Just Cause Universe 2: The Archmage (20 page)

She scooped up a handful of snow; it was good, wet stuff, the kind that sent kids off building forts and snowmen. She ducked underneath the wagon, compacted it, and hurled it at 300 miles-per-hour at one of the riders bearing rifles. The snowball caught him high on the chest and sent him flying backward off his horse. She picked off the second in quick succession but missed the third as the snowball disintegrated in midair. He snarled and raised the rifle in apparent slow motion. Flame belched lazily forth from the rifle’s muzzle. Sally easily stepped aside as the bullet smacked into the side of the wagon.

A wallop of sound burst the seams of the canvas wagon covering as Will unlimbered his guitar in preparation for some kind of magic. The Native Americans stopped short from the sound. One of them, braver than the others, loosed an arrow at her. Instead of slapping it aside, she grabbed it out of midair and flung it back at him. It whipped across the intervening air to pierce his forearm as if it were a bug to be put in a display case. He yelled in surprise and pain.

The wagon shivered as Juice leaped off it. Electricity crackled all around his body. Will must have generated a powerful charge to boost Juice’s strength to Herculean levels. One of the riders yelled something incomprehensible and charged on his mount. Juice widened his stance and opened his arms. The young man leaned hard to one side and reached out as if to touch Juice. Ignoring him for the moment, Juice sidestepped right into the horse’s path and dug in his heels, leaning forward, pushing his chest against the horse. The great animal’s muscles quivered as Juice brought its momentum to a halt. The Indian flew up and over the horse’s head to land in an undignified heap in the snow.

“
Go away!
” screamed Sally, and reached for another snowball.

A blast of music tore the wagon’s canvas into shreds.

It was enough to convince the Indians that they were out of their league. The injured ones hobbled back to their mounts and swung their legs over their horses’ backs, and they rode away to disappear into the blowing snow.

“Shannon?” Sally asked Juice.

He shook his bowed head.

“
No
!” She climbed back into the wagon where Will and Ace knelt over Shannon. Her form seemed translucent and Sally realized she could see the wagon’s floorboards through her friend’s body. The arrow still protruded from her chest. “What are you
doing
?” she screamed at Will. “
Why aren’t you fixing her?
”

He looked at her, sadness in his eyes. “I
can’t
. I’ve been trying. Nothing I’m doing is working.”

“No pulse,” said Ace.

Juice poked his head through a tear in the canvas. “I don’t know how long those bastards will stay away from us. I’m sure to them we look like easy pickings.”

“Wait…” cried Sally, barely able to see through the tears coursing down her face. “Can’t we do
something
? We’re
superheroes!
”
 

Will frowned. “I’m not a doctor, and I don’t even think a doctor could bring her back. The arrow went in between her ribs. I think… I think it hit something really important.”

“Maybe we can use the snow to keep her cold, while I go find a doctor in town!” Sally said in a rush. “People come back from death all the time!”

“Sally…” Juice put a massive hand on her quivering shoulder.

“
No! She can’t be dead!
It was supposed to be me!
” Sally collapsed onto the floorboards. “It was supposed to be
me!
” she whispered.

Juice didn’t see any need to travel further. He found a shovel in the wagon and dug a grave in the frozen earth beneath the snow.

Sally laid her horseshoe on her friend’s chest, knowing that in a hundred and thirty years, a few months ago, she would find it again. “I forgive you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t watch as clumps of frozen dirt began covering Shannon.

They cut loose the horses from the wagon. Juice figured they’d have enough sense to find their way back to civilization and shelter. They watched the large animals trot off in the general direction of Denver. “All right then,” said Juice. “Let’s go home.”

“Sally, concentrate on your horseshoe,” said Will. “You know it well enough to picture it in your mind. Every notch, every place it’s been rubbed smooth by your hands. Everyone else, concentrate on Sally. Better, put your hand on her. When she
goes
, the rest of us
should
be pulled along with her.”

“
Should
?” asked Juice. “Are you sure this will work?”

“Nope, but it’s got to be better than the alternative.” Energies swirled around Will in the snow as he played and his music warped the very fabric of reality.

Chapter Twelve

“Parahuman problems generally require parahuman solutions, and it is because of that need that we come before you today. The laws as they stand now do nothing to prevent parahuman criminals from perpetrating their crimes against individuals and society at large. But those same laws make it illegal for those parahumans who would protect us to do so. The time has come for those laws to change, and this esteemed body has the power to effect that change.”

-
Adrian Crowley, addressing the House of Representatives, August 14, 1969
 

July, 2004

Denver, Colorado

Just Cause Headquarters

It was a much
gentler
magic that transported them than the storm which deposited them in 1876, thought Sally. She felt a sense of motion that had to be her body’s response to traveling through the dimension of time at an unaccustomed speed. Despite being blind, deaf, dumb, and unable to breathe or move, she felt no sense of panic. She could tell the others traveled near her as they drifted through the fields of magic.

Gradually, her senses began to come back online, as if she’d been a computer going through a reboot. She no longer stood in snow, but on carpet. The freezing wind which had blown around them had been replaced by quiet warmth. A strange yet familiar
smell
permeated the air. It took her a moment to place it. It was hair spray.
Her
hair spray.

The room was pitch black except for the Happy Puppies screensaver on her computer. “Juice? Ace? Will?” she whispered.

“We’re here, Sally,” came Juice’s deep voice. “Can you turn on some lights in here?”

“Yes, sir.” She tripped over the edge of the couch and sprawled on the carpet. She picked herself up and got to the light switch by the door. A moment later the room was bathed in light.

Suddenly Sally realized just how incongruous they all looked in their Old West garb, as they stood in the middle of her suite. She longed to run to the bathroom and leap into a steaming hot shower, to use
real
soap and shampoo, and to wrap herself up in the thickest, softest towel she could find.

“Check your computer.” Juice scratched at his scraggly beard, shot through with gray that he normally hid by shaving his whole scalp. “Let’s find out when we are.”

Sally slipped into the chair and wiggled her mouse. She entered her password at the prompt but the computer rejected it. She frowned and typed it in again but to no avail. She took a deep breath and typed
very
carefully, making sure the CAPS LOCK key was off and concentrating on hitting each and every key correctly.

Nothing.

She turned to Juice. “My password isn’t working.”

The door to the suite banged open. Three soldiers in full combat gear rushed in, P-90 assault rifles raised. “
Freeze!”
they shouted.

Juice raised his hands. “Easy there, son, we’re not here to cause any trouble. Who’s in charge?”

More soldiers took up positions in the doorway and the hall beyond. Sally felt very nervous with so many guns being pointed at her.

One of the soldiers spoke into his helmet microphone. “Command Center, you might want to page Ms. Goodwin.”

“I’m already
here
, Sergeant,” said a feminine voice beyond the door. A woman in her mid-forties dressed in a severe business suit stepped around the corner. Her shoulder-length dark hair was pulled back and she looked at them curiously over rectangular glasses.

“Be
careful
, ma’am,” advised the soldier.

“Always, Sergeant. Well…” She gazed with intense curiosity at Juice and the others. “This is unusual. I’m Christine Goodwin, Homeland Security.”

“James Forsythe.
Juice
. What is today’s date?”

Goodwin raised an eyebrow. “July 20
th
.”

“2004?”

“Yes. You’ve been missing for seven weeks, Juice.”

“What’s going on? Where’s Doublecharge?”

“She’ll be joining us shortly. Now, if you’ll please divest yourselves of those interesting antiques you’re carrying, we’ll remove you to a more secure location.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sally. “Why are you treating us like we’re the bad guys?”

Goodwin glanced at her. “Until we can verify your identities and that you haven’t been turned by the enemy, we have to consider you prisoners. I hope you understand that this is for safety’s sake. Now, if you’ll drop those pistols and that
instrument
and come with us.”

Will shrugged and laid his guitar on Sally’s couch. “I can’t promise it’ll stay there on its own.”

The others laid down their weapons. Their pistols and rifles which had appeared so shiny and new in 1876 seemed dull and fragile compared to the high-tech assault weapons the soldiers brandished.

“Keep your hands in plain sight at all times,” said the sergeant. “Move. Single file. No talking.”

They were escorted to the largest of the holding cells that Just Cause used to keep prisoners until they could be claimed either by local law enforcement or Deep Six. The troops stationed two guards at the door and more outside. Sally and the others were ordered to sit quietly and remain silent.

The locks on the vault-grade door slid open and hydraulics moved the heavy round door aside to reveal Dr. Grace Devereaux. Sally suddenly felt that everything was going to be okay. Dr. Grace, as Sally had grown up calling her, was the daughter of Lane Devereaux, who founded Just Cause back in the ‘50s. She’d cared for Sally’s mother all during her pregnancy and had been the family doctor for most parahumans in Just Cause for twenty years. She was in her mid-fifties, but looked much younger; living in Paris agreed with the woman. She ran the International Parahuman Research Institute and was the world’s foremost authority on parahumans and their powers.

Juice smiled warmly at her. “Grace, what a pleasant surprise to see you.”

“Likewise,” said the doctor. “They said you were probably dead. Or captured. I’m here to determine for sure that you’re
you
.”

“And then we’ll be let go and someone will tell us what’s going on?” asked Sally.

Dr. Grace’s brow furrowed. “That remains to be seen.” She opened her bag and removed some electronic devices and a palm computer. “Now then, you’ve all done this before,” she said as she removed a plastic tube from a wrapper and inserted it into a device. “I have all of your genetic imprints on file.” She held the device up to Juice, tube extended. “Blow.”

Juice blew into the tube until the device beeped. Dr. Grace ejected the tube and sprayed something resembling an asthma inhaler into the hole before inserting a new tube. Sally and Ace each took a turn on the genetic breathalyzer.

“What about Will?” Juice asked. “His imprint won’t be in the Just Cause computers.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Dr. Grace popped a fresh tube into the device before she handed it to Will. “But it
is
in my own files.” She looked around. “Where is Shannon Tokugawa?”

Juice’s jaw tightened. “Killed in action. I’ll give further details at debriefing.”

Sally sniffled as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

After Will finished his test, the doctor pulled a data card from her device and inserted it into a port on her palm computer. A moment later she looked up and smiled at them encouragingly. “They’re
our
people,” she said, her voice cheerful. “Confirmed to eight decimal places.”

“Satisfied?” Juice asked Goodwin.

She glared back at him. “Not yet. It’s one thing to confirm you are who we believe you to be. It’s
another
to know that you haven’t been
tampered
with.”

“What
exactly
is it that you’re so worried about?” asked Sally. “You think we’re criminals or something?”

“Not criminals. Enemy agents.”

“Enemy
agents
?” Ace leaped to her feet. “How
dare
you accuse us of that?”

Goodwin remained impassive. “
We are at war
. The Archmage’s forces have gained a strong foothold around that damned magical mountain. Your teammate Crackerjack is currently
leading
those forces. You’ve all been missing for seven weeks. For all we know, the Archmage has been preparing you to infiltrate right into the heart of our defenses, here.”

“Jack’s leading his armies?” Juice’s mouth dropped open.

The door to the holding cell opened and in walked Switchboard, followed by the Lucky Seven’s Juliet and a boy Sally didn’t recognize. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it?” Switchboard smiled.

“Juliet, what are you doing here?” asked Will.

“They pulled us off the front lines,” she said in her soft, reedy voice. “They said there was a situation back here.”

“Who’s the kid?” asked Ace.

“Name’s Michael Copeland,” said Switchboard. “Top of the class in this year’s Academy graduates.”

“Copeland… Copeland…” murmured Juice. “That name is familiar.”

“My father was Mento,” said Michael. “He, uh, was sort of a bad guy. Went up against Just Cause in the ‘70s.”

“That’s right. Whatever happened to him?”

Michael blushed. “He, uh, went straight after that. Found Jesus. Married a nice mid-Western girl, and they had me.”