Eye of the Sh*t Storm by Jackson Ford (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

Before she can respond, there are hands under her armpits, pushing her upright. Something with a few soft edges – a pack or bag, maybe? – is pushed under her upper back.

They’re in a park, on what looks like gentle slope. The slope leads down to a wide expanse of grass – a soccer field, Reggie realises, currently empty. There’s a basketball court beyond it.

“What the hell did you do to me?” she croaks. “What was that?” There are so many other questions she has, but right now, there’s nothing more important. She was back in Nemila, back in that room, and she knew it was real. How did—?

The woman sighs. “I can’t control what he makes people see. I can barely control him. I’m glad I caught you when I did – if you stay in the worlds he makes for too long, it’s much harder to get out.”

She has a soft voice, almost delicate. “Are you cool enough?” she asks.

“My – I’m sorry, what?”

“Your body temperature. I’m aware that differently abled people sometimes have trouble with—”

“Differently abled?” Reggie snarls. Whatever’s happening right here, she’s not about to let whoever this is pull out that old chestnut. “I’m disabled.”

“I… apologise. I meant no disrespect.”

Reggie’s awareness is coming back now, along with a dose of righteous fury. That man – these people – put her back in the worst memory of her entire life. She has no idea how the hell that is possible, but she feels… violated. Unclean.

“Listen here,” she says, “you plan on putting a blanket on me, you better keep that pretty nose clear, ’less you want it bitten off.”

“Do you need any water?” the woman says, as if Reggie hadn’t spoken. “The sedative might make you thirsty, I think.”

Reggie’s throat is a barren wasteland, the headache still blaring in her skull. She yet again tamps down on her anger, grunts an assent. A water bottle is held to her lips, and she sips delicately. It helps, a little.

She thought the man’s lips were moving silently, but that’s not quite true. He’s whispering to himself, very quietly, and very quickly.

“Why are we here?” Reggie asks.

“We won’t be bothered, even when Teagan joins us.”

Teagan. Reggie closes her eyes, helpless anger flooding through her.”

Just like that, Reggie remembers the knife. She glances down at her pocket – it’s still there, the handle tenting the fabric ever so slightly. The woman didn’t frisk her, probably didn’t think she needed to.

Except: there’s no possible way she can find it, slip her fingers into the handle, pull it out and use it – not before the woman takes it away.

No matter how far Reggie turns her head, she can only catch a glimpse of the woman from the very corner of her eye.

“This is about the boy?” she asks. “Isn’t it?”

“You could say that.”

“Why’d you send him? What is it you’re trying to—?”

“Send him?” The woman makes an irritated mouth noise. “I didn’t send him anywhere. He wasn’t even supposed to be here.”

“You’re not doing very well then, are you?” Reggie spits. “This is the second enhanced child you’ve lost in a year.”

“Enhanced.” Amusement in her voice now. “I suppose you could call us that.”

Us.

“In any case,” the woman goes on. “Matthew certainly wasn’t lost. He did exactly what he was supposed to.”

“What, nearly destroy the whole damn west coast?”

Another pause, as if the woman is weighing up whether or not she wants to talk to Reggie. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Try me.”

“No. I don’t think so. This isn’t a comic book. I’m not just going to explain everything while we wait for Teagan. Especially not to someone who works for the intelligence services.”

“There is no end,” the man whispers. “Only the black only the walls and halls and lights—”

Reggie closes her eyes, trying to shut out the insane words. Whoever this woman is, she was planning to make use of the two boys – Matthew Schenke, with his power over the earth, and the boy who can control electricity. More than anything else, what Matthew did caused chaos. It destabilised Los Angeles, fractured it. It changed the status quo.

She’s trying to do the same to the whole country. She wants to take over.

But that’s absurd. You couldn’t take over the United States. Even for somebody in command of enhanced individuals, it was too big. Too many people, too many balls you’d have to keep in the air, too much ground to cover. At best, you could hold a small section of it, but even that wouldn’t last long – not when you’d face resistance within and without.

So what, then?

Maybe she wasn’t trying to take over. Maybe she was simply trying to destroy, bring the country to its knees. But that didn’t make sense either. What did that even mean? In real terms? The United States isn’t a single thing. It’s towns and cities, people and ideas, scattered across thousands of miles. Trying to destroy it in any meaningful way is pointless – and Reggie has the sense that this woman, whoever she is, would know that.

Reggie is hurting, but she’s awake now. The pieces whirl in her mind. The two boys. The woman. Teagan. The School. Round and round they go.

And then just like that: they snap together.

What was it the woman said? You couldn’t possibly understand. This isn’t about power, or destruction.

This is about survival.

“Money,” Reggie says, breathless.

The woman doesn’t reply. But Reggie could swear she shifts slightly, her clothing rasping against the grass.

“All of this… you’re doing it for money.” Reggie speaks quickly, trying to keep up with the torrent of thoughts. “What did you do, short the markets before the quake? Invest in construction?” It sounds so boring, so mundane – but what else could it be? “You’re trying to buy your way out. You want people – your people, enhanced people – to be safe. You’re trying to protect them from the government. From everybody.”

It made sense. If you controlled disasters, if