Recovery Efforts
Freddy McTaggert and I never had the “come to Jesus” father-son moment you might have been expecting. Too many years and too much hurt existed between us to bridge that gap in any meaningful way, but I don’t regret meeting him. The best thing to come out of our getting to know each other was Andrew. I doted on my little brother every possible moment until he had to board the plane to go back east.
Because he was still a federal prisoner, McTaggert had to return to Manhattan Island, and the transport was arranged for Wednesday afternoon, two days (and three devastating aftershocks) after their rescue from the Recombinants. Even though McTaggert requested permission to assist in the earthquake recovery efforts, Hudson denied it, and McTaggert spent the time under guard at Hill House.
After Shannon Milton from Channel Four got wind of our antics at HQ and linked that back to Hackensack, Andrew McTaggert’s fate became a hotly debated topic in the media—as well as the fate of every other child in Manhattan. The fact that the imprisoned Metas had small children was a bad secret that had just been blown wide open and given a face. Andrew’s face. Some people wanted the kids removed from the prison for their own good; others called for all Metas to be rounded up and added to the collection.
Warden Hudson went on national television about an hour before McTaggert’s plane was due to take off and made two announcements. Most of the team was out in the field, but Aaron and I were hanging around the Burbank airport—which had the only local, intact runway—with Freddy, Andrew, and four armed guards, when the announcements were made.
We heard them over one of the guard’s radios. “I’ll keep this brief,” Hudson said in his usual gruff tone. “First, I have recommended and the president has agreed to grant pardons to the fourteen Meta prisoners who have been helping with the rescue and relief efforts in Los Angeles, California. Once the paperwork is complete, they will not be required to return to Manhattan. They will be free to live their lives.”
Aaron, who was sitting next to me on an uncomfortable plastic bench, nudged my shoulder and grinned. This was what we’d hoped for—the start of forgiveness for the Metas living in Manhattan. Fourteen down.
“Second, there is the matter of the children living in Manhattan. At this time, I am not willing to forcibly separate any child from his or her natural parents. The prisoners have established a healthy, well-run community, and their children are thriving. However, if any child wishes to leave the island, I will not prevent that from happening. I will not be taking questions at this time.”
On the bench across from us, Andrew gave his father a wide, sunny smile. “We get to stay together?” he asked.
“No, buddy,” McTaggert said sadly. “Remember what we talked about? You’re going to be living with Simon and Caleb Hewitt for a while. You’ll have a room of your own, and a tutor so you can learn things and get to be as smart as your big brother Ethan.”
Andrew chewed on his lower lip. Simon had agreed to take Andrew in for the time being, rather than have him return to the prison. As much as I disliked Andrew’s being separated from his father, it was the best decision for now. My own home was too much of a wreck for a child. But I’d already made plans to fly out next week to visit them both.
And maybe with Alexia Lowe on the cusp of receiving a federal pardon, Muriel would follow her mother to freedom—freedom that came with personal risks. Even though another dozen or so young Metas had come forward to help since the earthquake, and even though authorities openly admitted our assistance had saved thousands of lives, a large portion of the general population still didn’t trust us. No one officially blamed Metas for the earthquake, and even Humankind has shut up about that lately, but sometimes I look at a stranger and see the fear in their eyes.
Some things just never changed.
One of the guards came over and said the plane was ready. Andrew hugged me for a long time. I hated letting him go when I’d just found him. “We’ll see each other soon,” I said. I ruffled his hair. “Promise.”
“Good.” Andrew’s eyes were shiny and wet when he pulled away and gave Aaron a quick hug.
I shook McTaggert’s hand—something I’d never imagined I would do. “Take care of yourself,” he said.
“I will,” I replied.
To Aaron, McTaggert said, “See that he does?”
Aaron nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
McTaggert took Andrew’s hand, and the pair turned to follow the quartet of prison guards out to the waiting plane. Aaron and I stayed behind in the hangar, where a handful of Guardsmen were waiting until the next supply shipment arrived. We stood there, together, until a small jet took to the sky, heading east with my family.
Part of it, anyway.
“I suppose we should get back to work,” Aaron said. “Teresa said this morning’s aftershock trapped—”
My com buzzed in my pocket—a signal from Teresa. “Speak of the devil,” I said. I stuck the earpiece in. “This is Tempest, go ahead.”
<It’s Trance. I need you and Aaron at Hollywood Park right now for a meeting.>
I didn’t like the tremor in her voice. “What’s going on?”
<Bad news. After this morning’s aftershock, the Corps of Engineers has declared everything from San Fernando to San Clemente too unstable for continued habitation.>
My heart hammered against my ribs. I reached for Aaron, and he took my hand without question. “Which means what?” I asked Teresa.
She made a choked sound. <It means we’re evacuating. Los Angeles is being abandoned.
Acknowledgments
A hearty thank-you to my editor, Adam Wilson, for bravely taking up a series mid-stream and bringing so much to it—thank you for embracing the MetaWars world. Also, big thanks to his intrepid assistant, Julia Fincher, and the entire team at Pocket Star Books. Thank you to my agent, Jonathan Lyons, for your work on this series.
Most of all, though, a huge thank-you and big hugs to my readers and fans of the MetaWars books. I wouldn’t be here without you, and your love of my merry little band of superheroes makes writing their stories a true pleasure.