Amped: A Kid Sensation Companion Novel (7 page)

“So, three strikes,” Smokey commented after I finished telling him and Li about my afterschool escapades. We were once again in Li’s room, which had seemingly become the base of operations for this particular project. Smokey had come by to find out if our labors from the night before had borne any fruit.

“Well, those are three names that we can take off the list,” I said, “so I kind of see it as a glass half-full.”

“Those were the
only
names on the list,” Smokey said.

“There may be more,” Li noted, “after the rest of the data is extracted.”

“And then we’re going to go put the tape back, right?” Smokey asked.

I frowned but nodded. Truth be told, I wasn’t that eager to return the tape. If we did, we’d probably never have another opportunity to review the data it held. That meant that if we’d somehow overlooked something, that door would be shut forever.

“If it is helpful at all,” Li said, apparently noting my mood, “I am copying the data so that the information will remain available for our use after we return the tape.”

My outlook brightened considerably at that, and I couldn’t help thinking that – when this thing was all over – I was going to have to do something exceptionally nice for Li. He was basically turning into my hero as far as all this stuff was concerned.

It seemed inadequate, but I thanked Li and Smokey for their help (especially the former), and then headed home.

*****

There was a visitor waiting for me when I walked into our house: Alpha Prime. Of course, I’d known he was there; I felt his distinctive bioelectric field even before I stepped inside.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. As already noted, Alpha Prime was like a father to me, so getting a visit from him wasn’t out of the ordinary, historically. However, ever since Jim left, he’d been coming by roughly once a week, which was probably more often and more regular than his visits in the past. He never said it out loud, but I felt that Jim had probably asked AP to check up on me while he was away.

He was sitting at our breakfast table, wearing ordinary street clothes – a t-shirt and jeans – instead of the regular black-and-gold uniform of the Alpha League. Even seated, however, you could tell he was a big guy (he topped out at about six-seven) and was all muscle. Tack on the fact that most women thought he had movie-star looks, and it was easy to see why he was hailed as the world’s greatest superhero.

“Hey,” I said, stepping over to give him a hug. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long,” he replied.

“Well, if you were waiting for me, I’m sorry I kept you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been chatting with Esper.”

Reaching out with my power, I felt Esper’s bioelectric field coming from her room. She had probably excused herself the minute she heard the garage going up – ostensibly to give me and Alpha Prime some time to chat together.

“So,” he went on, “how was school this past week?”

I shrugged as I began hunting through the refrigerator for something to eat. “Fine, I guess. Same as always: too much homework, not enough field trips.”

He laughed. “Yes, I hear that’s a common problem in schools across the district.”

I grinned and took out some cold pizza from a few days earlier. It still looked edible, so I tossed the last two slices on a plate and into the microwave while throwing the box into the trash.

“Setting aside school, then,” he continued, “what’s been going on?”

For a second I was worried that, somehow, he knew about Locke Infinite. Then the truth dawned on me.

“She told you, didn’t she?” I asked. “Esper told you that I was asking about my past again.”

“She may have mentioned it,” Alpha Prime replied noncommittally.

“Well, the reason I ask is because no one will tell me anything. You all act like it’s some big secret.”

“It’s not a secret per se. It’s just that there were a lot of bad things happening at the time, and coupled with the fact that we lost Vir… It was really a dark time for the League, so it’s just difficult for a lot of people to discuss. Plus, your records are sealed, so it seems to make more sense to keep quiet until the law says you’re an adult.”

I gave him a skeptical look as the microwave went off. “Come on. We both know there isn’t going to be jack in those records.”

“I can’t say, but just know that everything that’s happened up to now has been to protect you.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m capable enough to go up against supervillains, but not competent enough to handle the truth about where I come from.”

“When you say it like that, it does sound counterintuitive.”

“It’s stupid, if you want to call a spade a spade.”

“Look, the League has been responsible for you your entire life. Can’t you trust us on this?”

“I
do
trust you, but at some point
I’ve
got to be responsible for me, and you guys need to understand that.”

While he mulled that over, I sat down across from him and started to eat my pizza.

“I get it,” he finally said. “And I completely understand your frustration. But this is one of those situations in life where you’ve got to have faith in the people around you instead of relying solely on your own judgment.”

“I hear you, but it would be nice if the people telling me to trust
their
judgment would show a little faith in
mine
.”

He seemed on the verge of making a reply when Esper came back into the room. I took the opportunity to excuse myself; I grabbed the remainder of my food and headed up to my room.

There was an email from Li waiting for me when I woke up the next morning. He had finished extracting the data from the damaged portion of the tape. Using the same analysis as before, he had whittled the prospects down to two names, and had attached copies of hospital records with their contact info to the email. I printed out the attachments and hurried off to school.

I went through my classes as less of a space cadet than the previous day, but still a little zoned out. Things were happening pretty fast – a lot quicker than I would have imagined. Now I was down to my last two rolls of the dice. If neither panned out, it probably meant that one of the assumptions that we’d made along the way was wrong, and we’d have to start all over. The thought of having to do that just made me want to scream.

After classes ended, I reverted to the prior day’s tactic of using my car as an office and began making my last two phone calls. The first was to a woman named Kerri Kerr. I didn’t reach a live person, but got a recording that told me I had reached Frank’s Fish Market, and to leave a message. Looking up Frank’s on my phone, I saw that its location didn’t mesh with the address on Ms. Kerr’s hospital records.

I then dialed the number for the second name that I had, Mary Jones (which I found to be a pretty generic moniker). I got a three-tone chime for my trouble, followed by an automated voice telling me that I had dialed a non-working number. I took a look at the sheet again to make sure I had dialed it correctly, and for the first time realized that there was a notation indicating that the phone number was disconnected.

As Smokey would likely put it, I was on the verge of striking out again. However, I’d had luck the day before looking up the physical address for a phone number that hadn’t panned out. Maybe lightning would strike twice. Mentally shrugging, I entered the address for Kerri Kerr into my phone’s map and a minute later was on my way.

*****

The address for Ms. Kerr turned out to be an apartment building with an outside buzzer system. A frosty winter breeze blew as I examined it, noting that the residents all had their names and apartment numbers on tiny placards next to an intercom button. Looking over the residents listed, I didn’t see the name “Kerr” listed anywhere.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. For instance, she could have gotten married. Checking the hospital record Li had sent me, I noticed that her apartment number was shown as 2C. Looking at the placard with that apartment number, I saw the name “Leonard” next to it. I took a deep breath and pressed the intercom button.

I heard several clicks (apparently the intercom dialing apartment 2C), followed by the sound of a phone ringing. It rang a second time without being answered. And then a third.

Just before the phone would have rang a fourth time, an answering machine picked up.

“Hi,” said a female voice. “You’ve reached Shane and Tracy Leonard. We’re unavail–”

I disconnected the call. Obviously Ms. Kerr no longer lived at this address. Hunching my shoulders against the wind, I hurried back to my car. A minute later, I was on my way to Mary Jones’ address, although I mentally made a note to come back and try to follow up on the Kerr information later, if necessary.

The address on Mary Jones’ hospital records turned out to be some kind of welding shop in an industrial area of town. A decal on the door identified the place as “Riley Fabricators” and announced that they had proudly been serving customers at this location for the past twenty years.

I frowned. This area didn’t look like it had ever been zoned as residential. Even if it had, the time frame for when the business had been in operation didn’t jibe with when Ms. Jones allegedly lived here. However, just the day before, I’d found out one of the women on my list had indeed resided at a business location. Thus, it made sense not to jump to conclusions. With that in mind, I went inside.

I found myself in a small waiting room containing three uncomfortable-looking chairs, a pot of what smelled like burnt coffee, and an old tube television sitting on a card table. To my left was a customer service desk (which was currently vacant), and behind it was an office with “Manager” posted on the door and a huge glass window looking out into the waiting room.

Directly across from me was another large glass window very similar to the one in the manager’s office, except it faced out into the fabrication shop. Looking through it, I saw about a dozen guys at work in a space about five thousand square feet in size, using blowtorches, arc welders, plasma cutters, and more.

After about a minute, a young guy came in from the shop floor through a door next to the window that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I’d like to speak to the manager,” I said, giving him my sweetest smile.

He smiled back in return. “Ah, sure… Give me a sec.”

He went back out into the shop, where I saw him tap the shoulder of another man who, judging by his graying, unkempt beard, was somewhat older; he was also wearing goggles and operating what looked like a heat gun. The young guy pointed back in my direction, and the older man nodded.

The older man turned off the heat gun and laid it aside, then removed his goggles. He was a big guy, maybe a little over six feet in height and about two-fifty in weight. There were wrinkle lines in his face which, along with the beard, gave the impression that he was in late middle age. He began heading my way, and a few moments later he stepped into the shop.

The man looked at me, sizing me up before speaking. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“You’re the manager?” I asked.

“I’m Riley, the owner.”

I pointed at the decal on the door. “Have you really been here for twenty years?”

Riley smiled proudly. “Yep. Right here in this spot.”

“Did you ever have anyone living here, maybe seventeen years ago?”

A look of surprise came across Riley’s face. “Living here?
Here
? This is a fabrication shop, honey. We don’t rent rooms.”

“So you’ve never had anybody staying on the premises, even for a short period of time.”

“Well, I’ve occasionally had a guy or two get into a fight with their old lady and need a place to crash until things cooled down, but it’s never been permanent. A day or two at most.”

“What about just receiving their mail here? Have you ever had anyone do that?”

Riley frowned and shook his head, clearly confused. “Where are you getting this from?”

I pulled out Mary Jones’ hospital record, which I had folded and tucked into the back pocket of the jeans I was wearing.

“I’m looking for this woman,” I said, tilting the paper so he could see the information on it. “Mary Jones. It gave this as her address seventeen years ago.”

Riley started to shake his head. “Not here. I can count the number of women who’ve worked for me on one ha–”

Riley stopped in mid-sentence and drew in a harsh breath. His eyes widened, and he stared at the paper I was holding like it was a live grenade. At the same time, he seemed to collapse into himself, like some firm and sturdy part of his nature had unexpectedly dissolved.

“Let me see this,” he said, basically snatching the paper from my hand. “I need to make some phone calls.”

Without another word, he turned and headed to the office behind the customer service counter and shut the door. Through the window, I saw him tiredly flop into a beat-up executive chair that sat behind an equally worn desk. For a second, he looked as though he didn’t know where he was, and then he reached for the handset of a telephone sitting on the desk and began dialing.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, Riley spoke intermittently on the phone – occasionally making a call, sometimes answering one. However, during the interim, he never left the office, and when he wasn’t on the phone, he seemed to be staring into space – like there was some kind of spectacle going on that only he could see.

I must have been staring at him too fervently, because at some point Riley noticed the attention I was giving him. I tried to look away, but it was too late. He stood up and came out of the office.

“I actually may have some information for you,” he said. “Someone’s supposed to be calling me back any second now. Can I offer you something to drink while you’re waiting?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m good.”

At that moment, the phone rang in the office, and Riley hurried back inside. Apparently, he was in a bit too much of a rush, because he forgot to close the office door. He answered the phone, and began speaking; I strained my ears trying to hear his side of the conversation but wasn’t really able to pick anything up. Suddenly, Riley gave me an odd look that sent chills down my spine. At the same time, through the open office door, I thought I heard him utter the words “still here.”

Alarm bells started going off in my head. Something was off here, but I wasn’t about to hang around to find out what it was. I got to my feet and stepped towards the door I had come in through.

Behind me, I heard the handset being forcibly slammed back into its holding case, followed by the sound of feet shuffling quickly out of the office.

“Hold up!” Riley shouted, but I was done waiting, (plus all my instincts told me that something bad was about to happen). I yanked open the door, preparing to leave as quickly as possible, and found my way barred.