First Encounter

This short story includes minor spoilers for The Apex Cycle Book 1: BETA. 

“The voice sounded strange, as if its owner was speaking through a voice modulator. I looked up and found myself staring straight into one of the helmets depicted on all the flyers that had been scattered around the city. 

“I was face to face with an Apex.” -BETA, Ch. 3

Like it had freshman year, the Welcome Back student festival on the pier sounded like a good idea, but, like the year before, Wesley immediately regretted his decision to go. After a summer in his mother’s quiet apartment outside of the city, the smells, lights, and sounds of the festival rocked every one of Wesley’s super-senses.

He leaned against a wood railing behind the ferris wheel with his hands pressed against his ears and his eyes screwed shut. His roommate Anthony had gone to find lunch, but thanks to his oncoming migraine, Wesley wasn’t feeling hungry. 

“You good?” Anthony’s voice was garbled and Wesley lowered his hands from his ears and opened his eyes, readjusting his glasses. Anthony joined him at the railing, wafting the smell of his lunch over Wesley. 

“You smell like squid.”

“I smell delicious, thank you,” Anthony grinned. “I had calamari from one of the food trucks. You should go try some.”

Wesley wrinkled his nose.

“Nah, I’m getting a pretty good serving of it right now actually.”

“Hey, I met the new girl!”

“The one who puked on Jamie’s shoes?” Wesley looked around. “How long you think she’ll last?”

Anthony laughed and Wesley caught a fresh wave of fried-squid smell. He turned to lean his back against the railing and pointed across the pier at a miserable looking girl in a zip-up hoodie following Winnie from booth to booth.

“She looks ready to leave the island, honestly. She’s Winnie’s roommate, you know, and Winnie already seemed to be on her nerves.”

Wesley looked through the throng of students, tuning out the snippets of conversation that bloomed from all angles. Someone nearby won a carnival game, causing a series of bells and whistles to go off. Wesley winced at the sound. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Anthony peered at him and Wesley forced a smile. “We can go back to campus, if you like.”

“No, I’m fine!” Wesley lied. “Let’s go play some games.”

“So you can win them all?” Anthony snorted, but led the way to the row of booths boasting carnival games. “You just want to hang around in case something happens.”

Wesley’s face turned warm and he tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack.

“No, I’m here for fun, not work.”

“Oh, we’re pretending your uniform isn’t in that bag?”

Anthony may not have been an Apex, but he was still perceptive in ways that caught Wesley off guard. He scowled.

“There’s been scuffles all over the city the last few weeks. Who’s to say there won’t be one here next?”

“And who’s to say you shouldn’t try to enjoy yourself and let the adults in charge worry about that sort of thing? Just relax.” Anthony rolled his eyes, stepping up to a ring toss.

“I relaxed all summer.”

“I met your mom and she’s not relaxing.”

Wesley tightened his backpack straps again, watching Anthony bounce his metal ring off the lip of a cone. 

“You know what I think?” Anthony continued. His second ring missed, too. “You’re bored. You want something fun to happen.”

“Scuffles aren’t fun, Anthony.” Wesley bit his lip. “I just get nervous thinking about not being prepared.”

The third ring missed, too, and Anthony clicked his tongue in irritation. He held up his fourth and final ring to Wesley.

“You do it. I swear it’s rigged.” 

Wesley took it begrudgingly and stepped up to take Anthony’s place.

Not too hard, he told himself. Just a flick of the fingers is enough.
He’d broken enough windows to know how to not throw things. 

It floated to the cone and then, just when he was sure he’d landed it, it bounced off the lip. Howling laughter echoed across the pier and Wesley turned to see Jamie Ratcliffe and her friends guffawing at his expense. Jamie’s boyfriend, Andersen, sneered, and shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. Of course. That was why they hadn’t been able to land any rings. Andersen was messing with them.

Anger boiled inside Wesley but one of Jamie’s friends shook her head. Naomi’s lips pressed together in a silent warning, signaling to Wesley it wasn’t worth it. But how good would it feel to tell Jamie all about her boyfriend’s secret Apex powers?

“Nice shoes, Jamie,” Anthony grinned. “Are they new?”

Jamie flushed and pushed the sleeves of her cardigan up as if getting ready to fight, but Naomi cut in.

“Come on,” she murmured. “They’re not worth our attention.”

Jamie deflated and stomped away. Her friends followed but Naomi looked back at Anthony and Wesley to give them one last apologetic frown.

“Why does she even hang out with those losers?” Anthony groaned.

“Jamie’s her roommate. If anyone can control her, it’s Naomi.” But Wesley didn’t like it, either. In training and PE, Naomi was his best friend. To the rest of the school, she was part of Jamie’s elite posse and Wesley wasn’t worth the time of day. 

Sure, it helped keep their involvement with the team under wraps in a roundabout way since no one expected them to be working together in a secret superhero club, but it still sucked. 

Wesley let Anthony lead the way for the rest of the afternoon but kept an eye out for Jamie, Andersen, and their friends and made sure to give them plenty of space. A dull ache thrummed behind his eyes.

Anthony was playing another carnival game when Wesley tried to close his eyes again, trying to ward off the oncoming migraine. A distant beat caught his ear and he focused on it. It was still too far away to make out clearly, but concentrating on the rhythm helped dull the roaring pain in his head. 

Somewhere, a security guard’s radio crackled.

“…protest headed towards the pier…”

Wesley’s eyes snapped open and Anthony cheered as he won whatever game he was focused on.

“Did you see that?” he guffawed. 

“You need to get out of here,” Wesley said. He stood on tip-toes, trying to see over students and booths towards the entrance gate. That distant rhythm he’d found comfort in just a moment ago was getting louder. Angrier. Words began to take form.

“No more Apex, no more fear!” A voice led the chant over a bullhorn. 

“What’s wrong?” Anthony furrowed his brow at Wesley. “Is Andersen coming back?”

“No.” Wesley whipped around, looking at all the students, wondering if there was a way to get them all out. It was probably fine. It was just a protest. Sure, it was a protest against him and anyone like him, but they wouldn’t actually come near the festival, would they?

Screams and shouts mingled with the sounds of the protests and Anthony’s face went slack. He could hear it, too, now. The students around them turned quiet, all listening. Somewhere in the distance, Wesley heard the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting a face. A fight had broken out. A surge of people stormed the pier, chanting and smashing booths.

“Go!” Wesley shouted, pulling his backpack off his shoulders. “Get back to school! I’m right behind you!”

“What are you going to do?” Anthony demanded, fighting against the tide of frightened students to stay at Wesley’s side. “You’re outnumbered!”

“Someone might need help!”

“Yeah, you! You need to get somewhere safe, too! You aren’t invincible, Wesley!”

Wesley stopped. His roommate had a point, but there was no one on duty and what if someone got hurt when Wesley could’ve helped?

He pulled his glasses off and his vision sharpened, throwing every line of Anthony’s frown into deep detail.

“Take these for me.” He pushed them into Anthony’s hands. “Now, go.”

Wesley forged ahead and was relieved to hear Anthony retreating with the crowd of students. He found a spot behind a booth that smelt like it had been selling kettle corn and tore his backpack open, revealing the glinting gray helmet inside. He brushed his fingers over the number “7”, painted onto his shoulder armor. Summer had been long and he’d missed wearing his Apex uniform. 

He made quick work changing and pushed his shirt and jeans into the backpack and tucked it behind a counter. He’d have to come back for it later but for now, the crowd was growing louder, reminding him that he had more pressing business.

Wesley pulled his helmet on and relaxed as the visor lit up, but a violent bang from the protestors made him tense back up.

“There better be a good reason I just saw your helmet go online.”

Wesley winced at Fleming’s low growl in his earpiece. 

“Is an angry mob a good reason?”

“No, no it is not. Where are you?” 

“The Welcome Back Festival?”

“Why do you have your uniform with you at the festival?”

Crap. This was at least going to earn Wesley extra laps around the field. Worst case scenario, he might even get benched. He skirted behind a row of portable restrooms. Kids screamed and protesters chanted. It was too much. Too loud. His head felt like it might split in two. Maybe it already had and the helmet was all that was holding him together. 

“I brought it just in case.”

“It’s a festival!” Fleming squawked. “What were you thinking would happen?” 

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

Wesley tried to concentrate on the chanting. A bull horn cut through the noise, emitting a sharp, high pitched squeal. Wesley clamped his hands over the outside of his helmet, but it was no use. Police sirens made the pain behind his eyes spread until it was pressing against the confines of his skull.

“Wesley?” Fleming’s voice was sharp. “Talk to me.”

“It’s Seven,” Wesley scowled. 

“Fine. Talk to me, Seven.”

His knees buckled and he fell to the wooden planks behind a row of booths. Too loud. Too much. Too many people. And he could hear them coming towards him.

He slipped into the nearest booth and ducked behind the counter before anyone saw him, but someone shouted from where he’d just been.

“Did you see that? I swear it was one of them!”

Crap. Crap-crap-crap. 

Footsteps pounded against the pier and Wesley saw a gap in the stall, leading into the next one. Great. He’d crawl along through the train of booths until he was at the exit. 

“Tell me you’re getting out of there.” Fleming was still in Wesley’s earpiece.

“Working on it.” He passed into the next stall, and then the next. 

And then, a dead end. He met solid wall. That’s fine. There had to be another way—

The bull horn squealed again, louder this time, accompanied with renewed chants, and the sound was like hot iron in Wesley’s head. He grunted in pain and clawed his way under the booth table where he curled in on himself. Maybe he could stay here until everyone left?

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Fleming demanded. “Do I need to send Justin or—”

“I’m fine! I’m safe.”

“Define safe?”

Wesley scowled at Fleming’s dubious tone.

“I’m under a table. No one can see me here. I’ll wait for things to calm down and—”

Wesley cut off at the sound of a scuffle overhead. 

“Leave me alone!” a girl’s voice shouted. The table skirt fluttered and a body rolled into Wesley.

“Hey, watch it!”

The girl froze with her feet still halfway outside from under the table. The ba-bump of her heartbeat cut through the noise and Wesley listened to it quicken in her chest at the sight of him.

“Seven, what’s going on?” Fleming barked in Wesley’s earpiece. 

“What are you doing?” Wesley ignored Fleming, instead directing his question to the girl. She hunched over in the dark, the tips of her brown-blonde hair nearly brushing the wooden planks of the pier, but Wesley recognized the girl Anthony had pointed out as Winnie’s new roommate.

“Me? What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be out there?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “You know, restoring peace or whatever?”

“Are you compromised?” Fleming growled. “Get out of there! Wesley, if I have to deal with one more phone call from your mother—”

Wesley tapped a button on the side of his helmet, cutting his sound off. Fleming’s lecture continued to scroll as text along the bottom of his screen, but he ignored it, instead looking at the girl. Her feet stuck out from under the table and he reached forward, helping her all the way under.

  “Yeah, that’s what I should be doing!” he snapped. The pain from the noise outside threatened to lay him out, but he forced his way through it. “But I didn’t realize how quickly they were moving and if I went out now…”

“They’d tear you apart.” She nodded sagely, taking the fact she’d found an Apex in pretty good stride all things considered. “But you’re an Apex, aren’t you? You can’t take them?”

She was definitely new, then. Had she not seen the angry mob? 

“And give them more reason to hate us? Besides, the paperwork alone would be a nightmare.”

She smirked and shifted around to peek under the table skirt. Wesley tried to remember if Anthony had mentioned her name, but he drew a blank.

“It looks like we might be stuck here for a while.” She turned back to Wesley, frowning. “There’s no way we’re getting past that crowd.”

Even with her sitting so close to him and his super hearing, it was hard to hear anything over the crowd’s chanting of “We want Epsilon Epsi-gone!” The sound of splintering wood cut through the noise. The crowd was getting more aggressive.

“They’ve started tearing apart booths farther down the pier,” he explained. “It’s only a matter of time before they flatten this one.”

As if on cue, the table overhead shuddered and bumped as the crowd knocked against it and Wesley tensed, ready to jump on the girl and stave off whatever wave of people was waiting to come crashing down on them, but the shaking passed and the girl sighed in relief.

“Why don’t you just take off your uniform?” she asked, pressing her hands over her eyes. “I can’t get through all those people, but maybe you can? Without your uniform, no one will know you’re an Apex and maybe you could help clear us a path to the exit?”

A warning from Fleming scrolled across the bottom of Wesley’s screen, but it wasn’t needed. Wesley felt the heat rise in his face as he thought back to his discarded backpack with his street clothes. 

“That’s a no-go. I, uh, I don’t have anything on under this.” Thank god the helmet’s voice modulator hid the embarrassed crack in his voice. “And if I took off my helmet, you’d see my face, and that’d be paperwork for both of us, maybe even a memory alteration—”

“Fine, I get it.”

Wesley hoped this girl didn’t show up in any of his classes. He’d never be able to talk to her without blushing now.

But they were running out of time and his brain didn’t have time to be embarrassed. He tried to think of a way out, anything. He looked at his gloved hands.

“I could probably punch a hole in the pier and then we could drop and swim away?”

She stared back at him blankly while Fleming flipped out on his screen, threatening Call Duty and bathroom cleaning if Wesley went through with that plan. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl deadpanned. “Punch a hole in the pier?”

He really hoped she didn’t have classes with him.

“It might take a couple goes but—”

She pulled her jacket off and threw it at him.

“Hey!” Wesley exclaimed, wrestling with the jacket off his visor. “It’s a good idea!”

“It’s ridiculous. Put that on over your uniform and we’ll do my plan.”

He maneuvered in the tight space, trying to get the zip-up on over his uniform, but it didn’t do anything to cover his helmet. 

“Try the hood,” the girl said and Wesley obliged, feeling the fabric straining to fit. “Can’t you carry it? Look, it’s dark under here and I promise not to look at your face. Just keep the hood up and no one will look twice at you.”

Wesley hesitated. It was dangerous. He looked at Fleming’s text.

"Do what you have to do. If she sees your face, you’re on probation." 

A loud bang accompanied renewed cries from the crowd outside.

“Now or never,” the girl prompted. 

“Fine.” This was a bad idea. “Look away. And don’t tell anyone I did this.”

He made sure she wasn’t looking and then slipped the helmet off over his head. He turned away from the girl as he pulled the hood up, tugging on it to pull it as low over his face as he could.

“You’re good.” He didn’t look back to see if she’d opened her eyes, instead lifting the side of the table skirt that led into the empty booth.

“Stay close.” He tried to speak low in an effort to disguise his voice but he sounded ridiculous. “If you lose me, I might not be able to help you.”

The girl creeped to the back door and tried the handle but the vendor had locked up. Wesley could probably bust it open, but he didn’t want to draw attention to his power in case anyone saw. 

“Over the table, then,” the girl said, turning back. Wesley bowed his head before she could catch a glimpse of his face but he extended a hand towards her. 

“Keep up and hold on.”

He took her hand in his, her fingers tightening in a way that told Wesley he had her trust. He hoped he could live up to it. He slid across the table, pulling her after him to chants of “Schrader is a Traitor!”

The pier had filled with protesters, and Wesley’s heart sank. He knew there’d always be those who hated Apex, but he’d never imagined there were enough in the city to fill the entire pier. 

Those nearest to the booth cried out in shock as Wesley bowled into them, pulling the girl after him. He passed his helmet back to her, careful to keep his face down and threw his free arm up to force a pathway through the crowd. 

Gentle, he told himself as he shoved people to the side. Don’t hurt anyone. 

The girl followed so close that she stepped on the back of Wesley’s boots more than once and mumbled breathless apologies as she struggled to keep up. Through it all, she kept her hand firmly in his until, as Wesley continued forward, he found resistance when he tried to pull her after him. She cried out and her hand slipped from his. Wesley twisted around, forgetting to hide his face.

But the girl didn’t see him. She clutched Wesley’s helmet against her chest as an angry man towered over her, holding her by the elbow. To Wesley’s shock, she smacked the man in the nose and his eyes bulged in rage. He lunged at the girl.

“You filthy, little Apex!”

Wesley leaped between them, pulling the girl back.

Gentle, he reminded himself again, as he pressed one hand against the man’s sternum and forced him backwards, hard enough so the man and the three people behind fell but not so hard that he broke any ribs. The girl’s smack to his nose probably left more lasting damage than anything Wesley did to him.

Wesley had a half-second of stunned shock from the onlookers to get moving again. He threw an arm over the girl, holding her close, trying to ignore how she smelt like fried dough and powdered sugar. The shrieks of the crowd and the glare of the sun and the blaring of the bull horn beat against Wesley, threatening to overwhelm him and he clung to the girl, not just in a bid to keep her safe but because he knew if he let go, he’d get lost in the noise.

He needed to put his helmet back on. As annoying as Fleming was, Wesley needed a sound to focus on and to cling to. But his arms were around the girl and he didn’t dare let go.

And then…

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

A new rhythm. A new sound to cling to. A heartbeat. It hammered in the girl’s chest. She was terrified and her heart raced but Wesley zeroed in on the sound, drowning everything else out, letting the steady rhythm carry him through the crowd.

And then there was the exit gate and a police officer ushering them out, along with the last few students struggling to escape.

Wesley let his arms fall from the girl and they ran, not stopping until they had put a couple blocks between them and the pier. They ducked into a small alley between two shops and the girl collapsed against the brick wall, gasping for air, her heart still pounding. 

“Helmet?” Wesley asked. He tugged on the lip of the hood, drawing it down over his face the best he could. The girl averted her gaze and tossed the helmet to him. Wesley spun his back towards her as he pulled it back over his head. “Thanks. I probably would’ve been stuck under that table without your jacket.”

“Unless you, what was it? Punched a hole in the pier and swam away.” 

“Property damage is paperwork.” He couldn’t help but smile. They’d made it and the alley was quiet. The pain in his head lifted, turning him giddy with relief. 

“Right. And you hate paperwork.” 

Wesley could see her better out here. Her skin had a sickly pallor to it and a long scar tracked the length of her neck and hooked around her collarbone but her eyes were bright and inquisitive, glittering gray in the shadowy alleyway. His cheeks turned warm and he was thankful for the visor covering most of his face.

He lifted finger guns in her direction.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, good, you made it,” Fleming growled in the helmet earpiece. “There’s a shuttle taking students back to campus. Get her on it and then I expect you in my office.”

Wesley gulped. He could hear the rattle of the campus shuttle and the buzz of anxious students a few blocks off, and nodded in that direction. 

“I can hear the campus shuttle a few blocks that way. It’s still picking up stragglers if you want to grab it.”

“What about you?” Her gray eyes narrowed.

“What about me?”

“How are you getting back to campus?”

Crap.

“Wesley, I swear if she knows you’re a student—”

“I don’t know what you mean.” It was a weak cover. Wesley knew it. The girl knew it. Fleming probably knew it.

“You’re a student, aren’t you? You can’t be that much older than me.”

“My office, Wesley. Now,” Fleming growled.

“Still don’t know what you mean,” Wesley shrugged. A fire escape hung overhead and he leaped upwards and hoisted himself over the railing. He caught a glimpse of the girl’s face and felt a thrill of satisfaction at seeing her shock. “Besides, I’ve got my own way home.”

Metal rang out underfoot as he climbed up to the roof. The girl watched him the whole way up and at the top, he paused to look down at her. It was much fainter from up here, but he could still hear it— the gentle ba-bump of her heart beating in her chest.

“Thanks again! Now hurry! The shuttle won’t wait forever!”

And with Fleming still lecturing him in his ear, Wesley spun around and sprinted across the rooftop towards campus.

The acrid scent of dust cleaner burned Wesley’s sinuses but he didn’t dare complain. Fleming must’ve been mid-clean of his office in preparation for the school year when he’d seen the alert on Wesley’s helmet go off. Now, the teacher paced behind his desk while Wesley braced for a lecture.

“What were you thinking?” Fleming seethed and Wesley shrank back in his seat. “You didn’t have permission to bring your uniform with you in the first place! And if that student had seen your face—”

“But she didn’t!” Wesley insisted. “And if I hadn’t been there, who knows what would’ve happened to her! Anthony says she’s been sick and puked on Jamie’s shoes last night. She never would’ve got away on her own.”

“Sick?” Fleming repeated, his face paling just the slightest. “It wasn’t Samantha, was it?”

Wesley shrugged.

“I don’t know her name. She’s Winnie’s new roommate, I think.”

Fleming fell back in his chair, pulling at his hair with both hands.

“Of course it would be her. I should call Alison.” He stared at his desk phone a moment before shaking his head. “No, she probably already knows. Besides, she had fifteen years to tell me if she wanted me to interfere.”

“You know her?” Wesley pressed, clinging to anything that might distract Fleming from doling out too harsh a punishment. 

“Not really,” he frowned, still staring at the phone. “That’s what’s so weird.” 

He then looked up at Wesley and reached for a clipboard.

“Actually, no, this is perfect.” He ran a finger down the clipboard until he found what he was looking for and then scribbled something down in the margins. “You’ll be her project partner.”

“What?” Wesley gawked. “No! You know how awkward that’s going to be? And what if she figures out who I am?”

“Then you’ll be on probation.” He let the clipboard fall to the desk and leaned back in his seat. “The city isn’t as safe as it used to be and if I let anything happen to Alison’s kid, there will be hell to pay.”

“So it’s a mission?” Wesley perked up a little. 

“No,” Fleming scowled. “It’s a school assignment. If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll stick her nose where it shouldn’t go. Being roommates with Winnie Hendricks isn’t going to help her, either. Today was proof enough of that. Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t wander off anymore.”

“Sounds like you want me to protect her. That’s a mission.”

“It’s not a mission!” Fleming snapped. “Just be a good classmate.”

Wesley rubbed his eye, trying to hide his blushing cheeks as he thought of the girl smacking the protester in the nose.

“Yeah, sure.” Still sounded like a mission, though, and even if Fleming insisted it wasn’t, that was good enough for Wesley.

He’d do everything in his power to make sure no harm came to Winnie’s new roommate.