Powers Perfected (eBook)

Justin T. Bailey (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
324 Seiten
Justin Bailey (Verlag)
978-0-00-066597-3 (ISBN)

Infos

After the events that put an end to the cartel that attacked Garrett and his family, Garrett is left reeling.  He can now remember dreams he's been having, moments of his past.  He knows now who he was before ending up in Iowa, and what his mission is, but no idea on how to complete it.       

What's more, it seems like the mysterious shrouded figure has switched from watching him, to actively trying to kill him.  After numerous attacks that are becoming more and more dangerous to those around him, Garrett is forced to leave his family and Celeste, in the hopes of keeping them safe.

He flees to Chicago, a place he recognizes from his dreams.  But having special powers means that sometimes Garrett has to help when no one else can.  Even if that means exposing him to the assassin once more.  

'Powers Perfected' delves deep into the themes of sacrifice, redemption, and the weight of power as Garrett faces his most daunting challenge yet.  A challenge that could either save millions of lives or destroy Garrett's last hope. 

  

Textauszug

CHAPTER ONE

Despised

 

 

I spear through the plane’s contrails, corkscrewing through the white mist. The large plane is only a quarter mile ahead of me, so I feel the wash of its four large engines. Its roar would normally be deafening, but I can turn down my extra hearing so that I’m not bothered.

My phone buzzes in my pants pocket, but I don’t bother reaching for it. It’s not that I’m worried I’ll drop it; my reflexes are so quick now that I could grab it again before I could blink. Besides, at this altitude of thirty thousand feet, even if I didn’t have super-quick reflexes, I’d still have plenty of time to fly down and grab it before anyone would be able to see me.

My phone buzzes insistently, but I continue to ignore it. The text could be from one of only a few people. It might be Susan, letting me know that dinner is ready, and that it would be nice if I ate with the family. Or it’s Dr. Rick Bradley asking if now is a good time to come over. Maybe it’s Trevor, wondering why I didn’t show up for school again today.

But I know who it is. The same person that has been texting me five times a day for the past week.

Normally, so many texts from one person would label them as someone who can’t take a hint. For me, it just lets me know that she still cares.

I don’t know how she can.

It’s been a week since our kidnapping at the hands of the Saldana’s Cartel. Almost my entire family, the Stillwells, were taken, along with my two friends, Celeste and Trevor.

Of course, Celeste became something more than a friend in the aftermath, which is part of the problem.

The whole reason they were put in danger was because of me. Someone evil had found out a bit of what I could do, and they had been willing to hurt anyone close to me to make me work for them.

I had tried to help everyone escape. But at the end, I had been useless. All of my new powers had been impotent.

But I, and everyone else that I loved was saved. It only took an event so massive that every news story is still talking about it, one week later.

1-1-1. One hundred and eleven seconds of pure agony for every man, woman, child, and animal on the planet. Scientists had even determined that plants felt that pain.

There’s no way that they could finalize a death tally, but the estimates have been increasing all week. There are still areas where rescue workers haven’t gotten to yet, as millions of wrecked cars sit derelict on every interstate in the world.

Even now, I can hardly make myself believe that over eight million people died, with hundreds of millions injured. Hospitals and morgues are still overflowing as governments try to deal with the massive influx of bodies. Tens of thousands of families have been wiped out. The effects are so far-reaching that I doubt there is a single person that wasn’t affected in some way.

Since 1-1-1 happened at 11:31 pm Eastern, the East Coast and Midwest of the United States were only minimally impacted. The Pacific and West states fared worse. But Europe, Africa, Asia, and Australia were hammered, as 1-1-1 happened during their work day.

Ironically, the places that were involved in rush hour traffic saved a lot of people’s lives. With bumper-to-bumper traffic moving at slow speeds, there were a lot of fender benders, but almost no casualties. Probably the only time in the history of man that someone was grateful to be stuck in a traffic jam. But anywhere else, there were massive pile-ups, hundreds of cars at a time.

It wasn't just traffic accidents, of course. Surgeons were interrupted during delicate procedures. Small aircraft without auto-pilots crashed. Ships going in and out of ports ran aground or rammed other ships.

The only person who didn’t feel that torture was me. Instead, it was thanks to that black cylinder that appeared that saved my family. But at the cost of so many others.

The guilt is like a dark monster, clawing at me, never leaving me alone. It chokes me whenever I hear about the funerals that have been announced for the day. I’m battered when I learn about another classmate that died with all or part of his family. It beats on me when I see the long lines of mangled cars stretching out of sight on the nightly news.

I know that I never liked Liam, one of my tormentors from high school, but I can’t help but feel pity and compassion for him now. He’s now an orphan, having lost both of his parents as they were coming back from a date.

And it’s all my fault. In under two minutes, I caused more deaths than every US war combined.

I’ve heard the argument numerous times, from Jack, Susan, Rick, and my friends. It’s not your fault, Garrett. You don’t control when the cylinders come. You don’t control what they do.

But I kind of do. The day after 1-1-1, I received my second yellow cylinder. I could tell the immediate benefits. It takes me microseconds to compute intensive calculations now. And I’m no longer plagued by my intelli-trances.

But it also allowed me to remember. Not everything from my previous life. But I guess I’ve been having dreams. Each time I’d wake up, I wouldn’t remember them. But now I do.

I was in my body, but I was older, more mature. Also, my consciousness was aware of the dream state, but I couldn't do anything. I had nicknamed my alter-ego Rett to cut down on the confusion.

I remember watching Rett, in a place that was falling apart. Being part of something called the Resistance. Working on a Project that was shrouded in mystery.

I remember people, too. Rett's best friend, Greggor... I shy away from thoughts on him. His girlfriend, Elizabeth. The head of the Resistance, Jarom. And Amanda, Rett's love. She’s the one that invented the antigravity that allows me to fly now.

I look at my hands. Somehow, I have antigravity nodes implanted in my hands, feet, and backside. They must run off of some kind of biological energy, because I don’t think I have an energy source in me somewhere. Though I can’t know for sure.

I also know a lot more about where my powers originate. My strength and speed are from directing a special kind of frequency at my pituitary gland. This has resulted in giving me the same benefits that adrenaline does, but without any of the normal side effects.

My extra senses and intelligence are from the same type of frequencies stimulating my brain.

It took a while for me to wrap my head around my healing power. Little robots called nanites are the cause. They can scan DNA, diagnose what’s wrong, and replicate what needs to be fixed, be it bone, blood, veins, or skin. They can leave my body to heal others, but if they are gone for too long, they die. They also need to reproduce after an extended healing session. That’s always why I have bad body aches afterwards. Even with that knowledge, it's hard to believe I have little robots swimming in my bloodstream.

I remember hearing about all these abilities, with Rett taking part in their development. In short, these cylinders are coming to me in no little part because of what Rett accomplished with them. So, these cylinders are my fault.

I look down towards the ground. I've been traveling southeast for about two hours, and I can see a large metropolis below me, cut in half by the Mississippi River. The river spreads like a glittering snake as far as I can see. This has to be St. Louis.

I wonder if this city even exists like this in my dream world. I know Chicago is vastly altered. It's one of the main reasons why Rett joined the Resistance in the first place.

The United States of America is gone, as is Canada and Central America. Instead, the North American continent is now one country, the Freed Countries of North America. It’s under the rule of two men, Krysis and Tek. Krysis is the head of the government, while Tek is his right-hand man.

Krysis has the terrible ability to control and manipulate any type of energy. Electrical, kinetic, magnetic, sound, nuclear, biochemical, electromagnetic, anything.

Tek also has powers. Someone with the innate knowledge of all types of machines, who has created horrible weapons and brutal devices.

I remember Rett’s plight as a twelve-year old, fleeing Chicago while warplanes flew overhead and bombs went off in front of them. Of running through a golf course, and being separated from his parents. Of living on the streets in New Chicago, becoming the leader of a gang that did their best to disrupt the new government. And finally, of being discovered by Jarom, and invited to join the Resistance.

Rett was twenty when I first joined him in these dreams, but I have no idea how much time has passed. I do know that their first building was attacked by Krysis’ troops, the Shock Squad, and more than half of the people were killed.

Rett fled with Greggor and Elizabeth, and found the new cell. It wasn’t long before Jarom promoted Rett to be the second in command, over the whole Resistance. The previous person, Alice, was assumed to have been killed in the attack.

Being second-in-command, only lower than Jarom, presented many trials. Older, more experienced members of the Resistance were constantly challenging him. It took a few months, but most of them eventually came around.

During this time, Rett began a relationship with Amanda. More than a few times I had to try to block Rett’s thoughts. Talk about awkward. I always tried to picture Celeste instead.

At the thought of Celeste, I finally lean over and grab my phone. The text is from her, and it’s simple: ‘I miss you. I hope you feel better.’

That’s it....

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 25.2.2024
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Science Fiction
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-066597-5 / 0000665975
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-066597-3 / 9780000665973