Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,32
of pet villains, but Iridium didn’t turn back to help.
She got on the first hover bus heading toward Wrigley Field.
CHAPTER 14
JET
Approached Everyman today. Mixed success. Will make second attempt tomorrow during meeting. Remain convinced Everyman is best source of funding and materials for Project Sunstroke.
—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #273
The air over Third Street was choked with noxious fumes, acrid with black smoke and ash. Jet formed a Shadowmask over her nose and mouth to filter the worst of the pollution. As it settled onto her face, the Shadow voices whispered and giggled, as if stealing a kiss. She ignored them; people’s lives were in jeopardy. She’d have to lose her mind later.
Throngs of people were crowded in the street, blocking traffic more effectively than a dam as they gawked at the furious blaze spilling out of the corner building. Between the firefighters combating the worst of the flames and the police barricading the pedestrians, things seemed to be well in hand.
Jet circled overhead, thinking that maybe she didn’t have to step in at all. Besides, the newsies were already here, their lights and cameras working overtime. Good—she’d ask the fire chief if she could be of any assistance, and assuming the answer was no, she was out of there.
And then she could ponder Taser’s offer without the man himself hovering over her.
“Freak!”
She stiffened. Even over the roar of the hoses and the rush of the fire, the word had carried.
Jet looked at the crowd, feigning dispassion, and she saw how people were pointing at her now, talking angrily, their voices lost to the background noise but their body language all too clear. She was used to being hated—even when she’d been the official Hero of New Chicago, she’d never made any inroads with the police, and Everyman despised her as much as she despised them—but the insults still stung. Only she was almost too tired to care.
Others were picking up the catcall now, creating a steady chant of “Freak! Freak! Freak!” Not the entire crowd, at least; some were noticeably arguing against the slur, and there were a few vain attempts to cheer her on. But those voices were easily dwarfed by the reality of too many extrahumans gone mad, of too much destruction and terror, of a lifelong trust not merely broken but shattered.
Jet closed her eyes. Light, it hurt. All she wanted to do was help people. And yet, they hated her. She’d never go so far as to say fear her—really, how could they? She was a hero. People didn’t fear their heroes.
How many extrahumans would it take to rule the world? To crush humanity under their feet?
She shuddered, remembering Martin Moore’s warbling old man’s voice.
“Freak!” the crowd screamed at her now, their hatred staining the skies far worse than the smoke from the fire.
“You, Shadow Girl,” a woman’s voice rang out, as if she had a voice enhancer.
Jet opened her eyes and peered down. The woman calling to her looked like a melting lemon drop in her cheerfully yellow unisuit and matching yellow earrings. The red-backed sunburst badge over her ample bosom marked her as a higher-up in the Everyman Society, possibly even the regional chairwoman. Jet grimaced behind the Shadowmask over her nose and mouth as she floated to the ground to hover before the woman in yellow. “My designation is Jet, ma’am.”
The woman jabbed a finger at her—Jet noted that the fingernail was tapered, and long, and exactly the same shade as the unisuit. She also noted how the chanting had stopped. Definitely the regional chairwoman. The woman declared, “This is your fault!”
Professional, Jet told herself. Polite. Powerful. The three P’s of extrahuman civil servants—especially when the news was picking up every word. “What is, ma’am?”
“This!” The woman gestured broadly, taking in the burning building, the city block, the entirety of New Chicago itself. “The world has fallen apart because your kind has declared war on regular, everyday humans!”
“Ma’am,” Jet said, her voice hinting on a growl, “I realize that things have gone mad, but not all extrahumans are causing such chaos. My colleagues and I—”
“Your colleagues have destroyed New Chicago, New York, central Texas!” the woman spat. “Your colleagues have proven to everyone what the Everyman Society has said all along! You freaks are dangerous, and should be put down like the rabid dogs you are.”
The crowd, knowing a cue when it heard one, bleated “Freak! Freak! Freak!”
Jet took a deep breath, forced the anger back. “I’ve risked my life