“You don’t want to get the car all bloody,” Enzo said. “The guy’s strength is probably about gone, and the car will start sinking by itself.” Telekinetics’ power lasted longer than physical strength, but eventually, even they tired. Lifting a vehicle had to be draining. “Aren’t we already going down a bit?”
In response, the mutant jolted the car upward again. Now they floated higher than the sixteen-story building by several stories.
Merkley growled. “I’ll teach that punk a lesson.”
“Not with your knife,” Enzo whispered. “He’ll turn it against you.” Telekinetics couldn’t control an object unless they saw or touched it, but once a blade touched him, he could hijack it.
“My fists then.” Telekinetics couldn’t control another person’s body. They couldn’t override a brain.
His partner pushed the button that lowered the plexiglass wall between the front seats and the back cage. “Take the wheel.”
At this point, taking the wheel was useless, and Enzo wasn’t optimistic enough to think he’d need it any time soon. Technically, he should move because his senior officer had given him a command, but Enzo needed to think, not play musical chairs.
Merkley heaved himself over the front into the cage.
Enzo didn’t stop his partner, didn’t think clearly about what he was doing. His mind spun, trying to come up with a solution that would get them to safety.
The moment Merkley’s feet touched the cage floor, the car violently flipped over, then continued to flip, knocking Merkley into the left side, the ceiling, and the floor. Sky and buildings spun by in flashes. Enzo’s seatbelt cut into his shoulder, keeping him in place as he jerked with the movements of the car.
Merkley screamed and held out his hands to try and absorb the blows. It didn’t matter. He was thrown around like a doll. Every thud and crack announced a new injury.
Enzo couldn’t stop any of it from happening. The shock collar controls had flown off his lap during the vehicle’s first flip and were smashing into walls and ceilings alongside Merkley.
The car continued to thrash like a bucking bronco, up and down, side to side, fast and whiplash hard. Merkley’s helmet was knocked loose and flung around the interior. It smacked into Enzo, into Merkley, and into the criminal. The man didn’t stop. Merkley’s moans grew fainter, then ended.
Enzo wanted to curse the telekinetic in every language he knew, but he kept silent. The guy might think he’d incapacitated both officers. If Enzo had taken off his seatbelt to move behind the wheel like Merkley had ordered, he would’ve ping-ponged against the walls too.
Finally, the car’s motion slowed. The criminal tilted the car, hood pointing straight downward. Merkley tumbled into the front and came to rest on the windshield. His face was red and swollen, cut in places. Blood spotted the car’s interior. Was he breathing? Enzo couldn’t tell if he was unconscious or dead.
During the car’s wild thrashing, it had moved further away from the street and now hovered near the top of the sixteen-story building. If they drifted five more feet to the left, they’d be over the roof, and he could jump out.
The car straightened a little. “Hey copper,” the telekinetic said, “you still willing to make a deal?” He was checking to see if Enzo was conscious.
Enzo didn’t answer. The man cocked his head, listening.
Time for a decision. Did Enzo stay here pretending to be unconscious or take a chance, leap through the door, and hope he could make the five feet to the top of the building? What was the telekinetic planning to do with the car and two unconscious police officers? The man couldn’t see to drive, and even if he could, the department tracked police vehicles.
Enzo glanced at the streets below them. A police tank was rolling down the road with its cannon pointed firmly at the sky. What the … was the tank going to shoot his car down?
No, the tank wouldn’t. Not with two officers inside. But another part of him knew differently. The government had shown more than once that they were willing to sacrifice civilians to take out an Empowered. Police officers could just as easily be considered collateral damage.
Enzo eyed the distance between his door and the top of the building. Might be more than five feet. Might be six, which would mean he’d fall.
“Copper? Got anything to say to me?” The man was fishing.
Enzo silently pulled his dura-rope gun from his belt. If the building was farther than he anticipated, he’d shoot the rope at it. The hook on the end would automatically anchor itself on the wall, and he could at least hang there until help arrived. That was the safe thing, the only thing to do with a police tank on the prowl.
He didn’t want to leave his partner but wasn’t even sure if Merkley was alive. Police procedure had been drilled into him—nounnecessary heroics. Don’t risk your life to save those who’ll die anyway.
Once Enzo unbuckled, he’d have to jump out fast in case the telekinetic decided to spin the car around again. He hesitated. How could he leave his partner here? But what other choice did he have?
Using the end of the gun barrel, he pushed the emergency button that opened all doors, with his other hand, he unlatched his seatbelt.
Instead of aiming his gun at the building, as he leaped from his door into the air, he shot the rope at his partner’s back. It was most likely a stupidly sentimental gesture that would cost him his life, and this mission would be recounted to students in the police academy as an example of what not to do.
The air passed beneath Enzo’s feet. Down on the ground below, he could barely make out the spectators moving out of the tank’s way.
He landed on the roof with a jarring thunk. He’d made it. He was safe. He took a couple of running steps to absorb his momentum.