Chapter 31: Forgiveness is a luxury

Jack squeezed his fingers around the seatbelt across his chest. He closed his eyes, struggling to remain calm as the large van accelerated and sped along The Outerbridge Crossing leading into Staten Island.

Andy had killed yet again. Several miles back they’d come across a dead family lying on the side of the road, all showing signs of death by Manipulation. Despite the need for haste, Paro had taken the time to at least cover what remained of their bodies—it wasn’t much—before they continued along and resumed the chase. From what the team could piece together, the three were only interested in the family’s vehicle, a silver Lexus ES.

One thing was clear though—their deaths were unnecessary. Jack still didn’t know much about Psychs, but he knew that the one called Ruin, the Telekinetic, could have easily pulled them from the vehicle and left them on the road. Instead, Andy had decided to slaughter even more people.

Jack cried out as the vehicle made a sharp left. The van tilted slightly and pulled into the wrong lane, cutting off slower moving automobiles in front of them. Cars honked and drivers screamed while the van raced over the bridge. Jack looked out of the rear window and noticed that some cars had even come to a stop. Furious drivers exited their vehicles and shook fists, probably wondering why on earth someone would drive like such a maniac.

The nineteen recon officers didn’t appear bothered by the reckless driving—neither the insane speed nor the angry shouts from civilian vehicles. Jack didn’t see any fear on their faces, except for the times when they looked over at him. Why did he, out of all people, intimidate the tough-looking men and women of the recon teams? Jack shook his head. He supposed that now wasn’t the time to find out. The recon officers sat with assault rifles held over their laps, hands gripping the weapons in a tight squeeze.

The rest of Paro’s team showed no trace of fear, either. Paro was up front, shouting orders at the driver while Sarah remained deep in concentration looking at the ground. The only time she looked up was to shout information at Paro, and then she’d return soon after to continue her Telepathy. Michael and Kazou were making small talk, and Melissa was sitting with her (gorgeous) legs folded while she read a fashion magazine.

Would now be a good time to make another move? Damn, I’m not good when it comes to women so I don’t know all the rules. Is a high-speed chase a good or bad time to turn up the heat? Michael would know.

Jack looked over to Michael. The blond-haired rogue met his eyes and tipped his cowboy hat. Jack didn’t know anything about Telepathy, but when it came to Michael, he didn’t need to. Lately, it seemed like the two could exchange feelings just by glancing at each other.

Jack winked, and for a fleeting moment, he shifted an eye over to Melissa. Then he returned to meet Michael’s gaze and raised a questioning eyebrow. “What do I do?” he thought with a shrug.

Michael had no issue picking up on Jack’s message. In return, he twirled his finger in the air then made a fist, slamming it into his palm. Jack understood the meaning perfectly. “Tell her she has nice hair.”

Jack summoned all of the courage he could muster and cleared his throat. “Hey, Melissa, I love your golden hair. You really are the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Melissa ignored the response and turned another page in her magazine. “Paro,” she said after a moment. “Jack and Michael are up to their nonsense again. Do something about it please.”

Paro glared at the two of them. “Cut it out, guys.”

Michael gave Paro a look of outrage. “I haven’t said a word to Jack, or Melissa for that matter, in like, ten minutes! She’s got no proof or nothin’.”

“I don’t care,” Paro growled. “I believe everything Melissa says, especially when it comes to you two damn Kinetics. Whatever it is you’re doing, cut it out and be serious.”

Unrestricted or not, Jack was being treated like the affinity he was born with. Paro had told Jack that his own natural affinity was Reinforcement, like Kazou or Melissa. Jack wondered if that was why Reinforcement was so much easier for Paro, or if that was why he used it more than anything else.

Jack didn’t think it was possible, but the van managed to pick up even more speed. It left the bridge and entered Staten Island. Jack watched in horror as they approached a tollbooth. The vehicle showed no signs of slowing down.

“Paro, aren’t we going to stop?” Jack asked.

“Like hell,” he said. He shouted an order to the driver and the van continued forward, crashing into the lowered gate and ripping it off the booth. The teller shouted through the window at them as they sped past. He picked up a phone, probably calling the police or something.

Not even a minute later, Paro’s phone rang, and he snatched it from his pocket. “Yeah … yeah, don’t worry. Yeah, that was us. Send the police away and tell them to stay clear. That’s right, yeah.” His eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me that. She’s a general again? My life is going to be even more miserable now.”

Jack didn’t know what he was talking about, but he suspected that Paro had called off the police. It was amazing what they could get away with.

“I think we’re close!” Sarah called out. She stood up and pointed to something in the distance.

Jack turned to look out of the front window. He’d never been to Staten Island before, but he was surprised by just how open it was. Unlike Manhattan, Staten Island looked like a slightly more enclosed area than his own town. There were small to large houses, stores and small shopping centers, followed again by more homes. It was hard to see in the dark of night, but speeding past a red-light in the distance, he could just make out the silver car.

The driver shouted at Paro, but Paro shouted back even louder. “I don’t care, slam your foot down!”

Jack moaned as the engine screamed at them, picking up so much speed that Jack had to struggle not to cover his eyes like a child. The van rocketed into a narrow street. A pedestrian removing a grocery bag out of his Honda jumped out of the way. With a loud crunch his passenger-side door was ripped off the vehicle, smashing into—and denting—a parked car just ahead of him.

“We’re all going to die!” Jack shouted, undoing his buckle and standing up. He didn’t know where he was going, but his first instinct was to flee. He realized just a moment too late, how stupid of an idea it was to take off his seatbelt.

The van, with no apparent warning, took a sharp left, and Jack was sent flying to the front. Paro shouted curses as Jack slammed into him, sending both he and his team-leader banging into the radio system. Music blasted at a volume so loud that even if the collision with the car door didn’t wake up the residents on the street, then the booming voice of Lady Gaga surely would.

“I’m on the edge, of glory.”

Jack tried to get off Paro and failed, unable to regain his balance. Before he could try again, Melissa grabbed him by the neck and pulled him back to his seat. Her fingers were squeezing way harder than they needed to be. “Ouch, stop, it was an accident!”

“Don’t get out of your seat again, Jack. Are you nuts? Don’t force me to sit on your lap and buckle myself in with you. Act like an adult.”

The word “myself” hadn’t even fully left her lips, and already Michael was giving Jack a massive thumbs-up.

“Get out of your seat!” his expression shouted. Jack thought the better of it and strapped himself back in as Melissa returned to her own seat.

They were gaining on the car, faster than Jack had believed they’d be able to given the large size of the van and the speediness of the silver car, which was only a block ahead of them now. The car sped past a stop sign and almost impacted with an oncoming minivan. Even from where Jack was sitting, he could see the outlines of the three murderous Psychs.

“Can you stop it, Michael?” Paro asked.

“No, their Path is protecting the vehicle. I can’t do anything to it.”

Paro nodded and didn’t hesitate, revising his plans in an instant.

“Michael, we’re going loud! Break it.” Paro ordered.

Jack wondered what the words meant, but he didn’t wonder for long. Michael squeezed his fist and the front window of the van shattered outward, spraying sharp chunks of glass to both sides of the street, far enough away that the van didn’t risk running over them and getting a flat.

Four of the recon officers rushed to the front of the vehicle, weapons in hand. Paro stepped out of the way, and Jack watched in bewilderment as the four guns flashed, the sound of gunfire overshadowing even the tremendous roar of the engine.

“Back-left tire hit,” the leftmost officer called. She was the youngest-looking of all the recon officers, perhaps only a year or two older than Jack.

“Back-right hit,” she called yet again.

The silver Lexus swerved on the road, losing control and skidding. The vehicle came to a stop, and Jack, without even realizing he was doing so, howled in victory. “Hell yeah! You go, girl!”

The recon officer turned to him and smiled—it was the first time one of them had looked at him with anything other than disgust. “My name is Rebecca, Mr. Harris. And yeah, I am kind of awesome.” She winked.

“You’re more than awesome,” he cheered. For some reason, Melissa snarled. Rebecca returned to her seat, but not before stopping to ruffle Jack’s hair. Even with the heavy dark-blue T.A.C gear, she was gorgeous. She had bright red hair, smooth green eyes, and freckle just above her nose that only made her look cuter.

Melissa didn’t seem to like the exchange for some reason and leaned over to kick Jack in the shin. He cried out in pain and shot Melissa a look of hurt.

What is her problem? Jack thought bitterly.

The van sped towards the now immobile car. They were on a busy intersection across the street from a train terminal, not unlike the one Jack had brought Andy to back at home. The three Psychs jumped out of the car and made a run for the station. The driver slammed on the brakes, and Jack prepared himself. This time, they weren’t getting away.