Not your backup, p.13
Not Your Backup, page 13
Emma pulls the hat down over her curls and adjusts her sunglasses. Bells painted flowers and designs on her face, enough to confuse any facial recognition software. It’s not quite as dramatic as the punk look with geometric shapes, but the flower aesthetic is common enough so that someone passing her by would merely think she’s following the trend.
Bells shifted to a taller version of himself; his face is more angular and a bit wider. It’s somewhat similar to his “Barry” persona, the face he used for so long at the Meta-Human Training center. Taking this form is second nature to him, and Emma spots him smiling at a reflection in a storefront. It’s not exactly like Barry, Bells told her, since he was sure Barry’s face was wanted. This guy is more freckled, with bright fiery orange-red hair, almost like Abby’s. It looks great contrasted with his dark skin.
“Cute. Who are you supposed to be?”
Bells winks at her. “Styx Kipling, gentleman detective. Now let’s go get ourselves some radio equipment so we can call Jess and Abby.”
After buying more food and water with their burner DEDs, they locate a hobby shop on the outskirts of town that sells electronic “junk.” It’s seen better days. The shelves overflow with glittering tech: holoprojectors and MonRobot parts and commtech and more.
“You sure they would have it here?”
“Let’s just keep browsing,” Emma says. “If they do have it, it wouldn’t be out,” she mutters. “Radios are pre-Collective tech, so the sale and distribution of them is illegal.”
“You kids need help finding anything?” An older man with thick glasses approaches, peering at them curiously. His nametag reads JORDAN and PRONOUNS: HE/HIS. Emma wonders if he lived through the time of the Disasters to see the country fall apart and a new one come together.
Bells shakes his head.
“Well, I’m Jordan, just give me a holler if you need me.”
Emma glances about the store and tries to get a quick sense of who Jordan is. Glasses mean he never opted for corrective surgery even when it was accessible through the North American Collective healthcare system. He runs this shop despite the more lucrative career options he could have taken, so clearly he’s passionate about electronic junk.
A few posters catch Emma’s eye. “Are these for sale?” Emma asks. The pre-Collective one with the laser swords was one of Jess’ favorites. A huge symbol is displayed over the door too; it looks handmade, but it’s familiar: red, almost a circle, but the arc has been cut into three distinct whorls.
“Not for sale.” Jordan folds his arms and follows her gaze to the symbol. “You a fan?”
“Yes,” Emma blurts out. There was a password among nerds like this. That’s how they found the first “Resistance.” “We’re—” she glances at Bells and jerks her head.
“Han shot first!” Bells announces brightly.
“Yes,” Emma says quickly. She hopes that’s right.
Jordan’s eyes crinkle up as he laughs. “Always good to meet more members of the Rebel Alliance!” he snorts. His demeanor goes from suspicious to friendly in an instant. “You all from outta town? Never seen you before in our bunker.”
Bells nods. “Yes, just traveling and visiting family, but, uh, I just miss it, you know?”
Emma tries for what she hopes is a conspiratorial eyebrow waggle. “I know there’s a vetting system—we have a very extensive one back home in our group—but you wouldn’t happen to have anything you can share?”
Jordan beckons her to the back of the shop. “C’mon, over here.” He pushes aside a circuit board on a shelf; behind it, there’s a disguised keypad. He taps out a code, and there’s a telltale click as the shelf swivels forward to reveal a flight of stairs. “Follow me!”
Emma raises her eyebrows. “What’s with all the hideouts underground?”
“Better than way, way above ground,” Bells mutters.
Emma pats him gingerly on the back; he’s probably thinking of the swaying walkways hundreds of feet up in the trees at the Meta-Human Training center.
They follow Jordan downstairs into another living space. It’s decorated with all sorts of paraphernalia: a broomstick hanging on a wall, elaborately painted and polished wooden sticks, a statue of a person in a strange black uniform, and a cape holding a laser sword.
“This is great,” Emma says, looking around. Jess would probably get a kick out of this. “You ever talk to other chapters?”
“Yeah, occasionally, to trade DVDs and such. Mark over in New Bright City is the only one with a Blu-Ray player, though.”
“Do you have a radio?” Bells asks.
“Yeah,” Jordan says proudly. “We’re piggybacking on several towers, got a really strong signal. Mark’s just barely in range.”
Emma whistles. If they can reach New Bright City in the Hopestar region, the Rockies are definitely within range. “Mind if we make a transmission?”
“Always happy to help a fellow geek,” Jordan says.
He gets them set up, and Emma scans the channels, looking for the familiar background music of The Gentleman Detective.
“You think they’ll be there?” Bells seems nervous. He grabs a chair and spins it around to sit in it backward. He runs his hands through his hair; Emma can tell he’s anxious. He’s losing some of his shift; his nose looks like his own now, and his freckles have disappeared.
“Wasn’t your hair red?” Jordan asks, narrowing his eyes. “Might be my old age, but I could have sworn…”
Bells shrugs, letting Jordan second-guess himself. Emma taps the microphone. “Hello? Anyone there? This is Emma. Bells and I are talking to you from Turner City.”
The episode keeps playing, and Bells frowns. “They might be out.”
Emma glances at Jordan. “What’s the date? Day of the week? And the time?”
Jordan looks even more curious, but he just tilts his head. “It’s two thirty-ish Friday…” he glances at his DED. “October second, 2124.”
Two-thirty every Wednesday was their usual call time. If anything, Emma knows Jess, and Jess would never break that habit, even if she hadn’t heard from Emma and Bells—especially since she hasn’t heard from them. Jess and Abby are probably worried sick. Emma imagines them camping out by the radio every week at the designated time, maybe more often.
Styx Kipling’s deep voice is their only company. “I’m on the case!”
“Soon everyone will know the truth,” Bells echoes. He gives Emma a look that says everything is going to be okay.
Jordan’s face scrunches up. “Okay, not to be rude, but actually, I am. I thought you said you were with the Resistance? And contacting the rest of your group? So this is a good show, don’t get me wrong, but you know it’s not illegal, not really grounds for good Rebel Alliance-type media.” He huffs. “I can’t believe I brought you kids into my secret lair and let you use my radio!”
He grabs the microphone, turns it away, and reaches to turn the radio off.
“Hey!” Emma says, more loudly than she meant to. They’ve come so far, and now to be pulled away at the last moment just isn’t fair. “We are just need to talk to the rest of our group!” Emma pleads. “It’s important!”
“The Gentleman Detective is standard for us to play on this channel when we’re using it,” Bells says, shrugging with an air of too-easy casualness. He gives Jordan a conspiratorial grin, as if he’s letting him in on a secret.
“Oh.” Jordan relaxes. He turns the microphone toward Bells.
Emma gives Bells a look. She’s seen him charm people before; she just doesn’t understand how he does it. He’s basically said the same thing she said, but what, nicer?
Bells shrugs, patting Jordan on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.” He turns the microphone, listening intently. “Hello?”
Nothing but the episode. Another minute goes by, and Emma gets more and more nervous. She listens as Kipling carries out his investigation; she’s heard the opening lines in his office multiple times, but they’ve never gotten past that part. Kipling leaves his office on a fast pursuit. Now there are the sounds of wheels speeding off and shouts as Kipling chases his suspects.
“Hello?” Emma says into the microphone. “Jess? Are you there?”
The sound of an explosion makes her jump, but Bells puts a steadying hand on her shoulder. “It’s just the show.”
Right. There’s nothing to worry about. Bells knows this episode inside and out.
Emma tries to keep her breath even as more explosions and loud clangs echo, somehow growing louder in the small space.
Bells sits up, startling her. “Wait a minute—”
“What? I thought you said it was part of the show!” Emma grabs Bells’ hand.
“The first explosion, yes. But…” Bells frowns.
Static crackles. And there’s the sound of another explosion and screams.
“So that’s—” Realization sinks in immediately. Emma gasps. “No! Jess! Abby! Mrs. Tran? Anyone?” Emma shouts over the line.
Jordan blinks. “What’s happening?”
Bells grabs the microphone and speaks quickly. “If anyone can hear this, please let us know you’re okay!”
There’s more noise, as if a cavern is collapsing. Emma imagines her friends struggling in the dirt and she hates feeling useless, hates not knowing what is happening.
Something clangs. A door, maybe?
“Emma!” Abby’s shout is a mixture of relief and panic. “Where are you?”
“What’s happening? Are you okay?”
“The Villain’s Guild is being attacked!”
Ch. 10…
Bells grips the microphone with his hands tightly. “By who—” he starts, but Abby just keeps talking.
“I think the Trans are handling it. I can’t tell who is attacking us, but it looks like new meta-humans in new costumes, or maybe the League added a bunch of heroes we haven’t heard of? But I could have sworn someone had Bellevue’s powers. But didn’t she pass away two years ago?” Abby’s words flow so breathlessly that Emma barely can parse what she’s saying.
“Slow down!” Emma finally manages to get a word in. She glances at Bells, who is wide-eyed. Abby seemed scattered before, and now, even during an attack, she’s rambling. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Jess and I were packing some stuff and were on our way out before the cavern collapsed, but I heard you, so I came in!” There’s shouting and the sound of muffled thuds, as if everything is falling apart. Despite all this, Abby starts chitchatting. “How are you? Where did you go? We couldn’t get any info out of Jess’ parents. They said they talked to Bells’ parents, and that you all just went off on a romantic road trip to visit his art school friends. Did you go find Christine? Where are you?”
Emma tries to gather her thoughts, if they have limited time, if everyone is evacuating before the entire headquarters collapses, she needs to convey all the vital information. Who knows when they’ll be able to connect again? “We’re safe. Bells and I are on our way to New Bright City. Can you meet us there?”
“New Bright City! Got it!” Abby confirms in a bright voice. “Jess! Hey, Jess!”
“Abby, what are you doing? This whole place is gonna blow we have to go!”
“It’s Emma and Bells!”
“What are you talking about? Why are you here anyway? We have to go, Abby, come on—”
“I heard—”
“Jess!” Emma cuts in.
“Emma?”
“Hey, we’re calling from Turner City,” Bells says.
Emma can picture the mixture of relief, panic, and confusion on Jess’ face. “Wow— you actually— hi— so good to hear from you, but we can’t stay, the whole cavern is gonna blow.”
“Got it,” Bells says. “Stay safe, meet us in—”
“—I don’t know where or how we’ll catch up, but my instinct says east, but I can—”
“That’s right,” Emma exhales. Jess will always know where they are, and she’ll be able to find them, no matter what. “We’ll be in the Hopestar region in three days—”
There’s another explosion and then only static.
Three days seem like an eternity. Bells is on edge; Emma is filled with pent-up frustration, anger, worry. They started this trip to New Bright City full of hope and the promise of adventure, now, they’re speeding there as quickly as they can, hoping for some news—any news—of their friends.
Part of her wants to throw caution to the wind and turn back to the Rockies and find them immediately, but without a reliable way to communicate they could be heading into a trap or miss meeting them entirely.
“If we only had just a few more seconds on that call,” Emma mutters, kicking over a rock while they wait for the car to charge. “Exact coordinates, or a meetup time, anything!”
Staring at the ground, Bells clenches and unclenches his fists.
“Jess and Abby and Brendan and, like, everybody—”
“Jess will be able to find us,” Bells says, looking into the distance, as if their friends might pop into view at any moment.
“I hate waiting,” Emma mutters. “I want to find them.”
“I know,” Bells says.
The safest bet is to keep to the plan, even if Emma hates how it makes her feel. They follow the pre-Collective map, charting a safe course past the Dead Lakes. The air is crisp and cold, and occasionally soft flurries of snow fall. The clothes they brought are suited to the Nevada desert, and the warm coats they wore in the Rockies are barely enough for the Northern regions in late fall. They spend the time waiting for the car to charge either cuddled up with each other or running laps around the car trying to coax warmth back into their limbs.
They cross into Hopestar abruptly, going from cold forests and rocky terrain to paved roads and brightly lit towns. They pause at a charging station, using the last of their burner DEDs to fuel the car.
Bells walks out of the convenience store, clutching his jacket to himself. He looks unusually solemn.
“Any news?” Emma asks.
Bells shakes his head. “You think they’re okay?”
“No news is good news,” Emma says, more to reassure herself than anything. “The League would have boasted about catching anyone from the Guild—”
“Most Wanted,” Bells offers. “Heinous supervillains.”
Emma snorts; they climb back in the car just as another vehicle pulls in. They’ll have to be careful now and use disguises.
“They’ll be fine,” Emma says. “Jess knows where she’s going, and Abby is super resourceful, and Brendan—”
Bells laughs. “Yeah, they’re okay— I just—” he glances at Emma, taking her hand.
“Yeah,” Emma agrees. They don’t have to say anything; the unspoken fear hangs in the air, heavy and growing by the minute. It’s not knowing that’s the worst.
New Bright City is visible long before they get close. Its chrome skyscrapers, monorails, advertisements, and huge holograms dwarf the surrounding forest and the scattered towns of Hopestar. One billboard illustrates the skyline of New Bright City under a repulsion shield and carries the words THE COLLECTIVE HARD AT WORK: PROTECTING YOU FROM P091; it flashes again, showing a brand-new MR-D4R model buzzing around a house. A huge holo is projected over the entire city: a loop of Starscream punching Dynamite in broad color as the giant holograms fight around the top spire of the COFAX building, the tallest building in the country.
Silence is long left behind. Emma doesn’t know where the music is coming from but it’s constant, multiple layers of sound layered atop one another: cars and people laughing and talking and colorful advertisements projected in the air, in streets, in walkways, outside of stores. Everything is moving fast: the people, the buses, the trains. Emma’s been here before, but the city never fails to overwhelm her.
Bells slams on the brakes, nearly hitting the car in front of them. “Sorry,” he says. “That holo jumped out into the street! Is that normal?”
“For here,” Emma says, glancing at the disappearing blue pixels of the person running with the slogan SNEAKERS BY STARSCREAM.
It’s too bright, too intense. Everything is gleaming white and silver-chrome; blue pixels swirl and holos leap from everyone’s devices. Emma has to shield her eyes from the reflection of the hot sunlight on the immaculate stone pavement. The buildings rise like monoliths in massive columns, disappearing into the clouds, and multiple layers of streets and greenways rise into the atmosphere.
The other cars seem to be driving in sync, merging and changing lanes and stopping in rhythm as the people inside them chat effortlessly or look out the windows. It seems Emma and Bells are the only ones with a driver-operated car.
Emma always thought the process to get a license was made incredibly difficult and expensive so that it was a luxury to be able to drive your own car. She had always felt proud of passing the complicated Manual Driving Authority test. In Nevada, it wasn’t uncommon to see a few people driving manually, although most people preferred the convenience of the automated vehicles or taking the bus.
There’s a brilliant flash of light overhead and Emma gasps. “Bells, did you see that?”
“Starscream,” Bells offers. “This is his town. Or, well, it is now.”
The hero had never been one of Emma’s favorites, and since they uncovered the conspiracy Emma doesn’t know where he stands. It sounds from Bells’ tone as if Starscream is well in the pocket of the League, if he’s still playing hero for this town. With Captain Orion out of the picture, he’s been elevated to her previous position as the country’s darling, the most famous and revered hero.
Starscream is followed by two camera drones; a few people look up and point, gasping.
