In response, the texts from him vanished, as did my replies. Sparks. He could hack my phone’s memory?
Remember our deal, a new text said. I want his cells.
I hadn’t made any such deal, but there was no use mentioning that now. I jotted down his number on a piece of paper, then watched as—sure enough—this latest text from him faded. A few moments later, a text came from Megan.
Kiss back, Knees.
Everything all right over there? I asked.
If by “all right” you mean me going insane having to listen to Cody make up story after story, then yes.
I sent her a smile.
You realize he’s claiming to have been in the Olympics, she sent. But a leprechaun stole his medal.
Wait for the pun, I texted her. There’s usually a terrible one at the end.
I’m riding with Abraham next leg, she said. Seriously. I thought I’d gotten over feeling like I need to strangle members of this team. Turns out my desire to murder Cody in a violent, dehumanizing fashion had nothing to do with the darkness. It was completely natural.
Hmm, I texted back. We might want to check and see if anything Cody is doing is related specifically to your psyche. There’s a chance, though slight, that if facing your fears can dampen the darkness, other environmental stimuli might enrage it.
A few moments passed.
Nerd, the text finally returned.
I’m just trying to consider all possibilities.
Really, she sent back, why couldn’t I end up dating a guy with a *useful* obsession?
I smiled. Like what?
Romance novels? Make-out techniques? Boyfriend stuff. Maybe then you’d compliment me for something other than my choice in sidearms.
Sorry, I sent. I don’t have a lot of experience in this area.
You don’t need to tell me, she sent back. Seriously, David, it’s a good thing you have such a nice butt.
You realize Knighthawk is probably monitoring this conversation, I warned her.
Well, his butt is pretty damn ugly, she sent, so why should I care?
We hit a rough patch, bumping and jostling. Mizzy slowed, navigating us around it. Do you miss Newcago? I found myself asking Megan. I do sometimes. Strange, eh?
Nah, she wrote. It’s where you grew up. Where your family was from. I miss Portland sometimes. Last place I lived a normal life. I even had a doll. Esmeralda. Had to leave her.
I cocked my head. Megan didn’t talk about those times much.
If I’m truly cured, she wrote to me, I can start looking for them. Once I know for certain.
Your family? I wrote. Any idea what city they’re in?
If I know them, they’re not in a city, Megan wrote. There are more people than you think, living out there in that darkness. Surviving. I’d bet they outnumber the people in the cities; you just don’t see them.
I doubted that. I mean, would that many people really be so invisible? And what happened when one of them turned into an Epic? New Epics tended to lose control immediately after obtaining their powers. The results were often…unsightly.
You know what galls me most about all this? Megan sent. That my stupid father was right. All his crazy talk about an apocalypse, training his daughters to shoot, preparing for the worst…he was right. He thought it would be nuclear, but close enough.
No more came, and I left her alone with her thoughts. A short time later, Mizzy slowed down. “I need a break,” she said. “Wanna switch, Abe?”
“If you are so inclined,” he said.
“I’m inclined. Way inclined.”
Looks like we’re stopping to change drivers, I sent to Megan. Mile marker…32.
We’re ahead of you a few miles, she sent. I’ll tell Cody to slow down until you catch up. We’re almost to the city anyway.
We pulled over behind an old semi-truck trailer, the cab nowhere to be seen. I inspected it with the scope, noting the remains of a long-cold fire inside.
“I need to stretch my legs,” Abraham said. “David, cover please?”
“Sure thing,” I said, loading my rifle. He went for a short stroll, and I stood up out the jeep’s open roof so I could survey, in case someone or something was hiding in the tall grass beside the roadway. Mizzy slid over to the passenger seat, reclined her chair, and sighed in satisfaction.
“You sure about this plan, David?” Mizzy asked.
“No, but it’s the best one we’ve got.”
“Other than straight-up killing Prof,” she said softly.
“You too?” I said. “Knighthawk also said we should kill him.”
“You know it’s what he’d want, David. I mean, he’d be all stern-faced and ‘Don’t you try to save me, now. Do what needs to be done.’?” She fell quiet. “He killed Val, David. He murdered her and Exel.”
“That wasn’t his fault,” I said quickly. “We’ve been over this.”
“Yeaaah, I know. It’s just…you never gave Steelheart a second chance, right? Too dangerous. You needed to save the city. Get your vengeance. Why’s it so different here?”
I turned my scope toward a rustling bunch of weeds, until a feral cat popped out and scurried away.
“This conversation isn’t really about Prof, is it?” I asked Mizzy.
“Maybe not,” she admitted. “I know things are different now. We know the secret to the weaknesses, blah blah. But I keep thinking…why do you get revenge, but not me? What about my feelings, my anger?” She bounced her head against the headrest of her seat a few times. “Blaaaahhhhh. That sounds so whiny. ‘Gee, David. I’d really like to murder your girlfriend. Why won’t you let me?’ Sorry.?
??
“I understand the emotion, Mizzy,” I said. “I truly do. And don’t think a big piece of me doesn’t feel guilty for spending so long trying to kill Epics, only to end up with Megan. Who would have thought that love and hate would be so similar, you know?”
“Who?” Mizzy said. “Like, basically every philosopher to ever live.”
“What, really?”
“Yeaaah. Bunch of rock songs too.”
“Wow.”
“You know, the fact that you were educated in a gun factory kinda shows sometimes, David.”
Abraham finished his business and walked back toward the jeep. I felt like I should give more of an answer to Mizzy, but what could I say? “We’re not doing this merely because we like Prof, or because of my feelings for Megan,” I said softly, climbing down into my seat. “We’re doing this—going to Ildithia to rescue Prof—because we’re losing, Mizzy. The Reckoners were the only ones who ever fought back, and now they’re basically no more.
“If we don’t come up with a way to seriously turn this tide and stop the Epics, then humankind is finished. We can’t keep killing them, Mizzy. It’s too slow, and we’re too fragile. We have to be able to start turning them.
“We’re rescuing Prof not just for the man himself. Sparks, when we succeed, he’ll probably hate us for it, since he’ll have to live with what he did. He’d probably rather be dead. But we’ll do it anyway, because we need his help. And we need to prove that it can be done.”
Mizzy nodded slowly as Abraham got into the car. I put the gun down.
“Guess I’ll have to sit on this thirst for vengeance,” Mizzy said. “Smother it real good.”
“No,” I said.
She turned and looked at me.
“Keep that fire alive, Mizzy,” I said, then I pointed out the rooftop. “But aim it at the real target. The one who actually killed your friends.”
Calamity hung outside, a bright red dot in the sky, like the targeting point on a scope’s overlay. Visible every night.
Mizzy nodded.
Abraham started the car, not asking to be caught up on our conversation. As we moved, my phone blinked and I sat back, anticipating another round of banter with Megan.