She had been gagged. The sling that once held her injured arm was gone, and the black appendage dangled loosely at her side. Blackened flesh trailed up from the arm over the side of her neck, to her face, the death slowly spreading. David forced her first to sit up, then climb out. He and one other helped her to the ground. I could tell by the awkward way in which she stood, whatever was spreading from her arm had worked its way down to her leg, too.
“You see, Jack. When I was a kid, the fine people at Charter used me to knock off the participants of Project Leapfrog. That’s what they called the shot they gave to all our parents: Leapfrog. I’ve got the file, if you want to take a look. I’ve read them all. Every scrap of paper. The adults were expendable once they had us kids. We were what they wanted. They used Stella, too. This woman here saw to that. Used us both, really. You too. Your father can tell you all about that.”
Latrese Oliver glared at him. David smiled back. “I’ve wanted to kill this woman for years, but I didn’t. I kept her alive just for you, so you could watch. Think of her as a peace offering. You, me, Stella, and now Darby, we’re 2.0, we’re next generation. We need to stick together. Latrese here is part of the problem, though, part of the mess. She’s got to go. I cleaned up the mess back at old Charter corporate. Now it’s time to sweep the last of the dirt into the pan.”
Stella tried to get up and nearly fell. I reached down and helped her to her feet. She drew in a sharp breath when she saw Oliver out there, the condition she was in.
David rubbed at his temple with his thumb. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Jack, the adults need to die. There’s no way around that. I frankly don’t want any more of us, and they can make more. Can’t have that.” He looked up at the building, his eyes scanning the dozens of people looking back at him. “It’s getting late, and I need my beauty rest. I think it’s time we get on with things, don’t you?”
I had one arm around Stella’s waist, the other on the edge of the windowsill. Her shallow breathing was the only sound in our little room.
“Not gonna come out, Jack? Oliver not enough for you? You need a bigger carrot?” David shook his head. “Do you know the name Penelope Maudlin? Our friend Dewey Hobson sure did.” He nodded toward Dewey’s broken, lifeless body on the concrete.
Stella’s hand went to her mouth. “That’s Dewey?”
I nodded.
“Your dad, Cammie, Dalton—or is it Preacher?—they all knew her well, college chums. Long before her unfortunate accident in 1992, she got herself knocked up and had a kid, too. A little boy, born the same year as you and me. She was a bit unstable, though. For the most part, the boy’s father raised him. Then that went to shit, too. I guess he’s a bit of a half-breed—his mother took the shot, his father didn’t…” David held out both his hands, weighing this. “Not sure what that means for him. Charter’s files said with only one affected parent, he exhibited no special abilities. They wrote him off. He does have a sense for business, maybe that’s what he walked away with, who knows. You know him pretty well, I gotta wonder—you ever see anything special there?”
Stella looked at me.
I shrugged my shoulders, not sure who he was talking about.
David tilted his head and swept his arm at the building like a game show host. “Will the son of Penelope Maudlin, please come down!”
Nearly a minute passed before Dunk stepped from the mouth of Carrie Furnace and hobbled on his cane through the crowd of white to David.
Dunk never mentioned his mother.
When he moved to Pittsburgh from Chicago, it had only been him and his father. Many of the kids in school came from broken homes. I figured if he wanted to talk about it, he would. He never did, though. Not once.
Dunk moved like a zombie through the crowd, fighting his body with each step, David’s summons,hiswordsmore powerful than Dunk’s own free will.
When he reached David, David told him to kneel and he did, the lines of his face tight as he tried to fight that, too.
David took the small Motorola radio from Dunk’s free hand and pressed the transmit button. “Edward Thatch, Cammie Brotherton, and Jeffery Dalton, I want all of you to come out and join us. Leave your weapons behind, only you.”
I heard David’s words echo through the tiny speaker of the radio attached to my belt. He followed this first request with a second that chilled my bones.
“For the rest of you, if you’re involved in illegal activities with Mr. Duncan Bellino, take a look around you, find one of your coworkers, and kill them. Another after that. Last one standing, takes home the prize!”
At first, nothing happened. And I hoped to God nothing would. Then I heard the first gunshot. That was followed by another and another after that. Several bodies fell from the catwalks and roof and crashed to the concrete below, a rain of people, some still clutching their guns, some still wearing headphones which did little to protect them from whoever had been standing at their side.
There were no shouts in anger, no cries of pain, only silent death.
Stella closed her eyes, pressed her face against my chest.
David said, “Geez, I completely forgot about my previous instruction—the whole thing about forgetting how to breathe if you fired your gun. I imagine that finished off a few more of you. So sorry about that!”
David’s ability was frightening. The fact that he was enjoying himself scared the shit out of me.
My father was first to step outside and cross over to David. Preacher and Cammie followed about a minute later, Darby clinging to her mother’s hand, her pink little cheeks streaked with tears.
David told each of the adults to line up next to Dunk and kneel. They did as they were told, no other choice. He grinned at Darby, the pink and white burn on the side of his face stretching awkwardly.
Darby cowered behind her mother.
“You must be Darby!” David beamed. “Come say hello to your Uncle David!”
