Just Cause Universe 3: Day of the Destroyer (18 page)

“She came to me afterward. She was a wreck. When I realized what had happened, I knew she had to leave right away.” Elizabeth’s voice took on a hard edge. “Dyersville is a small town, and we’re pretty backwards in a lot of ways. Women are pretty much second-class citizens. We do what we’re told, put out for the boys, get married and be barefoot and pregnant. That’s the way it’s always been. The town elders wouldn’t stand for a woman being uppity with one of the popular boys. And as far as killing him with parapowers?” She shuddered. “She’d never even make it to a trial.”

“They’d kill her?” Faith was incredulous. She never realized this kind of thinking still existed. Living in a modern city like New York had colored her view of the world in a much broader palette than in America’s Heartland, she realized.

Elizabeth nodded and sniffled. “They don’t like folks who are different around here. More than one long-haired hippie or Negro has gotten himself beaten up here. Or worse.”

“Jesus,” Faith repeated. “Can you prove this?”

“I gave Gretchen my folks’ emergency cash to buy her bus ticket.”

Faith shook her head. “That’s not good enough. I believe you, but that’s not going to wash with the Feds on the case.”

“The Feds?”

“Using parahuman abilities against someone mundane is a federal crime. Your friend is in an awful lot of trouble and a lot of people are looking for her right now. You better hope it’s the right people who find her, and that’s Just Cause. Now you’ve got to give me something tangible.”

“How about Donny’s car? I can tell you where I hid it. It’s under a big pile of hay in Mrs. Wickersham’s barn. Her husband died last year and she’s giving up the farm so nobody would notice it.”

Faith pulled out her radio. “Steel, did you copy that?”

“Affirmative,” said the Steel Soldier over her radio. “Moving to confirm that report now.”

Faith sighed. “The car will help. But that’s still not enough. Gretchen arrived in New York this morning and disappeared. If she tried to get to us, she never made it. Where would she go? What would she do?”

“I don’t know,” cried Elizabeth. “I called my cousin and asked him to meet her. I don’t know if he did or not. I haven’t heard from either one of them and I’m worried sick about it. I’ve heard stories about New York, about the bad things people do to each other there.”

Faith shrugged. “Sounds like they do bad things to each other here too, Elizabeth. What’s your cousin’s name?”

“Shane. Shane Clemens. He works for that power company with the funny name.”

“Con Ed?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Faith grabbed her radio. “Sundancer, Steel, meet me at the western edge of town. We’ve got our lead.”

#

“Harlan, Momma says to come out for dinner.” Reggie’s voice piped down the hall in a tone that set Harlan’s teeth on edge. He trudged down the hall, knowing he was in for another round of tongue-lashing.

It began before he even reached the table. “Boy, you better not sit down at my table with hands and face looking like that. Get your butt into the bathroom and wash up.”

Harlan sighed and headed to the small quarter bath off the kitchen. He scrubbed grease and dirt off his hands. For the first time that day, he saw just how badly the boys had beaten him up earlier. His lower lip was swollen and cut. He had caked blood around his nose. One of his eyes had bruised so that it looked like someone had colored it with a Magic Marker. He splashed water onto his face until the smudges and dried blood were gone.

Thus presentable, he returned to the table. Momma had baked a ham casserole and cooked some greens on the side. It smelled delicious, but Harlan felt a little nauseated and knew it wouldn’t take much to make him ill.

“Momma, can I say grace?” asked Reggie.

“Yes, baby,” said Momma. She shot a significant glare at Harlan that implied if he didn’t behave himself that she would knock the black right off him.

“Thank you Lord for our food and our house,” Reggie intoned. “And bless Momma and Irlene and Harlan and me. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

Harlan muttered “Amen” along with her to avoid any unpleasantness. His God was Science, with angels named Tesla, Einstein, and Edison, but no one else needed to know that.

Momma dished up and passed plates to Reggie and Harlan. Reggie dove in with gusto but Harlan could only push the food around his plate with a fork.

“Momma, isn’t Leenie going to eat with us?” Reggie asked between bites.

“Not tonight, baby. She’s working on a case with her teammates,” said Momma. She turned to Harlan. “She called me earlier to say so. She also said she gave you some passes to visit Just Cause after you gave her a song and dance about impressing a girl.”

“That was true, Momma.”

“Then where are they?”

Harlan’s ears burned. “I don’t have them now.”

Momma’s face tightened, as if her skin shrank as her temper rose. “It’s bad enough that you lie to me, but now you got to drag your sister into this.”

Here it comes, thought Harlan.

“I don’t know why you can’t be more like Irlene,” said Momma, launching into one of her favorite tirades. “She never cut classes. She graduated at the top of her class. Top of her class! Don’t you know what that means for a young black woman today? She could go to college. Nobody in our family ever went.”

“Momma, may I have some more, please?” Reggie held up her empty plate.

“Land sakes, Reggie, I don’t know where you put it all. You certainly may.” Momma spooned more casserole onto her plate, and then returned her attention to Harlan. “You’re a smart boy, Harlan. But you need to buckle down and study so you might get the chance to get out of this neighborhood too. I won’t let you skip school anymore. From here on, either Irlene or I will take you to school every day.”

“But, Momma,” began Harlan.

“I’m not finished,” said Momma. “No more going to that horrid garage. I won’t have you wasting your time in all that dirt and filth when you should be learning.”

Harlan sighed. “I promise I won’t ever go back there again,” he said. “Gonsalvo retired today. I don’t know what will happen to his shop.”

Momma sniffed. “Well, that’s something. But your obsession with tools and things ends now. Your one focus in life is to be school, and nothing but school until your grades come up.”

“That ain’t fair!”

“You gonna tell me about
fair
? Of course it ain’t fair. It ain’t fair that I have to work two jobs to feed, clothe, and house you. It ain’t fair that you got no father to whip you when you mouth off.” Momma’s face darkened. “And it ain’t fair that I’ve got an ungrateful little bastard of a son like you!”

Reggie knocked over her milk glass and shrieked in surprise. “I’m sorry, Momma! It was an accident!”

Exasperated, Momma went to the sink for some rags. “I know, Reggie. Try to be more careful.”

“I will.” Reggie took a rag and carefully sopped up spilled milk. She smiled at Harlan as she cleaned up her mess. He blinked at her. It had looked to him like she’d knocked it over on purpose, but he couldn’t understand why.

Momma grumbled about the waste as she wiped up the table to get what Reggie had missed and went to the sink to rinse the rag.

“Ain’t you going to eat, Harlan?” whispered Reggie.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

“Give me some of your food.”

Keeping one eye on Momma’s back, Harlan scraped half of his food onto Reggie’s plate. Their mother returned to the table and sat down.

“Momma, I’m sorry. My eyes was bigger than my tummy,” said Reggie.

“That’s all right, baby. We’ll have leftovers for tomorrow.” Momma took Reggie’s food and put it back into the casserole dish.

“May I be excused?” asked Reggie.

“Yes, sweetie. Go get ready for bed.”

“May I be excused too, Momma?” Harlan figured that maybe he could salvage something of the evening if he got off her bad side.

She grunted but took his plate and scooped the remains back into the dish as well. “You aren’t out of the woods yet, mister. I don’t want any more trouble from you tonight. You get your filthy butt into the tub.”

“Yes, Momma.” Harlan ran away to avoid any further wrath. He stopped at Reggie’s door. “Hey, I know what you did, and I just wanted to say thanks.” The word felt strange in his mouth.

Reggie smiled at him. “It’s okay. I don’t like when Momma yells at you. She yells at me, but not as bad as you.”

“Someday…” Harlan stopped, not knowing what he’d been about to say, except that it had an air of finality about it.

#

Tommy wanted to run, to scream, to hit something. He didn’t know whether to cry or die. Outside, dust swirled through the parking garage as miniature zephyrs twisted around John’s car in a reflection of Tommy’s inner turmoil.

“Is it because you’re straight? I know you probably are. Most guys are.”

“No, it’s not that,” said John.

“Is it me? Something wrong with me?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then what? What is it? Why can’t you love me?” Tommy’s voice rose in an accusation. Dust pelted the side of the car like a sandblaster.

“Tommy, listen to yourself. Do you even know what you’re asking?”

“For you to love me!”

“Which means what?”

Tommy sighed. The swirling wind in the garage died down as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “It means you love someone, John. Love, you know?”

“Tommy, I don’t know.”

Tommy’s head spun. It was like trying to describe the color red, or the sound of a flute. “When you care about someone, more than anything in the world. When their well-being and happiness is more important than yours is. When you’d die so they might live.”

“Tommy, you are a good friend, and I care about you, but what you’re describing are feelings I’m not capable of experiencing.”

“Bullshit.” The wind whistled with vehemence in agreement. “Everybody is capable of that.”

John sighed. “I’m not like everybody else. I don’t have any strong feelings.” He smiled wryly. “I’m very much like a rock in that regard. I don’t suffer hate, or incapacitating grief. Joy is beyond me. And so is love.”

Dust pattered against the windows. “That’s terrible,” said Tommy at last. “I feel sorry for you.”

“You don’t need to, any more than you need to feel sorry for someone who can’t fly. Just because someone can’t experience something doesn’t mean their lives are less fulfilling.”

“Still,” said Tommy. “I wish I could… I don’t know, teach you or something. Being around you, being with you, it makes my heart cry out for you.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the car was the wind whistling around the antenna. John snorted and then put his hand over his mouth. His shoulders quaked, making the car rock on its springs. John’s barely-restrained mirth set off Tommy into helpless giggles.

Soon both men were guffawing with the kind of laughter that only two close friends could share. “My heart cries for you,” said John in the most simpering voice he could manage with his stentorian baritone.

Tommy shrieked with fresh peals of laughter. “I could teach you, you know.” They crumpled into each other, cold stone and hot flesh leaning together for support. The laughter slowed until Tommy wiped his eyes. “Christ,” he said. “I needed that.”

“It felt good,” said John.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t feel strong emotions,” said Tommy.

“Humor is humor.” John smiled at him. “And it was very funny.”

“Yeah, I guess it was,” admitted Tommy. “Thanks for not freaking out at me.”

“You’re too good a friend for that. I just hope you understand.”

“I’ll try. It won’t be easy.”

“Nothing ever is. That’s why they call it life.”

“I thought that was a magazine.”

“Funny.” John started up his car. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah, I need to get into my own clothes. I feel slimy in Javier’s.” Tommy noticed the manila folder on the seat between them. “Is this the file from the meeting?”

“Yes.”

The Scout groaned as it climbed out of the underground garage. Like everything else he did, John drove with slow, deliberate care, keeping plenty of safe distance between him and the car in front. Tommy put his feet up and out the window to read the folder. “Comfortable?” asked John with a smile.

Tommy laughed. “I could use a cold drink if you’ve got one. Preferably with a lot of strong alcohol in it.”

“Well, there’s always the watered-down beer at the field.”

“Jesus,” muttered Tommy as he read. “Nineteen years old and killed a guy. What a way to start out. She should be going to parties and making out with boys.”

“What were you doing at nineteen?”

Tommy grinned with fond memories. “Going to parties and making out with boys.” He looked at the faxed picture of her. “She’s pretty. At least, I think she is. This is a lousy picture.”