Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1) (7 page)

***

“
That’s
our cue,” said a portly man. He stopped leaning against the wall and started turning up the cuffs on his dress shirt. He reached up and loosened the tie tightly wrapped around his neck.

“And here I was beginning to think you looked handsome,” said a young female holding a flute of white wine.

“Alyssa,” he said, “you flatterer.”

“I take back all the comments about you needing sit-ups,” she said, giving his belly a rub.

He chuckled. The room was descending into chaos as patrons tried to push their way past one another. Outside, the fight between the anti-powers coalition and the Children sympathizers became physical. Cops in riot gear were beginning to step over the broken glass and come into the gallery itself. As law enforcement blocked the exits, the crowd of fringe artists screamed, trying to get away from the confrontation.

“What’s the plan, Dwayne?”

The man tossed the tie onto the floor, stepping into the crowd. He turned to the exit Conthan charged toward. He watched the two artists escape through the door. He rubbed his thumb across the tips of his fingers. As he sped up the motion, small sparks began to form.

“We keep them away from those doors.”

She nodded. Without missing a beat she tapped the flute against the wall, the glass shattering to the ground, leaving the sharp stem. She walked closer to the policeman reaching for his weapon. A protester charged the policeman, using the wood of his sign as a spear.

Dwayne began shaking his fists, the small sparks now leaping off his hands. He paused as Alyssa stepped between the officer and the protestor. She dropped quickly to one knee, jamming the flute stem into an officer’s leg. She used his momentum to flip him over her head and into another officer. The second cop grabbed for his weapon and looked down when he couldn’t find the grip.

Alyssa dropped out the magazine and removed the barrel of the gun. She used the butt of the gun and slammed it into the man’s helmet. He reached up to grab her hand but found she moved faster than expected. The young girl, barely old enough to be drinking, dropped to the floor, sweeping her leg outward, hooking it on his feet and sending him to the ground. As she spun around, she swung her hand downward, smacking him in the windpipe.

Dwayne smiled at the elegance with which she moved. She pulled the officer’s baton from his utility belt and stood up, meeting his eyes. “Are you going to start pulling your weight?”

He pointed behind her. She turned as protestors lunged at her. She spun the baton around, cracking the jaw of one man. He fell backward as she punched with the heel of her hand into the woman’s chest. The woman collapsed to the ground, hissing at the pain radiating through her body.

Dwayne stepped beside his comrade. He gave a slight shrug. “You seem to have things under control.”

“No thanks to you,” she said.

He threw out his hand, knocking her to the side as a man behind her raised a gun level with her head. Dwayne grabbed the firearm by the muzzle. Sparks jumped from his hand, passing through the gun, leaping across the skin of the man. Dwayne watched the familiar spasm as the electricity wrangled his heart, throwing it out of rhythm and sending him into cardiac arrest.

Alyssa hit the ground in a roll and bounced back to her feet. The hair on her neck stood on end as the air began to smell like burning hairspray. A soldier with a gun strapped across his chest stepped inside the broken window. The people were fleeing the scene, screaming as they recognized the black and red patch on the man’s sleeves.

“Corps,” she whispered.

“Not Genesis Division,” Dwayne shouted back to her.

Dwayne knocked the spasming man to the side just in time for the soldier to replace him. Dwayne held up his hands, sparks arcing between his fingers. The soldier reached out, the pain of the lightning burning his skin.

“You’ve—” Dwayne said as the man’s grip tightened. The mechanics in the soldier’s arm began to take over, “—got me now.”

A flash of light illuminated the room as a bolt of lightning jumped from Dwayne’s chest into the cyborg. The soldier’s weapon fell and the skin on his exposed chest melted away, along with the flesh of his arms.

The soldier picked up Dwayne and threw him back along the floor as if he weighed nothing. Dwayne watched the man wince, the pain starting to register. Even with neural inhibitors working in the soldier’s head, he was beginning to feel a stinging sensation along the charred skin. The soldier turned his attention to Dwayne’s companion.

Alyssa closed the distance between them and swung the club at the man’s head. The wood splintered as it connected with his jaw. Dwayne could hear her gasp. The amount of metal he must have inside to resist the blow was alarming. He had seen the cyborgs before, men in the military trading their flesh for synthetic parts, but this was even more than usual. He assumed the man was a casualty replacement, a wounded veteran turned into a robot to keep the military’s investment from dying.

The man reached out for her, his reflexes faster than the police officer’s. She knocked the hand to the side and shoved the splintered club into its upper arm. The man didn’t scream. She’d be pissed, she didn’t like when they refused scream. With the speed of his movements, Dwayne had to assume there wasn’t much human left.

She was fast. She was skilled. She wasn’t Dwayne. As the man grabbed her by the throat, she felt his strength threatening to crush her windpipe. She pulled the club from his forearm and drove it into his eye socket.

She braced her feet against the man’s chest and pushed off, launching herself backward along the floor. The soldier reached up to pull the spike from his eye as he started to wail. Alyssa averted her eyes from the screaming man falling to his knees. She stood up while Dwayne clambered next to her. The soldier stopped moving on the ground. Alyssa eyed Dwayne’s charred shirt and pink skin peeking through.

“We good?”

He looked back to the door, still firmly shut. “That should have given him plenty of time to get out of here.”

“Now for us,” she said.

As Dwayne stepped forward, a group from the party rushed past him to the door, looking back in fear. He stepped over the glass of the bay window leading outside and helped Alyssa step over the remaining shards. The street had mostly cleared; some spectators hovered to see what was going on. He could only assume the mob had vanished as the Corps soldiers arrived. Even the most passionate protestor wouldn’t risk the wrath of the machine men.

“Dav5d has a car ready for you,”
said a woman’s voice.

Across the street, a car’s engine turned over and the driver’s side door opened. Dwayne checked both directions as he crossed the road. Dav5d had chosen a high-end speedster. Dwayne looked back at the destroyed art gallery. He didn’t fully understand why he was needed, but he sensed pieces were beginning to fall into place.

“We’re heading home, Vanessa.”

Chapter Six

December 1st, 1992 9:02AM

Mark
removed his lanyard, tossing it to the floor in a rush. The nurse pointed to the sink, telling him to scrub up. He threw his blazer next to his lanyard and began washing his hands. He rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt and continued furiously scrubbing. He washed off the soap and the nurse patted down his arms and pushed open the door into the room.

The scream that ripped through the air startled him, causing him to freeze in his tracks until it subsided. The woman lying on her back, her legs firmly secured in stirrups, made eye contact with him as her back arched. Another scream filled the small room. She had seen him; there was no escaping now, he was in this to the end.

He rushed by her side and gripped her reaching hand. She had taken off her wedding and engagement rings when she began to put on the baby weight. He was thankful as her grip threatened to break his finger. He gripped her bloated hands while brushing away hair blocking her vision.

“You’re doing fine, hon,” he said, giving her hand a light squeeze.

“You’re never having sex with me again.” She half-laughed as she gritted her teeth.

A nurse on the other side of the bed took her hand and began making breathing sounds. Mark realized he hadn’t started the breathing they learned in Parents 101. He started the hissing noises and his wife let out a deep sigh as the contraction passed.

“You sound ridiculous.” She laughed again.

She was the funny one. She was the lighthearted one. She was the better half of their relationship. He was the worrier, the one who pored over bank statements and focused on future goals. She was the reason they were having a baby. On their first date he told her, “Your laugh is the most beautiful sound.” She said the baby was going to fill their house with same joyful noises.

“I love you,” he said, basking in the start of an amazing journey they were embarking on.

The doctor stepped up to the table and smiled at the young couple. He pulled his mask over his face and sat in front of the stirrups. “So I hear we’re going to have a baby today.”

“And stop the fun?” She started screaming before she could give him the signature half-laugh she was known for.

The doctor began talking to the nurses. Mark ignored the man as he focused on his wife. His wedding ring was going to leave a mark as she clenched his hand with a vise-like grip. He only froze as the word “complication” left the doctor’s mouth. His wife grunted out a sound he could only assume was a question about what was going on.

Mark could see the motion in the room from the corner of his eye. He didn’t turn away from his wife. There wasn’t much he was sure about in the world. He would doubt every decision in his adult life, but this was the first in which he was certain of a positive outcome. Months ago, a very tender woman had assured him his mother would survive her bout with cancer. With the odds stacked against her, she conquered her own body and the cancer was clear. The same woman had said his child would be healthy. He never questioned her predictions, and now, he understood what it was like to know the future.

His wife’s eyes were terrified of what was happening. She wanted answers, assurances her newborn was going to be okay. As the doctor moved in a rush, she did everything she could to distract herself from the pain.

“It will be okay,” he whispered. He leaned in close on the bed, propping himself next to her. He rested his hand on her face and forced her to see his eyes. She looked panicked and he couldn’t blame her. The baby hadn’t been born yet and she was already in love with the little person. She had removed his desk and bookcase for a crib and rocking chair and put together more infuriating contraptions to transport the child than he could imagine.

He rubbed his thumb along her cheek. Her eyes tried to focus on him but he could see through the pain radiating throughout her body. He leaned in close to his wife, his forehead only inches from touching hers. He kept eye contact, showing his confidence in the situation.

“He’s going to be okay,” he whispered to her.

She only responded by grunting and gritting her teeth. The doctor moved about, talking to the nurse and doing something hidden by the modesty cloth draped over his wife. Tears rolled down her cheek.

“I promise you, he’s okay,” he whispered to her.

Her body relaxed and the pain seemed to vanish. Elizabeth didn’t let go of his hand as he whispered more sweet nothings to her. She wanted to sit up and see the doctor, but her body felt weak and she waited for some sign.

The two nurses in the room moved frantically. She didn’t break eye contact with her husband as he continued to stroke her face. She was tired and she wanted to sleep. She waited as an empty feeling began to creep into her chest.

There was a single cry. She held her breath, unsure if what she heard had been real. Seconds were an eternity as she waited. The silence was broken by a series of shrieks. Without any signs of embarrassment, tears rolled down her face at the overwhelming joy that began to flood into her being.

“I promised you,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead.

The doctor explained there had been a problem with the umbilical cord that had caused a lack of oxygen to the baby. They would need to keep both mother and child overnight to monitor their health, but he assured her the newest addition to their family would be okay. He helped remove her legs from the stirrups and tried to make her feel more comfortable. Then he handed the infant off to the nurse, who turned to a changing table. The doctor congratulated the parents. The new parents were so tightly entwined with one another they weren’t listening to a word he was saying.

The phone began to ring, breaking sounds of mom and child crying. Mark kissed his wife. “Everything is going to be amazing.”

Elizabeth leaned back on the bed, glancing at the ringing telephone. She pointed to her face and motioned to the mess by her legs. She smiled. “If you’re still with me after seeing this…”

He kissed her again. “You’re beautiful.”

The phone continued to ring. The nurse swaddled his newborn and placed his boy into the outstretched arms of his wife. He pushed back her hair and kissed her brow. She leaned into Mark’s arms and smiled up to him.

“How did you know?”

The emotions were running strong in his heart. His beautiful wife was holding his firstborn child. His mother was outside, waiting to meet her first grandchild. He had no doubts. He thought of the woman handing him letters wrapped in a single white ribbon.

“Eleanor told me,” he whispered.

Elizabeth didn’t reply. She had been terrified when Eleanor was shot and agents had detained her husband. He had answered their questions as truthfully as he could, but she was convinced his association with the psychic had threatened her family. It wasn’t until months ago he confessed to the letter he kept hidden away in his sock drawer. He told his wife about how Eleanor saw the future and knew his mother would survive cancer and that they would have a healthy baby.

She couldn’t understand the life of the soothsayer, but she knew her husband’s respect and conviction for the woman made her an angel hovering over their family. He squeezed her hand again.

The phone didn’t stop ringing.

He let go of her hand and picked up the receiver. He barked, “What?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied quickly. He didn’t say another word. The phone rolled off his shoulder and dropped to the floor as he walked toward the television. The nurse stepped next to the new mother and offered to take the child and help her clean up before her son’s first feeding.

He couldn’t hear the conversation anymore as he fumbled with the buttons on the television set suspended from the wall. He didn’t try to change the channel. He simply stared at the box, unable to comment or explain to his wife.

“…Seabrook, New Hampshire is gone. If you’re just tuning in, the Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant has just exploded. We have no word yet on what caused the explosion, but we do know there was a catastrophe resulting in failure of the systems at the Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant.”

“God help them,” said the woman at the news desk.

He could hear Elizabeth gasp at the announcement. His mind was moving a million miles an hour. His wife, still covered in sweat and grime from giving birth, his newborn son, his office calling him to alert him to the news, all of it caused his head to swim. He was unsure of what his next move would be.

The television flickered and turned to static. Mark reached up and smacked the side of the box. The static began to take the shape of a person. He stepped back to see the solid outline of a man on the TV.

“United States of America,” said a voice through the static, “land of the free and home of the brave. We are calling out your discreet operations. We know all about The Culling. Individuals who for years have been in your employ, using their more-than-human abilities to further your goals, will not die in vain. Killing empaths, slaughtering clairvoyants, and the genocide of telepaths will be responded to in kind.”

“Eleanor,” he said in a hushed voice as he realized what they were talking about.

“The United States has declared war on the wrong people. We can see you coming. We can hear your plans. We will not be eliminated. You’ve seen our reach.”

The static turned to an aerial shot of a cluster of buildings. A small explosion began in one part of the structure and a chain of bursts followed. He didn’t need to see the rest to know it was another nuclear power plant being attacked.

“The Northeast belongs to us now. Cease species war.”

The televisions went black. No static, no sound, just a blank screen. He turned to his wife; her face showed worry. She didn’t know what to say to her husband. The joy of her baby boy was being replaced by the horror of domestic terrorism.

“You’ll be safe here,” he said.

“Just go,” she said. “We’ll be fine here. Go help save the world.”

He pushed the door open and grabbed his blazer and lanyard. As he threw on his White House badge, he realized he didn’t even know the name of his son. He started to jog down the hall. Every room, people were staring blankly at the television. Even nurses paused, unsure of how to continue their day.

Mark turned through a door leading to the stairwell that would take him to the garage. He jumped down the steps two at a time and shoved his way through. As he quickly walked to his car he couldn’t help but think of Eleanor.

“Is this what you couldn’t predict?” He was terrified that the darkness had begun to take root.