The Sovereign Era (Book 2): Pilgrimage (38 page)

Understand that I don’t really care what people wear, most of the time. It made an impression on me then because I knew what he and I had both been doing the night before.

No one would see this guy, who, no kidding, looked practically presidential, and think, “I bet he tortured an old man a few hours ago, and liked it.”

Except for most of the people in the front row.

We knew.

It could be said that this wasn’t the time or place for judgment. And even if it was, who the hell was I to cast stones?

I’m thinking about it now, though. So I wrote it down.

He didn’t appear to have a speech prepared. He looked out at us all, pausing briefly to make eye contact with Denver, my mother, and me, and got to it.

“Today, as we begin the second year under our Declaration of Sovereignty and freedom from oppression, it is with deep regret that we gather together to honor two that have fallen. And, it is with great admiration and respect that we recognize that one of those we honor today was not a Sovereign.

“Andrew Robert Charters was a human being with an extraordinary mind and a loving heart, made more than human by the hand of man. He should have been a Sovereign. I name him one today.”

Extraordinary mind? Sure. From what I understand, my dad was one of the scientists that made the augmentation regimen possible. The fact that he used it on himself makes no sense, but, whatever.

Loving heart? How in the fuck would Donner know? I looked at my mother to see her reaction to all of this, but she was staring at nothing, apparently deep in thought. I couldn’t tell if she’d heard any of it.

And posthumously declaring Andrew Charters a Sovereign? That was bullshit. Sorry. My dad wanted to have as little to do with the Sovereigns as possible. The only reason he was even here was because of me.

“Andrew stood up to the forces that, even two decades ago, had gathered to persecute the people I would one day declare Sovereign. In his defiance, he made a choice that changed him forever. A choice that his brave son carries as legacy.”

I felt people’s eyes on me. I didn’t like being a celebrity among Sovereigns any more than I did anywhere else. I was irritated.

“Finally, even though Andrew Charters never asked for the life he lived, he rose to that challenge and, in the end, sacrificed himself in the struggle against the same antagonists that made him the unique person he was.

“May he rest well.”

The bullshit was just too thick.

My father was not a Sovereign hero, and fuck Donner for turning his death into an excuse to spout his particular brand of bullshit. The only thing my dad had in common with this band of freaks was that he wanted to be left alone. Donner wouldn’t even let him have that in death.

Also: my dad didn’t sacrifice himself for shit. He was standing around trying not to freak out, and Lou Uldare shot him in the chest. To death. The end.

I had enough. I got up and walked back to my apartment.

From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Thirty Seven

By the time I got back to my room, I felt kind of stupid. Yeah, Donner was a jackass, but the people at the Institute, the normal Sovereigns, had all been totally cool to me. I worried they’d be offended by my stomping off in the middle of their beloved leader’s speech.

Turned out it was no big deal. None of those people knew me or my dad. Later, my mother told me later everyone assumed I was too broken-up to stick around.

“I almost went with you.” She was never one to suffer through politicians’ lies and propaganda.

Of course, that was pretty much why I’d been so pissed off at her for the past year. She’d lied to me about my dad my whole life. Way to model grown-up behavior, mom.

After everything else that had happened in the past few days, all of that didn’t matter too much to me anymore. It was just one more example of how the world was. I was too tired to make a big deal of it. I decided to adjust my expectations. Move on.

When she asked to go with me while Doctor Mazmanian and his team ran their tests and drew my blood and scraped my skin and put me through their machines and what not, I didn’t really care. Having some company didn’t suck.

But when Mazmanian called me in late Sunday afternoon to give me the results, I told her to please wait outside.

I liked Mazmanian. He wasn’t a Sovereign, so that was points in his favor right off the bat. He was also super down to earth and funny in the way that people who try too hard to be funny are, if that makes sense. He reminded me of my friend Mel, if Mel had a big bald spot and a bushy mustache.

I went into his office and closed the door behind me.

Mazmanian sat behind his desk. He had a white lab coat on, with a stethoscope draped around his neck, like a TV doctor. He grinned. “Sorry about all the poking and prodding today. Sit down, sit down.”

I sat down. “It’s okay. It’s the whole reason I wanted to come here.”

Unspoken: people died so I could sit here and hear this news.

His eyes narrowed. He blinked and nodded. I think he got it.

“Well. Let’s see if I can get you your money’s worth.” He flipped through a file folder on his desk. “Here’s the deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to worry about ending up like your dad.”

I wanted to be relieved, but it sounded a little too simple. “But…how do you know?”

He tapped the file. “The results. Plus, I know stuff.” He smiled. “I’ll make you a copy of all this, then you go off and get a few doctorates so you can understand it, too. Sound good?”

“C’mon…”

He held up his hand. “I’m just being an ass. The movie-of-the-week version is that Andrew Charters had greatness thrust upon him, and you…you were born great.”

He picked up a pen and bounced the point on the desk a couple times. He looked thoughtful.

“No disrespect to your dad, but his mind simply couldn’t handle the input it received. Not without repurposing important parts to pick up the slack.”

I nodded. “Like the sane parts.”

“Like the rational parts. Sure. But you…I mean, you know this; you’re custom-built, and you were from the beginning, from conception, cell by cell. You don’t have a problem with your…what did you call it, earlier today? Your sensorium?”

I shook my head. “Yeah. I know. That part…I like it.”

“No reason why you shouldn’t. I like being ambidextrous. It’s just who we are.”

“But I get so
angry
,” I said. “I mean, like, literally seeing-red angry…and when that happens, all I want to do is…you know…”

“Get rage-y. Yeah. I know.”

“Like him.”

Mazmanian smiled and shook his head. “Not like him. Trust me.”

“Well, then…what’s going on with me? Why do I get like that? I mean, it’s…people…I’ve…”

“Easy, champ. I’m getting to that. You’re probably not going to like it.”

That focused me but quick.

“Okay. Just tell me.”

“Nate,” he said, “you’re a teenager.”

“So?”

“So, that’s it.” He shrugged. “You’re a teenager. Like any teenager, you’ve got hormones pumping through your brain like never before in your life. Everything’s intense. Right?”

“I don’t know.”

He chuckled. “I guess you wouldn’t. You have no frame of reference. Trust me on this.”

I shook my head. “But I’m, like, you know.” This guy did a full physical on me—and I mean full—a few hours ago, but I still felt a little embarrassed. “I’m, um, fully developed, and stuff.”

“Sure, mostly. You’re not done growing—I’m betting you’ve got another inch to go. Your bones, your musculature…even though you’re already stronger than most grown men, I don’t think you’re done there, either.” He smiled. “Things are still finding their level with you, Nathan. Hence, the intense anger. Intense everything.”

It sunk in.

“So…I’m not crazy. And I’m not gonna get crazy.”

“Not because of your genetics, no.” He closed the file. “What you are, though, is a kid going through normal puberty with a full range of metahuman, potentially dangerous abilities.”

He scratched his nose and casually pointed at me. “It’s like you’re learning how to shoot, but you’re knocking down bottles and cans with a howitzer instead of a BB gun.” He seemed pleased with that, then looked more serious.

“You want to watch that. Until things level out.”

I felt really heavy. I knew I’d cry if I wasn’t careful.

“Too late,” I said.

His mouth turned down and he nodded. “I know. I heard. You know you could have sanctuary here, until that’s all worked out. Those people, that woman…they were all committing about a million crimes.”

“Yeah.” I stood up and held out my hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He stood up and we shook. “Get what you came for?”

“I guess so. Thanks again.”

I left him in his office and found my mother.

“Well?”

“I know what I needed to know,” I said. “And what has to happen next.”

And then, bang: there it was. I broke down, hard. She put her arms around me, and for the first time in a long time, I let her be my mother.

After a while, when I could make a noise that wasn’t keening or sobbing, I choked out, “I need to go home, Mom.”

Byron Teslowski – Nine

Byron, Haze, and Marc took a slow walk around the grounds of the Institute Sunday afternoon before a driver would take Marc down to the airport.

It was a tour, of sorts, and it made it easy for the two men to keep their conversation at a safe, superficial level. It helped having Haze there as a buffer.

They almost reached the courtyard in front of the apartment building, nearly completing a full circuit, and the conversation had wound down to a not-quite comfortable silence.

Marc broke it. “So. I guess you like it here. Have all along, huh?”

Byron glanced at Haze, who raised her eyebrows and gave him what he took to be an encouraging shrug.

“I guess so,” Byron said carefully. “I mean, it’s kind of like being away for college. Some stuff sucks.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the motives of his fellow Sovereigns. Especially the ones in charge. “Some stuff’s really cool.”

Marc looked straight ahead as they walked. He grinned slightly. “Gets you away from your old man for a while, at least, right?”

A single, loud, laugh burst from Byron. He stopped walking. His dad and Haze took a few more steps, stopped, and looked back.

His dad’s grin was not quite a smile now. “What?”

“Fuck, Dad.” Byron remembered a time when he would have been terrified to use that kind of language with him. Things had changed. “Way to, like, oversimplify things.”

They looked at each other. Byron’s dad laughed a little.

“That’s what I thought.”

They resumed their walk, Byron and Haze a little way behind Marc.

Haze elbowed Byron and mouthed, “Do it.”

Byron took a deep breath and matched pace with his father.

“So, uh, I was, like, thinking…maybe in a couple of weeks, y’know, if things are mellow here and everything…I was thinking I might come down for a visit.”

Byron saw the corner of Marc’s mouth twitch. Marc kept his eyes on the path. “Your mother, she’d like that.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He sucked on his lips to keep his own expression as close to neutral as his dad’s. “Cool.”

They reached the courtyard.

Byron’s dad turned to him. He looked him up and down.

“Looks like you turned out all right, Byron,” he said.

Byron felt Haze slip her hand into his. He grabbed hold. Her fingers were warm. His chest felt like it would burst.

“Likewise, Dad.”

From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Thirty Eight

It was my idea to meet in a public place on Tuesday. It was Lina’s idea that it be Romita Park. I felt lucky she’d agreed to meet at all.

Everything else was set. The only thing left to do was talk to Lina.

I walked to the park after telling my mother to give it forty-five minutes before she came to get me. I asked her to park by the curb and honk.

Lina’s car was already there.

My hands shook. I couldn’t quell the ache in my chest no matter how many deep breaths I took. There was nothing left to do but walk up the slope and into the park.

She was half-sitting, half-leaning on a molded-plastic picnic table near the monkey bars. She wore her old denim jacket over her Japan T-shirt, which was tucked into a tartan miniskirt. Eighteen-hole Doc Martens on her feet. Black leggings.

It was almost exactly what she’d worn on our first date. She had to have planned it.

I didn’t know what it meant.

She saw me coming. Her left hand rose and fell.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

I stopped a few paces away when the breeze delivered her perfect Lina scent to my nostrils.

“Wow.”

She frowned. “What?”

She smelled so good.

I was going to miss her.

“It’s good to see you,” I said.

I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to hug. She didn’t make a move in that direction, so I crossed my arms on my chest, decided that looked too much like I was all closed off, and settled for hanging my thumbs off the belt tabs of my jeans.

She nodded. “Are you okay?”

“I dunno. Now, or in general, or—?”

“In general,” she said. “Now. I don’t know.”

I shrugged. “I’m getting there, I think. Planning to be?” My mouth twisted, rueful. “What about you?”

“Fine.” She lifted herself to fully sit on the top of the picnic table and patted the plastic next to her. “You can sit here. It’s…I’m not mad at you.”

I sat down. The plastic was cold through my jeans, but that was nothing compared to how awkward and weird it felt being next to her. The last time we were this close, we were screaming at each other, and I pushed her, and she fell.

“You should be,” I said. “I’m really, really sorry, Lina. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

“Okay. I know.”

The apology didn’t make anything different. I still felt like there was a million miles in the inches between us.

I didn’t know what to say. I stared at the ground.

I fretted that it would be a long wait for my mother to get there if neither one of us said another word. But Lina said, “You were there? When your dad…”