Charity’s parents exchanged a glance. Neither said anything for a moment, then her father said, “I think it’s safe to tell her.”
Zia’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, there’s some other secret I’ve just become trustworthy to know?”
Charity’s mother sighed. “It’s not that we don’t trust you. It’s that we believe the less everyone knows, the safer we’ll all be.”
Charity’s father glanced around. The lettuce fields didn’t hide much so they could’ve seen anyone approaching for half a mile. He checked out of habit before talking about his powers. “I wasn’t always a psychic.”
Zia cocked her head. People had different theories as to why some people developed powers. Most believed the genetic tinkering scientists had done to increase people’s IQs caused the problem. Some said manufacturers had tampered with the world’s food genetic makeup so much they changed human genes as well. Others thought a government project had gone wrong.
Charity’s father lowered his voice and rested his elbows on his legs. “I was thirteen when Empowereds first began popping up in society. Initially, we thought they were amazing. Everyone wanted special abilities back then, at least until we saw how Empowereds used them. Before they showed up, the nation seemed as impervious as a battleship. But given enough attacks, even a battleship will take on water and sink.
“The Empowereds stole so many things. Fortes could rip doors from safes, and the police were ill-equipped to fighttelekinetics. They just turned the officers’ weapons against them.
“The worst, though, were the psychics who traded government secrets to terrorists. I still can’t believe people would sell out entire countries that way.
“I’m not surprised the government decided they had to eliminate Empowereds. I don’t blame people for hating us. Enough people remember what life was like before—so peaceful and safe. So abundant. Then I saw my city reduced to rubble. My father died during the bombings. We lived in refugee tents in Charlottesville and did odd jobs to survive.”
He paused. “I’m rambling. That’s another reason I shouldn’t speak of these things.” He cleared his throat and began again. “I was seventeen when I saw a man being chased through the city by four other men. He came running down the street, and I figured he was another poor slob about to become a gang victim. I stepped into the alley and told him to follow me. With only a moment of hesitation, he went with me. The other men had seen where we’d gone, but I knew my way around the abandoned buildings.
“I took him out the back into a pile of rubble where I’d discovered an opening to what had once been an underground parking lot. We hid there, not daring to speak. But after the footsteps faded, I turned on my flashlight and saw he was injured. Blood dribbled out of his ear. I told him I would take him to a hospital.
“He looked at me suspiciously and said, ‘What’s your price for that sort of help?’
“I knew what he meant. Most of the refugees in the city only helped someone if they could get something in return.
“‘I won’t charge you,’ I said. ‘But after that, if you’d like your house cleaned or your garbage buried, we’ll talk payment.’
“The man refused. ‘I can’t see a doctor. I’m a fugitive. Just leave me here.’”
“It hadn’t even occurred to me that he might be a criminal. I had no idea what to do. I figured since the man was injured, I could get away from him if I needed to, but I wasn’t sure whether I should go for a medic anyway. It seemed wrong to walk away from an injured man.
“While I decided what to do, he said, ‘Are you waiting for me to die so you can go through my pockets?’
“‘No,’ I said, ‘You don’t look like you’d have anything I want, and I’m not stupid enough to put on the clothes of a wanted man. No telling how bad the police’s eyesight is.’
“The man didn’t speak for several moments and then said, ‘My problem was greed. But most people are greedy.’ He took hold of my wrist. ‘Do you think you could have done better?’”
“His grip wasn’t too tight, so I wasn’t afraid. I figured I’d humor him. ‘If I were greedy, I would’ve left to see if there’s a reward for turning you in. But I’m still here. Maybe I’m hoping there’s something good in your pockets after all.’
“He half-smiled. ‘We’ll see. I’ll give you all I have.’ Then his eyes flashed white, and I felt something like a mild electric current go from his body into mine.
“I asked what he’d done. I’d heard psychics’ eyes glowed white whenever they had a vision, but I’d never heard anything about electric currents.
“The man took a gasping breath. ‘Tell me the honest truth no matter how bad it makes you look. What do you want most in life?’
“It was such an odd question that I thought the man’s mind was going. I already knew what was most important to me. I worked for it every day. ‘Keeping my family safe so that one day we can live in a good place again.’
“The man relaxed, slumping back on the ground. ‘You’ll be alright then,’ he said. ‘That’s what the visions will show you. My mistake was caring about wealth.’
“I didn’t know what he meant. I thought his words were the mumblings of a dying man. A couple of days later, I had my first vision. I’d lied about not going through his pockets. After he died, I found two gold rings.
“I sold one and was taking some supplies home to my family. The vision showed me a gang lying in wait near the end of the street. I turned around and walked a mile out of my way to avoid them.’”
Charity’s father shook his head. “I’ve never had a vision tell me where wealth was. They’ve all been about keeping my family safe. And that’s why I can trust the visions.”
Zia’s mouth had dropped open during his story. “The man gave you his psychic power? That’s possible?”
Her father nodded. “Seems so.”