ammunition boxes they carried and cleaning their rifles.
"Excuse me," Kenji said hesitantly.
"Please take your seat, sir," the lead soldier said. Kenji noticed he had a dark nametag sewn over the right breast of his combat vest. It read ATLAS.
"Uh, Mr. Atlas," Kenji started.
"Sir, you need to rest. We're almost to the staging area."
"I was just wondering... You're a parahuman, right?" It was a technical term Kenji had hated hearing when he'd learned he was one himself.
"Nah, what gave it away?" another soldier, his nametag reading simply JOHNSON, chimed in.
Atlas glared at the soldier, and he looked down sheepishly. "We are not at liberty to discuss that subject, sir."
"Uh, do you have anything I can read?" Kenji asked.
"Sir?" Atla s asked, perplexed.
"I need something to read—it's very important."
Another soldier, STEVENS, opened a velcro pouch on his vest and pulled out a small book. "Here."
Kenji started to reach for the book, then saw it was a small Gideon Bible. "No—I've read t hat before."
"You can never read it too many times," Atlas responded.
"No, I need something I've never read before," Kenji said, chewing his lip nervously.
"Here," Johnson said, pulling a magazine from a pouch on his vest. It was crumpled up, but basica lly intact.
Kenji reluctantly took the magazine. Unrolling it, he was relieved to see it was a car magazine. He opened the pages, and his brief smile turned into a frown. The pages were all blank.
"What's wrong, you don't like cars?" Johnson asked, taking the magazine back when Kenji handed it to him.
"No. I'm just disappointed I haven't woke up yet."
CHAPTER FOUR
The flight to the staging area was indeed a short one. The crew informed them they were now in the Texas panhandle. The staging area was itself a former civilian airport for small aircraft. Since the outbreak, the military had surrounded it with chain link fencing, guard towers and tanks. Military aircraft and small commuter planes were flying in and out of the area constantly, as well as helicopters.
Once they landed, Kenji could see the area had been turned into a makeshift refugee camp. Military tents were erected in neat, orderly rows, and hundreds, maybe thousands of people milled about—a mix of military forces and civilians.
Once Kenji and the other survivors exited the C-130, they were marched to a row of medical tents, where again they were checked for signs of infection. Their blood was also taken, run through a small handheld unit that pricked their fingers.
"I'm not diabetic," Ken ji said to the doctor checking his blood, when the small device flashed a green light.
"Okay," the doctor said. He pulled a red bracelet from his pocket and motioned for Kenji to raise his arm.
"What's wrong? Is he infected?" Carol asked beside Kenji.
"N o," the doctor said. "He's special."
"He sure is," Carol said, looping an arm through Ken's. "He's a hero. He saved all of us."
"Oh?" the doctor asked, pausing. "How so?"
"He's a psychic," Carol said, smiling proudly.
The doctor seemed disappointed. "Oh. That's nice."
Then he moved on to the next survivor in line.
"Sir, you need to come with me," a soldier said, motioning to Kenji.
"We're together," Carol said, indicating herself, Kenji and the others.
"You can come with him, ma'am," the soldier said. "The others will have to stay."
"Where are we going?" Kenji asked, a little worried. He didn't like the red bracelet on his arm. It didn't mean he was special—it meant he was different. And he'd never liked being different.
"You need to wait with the others like you, sir."
Carol started to say something, but Kenji patted her hand. "It's okay. I'll be fine." He tried to pull free of the blonde, but she wouldn't let go.
Carol looked to Shane and Ben in line after her. "I'm going to make sure Kenji's okay, guys."
"Okay," Shane said indifferently.
"Take care of yourself, kid," Ben said. It was the nicest thing Kenji had heard him say since they met a
"Excuse me," Kenji said hesitantly.
"Please take your seat, sir," the lead soldier said. Kenji noticed he had a dark nametag sewn over the right breast of his combat vest. It read ATLAS.
"Uh, Mr. Atlas," Kenji started.
"Sir, you need to rest. We're almost to the staging area."
"I was just wondering... You're a parahuman, right?" It was a technical term Kenji had hated hearing when he'd learned he was one himself.
"Nah, what gave it away?" another soldier, his nametag reading simply JOHNSON, chimed in.
Atlas glared at the soldier, and he looked down sheepishly. "We are not at liberty to discuss that subject, sir."
"Uh, do you have anything I can read?" Kenji asked.
"Sir?" Atla s asked, perplexed.
"I need something to read—it's very important."
Another soldier, STEVENS, opened a velcro pouch on his vest and pulled out a small book. "Here."
Kenji started to reach for the book, then saw it was a small Gideon Bible. "No—I've read t hat before."
"You can never read it too many times," Atlas responded.
"No, I need something I've never read before," Kenji said, chewing his lip nervously.
"Here," Johnson said, pulling a magazine from a pouch on his vest. It was crumpled up, but basica lly intact.
Kenji reluctantly took the magazine. Unrolling it, he was relieved to see it was a car magazine. He opened the pages, and his brief smile turned into a frown. The pages were all blank.
"What's wrong, you don't like cars?" Johnson asked, taking the magazine back when Kenji handed it to him.
"No. I'm just disappointed I haven't woke up yet."
CHAPTER FOUR
The flight to the staging area was indeed a short one. The crew informed them they were now in the Texas panhandle. The staging area was itself a former civilian airport for small aircraft. Since the outbreak, the military had surrounded it with chain link fencing, guard towers and tanks. Military aircraft and small commuter planes were flying in and out of the area constantly, as well as helicopters.
Once they landed, Kenji could see the area had been turned into a makeshift refugee camp. Military tents were erected in neat, orderly rows, and hundreds, maybe thousands of people milled about—a mix of military forces and civilians.
Once Kenji and the other survivors exited the C-130, they were marched to a row of medical tents, where again they were checked for signs of infection. Their blood was also taken, run through a small handheld unit that pricked their fingers.
"I'm not diabetic," Ken ji said to the doctor checking his blood, when the small device flashed a green light.
"Okay," the doctor said. He pulled a red bracelet from his pocket and motioned for Kenji to raise his arm.
"What's wrong? Is he infected?" Carol asked beside Kenji.
"N o," the doctor said. "He's special."
"He sure is," Carol said, looping an arm through Ken's. "He's a hero. He saved all of us."
"Oh?" the doctor asked, pausing. "How so?"
"He's a psychic," Carol said, smiling proudly.
The doctor seemed disappointed. "Oh. That's nice."
Then he moved on to the next survivor in line.
"Sir, you need to come with me," a soldier said, motioning to Kenji.
"We're together," Carol said, indicating herself, Kenji and the others.
"You can come with him, ma'am," the soldier said. "The others will have to stay."
"Where are we going?" Kenji asked, a little worried. He didn't like the red bracelet on his arm. It didn't mean he was special—it meant he was different. And he'd never liked being different.
"You need to wait with the others like you, sir."
Carol started to say something, but Kenji patted her hand. "It's okay. I'll be fine." He tried to pull free of the blonde, but she wouldn't let go.
Carol looked to Shane and Ben in line after her. "I'm going to make sure Kenji's okay, guys."
"Okay," Shane said indifferently.
"Take care of yourself, kid," Ben said. It was the nicest thing Kenji had heard him say since they met a
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