After the Golden Age

redeeming a dark past.

“It’s a little much,” she said.

“They’ve had a heck of a time trying to figure out what happened, but twenty of the passengers gave sworn affidavits that you single-handedly stopped that bus from going into the harbor. I think you may be up for a medal.”

“Don’t tell them I was just trying to save my own ass.”

He chuckled. Just like a guy to act like there’d never been anything wrong between them.

She mustered the energy to say, “Mark, are you wanting to apologize and be friends again or what?”

He looked at his shoes. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

“So all a girl’s got to do to earn an apology is save a busload of people from a maniac.”

“It wasn’t … I was going to—” He paused. She watched him visibly collect himself, taking a breath, looking at the ceiling. She waited patiently. This ought to be good. But if he made her cry, she’d never speak to him again. “When I saw your name on the passenger list, but no one knew if you’d been hurt or not, I was useless. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t focus, or work. I had to find out. I got over here as soon as I could.”

As apologies went, he could have done worse. Now she had to decide whether or not she was going to forgive him.

“You should sit down,” she said. “You look tired.”

Looking relieved, he pulled up a chair. “We’ve been trying to track down the story on the driver.”

“What have you found out?”

“Male, forty-seven, divorced twice. He’s got a rap sheet, a half-dozen temper-related reprimands on his work record, and a felony conviction for assault. He’d have been laid off already if the transit authority weren’t so short- handed. His supervisor didn’t seem surprised when we told him what happened.”

Not one of those he-seemed-so-nice testimonials. He’d been boiling and the system hadn’t caught it. “He just went postal.”

“Looks that way.”

Someone knocked on the door, which was already ajar, and didn’t wait for an invitation before entering.

“Celia?” Her mother pushed into the room, followed by her father, both in street clothes. Mr. and Mrs. West, now. She hadn’t seen them at the accident site. They’d been too busy, and the paramedics had sent her to the hospital with a vanload of walking wounded as soon as they could.

“Hi, Mom.”

Suzanne took the invitation to rush to the side of the bed and shower her with maternal attention. She touched Celia’s arm, shoulder, cheek, and her eyes teared up. How could a superhero be so weepy?

“I can’t believe you were on that bus. Are you all right? How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

“Don’t worry. They’re taking good care of me. Look at all the flowers.” She pointed at the wall, a distraction tactic.

“Wow, look at them all.” Suzanne acknowledged Mark then, when she was looking right at him. “Hello, Detective Paulson.”

“Hello, Mrs. West. Mr. West.”

At six-foot-five, Warren loomed over the bed. He nodded formally.

Mark found a couple more chairs. Warren remained standing.

Suzanne said, “You’ve probably told the story a thousand times already. But what happened?”

Celia had worked out a short version by now. “We were just talking about it,” she said, snuggling deeper into the pillow. “It sounds like the driver just snapped. He missed a stop, and when someone argued he pulled out a gun and started shooting. It was clear pretty quick that he planned on driving straight into the river. Someone had to stop him. It probably could have been done cleaner, or better—” If she’d been a superhuman vigilante hero, for example. “—but there wasn’t much time.”

Beaming, eyes shining, Suzanne looked over her shoulder at Warren as if to say, Look what she did, isn’t it wonderful?

Shaking his head, Warren said, “It’s too simple. There has to be more to it.”

“Investigators say no,” Mark said.

“Somebody put you in danger to get to us. That’s the way it always is,” her father said.

Warren’s paranoia had been carefully cultivated over a lifetime. Coincidence didn’t exist in his world.

“You know, Dad, not everything is about you.”

“And you think you just happened to be on the one bus that gets hijacked?”

“Stranger things have happened,” she muttered.

A knock came on the door frame. Another visitor peered in—a young woman, a purple headband tying back her cornrows. Analise, carrying another bouquet. She must have decided Celia wasn’t so bad, too. If she’d only known that all she had to do was stop a runaway bus …

“I’m sorry,” Analise said. “I can come back later—”

“No, Analise, come in. It’s okay. Please,” Celia urged her; she wasn’t letting her friend get away. Cautiously, Analise stepped into the room, eyeing the Wests.

This was going to get surreal.

Celia made introductions. “Analise, these are my parents, Suzanne and Warren. Mom, Dad, this is my friend, Analise. And this is Mark Paulson.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Analise kept far enough back that she wasn’t obliged to shake hands with anyone. Her gaze rested on Celia. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. When I saw the news and all…”

“I’m fine,” Celia said. They couldn’t talk now about what they really needed to talk about, not with the others here. So, without a word, Celia accepted the truce that had been offered.

Suzanne was studying her. “Have we met before?”

“We went to school together,” Celia said quickly, before Analise had to start making excuses. “You might have met at graduation.”

“Ah.” Suzanne accepted the explanation, and Celia breathed a sigh. Analise was too composed to react at all, except with an earnest smile.

“Hey, looks like we found the party.” Robbie Denton entered, waving at them after knocking on the doorway. Arthur Mentis was with him. The place really was getting crowded.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Arthur just yet.

The telepath said, “If you’d rather I come back later—”

“No, it’s okay, come in. Unless you brought flowers, because I don’t think there’s any more room for flowers.”

“No. I brought your attaché. The police released it from evidence.” Arthur lifted her case, and Celia sighed with relief. She didn’t want to have to reconstruct all that information. Hell, she didn’t know anymore what she was going to do with all that information. Her perspective on various recent events seemed to have shifted.

“Thanks,” she said.

Robbie stood by Analise. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Robbie. This is Arthur.”

“I’m Analise. Celia’s friend.” Analise looked stricken; she seemed to have realized she was stuck in a room with the entire Olympiad. And Dr. Mentis the telepath had caught her gaze. He studied her a little too closely.

Celia said, rather brightly, “Thanks for coming, all of you. It’s really nice of you.”

“Of course we’d come visit,” Suzanne said. “Did you think we’d just abandon you?”

Mark and Analise both looked away at that one.

A cell phone twittered. Mark and Warren checked their belts. Mark won. He answered his phone with his name and went out into the hallway.

Warren glared after him. “The cops are useless. They can’t handle a criminal conspiracy like this.”

Celia said, “I’d appreciate it if you not talk about what the cops can’t handle around Mark.”

“Can’t he take a little criticism?”

“It’s not criticizing, it’s insulting; as bad as that speech the mayor gave.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut just as soon as the mayor does.”

He was a child. A big, spoiled child. What must Analise think of the great Captain Olympus bickering like this?