Absolute Power. Michael Carroll

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СКАЧАТЬ graffiti-covered buildings was well-known as a haven for local drug addicts and gang members. This wasn’t the worst part of town – there were places where even the police didn’t dare go alone – but it was bad enough that the girls knew better than to pass through on their own. There was some safety in numbers.

      Erica was tall, slim and dark-skinned, while Karen was shorter and pale-skinned with long red hair. The day they met, Karen had told Erica, “The gangs’ll mostly leave you alone, ‘less you draw attention to yourself. Never make eye contact. Never carry more than a coupla bucks. You don’t want them to think you’re worth mugging.”

      Erica and Karen crossed the barely-used, pot-hole-riddled street and quietly and quickly walked past the gaps in the rusted chain-link fence.

      Only a few more minutes…Erica thought. Her backpack was slung over her left shoulder, and she kept a loose grip on it.

      She sensed Karen stiffen as something moved inside the complex – the faint scrape of metal on stone – and they increased their speed.

      Someone should do something about that place! About this whole damn town. I wish we’d never come here. I wish—

      From behind, a rough, sneering voice called, “Hey, honeys! Hey, I jus’ wanna aks you somethin’!”

      “Oh God,” Karen muttered.

      “Just keep walking,” Erica whispered. She glanced around to see a teenage boy striding quickly towards them. He had a red bandanna tied around his head, and something sharp and metallic half-hidden in his hand. “Sorry,” she said, “Can’t stop. Late for school.”

      I know I can out-run him, but Karen can’t.

      Red-bandanna had almost reached them. “Didn’t you hear me?”

      Erica took a deep breath and clenched her fists.

      Then there was another noise behind them, a brief scuffle of footsteps, a muttered swearword from Red-bandanna. Erica glanced back to see a tall, well-built teenage boy racing across the street, slamming the mugger against the chain-link fence. She stopped and stared.

      The boy was wearing a ski-mask and gloves, and a blue t-shirt with a white lightning-bolt painted on it.

      Oh no…

      The would-be superhero ploughed his fist into red-bandanna’s stomach, doubling him over.

      God, I hope he knows what he’s doing! Erica swallowed hard. She knew what was coming next: two other gang members raced out of the shadows. The one with the crew-cut was carrying a short, rusted-metal bar. The other was empty-handed, but it was clear to Erica from his muscular, tattooed arms that he didn’t need a weapon.

      The masked boy elbowed Crew-cut in the face, then yelled to Karen and Erica, “Get out of here! I can take care of myself!”

      No you can’t, Erica thought. You’re big and strong, but you don’t know how to fight.

      She felt Karen tugging at her hand, dragging her away.

      “Erica, come on!” Karen said.

      But Erica van Piet wasn’t even listening. She was watching the gang members: Red-bandanna was holding the young man down while Tattoo was punching him in the face and stomach. Crew-cut was swearing loudly, nursing his bloodied nose.

      Erica winced as Tattoo landed a savage kick square in the boy’s chest.

      I promised I’d keep a low profile…But I can’t just…They’ll kill him!

      The boy was on the ground now, on his side, curled into a ball to shield himself from the kicking. Crew-cut approached, slapping the short metal bar against his open hand, waiting for his turn.

      “For God’s sake, Erica! If they see you watching, they’ll come after us next!” Karen said, almost screaming.

      Little louder than a whisper, Erica said, “There’s only three of them.”

      “What? What are you saying?”

      The dark-skinned girl slipped her backpack off her shoulder and passed it to Karen. “Hold this.” She began to walk back, towards the fight.

      “Erica! Are you crazy?”

      Crouched over the masked boy, Crew-cut raised the metal bar above his head, aiming for the boy’s head.

      Erica leaped forward, somersaulted in the air, landed on her hands and slammed her feet into Crew-cut’s back.

      The metal bar dropped from his hands: Erica grabbed it as it fell, swung it upwards, hitting Red-bandanna in the back of his knees.

      She whipped the bar in the opposite direction, jabbing the end straight into Tattoo’s bare upper arm, then spun about, a round-house kick that caught Tattoo in the chin.

      Erica straightened up.

      Red-bandanna was on the ground, clutching his legs. Crew-cut was sprawled face-down across the masked boy, moaning and gasping for breath. Tattoo was flat on his back, unconscious.

      Her attack had lasted no more than two seconds.

      The masked boy rolled the still-moaning Crew-cut to one side and awkwardly got to his feet.

      Deep brown eyes peered from the ski-mask with a mixture of shock and gratitude. “I…How did you…? What just happened here?”

      Erica glanced down at the boy’s shoes, then handed him the metal bar. “Next time, leave the superhero stuff to someone who knows what they’re doing.”

      She turned around and walked back to Karen, who had turned even more pale and was starting to shake.

      “Erica…Where did you learn to do that?”

      “My dad taught me.” She took her backpack from Karen’s trembling hands. “Come on. If we’re late, we’ll get into trouble.”

      Still staring at the beaten gang members, Karen said, “OK. Trouble. We don’t want to get into trouble…” She began to walk backwards. “Your dad taught you…What was he? A cop or something?”

      “Something like that, yes.” Erica put her hand on Karen’s face and forced her to look away. “Karen, listen to me, OK? This didn’t happen. Got that?”

      Karen nodded. “Didn’t happen. All right. So what did happen?”

      “Nothing.” They had reached the end of the block and Erica looked back to see that the masked boy had disappeared. “Nothing happened.”

      They walked the rest of the way to school in silence. Erica was glad of that.

      But what about the masked boy? If he starts to wonder about me…

      She remembered the final meeting with the agent from the Witness Relocation Program: “You must always keep a low profile. Your family dynamic is unusual enough that СКАЧАТЬ