Carrie Vaughn - After the Golden Age

“Don’t worry. They’re taking good care of me. Look at all the flowers.” She pointed at the wall, a distraction tactic.

“Wow, look at them all.” Suzanne acknowledged Mark then, when she was looking right at him. “Hello, Detective Paulson.”

“Hello, Mrs. West. Mr. West.”

At six-foot-five, Warren loomed over the bed. He nodded formally.

Mark found a couple more chairs. Warren remained standing.

Suzanne said, “You’ve probably told the story a thousand times already. But what happened?”

Celia had worked out a short version by now. “We were just talking about it,” she said, snuggling deeper into the pillow. “It sounds like the driver just snapped. He missed a stop, and when someone argued he pulled out a gun and started shooting. It was clear pretty quick that he planned on driving straight into the river. Someone had to stop him. It probably could have been done cleaner, or better—” If she’d been a superhuman vigilante hero, for example. “—but there wasn’t much time.”

Beaming, eyes shining, Suzanne looked over her shoulder at Warren as if to say, Look what she did, isn’t it wonderful?

Shaking his head, Warren said, “It’s too simple. There has to be more to it.”

“Investigators say no,” Mark said.

“Somebody put you in danger to get to us. That’s the way it always is,” her father said.

Warren’s paranoia had been carefully cultivated over a lifetime. Coincidence didn’t exist in his world.

“You know, Dad, not everything is about you.”

“And you think you just happened to be on the one bus that gets hijacked?”

“Stranger things have happened,” she muttered.

A knock came on the door frame. Another visitor peered in—a young woman, a purple headband tying back her cornrows. Analise, carrying another bouquet. She must have decided Celia wasn’t so bad, too. If she’d only known that all she had to do was stop a runaway bus …

“I’m sorry,” Analise said. “I can come back later—”

“No, Analise, come in. It’s okay. Please,” Celia urged her; she wasn’t letting her friend get away. Cautiously, Analise stepped into the room, eyeing the Wests.

This was going to get surreal.

Celia made introductions. “Analise, these are my parents, Suzanne and Warren. Mom, Dad, this is my friend, Analise. And this is Mark Paulson.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Analise kept far enough back that she wasn’t obliged to shake hands with anyone. Her gaze rested on Celia. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. When I saw the news and all…”

“I’m fine,” Celia said. They couldn’t talk now about what they really needed to talk about, not with the others here. So, without a word, Celia accepted the truce that had been offered.

Suzanne was studying her. “Have we met before?”

“We went to school together,” Celia said quickly, before Analise had to start making excuses. “You might have met at graduation.”

“Ah.” Suzanne accepted the explanation, and Celia breathed a sigh. Analise was too composed to react at all, except with an earnest smile.

“Hey, looks like we found the party.” Robbie Denton entered, waving at them after knocking on the doorway. Arthur Mentis was with him. The place really was getting crowded.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Arthur just yet.

The telepath said, “If you’d rather I come back later—”

“No, it’s okay, come in. Unless you brought flowers, because I don’t think there’s any more room for flowers.”

“No. I brought your attaché. The police released it from evidence.” Arthur lifted her case, and Celia sighed with relief. She didn’t want to have to reconstruct all that information. Hell, she didn’t know anymore what she was going to do with all that information. Her perspective on various recent events seemed to have shifted.

“Thanks,” she said.

Robbie stood by Analise. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Robbie. This is Arthur.”

“I’m Analise. Celia’s friend.” Analise looked stricken; she seemed to have realized she was stuck in a room with the entire Olympiad. And Dr. Mentis the telepath had caught her gaze. He studied her a little too closely.

Celia said, rather brightly, “Thanks for coming, all of you. It’s really nice of you.”

“Of course we’d come visit,” Suzanne said. “Did you think we’d just abandon you?”

Mark and Analise both looked away at that one.

A cell phone twittered. Mark and Warren checked their belts. Mark won. He answered his phone with his name and went out into the hallway.

Warren glared after him. “The cops are useless. They can’t handle a criminal conspiracy like this.”

Celia said, “I’d appreciate it if you not talk about what the cops can’t handle around Mark.”

“Can’t he take a little criticism?”

“It’s not criticizing, it’s insulting; as bad as that speech the mayor gave.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut just as soon as the mayor does.”

He was a child. A big, spoiled child. What must Analise think of the great Captain Olympus bickering like this? Maybe she’d be a little more understanding when Celia griped about her family the way other people griped about theirs. “Dad—,” she said, the same time Suzanne said, “Warren—”

Analise looked uncomfortable, inching toward the door like she wanted to leave. “Celia, maybe we can get together for coffee when you’re back on your feet.”

She didn’t get away before Mark came back in, phone still in hand, his mouth pulled into a frown.

“They found a pony bottle—an independent air supply for scuba divers—under the front seat on the bus. The driver wasn’t supposed to die.”

Mentis said, “So it wasn’t the work of a random psychotic. It was an assassination.”

They all, every last one of them, five of them superhuman, looked at Celia. Her head throbbed viciously. She wondered if the nurse would give her another dose of painkillers.

“There’s more,” Mark said, his voice growing even more somber, if possible, and Celia wondered what could be worse. “He was granted a pardon for a felony conviction several years ago. Just like the others.”

After Mark’s announcement, Analise made a hasty exit, offering apologies and the excuse that she didn’t want to interrupt. Arthur stared after her. He knew about her, Celia didn’t doubt. She wondered if she should say something. She hoped Analise wasn’t cooking up some heroic adventure based on the fragment of information she’d heard. Mark, a grim set to his face, muttered something about needing to be back at the station and followed after her. Then visiting hours ended, and the Olympiad filed out.

Celia felt like she hadn’t gotten to really visit with anyone.

The entire hospital fell quiet after visiting hours. The night shift of nurses and orderlies came on. Celia got another dose of muscle relaxant and painkillers. They wanted her to sleep, now that the initial danger from the concussion was over. Once the lights were off, she was more than willing to do so.

She had to struggle to rouse herself and focus on a figure standing in the doorway. Not a nurse. He was wearing a business suit, and leaned on the doorjamb, like all he wanted to do was watch her. Mentis? Had Arthur come back to check on her?

No, it didn’t feel like Arthur, which was an odd thing to think. He was the telepath, not her. She shouldn’t have felt anything. When this man stepped toward her, his movements were menacing. He saw her stir, and moved out of the glare of the hallway’s light into the darkness of the room.

“Aren’t visiting hours over?” she said. Her voice sounded creaky. She tried to wake up.