They didn't know they were dealing with a magic squirrel. Faye thought about the area near the front gate, concentrated, feeling her magic. She hadn't Traveled since getting the bug stuck in her foot, and for the first time in her life, she was scared to use her Power and hesitated.
I can do this.
Her thoughts went ahead of her. The air was clear of objects, the grass was tall, waving, not a concern for a normal, but for her, every piece represented potential death, a single blade of grass potentially as deadly as a steel knife. No leaves in the air. No big pieces of sand or grit, no bugs, only particulate so small that her passage would brush it aside. Nothing was about to enter that space. She saw everything. And it all happened within a tenth of a second and she was gone.
Faye appeared an inch over the tall grass, still in the same prone position she'd been in the cellar, and dropped like a stone. Her landing was cushioned by the weeds and she popped right back up.
The three men were standing in a circle over something. One of them was pointing his pistol at the floor, and she knew that the magic squirrel was just as dead as Grandpa had been. 'Lance!'
The men looked up simultaneously, guns rising toward her, and Faye prepared to Travel again, but their eyes collectively jerked upward as something passed through the air over her head with a rustle of cloth in the wind. A petite shape landed in a croch between the men, knocking one of them sprawling.
It was a woman in a red dress. She rose quickly, slammed her palm into another's chest with a terrible crack, throwing him back and completely through the brick chimney, collapsing the entire structure in a cloud of red dust. She spun back toward the last man, just as his gun stabbed out toward her, and Faye screamed. There was a gunshot.
The man's head snapped back. The pistol dropped from lifeless fingers before he collapsed into the ash.
'Good shot, Francis,' the woman shouted, then she turned back to the first one she'd knocked down. She kicked a giant beam casually out of the way, bent down and grabbed a handful of hair, dragging the struggling man from the ashes.
There was the sound of an action being worked, and Faye turned to see a man standing back at the gate with a bolt-action rifle. Faye almost Traveled, but he didn't point the rifle at her, instead he gave her an easy smile. 'It's going to be all right. We're here to help you.'
The man was young, probably not much older than her. 'Are you Lance the magic squirrel's friend?'
'Huh?' At first he seemed bewildered by that, then he started to laugh, like she'd said something hilarious.
Faye was confused by his reaction. 'Come on! I think they squished him!' she cried, then Traveled back to the house. Her shoes hit the ashen floor, just as the lady in the red dress was smacking the last man senseless. The scary woman glanced up, surprised. She was holding the much larger man effortlessly by the neck, one arm cocked back to hit him again, her delicate knuckles covered with his blood. Faye paid her no mind. These new people seemed to be on Lance's side, and he had saved her life.
'Oh no!' Faye cried, falling to her knees next to the hole in the floor. The squirrel was inside. It moved weakly. 'You're alive!' She picked up the tiny body and hugged it close. The magic squirrel blinked stupidly. It must have gotten hit in the head.
The young man joined her a moment later, putting one hand gently on her shoulder. 'Come on, we've got to get out of here. There might be more coming.'
'I wish they would,' said the woman. She appeared with a limp form thrown over one shoulder. The man was much bigger than she was, but she didn't seem to notice the weight. 'I hit that other guy through the chimney a little hard, but this one's alive. I can remedy that real quick if you want…'
'Naw, the General will want to question him,' said a gruff male voice. 'Francis, bring the car up and stick him in the back. Looks like some tough guys working for hire. They probably won't know anything about the Imperium, but it's worth a shot.' He sounded strangely familiar and Faye looked up. A burly, dark-bearded man was standing at the base of the porch with his thick arms folded. He was wearing rough work clothes and a wide-brimmed hat. He was shorter than Faye, but nearly two men wide in the chest. Faye stood, still cradling the squirrel.
'Lance?'
The man's eyes twinkled as he grinned. 'That's me… Hell, kid. What're you doing with that squirrel? I'm too proud and not near hungry enough to eat that flea-bitten thing for dinner.'
Faye looked down at the squirrel just as it regained its senses and bit the hell out her thumb. 'Ow!' She flung her hands wide and the little animal scurried into the grass.
Lance turned and started to walk away with a pronounced limp, realizing a moment later that she wasn't following. 'You coming or what?' Somewhere in Colorado When Jake Sullivan woke up again it was later in the day and there were brown mountains outside blocking the sunlight, but a pair of electric lamps lit the train compartment fairly well. They were still moving and the air felt thinner when he inhaled. Someone was sitting in the chair next to the bed, reading a newspaper. The banner proclaimed that it was the Denver something or other, and the headline was about some anarchists causing trouble, but Sullivan didn't feel like trying to move his head far enough to read it. He must have groaned, because the paper dipped down, revealing a thick pair of glasses and a friendly smile. 'Evening, Jake. How're you feeling?'
'Not dead. So could be worse.'
The man chuckled as he folded the newspaper. 'Understandable. We haven't had the pleasure of being formally introduced, though we've met twice now, I'm Daniel Garrett. I've been sent by my employer to make you an offer-'
'Not to be rude, Dan, but which way's the toilet?'
That caught him off guard, and he pointed to the rear of the compartment. 'Well, you have been asleep for a really long time… But Ira said you shouldn't try to move-' Sullivan sat up abruptly, feeling the stitches pull and ache. 'Never mind, I suppose.' Sullivan swung his legs off the bed, heaved himself up, and stumbled for the back. Walking would have been difficult under normal circumstances, but the rocking of the train made it worse.
'Never been in a train car that had a private toilet. Now that's high-class,' Sullivan stated on his return. This time there was a whole pitcher of water at the bedside instead of just a cup. He picked it up and started drinking
'Yes, I bribed our way onto the very best…' Garrett said as Sullivan pounded down the entire pitcher. 'It was the first thing out of Chicago, well, this or a freight car, and the doctor said he needed something decent to work on you, so I made sure I passed around enough dough to keep the crew from talking about the big, busted-up fella in the wheelchair.'
Sullivan slammed the pitcher down. 'That's better.' He leaned against the rocking wall, feeling every ache, stitch, and bruise, and he still had a cold. 'I'm starved. Any chance I could get you to spring for a couple of steaks?'
'Of course…' Garrett replied. 'I-I thought you wanted to know what was going on first?'
Sullivan grimaced as his stomach growled. Burning that much Power always made him hungry, and that wasn't counting the blood loss. 'You talk. I eat.'
Chapter 8
Why did I join the First Volunteers? That's a tough one. My older brother, Matt, he just liked to fight, and figured Germans would serve as good as any. My other brother, Jimmy, he was simple. He went wherever we went. Me… I was the one that liked to ponder on stuff. Roosevelt did like he did before with the Rough Riders. My daddy was a Rough Rider in Cuba. President Wilson didn't want him to go, but General Roosevelt wanted to prove that Actives were good for the country. Got himself killed in the process. Never did like his politics, too progressive for me, but I'd follow that man into battle anytime. Lousy politician, great leader… Sorry. The question… Why'd I go? I guess I felt a duty to show that Actives could be useful… that we could be the good guys… I was a fool.
– Jake Sullivan,
Parole Hearing,
Rockville State Penitentiary, 1928 Mar Pacifica, California The three strangers drove Faye south along a road overlooking the ocean. The young man, who introduced himself as Francis, was driving. Lance was sitting up front,
