The Push Chronicles (Book 1): Indomitable (19 page)

The doctors were shocked at my rapid recovery.  I didn’t bounce back as fast as, say, any of my powered friends, but I was on my feet before the end of the next week.  Frankly, it looked like the most lasting damage would be to my hair.  That flame gout had crisped more than a bit of my shoulder-length locks, so the doctors had it efficiently but crudely chopped into a short mop.  Otherwise, I was amazingly sore, but functional.   It was on the first day I was allowed to walk outside of the hospital that I found out one small detail my friends had failed to warn me about.

It was innocent enough at first and, frankly, it all came down to my own decision to keep the mask on.  It seemed like a smart idea.  After all, Duane and Rachel had gone through so much trouble to keep my identity hidden so it made sense to keep it that way, even if it would be pretty anonymous to take it off for a walk.  I could have blamed my poor decision on the last of the pain-killers in my system, but that would have been an excuse.  I honestly didn’t think the mask would bring on what it did.

I had been lucky that my legs had been relatively undamaged despite the insanity of the last week.  It had felt so good to finally stretch them with a good walk.  I still felt quite weak; the most life-threatening condition I had when I arrived at the hospital was, to the doctors’ shock, acute malnutrition.  They didn't know the cause but I was all too aware of the cause.  With that weakness in mind, I still thought it was easily in my power to take a walk around the block, nothing drastic.

At first, it was a pleasant afternoon stroll.  Little by little though, people began to cast glances at me.  Well, I was a woman walking around in a mask, which was pretty weird, even after the Whiteout.  I didn’t give off that pulse the Pushed did, so I doubted they would think I was one of them.

Still, I continued on, trying to ignore the obvious clues around me.  Furtive glances led to whispers, which in turn led to pointing, which culminated with a little pig-tailed girl, no more than eight, who walked right up to me as her mother was calling for a taxi.  She looked up at me through thick, square-framed glasses.

“Wow!” she gasped.  “You really are Indomitable!  You’re my favorite.”  I was shocked speechless.  The girl looked back at her mother.

“Momma!  It’s Indomitable!”  Without waiting for her mother’s response, Pig-tail dug out a little notebook from her coat pocket and a stub of a pencil.“Can I have your autograph?”

I found myself responding to the girl on auto-pilot, taking the pen and inscribing my alter-ego’s name.  I tried to figure out what the hell was going on, but I had no way to be prepared for this.  Me, who had been ready to throw her life away facing unthinkable destructive forces, was just not ready to be popular.

The girl’s cry seemed to break the wall holding back other passers-by and I found myself surrounded by people shouting my name, yelling questions, holding out paper and pencils.  I even received some rather naughty requests of where I could put my autograph.  It was by far the most bewildering and terrifying experience that week had brought.

I didn’t want to be a role-model or an idol or a leader.  Somehow, though, I was now all of those things.  We had won, sure, but I had gotten nothing of what I wanted and now had everything I didn’t want.  Somewhere, I told myself, Eric was probably laughing his ass off at me.

Chapter 21 Cycle

It was a hot, sultry Atlanta night, the kind of weather no sane person would be caught in leather motorcycle gear, no matter how customized it was.  Of course, I wasn’t sure anymore if I was the last sane woman on the planet or the only crazy one.  Either way, over the past week back home, I was starting to enjoy these evening jaunts.

To be honest, I was even starting to enjoy the suit; it meant something to people.  I ran my gloved hands through my newly-styled faux hawk hair; I hadn’t had much choice after the mess the doctors made.  I sighed, alone with my thoughts, as I leaned against the roof’s ledge and gazed out over the twinkling lights of the city.

After the Battle of Washington, as they had decided to call it, the President had decided to peel back some of the more stringent restrictions on the country.  The curfew was over and more leeway was offered to police and courts in dealing with Push crimes.  Congress rapidly pushed through a new bill, the Pushed Regulation and Rights Act.

The PRRA was a mixed blessing.  While it reaffirmed basic human rights for the Pushed, it also was explicit in pointing out, correctly I was sad to agree, that Push powers were the equivalent of lethal weapons more deadly than firearms.  Therefore, the Pushed were ordered to register their powers with the federal government, just like gun owners registered their guns, to be administered by a new department, the Department of Push Administration.  While that clause was instantly tangled in legal actions and government red tape, the states moved much quicker with state-level DPA equivalents already forming from legislation rammed through state houses across the nation.

People were still afraid though, no matter how much the government tried to reassure them.  They didn’t go out much at night anymore, even now that they could do so.  The media treated the Pushed more as hot button topics for pundits to argue about instead of rock stars in the making.

Though Epic was still considered a hero, some tarnish had been splattered on his shining image.  He was held up as an example of either progress or chaos by the political extreme and the morally uncertain and viewed with suspicion by the majority of the populace.  Of course, in that kind of popularity vacuum, basic science demanded that it be filled by something.  Of course, that something was me.

“Daydreaming, Doc?” Brooks said into my ear.  “I hate to interrupt, fearless leader, but there’s another report of Push crime at Underground.  Everyone else is busy following that lead in Savannah so it’s all you.”  Duane found the pedestal I was placed on to be endless amounts of fun.

“Initial reports seem to indicate someone with matter manipulation powers has a real problem with soft drink companies,” Choi added dryly.  “Watch out for exploding soda cans, apparently every one of them in this kid’s wake is blowing apart.  Twenty serious injuries at least, no confirmed fatalities.”

“Right, here I go,” I said into the whisper-mic.  I was lucky, really.  Despite being the public poster child for the Pushed People movement (the name was very much not my idea), Duane and Rachel’s deal kept me mostly independent, while the FBI’s inter-agency rivalries maintained my anonymity.  The Atlanta Five weren’t as lucky.

They did what they thought was best though, volunteering to be the first group officially registered with the DPA.  While not officially a member, they all still looked to me to be leader. I frowned slightly at the uncomfortable thought, then made to hop down the fire escape to my bike.

I stopped the moment I felt the clench in my gut and the gooseflesh ripple on the back of my neck.  It was him.  It had to be.

“Hold on, guys,” I said.  “Switching off the audio a moment.”  Duane shouted something, but I cut him off as I clicked off the mic and receiver.  Overhead, a streak of white light mimicked a shooting star, then abruptly turned and arced down to the rooftop.  It was Epic.  It was funny, I didn’t think of him as Eric Flynn any more, even though I saw Eric inside of that shell every time we ran into each other.  That man was gone to me.

“I am not here to fight.”  His arms were upraised as he hovered towards me.  “Irene, I –“

“It’s Indomitable,” I retorted.  “You don’t have the right to call me that name anymore.”  The demigod’s expression flinched, but he continued.

“I simply wish to tell you: these setbacks do not mean anything.”  He opened his arms out to the city below, coming up beside me at the ledge.  “My calculations are still viable.  It will simply be a slower process.  Already, peace is starting to return.”

“Right.”  My sarcasm was not veiled in the least.  “Your peace is sending more people to the hospital by the minute while you blather at me.”

“All good things take time, I see that now.”  Epic seemed impassive to my comment.  I don’t even know that he heard it.  “Indomitable, just make sure, when the time comes and my Crusade moves, do not be in the way.  No matter how you profess to feel about me, I know I still care for you.”

“Epic, when that time comes, you better get a lot of practice at saying ‘I surrender’.”  I shot a glare at him.  “Whatever stunt you try to pull, I’m going to be right there, to stop you from hurting and killing innocent people.  That’s what zealots like you do, after all.”

“Do as you wish; you always do.“  He gazed out over the city, looking thoughtful for a long moment.

”Oh, I do look forward to all of this.  You move, I counter-move.  I thrust, you parry.  I have a feeling we will be doing this for a long time, my dear.”  He finished with something that made me pause.  “You do know, I have already won the game, no matter how many of my pieces you take.”  He started to drift away.

“What the hell?” I barked at him.  “What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”  He rotated to face me once more, still drifting up and away with increasing speed.  “I won the moment you finally agreed to play the game.”

Epic sped out of sight like a blazing comet.  I wanted to scream at him as he flew away, to shout curses, to argue down his points.  I couldn’t.  How could I?  He was right.  I could feel sudden, surprising tears coming on, but I bit down on them.  I wouldn’t give him the pleasure.  Instead I leaped down, sprinting to my motorcycle, finding succor in the act of saving lives.

I couldn’t shake his words though.  I wanted to break the cycle of violence and fear by ending it at its source.  Instead I felt I was a part of the system now, a cog in the machine.

What could I do though?  Each day I was trapped by the same choice:  Try to find the means to end the Whiteout or try to save as many lives as I could.  Stopping the Whiteout was no sure thing, certainly not any more, but if it could be stopped, so many lives would be spared.  Every moment I spent trying to find the answers I needed to stop it, though, countless lives were in danger from my purposeful ignorance of the threats I could stop.

If it wasn’t Pushcrooks, it was Epic and his Crusaders.  If it wasn’t them, it was trying to hunt down Ian Mackenzie before he struck again.  If it wasn’t any of that, it was the looming threat of a government that still didn’t trust any of the Pushed, good or bad.

As I rode into the night, more empowered than I ever had been in my life, beloved by millions, trusted with the fate of so many people’s lives, I felt like the lowest human being to have ever lived.

About the Author

J. B. Garner was born in Baltimore, MD on December 1, 1976, the youngest of three children. While still young, the family moved to Peachtree City, GA. His parents always encouraged his creative side and J. B. began writing and drawing from an early age. Though considered talented by his teachers, he never fully applied himself and bounced through high school and into college at the Georgia Institute of Technology. During his freshman year, his father died suddenly.

Grief and lack of purpose caused J. B. to drop out of school. If not for a few close friends, he might have dropped out of life as well. Taken in by his friends and given a second chance, J. B. matured, applied himself, and finally, after over a decade of hard work, is now back to doing what he loves the most: writing.

His writing passions include science fiction, fantasy, pro wrestling and superhero literature.  His first book,
Indomitable
, is what you are reading right now.

Feel free to get in touch with him via e-mail (
[email protected]
) or at his deviantArt page (
http://megatarget.deviantart.com/
).

Discover other titles by J. B. Garner

The Push Chronicles

Indomitable

Indefatigable (Late 2014)

Incorruptible (2015)

Three Seconds to Legend

The Opening Bell

The Tale of the Tape (Late 2014)

The Twelfth Labor (2015)