Paranormals (Book 1) (17 page)

"Lincoln!" she called when she saw him. Leaving the stranger’s lap, she rushed forward to give him her customary hug.

Lincoln returned it carefully, but his eyes never left the bald man. "What’s this about?" he asked without preamble.

The balding man appeared unflustered by his rudeness. If anything, he seemed pleased to get straight to the point. "Why, this is about
you
, Lincoln Roberts. Perhaps you would care to discuss this in private? Or have you already told the children about your new ...
self
?"

Lincoln went cold inside. "Tommy," he said in a voice far shakier than he would have preferred, "why don’t you take Sarah down to the playground?"

"
Really
?" his brother asked in shock. The apartment complex’s playground was usually off-limits — "too visible" Lincoln had explained — and they’d
never
gone down there without his supervision.

"But, Lincoln," Sarah protested, "I was just telling Uncle Richard about—"

"
Now,
Tommy."

Both children recoiled slightly at his sharp tone of voice, but at least neither protested further as Tommy took his sister’s hand and silently led her from the apartment. Lincoln promised himself he’d apologize later, but right now he had
way
too much on his mind.

"Who are you?" he asked the bald man. The other two watched the exchange in amusement — the one in the recliner had bright red hair, and the one on the couch near the bald man had terrible acne scars, but otherwise they were nondescript.

"My name is Richard McLane," the man answered. "And that’s all you need to know for now. What matters is that
you
are Lincoln Roberts, construction worker and brand-new
paranormal
."

"I ... don’t know what you’re—"

"
No
." McLane sat forward, and his pseudo-friendly demeanor slipped considerably. "
No
. Don’t waste my time with that nonsense, Lincoln. This is not a game, and I do not like wasting my time. Do you understand me?"

Lincoln remained quiet, but he nodded. How far away were the kids now? If he decided to
attack
these men, would they be safe? For the very first time, he actually felt something akin to
gratitude
for his new strength. Before, the notion of jumping all three of these men would have been wishful thinking, at best. But now—

"Don’t even think it, asswipe," the red-headed man lounging in Lincoln’s recliner grumbled. He held up his right hand, and a bright electrical charge crackled between his forefinger and thumb. "Even if
you’re
tough enough to take this, I doubt the walls around us are. Maybe you don’t care that much for your stuff, but what about the kids? Huh? Be a lot of
chaos
if the whole damn building suddenly caught fire."

Lincoln stared daggers at the man ... but he relaxed his stance.

"Good boy," the electrical man chuckled.

"Enough," McLane snapped. The electrical man shrugged and went back to reading Lincoln’s TV Guide. Turning back to Lincoln, McLane continued, "We know who you are. We know
what
you are. And we’re fairly certain what
kind
you are. You’ve gained strength and invulnerability, yes or no?"

"Yes," Lincoln choked through numb lips. "How did you know?"

"A fair enough question." McLane gestured to the acne-scarred man sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "My associate here has the ability to detect
other
paranormals. He’s fine-tuning that skill every day, but the
specifics
are still only up to eighty-percent accuracy." He turned a hollow smile to the man, "Now I believe that would be eighty-
two
-percent."

The man with the scars nodded his appreciation.

"What do you want?"

"We want
you
." With that, McLane returned to the casual posture he’d maintained while entertaining Sarah. "Come now, Lincoln, this doesn’t have to be such a
gestapo
exchange. We’d much rather be your friend than your enemy ... because you’ll have
plenty
of enemies now that you’re paranormal. You realize that, don’t you?" Lincoln shuffled his feet, which McLane took for an affirmative. "Then you also realize that you cannot
hide
forever. Sooner or later,
something
will happen that will expose you. And these days you have more to worry about than just yourself — our research didn’t uncover any mention of your little house guests. I wonder why."

Lincoln’s heart was racing. His mind was screaming, his emotions were surging ... and he couldn’t think of one damn thing to do about it.

"I can
help
you, Lincoln," McLane stated boldly. "I can help you get better food, better housing, better medicine ... and enough
money
to insure all three for the rest of your lives. All I ask in return is your cooperation. Your ...
contribution
to our cause.
Your
cause."

" ‘Cause’ ..."

The electrical man ran his hand through his red hair. "Not too bright, is he?"

McLane silenced the man with a cold stare, then regarded Lincoln once more. "The White Flash happened for a
reason
, Lincoln, and I’ve finally realized what that reason
is
— it is a
cleansing
. Not racial, not religious ... but on some higher criteria we can only
hope
to one day understand." His eyes twinkled momentarily with manic delight, but he quickly reigned himself in. "I worked for the system
against
your kind, but I see that was foolish now — I don’t intend to be on the
losing
side, and I don’t think you want to be, either."

It finally dawned on Lincoln what the man was getting at, but the clarity didn’t make him feel any better. "Rogue," he whispered. "You want me to be a
rogue
."

"A childish term invented by frightened, unworthy people ... but
yes
, I want you to ‘be a rogue.’
My
rogue. Help me, and when the dust settles, you and your little brother and sister will still be standing. I
guarantee
it."

Lincoln had always considered himself to be a
good
person. Not the most pious, not the most liberal, but ...
good
. Since he’d discovered his new abilities, he’d thought of nothing more than how to
hide
them. It had never even crossed his mind to contemplate how he might
use
them. And McLane was right — he wasn’t just fending for himself anymore. If people found out he was paranormal, they’d turn on him. Just like his co-workers turned on Billy Acuna.

Who would take care of Tommy and Sarah then?
Foster parents?
Over his dead body.

God ... it’s so tempting ...

"I ..." He swallowed, then breathed deep and tried again, "I see what you’re saying ... Mister McLane. Your offer is ... um,
enticing
."

"Oooh," the red head whispered, "
deep
word there, partner."

Lincoln ignored him, as did McLane, who was again leaning forward. "Would it be all right if I ...
thought
about it first, Mister McLane?"

McLane’s eyes narrowed as he studied Lincoln’s stressed expression.

Why do I feel like a bug under a microscope?

Finally, McLane answered, "Don’t ‘think about it’ for long, Lincoln."

"... no, sir."

McLane stood, and his cronies followed suit. "We’ll be back
soon
, Lincoln. I would
strongly
suggest you don’t try anything foolish in the meantime."

"... no, sir."

The trio filed out, the redhead crackling a loud
pop
of electricity between his fingers that made Lincoln jump.

Breathing deep, Lincoln tried to relax. He started to close the door, then remembered that Tommy and Sarah were in the complex playground and instead stepped outside. As he was locking the door, McLane called out, "Oh, and Lincoln?"

Lincoln turned — the three had stopped at the top of the stairs. "Yes?"

"I told the children that I was your uncle. How about we
keep
that facade."

It wasn’t a request. Lincoln wanted to charge down there and tear the man’s arms right out of their sockets — it was all the more frustrating to know that he could
do
it, too. Instead, he nodded submissively.

"Good," McLane nodded in return with a big, insincere smile. "You’ll find a one-hundred dollar bill on the coffee table. Why don’t you take the children out to dinner for a change? My treat."

And then, without waiting for an answer, McLane and his friends disappeared down the stairs.

A small, metallic
creak
drew Lincoln’s attention. He was not surprised to find that he had crushed his finger tips right into the door handle.

PCA

When Tommy got up at 3 o’clock in the morning to go to the bathroom, he noticed that his brother was sitting on the couch, wide awake and staring blank-faced into the darkness. Lincoln had been acting really weird since he came home, and Tommy debated whether or not to disturb him. In the end, he remembered that Lincoln had already done more for him and his sister than they could ever hope to repay, and he decided to try and help if he could.

"Linc?" he tested softly.

His brother gave a barely noticeable start before answering, "Yeah?"

"Can’t ya sleep?"

Lincoln shook his head. "Nope. Are you okay?"

"I just had to pee." He walked further into the living room. "Are you worried about something, Linc?"

"Sort of. Uncle Richard ... offered me a job."

"Really?"

"... yeah."

"Don’t ya wanna take it?"

"I’m not sure. It sounds like it’ll pay really well. I’m just not sure it’s something I want to get into, you know?"

"I guess. What would ya be doing?"

Lincoln looked down at his clasped hands. "Odd jobs."

Tommy had the distinct impression that he hadn’t really gotten an answer, but he let it drop. He loved his brother, but it was late and sleep was calling him. "Well ... don’t take it just because of
us
, Linc. We’re doing okay."

Lincoln smiled. "Thanks, Tommy."

Tommy nodded and headed back toward the bedroom. At the last moment, he paused and said, "Oh, thanks again for takin’ us to Red Lobster, Linc. It was
really
good. Can we go back again soon?"

"... sure, Tommy."

With that, Tommy staggered back to bed.

PCA

Lincoln wasn’t surprised at all when he found the red-headed man at the top of the stairs the very next day. He didn’t bother waiting for the question.

"Tell Mister McLane I accept."