The Push Chronicles (Book 1): Indomitable Read Online Free PDF

something about what must seem to him like a miscarriage of justice.
    I also had little doubt that Eric was one of these ‘Pushes’ ... my guess was that he was the one who caught the plane at Hartsfield.  It would explain his vague mention of changes in that text.  So, basically, my boyfriend changed the universe because he wanted to hurt the man who took his parents away, who, while not innocent, certainly wasn’t in full control of his actions.
    I felt a huge wave of divergent thought come on and pushed it away.  I was becoming adept at that.  I scribbled in my notebook’s margins to do a full physiological examination of myself, especially an EEG, as soon as possible.  I had a suspicion as to why these odd thought processes were happening, but I would have to wait to confirm or deny that suspicion.  After all, my equipment was at the lab, and I was officially playing hookie today.
    There was actually one thought, while divergent, that the real me was starting to embrace.  The thought that I might be in the peculiar position to actually do something about Eric ... about the Whiteout ... about all of it.  Didn’t I have the obligation to try at least?
    If I was going to go through with this, I had one realistic shot at making contact with Eric.  There was no way in Hell I was going to sit and twiddle my thumbs waiting for him to show up on his own time.  Pushing aside the bizarre notion to pull a distressed damsel routine and lure him to rescue me (disgusting and dangerous in one neat package!), there was one place I knew he would be today: his parents’ graves.  I could only hope that I hadn’t already missed him.

Chapter 5 Grave
    The problem I faced as I got ready to head over to the cemetery was what, if anything, I should do to prepare myself.  It’s not as if there had been a seminar on how to deal with a crazy ex-boyfriend with superhuman powers to take when I was in college.  I had severe doubts as to the point of carrying that can of mace or the rape whistle.  Even the .32 caliber pistol my father had insisted Eric and I take as a housewarming gift (for home defense, of course) seemed pretty silly to think about taking.  Dad had died just a month later, bless his soul.  If I was right and Eric had been the one who caught a jumbo jet out of flight, the only sensible thing to do was to take nothing even remotely threatening and pick up the sword of reason against him.  I felt remarkably foolish and woefully unprotected.
    I just had to put faith in the notion that Eric still had some kind of feelings for me.  After all, I couldn’t dispute that that I didn’t have some towards him, so it was a good chance the reverse was true.  His text after the Whiteout implied that.
    I was still going to dump him though.  So very hard.  It would have to wait, at least officially, until I made this shot at trying to ... well, I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure on what exactly I was looking to achieve.  I was holding onto a rather unlikely hope that, if I could convince Eric that this experiment was a mistake, that he both had the means and the will to fix things back to the way they were.
    Not that the rest of the world seemed eager for that.  As I had finished getting into my most practical set of motorcycle leathers, the only thing the TV could drone on about was the Whiteout.  It was now thirteen hours into the Push (the media had coined the term in the last hour, some sound byte about having power ‘pushed’ through the body) and everyone wanted to talk to a Pushed person.  It seemed like no one paid much attention to the fact that Congress had been called into emergency session to address the Whiteout crisis or that fatalities from Push-related violence had already topped two hundred people.  It was, to me, unfathomable how no one seemed to care.
    I took a deep, steadying breath as I slipped on my motorcycle helmet.  I had to keep my focus, remember my arguments, and keep the alien