Chapter 2
When my vision cleared, I wasn't surprised to discover that Wizzit had teleported me back to HQ. I mean, I was injured and not much use out in the field. Where else would he send me, right?
I was surprised, though, when he did not immediately induce a healing coma. When I asked why not, he replied, "Oh, don't be such a baby! That little speed-up stunt you pulled out there drained your force shield. I can't induce a healing coma until it has recharged. Eight minutes and counting."
Oh. That explained a lot. A whole lot, actually, such as why Lily was able to hurt me as much as she did. If my force shield were drained of power, it wouldn't have provided me with any protection at all, other than camouflage mode and voice alteration. "Can you show me a vid of my, er, speed-up stunt? I'd like to see exactly what it was I did."
I was currently in the lounge, reclining bare-chested in one of the comfortable chairs there. Despite the considerable pain in my side, I had managed to remove my battle vest and skin off my tee-shirt. The tee-shirt was currently wadded up behind me, soaking up the blood that was slowly leaking out of my bullet wound. (Hey, the chairs in the lounge are really nice, and we try not to get blood all over them if we can help it.)
Wizzit obligingly began playing a vid on the large screen in front of me. It was an overhead shot, probably from Mike's or Padma's point of view, since they were the ones on the roof. The monster was in the center of the screen, and I was able to spot Lily off to the right in amongst the Zoinks.
A few seconds into the vid, a glowing blue figure emerged from the lower right corner and merged with the group of Zoinks. Lily began running away, and the blue figure began fighting its way through the Zoinks after her.
"Um, Wizzit?" I asked. "Is that blue guy supposed to be me?"
"Affirmative."
"I thought I was in camouflage mode when this all happened. How come I can see me?"
"Because," he replied in his snippiest voice, "I am correlating your known positions via telemetry with the activity in the vid and colorizing you in real time. It's very hard to do, so stop bothering me with so many questions."
"Oh. Sorry." I settled back, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my side, and watched the action.
The blue figure managed to fight its way through the Zoinks. It paused for a moment, and then it . . . disappeared. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, and then I spotted it, over by Lily. But how had it gotten there so fast? It had taken me, like, ten minutes to reach her.
"Could I see that again, Wizzit?" I asked. "If it's not too much trouble, that is."
"No trouble at all." It's often hard to tell when Wizzit is being sarcastic, so I really had no idea whether it was trouble or not. "Here it is again at half speed. Don't blink or you'll miss it."
I watched again as the blue figure emerged from the crowd of Zoinks, paused, and then disappeared. This time, though, I could see that it reappeared almost instantly just behind Lily, and I even imagined that I caught a glimpse of a blue streak connecting the two locations.
I whistled. "Did I really run that fast?"
"Got it in one, love," Wizzit replied in a startlingly good impression of Toby. "You really did run that fast."
"I don't think I've ever heard of a Prime being able to do that," I said cautiously. "Running at super-speed, I mean."
"It's not common, but it has happened before," he said, still keeping up the Toby impression, although now it was Toby doing his public school voice, so that Wizzit sounded like a news reader from the BBC. "Bheka Nkosi did it once, and Cathy Beals managed it a time or two. Bill could do it whenever he felt like it -- he probably still can -- and I recall Shelley doing it as well. Of course, that was when they were all Prime Red. No Blue has ever done it before.”
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. My side was really hurting now. "So what does that mean?"
"It means that you shouldn't get cocky!" Wizzit had reverted to his own voice. "You will probably be quite powerful by the time you get to be Prime Red, if you last that long. Your sister Angela will undoubtedly be just as good, which is why I want her to be my new Prime Violet. But until you gain better control, we will treat this as just a freak occurrence, understood?"
I nodded. "Understood. I'm not feeling . . . especially cocky right now." What I was feeling, in fact, was cold. And shaky. I could tell that shock was starting to set in.
"Hang in there, Blue," Wizzit said, his voice becoming surprisingly gentle. "Just a few more minutes."
"Okay. What are the others up to?"
"Not much. Would you like to see the real-time vid?"
"Uh huh."
I opened my eyes, and he starting showing me what was going on back at Naples National. Basically a lot of shouting and shooting, none of it very effective. I watched, struggling to stay awake and alert, until Wizzit finally switched off the vid and said those most welcome of words, "Initiating healing coma now."
We Primes get hurt an awful lot in the course of our duties, and if Wizzit didn't provide some means for fixing us up afterwards, our careers would be pretty short. Healing comas are those means.
Despite the name, a healing coma isn't usually a coma in the medical sense. It's basically a special mode of our force shields that enables the body to heal itself rapidly. And it's not just a super-fast recovery, either; a healing coma can actually heal things that normally wouldn't heal on their own. For instance, Toby was blinded during one of our recent missions, his corneas destroyed, but after a healing coma he could see as well as he ever did. So when my healing coma descended on me and I felt the relaxed dopiness that came with it, I breathed a whole lot easier. I was going to be fine.
Your mind tends to drift while you're healing, and mine drifted toward one of its favorite subjects of late, Lily Lee. Now, I'm not the kind of guy who judges women based on looks alone. I like to look at pretty girls, sure, but I also like someone I can talk to. Lily, though, was in a class of her own. Eyes, face, hair, figure -- she kind of takes my breath away.
Add to that the strange air of both mystery and helplessness surrounding her, and man, she got me right where I lived. Shelley tells me that I have a serious thing for damsels in distress, and I think she must be right. At least, I was finding that the idea of holding Lily close in my arms, assuring her with soft words that I would not hurt her, and making her feel safe was very, very appealing.
I often wished there was someone I could talk to about her and help me sort out my feelings towards one of our most persistent enemies. Prime Commander would have been the obvious choice, except that he had been killed weeks ago when Lily had escaped the makeshift prison we had been holding her in.
I had once promised Shelley, back when she was still Prime Red, that I would tell her everything that was going on with me and Lily. Shelley had her own problems now, though. We snuck in to see her in her cell every chance we could -- at least once a day -- but even so, she was having a rough time of it. I hesitated to burden her with my problems.
But it wasn't as if I didn't have anyone else to turn to. There were my teammates -- Padma, Trina, Mike, Toby, Nicolai -- and my parents, my sister Angie, and Grandmaster Park, my Tae Kwon Do teacher. Heck, even Bill was starting to grow on me. I supposed I could talk with one of them. I'd just have look for an opening.
My eyes snapped open, and suddenly I was completely alert. That's the way it is with healing comas. One minute you're snoozing away, and the next you're wide awake and feeling fine.
"Hey!" I said when I sat up and glanced at the clock. "Why'd it take a whole hour, Wizzit? I didn't think I was hurt that badly."
"The bullet that penetrated your abdomen also pierced your large intestine," he replied. "Poop in the gut -- nasty stuff! Had to take the extra time to make sure it all got cleaned out; otherwise you might die of sepsis. Hope you don't mind."
"No, uh, that's fine
, thanks," I chuckled. "So, do you want me to go join the others?"
"No need. They're on their way back here."
"Already? Wow, the military were really on the ball this time. Another bomb?"
"Yupperooni. I'd say the clubhouse and a good deal of the front nine will be unusable for quite some time." Somehow Wizzit managed to sound quite pleased with himself when he said that.
By the time I got myself out of the comfortable chair and down the hall, Mike and the others had arrived in the common room. "Hi, guys," I said. "How'd it go?"
"Trevor, what the hell did you think you were doing out there?" Mike said angrily. "You knew we weren't supposed to interfere, and yet you decided to run out there and jeopardize our whole mission in order to . . . do what exactly?"
"I was trying to get Lily out of harm's way," I explained mildly. "You know, to save her skin? I thought I made that clear at the time."
"Yes, well, noble though that cause may be -- and I'm not willing to admit that it is -- you could certainly have come up with a better way to go about it! Let's just hope that no one spotted you out there. If anyone got even a hint that a Prime helped one of Enclave's minders to escape, you know how the American press would play it up!"
Toby was glaring at me; he obviously agreed with Mike. Padma and Nicolai wouldn't meet my eyes. Even Trina, who I thought would back me up, said, "It was a foolish thing to do, Trevor. Really, you know better than that."
I spread my hands. "Sorry, guys, but I honestly couldn't think of any other way to get her out of there. What should I have done?"
"You should have let her get cut down, is what you should have done," Toby growled. "What is it with you and that girl anyway? I swear, Trevor, ever since you let Robin get killed, you've gone soft. If anyone ever deserved to die, that Lily bitch is the one."
I stared at Toby in shock, feeling as if I had just been sucker-punched. Robin had been Prime Blue back when I was the new Prime Violet. I knew that her death had been my fault -- I had always known it -- but none of my teammates had ever come right out and said so, not to my face. Not until now.
"That'll do, Toby," Mike said evenly. "Robin's been dead and buried for a year and a half. Let's leave her that way, shall we?" Toby snorted and turned away. To me, Mike said, "Look, Trevor, I'm not sure what the best move would have been under the circumstances, but I know this wasn't it." He sighed. "Well, at least we've got her under lock and key again. You took her to the stronghouse, right?"
"Um . . ." I began.
Mike closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Trevor," he said, his voice going dangerously quiet, "please tell me that you teleported Lily to the stronghouse and left her there."
I looked around uncomfortably. "Wizzit, can you help me out here?"
"The stronghouse is no longer available," Wizzit said.
"What?" Mike demanded. "Since when?"
"Since around noon today."
The video screen came to life. Wizzit had tuned it to one of the all-news channels. A perky young blonde newsreader was sitting behind a desk, staring at the teleprompter with utmost concentration.
"There was a new development today," she read, "in the case of Shelley Windham, the accused leader of the shadowy group calling themselves the Primes. Windham, a high school dropout, was arrested by federal authorities several weeks ago in connection with a firefight in New York's theater district."
The scene changed to a handheld camera's view of a large, ranch-style home surrounded by open fields. "This morning, federal authorities, acting in concert with local sheriff's deputies, staged a pre-dawn raid on the Windham family compound. They aren't saying just what they found there, but one source, speaking on condition of anonymity, said that a number of firearms were confiscated."
Mike snorted in disgust. "It's a cattle ranch in Montana. Of course they've got guns!"
The newsreader continued, "But then, in a bizarre twist, authorities discovered this building --" Here, the scene changed to show a large, square structure. "-- in an isolated section of the property. Here's our reporter, Bob Garliano, on the scene."
"Thanks, Christina." A good-looking man with graying hair, his shirtsleeves rolled up nearly to the elbow, stepped out in front of the camera. "The first thing that authorities noticed as they approached the building was that it had no doors or windows. There was simply no way to get in or out. However, when agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives broke down a section of one of the walls to gain entrance, they discovered definite signs that someone had at one time been living there. The building was equipped with electricity and running water, and there were traces of food on the floor. In addition, the walls and parts of the floor were coated with some sort of powdery substance. Now, Christina, the deputies I spoke to couldn't confirm just what this substance was, but they strongly suspect that it's cocaine.
"In addition, they made another discovery that casts a more sinister light on the whole affair." The scene shifted again, this time to show a white surface with dark smears on it. "In one of the rooms, authorities discovered this series of bloody footprints on the floor and on one of the walls."
The scene switched back to the perky young blonde newsreader again, her brows furrowed in an artfully pretty frown. "Bob, do they know to whom the footprints belong?"
"Not at this time, Christina. They told me they have no idea who or what was held captive here. They have determined that the bloodstains are several weeks old, though. Some of the deputies I spoke to indicated that Windham's father, a local rancher by the name of Roy Windham, had died mysteriously some days before Windham was arrested, about the same time these footprints were made, and his body was hastily cremated at Windham's insistence. The authorities are now contacting local physicians in an attempt to find tissue samples of the elder Windham. If those tissue samples match the blood on the walls, I'm told that local prosecutors will soon be filing murder charges against Windham."
"Thanks, Bob. Scary stuff. In other news, . . ."
"What the hell!" Mike exploded as Wizzit turned off the screen. "Wizzit, does Shelley know about this?"
"Bill has been with her for the past two hours," Wizzit replied. "and I notified him as soon as the first news reports started coming out."
Mike shook his head. "You know they're going to use this to try to put more pressure on her. Can we talk to her?"
"Sure, I'll patch you in through Bill's belt." There was a pause. "Shelley, this is Wizzit. The others have just come back from a mission and would like to talk to you about those news reports we discussed."
"Oh. Um, okay. Hi, guys. Wizzit told us about the raid, and Black and I have been talking about what to do. Listen, Red, I'm really worried about my mom and Francesca. I bet they were scared stiff, having everybody come in in the middle of the night like that."
"We'll check on 'em for you," Mike promised.
"Thanks. That would be a load off my mind. If you could go yourself, Red, that would be best; my mother really likes you. If you can't go, then send Blue. He's a US citizen, so if he's caught without a passport, it won't be a big deal. And besides, I think Francesca has a little bit of a crush on him."
"One of us will go, Shelley," I said with a chuckle. Trina, catching my eye, gave me a wink.
"Now, we're sure that it was the stronghouse they found, right?" she asked. When Wizzit confirmed that it was, Shelley went on, "In that case, we know the blood is Lily's, so it won't match anything belonging to my father. We're safe there unless they try to manufacture evidence of some sort. It will just have to remain an unsolved puzzle for them."
"Wizzit," Nicolai asked, "what was the powder they found? Do you know?"
"It was the remains of the microsensor package that Shelley and Red installed there. I self-destructed it as soon as I became aware of their efforts to break in."
Nicolai nodde
d. "That's what I thought. They should find out pretty quickly that it is not cocaine, but they shouldn't be able to find out any more than that."
"Good." I heard Shelley heave a sigh of relief. "So, aside from frightening my mother and sister half to death, this was a non-event. We've got nothing additional to worry about."
"It bothered me, though, the way they were telling lies about you," Padma said. "I mean, they said you were a high school dropout. That's not true, is it?"
"No, it's not," Shelley said, "although I understand why they might say that. My dad pulled me out of junior high when I became a Prime, but there's a tradition in the States that says a child can be taught at home by his or her parents. That's what they did with me. I was homeschooled, and I attended a graduation ceremony and have a high school diploma and everything. But a lie that easy to disprove is nothing to worry about."
Toby said, "Yeah, well, they also called you the 'accused leader' of the Primes, as if being Prime Red were some sort of crime."
"That's a little more worrying," Shelley agreed soberly. "But unless we can think of some way to counteract that sort of propaganda, we'll just have to let it go, I guess."
"How are you doing, Shelley?" Trina suddenly asked, concerned. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm . . . I'm okay. Things are rough, but I'm basically okay."
"Tell them the truth," Bill said, his voice sounding angry. "Guys, they waterboarded her today."
"Oh, damn!" Pamda said softly.
"I'm sorry, Shelley," Trina murmured.
"Guys, I'm okay!" Shelley insisted. "Really. Look, we expected this to happen sooner or later; I was prepared for it. It was . . ." Her voice caught. I thought I heard something like a sob, and she was silent for a few seconds, but when she resumed, her voice was as strong as ever. "It was pretty bad while it was going on, but I survived, and I'm going to be all right."
"You gave them the names, right?" Mike asked anxiously.
"Yeah. I held out until I couldn't take it any more, and then I broke down and fed them every name on the list."
"Good." He sounded relieved. "Listen, Shelley, you don't have to be a hero about this. The names don't mean anything. You can give 'em up sooner."
"Red, these guys know that I used to be Prime Red. They know I'm plenty tough. If I don't hold out, they won't believe it when I do finally break down."
"I will start preparing the next list of names and addresses for you to memorize," Nicolai said. "The last list contained the names of sons and daughters of various United States senators. Next we will compile a list of . . ." He smiled. ". . . nursing home residents in Boise, Idaho."
Shelley laughed, a sound that warmed my heart considerably. "That's great. You're the best, Yellow."
Toby said softly, "Shelley, are you sure you don't want us to yank you? Wizzit could pull you out of there the second you asked for it."
This time, Shelley's laugh had a near-hysterical ring to it. "Don't tempt me like that, Green. You guys have no idea how much I wish I was there with you. But . . . no. We have to do this the right way. We have to force them to release me and drop any and all charges, and do it in a public manner. Otherwise I'd be a fugitive for the rest of my life, and you guys wouldn't be much better off."
"I hate to interrupt," Wizzit said, "but Black needs to leave immediately. Your guards are on their way, Shelley, probably so your interrogators can give you the latest news. Go to your neutral corner. I am switching their surveillance cam to live feed in ten seconds."
"All right," Bill said. "Remember your gum, Shelley. And . . ." He hesitated, perhaps because he knew we were listening in. ". . . I love you."
"I love you, too, Black," she whispered.
There was a soundless flash of light as Wizzit teleported Bill back to HQ.