Jackson Ford - Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air

Ajay had sent them away, too. Away from the School in New Mexico. Matthew had been mad at him for that. If it was anybody else, he wouldn’t have gone. But Ajay said the government was coming.

In Matthew’s imagination, his brain is like a giant library. Only it’s not a regular library. It’s a big, circular one – a huge room with clean, white walls, deep underground and filled with a million books. Matthew imagines himself standing at the centre, and he knows everything. He can reach into any book in the library, in a second. And of course he knows what the government is. He’s read about them.

The government want to take him away. They’re maybe the only people in the whole world who could.

And they have found him. Somehow, some way, they know he caused the quake.

He walks faster, catching up to his mother, grabbing her sleeve. “We gotta go,” he hisses. “We gotta go now.”

“Matthew, what—?”

“Come on!”

They head out across the cracked parking lot. Nearby, a young couple go from bickering with each other to a full-on shouting match, the woman yelling that she should never have come to the stadium. Hastily erected spotlights almost blind them as they move through the crowd. Amber looks back, suppresses a gasp, and Matthew knows she’s seen the man, too.

What if one of the soldiers tries to stop them as they make their way across? But they barely get a second glance. They reach an access road that bisects the parking lot; most of the trees lining it have been ripped from the earth, torn roots visible. The road itself has fared better than others he’s seen. It’s cracked and pitted, but still flat enough for Army vehicles to rumble past. A particularly large one does so as they reach it, a huge truck with wheels the size of a person, slowly trundling across to the western edge of the parking lot.

“Honey.” Amber says. “We’re gonna get to the other side of that truck, OK? We’re gonna walk alongside it.”

He ignores her. “There.” He points, his little voice breathless. “See the other trees?”

On the north side of the parking lot, the tarmac gives way to a hilly, forested park, just visible in the darkness. There’s a fence, but sections of it have been shredded by the quake, along with many of the trees.

Somewhere with dirt.

With his weapons.

“No, honey, listen,” Amber says. “We don’t have to do that. If we double back—”

He doesn’t even look at her. Just takes off running, heading for the tree line.

There are fewer cars in this part of the parking lot, fewer people. Matthew looks back. The man he saw before, the one with the broken arm, has just made it across the road that bisects the parking lot. Matthew spots two more figures behind him: two women, a short one and a tall one, both in the same dark uniforms. They’re trying to cross, waiting for a small convoy of trucks to pass, yelling something at the man with the broken arm. He ignores their shouts, barrelling across the lot towards Matthew and Amber.

Finally , they reach the park. It’s more an undeveloped section of the stadium property: hard-packed, hilly earth, with scraggly trees and shrubs, made even messier by the quake. Matthew starts sprinting, wanting to get in as deep as he can. Branches scratch at his arms, whipping back into Amber’s body as he pushes past them. Everything is wet from the steady rain, and he can hardly see three yards in front of him.

Amber’s voice is harsh, ragged. “Honey, please… let’s just… go back, OK? We can…”

And then a voice: “Hey, woah. Stop.”

The man with the broken arm has reached them, a silhouette against the lights from the stadium. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Leave us alone!” There’s fear in Amber’s voice… and Matthew doesn’t think it’s because of what the government man might do. In the darkness, a small smile slides across his face.

“I know about your powers,” the man says. “You made the earthquakes happen, It’s… it’s OK. You probably didn’t even mean to do it. My name’s Paul – Paul Marino. I work with—”

“Paul?” comes a voice from beyond the trees. One of the women in the dark uniforms.

“Over here,” the man called Paul replies. He turns back to Matthew. “But you don’t have to be scared any more. I work with people who can help you – they can teach you to control it. We’re… we’re the good guys, I promise.”

Amber steps in front of Matthew, as if trying to shield him. “Go away,” she says.

He doesn’t even understand why she’s giving the government man a warning. The earth underneath him begins to tremble.

“You don’t understand,” Amber says. “You need to leave. Right now.”

“I’ve got a boy about his age,” Paul Marino says, speaking to Amber now. “His name’s…” His voice catches. “His name’s Cole. He doesn’t have powers… abilities… but it sounds like your son could use a friend.”

He holds out a hand, like he’s trying to shake. “I didn’t mean to chase you – I wish I could have just walked up and said hello. But you don’t need to worry – nobody’s going to hurt you. The government can—”

What happens next happens very fast.

The two women emerge from the treeline – one tall and willowy, the other short, with spiky black hair. Matthew raises his chin, feeling the earth around him respond. Every grain of dirt, every rock, every chunk of soil, held tight in his mind’s eye.

The ground around the man explodes upwards: a huge, circular wave of it, crashing down on top of him.

One of the women screams, sprinting forward. The man’s hand appears through a gap in the raging, roaring earth – stretching for the sky, like he’s appealing for help. Then it’s gone, the wave crashing in on him, forcing him into the ground, burying him in a surge of black earth.

Then the air is filled with screams and drifting dirt, and Matthew takes Amber’s hand again, pulling her down the hill, away from everything.

Annie is on her knees in the mud. She scratches at it, throwing up huge clumps. One of her nails has broken. Snapped back, drenching her finger with blood, rivulets of wet dirt spattering her arms. She’s making this awful sound – a choked, almost strangled moan.

I can’t look away from it. I’m frozen to the spot, mouth open, trying to process what the fuck I just saw.

“Teagan,” Annie says, her voice little more than a gasp. “Help him.”

A hundred yards away, the kid and his mom – at least, I think it’s his mom – vanish into another clutch of trees. He looks back at us just before he disappears. I can’t see his expression from here, but I don’t have to. I know the same one as before: a weird grin. An insane, twisted little smile. The same one he had when he… when Paul…

“ Teagan! Fucking help him! ”

I snap out of it, sprint over, skidding to my knees next to her.

“Get him out of there,” she rasps. “Get him out. Get him out! ”

I send my PK deep into the earth. Paul is there – seven or eight feet down, well within my range. It’s just like back on Schmidt’s plane: I can’t feel him, but I can feel the objects he has on him. Keys, belt buckle, the metal parts of his arm sling. His wedding band, on a chain around his neck.

But it’s like trying to lift a block of concrete using just the tips of my fingers. He won’t come. The sheer weight of the dirt holds him in place. And the objects… they’re moving, vibrating back and forth.

He’s still alive down there.

Twisting against the dirt.

Annie hasn’t stopped digging. The earth is packed down tight. Blood leaks onto the soil from her broken nail. “What’s wrong?” she snarls.