Grounded

Prologue

Prologue

September 2062

The night Frank found her it was raining, a wrath-of-God type of downpour Crater City hadn't seen in a decade. The power was out, but that was nothing new. The grid was unpredictable in any weather.

Later, he'd call it divine providence. If not for the rain, he wouldn't have grabbed his jacket to take out the trash. And it was the jacket that would save his life.

In the alley behind the fire station at the corner of Fifth and Lincoln, Frank escaped the endless drone of his fellow firefighters by volunteering to dispose of a smelly nest of takeout containers. Without power, the men didn't have the city's monitoring equipment to keep them busy. They became downright nostalgic by candlelight. Hell, if you let him, Jonas would drone on about his three freckle-faced girls until sunrise.

Frank could not deal. He didn't have a family. Not anymore.

He might not have noticed her at all in the blackout, but when he tried to lift the dumpster lid, a shock ran up his arm. The jolt made him drop the stack of waxed cardboard he was carrying, and he bent over to clean up the mess.

"What the—?" Frank crouched for a better look.

A newborn baby girl, in a worn pink T-shirt and wrapped in a plastic grocery bag, blinked at him from under the lip of the dumpster. Frank would have liked to think there was some compassion in the effort—that whoever left her meant for the thin sheath of plastic to keep her warm and dry, but under the abandonment law, it was legal to leave a newborn inside a public building. The fact that she wasn't safely indoors was a testament to what type of scum had abandoned her.

"Hi, sweetheart. Oh, you're cold. Don't worry, old Frank will take care of you." He lifted her into the cradle of his arms and shuffled under the awning of the alley door. By the light of the moon, he wiped the raindrops off her face with one burly thumb. Cuddling her tiny body against his chest, he enjoyed the innocent shine of her eyes and her slight weight in his embrace.

Frank's atrophied spirit stirred from a long, deep sleep. He smiled. And smiles were hard to come by since the day a semitruck T-boned a Range Rover and turned Frank's family into just Frank. One tiny hand wrapped around his pinky finger, and that was that. She might as well have handcuffed his soul.

Shuffle-scrape. Shuffle-scrape. He searched the alley for the source of the sound. A sewer rat? Since the war, they grew as large as dogs. Better to be safe; consider the babe. He groped for the doorknob behind his hip.

A deep voice rasped from the darkness, "Don't! You've got to get her out of here." From the shadows, a man stepped into the swash of moonlight; at least, Frank thought he was a man. The guy was a piece of raw meat with more bruise than face and open sores up both arms. Soaked to the bone, he wore bloody white hospital scrubs that clung like a second skin. The water sheeted off him, his breath a foggy reminder of the cold night air.

"Who are you?" Frank asked, tightening his hold on the little girl.

"Never mind that. They know we're here. It's just a matter of time. You've got to run. You've got to hide her."

"Hey, buddy, it's legal to abandon a baby here. Why don't we all go inside and warm up? There are places you can stay, get a hot meal."

"Listen to me," the man implored. "Everything you need is with her."

Frank ran his hand around the newborn. Sure enough, under her back the corner of a thick envelope scraped his palm.

"I'll take care of her," Frank said in his most reassuring tone. "We've got resources inside."

"No!" The man's voice broke and his eyes widened. Large, wounded eyes. Desperate eyes. "You can't tell anyone."

No stranger to desperation, Frank took pause. He'd been there once. The way the guy let the rain pound on him, with no attempt to move for the shelter of the awning, was a blatant cry for help.

"What's your name?" Frank asked.

The man eyed the street with twitchy apprehension.

"Come on inside," he continued. "Let's talk."

"They're coming," the stranger said, shaking his head. "We're out of time."

Damn, the guy's pale skin seemed to light up the alley. Or was he actually glowing? At first, Frank thought it was a trick of the moonlight, but the sky beyond the awning was no different than before. He closed his eyes, opened them again.

The sizzle of electricity echoed off the brick wall of the fire station. Was the grid coming back up? No, the source of the sound was the stranger! With each crackle, neon blue veins wormed beneath the man's translucent skin. Frank's mouth gaped. That was not normal. It sure as hell wasn't natural. He curled the baby closer and pressed into the door.

"You've got to get grounded, and fast." The man's stare bore into Frank. "You're a fireman. You know what happens when electricity and water mix. I can't hold back much longer."

Heat bloomed from the stranger's body, blue-white energy that extended a foot around his profile. The rain evaporated on contact, filling the alley with steam.

How hot must his body be to do that? Eyes narrowed against the glare, Frank pressed into the wall, forced back by the iridescent heat.

"Promise me you'll take care of her," the man begged.

One look at the baby girl in his arms and there was only one answer Frank could give. "I promise."

The stranger nodded. "Go. It's time."

If Frank had any ideas about handling the situation in an official capacity, those thoughts burnt up in the blue inferno that chased him from the alley. Hunched protectively over the babe, the blast singed his back just short of pain and infused the air with the acrid scent of scorched, flame-retardant fabric. Thank the Lord he'd put on his coat to take out the trash. Throat tight, he hurled himself behind the concrete wall of the covered parking garage bordering the fire station. Was the babe hurt? He peeled her away from his chest as he ran, relieved when she made a small mewing noise, like a good solid cry was coming on.

His faithful antique pickup waited in its usual spot overlooking Fifth Street. He fished the key from his pocket to let himself in and cranked the heater as the babe cried in earnest. "Cold we can deal with, baby girl. If you're hungry, you're out of luck for now."

Through the windshield, Frank's view was unobstructed as the stranger exited the alley, tendrils of steam heralding his blue glow. "Radioactive son-of-a bitch," he murmured, his head buzzing with theories about the stranger's condition. Toxic drugs, industrial exposure, alien DNA. Each as unlikely as the next.

The stranger stopped beneath the dead traffic light and faced a street abandoned due to the storm and the time of night. Abandoned, until a fleet of black Humvees roared up Fifth and unloaded a barrage of gunfire in the stranger's direction.

"Holy God in heaven!" Frank threw the truck into reverse, peeling out of the parking space. His transmission groaned as he forced the vehicle into drive and raced for the exit. In the rearview mirror, he expected to see the stranger's bloodied body in the street but slammed on the brakes at what he saw instead.

The man wasn't dead. He was a living lightbulb.

Holding the baby, Frank craned his neck over his shoulder for a better view. Lightning flew from the man's hand, igniting the first Humvee and catapulting another weighty vehicle into the air. A moment of flight and the fiery descent turned the jeep into a missile. The vehicle ripped through the advancing fleet, an oily, twisted mass of metal. Another lightning bolt flew, and then another. Like children's toys, the military vehicles popped skyward and folded accordion style, rolled and rumpled in the stranger's ire.

The glowing man stepped around the wreckage and advanced toward the next wave of Humvees.

Frank floored the accelerator, patting the now wailing baby as he exited on to Fourth Street at the back of the garage. He raced away from the flames and the rancor of burning rubber. Sirens blared from every direction but he did not stop. With nothing to lose, and no one who mattered to miss him, Frank ran.

    It would be a long time before he stopped running.