Jackson Ford - Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air

Africa is quicker on the uptake than I am. “Are you from the museum?”

“Yeah, I was a volunteer, why?”

“We’re looking for a boy. We think he came through the museum before the quake. We are trying to talk to anybody who might have seen him.”

“Oh.” The woman gets to her feet, which takes a lot longer than it should. “Um, I mean, we get a lot of visitors, but…”

“But you might have seen him?” I step out from behind Africa, my heart beating a little faster.

“Maybe, yeah. What did he look like?”

I describe the kid. “He was wearing one of your shirts,” I say. And I can see from the way her eyes light up that she knows who I’m talking about. I exchange a quick glance with Africa – finally , a little luck. This may go nowhere, but it’s a start.

“The earthquake boy,” the volunteer says. “Sure, he was here. He came by this morning, before… well, before it all happened.”

“The… earthquake boy?” That cuts a little too close to the bone.

“Yeah, he was really smart, actually. Asked some amazing questions about quakes, and…” She trails off, her bright expression changing to a frown, taking in our sodden uniforms. “Wait a second. Why do you want to find him?”

“It’s a long story. Look, what did you guys talk about? Specifically?”

She bites her lip. “I’m… I’m sorry, I just have to ask… what agency are you guys with? Because those look like TSA uniforms, so I’m…”

“He’s my little brother,” I say.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. He would have been here with our mom. I really want to find him.”

But I’ve said the wrong thing. The woman’s frown deepens. “There’s no way she was your mom. She couldn’t have been much older than you. I’m sorry, but who are you guys? Why are you interested in this kid?” Looking past us now, as if trying to catch the eye of someone more senior. Shit .

“Hey,” I say. “Hold on. Just hold on a second.”

“I don’t think I can help y—”

“OK, look.” I step closer, dropping my voice. “We work for the government. I’m Teagan, this is Africa. What’s your name?”

“Hey, Shonda!” She tries to push past me. “Can I see you for a sec?”

“No! No. Two minutes. Just give us two minutes of your time. If you don’t like what we have to say, we’ll get out of here, and you’ll never see us again.”

She comes to a stop, looking me up and down. Shonda, whoever she is, doesn’t seem to have heard her yet.

“Let’s just go over here.” Slowly, I guide her around the boxes, out of sight of the rest of the tent. “If we do something you don’t like, you can… you can kick me in the ovaries and run.”

It gets her attention. I crouch down, making sure no one else can see us. Behind the woman, Africa hovers, looking nervous.

“What is this about?” she says. Now she sounds really annoyed. Maybe even a little scared.

“What’s your name?”

“Mia Wong.”

“Mia. OK. Hi.” I lick my lips, trying to figure out what to say next.

And then I get an idea.

It’s almost certainly a very bad one. It goes against everything Tanner told me. But right now, this is our only lead. I have to convince this person. Every second that goes by is another second closer to a third quake. To more people getting hurt. Tanner would understand. Definitely. Probably.

Fuck it . Sometimes, you just need to do what your gut tells you.

I dig in my pocket for my phone, checking around me to make sure no one else is watching. We’re good. “I’m going to show you something. You have to promise that no matter what happens, you won’t scream.”

“ Scream? What—?”

“Teggan,” says Africa, suddenly worried. “Maybe this is not clever. Reggie did not—”

“I know, dude. But I don’t think we have a choice right now.” If this woman saw our kid, talked to him, then we need to get her on-side. Fast.

“It’s nothing bad,” I tell Mia. “It’s not going to hurt you, and I swear to God I’m not about to get naked or anything. I just… Please promise me that you’ll keep quiet. At least until I can explain.”

“I don’t get it. Is it on your phone?”

“Mia!”

“All right, Jesus, OK, I promise I won’t scream, now what— Ohshitwhatthehellisthat ?”

That is my phone, currently floating a few inches above my hand. The sticker on the back, the unicorn smoking a joint, catches the gleam from a nearby floodlight.

“I literally just told you not to scream,” I hiss. “Keep it down.”

She sucks in another gulp of air, as if about to really start yelling… then clamps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes haven’t left the floating phone.

I sigh. “You get exactly five seconds to absorb what you’re seeing, and then I’m going to need you to focus, OK?”

In response, Mia whips her hand through the space between my fingers and the phone, as if checking for hidden wires. I roll my eyes, and make the phone circle my head. Then I turn it so the side is facing her, and flick the little silencer switch up and down. She squeaks. She actually squeaks. Her eyes are the size of baseballs.

“Five seconds are up.” I drop the phone, pocketing it.

“How did – you – what is – I don’t—”

“Mia, breathe. Under normal circumstances, we’d spend a long time talking about how it isn’t physically possible and it’s an optical illusion and how exactly I came by this amazing power and blah-de-blah, but I’m going to need you to stay with us, because the fate of the world is at stake.”

“No. No way. Is this a fucking joke? Am I on camera right now?” She looks aghast, like I really am trying to prank her in the aftermath of an earthquake.

“It’s true,” Africa says solemnly.

Mia makes a very strange noise: a kind of whining hiss. Her hand is up to her face again, covering her mouth and nose. “I’m sorry,” she says eventually. “No. I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but I’m gonna go now.”

I have to work very hard not to start yelling. “In your pockets right now, there’s…” I concentrate. “Well, not much, because womens’ pants pockets are always too fucking small, but there’s… OK, a couple of coins, right pocket. Phone jammed into your left.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, but this does.” And I twitch the two coins. Make them clink together.

Mia jumps. Her feet literally leave the ground, her hand flying to her pocket – then snatching it away, like she’s been burned. “What the fuck ?”

“Yes, it is crazy,” Africa says. “When I first see her do it, I think she is David Blaine, yaaw ?”

And still Mia doesn’t believe. I can see it in her eyes.

I look around. “See that?” I point to one of the flower beds. It’s ringed by a line of low metal fencing, the kind where each section is bent into a cute arch.

Mia follows my finger. “So what?” she says, almost like she’s annoyed with me. “You gonna mess with that too?”

“Got it in one.” I make sure nobody else is watching, again, then flip two fence segments out of the dirt. I zip them over, ignoring Mia’s still-somehow-stunned intake of breath. Then I origami them, twisting the metal into a new shape that looks like… well, actually, I don’t know what it looks like. Not as if I could make an origami swan out of it or anything.

When I’m done, I use my PK to toss it to Mia. She steps backwards, nearly falling on her ass. The impromptu sculpture slaps into the mud.

I close my eyes. Jesus, how much more of this am I going to have to—