The Rise of Dark Flame

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  “Yeah, get Blake,” Ralph said, waving his hand at the house. “Blake!” he cried out again.

  Stella shook her head. “Ralph, Blake ran away from home weeks ago. He’s not here.”

  “Oh geez, sorry,” one of the men said,” Well, uh, we can get him in the house for you.”

  “That little shit,” Ralph said, belching. Blake noticed his father’s body tense as he grabbed his stomach and winced. “That little bast…” Violent vomit finished the sentence as Ralph hurled semi-digested beer, burgers, fries, and whiskey all over the walkway. The two men freaked out and dropped him. He landed on all fours, puking his guts out on the front walkway.

  Blake sighed as his mom went back into the house to get a towel.

  When the upchuck turned to dry heaves, she tried to wipe his mouth, but he brusquely dismissed her.

  Ten minutes later, the men brought Ralph into the house and Blake assumed they settled him into his recliner. After, Stella escorted them back to their car, expressing her gratitude while rubbing her arms to stay warm. When they had driven away, she stared into the night sky and spoke to it. “Oh Blakey, I hope you found something better.” Then, she sighed and walked back into the house, locking the door behind her.

  Blake put his head down, resting his forehead on his arms.

  Then, he cried.

  ❖

  Victor

  “What have you got for me?” Victor asked, walking into the Androscoggin control room.

  “Look at the these readings,” Arek said, pointing to the monitors that displayed a simulation of the Rangeley facility’s collection with the proposed panel reconfiguration.

  Victor studied the readout. Whoa, you guys were right!

  Miguel looked at him and smiled triumphantly.

  “Is this the configuration we had before Dark Flame rearranged the panels?”

  “Nope,” Miguel answered. “We believe this represents the original design specifications. Somewhere in the reactor’s history, someone rearranged—or sabotaged—the panel layout to a configuration that deliberately decreased the orgone conversion process.”

  “So panel position actually matters?”

  “What once took months to collect and convert will now take days or hours under the right conditions.”

  “That’s the efficiency gain?” Victor asked, astounded.

  They both nodded, and Arek spoke. “Yes, and in a few weeks, we’ll have the larger panel analysis complete. We’ll be able to replicate this in all the reactors.”

  Victor smiled at them. “Excellent.”

  13 | 88 Miles Per Hour

  Quinn

  The next day, Quinn woke up before dawn in an exceptionally good mood and decided to join his dad for a morning run around Portsmouth to catch the sunrise. When they returned five miles and forty-five minutes later, Dad switched on the wireless sound system and cranked up the dance anthems. Then, he proceeded to make them protein shakes in the kitchen.

  “Aren’t you afraid of waking Daddio up?” Quinn asked over the loud music.

  Dad smiled wickedly and shook his head. “Nope.”

  Quinn grinned.

  A minute later, Daddio marched into the kitchen in pajama pants and wrapped his hands around his husband’s neck, pretending to throttle him. “Why must you torture me with dance anthems this early in the morning?”

  “That’s what you get for hogging the bed last night.”

  Quinn chuckled.

  Daddio rolled his eyes and announced breakfast would be ready in twenty minutes. “Now, sashay away and go clean your healthy, sweaty, and disgusting selves off before eating my good, clean food.”

  Quinn fist-bumped his dad, grabbed his shake, and then headed upstairs to preen.

  With I Wanna Dance With Somebody blaring on the wireless speaker in his bathroom, Quinn danced in the shower as he washed and sang along with Whitney Houston, using the shampoo bottle as a pretend microphone. Quinn dried off after showering and wrapped the towel around his waist. After wiping the steam from the foggy bathroom mirror, he flexed and admired his orgone-induced muscular tone in the mirror. He smiled when he saw the shiny silver ring Keegan had given him the night before.

  After Dad dropped him off at school, Quinn formed a line with the other students and made his way through the security gauntlet of DHS agents. The dogs hesitated on him again, but he pulled out the beef jerky and the agent waved him through. He smirked and made his way into the cafeteria to meet up with his friends.

  Loren had arrived first and was engrossed in one of his smutty novels. When she saw him coming, she smiled and tucked the novel into his backpack.

  Quinn joined her at their usual spot and sat down, feeling hyper and very happy. She studied him carefully with her puffy, early-morning eyes.

  “What’s got you all smiles?” Loren asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Quinn shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, it’s just a great day today.”

  She spotted the silver ring on his finger and pointed. “What’s that?”

  Quinn blushed. “It’s…”

  “Oh my gosh!” Loren gushed. “You’re not…”

  “Wait, let me finish!” Quinn said, excitedly cutting her off. “Keegan got us boyfriend rings.

  “Aww, that’s so sweet,” Loren said, fanning himself.

  “What’s so sweet?” Ravone asked, walking around the table. She dropped her heavy book bag on the floor.

  Quinn flashed his ring hand and wiggled his fingers. “Keegan got us matching boyfriend rings.”

  Ravone rolled her eyes and smiled widely. “Does it get any gayer with you two?”

  “Hey!” Quinn exclaimed, laughing. “He’s romantic and sweet, just what my little heart desires.”

  “Well, good,” she said smirking. “I’m happy for you.”

  “How are you and your mystery man doing?” Loren blurted out.

  Ravone glared at her. “Loren! You weren’t supposed to say anything.”

  Quinn looked quickly between the two of them. “A mystery man? And you’re not saying anything? What are we, keeping secrets now?” His right eye quivered and slammed shut as he sensed Blake approaching the school parking lot. He’s been coming to school almost every day…I suppose that’s good, right?

  “Look, I don’t want to cause a fuss,” Ravone said, her face becoming cross.

  “Aha! You are seeing someone,” Quinn exclaimed, confirming his suspicions.

  Ravone glared at him with eyes that could melt steel. “No, I’m not. I tried to make it work, but it all fell apart.”

  “Make what work?” Quinn asked, intrigued.

  She sighed. “You were right,” Ravone said with defeat. “Blake will never be my boyfriend. His unresolved anger issues only got me hurt in the end.”

  “You’ve been talking with Blake?” Quinn asked incredulously. Sadness filled his heart and Loren looked between the two of them with concern.

  “A little, but not much. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to hurt you. I know how much it bothers you to think about him and I just thought…I don’t know what I thought. Clearly, I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

  Quinn swallowed. “What happened? Did he physically hurt you, Ravone?” If he hurt her, I’ll…I don’t know what I’ll do…

  “Did he hit me, you mean? No. We had a date, but he acted all weird and indifferent toward me. Darien showed up and they almost got in a fist-fight. Then he had some kind of weird seizure or something and after that, Blake ditched me.”

  Quinn narrowed his eyes. A seizure? That’s not Blake. If something—like a control chip—is malfunctioning in his brain, that might explain what’s going on with Blake. He’s definitely an angry kid but this evil person he’s becoming…that’s so far out of his character…or is it? So, how did Darien get hurt?

  “Does that have something to do with how Darien broke his arm?” Quinn asked, nodding his head toward the cafeteria entrance.

  “He deserved it,” Ravone snapped. “No,
he um, broke his arm after he left the park. He decided to run in front of a dump truck on Marcy Street.”

  Or he was pushed… Quinn dismissed the idea, refusing to believe Blake was capable of nearly murdering a classmate…but it lingered in the back of his mind.

  Ravone shrugged and nodded her head to something behind Quinn. He turned as Keegan walked over to them with a wide grin across his face. Allowing his mind to drift away from Blake, he stood to greet his boyfriend, kissing him deeply and completely forgetting about the student body around them. Some of the students wolf-whistled and clapped. Quinn pulled back and laughed, blushing.

  “Ha! So, that’s why you guys are in such a good mood,” Loren said knowingly, wagging her hand between the two of them.

  “What gives? What do you mean?” Ravone asked, eyeing them both with great interest. “You two seem way too happy for the morning, especially with all the agents and security running around the school.”

  Quinn shrugged, unable to take his eyes off Keegan. “I don’t know, just a good night I guess.”

  “Just a good night?” Ravone echoed.

  Oops, that’s not what I meant to say. The boys giggled, blushing yet again. Then, they sat down, unable to wipe the beaming, silly grins from their faces.

  Quinn turned to Ravone and winked. “I guess I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

  Ravone rolled her eyes and smirked. “Uh-huh. So, did you guys notice they cut back on security a little?

  “I did,” Keegan answered. “I didn’t get harassed on the way into school this morning. I’ll be glad when they catch Blue Spekter, so life can go back to normal.”

  Quinn winced but nodded in feigned agreement. How the hell do I persuade you that Blue Spekter is a good guy? That I’m a good guy?

  The bell rang, signaling it was time to move to first period. “Well, see you guys later,” Ravone said, sighing. “I’m off to meet destiny.”

  They exchanged goodbyes and Quinn went to first period. After his third morning class, Quinn meandered through the hallways to the library. He needed to study for a possible U.S. History pop-quiz he learned about in third period. He settled in and re-read the pertinent chapter in his textbook.

  About twenty minutes later, his super hearing found its way to a hushed conversation between two teachers on the other side of the library; they spoke about something on Interstate 95.

  Should I listen in, or should I ignore them?

  Curiosity got the better of him and he eavesdropped on their conversation, quickly learning of a car chase happening right now. He discreetly pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the local news. With shots already fired, local police and state troopers were struggling to catch a supercharged getaway car and the police helicopter hadn’t arrived on scene yet, although a civilian was following the chase in his private copter and radioing in to police dispatch. The occupants of the car had successfully robbed an armored car in Maine and were heading south on the interstate through New Hampshire toward Massachusetts.

  Am I supposed to leave school now and go save the day? I’m a kid! It’s not like I’m Superman and I can just leave the Daily Planet whenever I want to, right? Or, maybe I can…

  Remembering his conversation with Ron prior to saving his four classmates from the freezing waters of the Piscataqua River, Quinn took a deep breath and packed up his school bag. Then, he quickly made his way to his locker and shoved the book bag inside, slamming the door shut. Footsteps behind him caught his attention as two agents rounded the corner and walked past him, only glancing at him before ignoring him completely, too engrossed in their conversation. He paused, then, put his wallet and phone into his locker and locked it.

  Crap, I need to sneak past all those goons on my way out.

  A moment later, when he was alone in the hallway, Quinn shifted and became invisible. Then, he ran to the main entrance and looked up at the security camera.

  Now, all I have to do is wait for someone to walk in or out.

  A few minutes later, a timely changing of the guards presented an opportunity for Quinn to sneak outside. One of the police dogs barked as he exited the building, but since the officers saw nothing, they told the dog to stop. A moment later, Quinn leapt into the air. Once he spotted the private helicopter, he flew toward the car chase.

  A bright blue streak of light trailed behind Blue Spekter as he banked to the right, lining up his flight path with the southbound lane of Interstate 95.

  On the ground ahead of him, at least ten police cruisers—all with lights and sirens blaring—chased a gray sedan that recklessly weaved in and out of mid-morning traffic. This is going to get tricky with all that traffic around.

  Further ahead, he saw that state troopers had cleared the southbound lane and most of the traffic had pulled off to the side. Good, that will keep this from getting too messy. Maybe I can stop him before they reach the Hampton tollbooth.

  The red private helicopter continued to pursue the criminals, flying several hundred feet above and to the right of the southbound lane. The sound of gunfire below reached Blue Spekter’s ears. He looked down and saw two men with automatic rifles leaning out of the sedan’s back windows, shooting at the police cruisers.

  The lead three cruisers swerved dangerously, taking fire from the armed thieves and nearly colliding with one another. I have to get down there and protect them.

  Blue Spekter put his hands in front of him and accelerated, descending until he flew just ahead of the lead police car, matching its speed. He imagined a wide forcefield spread across the highway ten feet in front of the lead car. A moment later, small blue flashes of light indicated the defensive shield caught the bullets fired from the gunmen.

  When the criminals realized what was going on, they started yelling at each other. One of them pulled himself back inside the car. Then, the sunroof on the sedan slid back and the man reappeared, popping out of the sunroof hole with a larger, dark gray tube-like weapon with a box on one end. The man hoisted it onto his shoulder and pointed the business end at the police. Good grief, is that…a rocket launcher? How the hell do I stop that?

  The other man, hanging out of rear driver’s side window, continued to fire at the police, but Blue Spekter’s shield deflected the bullets.

  Blue Spekter braced himself and projected a stronger shield, hoping it would catch the blast from the rocket and protect the cruisers behind him from any collateral damage. Suddenly, the rocket man spun around and took aim at the nearby helicopter.

  “Oh shit,” Blue Spekter exclaimed. I can’t protect the cops and the helicopter at the same time…which is exactly what they planned on…holy crap, they knew exactly how to defeat me!

  Then, the gunman fired and smoke shot out the back of the rocket launcher.

  “No!” Blue Spekter shouted, soaring through the air toward the rocket. The helicopter pilot veered off as Blue Spekter’s super speed propelled him toward the rocket. He reached out and grabbed it in midair, his high velocity carrying him several hundred feet beyond the helicopter and the interstate before the rocket exploded in his hands.

  Blue Spekter wasn’t ready for the concussive blast of the explosion or the intense double-pop in his head when both eardrums ruptured. Screaming with pain and surprise, his stomach lurched around inside of him as his body spun wildly through the air.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

  Disoriented, in pain, and ready to throw up, his brain struggled to figure out which way was up, but the sky and the ground blended together in a continuous whirling swirl of blue and brownish green. Then, he slammed into the ground on his back, forming a small crater in someone’s back yard. Dirt and grass rained down around him.

  Ow.

  Everything hurt.

  Even breathing hurt.

  The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils and he choked, coughed, then spit blood into the air.

  Do I have my fingers? Do I have my toes?

  He clenched his hands into fists and felt all of his fi
ngers. Thank goodness.

  He cried out in pain as his body started healing itself. Broken bones in his rib cage realigned themselves with a popping sound and his broken left femur snapped into position. The tibia and fibia of his right leg did the same.

  He winced in pain as his body healed, and when he rolled onto his left side, he coughed up more blood. He wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm and noticed his bare arm.

  Where the heck is my sweatshirt?

  Motion caught his eye and he looked up to see burning pieces of fabric falling to the ground around him. Then, he looked down at his naked body, his healing skin blackened from the heat of the explosion. Oh man, the clothes burned right off me. This just got really weird. Now I have to go home before going back to school.

  He sat up and looked around the fenced-in backyard he had crashed in but saw no one. Hopefully, nobody’s home to see a naked teenager rolling around in the dirt of their yard.

  He gently stretched his arms and legs, making sure his body had mostly healed before trying to stand. A moment later, the popping of bones and the rebuilding of torn muscle fibers, tendons, blood vessels, and skin faded away.

  His ears healed and he heard the thumping sound of helicopter blades in the distance; it brought his mind back to the situation at hand. He pushed himself off the ground and stood, switching on his eyes and body glow. He glowed more brightly than ever and he assumed it was because he had no clothes on. Hopefully I’m glowing bright enough so that the world won’t see my junk and the DHS won’t add public indecency to my list of offenses.

  Blue Spekter willed himself to fly, accelerating and climbing rapidly to gain his bearings. Looking around to see where he was, he caught sight of the red helicopter and hit the metaphorical gas pedal. Then, he banked right and flew toward the car chase on Interstate 95. Within seconds, he caught up to the police cruisers and reassessed the situation. The driver side gunman still fired on the police cars, but they had backed away to avoid being struck by stray bullets. All those people pulled off to the side of the highway are in danger of being shot; worse, if they fired into the oncoming lane, they’d create a nightmare of problems. Okay, I’m sick of this shit now. This ends now.