John felt his bowels loosen, his knees buckle. His muscles forgot to hold his spine upright. First his shoulder, and then his hip connected with the stairway wall. He slumped, maintained his balance, but just. He sucked in air to scream—then couldn’t do that either.
It all happened in an instant, but felt like a year.
Not one cognizant thought raced through John’s head. Thinking took time, and there was none to spare. With nothing to fill his neuro-pathways, the synapses remained open and waiting, ready to pour power from the portion of his brain that had been trained to do impossible things. The floodgates opened on their own, sending a surge of electrical energy jangling through his nervous system.
There was no question what to do with it.
John caught his brother.
He never moved a muscle. But he caught him—inches before Scott would have crashed into the concrete steps, tumbled, breaking bones and skin, crushing vertebrae, rattling brain cells, shredding flesh