The ride to the hospital wasn’t the worst Joseph had, though it would have been nice if Johansen had let any of the rescue crews into the house to get him. With the lasher gone, the place was a mundane flavor of dangerous as opposed to the special, extra deluxe dangerous it was with the creature alive. Getting out of the basement and out of the house was an exercise in pain and frustration. Still, as far as ambulance rides went, he’d had worse. Philips and Meechin, his favorite EMTs, were there with a bag of the strong stuff as soon as the doors closed. Nice people. Cute couple.

  Meechin shined a pen light in Joseph’s eyes while the ambulance bumped and rattled its way down the Maldonados’ driveway. When she finished she tsked, a little smile on her weathered brown face. “Hey, Joe, we gotta stop meeting like this. Didn’t I tell you about TBIs?” She asked

  The medication was already in full effect, Joseph could tell. He tried to remember the name of the stuff, but it was long and had lots of consonants. “Too many blows to the head.” His words had a slight slur to them, enough for him to notice.

  Philips, a big, solid guy that looked like he’d be at home on a road crew or a cattle drive rather than inside a metal box ferrying broken people around, was already strapping a splint on Joseph’s leg, and he looked up to a readout somewhere above Joseph’s head. “Vitals are looking good, but that’s the last of the juice for now, brother. You’re a little too close to shock for comfort, and I don’t want to mess with what we’ve got. Once we’re in Ironside, they’ll get you sorted out.”

  “If I don’t get a full dose, will I still get a punch on my card?” The roof of the ambulance seemed to spin in place as he spoke.

  Meechin was back looking at his pupils again and didn’t seem to like what she saw judging by the way she squinted and bit her lip. She shook her head at Philips.

  Philips seemed to understand the unspoken message. “Seeing as how you have a concussion, I’m gonna give you two punches this go round, Joe. Least I can do for you, keeping us in business like you do,” he said, switching the bag on the IV rack to saline. Probably for the best.

  The medication wouldn’t let him sleep, Joseph knew, but being done working for the night allowed him to pass the trip in a comfortable, dreamless blur. Meechin and Philips exchanged a few short, professional phrases now and then, but otherwise the trip went by in companionable silence or at least what passed for it. The pain in Joseph’s leg sat at a dull ache now, and his bites itched under his bandages. Still, things could have been a lot worse, considering the circumstances.

  When they pulled up to Tilton Medical, Philips opened the ambulance doors, and Joseph was wheeled through the sliding doors of the ER. Before they could close, the sound of Johansen’s voice was there, calling his name, but a nurse in army multicams at the front desk intercepted the Company woman with a polite but firm command to sign in and wait to be seen. It could take Johansen a good long while to get through the paperwork if she wanted to invade his privacy. Thank God for the bureaucracy.

  Joseph was stripped, examined, scanned, bandaged, cleaned, splinted, rebandaged, medicated, and finally disposed of in a room where they could monitor him. The docs didn’t seem overly worried. The term ‘super physiology’ was bandied about a lot. The only reason they kept him for observation was, Joseph guessed, that they had to monitor him for insurance purposes. They stuck him in a dim little recovery room with an open door with a direct line of sight to the nurse’s station.

  The TV, which he didn’t have the remote for, played the news at an inaudible volume with out of sync subtitles scrolling across the bottom. This week, Bolster and Warlord had made a beachhead on Aerius, but their desire to not send the entire thing down to earth at terminal velocity was slowing their efforts at pushing farther inland. Allied supers were gathering both on the beach head and at Graviton’s fortified palace in preparation for a big throw down. Collateral damage was expected to be significant. Firebreak made a mental note to keep up with that.

  Sometimes someone in scrubs would wander by and check his monitors and ask him how he felt. Other times the heavy, booted footfalls of a soldier would stride purposefully by his door but never inside. A blissful, weightless drowsiness came over him, and he closed his eyes, ready to let the exhaustion claim him for a little while.

  “There you are,” came Johansen’s voice from his right, her voice a little huskier than when the night began, probably a result of the spores she’d inhaled. She’d taken the time to ditch her contaminated clothes and now wore dark jeans and a tight gray turtleneck. Joseph didn’t turn his head more than a little, but out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that the woman was sore and stiff, and the fresh bandages under her shirt crinkled as she sat down in the chair next to Joseph’s bed.

  Her face was a study in professional neutrality, but her eyes were questioning. She stared at him for a long, painful minute, waiting for him to speak, but she gave up eventually, taking a tablet out from her purse and tapping it to bring it to life.

  “Let’s get some things out of the way,” she said coolly. “Firstly, The Maldonado house burned down despite the best efforts of the Gregory Basin volunteer fire department. Mrs. Maldonado seemed more concerned with your well-being than that of her house, however, and considering the state of the house, no one could blame her. If the fire didn’t consume as much as it did, we would have had to finish the process ourselves anyway.” That made sense. No one knew how the proliferation of the Scar worked, so the people in charge tended to initiate a purge if there was an outbreak. Joseph guessed he’d saved some unlucky Fed some time and accelerant.

  Firebreak nodded his head, but Johansen gave no indication that she noticed.

  “Secondly, I have very little useful footage of your hunt and defeat of the lasher. Banks is still analyzing the data, but the explosion combined with what he’s calling “anomalous interference” means we couldn’t get a good recording of how you defeated it.”

  He nodded again. The monitor behind his head that constantly beeped in time with his heart went slightly up-tempo.

  “So, the Maldonado case is not exactly one that will play well with the media or online. There’s no footage. The monster was incinerated along with the poor woman’s house. Plus, your costume looked awful the entire time. None of this is how you want to start your career. Instead, we’ll look for a situation where you can debut in a big way. An iconic act of heroism.”

  She finally looked up from the screen and at Joseph, her face illuminated by the soft blue glow.

  “Also, I brought your clothes,” she said. “I found some in your truck.” Joseph’s hospital gown suddenly felt very thin, so he reached down to cover himself with some blankets.

  They sat there staring at each other for a long, awkward moment that stretched on and on, the beeping monitor attempting to betray Joseph all the while. He tried to keep calm, focusing on his breathing and slowing down his pulse, but the results were mixed. After a full minute in silence he couldn’t take it anymore.

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  “So,-”

  “So,” she interrupted, something akin to… Hunger(?) seeped into her voice. “So, about the smoking corpse of the giant tentacle monster from beyond space and time.”

  He swallowed. “Yes?”

  “How did that happen?”

  Joseph frantically searched his brain for a believable explanation, concepts and probabilities flew past his conscious mind in a kaleidoscope of ideas observed, examined, and discarded. Nothing jumped out at him, and the drugs were now working against him. “Uh. Yes. I… set it on fire,” he said in an attempt to stall. Brilliant.

  She cocked a perfectly manicured eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth crept upward a micron. “You set it on fire.”

  “Yes.”

  “You set it on fire so well the fire department couldn’t put it out.”

  He took half a second to consider his next statement. He could lie and say that lashers burned long and hot, but once she sent her report back to the Company, somebody with clearance could tell her that was a load of crap. It would buy him time, but in the end it would just out him as a liar and spark further questions. So he just went with:

  “Yes.”

  She opened her mouth in a silent “Oh” then she set down the tablet and placed her hands in her lap. One of her legs bounced up and down a couple times before she got it under control. “Could you please elaborate on how you set it on fire?” she asked.

  “Uh.” Holy hell, was this a bad time to be on painkillers. He looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were going to be up there, but it was just plain white formica.

  “You had a breakthrough with your power.” she stated, no room for argument. “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “You obviously did.”

  “You think a little more heat is a breakthrough?”

  “Is that all it is? Just a little heat?”

  “Yes.”

  “I disagree. Mr. Jaeger, AHAB has you classified as D-4. That is the lowest on the super power and growth matrix. What I saw in there was not a D-4 level of power.” She held up her hand forestalling Joseph’s denials. “Please, let me finish. Whether you had your breakthrough last night or sometime between now and your last evaluation, that shouldn’t be a problem. I can smooth things over with AHAB. However, I want to impress upon you how big a deal this is. If your power has the potential to grow, with some work and experimentation you and I may be on our way to helping a lot of people. What’s happened so far is just the first step, and I’m going to be here to help you take your next, no matter what it is.”

  Joseph frowned but waited politely until it was obvious the Company woman wasn’t going to say more.

  “Did you rehearse that?”

  “Yes, I did,” she said flatly.

  “And what happens if I want to live the quiet pyrokinetic life here in the middle of nowhere?”

  Johansen sighed, deflating slightly at the thought. “Then I’ll be there to help you do that too, but I think you would be doing the world a disservice,” she said, picking her tablet up again and tapping it a couple times. She reached around the side and got out a stylus, then grinned at him.

  “Now that that’s out of the way. Let’s move forward, shall we?” She bubbled like a kettle of tea now exhibiting an excited energy reserved for school girls and dogs about to go for walkies. She wiggled forward in her chair and posed like an artist evaluating a subject. “Alright. Spill it. What can you do, when did it happen, and how do you feel about the color red?”

  Joseph’s clouded mind whirled. ‘What can you do?’ She was keeping her questions open ended purposefully. He had to get out of here.

  It was the nurse that saved him. His rescuer came bounding into the room, humming tunelessly with her soft shoes making little squeaking sounds on the floor while she pushed a metal wheelchair in front of her. “Hello there, Mr. Jaeger. I’m Betty, and I’m on the morning shift,” she said beaming brightly. “Looks like we’ll be spending some time together today. I’ve been told that you’re due for a second scan on that leg of yours, and I’m gonna wheel you down there. You ready?”

  “I am so ready, Betty. Take me away, angel of mercy.” Joseph blurted, rapidly looking back and forth between Betty’s warm smile and Johansen’s look of disapproval, a look that said ‘you can’t escape me forever, Jaeger.’

  “Aw, you’re sweet,” the nurse replied, turning to Johansen. “Sorry to take him from you like this, miss, but-”

  A soft whirring came from the little black palm tablet on Betty’s belt. “Oh, boy. Hang on Mr. Jaeger,” she said, her tone darkening somewhat. “I’m needed in another room right now, but I’ll grab someone to get you to your scan. Hang tight.”

  A look of triumph flashed on Johansen’s face, and the heart monitor was back to being a traitorous bastard. What did she know? What did she see? Was it just the fireball? Did she see everything? What about the company? He couldn’t think in a straight line.

  Betty whisked out of the room, and Joseph could hear her go to work, commanding and competent. “Orderly! Yeah, you! Come here!”

  Johansen leaned in close to Joseph’s face, her steely blue gaze never leaving his, her mouth slowly forming a wide, wicked smile. She was nearly nose to nose with him when she whispered. “I opened the tubes on your bandolier.”

  She stayed there, her clear eyes locking him in place while she studied him. She smelled like vanilla and strong coffee.

  The lasher was far less frightening.

  Johansen gave him no room to breathe. “What are they?”

  “Would you believe they are affirmations?” He asked, not entirely believing how badly he was handling this.

  “Mr. Jaeger!” Betty called from the hallway. “This man is going to help you get to your scan, I’ll see you later today.”

  Then into the room walked a living mountain, six foot eight at least, with a barrel chest and thick, hairy forearms that looked more at home on a gorilla than a man. He was clean shaven and bald with a blocky head practically built for a flattop. His eyes scanned the room for a moment, from top to bottom, his gaze slowly crawling over Johansen then landing on Joseph.

  “I’m Hugh,” he rumbled. “I’m supposed to take you to the MRI.” His accent was a strange one, not entirely North American. Afrikaner maybe? His presence had a sobering effect on Joseph almost instantly. The man’s bearing, the way he moved, the way he swept the room. He had a sort of unresting, predatory perceptiveness. It felt out of place in a hospital. Then there were the numerous, ugly scars and burns on the big man’s hands that spoke volumes about his proclivities.

  Both Firebreak and Johansen stared at Hugh, one with her mouth open and one desperate for a lifeline.

  “Alright then,” Joseph said, clapping his hands once then swinging his legs, one wrapped in a temporary cast, over the side of his bed. “No time like the present.” Then he leveraged himself into the chair with just his arms while he took off his leads and his blood pressure cuff. “I was just talking about how I loved MRIs.” The heart monitor squealed in protest at having lost its signal, and Hugh stomped over to run his hands over it to find the appropriate switch to turn it off, something an orderly should already know.

  Joseph put his hand on Agent Johansen’s forearm and squeezed. “Honey,” he said cheerily, forcing a smile he hoped was convincing. Johansen only lost her composure for half a second, her brows furrowed in confusion and her lips parting for an indignant reply, but then she got the message.

  Johansen martialed her features quickly, adopting a tender smile, and leaned on him familiarly. “Yes, dear?” she asked, the strain in her voice noticeable but just barely.

  “Will you please bring me my things?” Firebreak asked.

  Hugh cursed under his breath and seemed to settle on just unplugging the machine, ripping the cord out of the wall and letting it dangle. A little plastic safety catch bounced and slid across the floor, which Firebreak pretended not to notice.

  Johansen’s eyes flicked over to Hugh and back then nodded slowly, indicating understanding. “All I have is your papers, darling. Is that what you need?” She asked. Her choice of words was absolutely intentional.

  The wheelchair’s handle creaked and strained in Firebreak’s grip. With one question in a time of crisis, she’d checkmated him. Still smiling sweetly, he did what he had to do.

  “Yes, please bring my papers, dear. I may have to do some work.”