TOUCH | Part 5

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BANG!

The shot caused everyone in the trailer to jump back. One of the children started crying. Sean took two steps back, standing in front of the group as the doors swung open.

“Everyone stay calm,” Betty said as she stepped up from the ground to the entrance of the trailer. “We’re going to…”

Betty trailed off when she saw Sean. She cocked her head.

“Didn’t I shoot you?” she asked.

Sean nodded. “Three times.”

Betty shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things happen. Everyone out.”

Betty waved at the refugees with her handgun. They shuffled out slowly, Farhad and Daria supporting two of the older women. Paul stood out in the snow, holding a black baton loosely at his side. His police cap was coated in snow.

“You know,” Sean said, pointing at the cap, “Bayfield police officers don’t even wear hats like that. Where’d you get it?”

Paul swung the baton into Sean’s face. It connected with a crunch, knocking Sean to the ground. Paul wiped the baton on the snow, leaving behind a slick of red.

“If you’re so good at healing,” Paul said, “I can hit that smart-aleck mouth as many times as I want. See how many teeth you gotta lose before you shut up.”

Sean stood, smearing the blood on his face with a handful of snow. He spat out a tooth, then grinned at Paul. No missing teeth. Paul moved to swing again, but Betty grabbed his arm.

“Calm down,” she hissed. “We’re not out of this yet.” She grabbed a radio from her belt and held it up. “We got them. Extraction point three.”

Extraction point? What was she talking about?

“Copy that,” came a voice through the radio. “Touchdown in twenty.”

Betty nodded to Paul, who ushered the refugees into the woods, away from the road. If Sean remembered correctly, they were heading east, towards the water. Were they taking a boat? The water would be at least partially frozen after the storm.

Sean fell into step beside Farhad near the front of the group. Ahead of them, Daria walked with one of the older women, speaking quietly to her in their language.

“Why do they want you?” Sean whispered.

“Not us,” Farhad said. He nodded to Daria. “Her.”

“Why?”

Farhad snorted. “You are stubborn even for an American. It is not yours to know.”

Sean shrugged. “Maybe not. But if I know why they’re doing this, it’ll make it easier for me to stop them.”

“You?” Farhad smiled. “You are a brave one, and you have very useful gifts. But you are only one young man working against some very powerful forces. I do not wish to see you killed.”

“They tried that already,” Sean said, motioning to his chest.

In the afternoon sunlight, only partially obscured by the clouds, Farhad saw the bloodstained holes in Sean’s shirt. He raised his eyebrows.

“Fine,” Farhad said. “I will tell you that Daria has sensitive information that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. She is the daughter of a nuclear engineer in the Iranian nuclear program.”

Sean nodded. “So she’s got some secrets in her head.”

“Some?” Farhad shook his head. “All of them. She memorized every document, every note on her father’s computer. She, too, has a useful gift.”

Sean whistled, which drew Betty’s attention from the front of the group. She glared back at him for a moment, then carried on, tromping through the snow.

“If we run,” Farhad said softly, “we die. They only want her. We are an insurance policy.”

“Then we try something different,” Sean said. He slowed his pace, letting Farhad and the rest of the refugees walk ahead of him. A hundred feet away, sunlight glinted off of the icy surface of Chequamegon Bay. He was running out of time.

At the back of the group, Paul was watching Sean carefully. He frowned as Sean approached and started walking beside him.

“I’m assuming you found Edwin?” Sean asked.

Paul grunted. Sean took that as a no. It was time to gamble.

“Shame,” Sean said. “He could have told you.”

Sean continued walking in silence, ignoring Paul’s confused stare. The stocky man looked away for several seconds, scanning the horizon as they broke free of the tree line and began to walk north along the coast. Sean held his breath.

“Told me what?” Paul asked gruffly.

Sean bit his lip to keep from smiling. The fish took the bait.

“About your partner,” Sean said. “Or his partner. Depending on how you look at it.”

“Hurry up!” Betty called back. “The helicopter will be there in ten minutes.”

Paul quickened his pace, urging the refugees forward. Farhad shot a quizzical look back at Sean, who ignored him. He had to focus on Paul.

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen Edwin yet,” Sean said. “He was still at the truck when you and Betty arrived.” It was true enough.

“You heard the lady,” Paul said. “Keep moving.”

“Then why did she tell you he wasn’t there?” Sean wondered aloud. Then his eyed widened as if he’d suddenly made sense of it all. “Ah. At first I thought you three were all working together. But maybe it was just Betty and…never mind. Sorry.”

Sean clamped his mouth shut to let Paul process the idea. There was the tiniest rift between Betty and Paul. The confident boss and the grumbling employee. Sean didn’t have super strength, but he knew all about dysfunction, and a few words could unravel this relationship without putting the refugees in danger.

“You’re lying,” Paul said finally. “Betty told the truth.”

Paul’s resistance was weakening. So Sean pushed harder.

“Then how did I get locked in the trailer?” he asked.

That did it. Paul was stumped now. The man’s lips moved faintly, as if he were arguing with himself. But when your enemy was down, you didn’t let him stumble to his feet. You went in for the kill.

“Edwin promised me a cut,” Sean whispered, leaning in close. “He said he’d get his partner to shoot me with rubber bullets so you’d think I was dead. Come on, you actually believe I have superpowers?”

Paul ground his teeth as he faced Sean. “Why are you telling me?” he hissed.

“Because I got in over my head,” Sean said, “and I want out. Stop Betty. Do what you have to do, then get out of here. I don’t want a cut. I just want to go back to my life.”

Paul shoved Sean forward with one hand, guiding him through the refugees as they pushed their way through the snow. Across the bay, Sean noticed a tiny black dot approaching from the sky. The helicopter was coming.

Betty turned back as Paul and Sean reached the front of the group. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Stay at the back.”

“No thanks,” Paul said. Then he shoved her.

Betty fell into a snowdrift, and Paul dove on top of her, scrambling for her gun. Sean urged the rest of the refugees away, back to the trees, as Paul and Betty grappled for the pistol. Paul fought like a brawler, all fists and knees, but Betty was surprisingly strong. When Paul grabbed the gun, Betty wrenched his wrist back, pried the weapon from his fingers, and kicked him in the gut. When he tried to stand, Betty leveled the gun and fired.

BANG! The shot echoed across the bay. Sound carried for miles out here, especially now that the storm had passed on. Sean’s plan had worked.

As Paul yelled in pain and grasped his thigh, which now featured a smoking dime-sized hole, Betty froze. She now knew what Sean had realized back at the trailer, when she had shot the lock. With the storm gone, nothing would mask the sound of a gunshot. Especially not when the police – the real police – were likely out looking for Sean.

I can’t get anyone out there for an hour, the text had read. Sean knew it had been at least two.

Then sirens wailed from beyond the trees, and Sean smiled.

“Give it up,” Sean said. “The police are on their way. You’re done.”

Betty snarled and holstered her weapon. Paul was groaning on the ground as he pressed the hem of his jacket onto his wound, blood soaking through. The rest of the refugees had retreated back into the woods, towards the sirens.

“How…” Betty didn’t finish the question. She looked up at the approaching helicopter. It was making a wide arc over the bay, turning back towards the Canadian border. Betty ripped the radio from her belt.

“Where are you going?” she yelled, spit flying from her mouth.

“Too much attention,” the voice said. “You’re on your own.”

The helicopter faded into the clouds. Betty stood in the snow, seething wordlessly at the teenager in the ruined T-shirt and the short man with a hole in his thigh until the Bayfield police swarmed the scene a minute later.

Sean turned back to the woods as the officers put Paul and Betty in handcuffs. One problem down. One to go.

~

The YOUNG HEROES GUILD is an anthology of untold stories from children and teenagers with superhuman abilities. Subscribe for new chapters and send your story suggestions to [email protected].