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Aurora spins around, eyes wide and full of a newfound rage. “You,” she hisses. My outstretched arms are now just inches from her face. Instead of slamming into her, I recoil. I’m frozen. So close. Close enough to touch her. Close enough to kill her.
But I can’t move. As long as that thing is in her hand, I can’t touch her.
Aurora’s silver hair turns to frizz. Power zaps the air. “Get her.”
Her goonies advance toward me, one of them flexing his massive hotdog fingers as a sick grin twists across his scarred face. I’ll fight him. I’ll fight both of them. And then I’ll kill her.
The first guy dives toward me, swinging a dagger in his fat fist. I catch his wrist seconds before the blade slices into my skin and heave it back. He grunts in pain as his wrist cracks and the dagger buries into his gut. I kick him out of the way and he rolls along the ground like a bloody sack of potatoes.
Aurora curses as the second guy approaches me. I focus on every muscle in his body, watching, waiting for him to make a move.
And then I notice his secret weapon.
A silver circle in his palms.
A dozen things float through my mind at once: I can take him; I can fight all three of them. It’ll be hard but I can do it. No, I can’t. She has that … thing. Where is Jake? Where is my dad? Pepper. No, don’t think about Pepper. Dad. Where’s Dad? What the hell am I supposed to do?
My back presses into something cold. The KAPOW. I hadn’t realized I’d been walking backward as they stalked toward me. My heartbeat reaches a speed I hadn’t thought possible. If Jake is any kind of good Retriever, he would have saved me by now. Created a distraction. This is not the Hero life I had imagined.
Behind my back, my fingers grab onto the open door of the KAPOW pod. My first thought is to rip it off the hinges and use it as a shield while I run for safety. My second thought is the better one.
With Hero-like speed, I dive into the pod and slam the door closed, narrowly missing the guy’s fingers as he tries to stop me. Activated by my touch, the pod door locks, protecting me—for now.
“Destination?” the computer voice asks.
“Home,” I say on instinct, as the bio-screen reads my DNA through touch. The pod blasts off, leaving the scene of Pepper’s murder in a surreal blur. I collapse into the seat, a public transportation hard plastic pit of germs that isn’t soft or comforting like our personal pod.
Red light pours through the tiny pod window, a constant reminder that the entire Super race is in lockdown. The warning lights of something bad—something that isn’t a drill. It dawns on me as I let my head fall harshly against the wall.
I can’t go home. That’s the first place they’ll look.
“Change destination.” My body pushes forward at the abrupt drop in speed.
“Destination?” The voice is innocent. Preprogrammed and unaware of the dangers before us. It can’t give me advice or comfort me or suggest a safe place for me to go. Frankly, I’m surprised the KAPOW even works in a state of lockdown.
“Destination?” it repeats.
“Um.” I can’t think over the thumping of my heart. I need a safe place. Somewhere far away. A face flashes in my mind—shoulder-length hair, tall, broad shoulders. I take a deep breath. I guess it is the safest place in the world.
“Destination Evan Letta.”
It’s still daylight in South Africa. My legs are jelly as I step out of the KAPOW, my arms lifeless appendages at my sides. Though my body moves, steps, and breathes, it does not feel like a real body. I am dejected—so thoroughly broken, straight to the core. Pepper is dead. The Supers are in lockdown. Some crazy bitch wants me.
I’m still not a Hero. But that doesn’t seem so earth-shattering anymore.
I trudge through warm sand on the shore of Nacameto Island, the hidden research facility in the Mozambique Channel off the coast of Africa where Evan lives and works. There are no loud flashing sirens here, just a beautiful beach, rocks, trees, and birds flying carefree from branch to branch. Oh, to be a bird and have no worries other than— Which way is south?—every time winter rolls around. I resist the urge to step into the ocean and drown myself.
The only building on the tiny island could be mistaken for a mirage to some seasick, stranded fisherman. The research building is not quite as tall as a Manhattan skyscraper, but it looks massive on the island. Instead of sharp angles, the building is smooth all around, forming a cylinder that stretches toward the sky. The only windows are at the very top, stretched in a thin line around the top floor.
I approach the front of the building looking for a door or a MOD screen to introduce myself. There are no signs guiding me and if it weren’t for the KAPOW’s unfailing
coordinate-locating system, I’d think I was lost.
I peer at the smooth matte wall that stretches in both directions. There is no friggin door. Another glance behind me shows only the tunnel I came here in, rising from the ocean onto a concrete platform at the edge of the sand and the KAPOW pod, all dinged up and missing paint on the sides.
A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it down. Maybe there is no door because the research facility, like all of Central, is in lockdown. Maybe it closes up like this in emergencies. Maybe I am the only Super in the entire world who isn’t following instructions and remaining safely locked indoors right now.
I suck in a deep breath of salty air and let it out in a defeated sigh. My head falls back as I stare at the blinding sun in the heavens. I’m not asking for the world to be handed to me on a silver platter here, but if something—anything—could just go right for once. It’d be a damn miracle.
