She gave me a dark look. “Shut up, Bringer.”
What had gotten into her all of the sudden?
“Look, you know as well as I do, I didn’t show Prichard half of what I can do,” I said. “And she can come knocking on my door anytime. I don’t have any interest in the CIA. Besides, their agency’s mission is based
outside
of the US, not
inside
.”
She exhaled with exasperation as her fingers pecked across her keyboard.
“So, what’s next on our agenda?” I asked.
She stopped typing.
“
Our
agenda?”
I could tell by her expression I wasn’t her favorite person at the moment.
“I’m going to file some reports based upon
our
latest exploits. Then I plan to research what we know in conjunction with additional clues being provided by our lab and forensic teams. And I’m still waiting on updates from the team investigating loose ends back in Chicago and the team following Justine Ziska in New York,” she explained. “None of which involves throwing objects around the room, setting fires to buildings, or causing general havoc or mayhem.”
“I get the impression you’re annoyed with me right now,” I said.
She glared back at me.
“I could help out with those reports,” I offered.
“Not likely. Unlike you, they’re official. Besides, I think we could both use a little time out, Bringer,” she said. “Take a few hours off. Maybe go home and catch up on some sleep. The investigators are finished with your house, so it’s all yours again. I’ll call you later in the afternoon.”
“Fine with me,” I said with a shrug.
I glanced at my watch, realizing that it was already mid-morning.
I’d barely made it halfway across the room when Sanders called, “And, Bringer…try to stay out of trouble for just a couple of hours.”
I winked and gave her a half-salute.
“I’ll be a model citizen.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she retorted and returned her attention to her computer screen.
Chapter 15
Fortunately, the ever-appealing Agent Lana Collins offered to drop me off at my hotel to check out of my room and pick up my car. I confess, I found the attractive agent to be of more than just a passing interest. And I didn’t have to be a mind reader to tell that she seemed at least mildly curious about me.
Still, I thanked her and let her drive away without either of us saying anything further.
I could only imagine how pleased Sanders would be with me if I’d actually asked Collins for a date; not that Sanders would mind on her own account.
Or would she?
Mere seconds of wily contemplation took place before banishing those thoughts into the farthest recesses of my mind. I had more pressing matters of immediate concern.
Upon returning to my house, I straightened up the overturned furniture and made some sense out of the chaos. The process was relatively benign enough for me to contemplate everything that had happened during the past few days.
Eventually, my thoughts gravitated back to Nevada and my newfound ability to hold fire at bay with my shielding talent. I recalled the fire that hovered above my hands following that feat, and it made me wonder if I could duplicate the effect.
I opened my palm and willed fire to appear.
Nothing.
Back to work.
Two hours later, the house was relatively passable. Meaning, of course, my sister would only give me hell, rather than faint straight away, if she saw my home’s present state. Mom, on the other hand, might not have been so forgiving. Both had razzed me for years about my bachelor habits.
Housecleaning aside, and more importantly in my mind, I was no closer to duplicating the “hands on fire” event that had taken place in Henderson, Nevada.
That’s when the closest person I had to a technical consultant came to mind.
Maria
.
* * *
I called Maria before heading over to her house. She’d been home only a few hours, and I felt guilty for imposing upon her, but I couldn’t help feeling that I needed to master as many useful abilities as possible for what might still lie ahead.
When I pulled into her driveway, I was happy to find a police car parked on the street with an officer in it. I showed him my FBI VIP badge, and he cleared my entry with another officer who was apparently inside the house.
I was happy the authorities were taking Maria’s security seriously.
The imposing female corporal who met me at the front door looked as if she could easily hold her own.
As soon as I crossed the threshold, Maria practically leapt into my arms. Her slim body felt so frail that I held her like a china doll. The officer discreetly slipped outside, pulling the front door shut behind her.
“Thank you again, Logan,” she breathed into my ear.
I closed my eyes and held her close, thankful that we’d found her in time. The warm, satisfied sensation flooding through me made me feel like the second-greatest man in the world.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Maria’s daughter, Lauren, peeking at me from the hallway. I smiled at her and she grinned back at me before retreating down the hall. More than saving Maria, I’d reunited a mother with her children.
“I can never repay you for saving me,” Maria whispered.
“No need. However, if it’s not too much of an imposition, I
could
use your help,” I softly suggested.
She pulled out of our embrace and looked into my eyes. Her telltale smirk and arched brow spoke volumes.
“I haven’t known you long, but I already recognize that look. Let’s go sit down on the couch, hero,” she suggested.
She was the second person that week to call me hero. Even jokingly, I wished I’d felt more deserving of the moniker.
Within the hour, I’d explained everything that had happened, as well as described what I was trying to accomplish.
She held my right hand in both of hers and caressed my palm with her fingertips.
“Logan, I think you might be looking at this all wrong,” she said. “You need to stop trying to mentally force everything into happening. Like with your shield ability, you just need to try and
let
it happen as you concentrate.”
I clenched my jaw.
That’s what I’ve been trying to do, for Christ’s sake.
“You don’t understand,” I tried to explain. “It doesn’t feel the same when I try making fire.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Wait,” she said.
I fell silent and watched as she stared at my hand, as if she was studying it.
“Did you try concentrating on the feeling that you felt in your hand?”
“The feeling?” I asked.
“Yes. You told me it was like a prickling feeling in your hands when you shielded the fire,” she said.
I thought about it for a moment.
“Like a numbing sensation,” I said.
She nodded.
I held my palm open before me and intently stared at it, trying to think about the fire and the feelings that I had felt.
“Close your eyes,” she said.
“What?”
“Don’t look,” she explained. “Just concentrate on the feeling.”
I closed my eyes and focused on recreating the feeling that I remembered from the experience. I felt a strange sensation go through my arm, so I continued to focus on thoughts of fire and the subsequent numbness.
After a few minutes, I was convinced that my hand was mimicking the desired sensations.
Maria softly ordered, “Logan, keep concentrating, but open your eyes.”
I slowly opened my eyes and was surprised to see flames licking upward an inch or so above my palm. The numb, tingling sensations cascaded through my hand and across the skin of my palm.
“That’s just flaming wonderful,” I muttered as I rapidly waved my hand to extinguish the flames.
She giggled as I duplicated the flame-generating effort a number of times. It seemed to become easier with each instance.
“Now, Logan, find someplace private to practice some more,” she said. “Just try not to burn down your house in the process.”
I gratefully pressed a quick kiss on her cheek before leaving.
* * *
Though in jest, Maria had offered some excellent advice to me about practicing, and I had a pretty good idea for a reasonable setting to hone both my current and newfound abilities. While Nevis Corners seemed to exist in a state of continued new construction, it was at a much smaller scale and slower pace than during its inception a decade prior. That left a number of dormant material supply sites just outside of town where large quantities of sand, dirt, and gravel had been staged.
As I stood in the midst of heaping mounds of dirt and sand that had compressed into dense berms over time, I appreciated the relative quiet around me. The sounds of birds and breezes whipping across untamed grasses and through nearby native oak, elm, and maple trees sounded uncannily soothing.
It was perfect.
I retrieved a litany of empty plastic containers from my car trunk, and mentally congratulated myself for recalling the drop-off location for the city’s recycling program. Then I closed my eyes and concentrated on duplicating the flame generation technique that Maria had just helped me to manifest.
I marveled at the continuously licking flames and willed them to build. Fire rose as the tingling sensations in my palm increased and sweat beaded on my forehead.
Oh, this was
good
.
After I extinguished the flames, I held out my palm toward a nearby pile of gravel. A few pieces flew into my hand. I shifted all but one to my other hand and concentrated on projecting a single piece toward one of the plastic bottles placed before a nearby mound of compressed sand.
Though I missed the target, I came very close. I was reminded of how, as a youth, I’d practiced with the 22 caliber rifle that my father had given me for my birthday. My aim had been remarkably similar. Yet, by the time that I had enlisted in the army many years later, I’d been certified as a marksman.
I just needed more practice.
Within the hour, my aim had significantly improved. I rubbed my temples where a slight headache had started to build. While sipping from yet another chilled sports drink container that I’d brought in a cooler, I contemplated a host of concerns.
My sister and her family, as well as Maria, were safe for the moment, but I had no idea how long that might last as long as Continuance Corporation still had its sights on me.
Then there was the simple issue of income. My boss, Larry, had been really great about granting me another leave of absence. However, my savings was already running pretty thin, and in a few weeks I’d be hard-pressed to continue paying my bills.
And it wasn’t as if the FBI had the intention of placing me on their payroll, either. Worse yet, who knew how long the bureau’s investigations might take before Continuance’s operations were able to be shut down, if ever.
I held my hand out for a nearby chunk of gravel mixed with concrete, and used my talent to cast it off into the distance toward an empty plastic jug.
It missed the target by mere inches, though the impact kicked up a considerable shower of sand.
“Where the hell is my life headed now?” I wondered aloud.
After high school, I’d thought that a career in the army was my destiny. Then after two tours in the Middle East, I determined that I’d had enough of that. That had been more about day-to-day survival and less about developing a career.
I’d hoped that completing my degree in business administration might open up opportunities in places like Nevis Corners. It seemed as if half the country was counting on these new corporate-sponsored cities as a panacea for stimulating employment in the country. Of course, few if any, of the politicians and government officials who’d enthusiastically supported the land reclamation legislation spoke openly about the growing urban blight in many old, traditional cities as they were abandoned by corporations for their shiny, new replacements.
It seemed to be the darkly-tinged yin and yang of progress; the elephant in the room that nobody wanted to talk about.
Then my cancer diagnosis came along, and life was merely about surviving again.
With my cancer in remission, I needed to get my life back on track again. The GI Bill had helped to support me financially while working part-time at the tag agency. In the end, it was probably my best bet to return to college and acquire a graduate degree. The GI Bill benefits would help to stabilize my financial situation, as well.
Regrettably, my recently acquired skill set was dubiously crafted for any traditional career opportunities.
I sardonically pondered if any nearby circuses were hiring new talent. Better yet, how did I feel about becoming an assassin or a heavy for some crime syndicate?
Then my thoughts drifted back to more immediate problems. For example, the continued safety of my family was of preeminent importance.