Just Cause Universe 3: Day of the Destroyer (17 page)

Tommy held up a shirt as evidence. “This pattern looks like somebody threw up all over it.” He found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt he could stomach, and selected some sandals that were too small but would serve until he got home.

“I drove,” said John. “Do you want a lift?” With his heavy, oversized frame, John found it difficult to get around town. The team administrators had responded by purchasing an International Scout and paid a shop to outfit it with a heavy-duty suspension, reinforced frame, and oversized controls. John loved it and drove it everywhere. He called it the Stonemobile.

“I’d love it,” said Tommy. “Let me just change.” He ducked into the bathroom. As he dressed, he could hear the low overtones of John’s voice as he lectured Javier some more.

Tommy finished changing and left the bathroom in time to hear John say, “Now knock that shit off before I sit on every piece of your armor until it looks like a manhole cover.”

“Okay, okay,” grumbled Javier. “I’m hip.”

“Ready to go?” asked Tommy, his costume tucked into a plastic garbage bag.

“Yes, for sure.” John clomped over to the door. “I don’t trust the regular elevators in this building. I’ll take the freight elevator down and meet you in the lobby, Tommy.”

Tommy rode the elevator down to the main floor, said hello to a pleasant young couple waiting at the bottom to go up, and walked over to the freight elevator just as John stepped out. “So I know there was a big meeting,” said Tommy. “What’d I miss?”

“A boy in Iowa was killed, apparently by a parahuman,” said John. “The Feds believe she is here in New York now. Faith, Gloria, and Steel flew out to question the locals.”

Tommy shook his head. “It’s a sad world we live in, my friend.”

“Well what about you? You saved a life today.” They headed through the lobby. John took careful steps to avoid breaking the tile floor.

“Yeah, that’s true,” said Tommy. “She and I had a long talk afterward. She was distraught because she’d fallen in love with her boss, and he couldn’t love her back.”

John shook his head. “That’s sad.” He showed his ticket to the parking garage attendant and said he’d get the car himself instead of calling a valet to bring it around. The attendant got John to sign an autograph while Tommy stood in the background.

“Anyway, she got me to thinking,” said Tommy as they crossed the concrete expanse of the garage toward John’s car. “Maybe it’s better to just have those feelings out in the open, instead of just letting them twist and turn in your heart until they make you crazy.”

“Makes sense to me.” John climbed into his Scout, which sagged despite its heavy suspension.

Tommy hopped into the passenger seat. He touched John’s arm. “John, wait. I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Tommy?”

Tommy took a deep breath. His heart raced and his palms were wet with nervous perspiration, and when he spoke, the words came out like bullets in some kind of linguistic Gatling gun. “John… I’m in love with you. I have been for years. You’re in my thoughts constantly. You’re the most important person in my life, and I thought you should know that.” He finished and realized he had his shoulders hunched up as if to brace himself for a blow.

John was silent. He wouldn’t turn to look at Tommy. His huge hands grasped the oversized steering wheel and squeezed until the steel rang.

Tommy could feel his heart beating somewhere in the vicinity of his Adam’s apple. Tears threatened to spill as the deafening silence hung over the men like a guillotine on a frayed wire. “John…”

John bowed his head until the brim of his fedora obscured his face.

“John, please say something.” Tommy felt panic start to rear its ugly head at him and wanted to fill the empty void with words. “You can’t have me tell you something like that and then just sit there. Please, John, for the love of God, say something!”

“Tommy.” John’s voice was so low it was almost subsonic. Tommy strained to hear. “I wish it could be different, but I can’t love you back.”

#

“They’re on the workbench,” cried Harlan as the woman who must have been his mother shoved him into the car. Gretchen watched the Plymouth roll away in a cloud of blue smoke. She felt bad for Harlan; he’d had a really rough day from what she could tell, and now he was in trouble at home on top of everything else.

She turned to Shane, who was discussing the downed line with another Con Ed technician who’d arrived right before they did. “Hey, I’m going inside for a minute. Be right back.”

Shane smiled. “Okay. Oh, Glenn? This is Gretchen.”

Glenn, an older man with a sizable paunch and a bushy mustache, shook her hand with bemused politeness. “Pleased ta meet’cha,” he said with a thick accent. “I didn’t know we had any dames workin’ for us.”

Shane brushed off the question to explain what work he’d done earlier in the day, so Gretchen slipped inside the auto shop.

“Mr. Gonsalvo?” she asked.. She heard no reply. Maybe he was in the bathroom, she thought. She went over to the workbench, gasping a little at the stifling heat. Sitting atop the greasy surface, she found two cards with the words Just Cause printed upon them and signed by none other than Pony Girl.

“Wow,” Gretchen breathed in surprise. Harlan had really come through for her. She tucked the passes into a pocket and almost skipped out of the shop to find Shane.

He stood by his truck, chatting with Glenn and smoking. “Get what you needed?” he asked.

“Yes.” She couldn’t keep a wide grin from spreading across her face.

“See you later, Glenn. We’re going to go clean up.”

They got into Shane’s truck. “Check these out.” Gretchen pressed one of the passes into Shane’s hand. “That’s Pony Girl’s signature there.”

“Sure is.” Shane turned the card over to look at the official Just Cause logo on the back. He passed it back to her and started the truck.

Gretchen yawned and leaned back in her seat. The day had worn her out. She closed her eyes, telling herself it was just for a minute.

The next thing she knew, Shane was shaking her awake. “Hey, Gretchen, wake up. We’re here.”

She looked around, bleary-eyed. “At your apartment?”

“No, at the Con Ed shop. I just signed the truck back in. I was thinking I’d run in and take a shower here in the locker room so I don’t have to once we’re home. To my home, I mean.”

Gretchen yawned. “Oh, okay. What should I do? Wait here?”

“There’s a ladies’ room up by the customer service counter. They’re closed, but I have a key. You could at least change and wash your face and hands there.”

The ladies’ room was small, but at least it was clean. Gretchen shucked out of the coveralls and the sweaty t-shirt she had on under them. Her shoes were a total loss; she tossed them in the trashcan. After splashing water on her face and shaking out her hair, she felt at least clean enough not to repulse anyone nearby. She pulled on a clean t-shirt, slipped her feet into her sandals, and went back out to the customer service lobby to wait for Shane.

He arrived after only a few minutes, wearing blue jeans and a clean white t-shirt. “Ready to go?”

Gretchen smiled and twirled around once. “How do I look?”

He laughed. “Better than when you were covered in sewer muck.”

“Do you have a car?”

He shook his head. “It’s subway and hoofing it from here.”

“I’ve never been on a subway.” Gretchen picked up her suitcase.

“Don’t stand with your back to any creepy old men in raincoats,” advised Shane. “Keep one hand on your valuables at all times. And assume any puddle is piss.”

“God, is it really that bad?”

“Afraid so.”

In fact, the subway wasn’t as terrible as Shane had proclaimed. Nevertheless, Gretchen didn’t realize she was staring at a woman wearing a short leopard-skin dress until the woman said, “See anything you like, honey?” and spread her legs apart to show a lack of underwear. “Thirty bucks for you. Forty if your boyfriend wants to watch.” Gretchen blushed and bowed her head as the woman let out a derisive cackle.

As they got off the car at Shane’s stop, Gretchen took his hand so she wouldn’t lose him in the press of commuters. They moved along with the flow of people. She clutched her bag tight lest someone grab it away from her. Gretchen had never in her life seen this many people in one place.

They ascended the stairs to street level and the crowd thinned out somewhat, but Gretchen kept hold of Shane’s hand. The feel of his rough, tobacco-stained hand felt comforting. She found herself craning her neck wide-eyed at the skyscrapers. The tallest thing back home was the corn mill. “You live in one of those?” she asked.

“No, those are all commercial buildings,” explained Shane. “I live on the seventh floor of an eight-story building six blocks from here.”

“Eight stories!” It seemed like a tremendous height to her.

Shane led her four blocks in one direction and two in another to a red brick building with granite edifices decorating the roof and the space between the fourth and fifth floor. When she saw it, she gasped. “It’s beautiful.” The building might have been fifty years old or more, and it felt like a magical place to her.

Shane looked up at it, as if really seeing it for the first time. “I guess it does look good. I’m used to seeing buildings like it all over town. It’s not that special.”

“It’s where you live. Maybe where I can live too. That’s special enough for me.”

A man with flowing blond hair and clothes too small smiled at them as he got off the elevator. “Shane,” whispered Gretchen after the doors closed. “I think that was Tornado.”

“Who?” Shane pushed the button for his floor.

“Tornado, from Just Cause,” said Gretchen. “Does he live here?”

“That’s crazy. What would he be doing here, anyway? He probably lives in their headquarters in the Trade Center. I bet they all do. I doubt they’d even try to live among us little people.”

The elevator bell rang and the doors slid open. “I guess you’re right,” said Gretchen. “Still, can you imagine having a superhero living next door?”

Shane grinned. “That’s some imagination. Come on, I’m right down the hall here.”

Chapter Ten

July 13, 1977, 6:00 PM

Faith’s remaining interviews were brief and didn’t disclose anything the Feds hadn’t already told her. The dishwasher at the diner had seen Gretchen leave in Donny’s car. No, he didn’t know if they were involved with each other. No, he couldn’t think of any reason she might have to harm him. The other waitress working that night remembered that Donny had been drinking but otherwise had nothing to share. She didn’t think Gretchen was dating him, but Donny changed girlfriends the way some guys changed their shirts.

“He was kind of a jerk, though,” said the waitress as Faith prepared to leave.

“How’s that?”

The waitress shrugged a plump shoulder. “Sometimes he got a little fresh. Wandering hands, you know? He’d lay a girl and then move on.”

Faith lowered her voice. “Off the record… Did you ever sleep with him?”

The waitress nodded, causing a stray lock of mousy brown hair to fall across her face. She pushed the errant strand back behind her ear.

“How did he treat you?”

She shrugged. “Rough. Like I said, he was a jerk.”

“Thanks for your help,” said Faith. She’d seen the girl she’d glimpsed watching her earlier and decided some questions were in order. She zipped around the diner and skidded to a halt beside the lanky brunette. “Hi there.”

The girl jumped as if she’d been scalded.

“It’s clear you want to talk to me,” said Faith. “Well here I am. No time like the present. What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Hague.” She glanced about to see if anyone was watching. “Gretchen is my best friend. Can we talk in private?”

“Of course,” said Faith, excited by the apparent secrecy. This might be the lead she needed.

Elizabeth led her to an old Dodge pickup and coaxed it to life. “Keep down,” she told Faith. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“Who told you that?” Faith hunkered down in the seat.

“My dad. The police chief. They know Gretchen and I were friends. They all want to see her fry because she killed their golden boy, but I know the truth and I didn’t want to tell anybody but Just Cause.” She paused as she passed by the police station and headed to the western edge of town.

“Why us?” asked Faith.

Elizabeth glanced sidelong at her as she pulled the truck off along a dirt road until the tall rows of corn and wheat hid them from the main part of town. “Look, uh, Pony Girl. Gretchen is one of you. A parahuman. You guys take care of your own, right? That’s why I sent her to New York. To find you.”

“You sent her?”

Elizabeth killed the motor and turned to look at Faith. Her intense gaze burned as bright as the sun shining through the windshield. “Donny raped her. He raped my best friend and she killed him with a power she didn’t know she had.”

“Jesus,” whispered Faith. She’d feared that might have been the case but had hoped for something better.