Reckoners 01 - Steelheart

bucket, then hauled it down the tunnel and dumped it. I did that a few more times, then got back to digging with the tensor. The others were hauling the dust the rest of the way out.
    I added a few feet to the tunnel, then checked my mobile to see how I was doing. Abraham had set up three others above to create a kind of triangulation system that let me cut this tunnel with precision. I needed to go a bit more to the right, then I needed to angle upward.
    Next time I pick a location to ambush a High Epic
, I thought,
I’m going to choose one that’s closer to established understreet tunnels
.
    The rest of the team agreed with Abraham that they should wire the field with explosives from below, and they also wanted a few hidden tunnels leading up to the perimeter. I was pretty sure we’d be happy to have those when we faced Steelheart, but building all of it was getting
very
tiring.
    I almost regretted that I’d shown so much talent with the tensor. Almost. It was still pretty awesome to be able to dig through solid steel with just my hands. I couldn’t hack like Tia, scout as well as Cody, or fix machinery like Abraham. This way, at least, I had a place in the team.
    Of course
, I thought as I vaporized another section of the wall,
Prof’s ability makes mine look like a piece of rice. And not even a cooked one
. I was basically only useful in this role because he refused to take it. That dampened my satisfaction.
    A thought occurred to me. I raised my hand, summoning the tensor’s vibrations. How had Prof done it to make that sword? He’d pounded the wall, hadn’t he? I tried to mimic the motion, pounding my fist against the side of the tunnel and directing the burst of energy in my mind from the tensor.
    I didn’t get a sword. I caused several handfuls of dust to streamout of a pocket in the wall, followed by a long lump of steel that looked vaguely like a bulbous carrot.
    Well, it’s a start. I guess
.
    I reached down to pick up the carrot, but caught sight of a light moving up the small tunnel. I quickly kicked the carrot into the pile of dust, then got back to work.
    Prof soon moved up behind me. “How’s it going?”
    “Another couple of feet,” I said. “Then I can carve out the pocket for the explosives.”
    “Good,” Prof said. “Try to make it long and thin. We want to channel the explosion upward, not back down the tunnel here.”
    I nodded. The plan was to weaken the “roof” of the pocket, which would lie just below the center of Soldier Field. Then we’d seal the explosives in with some careful welding by Cody, directing the blast the direction we wanted it to go.
    “You keep at it,” Prof said. “For now I’ll take care of carting off the dust for you.”
    I nodded, grateful for the chance to just spend more time with the tensor. It was Cody’s. He’d given it up for me, as mine was still a ripped, zombie-droopy-eyed mess. I hadn’t asked Prof about the two he carried. It didn’t seem prudent.
    We worked in silence for a time, me carving out chunks of steel, Prof carting off the dust. He found my carrot sword and gave me an odd look. I hoped he didn’t see me blush in the faint light.
    Eventually my mobile beeped, telling me I was nearing the right depth. I carefully crafted a long hole at shoulder level. Then I reached in and began creating a small “room” to stuff the explosives into.
    Prof walked back, carrying his bucket, and saw what I’d done. He checked his mobile, looking up at the ceiling, then rapped softly at the metal with a small hammer. He nodded to himself, though I couldn’t tell any difference in the way it sounded.
    “You know,” I said, “I’m pretty sure these tensors defy the laws of physics.”
    “What? You mean destroying solid metal with your fingers isn’t normal?”
    “More than that,” I said. “I think we get less dust than we should. It always seems to settle down and take up less space than the steel did—but it couldn’t do that unless it was denser than the steel, which it can’t possibly be.”
    Prof grunted, filling another bucket.
    “Nothing about the Epics makes sense,” I said, pulling a few armfuls of dust out of the hole I was making. “Not even their powers.” I hesitated. “Particularly not their powers.”
    “True enough,” Prof said. He continued filling his buckets. “I owe you an apology, son. For how I acted.”
    “Tia explained it,” I said quickly. “She said you’ve got some things in your past.