GEN13 - Version 2.0 (26 page)

“So,” Kat said, wistfully, as she wiped a spot of mayonnaise from her lip, “do you think they made it out?” “Who cares?” Roxy replied.

Sarah was gently probing her side, double-checking again to make sure that the tape protecting her ribs had stayed mostly in place. She winced as she got to a tender spot. “Well, not about Ivana, maybe,” she said. “But those kids...”

“Those ‘kids’ are stone killers,” Bobby reminded them. “In some ways, it might be better if they didn’t get out.” “Maybe,” Kat admitted. “But raised by Ivana? What chance did they have to turn out to be anything else? I wish we could’ve helped them, instead of just beating the heck out of each other.”

“I don’t disagree,” said Sarah, “but I think we have to be careful not to lose sight of something else. If Ivana and Gen
¹⁴
did survive, we’re not out of the woods yet.” Each of them considered that point—and not for the first time. It was a sobering thought. No one said anything for a bit, until Lynch broke the silence.

“True,” said Lynch. He’d been sitting some distance away, with his eyes closed. Obviously, though, he’d been listening to the conversation while he rested. He opened his eyes and continued. “However, if they do strike again, it won’t be today. We destroyed the linchpin in Ivana’s plan, as well as her current base of operations. Also, remember Ivana’s motivation for setting all of this in motion in the first place. Even if Ivana survived, she doesn’t have the resources at hand to rebuild overnight.

“You people did a good job today. You deserve to wait until tomorrow before worrying about what comes next.”

At that moment, everyone wheeled about at the sound of a window-rattling racket from the other end of the vehicle. Could it be another attack so soon?

Once they identified the source of the din, however, they relaxed. Grunge was sound asleep in one of the beds, and snoring loudly enough to drown out the traffic completely.

Roxy sighed. “Ladies and gentlemen, my boyfriend,” she said, a contented smile on her face.

Kat stretched an arm around Roxy’s shoulders, and gave her a sisterly hug. “Yes,” she said. “He is.”

Bobby studied his sleeping friend. A devilish grin crept over his face.

“Anyone got a marking pen?” Bobby asked. “And a dish of water?”

The long, restful trip back into Manhattan left all of Gen
¹³
feeling somewhat better by the time they stepped into one of the elevators at the lavish Omni-Seasons Hotel. At least, they felt better physically, anyway. Despite Lynch’s assurances, they were still apprehensive about the disaster area that awaited them up above, in their penthouse apartment. They half-expected to find the staff of the luxury hotel in the midst of moving all their worldly possessions out onto the street.

However, when they exited the elevator several dozen stories later, they were relieved to find that Lynch was as good as his word. A construction crew was already hard at work rebuilding the wall that Gen
¹⁴
had destroyed. In fact, a good portion of the skeletal frame for the wall had been erected already. It would probably take a few more days to finish the work and paint it all, but they could see already that the place would soon be as good as new.

Beyond the construction workers, a clean-up crew was also on the job. Like the people working on the wall, the housekeeping people within were abuzz with activity, clearing away the debris from the battle and repairing the damage caused by the broken steam pipe.

Bobby felt a little guilty that Gen
¹³
hadn’t been around to pitch in and deal with the havoc they’d helped cause. Bobby hadn’t been raised in a privileged enough environment to feel comfortable about other people cleaning up his messes. Yet, he reasoned, these people were professionals who knew their jobs. No matter how well-meaning he and his friends might be, they would probably just be in the way. The best course of action was probably to just give the crews some space, take stock of the damage to their personal belongings, and try to get back to their lives.

That’s what his friends all seemed to be doing.

Kat was already talking on the telephone. She had made a beeline straight for the phone book the instant they arrived.

Roxy was sifting through some of the rubble, and shaking the dust out of a tom afghan. “Time to shop,” she said, to no one in particular.

Grunge was on his way to the bathroom.

Lynch was talking to Sarah about going for some X-rays later, just to be on the safe side. Her broken ribs would heal soon enough on their own, but Lynch wanted to be certain that there weren’t any other internal injuries as well.

There was a roar from the bathroom.
Guess Grunge finally looked in a mirror,
Bobby thought, fighting to hide a smirk.
Yup, we’re back to normal.

Grunge came charging out into the living room. A pair of crude glasses had been drawn on his face in black marker, along with a jagged scar down his cheek and the word “LOSER” scrawled across his forehead in capital letters.

Grunge pointed at Bobby and glared.
“You!”
he growled.

Bobby looked Grunge over with an evaluative eye. “Nice tats, dude,” he said, nonchalant. “Are they new?”

Grunge chased Bobby out of the apartment and down the hall, their mutual hoots and laughter filling the air. Roxy shook her head, bemused. She decided (not for the first time) that she’d never understand guys.

Kat hung up the phone. “Well,” she said, with a resigned shrug, “so much for that job.”

“Is that the one from the interview?” Roxy asked.

“Uh-huh. Even if they manage to absorb the financial hit from fixing everything from the fight, I guess they frown on prospective employees blowing up their building. Rats.” She stamped down on a stray hunk of plaster, crushing it to powder. “It was such a great job, too ...”

Roxy reached up to lay a hand on Kat’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. And, much to her own surprise, Roxy realized that she genuinely meant it.

Kat shrugged again. “It’s okay,” she said.

“So, you gonna keep looking?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Mister Lynch was right, after all.”

“Hmph. Imagine that,” Lynch muttered under his breath.

Roxy gave no sign of hearing him. “How’s that?” she asked Kat.

“Y’know.” Kat gestured toward the remnants of the carnage that had tom through the apartment. “You guys needed me when Gen
¹⁴
showed up. Because of that job thing, I wasn’t here.”

Roxy looked at her sister for a long moment, digesting her words.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Reality check!” Roxy said. “You think this wouldn’t have happened if you were around?”

“Well, no, that’s not...”

“ ’Cause you need to get something straight here. The way I remember it, you got your butt kicked downtown, right along with the rest of us.”

“Yes, I kn ..

“No way can you be, like, our amazon fairy godmother twenty-four/seven.”

“Rox...”

“And by the way, in case you forgot: We don’t
need
you to!”

Kat raised her hands in surrender. “Roxy! Time out! Time out, okay?”

She paused to glance warily down at her diminutive half-sister. Roxy was doing her best to stare at Kat with a belligerent expression, but she couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of her eyes.

Kat lowered her hands. “I know you guys don’t need me to babysit you. You’re the ones who saved
me
back at the silo and Girlsworld, remember? Not to mention a million other times before. But the thing is, if there’s one thing that the past couple of days prove, it’s that we all need each other.”

“Big newsflash,” said Roxy.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like a new revelation. It’s not. But it is a good reminder. See, this job.... Well, it was great, but it would’ve taken up a big chunk of my time. A really big chunk.”

Lynch was fully attentive now. Kat’s words were starting to sound reminiscent of his own.

“That’s just too much of a commitment. My first priority has to be here,” Kat told Roxy. “Let’s say I took the job. Let’s say I’m working full-time, not to mention nights or weekends. Then, what if the next time around, some psycho comes gunning for us when we really need to be up to full strength—and I’m not around then, either? Not because I’m the fairy godmother, but just because we’re a team?”

Kat shook her head. “It’s too much to risk. You guys are more important to me than a job.”

Roxy nodded slowly. “But what about all that other stuff you were saying before?” she asked. “That whole bit about needing to have more in your life than just punching out bad guys, and getting a life, and making a contribution to society and all?”

Kat looked down at her feet. .. None of that’s changed,” she acknowledged.

“So?”

Kat shrugged without looking Roxy in the eye. “I’m a big girl. I’ll deal with it.”

“That’s not much of an answer.”

“Do you have a better one?”

Sarah looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Maybe / do ...”

“Caitlin, dolling, where do I push the button to look at my e-mail again?”

“Just a minute, Mrs. Blumberg. I’ll be right there.” Kat checked with the Mitchells to make sure they’d be all right without her. She’d been showing the elderly couple how to play an online game of bridge with another couple in Buenos Aries. After confirming that they were set, Kat got up, walked over, and with a smile, kneeled down beside the elderly woman. Placing her hand gently on top of Mrs. Blumberg’s, Kat helped her guide the mouse to position the cursor in the right part of the screen. “It’s right over here, see? The one marked ‘Receive.’ ”

The cursor transformed into an hourglass as the system checked for new messages. “Oh, thank you, dolling,” Mrs. Blumberg said. “I’m hopeless with these fancy machines without you. One of those old dogs with their tricks.” “Now, now, you’re doing fine. It’s only been a couple of weeks. Besides, you’re not so old.”

“That’s very sweet, dolling. But you were supposed to say, ‘You’re not a dog.’ ”

Kat laughed.

The header for a new message appeared in bold on the screen. Kat pointed at the paper clip icon that accompanied it. “Look, you got an attachment.”

Again, Kat gently guided her hand and helped her open the file. The old woman’s face lit up. “Ach!” said Mrs. Blumberg. “Tell me, in your life, have you ever seen such beautiful grandchildren like these?”

Kat beamed back at her. “Never,” she said.

Kat had lost track of the number of times she’d silently thanked Sarah for her help. Her teammate had been the one who gave Kat the idea and then made the initial connection for her. The same volunteer organization that ran the soup kitchen where Sarah devoted some of her time each week also ran all sorts of other volunteer projects around New York City, too. A Silicon Alley start-up company had donated a set of ten computers and high-speed connections to this particular senior center ages ago. But without volunteers like Kat to teach people how to use them, the machines would gather dust like so many high-tech paperweights.

In the few weeks since Kat had started pitching in at the center, it had proven to be the perfect compromise for her. Because she was working as a volunteer, Kat could spend just a few hours there each week, and if something urgent came up—like an alien invasion or a madman determined to conquer the world—her schedule was flexible. There was no money involved, of course, but that wasn’t a big deal for Kat. A pay check had never been Kat’s chief motivation; she was looking to make a contribution.

And if there was one thing Kat was doing here at the senior center, it was making a contribution. The feeling that Kat got from helping someone like Mrs. Blumberg connect with her grandchildren two thousand miles away was better than beating up a dozen giant, killer robots.

No question about it.

“Caitlin, dear, could you give me some help here?”

“Sure thing, Mister Jefferson.”

Kat and Mrs. Blumberg exchanged a knowing smirk. Both of them knew full well that Mister Jefferson only used the computers when Kat was around. They also knew full well that he only asked her for help as a prelude to the inevitable attempt to hit on her.

It was funny. Getting hit on was the thing that Kat had tried most to avoid when she was looking for a job. But somehow, she didn’t mind it so much when it came from an octogenarian in a wheelchair. The flirting felt different, knowing that he didn’t really mean it seriously—at least, not completely seriously, anyway. As Mister Jefferson told Kat whenever she gently chided him on his advances, “Hey, I’m old. I’m not dead.”

Kat gave Mrs. Blumberg a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The wrinkles at the comers of the elderly woman’s eyes crinkled a little further as she returned Kat’s smile. Then, she turned her gaze back to the on-screen image of children mugging for the camera. Kat headed off to see what sort of pick-up line Mister Jefferson would try this time.

“Hi, Mister J! What’s up?”

“Ah, Caitlin, you’ve arrived just in the nick of time to save me from this wretched machine. And may I say how lovely you look today?”

“You say that every day.”

“Can I help it if you always look lovely?”

Kat was still shaking her head when her cell phone rang. Kat had started carrying the phone when she started working at the center, and she didn’t use it often. It was intended for emergencies, and in fact, only five other people knew the number. So, as soon as she heard the electronic tone, Kat excused herself to answer it.

“Hello? ... Uh-huh ... Again? Which building is it climbing this time? ... Yes, okay. Where? ... Okay, I’ll meet you there. I’m on my way ... Yes, now. ’Bye.”

Kat flipped the phone closed and replaced it in her pocket as she walked over to Mister Jefferson. She gave his hand a friendly squeeze. “Sorry, Mister Jefferson, I’ve got to go. Something’s come up unexpectedly.”

The elderly man in the wheelchair looked up at her. He frowned in exaggerated disappointment. “Now? But I haven’t even told you about my new yacht...”

“Next time, okay? But I’ll warn you in advance, I don’t go in much for nude sunbathing.”