I report for duty at 0800 hours. I'm aware when Rick is in the vicinity. My neck tingles, and it radiates to my heart. I must concentrate on my training. Sam is in my group, and Sergeant Rothbridge is our commanding officer for training. He watches me closely. I know he's trying to bait me to be snarky. However, I know my position, having learned the lesson during boot camp.
At 0900 hours, Uncle Ted sends my group to the infirmary for preliminary blood tests and scans. Sam runs to catch up to me. She quietly explains her reason for enlisting. I never knew she possessed unmentionable abilities. A tall, lanky man with deep-set dark eyes and wavy sandy blonde hair catches up to us. He tells us that he graduated from MIT. I know his name is Diesel. It's an unusual name. Sam eyes him appreciatively. Unmentionables hooking up with each other isn't wise.
We patiently wait for the medic to call our name. I'm first, which surprises me. The medic asks about my contraceptives, stating that female recruits should have reliable birth control. I ask, "Do you have the three-month shot?"
He smiles and prepares the dosage as he asks about my last period and when I had sex. I blush and answer that I haven't been sexually active in eight months. He dips a pregnancy test in the urine and sets the timer. We discussed my general health until the alarm indicated the time was up. "Not pregnant," he announces.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He asks me to lower my pants on my left hip. After swiping the area with an alcohol swab, he injects the contraceptive. "Come back if you experience any rash, itching, swelling in your face, throat or tongue, severe dizziness or trouble breathing. Those are all signs of an allergic reaction. Common side effects are nausea, headaches, weight gain, and longer or lack of periods.
"Thank you," I reply when he dismisses me.
Diesel raises a brow. I know he overheard the conversation between the medic and me. He smirks when the medic calls his name next. I'll have to wait to bust his ass for listening to a private conversation. He exits the examination room fifteen minutes later.
I point over my shoulder with my thumb, indicating I want to speak to him outside. "Did you hear my conversation?" Diesel immediately asks.
"Like you overheard mine?" I counter. He sheepishly smiles and nods. "No, I didn't hear your conversation with the medic. How could you hear mine?" I quirk my head to the left, awaiting his response.
"It's one of the things I can do," Diesel confesses. "Do you know your abilities?"
"Absolutely. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," I reply.
Diesel looks into my eyes for a few minutes. It feels as though he's reading my mind. His eyes are a warm brown, reminding me of Rick's eyes when I bumped into him after catching Dickie with my best friend from Georgia.
"I'm sorry your friend stole your boyfriend," Diesel whispers. "Rick is in the other training class." Diesel continues to look into my eyes. "Ah. That skill will definitely come in handy. Tell me, have you purposely made electronically controlled items move, or did you blow them up?" He touches my arm, and we suddenly move three feet away. I gasp. He knows all of my abilities, and I know his. Diesel can read minds if he's looking into your eyes. He can transport like magic, and he has superior hearing.
I know everything about him as he learns about me. "Can the others do that?" I whisper.
"No. Just me," Diesel replies. "I must be careful because I might accidentally remove someone's powers."
"You didn't take mine, right?" I ask, afraid of his answer.
"Of course not," Diesel answers. "I have to tap into that part."
"Seriously?"
"I can't take powers unless it's intentional. I was only teasing about taking them accidentally. The process drains me, which is why I avoid it," Diesel explains.
We talked for a few more minutes before Diesel indicated we had to return to the group. Our group trains after lunch.
Sam catches up to Diesel and me. She seems very attracted to Diesel. I feel it's dangerous for her to pursue the attraction. I'm unsure how to sense the danger, but I can. Diesel whispers, "It's your intuition. Kind of like Spider-Man."
"Spidey sense?" I ask. Diesel nods. "I already knew I had that. It usually activates when impending danger or something will affect me."
"There's more to that ability. I'm sure it will become evident as you train," Diesel suggests. I wonder how he's sure. "My father is friends with a man with that ability. He's the best tracker in the universe."
I wish to meet that man to help teach me to use that ability to its full potential. Diesel chuckles and nods to Uncle Ted, Dad and General Jansen. Dad raises a brow when I catch his eye. My spidey sense is telling me something. I know Dad's an unmentionable. He has to be. I feel it to my bones. Being around others is enhancing my skills. It's equivalent to adding an espresso shot to my morning coffee.
Sam tugs my arm. "We have thirty-five minutes to eat and report for training," she hisses in my ear. I turn away from Dad and the others, letting Sam and Diesel guide me to the servers.
Recognizing me from boot camp, the woman fills my plate with food. "Thank you," I reply.
I sat at the table closest to Dad. He nods and returns to the conversation with the others. Someone is watching me. I can feel him. After taking a bite of my food, I glance around the mess hall to find the culprit. Rick is watching me—his brow quirks in amusement.
Lester nudges him and whispers. Rick's eyes open wider as he questions Lester. I'm unable to hear their conversation.
Diesel sits beside me and whispers, "The blond told the Cuban that he missed having dinner with you last night."
Smirking, I catch Rick's eye and wink before shrugging. It's his loss. "Twenty minutes," Sam hisses when she sits beside Diesel. I can feel the attraction between Diesel and Sam. It's palpable and makes me slightly uncomfortable. The red flags are flying. My spidey senses are going haywire. I really hope Diesel restrains himself by ignoring the attraction between them.
"The blond is Lester; the Cuban is Rick," I reply.
"He's so hot," Sam whispers.
"Mine," I bark. Sam giggles and raises her hands in defeat. I have no idea why I'm suddenly possessive of the Cuban man. The attraction and connection I feel with him are strong. It's more potent than when I bumped into him outside Dickie's bedroom.
I catch his eye before he leaves with the others. He nods and winks, giving me the impression he heard my declaration. "Diesel, did he hear me?"
My new friend grins, displaying the gorgeous dimples on his cheeks. Good Lord, have mercy on me. Diesel already smells of Christmas and freshly baked cookies; why did he get blessed with a handsome smile and pearly white teeth?
"I'd take that as a yes, Steph," Sam giggles. She bumps Diesel's arm with her shoulder. Sam is a few inches shorter than me, while Diesel is at least six inches taller than me. Since I'm five foot seven, I estimate his height at six foot two.
"Excellent guess," Diesel whispers.
"Stop reading my mind!" I snap.
"Sunshine, I'm not reading your mind. Your face is very expressive," Diesel explains, making me groan when I catch Sam nodding.
I stand from the table and collect the trays to place on the dirty dishes trolley. Diesel collects the cups, leaving the cutlery for Sam. She uses a napkin to pick them up from the top tray. Sam curls her lip in disgust as she deposits them in the designated bucket. I roll my eyes and exchange a glance with Diesel, who's trying to stop himself from laughing.
We walked to our training grounds, and I suddenly stopped. I try to hide my reaction to seeing Vince Carrera waiting for us. He's two years older than Lenny and on the same high school football team. Vince went to college after graduating high school and joined the Army after completing an undergraduate degree. I glance around for Sergeant Rothbridge before approaching him.
"You told my dad!" I hiss.
"Steph?" Vince asks. He barely recognizes me, so I nod. I haven't seen him in many years. In fact, it was before I hit puberty. He takes a step back. "I didn't tell your dad. He overheard the conversation," Vince defends.
"Did he join, too?" I ask, referring to the Army.
"No. Jed went on to law school at Harvard. He isn't military and won't visit me here," Vince replies. I feel myself relax from the news. He looks over my shoulder at the crowd of recruits. "You're one of us."
I give Vince my best Burg glare, "Why are you here?" Catching Sergeant Rothbridge's approach, I quickly fall in line.
"At ease," Rothbridge orders. He walks down the line and stops in front of me. "Is there a problem with my assistant, Plummeri?"
"No, Sir," I quickly reply.
"Wrong answer," he snarls. I see amusement dancing behind his eyes despite the scary-as-hell face he's displaying. Rothbridge doesn't need to know about the personal nature of the confrontation with Vince.
I can't stop myself from answering, "Carrera inadvertently shared private information with my dad about the day I lost my virginity to his best friend from summer camp."
"Private matters must remain private, Plummeri. Give me twenty," Rothbridge orders. I move away from the group and give him the best push-ups I can do. I'm thinking about our interaction as I logically assess how he got me to confess. I suspect he's an unmentionable. How else could he draw that explanation from my mind? Rothbridge waits for me to finish my twenty before issuing orders to the group.
"Vince is helping me with training this afternoon," Rothbridge says. "His skills will help everyone hone their abilities."
Sergeant Rothbridge's statement is surprising. I never thought Vince Carrera could be an unmentionable. Or perhaps he isn't, and he's adept at drawing skills from others. I feel Diesel grinning beside me. It throws me off guard because it isn't something I previously experienced.
Is training with other men and women with these out-of-this-world latent abilities drawing mine to the surface? I sense Rothbridge's amusement as he walks the line and stops in front of me. "Daydreaming, Plummeri?" he asks. His voice is stern, feigning annoyance, but I feel his hidden laughter.
"Yes, Sir," I stupidly replied. He doesn't make me do more push-ups, which is a huge relief. Why can't I lie to Sergeant Rothbridge? I sense his answer, but I don't hear it. He is an unmentionable. His specialty is getting others to confess.
"Vince will work with two soldiers each day. He will email a schedule, which I expect everyone to follow without exception," he orders while staring at me. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir," we reply.
Rothbridge's lip curls imperceptibly, yet I catch it. I feel the buzz in the air with the other nineteen soldiers in my troop. Whatever else is happening on the base is irrelevant to my military life. I'm feeling energized with the others like myself. Why didn't Dad explain this to me? Was it something I needed to experience? I want the answers. Unfortunately, those answers won't come until our training ends, if they come at all.
Vince and Rothbridge put us through the paces for the next thirteen weeks. It seems our training is more extensive than that of the other recruits. Our latent abilities inevitably are drawn to the surface. I'm unintentionally exploding things. Mind you, they are derelict structures and irreparable vehicles, but it took me and everyone else by surprise.
My comrades start calling me Bomba. I find it annoying more than anything else. It mainly reminds me of Mom's admonition of anything strange happening while I was around. I wonder if she's right about setting that go-cart on fire. It isn't important if Mom is right. Her opinion of me doesn't matter.
Dad joins us during the final week of training. I'm thrilled to see pride in his eyes when I finally control my abilities. Vince had to take me aside and teach me how to manage the dangerous explosions. I couldn't have done it without his help.
I'm right about Dad having unmentionable abilities. He can track people by concentrating on a photograph of them. Dad is the best tracker in the military. His skills help find the worst of the civilians and the evil unmentionables. Dad is wickedly fast. Whenever Uncle Ted went with Dad, it meant they were chasing after an unmentionable who went rogue or used their abilities for heinous activities.
Each of my comrades has a different ability and skill set. Diesel can read minds. He can transport himself with another person, which I already knew. Like my dad, Diesel can track anyone worldwide, especially other unmentionables.
Me? I can harness emotions and convert them to energy. When too much builds up, I have to relieve them before it explodes from my fingertips. My intuition alerts me of danger or whenever Rick is close.
An amusing thought intrudes inside my mind. Diesel, having read my mind, laughs. "X-men aren't real," he says.