The Indestructibles (Book 4): Like A Comet (3 page)

Chapter
3:

Parents
and children

Emily sat in the living room in Billy's
parents' home, knitting her replacement replica Fourth Doctor's scarf. She found
the process a bit Zen, with the repetitive motions, the way it consumed time,
but she was also out of practice and she kept screwing up, dropping a stitch here
and there and having to undo a lot of her work. She'd given her original scarf
to Anachronism Annie when the notorious time traveler went back into the dark,
alternate future the Indestuctibles had tried to save a few weeks before, and
she'd felt good about that—Emily didn't, by nature, give gifts very often—but
had she realized she was going to have to make herself a new one, she might
have just as easily given Annie a gift certificate to Apollo's Coffee or
something.

      Speaking of not sharing well,
Emily also found herself shooting daggers at notorious dog-hogger Billy Case,
who had Watson curled up on his lap as he talked with his parents. Ma and Pa
Case, or as Emily called them, Al and Lori, looked worried. They tended to appear
this way whenever Billy came to visit, because Billy—lacking a certain amount
of skill lying to his own parents—came around to visit more often when he
thought he might get killed on a mission for the team. It was, in Emily's
opinion, the worst, most upsetting, and yet strangely hilarious "tell"
she'd ever seen in another human being.

      "So you really can't give us
a hint about anything that's going on?" Billy's mother said.

      "Is it classified or
something?" his father said.

      "No," Billy said,
scratching Watson behind the ear. Emily also noticed that Billy employed the
dog as a small child would while hugging a teddy bear, a source of tactile
comfort when he worried.

      I can read you like a book, Billy
Case, Emily thought, before catching yet another dropped stitch in her scarf
and backtracking to undo the mistake.

      "So once again, you've come
by with the goal of making us worry like crazy people about you," Lori
said.

      "I… pretty much. Yeah, that's
accurate," Billy said. "And I have a favor to ask."

      "Whatever you're doing, you
can't borrow the car," Al said. Lori shot him a look of motherly worry
that was so annoyed Emily had to bite her lip to not laugh at it. "What?
It's either crack a joke or start pacing, Lor. I went with the joke to save the
finish on the floors."

      "What do you need us to do?"
Lori said, turning her full attention to her son.

      "If anything happens, I was
hoping we could leave Watson here with you," Billy said.

      "Hey!" Emily said,
chiming in. "If you… do a thing… like… and can't keep Watson, I get full
custody."

      "And you might be doing some
other thing that makes taking care of him really difficult, because you're also
a superhero," Billy said.

      "Can't argue with that,"
Emily said, returning to her knitting.

      "You really think something's
going to happen where you won't be able to take care of him?" Lori said.

      "Can I make a joke about how we
always knew if we got a dog I'd be the one who had to walk him?" Al said.

      Lori repeated her look of intense
exasperation. "You realize this is where he gets the smart mouth thing,"
Lori said.

      "The ability to offer jokes
in the face of adversity and terror is a sign of intelligence, darlin',"
Al said. He turned his attention back to his son. "We'll keep an eye on
your dog if you need us to, of course."

      "We talked about getting a
dog instead of having you when we first got married," Lori said.

      "And you've regretted it ever
since," Billy said.

      "Well, you
were
harder
to potty train," Lori said.

      "And he gets those smart
mouth traits from me?" Al said.

      Billy rummaged around in his pockets,
pulled out a card, and handed it to his mom.

      "And if things get really bad
out there, I want you to call that number," Billy said. "That's Sam
Barren's direct line at the Department of What."

      "The Department of What,"
his father said, incredulous.

      "It's a long story,"
Billy said. "If you need help, he'll send people to come get you. Promise
me you'll call if anything happens."

      "Well I'm past the point of
fighting off anxiety with humor," Al said. "What's really going on,
Billy?"

      Billy threw his hands up in the
air. "Hopefully nothing. I'm just being careful because I might not be
close enough to come get you myself," he said.

      "And by close enough, you
mean…" Lori said.

      "I may, in fact, be in outer
space," Billy said.

      "Way to keep a lid on your
top secret mission, Billy Case," Emily said.

      "You texted your mom ten
minutes after we found out about this, don't judge me," Billy said.

      Lori turned her attention to
Emily.

      "Your mom have a card for
this Sam Barren, Department of When, Where, and Why too?" Lori said.

      "My mom can fly. She's got
things covered," Emily said.

      "Melinda can fly?" Lori
said.

      "Just blew your mother's
secret identity, Em," Billy said.

      "Are you kidding?" Emily
said. "I already told her to check on your folks if things get bad! They
were going to find out anyway."

      "Melinda… can fly?" Lori
repeated.

      "I had pretty much the exact
same reaction when I found out, Mrs. Case," Emily said. Her phone chirped.
She set aside her knitting to answer and said, "Talk to me."

      "Billy with you?" Jane said.

      "Is he ever not?" Emily
said.

      "Fine. Come back to the base.
We'll patch Titus and Kate in from the road and get them caught up."

      "Roger roger. On our way.
Over and out," Emily said. "Hey Billy, time to make your PowerPoint
presentation."

      "I don't really want to,"
Billy said.

      "Well, I don't really want to
knit a ten-foot long scarf by hand a second time, but we all have things we'd
rather not do," Emily said.

      "Does my son really have to
prepare a PowerPoint presentation?" Lori said.

      "Nah," Emily said. "I'm
just being metaphorical."

      "I was going to say, I don't
think he knows how to work PowerPoint," Lori said.

      "Thanks for the votes of
confidence, everyone," Billy said. "We have to go now, Em?"

      "Her majesty says chop chop,"
Emily said.

      Billy stood up, letting Watson
jump to the floor. He looked at Emily.

      "I'll bring him back if we
need to," Emily said. "Right?"

      "Right," Al said. "We'll
be waiting. The Department of Who info will be taped on the fridge."

      Billy pointed at his father, his
face almost comically serious.

      "You call them."

      "We will," his dad said.

      "You promise."

      "Promise," Al said. "What's
got you so worked up? What's happening, an alien invasion or something?"

      Billy and Emily shot each other
identical horrified expressions.

      "We're going to be late!"
Emily said, grabbing Billy by the arm and dragging him and the dog out the
front door. "It was good to see you Mr. and Mrs. Case! We'll be back again
soon!"

      Emily bubble-of-floated all of
them into the air before Billy had a chance to answer. Dragged off the ground,
he waved to his parents and scooped up Watson—who had become bizarrely
comfortable when floating with Emily—into the crook of his arm.

      "Well, now they know we're
being invaded by aliens," Billy said.

      "I think it's time to admit
neither one of us can lie," Emily said.

      "There are worse things,"
Billy said, watching his family home grow tiny on the ground below.

Chapter
4:

The
mission is go

A well-dressed woman sat alone at a
table at an outdoor café in Seville. Large sunglasses covered her face, a
floral scarf hid her close-cropped, dark hair. She sipped a short glass of
beer, golden in the warm sunlight, and drank in the smell of orange blossoms.
Sometimes, she thought, it almost became possible to forget how many people
wanted her dead, how many enemies she had, and all the many ways her life and
career had gone wrong.

      Her legs crossed, her elevated
foot rocking rhythmically, she watched families walking by pushing strollers,
small children in button-up shirts eating little cups of ice cream with tiny
spoons, school girls dressed in classic uniforms scurrying home from class. She
wouldn't stay here long. She never did. Movement remained the key to her
survival, she knew. But this place, the orange blossoms, the crowds, the old
buildings blending Christian and Muslim and Jewish architectures in elegant
displays… this place could be home, if she gave it half a chance.

      But people like her never get to
go home. It's the choices we make, she thought, and the actions we perform.

      Her phone rang, a soft classical
tune. She looked at it, wondering who might have the number. It was a burner
phone, a temporary device to be discarded once it outlived its usefulness. But
then again, the people who knew her, both allies and enemies, had ways of
finding a temporary cell phone number if they needed her.

      She answered.

      "
Hola
," she said.
"
Quien es?
"

      "No need to pretend, agent,"
the voice on the other end of the phone said. "Don't worry. You're among
friends."

      "I have no friends," the
woman said in American-accented English.

      "With skills such as yours,
you'll always have friends," the voice said. "We remember the good
work you did for us."

      "So you're a client,"
she said.

      "Your very best client,"
the voice said. "We told you we would need you again someday."

      The woman sighed, sipped her beer
again, and gazed at the humanity passing around her. This had been nice for a
little while, she thought, allowing herself a few more moments to muse on the
illusion of a different life. I wish I'd had more time.

      "What do you need?" the
woman said, her tone becoming more formal and business-like. If you're going to
take my peace away from me, she thought, it had best be for a good reason.

      "We told you when you worked
for us before that your job was to stockpile the best human weapons you could
find," the voice said.

      "Well, that didn't end well,"
she said.

      "To the contrary, madam, your
work invigorated the right people. It moved a new generation of super humans to
action. You played the foil perfectly. And you got them prepared."

      "It would have been nice to
know that was the plan from the beginning," she said. "I might have
played the game differently."

      "We apologize. But we had our
reasons for keeping it close to the vest."

      The woman stood up, leaving twice
the cost of her beer in cash on the tabletop, and drained her glass before
placing it on top of the Euros. She scanned the crowd for anyone who might be
watching her. Seeing no one, she moved away. Though unarmed, she was far from
defenseless. She possessed powers herself and knew how to use them to deadly
effect.

      "So what's your game now?"
she asked, slinging her bag tightly across her chest in the event she had to
start running.

      "Our worst fears have been
realized," the voice said. "The most terrible thing that has ever
happened to our world is on its way."

      "Why are you telling me this?
I'm a little short on miracles here."

      The voice on the other end of the
line laughed.

      "Oh, but my dear, you know
where all the miracles are buried. That's what we paid you to do all those
years, wasn't it?"

      The woman stopped, the phone still
pressed to her ear, and stared at an expensive black car that hadn't been there
moments before. She waited for enforcers to step out and grab her, but they
never did.

      "That car is empty. The keys
are in the ignition. You'll find travel papers in the glove box," the
voice said.

      "I'm perfectly capable of
getting my own papers, thank you," the woman said.

      "Just trying to save you
time. You do have a lot of work to do."

      "And what type of work is
that, exactly?" she asked, taking off her sunglasses and opening the car
door.

      "Welcome to the side of the
angels, my dear," the voice said.

      "My fee structure hasn't
changed. I don't care if I'm working for Heaven itself," she said.

      "And we'd not have it any
other way," the voice said.

      The woman slammed the car door and
drove away, heading for the nearest airport.