as the sky turned from bright yellow to a blazing orange. It would be almost 1:30 in the morning by the time they landed in DC. She promised herself that she would not spend the entire time thinking about Charge—all the good times they had, the way he made her feel, how much she loved him. Instead, she focused on the task ahead, operating under the assumption that they would find him once they get there.
But where is “there?” All Pia knew was that it was a building, but that wasn’t very specific. It could be a military base, a hospital, or even a prison. If it’s any one of those things, and Charge is a prisoner, then how will we get him out?
Kathryn thought about all of the practices they had done over the past few months. She knew she could fight, and she had control over her abilities.
I guess I can just teleport in, grab him, and then teleport out again.
She watched as the sky turned purple.
Then we'll go home.

Kathryn leaned back in her seat and tried, again unsuccessfully, to stretch out her legs. Unfortunately, her knees kept hitting the seat in front of her. She resigned herself to be uncomfortable for the next few hours and closed her eyes. Exhausted by the day, she quickly fell asleep despite the roar of the engine.

She was jostled awake by the soft bump as the plane touched down. She sat up and looked out of the window. The sky beyond the well-lit runway was black. She looked over and saw Susan beginning to open her eyes as well. She stretched and smiled apologetically. “I guess I fell asleep.”

“I did, too.” The plane taxied to the gate and they disembarked. Once in the airport, Kathryn and Susan headed to the car rental. Jonathan had reserved a car for them as well as a hotel room near the airport. The location Pia had identified was about 45 miles outside of the city, and Kathryn and Susan had promised Jonathan that they would wait until the next morning to investigate.

“I don't want you going there tired,” Jonathan had warned. “We make mistakes when we’re tired.”

Kathryn had reluctantly agreed to obey his wishes then, but by the time she and Susan checked into the hotel, she was glad she had done so. She was physically and emotionally drained and just wanted a cigarette and a hot shower. She made Susan pull into a gas station, and the cigarette she had in the car took the edge off.