At the Academy, they taught the adage: When in doubt, move. It was, after all, harder for the Screamers to hit a moving target. But not in the case of this particular bridge.
He leaned forward in anticipation. The route Pansy chose would reveal how deep her Sight ran, and his money was on it running deep, indeed. Before she could choose, or, more accurately, before he could watch her choose, his umbrella went into high alert. It shook hard against his spine, the vibrations spreading all the way to his fingertips. The back of his neck prickled, the sensation that also never lied.
Henry pulled his gaze from the laptop’s screen and confronted a mass of Screamers, the likes of which he hadn’t seen since the Sahara.
Chapter 14
Pansy
King’s End, Minnesota
Sunday, July 9
The housing development is in an all-out Screamer onslaught. It hasn’t been this bad since I returned after my last summer at the Academy.
And there, standing in the glow of the setting sun and the fractured light of dozens of Screamers, is Agent Darnelle. That black behemoth of an umbrella is unfurled. Together, they’re fighting off the attack.
I drop the goggles and run, my umbrella urging me forward. Her whole being is focused on Agent Darnelle’s umbrella, and she will not stand for the Screamers of King’s End assaulting it.
For that matter, neither will I.
Divide and conquer, divide and conquer. The chant fills my mind. Whether it’s the Sight or my umbrella or something I intuitively know about King’s End, it’s the tack I decide to take.
I collapse my umbrella to a single, deadly point and aim her at the center of the mass currently attacking Agent Darnelle. I sprint and then leap forward, the point of my umbrella skewering that mass, slicing it in half. A screech pierces the air, my eardrums. I unfurl my umbrella and hunker down in the aftermath. Colors swirl. Obsidian shatters into emerald and ruby and sapphire, an explosion that dazzles my eyes and peppers my skin.
The Screamers swirl, doubling back, but I’m ready for the counterattack. I send a pulse skyward. For a moment, the air clears. I can pull in a full breath. And in that quiet moment, an outstretched hand reaches for my own.
I take it, and Agent Darnelle lifts me to my feet as if I weigh no more than my umbrella. We slip into a defensive posture—back to back—like this is routine, like we’ve fought together a hundred times before. Without prompting, our umbrellas link. Together, they project a protective bubble around us. It can’t keep out the Screamers forever, but it certainly helps.
I brace against Agent Darnelle, his shoulders solid and sturdy. The heat of his skin penetrates his shirt and my own. So hot, it’s like the man is on fire. He passes his umbrella from hand to hand, directing each Screamer pass toward me. I whittle their numbers.
This part is a long grind, a war of attrition, if you will. The mass thins, eventually. Honestly, sometimes I think the Screamers simply get bored or feel they’ve made their point, whatever that may be. Tonight, though, they seem intent on Agent Darnelle.
“We’re almost there,” he says. “If you can find the source, I can cover you.”
“Yes. Hang on.”
I search for a likely source, all the while noting how the sun is sinking lower and lower in the sky. No, starting my exam this close to sunset was not the best idea, and worry gnaws at the back of my mind.
The source. The source. I cast my thoughts outward, forward, and back. Tiny forays—mere seconds. I want to catch a premonition, like with that couple on the Rose Walk yesterday, not trigger a full-on attack of the Sight.
Something suggests the showcase home near the entrance. I say something, but really, it must be the Sight. Never mind that the fissure wasn’t there this morning; it most certainly is now. A few drops of blood splatter on my T-shirt, but since I know where the fissure is, I can lock down the Sight.
“Ready?” I ask both Agent Darnelle and my umbrella, although she’s already tugging me forward.
“Go!” His voice alone could chase off Screamers. There’s a fierce expertise to it, to his movements, and yes, a few Screamers break from the mass and scatter.
I race toward the showcase home. A handful of Screamers give chase, and they unerringly find the small of my back, that wound from earlier. I stumble, but my umbrella unfurls, and the action halts my momentum before I can crash to the ground.
I round the house. There, in the rear, near that egress window, is the source. I always wonder whether, during the excavation, the construction company somehow created another fissure. Or worse, built the house on top of one, making part of it inaccessible for repair.
I tuck the pole of my umbrella between my shoulder and ear so the canopy protects my back. Then, with the same movements used in the exam, I weave reality back into place. A few Screamers decide to bullet through before I can close off this route completely. Even so, that blank expanse shrinks faster than the virtual one did.
Leave it to the Enclave to make everything harder.
Fissure repaired, I brush off my hands, shake out my umbrella, and stand. By the time I find Agent Darnelle, he is dispatching the final Screamers.
I say dispatching. What he’s doing is having fun—at their expense. He’s closed his umbrella and is now jousting with them. He spins, lunges, thrusts, and parries. It doesn’t matter what they throw at him. Their numbers diminish with every pass they take.
