Hero

by Perry Moore

  As I stumbled toward the clinic, I realized I hadn't been this sick since I was a kid, since before my powers had developed. My head was pounding, and I felt feverish and weak. I'd woken up in the parking lot on the hood of Scarlett's car just a few minutes earlier. Maybe the day's events had taken more out of me than I thought; it was a vicious rebound effect. Or maybe I was recovering from Scarlett's burns, healing myself. Either way, I wasn't sure how long I'd been out, and I'd never been knocked out like this before.

  Inside the clinic I waited for the elevator and felt like I was being watched. The light had burned out in the hall, so it was difficult to see. I looked down the corridor and was convinced I heard something around the corner. Footsteps. I peered down the hallway but didn't see anything except the door to the stairwell.

  I looked up the shaft of empty space made by the staircase as it spiraled up. I swore I saw something move. I lifted my foot up to the first step as quietly as I could and slowly began to ascend the stairs. About halfway up, I was certain there was someone else in there with me, but I couldn't tell if they were ahead of me or behind me. I stopped for a minute to listen, but I think they stopped each time I did. All I could hear was faint breathing, and I was sure it wasn't my own. Stairwells are dark, creepy, and claustrophobic, especially when you could have someone a flight above you or a flight below. Panic seized me, and I held my breath so long that I thought my lungs were going to burst, and all I could think about was getting out of there.

  I raced up, three, four stairs at a time, and threw myself against the exit door on the sixth floor.

  I tumbled forward and knocked over a coffee table, which sent plants and magazines spilling out onto the floor. I looked up and saw the entire waiting room staring at me. The receptionist stared at me, horrified, her ear to the phone.

  "Uh," I said. "My friend left her purse."

  It wasn't much hassle to get the purse back. The receptionist handed it to me without asking a single question. The guy with the bouffant wig was still there. He didn't bother to look up. To leave, I took the elevator. I kept an eye on the stairwell as I exited the building.

  The street was empty, and the parking lot across the street was full of cars, but no people. I crossed the street and crouched down to look under the cars.

  The coast was clear. I didn't see any feet, so I got up and headed toward Scarlett's car. I didn't like walking around in public with her purse. I tried to hide it under my arm, but there was just no way to look manly with it. I hurried to her SUV.

  I stuck the key in the lock and whipped my head around. I was sure I heard footsteps this time. I thought about jumping into the car and fumbling with the keys in the ignition, like a stupid victim from a bad slasher movie. Then I stopped. I got out of the car and shouted into the parking lot.

  "What is your problem?"

  I heard the flutter of a cape, and turned around. Maybe I saw a corner of fabric flow and disappear around a Subaru. For the first time I wasn't scared. I didn't care who was following me. I felt tired and empty, and sort of hungry. I wish I'd kept a biscuit for me.

  Things had to change. Time for me to start taking control of my own life. I got in the car and drove.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Ruth pulled me aside. "There's been another murder."

  The press was waiting inside the League headquarters press room. The meeting hall was packed with reporters and news cameras.

  "Who are all these people?" I asked.

  "Justice called a press conference. We've been trying to get hold of you since you left."

  "Is Scarlett back?"

  "No," Ruth said. "But listen to me. There's something you should know—"

  Larry interrupted her. "Did Ruth tell you yet? Isn't it exciting?"

  Isn't what exciting? I looked at Ruth. She hadn't told me anything.

  "We caught the murderer!" Larry wheezed with overexcite-ment and asthma. "Can you believe it—us?"

  The Galaxy Twins strutted past, and Galaxy Girl threw us a distinct "Hmph" over her shoulder.

  "Those jerks always laughed at me." Larry ratcheted his voice up a few decibels so they could hear. "Didn't think we could do anything. Yeah, well, who's laughing now?"

  I was confused.

  "Who was murdered?"

  Ruth pulled me aside again. "The Spectrum," she said. "Justice said the Spectrum had found something last night during the autopsy on King of the Sea, but he wasn't exactly sure what it meant. They found his body this morning in the color lab. Listen, that's not the important part—"

  "Thorn, can I talk to you?" I looked up at Golden Boy, who was stone-faced, utterly serious. He pulled me aside by the shoulder with more force than necessary. I looked down at his hand on my shoulder.

  "Where's Scarlett?" he said. His thumb pressed into my bicep. "Where is she?"

  I looked over at Ruth and hoped she would rescue me.

  "This is serious, Thom." I turned to leave, but he grabbed me by the shoulders.

  "Get your hands off me." I was fed up with being pushed around.

  "Where were you two today?" He was losing it. I'd never seen him unravel like this. "Where were you two yesterday?"

  He was interrogating me. I knew where he was going with this.

  "You have to tell me, because I know she won't." His eyes grew red. "Tell me!"

  I squinted and looked at him to make sure I had this right. He thought that Scarlett and I—me, the guy with a thing for cowboys and Uberman—were doing something we shouldn't have been doing behind his back. Then his rigid posture melted and his shoulders slumped. "If you two have something going on, just say it."

  He had no idea. He didn't know a thing about what was really going on.

  Then he grabbed me by the collar and stared at me with fierce eyes. "Okay, that's total bullshit," he said. "You tell her I won't give her up, certainly not to you. I'll fight for her. You hear me?"

  Then a strong, tanned hand thrust a powder puff between us.

  "Justice wants you on camera with the whole team," Uberman said, and nodded at the puff. "Here, you don't want to look too shiny."

  Golden Boy and I looked up at him, and Uberman saw the red in Golden Boy's eyes. He disappeared for an instant, and then he was back with a tiny bottle of Visine.

  "Allergies," Uberman said, loud enough for the reporters to hear. Then he leaned in and whispered, "We're all sad about it. It's okay to cry." He put his arm around both of us. "Thanks to you, there won't be any more tears." I held the powder puff in my hand, not really sure what to do with it.

  "I'll help him with that." Ruth barged in and yanked me aside.

  "Listen, just shut up for a minute and hear me out." She dabbed my face with the puff. "I've been trying to tell you since you got here, I saw something, just a quick glimpse forward, but it was clear. I think you know something. You're about to discover it, and it's something only you will know." She glanced down at her watch. "In a few minutes, it's about to happen." She smacked her watch a few times and shook it. "Or maybe it already did, damn this old thing."

  "What's about to happen?" I asked.

  "Christ, kid, I don't know. What am I, psychic? Just keep your eyes peeled."

  Uberman escorted us to the podium, and I walked in a daze. Under normal circumstances, my entire body would have lit up the minute Uberman's perfectly toned arm met my perfectly willing shoulder, but this whole scenario was too strange. The world had suddenly flipped upside down and all around, and I couldn't think straight. I wondered about Ruth's warning, and if I'd already seen whatever it was and just didn't know it yet. I kept my eyes peeled, trying to get a clear shot of every face in the crowd as Uberman parted the sea of reporters and mourning teammates.

  Justice descended from the sky. The cameras rolled and flashed and snapped. A hushed silence overcame the audience. Justice raised his head and addressed the room.

  "I'm sorry to see everyone on such a tragic occasion." As Justice spoke, I huddled
in line next to the rest of my squad. We stood behind Justice, so the lights from the cameras cast a harsh glare on us. The lights blinded me and the glare shot a sharp pain through my temples. No matter how hard I squinted, I couldn't see out into the crowd. I leaned a little to the left to hide my eyes behind Justice's shadow. "I think it's important to let everyone know that the Spectrum died a hero, and his death will not be in vain." He moved slightly to the right, and the light hit my eyes again. "Behind me you will see our newest group of recruits. These are the brave souls who apprehended the vicious criminal responsible for these heinous acts of vengeance on our greatest heroes."

  As Justice droned on, I gave up trying to scan the crowd for something that I didn't even know I was looking for, and my mind drifted. Standing up onstage with those spotlights on us made me feel exposed. I tried to think of dark, soothing things to shield me from the lights, and my brain filled with images of black capes making shadows in the night. The images felt peaceful and cool.

  I was sweating from the lights, so I bent my knees slightly to keep the circulation going in my legs. I didn't want to pass out in front of everybody.

  My mind leaped forward in a stream of thoughts, and soon the capes swept away the darkness, and there stood Goran, basketball at his hip. Suddenly I knew for certain why it bothered me so much when he'd said he had a girlfriend, and it wasn't a thought I wanted to hold on to right then, with everything else going on. I tried to think of something else.

  I had to clear my head, keep focused. So I thought about Scarlett.

  I pictured her jacket. How she must have struggled those first few days with the colostomy bag, staring down at the hole in her belly, connected to a pouch of sterile plastic. How she'd probably stayed up all night trying to think of an outfit that would hide it properly. Looking at herself in the mirror, crying. Forgetting about it momentarily, only to look down at her belly and to be reminded that a synthetic leech had attached itself to her and wouldn't let go.

  "Allow me to introduce you to the killer," Justice continued.

  I snapped out of my daydream when I saw Justice gesture toward a curtain off to the side, which lifted to reveal Ssnake, via satellite, in the League's containment facility. He sat in a chair, his head hung low, a curly mop of messy blond hair. He reminded me more of one of those hostages you see in the Middle East than a supercriminal. I couldn't even tell if his eyes were open underneath his mask.

  The cameras went wild, hundreds of hands shot in the air, and the reporters buzzed with questions. I took a step back and ducked behind Justice's shadow again.

  "I won't be taking any questions today, but I will indulge you with one answer." Justice levitated a few more inches above ground. I couldn't tell if it was deliberate or if he was just getting worked up. "We will reveal the identity of the killer. There will be no more hiding today. Silver Bullet, if you would, please." He nodded to Silver Bullet, who disappeared in a shiny blur and reappeared next to Ssnake on the monitor.

  Silver Bullet tore off Ssnake's mask, and ice shot through my body.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen of the world, allow me to introduce you to the killer—Ssnake—Simon Hess." Silver Bullet lifted the man's face to camera level by tugging back on his pale blond hair. I recognized him immediately, even with all the bruises How could I forget the face of the man who gave me my first kiss?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE FIRST THOUGHT that runs through your head at these critical junctures in life is usually neither logical nor wise. In this case, all I could think about was that he'd actually told me his real name. I had lied and told him my name was John that rainy, wet night in the church parking lot.

  After that shame passed, a new one overwhelmed me. I felt worse than I'd ever felt in my life. On the one hand, I was scared to death that Ssnake would recognize me and talk. Guilt rolled through me and gained the momentum of an avalanche. He'd go down swinging, I'd be outed, and they'd kick me out of the League faster than I could say homo.

  Belonging to this group was the only good thing in my life, and I was about to lose it all. My father would disown me, I'd be reviled by everyone I ever knew—forever linked to the notorious hero killer. The muscles in my legs shook, and I prayed I wouldn't pass out. The camera lights were cooking me up on that stage, and I desperately wanted to run off somewhere cool to get a glass of water.

  Then again, maybe he wouldn't say anything. Maybe if I just avoided him. After all, it was my first kiss, not his. It couldn't have meant as much to him, and therefore there was a good chance he'd never connect my face to the goofy, nervous kid with the dry mouth in the church parking lot. Maybe all I had to do was wait this out. Keep quiet and it would all go away. Heck, he was an accused killer. Maybe he really did it. And if he didn't actually do this crime, surely there were other reprehensible acts in his past.

  I was starting to breathe easy again.

  The crowd went nuts with questions. Justice raised his hands to silence them. "Because of the nature of his alleged crimes and his threat to public safety, Ssnake will await trial in our containment facility, where we can safely keep him."

  Ruth slipped beside me and gave me a nudge.

  "You're white as a ghost. See anything yet?"

  I couldn't breathe again. An idea was forming in my head, a seed sprouting tendrils that bored into my whole body, and suddenly I was terrified to move or do or say anything.

  "Well, what is it?" Ruth whispered in my ear.

  I couldn't think straight. Was this the big surprise, or was there something more?

  Finally I blocked all my problems out of my head and thought about it clinically, logically, without emotion. I focused on Ssnake. Something wasn't right. Okay, so the guy I happened to have my first kiss with turned out to be the worst villain in the universe. Big deal. There was more at work here, and I needed to pull my head out of my ass if I was going to see it.

  "That will be all for today." Justice wrapped things up at the podium. "I can assure you of this: these murders will not go unavenged."

  I didn't like the way that last word sounded. Unavenged. A promise. I saw Warrior Woman grip her sword handle at her side and slide her hand down its sheath.

  That couldn't mean anything good for Ssnake. What about, I don't know, a fair trial? Maybe it wouldn't be one of the heroes in this room to exact revenge, but someone would. Maybe it would be a convenient accident when he was transferred from the containment facility to the prison facility. Maybe they'd blame it on a disgruntled former colleague, frame Snaggletooth for it. Who would doubt it? I couldn't see the future, that was Ruth's department, but in my heart I knew that someone somewhere would make this man pay for assassinating two of our world's finest heroes, whether he'd actually done it or not.

  Ruth's watch had stopped again, and I saw her smacking it as she tried to get it going. I stared at the watch, and that's when I realized what it was that didn't add up. The timing.

  He couldn't have done it. I was with him the night King of the Sea was murdered. But then the horror sank in. What was I going to do with this information?

  Telling the truth, the whole truth . . . could I do that? What if I pulled Justice aside? I'd be risking everything I ever worked for. They'd kick me off the team for sure. Jeez, what the hell would Uberman think of me? My team? Golden Boy already hated me, but did I need the rest of the League to hate me too? This would change my whole life forever. There would be no turning back.

  And then the horror turned to something worse. Pure panic.

  What would my father think?

  I looked over at Ruth, hoping she'd seen the future and could tell me what to do next. I held up my hands to shield the light, and closed me eyes. I wasn't going to turn to anyone else. This was all up to me.

  Once in a while, life gives you a chance to measure your worth. Sometimes you're called upon to make a split-second decision to do the right thing, defining which way your life will go. These are the decisions that make you who you are.


  I felt a surge of energy well up from my feet, through my heart, to my head. I willed myself to take one step forward. That first step was the hardest. I felt like my feet were glued to the floor. But after that first step, I walked with a little more assurance, and the next thing I knew I was at the podium next to Justice.

  I grabbed the microphone.

  "I'm sorry," I said into the microphone. "But you have the wrong man."

  Stunned silence as I looked out into the audience, the heat of the lights bearing down on me.

  "It couldn't have been Mr. Hess, at least not for the King of the Sea murder. I know it for a fact—" I paused and felt the heat of the lights bearing down on me. I knew this was the moment my life would take a turn forever. I pushed thoughts of everyone else out of my head—the League, my teammates, Goran, my mother . . . Dad—and I took the plunge. "Because I was with him that night."

  A tidal wave of response from the press hit me. If they'd been wild with activity before, this was a full-on feeding frenzy.

  Silver Bullet whisked me away into the pantry before I could open my mouth to respond. He looked at me like I'd been possessed by Dr. Psycho. He scooted a metal chair underneath me; the chair knocked the back of my knees and I collapsed in the seat.

  Warrior Woman appeared moments later.

  "That little stunt is going to cost you," she said, and reached for the golden scepter fastened to her belt.

  Silver Bullet stopped her from raising the scepter.

  "What the hell was that?" he said.

  I knew they didn't want to hear it, but I was just telling the truth. They did have the wrong guy, and I couldn't let him suffer for something he didn't do. Besides, it meant the real culprit was still out there. Didn't they care about that?

  By now, the rest of the League was crowding into the pantry. Arms folded, they stared at me from below the shelves of cereals and canned goods. Warrior Woman scowled at me beside a can of chunky soup.

  "What I'm asking is what did you mean by that? What do you mean You were with him that night}" Silver Bullet demanded. But these were rhetorical questions. They all knew exactly what I'd meant. In fact, their minds had already taken it much further than the botched kiss it actually was. But to protest their assumptions would only make it look like I'd done more than I really had, so I decided to keep my mouth shut about the details.