Chapter 8:

I didn’t watch the press conference the next morning and when Ronnie went to talk about it, I walked away. I knew what the results were. Me and my Biology book kept the squirrels’ company.

Two days later, Dr. Evil, the Sheriff, and a man in a suit, the same age as Doc Martin were waiting for me on the lawn. They came prepared for a wait; cheese, wine, crackers, blankets, water, and a huge battery lantern set on low.

It was now almost two hours after midnight, I noticed them arriving hours ago but did my best to ignore them.

Not feeling like talking, I read longer than normal. My glowing could be read by, I had discovered. But when Ronnie kicked my sole and told me to go home, I gave up waiting them out.

“Nate, come take a seat. You too Veronica,” Dr. Evil called out.

Discovering the true reason behind my delaying our return home, Ronnie shot me the LooK.

“I’m tired, I was hoping to go to bed.”

“You’re young. Come sit.”

I sat between Doc Martin and Sheriff Mallory. Ronnie sat across from me. Both of us were given a glass of white wine and a plate filled with crackers, grapes, salami, and cheese.

It was my first taste of wine and I liked it, if a bit sweet.

“That old man across from you is Lawrence Krupke,” Dr. Evil teased his guest. “He’s from the CDC and would like to hear your story.”

“I’ve already told it. There’s nothing new.”

“Humor me,” Doc Evil pressed. “Oh, Missy woke up today and is starting to walk.”

I grimaced. To him, they were all Dr. Evil’s children. To me they were one time test subjects. Or that was what I told myself.

I gave the short version of my life from 13 to 16 including the last month.

“Have you been granted Scionship?” The man in the suit asked once I mostly finished.

“I don’t know. Lu got dad’s death certificate. He was supposed to be handling all that.”

Meaningful looks past between the three, four of them. I was not included in their silent communication.

“Lu Tang is your lawyer, and he filed a suit against the PRA for 100 million dollars. His minor ward is the Super who is the subject of the dispute. I see no reason why he will not be released in a day or two,” noted the suit.

“It’s a major conflict of interest. No judge will let the PRA keep custody of the lawyer suing them for such an amount. Unless they have very substantial evidence of his wrongdoing, they will need to release him or be facing even a larger suit from the bar, himself, and sanctions from Oversight,” Doc Martin explained for me.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Lu is not a Super, is he?” the CDC guy asked.

“No,” I confirmed. I knew that for a fact.

“Then the PRA has no jurisdiction over him, nor legal right to hold him. It was a power move against you, that will end up costing them. Probably more than your initial lawsuit,” the guy in a suit explained.

Politics and government infighting. Yay...

“Nathan, how much did the Russians offer you?”

I scarfed a cracker, trying to mask my astonishment at the suit’s question.

“A lot.”

“You would be surprised what I consider a lot of money, young man.”

“Twenty-five million, a house. Four-million for bodyguards, working two days a week for nine months of the year.”

“Comparable to a pro basketball player. Leon Curtis made 33 million in salary this year.”

I shrugged; I had no interest in basketball. I used to like baseball but my TV reception sucked and I gave up on channel six. Football was the only sport I could watch anymore and the Chiefs missed the playoffs this year with a 9-6 record.

“If I offered you the same thirty-three million that Curtis makes, will you come work for us?”

“The PRA tried to kill me three days ago. Shot me here, here, here, and here. It’s also against the law for me to use my powers in public.”

“Not if you are a government employee.”

There was that. But you had to be 18...

“And I wait for two years. Until then. She wants me too, but can’t act until I’m older.” I pointed at Ronnie with a half-eaten cracker.

“That is for military service. The CDC hires students. Normally they are all medical students. But we can make an exception.”

“They still want to kill me.”

“Yes, the PRA seems to dislike you. That is an obstacle for me to overcome, not you, when you come work for us.

“I kinda like the three months off too.”

“Do you speak Russian?”

“Might take me a year or two to learn. And there are the two days a week thing, and the Eurail pass. That sounds awesome.”

“It does sound nice. I spent two weeks riding the Rail when I was younger. What would you do between the times you weren’t working at a hospital? I take it you would be spending your two days there.”

“I don’t know. Studying, playing, traveling. Things like that. Oh, and a large house with a pool. I’d get one of those too.”

“With thirty-three million dollars a year, you can buy a great house in Atlanta with plenty of money left over. As for time off, I would encourage you to attend medical school. You would be wasted anywhere else.”

“What would you have me do?”

“The same as you did Tuesday at Community General.”

“Children only.” I stated. I wasn’t compromising.

“Why only children. Laudable, but not just children get ill.”

I had thought of a better answer. Not the real one, but the ones that adults could accept.

“Two houses are on fire, one has three people in it, one has one. I can only save the people in one house. Choose.”

“Are children that much easier to treat? I would think that the difficulty would be the complexity and the severity of the illness, not the size of the individual.”

“Kids are easier. Don’t ask me why, they just are.”

They were, just not that much, two to one, ish. But some were harder than that.

Mr. Suit, seemed to accept my assertation but pressed. “If there were a serious contagion, would you not help?”

“Did you vote in the last election?”

“I did.”

“69%. I’m tired. If you are serious. Put it in writing. I am going to bed.”

They didn’t try and stop me. Ronnie did stay and listen to what they had to say. I’d hear about it tomorrow or the next day. He was a politician too. In the end, no one else could have offered me that much money from a government agency.

...

“Nate, what are you waiting for?” Ronnie suddenly asked while reading against a nearby tree.

“I don’t know. A sign for God maybe.”

“Really, what are you waiting for?”

“There have been nine attempts to enter my forest in the last week. All by class IIs. I want to see what they want. So, I wait.”

“What about reapplying for your GED?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“ISF. My bank account is frozen. I tried a few days ago at your place and was rejected.”

“You could have asked me to pay.”

“Still under house arrest. Still subject to PRA removing my name from the list. Why bother.” Not once did I look up from my book.

“Are you giving up?”

“No. Tonight, I am going for a walk. Over there is someone hiding. I want to see what they want.”

“A Super?”

“A Class III. Ugh, I think they make these terms stupidly long intentionally. Meiosis and mitosis. They are stupidly similar and yet different. I just read a paragraph with not one word under three syllables.”

“How long are you going to wait?”

“Until someone offers me a good way out of this fucked up situation.”

“What about the offer from the CDC last night?”

“I’m sixteen, they will want me to work sixty or more hours a week. I’ll still be confined to home or work. And nothing will get done with the PRA on my ass. Just two politicians exchanging phone calls.”

“Don’t you think that the PRA will back off, once you are a government employee?”

“Did they read me my rights before shooting me from a mile away?” Their control or death. No middle ground.

“You won’t stay.”

“Not unless they make it legal for me to use my Powers. I would be stupid to.”

She sighed. Shrugging too, taking my job.

“You couldn’t even get your boss to help me out,” I unhelpfully reminded her.

Ronnie was old enough to not try and convince a mule headed sixteen year old to do something he refused to do or listen when he stopped listening. An occasional suggestion or suddenly brought up topic that let me slowly be led to the water of her all-knowing ways, was her method of late after blunt force failed.

For me, working in a country where my work was against the law was a recipe for disaster. I would have to do whatever the CDC, in this case, said or get fired. As soon as that happened, I would be arrested by the Agency and it would all start over again.

I would HAVE to do what they say for the rest of my life. Or else.

Freedom, my ass.

...

Ignoring the ever-present copter overhead, I journeyed north after dinner, stopping a quarter mile from the Super. There I sat until close to midnight when he approached. I didn’t believe that he was hiding from me but the ever present watchers above.

“You aren’t an easy man to contact.” A man with a British accent called out before approaching.

“Not my fault.”

“May I sit?”

“Sure. You have about ten minutes before someone notices. I think.”

“I bring two proposals, both better than the American’s.”

Two?

“I’m listening.

Briefly, Mr. John Jons bullet-pointed the British followed by the French offers, leaving two USBs behind. I didn’t know how good his stealth was but I didn’t See him get caught on the way out.

He was right, both were better. Less money, but more freedom. The Brit one worried me. I thought that a lot of hours were implied where the French one wasn’t worded that way, at least by his verbal overview.

My street and the next were still empty. No one had been allowed to return home. Probably making me even more popular with the neighbors. Ever since the shooting, the Feds had cleared out the people around my house. I wondered about their clothes, food, pets and other mundane life things while lying in bed.

Ronnie was silent again today after the initial attempt to find out what I planned. But she did give me space when I asked to meet with the British courier. I entered into her house upon returning and sat down with her computer and opened up the blue USB. It was exactly as Mr. Jons stated with just more detail.

“I think they want me to work a full schedule. What do you think?” Ronnie was beside me as I shared my 15” laptop.

“Yes. It’s ambiguous, intentionally.”

I saved the info to the ‘offers’ folder and opened the red one.

“This isn’t from France...” That wasn’t the French flag.

“No.” Ronnie sounded resigned after we both read and reread Norway’s proposal.

“250 thousand dollars per nine hour day. Unlimited days, no minimum, either a penthouse suite or a house would be provided. In or around Oslo...

Taking a breath, “Health Minister Inga Bork asks that; ‘Please help the sick and wounded children of her beautiful nation heal’, at my discretion. Anything else I chose to do would also be appreciated... ‘No taxes would be assessed from the wages earned while working with the Ministry’.”

“Umm...”

“Yeah, ‘Umm’ is right,” Ronnie sounded tired.

“How much do millionaires pay in taxes?”

“39%,” she responded instantly. Probably everyone knew that but me.

“So, the suit, was offering me twenty mil after taxes.”

“Everyone pays taxes Nathan.”

“Did you see that offer!?!”

“Yes, I did, Nathan.” She sounded tired...

“What is Russia’s personal tax rate?”

“I don’t know.” We looked it up, 13%.

“25 times .87 is 21.75 that’s two million more than here. And for two days. Not a billion hours.”

“The CDC won’t have you work a billion hours, Nathan,” she sounded exasperated.

“Bet? Look here.” I tabbed a bookmark. “No restrictions on 16-17 year olds in work places in Georgia. Almost every other state has limits, like not between 10 pm and 5 am. Or limits to 48 hours per week. None in Atlanta...”

“Nathan. They might ask you to work forty hours. Just tell them that you need to recharge.”

“That’s the point. Don’t you see?”

“I see you making excuses not to stay.”

“What happens if I refuse to heal an asshole from the Agency? Huh, then what?”

“Then you don’t heal, him.”

“And do you think my new bosses will let that slide? What about all the other adults that I will not heal. I mean it. If I stay, it will be kids only. Period.”

“You aren’t being reasonable. Not just children need healing.”

“Ronnie. Kids Are easier, much easier. Over two to one easier. Cheryl had ten times as much wrong with her as Lu, but was easier to Heal. Missy was about dead from all her system failures with Leukemia. She was easier than Lu but just took longer. And Lu only is fifty-two with nothing really wrong with him besides age.”

“And you hold the 69 percent against the world.”

“Damn right, I do. Do you blame me? Look around. Where are my neighbors? Why is my power turned off? Why was my dad held in a prison cell next to a rod of iron for three years? Why is Lu in prison? I will tell you why. They all wanted it. They are afraid of boogiemen. The butcher, baker and candle stick maker, all voted that way. Now they want my help. Only because I can be of use.

“Am I wrong?” I was tirade-ing again.

“Have you ever thought that you Healing everyone, might change the people’s perspective of Supers?”

“So, it’s my job to Heal everyone on their say so, in order to help the public opinion of Supers as a whole. Shitty. I am going to bed.”

“Nathan!”

“Veronica. Sixteen! Haven’t graduated from high school and probably never will. Can’t drive after 10:00 pm, can’t drink, smoke, vote, buy a gun, serve in the military. I am not even allowed to see a friggin R-Rated movie without an adult. Go ahead and tell me that anyone will listen to my opinions two seconds after I Heal their brother-sister-wife-husband. Right. Nite.” I stomped up the stairs slamming my door and brooded all night. Only needing fours of sleep sometimes sucked.

Sheriff Mallory drove down my street with two men during breakfast, one a Class I. Curious, I walked to the front door with my bowl of Cheerios in hand and waited behind the screen. A twenty something man in all black with a black turned over collar with two inches of white showing exited the back seat, the older one in the front seat was in a gray suit with the same black and white collar.

“No way in hell.” In utter disgust, I shoveled three more spoonful’s in my mouth before setting the bowl in the sink, grabbed my backpack and an extra water, dashing out to the doorwall.

“What’s up, Nate?” Ronnie asked, reading her morning Stars and Stripes.

“YOU have guests.” I hurried away as fast as I could. Priests ... no way.

Ronnie joined me an hour later, disappointed in me at my leaving her with the Priests.

“Ooh you have ‘God’s Gift, you need to share it with the world... ‘. Right.”