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Heavy-duty plastic
If she spread her purchases around, they shouldn’t attract too much attention from the government. The government was rather busy at that moment with various major disasters, after all.
The final item on her list was more concerning. There were not that many innocent places to obtain hydrofluoric acid. There were easier acids to find, but the beauty of hydrofluoric acid was that it did not eat plastic or most metals.
It did, however, dissolve flesh.
Drake would come for her soon; Astrid was convinced of it. Ever since she had learned that Drake was still alive—if you could call it life—she’d thought about how to prepare, how to defeat the unkillable, tentacle-armed sadist.
She now had a heavy steel box. She would soon have chains and locks. And a chain saw. And heavy plastic. And acid.
All of which was good, but nowhere near enough.
Astrid was studious by nature and had gleaned everything she could from a brief earlier meeting with an old ally, Dekka, as well as from news accounts. She had a fairly clear idea how these new and even more dangerous mutations worked, how it manifested—the physical transformations that accompanied the acquisition of powers. The FAYZ dome, she hypothesized, had acted in lieu of physical morphs, protecting what was inside from the laws of physics outside. She suspected the physical transformations that were now part of the development of superpowers did something similar—exempting the mutant from the ordinary laws of physics.
Or not. It was just a theory.
But her research could not tell her what would happen to her. If there was rhyme or reason to the effects of the rock, she had not discovered it.
She retrieved from its hiding place the FedEx envelope Dekka had sent her. The baggie holding two ounces of powdered rock was still inside.
Astrid had never developed a power in the FAYZ. At one point she’d thought she had, but no, she had remained merely herself. She’d never regretted that fact; she had never wanted any power beyond her own native intelligence and whatever courage she could summon. The idea of seeking such a power now was deeply unsettling. Astrid was happy being Astrid. She had never wanted physical power.
But that was then, and this was now, and she no longer had Sam’s power to protect her. Her husband, brave, resourceful, determined Sam, was a mere human now, and no kind of match for Drake. Whatever Drake did to her, he would do it where Sam would be forced to watch. It would break Sam. The unbreakable boy was now a vulnerable man.
Dekka had addressed the package to Astrid, not to Sam. But she had included two doses, despite the fact that Astrid and Dekka shared a fervent desire to keep Sam out of this new fight. Sam had done enough. Sam had suffered enough. And Sam now had his PTSD-driven substance abuse under control, sober for many months. The two women who loved him in different ways both wanted to protect him.
But Dekka had seen the dark possibilities and had been the one to give them the news about Drake. So she had sent some of the rock to Astrid, knowing that no natural power could stop Whip Hand.
And more than enough. Just in case.
Not for the first time, Astrid considered recruiting an ally. Edilio? Quinn? But Quinn was weak, and Edilio was in Honduras, deported by immigration despite testimonials from virtually every living FAYZ survivor, an injustice that still burned inside Astrid. At least Albert had helped him out with money so Edilio wouldn’t be destitute.
Albert.
There was an ally she could use. She pulled out her cell phone, scrolled through contacts, and dialed Albert’s personal line.
“Astrid?” Albert answered, recognizing the number.
“Listen, Albert, I hate to do this.”
“What do you need?”
“Drake is alive.”
The silence on Albert’s end lasted for a while. Then a long, low stream of curses.
“I think he may come after us.”
“What do you need?” Albert asked again.
“I need to buy something. It’s something that may set off whoever is still monitoring us. It’s a big ask, Albert. And I would need you not to ask questions. So if—”
Albert cut her off. “Anything you want, any amount of money, anytime, Astrid.”
Astrid felt her eyes filling with tears. In the FAYZ Albert had never been liked, let alone loved. But his tough-love business sense had kept people fed, and without him many more would have died. Still, she had not expected unquestioning support. Albert was not exactly known for throwing money away, one reason he’d done so well after the FAYZ, making deals with McDonald’s and other companies to exploit his fame.
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