The Ascension: A Super Human Clash (6 page)

ROZ WOKE UP IN DARKNESS, to a gentle rocking sensation. Her body was completely numb and she couldn't speak.

Then a woman's voice said, “Hold still, Rosalyn…. This will help you to recover.” There was a brief, sharp hiss, and almost instantly she could feel sensation returning to her limbs.

“I can't see,” Roz said. She tried to raise her hands toward her head, but something was holding them down.

“Sorry, I had to restrain you so you wouldn't remove the blindfold. One of the side effects of Cataxia is extreme light sensitivity. It'll pass in a few moments, but if direct light were to hit your eyes now, you'd have a splitting headache for the next week.”

Roz felt a gloved hand gently patting hers. “I know you feel wretched now, but you'll be OK soon enough. You gave us quite a scare, you know, disappearing like that. We didn't know you could
do
that. I hope you understand that my men were very disoriented after their trip. They wouldn't have fired at you if they'd recognized you.”

There was the sound of Velcro straps being opened, then Roz could move her arms and legs. “Who are
you
?”

“Agent Amandine Paquette,” the woman said, “chief of the Manhattan Praetorian Division. We've met before, at one of Max's social gatherings. We spoke for only a couple of minutes.”

“I need to see him!”

“We're taking you to him now.” Agent Paquette paused. “I have to ask…Your teleportation…Was it deliberate?”

“Uh, no. I don't know how it happened. Never happened before.”

“That's what we thought. Max said the same thing. He was with the development team in Louisiana when he suddenly just disappeared and reappeared here in Manhattan. Either it's an incredible coincidence or the machine itself triggered a latent ability in both of you. Close your eyes. I'm going to remove the blindfold.”

Roz felt the thick cloth being removed from her face, then the woman said, “All right, you should be fine now. You can open your eyes.”

Roz winced at the sudden burst of light, and it took her a couple of seconds before the jumble of blurry images coalesced into one. She was inside some sort of gently swaying vehicle, lying on her back, and a young woman in a black uniform was standing over her.

“Now do you recognize me?” Agent Paquette asked.

Roz wanted to tell the agent that they'd met dozens of times. Paquette was practically her brother's girlfriend.
Can't say that
, Roz thought.
Whatever's going on here, I can't let her know how much things have changed.
Roz nodded. “Yes, of course. Mandy, isn't it?”

The agent smiled. “No one's called me that in
years
. How are you feeling? Any nausea? Dizziness? Do you think you might need to throw up?”

“No, I'm OK, I think.” Roz sat up, stretched to pull the stiffness out of her limbs. “Max is all right?”

“So I'm told. Teleported all the way from Louisiana to Manhattan. That I can understand, sort of. But you…That's a complete mystery, Rosalyn. There's no reason it should have happened to you too. We'll need to run an investigation into this.” She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “The Chancellor's going to want a
full
report.”

“The Chancellor?”

Agent Paquette nodded. “He was very concerned, but I can understand his reaction—I know how close he is to your family.”

“I'm sorry, maybe it's a side effect of the knockout drug, but I don't know what you mean.”

“He's your brother's best friend, Rosalyn.” She reached out and placed her hand on Roz's forehead. “Your temperature seems normal…. You're sure you're not feeling sick?”

Roz gently pushed the agent's hand away. “I'm OK. Just tell me about the Chancellor.”

“He and Max worked together…. You
know
this, Rosalyn! They reconstructed the government, set up the country's defenses. If it wasn't for them, America would have fallen to its enemies a long time ago. But we're prospering now, we're stronger than we've been in a hundred years. And it's all thanks to your brother and Chancellor Krodin.”

The name struck Roz like an electric shock. She collapsed to the floor, her stomach heaving. Clear bile spilled from her mouth. Then she felt Agent Paquette's hand patting her gently on the shoulder, heard the woman's voice say, “You're OK, Rosalyn. You'll be fine. It's just the Cataxia. The Chancellor's going to want to see you himself, I think. You know how fond he is of you and your brothers. You're practically the only family he has.”

 

Lance spent the next hour wandering through the house, looking at things, picking them up and putting them down again. He knew that his parents thought there was something wrong with him, but he didn't care. Somehow they were alive again.

And so was Krodin.

The past has been changed.
At first, he thought that perhaps Pyrokine's blast had sent Krodin back to his own time, but he quickly realized that couldn't be the case: If Krodin had ruled for a further four-and-a-half-thousand years, the world would be a lot different. As it was, the differences—so far—were relatively small.

On the sitting-room shelves he found a few books and movies he'd never seen before, none of which were more than five years old.

In his bedroom, Lance flicked through his schoolbooks. It appeared that in this world he was a more conscientious student than he had been back home: His notebooks showed that he had made considerable effort to complete the work. They also showed a reasonably high level of concentration—for the most part his notes were neat and concise. Lance was more used to seeing his notebooks filled with barely coherent notes and hundreds of half-finished doodles.

His social studies textbook was the most unsettling. There was a whole chapter on Krodin's rise to power, and it was heavily biased toward presenting the Chancellor as a loyal citizen who wanted nothing more than to see his country “reclaim its rightful place in the world.”

The photos of Krodin showed a tall, well-built man wearing an ordinary black suit. His hair had been cut short, and his beard neatly trimmed. But his eyes were the same: they had a look of dark animal cunning and strength.

So Krodin was sent back in time five or six years. Without anyone to stand against him, he worked his way into a position of power. Or maybe he just
fought
his way to the top.

Lance realized that his mother was calling him. “Coming!”

He went down to the kitchen, where he found his parents giving him the “now you're in trouble” look.

“So you lied to us,” his father said. “Again. There was no fire drill. Your principal just phoned. You didn't show up for chemistry. And they found your backpack just lying in the middle of the corridor. So what happened?”

“I think I have that bug that's been going around.” Lance felt that he was probably on safe ground with that excuse: There was
always
a bug going around. “I didn't want to say anything because I
knew
you wouldn't believe me.”

“You don't look sick,” his mother said, her eyes narrow with suspicion. “What are your symptoms?”

“I feel a bit queasy. Kinda dizzy too. I didn't mean to leave school—I just wanted to get some fresh air. Then I couldn't face going back in so I came home.”

His father said, “So you just
walked
home? How'd you get out of the school? No, don't tell me—I don't think I want to know. Look, you can't do things like that, Lance.” He held up his hand with his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “As it is you're
this
close to getting conscripted! Or don't you remember what happened last month? They would have taken you right then if you hadn't promised to keep your head down and really put the work in.”

Lance didn't like the sound of that. “OK. I'll go back. I do feel a little better now anyway.”

His mother removed a small booklet from the cupboard next to the fridge, flipped open the cover, and began to fill in a form. “You have to go straight to the principal's office,” she said. “Apologize for walking out and tell them whatever they need to hear to make sure they don't report you.” She tore off the top sheet and handed it to him.

Lance took a quick look at the form before he folded it and stuffed it into his pocket. It was titled “Emergency Curfew Violation.” His mother had signed and dated it, and in the section marked “Reason for Violation” she had written “Unexpected illness (temporary).”

What is going on in this place?
Lance wondered.
Conscription, curfews, America on the edge of war? What mad universe
is
this?

As he turned to leave, something on the television caught his attention. He walked over to it and turned up the sound.

“Lance!” his mother warned.

“Yeah, hold on a second…. I have to see this.”

On the screen was a grainy photograph of a blue-skinned man who was more than twice the height of an ordinary human. The newscaster's voice was saying, “…reports that the creature somehow appeared in the middle of the prison's main building. The Oak Grove prison is not equipped to deal with superhuman prisoners, and the guards were unable to prevent the creature from smashing its way through the walls and escaping into the countryside.”

So it's not just me
, Lance thought.
The same thing happened to Brawn. And we're both connected to Krodin. Maybe it happened to
all
of us.

He turned to face his parents. “Sorry. We're doing a report on the superhumans in school. Anyway. I'd better get going.”

When he reached the kitchen door, he turned back. “Dad? How far is Oak Grove from here?”

 

Abby had spent the past hour listening to Solomon Cord spinning lies to her mother about who he was and what he was doing in Midway. Cord had told her he was Jason Myers, an inspector for the school board. “If you are talking to anyone from Abigail's school,” he'd told her, “please don't mention I was here. Fact is I'm also checking up on them. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask
you
some questions.”

At first Mrs. de Luyando had been only too happy to answer anything Cord asked, and by careful manipulation he was able to build a better picture of how the world had changed. But now she was becoming suspicious. “Are you investigating me too, is that it, Mr. Myers?”

“Not at all. No, I just have a few questions, nothing too personal. So, Vienna is the eldest, then Abigail, then…?”

“Tyler and James, they're eight. Twins. And then Stefan and Elvis. They're seven. Also twins.”

Cord smiled. “Two sets of twins? Must be quite a handful!”

“At times, yes.” Mrs. de Luyando didn't return the smile.

She's not buying this
, Abby thought.

“And their father…?” Cord asked.

“He's gone, Mr. Myers. I'm sure that's all in your files. He had an affair and I threw him out. Does that answer your question?”

Whoa…
Abby sat back.
Dad had an
affair?
She never told me that!

“Has he been providing any form of regular child supp—”

The phone rang and Abby jumped up. “I'll get it!” She raced out to the hall and picked up the handset. “Hello?”

A man's voice said, “Abigail de Luyando?”

“Who's calling?”

“Just tell me—are you Abigail de Luyando?”

“Who wants to know?”

“This is Max. The real Max. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yeah, I think I do. So it happened to you too?”

There was a sigh of relief. “The whole world has changed, and from what I can tell, the only ones who know about it are you, me, Roz, Paragon, and Brawn. Roz is being brought to me now. It's likely that the same thing has happened to Thunder and Lance McKendrick. Thunder lives near you, right?”

“A couple of miles away. But I don't know the exact address, or his real name.”

“That doesn't matter. If you get close enough to him, he'll hear you calling him. Take Paragon and go find him, then the three of you find somewhere safe and keep out of sight. Roz and I will figure out a way to get to you.”

“What about Brawn and Lance?”

“Brawn could be a problem. He's gone to ground, but it won't be long before they catch him. As for Lance…Last I heard he'd also gone on the run. We've no way of knowing where he was when the change happened. And he's not a superhuman, Abby. We don't have the time to go hunting for him.”

“But he—”

Dalton interrupted her. “Cord was supposed to be meeting you today. Is he still there?”

“Yeah, he's here.”

“Get him.”

“OK, but—”

“Just do what you're told, Abby!” Max roared. “Get him on the phone right
now
!”

 

James Klaus was still more than thirty miles from Midway when he was spotted by an army patrol.

As he traveled, he'd been using his powers to listen to the patrols. So far, he'd managed to avoid being seen by taking detours and hiding when necessary, but this time he was out of luck.

From what he had overheard, in this world traffic control was stricter than he'd ever imagined. Unless it was absolutely unavoidable, almost no one was allowed to use the highways or other national roads at night or between nine in the morning and five in the evening. This was supposed to be a security measure: The entire country was permanently in a state of high alert.

He was on a long straight stretch of road—a road he didn't remember ever seeing before on his many trips to the farm—when he heard a vehicle coming up from behind. It was still two miles behind him, but the new road offered no cover on either side, and its slight downward slope didn't give him much of a boost on the skateboard.