My mobile lit up almost immediately, saying someone else had seen Obliteration. Directions to the building followed.
In the middle of that, Megan messaged again.
I really need to talk to you about something.
This isn’t exactly a good time, I sent back.
Great. Fine.
The terseness of that reply made me sick inside. I was turning her away after practically begging her to talk to me earlier? I glanced at Prof. He seemed absorbed by his driving, and the sub didn’t move quickly. I probably had plenty of time. How suspicious would it be?
Well, maybe I can spare some time to chat. I pressed SEND.
No reply.
Sparks. Why did everything have to happen at once? I waited for a response, submarine engines churning, sweat trickling down the sides of my face. Sitting up front here, you could see the whole underwater world stretching out before you, seemingly into infinity itself. Thinking about all this nothing made my hair stand on end.
I bent down over my mobile and sent another message to Megan. Do you know why Regalia claimed she can make Epics?
This time I got a response almost immediately. She said what?
She told me she’d made someone into an Epic, I wrote back. She seemed to think it would scare me. I think she wanted me to decide that we can’t fight back because she can send an unending string of Epics at us.
What did you tell her? Megan asked.
Can’t remember exactly. I think I laughed at her.
You never were very bright, Knees. That woman is dangerous.
But she literally had us in her grasp at one point! I wrote back. She let us go. I don’t think she wants us dead. Anyway, why do you think she would claim something that ridiculous? Did she really think I’d believe she could make someone into an Epic?
Megan didn’t respond for a time.
We really need to meet, she finally wrote to me. Where are you?
Heading into the city, I said.
Perfect.
Prof is with me, I added.
Oh.
You could meet with both of us, I wrote to her. Explain yourself. He’d listen.
It’s more complicated than that, Megan wrote. I was a spy for Steelheart, and I infiltrated Prof’s own team. When it comes to his precious Reckoners, Phaedrus is like a mother bear with her cubs.
Huh? I wrote back. No, that’s wrong.
What?
I don’t think that metaphor works, Megan. Prof is a dude, so he can’t be a mother bear.
David, you are a complete and utter slontze.
I could hear the smile in her tone. Sparks, I missed her.
I’m an adorable one though, right? I wrote to her.
A pause, during which I found myself sweating.
I wish it was so easy, her message finally came. I really, really wish it.
It can be, I wrote back. You still willing to meet?
And Phaedrus?
I’ll find a way to lose him, I wrote as Prof began to take the sub to the surface. Will message you later. I then tucked the mobile into my pocket.
“We there?” I asked.
“Almost,” Prof replied.
“You’ve been pretty quiet this trip.”
“I’ve been trying to decide if I should send you back to Newcago or not.”
The words hit me like a slug from a .44 Special. I blinked, searching for a response. “But … you said when we came here, you said you were bringing me because you needed me.”
“Son,” Prof said softly, “if you think I can’t kill Epics without you, then you must have a low opinion of my skills. If I decide you shouldn’t be part of this operation, then you’ll be out. Period.”
“But why would you decide that?”
Prof piloted in silence for a moment, steering the sub slowly around a large chunk of floating debris—it looked like a hot dog stand. “You’re a good point man, David,” Prof said. “You think quickly and you solve problems. You have excellent instincts under fire. You’re bold and aggressive.”
“Thank you?”
“And you’re exactly the sort of person I’ve avoided recruiting over the years.”
I frowned.
“You haven’t noticed?” Prof asked.
Now that he mentioned it … I thought about Cody, and Exel, and Abraham, and Mizzy. Even Val, to an extent. They weren’t gun-toting, shoot-’em-up types. They were reserved, careful, slow to act.
“I’ve noticed,” I said. “But I didn’t really put it together until now.”
“The Reckoners are not an army,” Prof said. “We’re not even a special forces unit. We’re trap-layers. We’re patient and conservative. You’re none of those things. You’re a firecracker, always urging us to action, to change the plan. This is good, in a way. You think big, son. It takes people with big dreams