Superhero Universe: Tesseracts Nineteen Read Online Free Page B

“Where’s Donna Crow?” She said.
    * * *
    Two days later, Rickard confronted Jess in her room. Somewhere, she reflected, the man must have a huge closet on base. He wore another sharp-looking Bay Street special— suspenders and all. Great looking shoes with little tassels.
    “This isn’t working,” Rickard said, pacing hands-in-pockets in the cramped space.
    “I told you it would take time,” Jess said, sitting on her cot, looking at the linoleum floor.
    “It occurs to me that we could probably make him talk by torturing you in front of him.”
    Jessica looked up sharply, giving fear and disgust a tangible, flesh-and-blood expression. Her stomach plunged at the thought of some as yet nameless atrocity, and she made sure Rickard could see her distress — made him feel it — in her eyes, in the set of her lips, in the rising color of her cheeks.
    “Jesus— I’m kidding,” he stammered. “God’s sake, Jess— when’re you going to realize that we’re the good guys here?”
    “I don’t have to read your mind to know that you believe that.”
    “Can you read opinion polls? Every time he blows shit up, investors sue the government— putting taxpayers on the hook. Bond yields jump; the currency tanks. Approval ratings for the True North are at all-time lows. We’re talking, it’s you guys and Ebola Prime: neck and neck.”
    “Say the readers of the Financial Post .”
    Rickard pulled up a chair, sitting close enough that his knees almost touched hers. “No, Jessica, that’s the thing. People don’t want to be saved by Captain Crusty anymore. They don’t want to be lectured on right and wrong by some circus freak. Maybe you should tell him that. Maybe you should tell him how much you’re getting paid.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “Yeah. When it came down to a choice between being homeless and being safe, you took the latter. We all do. Except for him.”
    “He’s getting tired,” Jess said quietly. “I’ll get what you want.”
    * * *
    Jessica squeezed the bridge of her nose between her eyes. Eight straight hours today— maybe nine. Push him hard , Rickard had said. You get to rest, he doesn’t.
    “You okay?” Josh said.
    She chuckled without mirth. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
    “Is that it then? You done?”
    Jess put her hands on her hips, set a nonplussed expression on her face. “I don’t know who’s a bigger jerk,” she said. “You, or him.”
    “Pretty sure it’s him.”
    Jess smiled at the odd break in tension. “This is serious, you know,” she said.
    “Yeah,” Josh nodded.
    Jess stepped closer, eyes staring into Josh’s. Summoning her power. She felt his mind rising like a sheer cliff above the crashing waves of a midnight ocean. He kept up the internal babble in first-person, his concentration just as strong now as when they’d started. “Where’s Jimmy Santana?” she whispered.
    “You tell me,” Josh whispered back.
    “Where’s Cobain?”
    “Keep sayin’ the names, darlin’.”
    “I am. I have been. I don’t know if I…”
    “Listen,” Josh hissed.
    Jess frowned. Then she heard it.
    A dull thump from somewhere above.
    Dust spilling down from the ceiling of the interrogation room.
    A low-frequency thrumming through the floor.
    The pop-pop-pop of semi-automatic weapons. Inside the complex.
    Running footsteps outside the room: military boots hard on concrete.
    Jess whirled as the door to the interrogation room crashed open. She stood in front of Josh on instinct, as though shielding him would make any difference.
    Two men in black combats rushed into the room. Jess reached out with her mind, but the men had the same jamming implants that Rickard was using. She couldn’t push through the static.
    Shooter One raised his C7, while Shooter Two took up a flank position.
    And the room heaved as though it were at sea.
    Jess hit the floor as electronics crashed down from the ceiling. A huge crack opened in the far wall; glass shards cascaded to the floor, revealing the