Ignited (20 page)

But she was human, and she wasn’t perfect. She never would be, no matter how hard her father pushed her. She’d lied because she’d been scared of what would happen if she told the truth, and now she saw how right she had been to be afraid. And how she felt for Henry—it was so much, and so fast, but it was also so
right
. He didn’t feel like an accident in her life. He felt like the one for her.

Ruth frowned at the rusting bucket that was still sitting, abandoned, on the floor. Her father had given her a pot in which to do her business, like she was some kind of animal.

That’s not godly,
she thought to herself. She flinched automatically, but no lightning bolt came to strike her down, so she took a deep breath. She wasn’t a demon. She knew that. She had done what she could to be a good, pious girl her whole life. She’d tried so hard, and yet her father had never once acknowledged that. He only saw her faults, never her strengths.

For the first time in a very long time, Ruth allowed herself to feel her anger. It manifested inside of her, a fire in her belly that grew and seeped throughout her veins, settling just below her skin.

She hadn’t asked for these powers. She didn’t deserve to be locked in her room. This wasn’t Christian love—this wasn’t the God she had grown up loving, who watched over his children and loved them unconditionally. This was pain and torment. Ruth glared at the door. Her father wasn’t a man of God. He was
insane
.

And if she stayed here, she would never escape him.

Ruth pushed herself to her feet. Her knees felt like water, unsteady, but she forced herself to the window. She pried at the boards, but they were all nailed too securely. There would be no getting them separated from the pane. At least, not by using her strength.

Fear made her body electric, and she hesitated. There was no way of telling if this would work—she had never practiced anything like this, and even if it all went according to the plan she was cooking up in her head, she couldn’t be sure she’d be able to
stop.

But there wasn’t another choice. She refused to die. She would live the life she wanted.

Reaching out, Ruth let the fire seep from her veins into her hands. The flames burned hot, and she held them against the wood covering her window. They smoldered under her touch, catching fire and charring. The fire spread farther and farther over the boards, growing unwieldy, licking at her wallpaper. As the paper started to curl, Ruth rushed to the glass of water and threw it against the flames. They sputtered and disappeared.

The charring weakened the boards—not totally, but enough. Ruth pulled the burned pieces, ripping them down as best she could, her nails tearing. Five minutes work gave her a space big enough that she could conceivably wriggle through it. The wood lay in a smoking pile on the carpet.

The window itself was still movable. It looked like her father hadn’t planned on her being able to get through that particular obstacle. She slid it open as quietly as possible and maneuvered the screen out of the way, dropping it by the pile of wood. She hoisted herself up and tried to squeeze through.

The wood proved harder to get by than she had imagined. As she forced her way through, her leg caught on a jagged edge. She gasped as she felt the gash open across her calf, but she had to keep going. Her father could come back at any minute, and if he caught her, she would never be able to do something like this again.

As soon as her feet touched the grass below her window, she took off, flying away from her prison.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Henry

Henry stalked into town after work, only pausing on his way out the door to say goodnight to Mrs. McClure and Patrice. His grandfather had headed to his apartment upstairs an hour earlier to rest before changing for dinner. He hadn’t said a word to Henry, and Henry hadn’t said a word in return. The silence between them was chilly, and the entire office had felt it all afternoon.

He was not going to that damn dinner.

Something was happening with his grandfather. He had been willfully blind to it as long as he possibly could, but it just wasn’t feasible anymore. Dr. Pinkerton had secrets, and he was willing to work himself near-to-death to keep Henry from finding out what they were. For a man who had never kept anything from Henry, his reluctance and lack of communication were worrisome. Just what was he up to that he felt it was too much to risk Henry’s safety?

Thinking about it too much made Henry’s stomach turn.

He couldn’t look at his grandfather right now, couldn’t sit across from him at a table and play happy family. Couldn’t pretend to be the dutiful son to his cold mother. Not tonight, not when something very serious was happening and Dr. Pinkerton’s actions were starting to look less and less justified and more and more suspicious.

He needed to distract himself from his family problems … and from the hours until he would meet up with Ruth.

Only two hours more until he saw her again, helped her escape. Ruth was most important right now, what he should be focusing on.

There wasn’t much in the way of food at home, he knew. He tended to time his grocery shopping so his food ran out on Wednesdays, that way he could have a big meal at his mother’s house without anything going bad at his own. Henry veered into the diner. It would be a good way to pass the time until seven o’clock. The summer sun was still high over Jubilation and Desolation, and though most places closed up early, the diner usually stayed open for most of the night. He could pop in, get something to eat, and kill time until he finally saw Ruth again.

It didn’t matter that it had only been hours, or that he should be putting distance between them. Every time he tried, Ruth broke through all his defenses just by being herself: strong and quietly resilient, bravely fighting everything she’d ever known so that she could have the chance to live. No matter how many times he told himself he needed to maintain a professional relationship with her, the second she was in front of him, his brain went quiet and no objection seemed valid.

The diner was a cheery place, most days. There were large windows and a counter with twirling stools, where people liked to share milkshakes with their sweethearts. The seating at the booths were covered in black vinyl. A jukebox in the corner played five songs for a dime.

Henry had spent many of his teenage years as a regular, he and his buddies horsing around, constantly feeding change into the jukebox so they could hear their favorite tunes again and again. It was busier than he expected for a Tuesday evening. Teens lined the counter, a few couples shared the booths, and a group of men sat in the corner, discussing things in low voices. Some were sitting in a booth, hands folded on the table top, and others were hovering around them, standing, pacing. A few men had drawn chairs away from other tables and sat tensely, leaning forward across their knees.

Not one of them was smiling or laughing. This was not a friendly outing.

Something about them tripped Henry’s internal alarm, and he took a seat near them. His new angle revealed a few familiar faces: Bo Erikson, a middle-aged patient of his grandfather’s; Jack Williams, whose wife was probably home alone with a colicky baby—
again
.

Bill Goodman.

Henry leaned toward their conversation without trying to be obvious. A waitress appeared to his right, brandishing a menu. Her name tag declared her to be Alice. “What’ll it be, hon?”

Henry ordered a cola and the first thing on the menu, just to get her to go away. He needed to hear what they were going to say.

“It ain’t right,” said Bo Erikson, shaking his head. “What them kids can do. It’s dangerous. We ought to call in the feds, or the army, or
something
. The army helped before, with the fog.”

“I’m headed out for work after this week,” Jed Gould cut in. He was a traveling salesman who was often on the road going door to door selling vacuums, but he’d spent the summer at home with his family. “Gonna try my luck in Denver, visit my brother. The phones haven’t been right since that fight. They’re off more than they’re on. Why don’t I contact one of the bases there, see if they can send someone up to you folks? You might have to wait, but—”

In the far corner, Brad Barton slapped his palm against the table. He was Henry’s age, but he carried himself like an old man, grizzled and always frowning. But being a newly-promoted police captain was a hard job, even in a small town like Independence Falls. It was bound to make a man tough.

“We don’t have time to wait for help! You saw what they did, what they’re capable of. We need to protect our wives and children, and we need to do it
now
,” Captain Barton spat out. “I know some of you have fallen in with that mad preacher—”

“He ain’t mad!” Jack Williams cut in, glaring. 

Captain Barton spoke over him. “I still say it was the Soviets. But whoever we think is at fault, I think we all agree we need to round them up until we figure out what to do with them.”

Henry’s blood ran cold. This man was a
cop
—he had a place to lock these people, if he really wanted. The police chief and mayor wouldn’t allow such an abuse of power, would they? But when he looked around the table, nearly all the men were nodding, eyes serious. If things got out of hand, they wouldn’t
need
the cooperation of the mayor and chief to do real harm.

Worst of all, even Bill looked intrigued. Kind, good-hearted Bill, who had bought his son a terrier puppy for his birthday, who kissed his wife good-bye every time he left the house.

If someone like Bill was being taken in, what did that say for the rest of the town?

It was so extreme, so crazy, and Henry couldn’t stop himself. He stood, moving to the outskirts of the cluster. He cleared his throat once, and then again to get everyone’s attention. They fell silent, staring at him, and Henry felt the pressure of their gazes. He took a deep breath. “Hi, sorry, but—you can’t just take people against their will when they’ve done nothing wrong. That’s kidnapping, for one, and—”

“It ain’t kidnapping if it’s to protect our lives!” Jack Williams insisted.

“No, it is.” The two men closest, neither of whom Henry recognized, started to look skeptical. Henry felt bolstered. “Captain Barton, you can’t be serious about this. It’s your duty to serve and protect all of Independence Falls’ citizens, not just the ones you agree with.”

Barton’s gaze was like ice, but Henry thought of Ruth, of her fear, and of how much courage it took for her to escape her father. He couldn’t let her do something so brave only to lead her into a lion’s den. People were going mad with fear, and they needed some clarity.

“They
have
done something. I’ve got one of them already in the jail cell to prove it. All you have to do is go outside to see the damage to the town square.” Barton’s voice was smooth, even as he glared. “That’s destruction of public property, disturbing the peace—”

“Maybe,” Henry conceded. “But is that why you’re talking about locking them up, or is it because you’re scared?”

“Scared?” Bo Erikson snorted. “No one is scared. We’re
mad
.”

There was a chorus of agreement behind him.

Henry ignored him. “Isolation and fear-mongering are not going to help things. This town is not a nice place to be right now. Everyone’s tense, everyone’s upset. But these are young men and women you’ve known your entire lives, not monsters. If we talk to them, work with them, maybe we can learn where their abilities come from, and then we can understand what’s happened to them.”

Bo Erikson was beet red in his corner, from embarrassment or anger it was hard to tell, but he was now part of the minority. The group of faces staring at Henry had turned friendlier. Some were even
nodding
. Henry felt his spirits lift. The people of Independence Falls were scared, yes, but that did not mean they would be unreasonable. They could figure this out.

“That was a fine speech,” Barton retorted, deadpan. “Look, fellas, I didn’t go to some fancy school like good ol’ Dr. Porter over there. I can’t throw a bunch of long words at you.” He pronounced this like education was something to be feared and hated, rather than an accomplishment. “But I know what’s right and what’s wrong, and protecting our families is
right
.”

Henry let out a huff of exasperation. “What do you plan to protect them
from
? Outside of Butch Murphy, who you said yourself is in jail at the moment, what have these kids done to any of you? The other people on his side all saw the light, admitted fault, and have been working to help the town recover. He was the only one with any real bad intention.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t say disturbing the peace. We all know that’s bullshit.”

No one said a word. Eyes shifted downward to the table tops. Henry knew he might be pressing his luck, but he had to do this. If Ruth could face her own fears so bravely, then he wanted to be part of helping create an environment in which she could be both herself and safe. It was important.

“What is happening here is clearly not natural,” Jack argued. “Preacher Baker says the fog was the work of God himself, weeding out the unrighteous, showing us the non-believers and the devil worshipers hiding among us.”

“A few years ago you would have sworn up and down that Preacher Baker was a hack,” Henry spat. “And just a few weeks ago, you were standing next to Bo and Butch when they practically attacked Ivan Sokolov because you suspected it was the Soviets!” He scrubbed at his face, feeling the exasperation seeping into his bones. Was he getting through to any of them? To Bill? 

“I’m the first to admit that not everyone affected is an upstanding citizen,” Henry said, trying to calm his voice. “But for the most part, these are good kids from good families. They’ve never been in trouble, never crossed anyone. There is a scientific explanation for what’s happening to them. But if we keep isolating them we’re going to push them away and never learn it!”