Isaac turned his head to look down the hall—or so I assumed. The gray wall on my screen could just as easily have been outside.
“That’s a lot of questions, and I’m in the middle of something. We’ll have to make this quick.
In the background a series of baritone horn blasts sounded. An alarm?
“Do you have to go?”
“No. It’s been like this for the last hour here. Let’s try to cover what we can…
Melanie shook her head, “You all heard about that prom, right?”
“I was there,” Courtney said, sounding annoyed.
Michelle, confused, said, “I’m not from here. I’m from Traverse City, so if something special happened, I don’t know about it.”
“You heard about it,” I said. “It’s the one where a guy turned into a monster and attacked people in the gym, and the Heroes League took him out?”
“Oh,” she said, sounding shocked, “that prom. They were talking about it on the news for weeks. That was when people started using that… power juice stuff?”
Right there I guessed that Courtney hadn’t told Michelle that Keith had been the guy who got famous for demonstrating power juice, breaking his arm in the process. I felt sure she wouldn’t thank me for explaining it either.
“No, I didn’t.” I’d been following the whole thing obviously, but not through the news.
Well, a little through the news, but mostly through the Michigan Heroes Alliance’s emails. The various states’ Heroes Alliance groups had come out against it.
Still, I’d originally heard about the change last spring. I wondered what took them so long.
Courtney barely gave me time to finish my sentence. “I thought they’d do something eventually, but not without more warning.”
The next day I sat down to eat breakfast with Jeremy in Hardwick Hall’s cafeteria. My first class was organic chemistry at 9 am—which seemed cruel and unusual punishment given when I went to bed.
“Organic chemistry? Don’t sophomores take that? And it’s supposed to be a hard class.” Jeremy looked up from his cereal. He’d dripped a little milk on his t-shirt.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s only the first week, but it doesn’t seem that bad. I tested out of so much stuff that I’m taking everything out of order.” Continue reading Taking Control: Part 2
By the time the police took the Nine’s people away in a Box, it was already three in the morning. The fight had taken maybe ten minutes. Answering their questions took most of the time.
We never saw the helicopter that the leader—Cassie’s brother? What do you call someone who was cloned from the same person you were cloned from? Cassie had at least been raised by the original Captain Commando. It made sense if she thought of him as her dad, but for the guy we’d fought, Captain Commando wasn’t much more than an unwilling DNA donor.
Anyway, the Nine’s copter didn’t appear. The News 10 Choppercam did, but unless they were secretly controlled by the Nine, the Nine’s people must have scrubbed their mission.
That’s a long way of saying that by the time the police cars and deep sounds of the Boxes’ diesel engines faded, we’d relocated to the van I’d parked in the alley. Continue reading Taking Control: Part 1