Jackson Ford - Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air

“I’m sorry, Lucas, but you have to.”

“I don’t care if the government know about us. I’m not leaving.”

It was very rare for Amber to take strength from her son, but this time, she did. She’d stepped behind him, putting down the small duffel bag she’d been shoving their clothes into, wrapped an arm around him. “He’s right. We’ll talk to them, work something out.”

His eyes, when they found hers, were pleading. “They’re going to separate you.”

The ice water trickling down her spine had become a flood. “You can’t know that.”

Another humourless laugh. “They will. I know how these people work.”

“I won’t let them,” her son had said. “I’ll… I’ll stop them.”

Ajay had reached out for him. “If you try, they’ll just hurt you back. Maybe even kill you.”

“I’ll kill them!”

“And that’ll make it worse for you later.” He’d always been like this with Matthew: cool, unemotional, never afraid to tell him the truth. It was the only thing Matthew seemed to respond to, and it was the one thing Amber never seemed able to pull off. How was she going to manage her son without Ajay? Without the School? How could he expect her to just… leave ?

“There’s no other way,” Ajay had said. “I’m sorry, but you have to go. Tonight.” He turned back to the boy. “And listen: you can’t use your powers in front of anyone. It’s just like we talked about. You have to keep you and your mom safe.”

Her son had stared at him for the longest time, chewing on his lip. Then he’d nodded, as if the decision had been his to make all along. “Amber,” he said, looking up at her. “Are we done packing?”

Already using her new name.

The world had seemed to tilt sideways, the ground sliding away from her. It wasn’t that the idea of going off-grid scared her – she’d spent years in New Mexico with no bank account, social security, any kind of record. But the sheer speed at which it had all happened. Just like that, they were having to leave the only safe place she’d ever known.

But right now, what the fuck does any of that matter? She’s here, and she is going to get control of this. She is going to find her child, her son .

And as if the thought summoned him, she spots Matthew. He’s walking out of the trees at the bottom of the slope, stepping lightly over a metal barrier onto the cracked tarmac. Amber can’t see his face, but his white T-shirt is clearly visible. It’s grimy and soaking by now, but still bright enough to spot in the darkness. Slowly, she gets to her feet, limping down the hill towards him.

She loses track of him within a few seconds, the white shirt vanishing as Matthew heads further onto the road. She quickens her pace, realising dimly that she twisted her ankle in the fall. It’s not broken – at least, she doesn’t think it is – but putting weight on it forces air out from between her teeth, like steam escaping a pipe.

Somehow, she makes it to the barrier, levers herself over. The road surface, like that of the stadium parking lot, has been damaged by the quake. It’s not as bad here, though, with yards of unbroken surface – a quirk of geography protecting it, perhaps. Matthew is heading down the road, his back to her, and just beyond him—

Amber blinks. There’s a helicopter parked on the street, side-on, its rotor blades still and silent. A logo emblazoned on the side: KTLA, big red letters against a white background.

The chopper pilot sits in the open cockpit door, baseball cap turned back, head bent over his phone. To his right, a woman paces, talking on her own cell. She wears a soaked green windbreaker over a flannel shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looks up as Matthew approaches, frowning slightly.

There’s no one else around. Amber limps towards the chopper, not sure what she plans to say, or if she even needs to say anything. Her only thought is to get Matthew away from them, before he does something…

“Can we use your chopper?” Matthew is saying to the woman when Amber arrives. The pilot looks up, puzzled annoyance crossing his face. Both he and the woman look exhausted, soaked from the rain.

The woman has her phone pressed to her right shoulder. “Um… are you lost? Where’re your mom and dad?”

At that moment, she looks up and spots Amber. “Is this your mom? Sorry, we’ve got no water left – you aren’t the first folks to come and ask. They’ll let you into the stadium though – it’s just up there.”

“We need to go north,” Matthew says, as if the woman hadn’t spoken.

“Hi, yes, sorry.” Amber puts a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”

The pilot is watching them, wary, as if he expects them to try steal his chopper. There’s another man, Amber sees, in the helicopter’s main cabin. He’s holding a professional camera, watching footage on a pop-out screen. “Nice shirt, kid,” he says with a smirk, gesturing at Matthew’s billowing Earthquake Exhibit T-shirt.

“Yeah, OK, excuse me.” The woman puts the phone back to her ear, turns away. “Sorry, I’m here. Yes, we already tried that. It’s like I said…”

“Matthew.” Amber goes down on one knee, wincing as her ankle takes a little weight. “Let’s go, OK?”

“Why? We need to head north, and they’ve got a helicopter.”

“I know but—”

“We can’t use cars,” he says, sounding almost bored. “And we can’t walk. So we need them to take us.” He raises his voice, addressing the woman with the phone. “You gotta get us out of the city.”

She doesn’t even look at him. The pilot has gone back to his phone.

“Hey,” Amber says, desperate to calm her son down. “Let’s just…”

Just what? Find another helicopter?

Matthew raises his voice. “I’ll make you fly us. I’ll make you take us out of here.”

“Honey, please, listen to me. I know we can’t go back to the stadium, but we can’t just…”

But it’s already happening. What will he do this time? Swallow the entire helicopter? No, he’ll just kill the reporter and her cameraman, maybe the pilot too…

Amber looks from the logo on the helicopter, to the camera, to the woman talking on her phone. And just like that, she knows what the angle is.

Doesn’t matter if it’s a nervous driver in Albuquerque, or a reporter in the aftermath of a Los Angeles earthquake. A con is a con.

And if there’s one thing Amber knows how to do, it’s run a con.

“We were in the stadium,” she says. The woman flicks an annoyed glance at her, but doesn’t respond. Amber almost gives into panic – she’d been banking on the reporter wanting to interview them, get some comment on the conditions inside. But her mind works the angles for her, gets her to where she needs to go.

“They kicked us out,” she says loudly. “Told us we had to go somewhere else.”

“Jim, give me a second.” The woman puts the phone to her shoulder again, focusing on Amber. “What do you mean they kicked you out?”

“Yeah, we were there,” Matthew replies, before Amber can. Jesus, he’s quick . “They said we had to leave, because they were going to run out of food and stuff. And water.”

“They’re…” Amber looks over her shoulder, as if she’s worried soldiers are going to appear out of the rain. It’s easy. Like muscle memory, all the old tricks ready and waiting for her. “They shot a guy. I saw it happen, he… he was trying to get a drink of water, and they…”

The reporter pops the phone to her ear, gaze darting between Matthew and Amber. “Jim, I’ll call you back.”

Her smile is dazzling, teeth achingly white. “Molly Zuckerman.” She shakes Amber’s hand, holding on just a little too long. “I’m with KTLA news. You saw this happen? You saw someone get shot?”