Jackson Ford - Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air

I reach out with my PK, trying to pick up something that isn’t made of wood – and find the metal sheets. The roofing material, leaning up against the wall of the camp building. I grab one, send it whirling into the storm, put it right in front of me.

Just in time – the second wave hits it so hard that the impact nearly knocks me over. I have to use every ounce of PK energy to keep my little shield in place. More dirt tentacles shoot past, ripping into the wooden walls of the building.

“Wait!” I yell. I may as well be shouting at a thunderstorm. I can’t see the kid, can’t see anything.

I need a bigger shield. I grab more of the metal roofing, scythe it through the flying dirt, holding it up in front of me. From the sound of it, he’s switched from attacking the building with the tentacles to attacking the metal. It bangs and crashes together, like the world’s most fucked-up set of cymbals.

I start to walk, pushing forward against the hurricane. Five feet. Ten. I’m at the steps, now – the ones leading down from the porch. As I descend, I move the metal sheets a little, so there’s a tiny gap – like a viewing port in a tank. Dirt surges through, the particles forcing their way into my mouth and nose.

But I can see the boy. I can see him!

He’s still looking right at me. And now, there’s another expression on his face. The anger is there, but so is curiosity. The dirt assault slows. Just a little.

The idea comes out of nowhere, the next stage in my shitty excuse for a plan. I take a deep breath, close my mouth and eyes, and use my PK to spring my shield apart. I send the metal sheets rocketing towards the kid, slice them through the barrage.

I bring the first ones down behind him, slamming them vertically into the dirt, so they stick straight up. I sprint forward, skidding to my knees in front of him. If he’s still angry, if I’ve misjudged his curiosity, then I am fucking dead. There’s no question. He’ll jam one of those tentacles down my throat.

It doesn’t happen. I seize my chance, slamming more of the sheets into the dirt. There are just enough to form a circle around us, a shield of metal, six feet high. It’s definitely not a perfect circle, and there are plenty of small gaps, but it’ll have to do.

“Woah woah woah !” I hold my hands out. “Stop, OK? Just stop.”

Burr’s team are back on their feet. I know this because I’m sensing a lot of guns being pulled from holsters, Okoro’s rifle moving as someone – Garcia maybe – pulls it back into position. Which means that any second now, a hailstorm of gunfire is going to break up our little party. They won’t give a shit that I’m in the way, and I don’t know if my half-assed circle of roofing material is going to stop them.

I grab the guns out of the hands of whoever is holding them, wrenching them away. “No!” I shout, not knowing if they can hear me. “Just give me a second. I can fix this.”

Tell that to Okoro .

I take the thought, bury it good and deep.

We’re in a huge crater where the middle of the parking lot used to be. The dirt we’re on is all freshly churned-up soil, dark and damp. Rocks that probably haven’t seen the sky in decades lie scattered everywhere.

The first sniper team is still out there, maybe with a scope trained on us right now. I send my PK out as far as it’ll go, but I can’t pick any inorganic objects in the forest. They’re out of my range. I have to hope they still don’t have a shot. They might be moving to a better position. Which means there isn’t long. Maybe no more than a few minutes.

Beyond the wall of metal, there’s a panicked voice: female, high-pitched, terrified. “Matthew? Honey? Please don’t hurt her! Please—”

“Be cool!” I shout – and yes, I am aware of exactly how dumb it sounds, thanks.

I’ve pinned the guns inside the building to the ceiling. Someone is trying to tug one of them down. I resist, locking it in place with my mind. “I just wanna talk to him.”

“Who the hell are you?” the mom shouts. She’s visible past the gaps in the metal wall, trying to push her way through. The car behind her – or the little bits of it I can see, anyway – looks like it just came out of a NASCAR crash.

I ignore her, and turn to face the boy.

He’s still pissed off, but curiosity has gotten the better of him. He’s staring at me, head cocked.

There’s the sound of running feet. My PK picks up a sidearm – one I must have missed – along with zippers and a belt buckle and a metal lighter, all of them moving towards us.

“Frost, stand down!” Burr yells.

I take his gun away, ripping it out of his hands and hurling it into the forest. “Just. Give me. A second!”

“ Frost! ”

“You have powers too,” the boy says.

I nod, ignoring the fact that Burr is circling the metal, looking for a wide-enough entrance. There’s a scuffling sound, the mom crying out. I ignore that too. “I do.”

“You’re like me.”

“Guess you could say that.” I start to get off my knees, then stop. Right now, I’m on his level. I don’t want to loom over him. I want us to talk, face to face.

My hammering heart fills my ears. This is only the second person with abilities I’ve spoken to since they took me out of Wyoming. The first was insane; he attacked me, and I had to kill him to defend myself. Not this time. I’m not going to let it happen. Step one: talk him down. Step two: find out where he came from. How he got his ability.

“I don’t remember you from the School,” he says. He’s wearing little thick-laced sneakers, scuffing the dirt with his right toe.

“What school was that?” I ask.

“The one in New Mexico. There were other people with powers there, but I didn’t see you.”

Other people with powers .

I knew it.

I fucking knew it.

Someone figured out my parents’ research. I don’t know who – Tanner, someone else in government, an independent operator – but they did it. And if there are others like Matthew…

When you’re little, you think the world revolves around you.

If you have abilities, if you’re the centre of an enormous hurricane of people and demands and danger, that feels more true than ever. Why wouldn’t it? You’re special in a way that others can only dream of. Even if I spent my days dreaming about not being special, about cooking and owning my restaurant and living a vaguely normal life, I still acted like the rules didn’t apply to me.

Jake was one thing. My parents made him same as they made me, even if they didn’t realise they’d gotten it right. This boy… He’s proof that there’s a whole lot more.

First things first. Stop him from destroying the world. Stop anyone else from getting hurt, including him. We can figure out the details later.

“I know about Cascadia,” I say.

He nods, like this isn’t surprising. “You should let me go,” he says, raising his eyes to the treeline.

Burr is still trying to restrain Amber. They’re struggling, just beyond the metal circle. I do a quick check with my PK; still no guns in play, and I can’t feel any from Grayson and De Robillard. Keep him talking .

“It’s Matthew, right?” I force a smile onto my face. “I’m Teagan. It’s nice to meet you.”

He turns to look at me again. His gaze makes me feel like a zoo animal. Like he’s studying me. Mia was right: this kid is smart. Much smarter than I was at his age. Much smarter than anybody was.

“Listen.” I lick my lips, tasting dirt. “I know your ability can be scary. I know what it’s like.”

“It’s not scary,” he says. “It’s fun.”

“Fun… is a word for it,” I say, trying not to let my voice betray me. “But it’s also dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing. The quake in LA—”