“Where the hell is this place, Randall?” said Gemma Melendez. The dark haired, bronze skinned, forty-five year old, sat in the driver’s seat of her self-driving car. Sipping coffee and trying to pull up files on her laptop. Paying attention to everything but the road. Following the perilous tendencies of many who owned a smart-vehicle.

“Sorry, boss. The GPS says it should be coming up on the right.” said Randall Spencer. A balding, dark skinned, man with a weak chin and a tendency for perspiring under pressure. His suit already soaked through despite the car having its A/C on and the season being on the verge of turning into winter.

Gemma was one of the operations manager of a small, privately owned, company by the name of Valkyrie Tech. The company produced obscure but valuable components for certain magitech devices. Grossing an average income of roughly 100 million dollars per year.

At this point in the company’s life cycle the head executives believed it was time for the company to expand. Which was where Mr. Spencer came in. Randall Spencer was an employee of the largest real estate and property management firms in all of Pennsylvania.

The real estate firm sent Randall because despite being constantly covered in flop sweat and rarely looking like he knew what he was doing, the man was a shark. A master of closing the deal. Exactly the kind of man you wanted on the case when you had a two billion dollar transaction on the line.

“I...I think I see it, ma’am.” said Lewis Vega. Gemma’s young assistant. A dark haired, bright eyed, young man.

Gemma looked towards the part of the road the assistant was indicating. Frowning.

“Where?”

“Um, the site is supposed to have a statue of a man holding two big donuts over their head, right, ma’am?” said Lewis.

“Yes.” said Gemma.

“Then I think it’s right over there, ma’am…Well, it was right over there. We’re kind of going a little fast so we’ve probably left it a little bit behind us.” said Lewis.

Gemma looked and then she frowned. She’d seen it too. Seeing a tacky thirty foot tall statue of a gigantic fat man holding two large donuts. The statue holding one like its a shield and the other like it was a sword.

“Oh, fuck me...No wonder! Bibi, turn off at the nearest exit. It looks like counter to what you’ve told us, Mr. Spencer we “can’t” reach the town using the highway?” said Gemma. Giving the man an accusatory look.

The car responded with a cherry chirrup in the affirmative as it slowly pulled out of the fast lane into the rightmost lane where the highway turnoffs ay.

“What?! That doesn’t make any sense? The information I was given and the route being plotted by the mapping app says that their should have been an exit leading right to the town.” said Randall. Pulling up his smart phone and frowning as it confirmed his words.

“Yes...Well, perhaps the city recently made a few adjustments. Perhaps the mapping softwares just using old data. I don’t know. Nor do I care. I just want to see the site before the evening’s over. I need to make an inspection and report to my superiors before this deal goes any further.” said Gemma. Still typing away on her laptop.

“R-, Right. No problem. It’s all the same so long as we get there, right?” said Randall. Laughing nervously.

They drove off the highway as soon as they found an exit. The car followed a renewed route on the normal streets. Making its way through traffic. Eventually the number of cars on the road thinned and the surroundings took on a dusty, aged, feel to them. The sky turning sepia tone.

“Obstruction in the road.” said the atonal voice of Bibi, the car’s AI.

“The hell?” said Gemma. Looking up from an email she’d been drafting.

The car came to a stop. Randall leaned his head out of the open window and then after chewing on the inside of his cheek a bit he slapped the door of the car and turned to his client.

“It seems like no one’s been up these roads in a bit...That should be an easy fix though. I just need a little music.”

“Huh? Uh, sure…Bibi, turn on the radio please.” said Gemma.

The car chirruped in the affirmative and soon the air was filled with the sultry, energetic, beats of a spanish pop ballad. Then the radio died.

“Shit...I think the rental place gave me a car with a broken sound system or something. Do you want me to try using my phone?” said Gemma.

“Eh? What are you talking about. There’s already plenty of music here. Just turn it up so I can hear it outside the car.” said Randall. Opening the car door.

Gemma frowned. Not sure what the man was talking about. Unable to hear anything. The area was completely silent. Beyond the soft whine of her laptop’s fans there wasn't any noise to be heard. In fact, after being put in idle for several minutes, even the car had ceased to make noise. Pausing its playback of artificial engine noises.

As he stepped outside, Randall rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t always been a realtor. The sweaty fifty-two year old had once been a hot blooded young man with big dreams and the potential to actually pursue those ambitions.

The ENE event left the human race as a whole, irrevocably changed. For the most part this change was small. An increased tendency to be born with webbed toes, an increased sensitivity to the paranormal, and a high likelihood of having hair or eye colors that would ordinarily not be seen in nature. Nothing too dramatic.

However there was a 1 out of 5 segment of the total human population who had been dramatically. Gaining superpowers and other supernatural abilities. Randall Spencer was one of that 1 of 5 segment of the population. Randall Spencer was part of the 20% of the population with powers.

He’d actually once been part of the Heroes Guild. Operating as a state licensed vigilante. His hero name back then had been “Captain Bass”. People had mistaken him for one of the aquatic or fish based supers.

What the name really referred to was his ability to take sound and convert it into strength multiply his physical abilities based on how loud things go around him. Any random noises could be made use of, but his powers worked best with ordered noise aka music.

“Wow...That’s actually something.” said young Lewis. His jaw dropping as he watched the older man mozy down the road.

Punting aside the hunks of cement that cluttered the road. The younger man’s eyes grew wide as he shoulder aside the numerous old cars that had been left rusting on the asphalt.

“Yes. It is something. Bibi, continue proceeding down the road. Be careful not to hit the nice man clearing the way for us.” said Gemma.

The car chirruped twice and began trailing after Randall as he continued clearing the way. The three travellers driving deeper into an area that clearly hadn’t been visited in a long, long, time.

*************************************************************************************************************

Days later an old yellow bus would make its way up a certain road. The driver eyeing the debris that lined the side of the road. PS 118 aka Gerald Yang Highschool was named after a moderately famous chinese-american general who saved a lot of lives during the great collapse.

Today Gerald Yang High’s graduating class had their college visits. Several buses worth of students going to various colleges within the state of Pennsylvania. This particular bus happened to get lost on its way back from the Skycrest College one of the smaller schools within the state.

Thomas Yu was eighteen going on nineteen. He had no clue what he was going to do with his life beyond knowing without a doubt in his mind that he was nowhere near book smart enough to be a doctor or an engineer like his mother and father kept exhorting him to be.

He’d signed up for the trip to Skycrest because one of his friends had told him that the school let visiting students watch the practice sessions of the student’s from their hero-curriculum. Thomas’ friend was right, and it probably would have been quite the sight, had the practices not been rained out today.

Instead Thomas and the rest of the students of PS 118 were forced to sit through a long and slide show about what the school had to offer. Which actually wasn’t that bad if you were planning to be a superhero or go into the liberal arts.

Now Thomas just wanted to get back to school. Go home. Watch some tv and eat some of the food that had been saved from last night’s dinner. Then at the end of the day, if he had any energy left, he’d maybe run one out before going to sleep.

What Thomas didn’t want was to be stuck on the road. Lost for hours. What he didn’t want was to be trapped in the bus, in the middle of nowhere. Stuck listening to the strange and unsettling piano music that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Music that for whatever reason only he could hear.