The Quantum Prophecy. Michael Carroll
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away at the keyboard. The other men took out sophisticated scanning devices and started to check the integrity of the doors and walls. Two men made several trips back up to the helicopter, bringing in heavier equipment.
“So,” Mills said to the woman. “How’s life in the outside world? It’s Mystery Day, right?”
“You know I’m not allowed to discuss such things with you.”
“I kind of miss the celebrations.”
The woman didn’t respond to that. Instead, she examined her clipboard. “Now… I’ve been ordered to check on the prisoners.”
Another test, the warden said to himself. “Not possible. No one but me and Doc McLean get to see the prisoners. You know that.”
“We’ll need your access codes to override the locks,” the woman said.
“Yes, you would. If you were getting to see the prisoners. Which you’re not.”
“I’m not asking you, Warden Mills. I’m telling you. Give us the codes.”
“You know I can’t do that without a signed order from Central Command,” Mills said with a smile, to give the impression that he was playing along. Inwardly, he was beginning to get worried. They occasionally sprung surprises on him, but this one felt wrong.
The woman turned to one of the soldiers. “Davison?”
The soldier stepped up to Warden Mills, saluted, and said, “Sir! Direct order from Central Command, Sir! You are to provide us with the override codes necessary for us to access the cells, Sir!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, soldier.”
The warden found himself facing the dangerous end of a gun. He sighed. “Son, put the gun away. You’re embarrassing yourself.” He turned to the woman. “Now, I know that you’ve been ordered to put me to the test, but let’s not, and say we did, OK?”
The soldier fired.
Mills glanced down to see a tranquilliser dart protruding from his chest. He collapsed to the floor.
Davison leaned down and smiled at him. “We know you’ve got a biometric implant that will trigger an alarm if your vital signs fluctuate, Warden Mills. Can’t have that happening.” He reached out and pulled down on the warden’s eyelids, closing them. “Don’t worry, you’re not dying. I’m just closing your eyes to prevent them from drying up. You’ve been dosed with a muscle relaxant. You’ll be paralysed for about seven hours.”
“We have to move fast,” the woman said. “Get those doors open!”
One of the technicians said, “We won’t have time to open them all.”
The woman said, “We don’t need to open them all. Just…” she checked one of the computer screens. “Just Cell 18. The man we’re looking for is called Joseph.”
LATER, AS HE was attempting to do his homework, Colin couldn’t get the thought out of his mind: Suppose it’s true? Suppose Danny is a superhuman? Maybe he’s been one all along, but kept it secret. Or maybe Danny didn’t even know. This could be the first time he’s ever done anything like that.
If super-powers are inherited, wouldn’t that mean that one of Danny’s parents is a superhuman too?
Colin dismissed this idea almost immediately; Danny’s parents were just too ordinary. Danny’s father was a manager in the local supermarket and his mother was a driving instructor. Danny also had a seven-year-old brother, Niall. If Danny inherited superhuman powers from one of his parents, then that would mean that Niall might also become a superhuman.
Colin forced himself to focus on his homework. A single four-page essay. That shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, then he would be completely free of homework worry for the rest of the weekend.
He was lying on his bed, on his stomach, with his homework book open on the floor at the foot of the bed. He had half a page done and he wasn’t happy with it. He’d been trying Brian’s idea of writing from the point of view of one of the villains, but it was proving to be tougher than he’d expected.
OK. Concentrate! Suppose I had superhuman powers… Say I could fly. That’d be cool!
While he was day dreaming about joining the school’s athletics team – if he could fly, he’d be a champion long-jumper – a thought came into his mind: I wonder if Danny will be able to fly?
Maybe Danny won’t want his powers and he’ll find a way to give them to me.
Colin sighed and looked down at his homework again.
“I’m not getting anywhere with this,” he muttered to himself. OK. Start over.
He turned to a blank page and began to write: “If I was a superhero, I wouldn’t even tell my best friends because that would put them in danger. I would have to come up with some good excuses for always disappearing to go off and save people.”
Danny’s never done that, so maybe he’s not a superhuman after all. But then, how did he do it? How did he move fast enough to rescue Susie?
Colin looked at the few lines he’d written, put his homework book away and wandered downstairs to the sitting room.
“How’s the essay coming along?” Colin’s Dad asked.
Colin sat down on the floor with his back to the television set. The sound was off and clearly his parents hadn’t been watching it. “Not great. I don’t really know all that much about superhumans. What was it like when they were around? It must have been strange.”
His father said, “I was about your age when the first superhumans began to appear. You know the way they always keep weird stories until the end of the news? Well, that was what it was like, for a while. It was all, ‘And finally, it seems that in New York there’s a new force fighting evil.’ That kind of thing.”
“But weren’t people scared?”
“No, because for a long time most people didn’t really believe it. Not until Paragon went up against Façade.”
“Why? Why was that any different?”
“Because everyone saw it happening live on television. It was in Detroit, one of those charity telethon events, like Comic Relief. They were trying to raise twenty million dollars for… can’t remember what it was now.”
“Education,” Colin’s mother said.
“Right, education. Anyway, it’s all just about over, and they’re going on about how much money they’ve raised, then all of a sudden one of the guest musicians comes out and he just transforms himself into Façade. He’s got a whole bunch of thugs with him and Façade demands fifty million dollars or the studio audience and all these celebrities will be killed. Façade is strutting about, showing off his powers by shape-shifting into different people, when Paragon just drops out of the ceiling and lands on top of him. Bam! One punch to the head and Façade is out cold! A couple of his henchmen turn their guns on Paragon, but he just flies right into them, knocking them over. Then he launched a dozen gas grenades. The gas instantly sent everyone in the studio – even the hostages – to sleep. The cameras were still running, though, so we could watch him tying up Façade and his men.”
“It would have been a great court case, too,” Caroline said, “if Façade hadn’t escaped from custody on the way to the trial.”
“What about Paragon, though? If he arrived so quickly, doesn’t that suggest that he lived nearby? I mean, from what I’ve read about him he wasn’t able