Jane wasn’t making an empty boast about her skill, I discovered. On the outside, the van looked extremely ordinary (and the dust of the unsealed road was no doubt progressively adding to that impression), but it practically drove itself. On this country road, it should have been like driving a hippopotamus on roller skates, but it flowed smoothly and easily around the curves, clinging to the road like a scared kid to his teddy bear.
Even when Kevin shrieked in my ear and I jerked the wheel, it gently ignored me and carried on around the curve we were on, sliding smoothly to a stop on the next straight as I switched brake for accelerator.
“What is it?” I asked, worried.
“It’s OK, it’s back now.”
“What? What’s back?”
“Everything. Everyone. I – my power switched off for a few moments as we came around that curve, and it startled me. Sorry, but it’s like being struck suddenly blind.”
“Interesting,” said Jane from the back. “Back up a bit, can you? I want to see if it happens again.”
I looked at Kevin for permission, and he nodded.
The van went just as smoothly backwards as forwards. “That’s it,” said Kevin, partway round the curve. “It’s like you’ve just vanished. I mean, I can still see you,” he said to me, “but I can’t… locate you.”
“You can still see him?” asked Jane. “What about you, Marie? Can you see John?”
She looked directly at me for the first time. “Sure,” she said, “I can see him. So that’s what you look like. Hmm.” She sounded unimpressed. Even if you can see me, I’m still… nondescript.
“And – can you open the door?” asked Jane.
Marie gave her a look, then opened the door which led to the back of the van. It led to the back of the van.
“Power damper,” said Jane. “OK, pull forward to where you were before, John.”
I did, and we re-tested. Kevin could locate me, Marie couldn’t focus on me, and the door she opened was to a cupboard containing old electronic components.
“Aha,” said Jane. “Hey, did the van perform any differently in the dampened zone?”
“No, it was just the same,” I said.
“So either it doesn’t affect my power, or once I’ve built something it keeps working even inside the dampened zone. Let’s see which one.”
She pulled out some electronic components and fussed with them, then had me drive back into the “zone” and fussed with some others. She linked them all to her laptop.
“Mm-hm. Mm-hm,” she said. “Drive forward.” Her attention was riveted to the screen.
She had me drive back and forward several times, then announced, “All right then. My power is dampened by the zone as well, but once I’ve made something work right outside the zone it keeps working right inside the zone. That’s going to be useful. All right, Google Maps.”
She pressed keys.
“Now, drive on and take the second left.”
I was used to obeying women with an air of authority. I drove on and took the second left.
“Kevin,” said Jane, “yell out when you blank out. I want a cross-check with my instruments.”
After a minute or two, he said, “Now.”
“Mm-hm. Mm-hm. And ending…”
“Now.”
“Yes. All right, the instruments work. Now, let’s see…” she tapped and clicked. “Assuming it’s circular, which seems reasonable, the centre of the field is right… here.” She leaned forward and showed us the screen, which had the points of contact, a big circle crossing them, and the centre point on the circle marked on a map.
“I didn’t know Google Maps could do that,” I said.
“It can on my laptop. There’s nothing showing there, just a big hill. Interesting. All right, I think we should go home now. I’m getting tired, it’s been a long day from my perspective. In the morning we can strategize some more. Pull in… up there, and we’ll use the door to get back to the old factory.” She stabbed at a turnout marked on the map.
“The doors don’t always go where you expect them to,” said Marie.
“OK, but I definitely need to sleep, so let’s have a door to somewhere we can sleep,” Jane replied.
I pulled into the turnout and Marie opened the door. As it happened, it led to the factory.
Jane was up before us the next morning, and her laptop was full of blueprints by the time we stirred. She tried to explain them over breakfast, but lost us quickly.
“Bottom line,” said Marie impatiently. “What do these do?”
“These ones shield us against the effect. I think.”
“You think?”
“Well, I won’t know until we’ve gone back and tested, will I? If I could get a good look at the field generator it would be a lot easier. I have to work with what I’ve got, though.”
“Tinfoil hats?” said Kevin incredulously. “You’re seriously going to make us tinfoil hats?”
“Tinfoil hats that work“, she said. “This is the key point to remember.”
“Tinfoil hats that you think will work.”
“Look, first we build the hats. Then we build the other gear. Then we go back through the door to the van, drive into the region and test it. If it works…”
“Yes, if it works, then what?”
“Then we go scouting and find out more about that hill. That’s got to be where Mr Brown is holding our theoretical colleagues. I mean, why would you have a power nullifier if you weren’t holding people with powers?”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we work on it some more until it does. Unless you have a better idea?”
Nobody had a better idea, so we did that.
Mike Reeves-McMillan lives in Auckland, New Zealand, the setting of his Auckland Allies contemporary urban fantasy series; and also in his head, where the weather is more reliable, and there are a lot more wizards. He also writes the Gryphon Clerks series (steampunk/magepunk), the Hand of the Trickster series (sword-and-sorcery heist capers), and short stories which have appeared in venues such as Compelling Science Fiction and Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores.
