Pyro

Chapter 31

Our feet thudded against the hard pavement of the road. I sputtered out between my ragged breaths, "What the hell was that back there?"

Zoe's buoyant hair swung with each bounding step. She struggled to maintain my pace, occasionally lagging back but excavating a nugget of energy and bursting forward. She wheezed out, "What was what?" Perplexity laced sweat in her brow; or maybe it was the intense running.

I waved my arms wildly at Mr. Cal. The guy knew exactly how we were being attacked! What angles what officers were charging from, how to defeat them. How had he known?

My flailing arms drew his gaze, and his piercing eyes almost smirked.

Maybe it was because I was drinking in crisp, fresh air, or because my head pounded at the relief of having my power back, or maybe it was because sweat dampened my underarms and drenched my back. I was hearing things.

I definitely thought I imagined Mr. Cal say, "I see everything."

Our bodies cranked out a few thousand feet before Mr. Cal staggered, fighting to keep his balance. He lurched backward, gasping, "Shit, she's here."

My already racing heartbeat quickened. I clutched the collar of my jumpsuit, tugging at it, and though sweat glued my clothing and hair to my body, the urge to flee flooded my veins. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was frozen.

Not frozen in terror. No, frozen.

My limbs refused to obey me. It was like wads of cotton clogged my throat and coagulated in my blood, locking me in place. My eyes darted to my left: Zoe, flanked by Sam, remained utterly still. Their chests rose and fell, Sam's eyes darted around frantically, but that was it. To my right, Mr. Cal, trapped in a petrified state: arm slightly raised, shielding his body, nose scrunched like a tissue.

Someone's ability.

Likely a hero.

And I knew exactly which one when a black mustang swerved into view. The car jerked in a zig-zag pattern before the tires squealed and the car skidded, screeching until it stopped a few yards away from us.

No doubt about it: It was Ruby. I knew from that car's burnished surface reflecting the blue sky, the windows tinted a shade of dark red, and the parallel red stripes adorning the hood. Dammit, had Wais not accounted for heroes popping up?

My mind rushed to configure my calculations. Ruby lived in Texas. Texas City, if I recalled correctly. I remembered her from a recent headline: She'd happened upon drug smugglers and captured them all without a hitch

So we were in Texas. But more importantly, this was her power?

The door hovered into the air and out strolled Ruby; an eclectic amalgamation of New York lavishness and stereotypical cowboys, Ruby wore taut black leather pants, a leather jacket atop a wrinkled flannel shirt with the top buttons undone, and a brown cowboy hat. The wind ruffled her chocolate hair, and the sun caught in her amused eyes.

She tipped her aslant hat, cloaking her face in shadow, and, in her brown leather boots, slowly approached us. Panic welled in my body, clenching my stomach, and just before I hurled (if I could even hurl), a familiar voice probed my mind. Hang tight. We're on our way. The jaunty voice vanished as fast as it appeared, leaving me floundering.

The widening of Zoe's eyes indicated she heard the same idiot as I did; Wais's range was several miles. That meant he was anywhere from a minute to ten minutes away: Christ, why was he so late?

We had to stall.

A thick southern accent drawled Ruby's saccharine voice. "Y'all are stupid, I'll tell y'all that right now."