Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) (6 page)

“Floor it!” Lane yelled, falling back into the car, clutching Samantha.  Al, in the driver’s seat, threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot.  The force of the acceleration shut the still-open car door, and Sam would have been thrown to the ground if not for the steadying grip around her middle. 

“You ok?” Lane asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and his were around her waist.  She lay on top of him, none too gracefully sprawled in the back seat.  For a second, Sam wanted to stay there.  To sink down against his chest and just close her eyes.

Then she remembered where she was.  Who she was.  With a tight smile, she pushed herself up.  Lane grunted at the impact of her hands on his diaphragm and stomach and her knee in his thigh as she righted herself in the back of the car.  Sam reached for a seatbelt, plugging it in with a definitive click to emphasize their separation: “I’m fine.” 

Pulling himself upright and fastening his own seatbelt, Lane gave her an inscrutable look.  Sam ignored him, craning around and trying to catch a glimpse out of the back window.  The diner was already out of sight, though, and Al was pulling the car onto the freeway.  Sirens wailing, several police cars passed them, heading in the opposite direction.  Too late to do any good, even if they could. 

“Don’t worry,” Lane said, “Even Stone can’t face down that many kilowatts.  He’ll be down for a while.”

“Then why are we running?”

“Because he’s not working alone,” Al said.  Sitting in the front passenger seat, Harry leaned against the window, eyes closed and withdrawn.  His freckles popped out in stark contrast to his skin, which had a greenish cast to it.

“What happened to him?”  Sam asked.

“Lightning bolts aren’t exactly easy.  All that energy has to come from somewhere,” Lane said.  Sam took a longer look at Harry.  She had trouble reconciling the quiet, shy guy with the freak of nature she’d just witnessed.  He’d made lightning?  No, that kind of thing should come from people in colorful unitards, with white hair and exotic features.  Not pudgy twenty-somethings who spent too much time on the internet.

“She still doesn’t believe us,” Al muttered.  Lane shrugged, as though to say there wasn’t much else they could do about that.

But Al was wrong.  Sam did believe.  She’d seen it with her own eyes, after all, and this time she couldn’t blame it on a lack of oxygen.  She wasn’t dumb enough to keep denying, not when she herself had been on the verge of the same discovery.  It wasn’t belief that was the problem. 

It was the heavy feeling of dread when she realized another, related truth:  in a few short hours, the world had changed from something solid and practical, something she knew and understood, into something strange and unpredictable.  A new place she had no experience with.She was out of her depth.  And until she had a better idea of how things worked, she was actually going to have to rely on the three Hardy boys to show her the way.  Taking a deep breath, Sam turned to Lane: “Tell me everything I need to know.”

Chapter
5

“We call ourselves Talents,” Lane began, “We aren’t superhuman, nothing like that.  Our brains work differently, and because of that we have special abilities.  But it’s a genetic trait, like red hair, or the ability to run fast.  It’s passed down through families.”

“But when someone’s good at sports, they’re on the news.  Why haven’t I heard of this before?”

“We’re organized.  You ever heard of the Inquisition? Early on in history, we recognized that being a Talent was...a liability. So we learned to keep things to ourselves.  Quiet self-governing organizations set the rules; the rest of us follow.  The U.S. Government knows, of course.  At least, those with security clearance.  But for the most part, we keep a low profile.  Accidents like yours don’t happen that often.”

“You mean the bus crash?  I had nothing to do with that.  Honestly, I don’t know why you, Stone, any of these people are using that as a reason to fixate on me.” 

This was the truth.  About a week ago, Sam had been taking the bus home from visiting the Santa Monica pier.  They’d been heading east on the I-10 when a car ahead of them cut off an SUV.  The SUV broke too fast and spun out of control.  Since the rule on all California highways was to drive as close as humanly possible to one another, this had set off a chain reaction nightmare of crashes.

Sam had been sitting in the back of the bus, helpless, watching as the disaster unfolded.  The driver cursed, slammed on the breaks, but even he couldn’t defy the laws of physics and then—the world went black.

She woke up with paramedics hovering over her, telling her not to move.  But she was fine.  Everyone on the bus was fine, actually.  In a thirty-something car pile-up, everything had somehow managed to wreck
around
them.  It was a strange occurrence, but of course the news had to make something out of it and call it a miracle. 

Clearly, Lane didn’t quite believe her, but rather than looking skeptical he looked sympathetic: “It’s common for Talents in transition to go through a period of denial.  Your abilities aren’t fully formed yet, and—”

“Transition?”

“It’s like—think about growing an extra arm, you know?  Your brain would have to figure out how to use it.  This is similar,” Lane explained, “Most Talents go through it younger than you.  Around puberty.  Which really makes puberty suck, believe me.”

“So what’s different about me?”

“No telling.  But usually the later you go through transition, the stronger your powers tend to be.  So that’s good,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. 

Sam didn’t buy it.  That smile never met his eyes, which meant he was leaving things out.  But she decided not to press him right now.  She had a whole list of questions to be answered, but she had the feeling that if she wanted total honesty, she’d have to wait until she could catch him off-guard.

“So,” Sam said, looking towards Al, “Do we have a destination in mind, or are we just running aimlessly?”

“We’re going to Vegas, baby, Vegas!”  Al exclaimed, “And I’m going to double down on black, whatever that means.”

“My supervisor is in Vegas,” Lane said, “On vacation.  He won’t appreciate the interruption, but I’m sure he’ll understand when we explain what happened.  He can help you, protect you.”

 So at least someone here knew what they were doing.  That was a relief. 

“We just have to find him,” Al said, “Shouldn’t be too hard in Vegas.”

Maybe not such a relief after all.

#

Sam sat up abruptly and realized she had been napping.  She blinked at the neon lights, trying to remember where they were. 

“We’re here!” Al said.

Looking around, she realized they were parked in front of a convenience store.  Pretty plain and standard for a convenience store in a strip mall.  But what was hurting her eyes was the enormous neon sign sitting on top of the otherwise nondescript building—and the dozen or so others crowding the street.  The glamour of the sign belied the crappy stucco of the row of shops built in the 70s, before everything in this area had been taken over by mega corporations.  Situated as it was, a low-rent place in the highest valued block in Vegas, it was clear that the strip mall was only biding time before it was swallowed up and knocked down to make room for another one of the gauche hotels taking over the strip.

 “How’ll we find Jacobs?”  Harry asked, peeking through the window and up at the hotel/casino shadowing them. “This place is insane.”

“One step at a time,” Lane said, “Though I’m sure a few phone calls wouldn’t hurt.”    

Harry shook his head, clearly not happy with this answer.  At least he looked more awake, Sam thought, and healthier.  That was one thing to check off her guilt list. 

Sam stretched her arms over her head, working out the cricks in her shoulders caused by a combination of stress and sleeping unnaturally.  She couldn’t stretch away the pressure in her skull, which was starting to build again.  Like her brain was a battery—no, a generator, that had been flipped on and was looking for a place to put all of the excess.  Only she had no idea what to do with it.

Climbing out of the car, she took a step towards the convenience store only to find Al blocking her way with an awkward smile.  A strong hand gripped her shoulder, and she turned to find Lane looking down at her.  Oh.  Right.  That whole police thing.

“I believe you now.  Talents.  Telekinetic powers.  Really cool.  I understand,” Sam said.  Fat lot of good it did her.  Lane’s hand loosened up; it didn’t let go.  Sam sighed, “I’m not going to be left alone any time soon, am I?”

Lane cleared his throat, looking down on her, “It’s for your safety, really.”  He inclined his head towards Harry, who stepped forward: her new honor guard.  And so you don’t try to sabotage us again, Lane had the good grace not to mention. 
Which is the price you pay for being sensible,
Sam reasoned to herself. 
And since you still don’t know what’s going on, you’re sensibly going to ignore any unpleasant confrontations with the three weirdos who have twice saved your behind.  Two weirdos, one weirdo in a cute and undeniably appealing package.
  At least for now.  At least until she figured out how to regain control over the situation and get out of this mess.

Giving Harry a sidewise look, Sam left the car, heading into the store.  Harry followed, blushing bright red as he recognized the beeline she was making for the ladies’ room.  Sam held the door open wide before she went in, illustrating that there was no escape from the windowless room.  A few minutes later, having taken care of urgencies, she leaned on the single pedestal sink attached to the wall and frowned at her reflection in the cracked mirror.  Hair: Messy.  Face: Dirty.  Clothes: Also dirty.  Eyes: Red-rimmed with dark circles.  Nose: Slightly crooked, but there was nothing she could do about that; it’d been like that for years.  Self: Smelly.  This, all told, was a lovely picture.  The greenish cast of the fluorescent light bulb didn’t help her, either.

Sam may have eschewed most female pursuits, but a little healthy vanity was not among the ones she rejected.  She took the time to try and untangle her hair with her fingers.  Luckily, it was thick enough that a little untidiness could go unnoticed.  Which was more than she could say to the smudges of dirt on her cheek and forehead.  Heaven knew how she got those.  She’d fallen almost as much in the last seventy-two hours as she had during her entire adolescence.  And that was saying a lot.

A paper towel and water took care of most of the visible grime, and she looked slightly more refreshed.  Now, about her clothes—a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.  Time’s up.  Sam opened the door and tested the waters by smiling at Harry.  He smiled back.  Encouraged by his friendly response, she decided to venture a conversation.

“What’s it like?  Calling down the lightning?”

Harry shrugged, his favorite expression: “Awesome.  And then exhausting.  Takes a lot of energy to control all that power.  Not many other Talents can do it which makes me...”  His voice trailed off.

“Special?” Samantha supplied.

Harry blushed again, “I guess so.  Any power over elements tends to be rare.”

Sam waited for him to say more, but Harry had exhausted his conversation for the day.  As they passed a “Help Wanted” sign on the counter, an alarm went off in Sam’s memory.

Oh no.  Oh no.  Future life at risk in more ways than one—she had a job interview tomorrow—-no, scratch that,
today
.  Allied Trust was one of the fastest growing financial management firms in the United States.   This would be her third and final interview for the coveted entry-level position of junior financial analyst.  And since it was back in LA, she wouldn’t make it if she had wings. 

OK, deep breath.  It’s only a job.  Albeit the first stepping stone to her dream job and a lifetime of financial security.  Opening her purse, Sam rifled through it quickly.  It didn’t take long to realize her cell phone was missing.  She groaned.

“You guys took my phone!”

Harry stared at her.  “What did you expect?” he said, “You called the police on us.”

“I need that phone.  I need to call someone.”  Sam straightened her shoulders and took a step towards the blond.  “Give me the phone,” she said.

“I don’t have it.”  Harry took a step back, glancing around for backup.  But his compatriots were busy in the pastry aisle, arguing over the health benefits of raspberry filling versus cream.

“Then give me yours.”

Just as tall as he was, Sam used her height to her advantage, invading his personal space: “I know you have one.  I can see it in your back pocket.”

“I don’t—” His hand went back reflexively, covering the phone, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have a job interview in six hours.”  Samantha explained patiently, “If I don’t call and cancel, I’ll lose the job.  This is my future at stake.”

Harry pulled his phone out of his pocket and hesitated a second, clutching both hands around it protectively.  Biting her lip, Sam struggled to restrain her impulse to reach forward and snatch the phone from his grasp.  Harry looked towards Lane again, a sort of desperate expression on his face.  That, more than anything, drove Sam insane.  Why couldn’t this guy make up his mind for himself?