“We'll soon find out,” Jack said. He felt so lost and alone, and he could not help imagining what Emily and his mother were going through right now. Whenever he blinked, he was presented with terrible possibilities: Emily strapped down with probes being driven into her eyes; his mother on her back, chest plate cracked, and her heart beating in her open chest. He wanted to cry and rage at the visions, but he knew that for now, silence was their friend.
And now he felt different inside, constantly changing, an astounding potential swelling so large that he was surprised he did not burst apart. I know things, he thought. I can see things. He looked at his hands and knew they could heal. When he blinked, he saw constellations of power across the insides of his eyelids. The Nomad had seeded a change within him, but he was not yet sure how he could tell Sparky and Jenna.
“So what now?” Jenna asked.
“Now, we rescue Emily and my mum.”
“Damn right!” Sparky said.
“And then home,” Jenna sighed.
“No.” Jack shook his head. “And then back into the city.”
“But—”
“Jenna, if you had a chance to rescue your father from what he's become, would you take it?”
“You think there's really a chance?” Jenna asked, and Jack looked away, because the possible answers to that question were tearing him apart.
“I can't ask you both—” he began, but Sparky punched his arm and grabbed him in a headlock.
“You even suggest we leave you on your own, and I'll break your neck,” his friend growled.
Something drove along the street. The vehicle skidded to a halt, and boots thumped the pavement. “Every house,” someone shouted in the distance, “every room, every basement!”
“Oh, hell, that's not good,” Sparky said, letting Jack go.
“It'll be okay.” A curious calm settled over Jack, and every time he remembered Nomad's face, and tasted her finger in his mouth, the calmness intensified. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. When he opened them again, someone was sliding down the chute into the basement.
Torchlight probed the darkness.
“Still and quiet,” Jack whispered, holding his two friends’ hands.
The soldier was just a shadow behind his heavy torch, a silhouette spiked with weapons and breathing heavily with fear, or excitement.
Jack closed his eyes and opened his mind, and instinct found something new.
“What the hell—”
“Torch hit me right across my eyes, and—”
“As if we were invisible!”
Jack hushed them both. “Nomad touched me,” he said.
“The first vector!” Jenna gasped.
“And still contagious. I feel so much. My senses, broadening. I know things I shouldn't. Not just one thing, but many. It's scary.” But even he knew that his voice did not sound afraid.
It sounded exhilarated.
They waited in the basement while the searching Choppers melted away into the distance.
And later, when Jack and his friends started making plans, he saw the careful glances they cast his way, and he sensed their unease.
As if he was no longer the Jack they used to know.