Hero

by Perry Moore

  Thank God, I thought to myself. Justice made it here first; of course the entire League was inside under his command, repairing the damage in superhuman time.

  Justice surveyed the crowds beneath him, then looked up into the sky. I couldn't pinpoint where he was looking. It was difficult to see his expression from so far away, but I could read something in his posture, something resigned, almost sad. It reminded me of the night I'd interrupted him while he stared out into space.

  And suddenly the Wilson Memorial was a beehive, and we the people on the streets were the foolish, curious children who'd knocked on it to see if there really were bees inside. Hundreds of heroes came flying out of the building and flew overhead.

  The crowd looked up in awe, and the applause diminished.

  Fantastic colors and capes swarmed high above us and gathered in a single, unified swirl of heroes. Uberman was in front, his proud chest puffed and leading the way. There was something different about the way that he flew, though. He had the same righteously powerful posture, not too graceful, not too rough, but there was something missing in his face. Then it dawned on me: what was missing was his kindness.

  The swirl of heroes changed direction and swooped down on the crowd. The people froze, caught in a single, spectacular, breathtaking moment, the moment their heroes became kamikazes and their city became Pearl Harbor. There wasn't even time to scream.

  Gamma rays, supercold charges, and bio-blasts rained down from the sky and blew holes in the ground around us. I saw a NO PARKING MON/WED/FRI sign vaporized. A goateed man on his Vespa was instantly frozen in a block of ice. A group of tourists dropped to their knees and grabbed their bleeding ears at the howl of a sonic scream.

  "Move!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Move!"

  People scattered and ran helter-skelter, and I saw a few trampled in the stampede to escape. Another wave of heroes was swooping in for the next round of attacks. Victims littered the streets everywhere. I needed to get the crowds to safety.

  Warrior Woman pulverized the entire top floor of an office building and toppled over a giant underwear billboard. The billboard caught on the side of the building, but threatened to fall and flatten a circle of ambulances and emergency medical technicians. I raced to the group and yanked an EMT's hand away from a resuscitator.

  "Tell everyone to hold hands now!"

  She looked at my hand, then at me like I was a nut job.

  "NOW!" I yelled, and looked up at the billboard. She saw the threat and screamed for everyone to take cover by her ambulance. We grabbed each other's hands and joined in a chain right as the billboard dislodged and careened down toward us. I shouted for everyone to hold on tight, and I heated up and sent my power through the chain just as it crashed onto us. Under normal circumstances we would have been crushed to death, but it took only a split second for me to concentrate and make us whole. Still holding hands, we stood up and shot clear through the remains of the billboard. I'd never pulled off anything like that kind of healing before, and I was a little surprised at how simple it had been. I even felt energized by the action. All I had to do was keep my cool and focus. Maybe it really was as simple as my dad said it was. Maybe all you really need to do is believe in yourself.

  I didn't stick around for congratulations, and the EMTs went right back to work on their patients. I had to be extra fast because people were understandably dumbfounded, which made their reaction time slower. They couldn't imagine why their greatest heroes had turned on them. It didn't make any sense to me either, but I had to focus on the task at hand. Rescue. I could think about the rest later.

  Across the street the Galaxy Twins, blank-faced, had cornered an entire waitstaff in the vestibule of their restaurant. The Twins hovered in front of the potential victims and reached out to join hands and ignite.

  God, how I missed my team. If Golden Boy had been there, he would have been on top of the Twins in a second flat, Scarlett would have flown the group to safety, and Larry would have given the Twins a mean case of shingles. Actually, no one would have been in any serious danger in the first place, because Ruth would have spotted the whole thing minutes before it happened.

  But I was alone, and it was up to me to stop the carnage. I tried to break through the chaos to get to the Twins, but there was no way I could make it there before they blasted the restaurant workers to smithereens. The Twins rose up into the air to improve the trajectory of their blasts.

  Suddenly a dark cape materialized out of the shadows of the building behind them. I was just halfway across the street when I saw Dark Hero palm each of their heads like they were two coconuts and smash them together. The Twins spiraled through the air like crumpled paper airplanes and careened down into a Dumpster.

  Dark Hero disappeared into shadows, and I turned and saw Warrior Woman high in the air. She had drawn her sword and was diving down toward a tour guide and a group of school children huddled pitifully with their teacher under a thin, glass bus stop.

  "You get the kids, I'll take that pushy broad."

  Next to me a big, bald bruiser was rolling up his sleeves. It was Ruth's old partner, the Wrecking Ball. I guess there's not much thrill left in robbing banks if the world has been destroyed. We raced toward the bus stop at full speed as Warrior Woman neared her target. Her aegis, full-body armor, and battle helmet reflected the glare of the sun, and she looked more missile than woman. I yelled at the school group to move, to get away from the glass. The Wrecking Ball grabbed a stop sign and yanked it out of the pavement like he was pulling a dandelion out of his garden.

  I pulled the children away from the bus stop at the same moment the Wrecking Ball leaped up onto it. He turned his shoulders, wound up, swung with all his might, and hit Warrior Woman with the stop sign like she was a softball, knocking her out of the park. The sound of the sign connecting with Warrior Woman's armor produced an eerie metallic clang that traveled up my spine.

  The Wrecking Ball hopped down off the bus stop.

  "That'll teach her," he said, and wiped the rust off his hands. "Who's next?"

  I looked around at the tour group. We were standing in the middle of the street. Devastation all around us. A tremor in the ground knocked a few kids off their feet. We were exposed, and I had to get them to safety.

  I wasn't sure where to take them. Hundreds of heroes were attacking in the streets. Hiding them in a building might be our best bet, but I couldn't tell which ones were safe. Blue Lightning blew up a bagel shop. Ethereal Empress evaporated a shoe store. There was so much more, it was difficult to take in all the destruction at once.

  I shielded my eyes to block the sun and looked up once more at the top of the Wilson Memorial building. Justice still hovered in front of the building. Why hadn't he put a stop to the threat inside yet? What could be so insurmountable that even he couldn't stop it? I thought about charging in as soon as I'd helped these kids to safe ground, but what chance did I have of stopping those alien remains from blowing if Justice himself couldn't do anything?

  The tour guide was in a panic. She grabbed the epaulets of my father's costume and tugged at the medals.

  "You have to help us, you have to help us!" I saw the panic in her eyes and recognized her as the same haughty tour guide who'd led me and my mother through the Wilson Memorial days ago.

  My mind turned to thoughts of my mother. What had she done? What was happening in that crystallized alien core? Was this all part of her doing? I hoped she wasn't responsible. I couldn't imagine her falling this far. Instinctively, my hands went to my chest, and I fingered the ring on the necklace she'd given me.

  Justice turned and looked down. He raised his arm and pointed his finger at me. The boom of his voice echoed in my ears as he looked right at me and shouted "Boy!" with anger and disgust on his face. The sound of that accusation chilled me. Every hero stopped when they heard it, and the swarm turned their attention to me. They swooped in our direction from all sides. The kids screamed.

  I saw a shadow appear at
our feet, and it was growing in diameter fast. I didn't stop to look up; I dove to the right.

  The Wrecking Ball was caught underneath the thirteenth floor of the Bascom Accounting Firm building, which Warrior Woman had launched from the next building over.

  I peeled myself up off the ground and saw the kids, their faces drained of all color as they looked at the pile of rubble. All that could be seen of the Wrecking Ball was a hand, its palm still smudged with rust.

  I grabbed as many of the children as I could and started running. I couldn't see a building that wasn't under siege; hell, I couldn't even see a free door. I was about to fumble the small child in my arms when a cowl suddenly whooshed in front of me. Dark Hero lifted the child over his shoulder before I dropped her, and motioned for us to follow him.

  The heroes gathered in a swirling vortex and began to form an attack aimed in our direction. I shouted for the teacher and the tour guide to hurry. The tour guide kicked off her heels so she could run. We sprinted down an alley along the side of a factory building. Dark Hero yanked open a fire exit and directed us to hurry up the stairs. We grabbed the kids and raced up three flights as fast as we could. We burst out onto the fourth floor, and Dark Hero gathered us in the middle of the room and shoved heavy metal file cabinets around us to provide some shielding. The teacher hurried the children into the makeshift bunker and told them all to sit quietly. The tour guide cried hysterically.

  I thought I heard a scraping noise above us, but I assumed it was the building settling under all the duress of the battle outside.

  Dark Hero put his hand over the tour guide's mouth to shut her up. He needed to listen. We all looked up at the ceiling, at the sound of something moving above us, something like claws scraping across a metal floor. Dark Hero rose and walked directly beneath the sound.

  A carved circle of concrete dropped out of the ceiling, and the Badger and the Weasel dropped through the hole and pounced on top of Dark Hero, taking swipes at him with their claws. The kids squealed and clattered to the other side of the room. Dark Hero drew the rodents away from the children and engaged them in hand-to-claw.

  A sudden blast rattled the building. The children screamed, and the floor began to crumble and disappear beneath us. I yelled for everyone to roll with me to the side of the floor that still remained intact. I grabbed a little girl by her tiny arm to stop her from slipping into the abyss. The other children reacted quickly, and no one fell. Another sonic boom rattled the building, and the floor across the room collapsed. Suddenly we were struggling to stay on a tilting plane that sloped directly toward a yawning chasm, a certain plunge to death. The children didn't scream; all of their energy had been spent climbing up to safety.

  There was a little boy who looked like he hadn't changed clothes in a few weeks trying to scramble up the sloping floor, but he was dangerously close to the edge. The tour guide was close enough to help him, but she was frozen with fear. I scooted down closer to him, only a few feet away, and stretched out my leg so he was almost able to reach it. I called out for him to hold on, that I was coming. The building shook again, this time with a heat blast. I felt my eyelashes singe in the heat, but I kept crawling closer and closer to the boy. Dark Hero had his hands full trying to dodge the Weasel and the Badger, all the while keeping them away from the kids, but he managed to throw me the end of his cape, so I could hold on and dangle near the boy. Just a few more feet—I was going to reach him and save him.

  "Thank you!" The teacher cried big grateful tears as the boy reached to grab my foot. "Thank you!"

  Then the center of the floor gave way completely.

  Everyone screamed, and we saw the boy, his eyes big as saucers, disappear in the darkness.

  But something stopped him in midair.

  A massive, sinewy hand grabbed the edge of the floor and pulled a husky frame onto the remaining ledge. Under the rescuer's other arm—which ended in a lump of flesh that could have been a hand—was the little boy, frightened but unharmed.

  Dad.

  "Are you an angel?" the filthy little boy asked my father. He must have thought he was already dead.

  Dad wiped a smudge of dirt off the side of the kid's face and mussed his hair. He lifted the boy up, sat him down safely next to me, and in the next second my father was upon the Badger and the Weasel.

  The Weasel gnashed his razor-sharp teeth at him. Dad picked up the Badger and threw him at the Weasel, knocking them both to the floor. They never had a chance to get up. Dad grabbed each by the foot and tossed them into the hole. I counted to five before we heard their bodies smack the bottom.

  Dark Hero motioned for us to follow him. Dad picked up the tour guide, helped the teacher to her feet, and we led all the kids toward Dark Hero, who had found an emergency fire door leading to a metal walkway that connected with the building next door.

  I wanted to stop and catch my breath, but Dark Hero kept urging us forward. Dad and I each had three kids in our arms, and we herded the rest along quickly. Dark Hero led us up a dozen flights of stairs to the roof and began to lower the children over the side, onto the roof of the next building.

  Dad told us to hurry, we had to get the kids across into the next building and out the first-floor exit before the heroes found them. The building was severely damaged, more a husk than a building, really. I hoped it would hold long enough for us to escape. The tour guide didn't want to drop over the wall to the next building, so after all the children were safely on the other side, Dad picked her up, still squealing, and tossed her over into Dark Hero's arms.

  Just then we heard the roar as the building we'd just left collapsed. We turned around to watch the floors crushing down on each other like a petrified stack of pancakes. We didn't wait to see the top floor hit bottom; we disappeared below.

  The power was off, so we hurried in and out of shadows as we poured down the stairwell. It's a good thing missing chunks of walls allowed some light to stream in, because we'd never have been able to see otherwise.

  Dark Hero led us out onto the tenth floor and motioned for us to be quiet. He and Dad listened. Nothing. The silence made my hair stand on end.

  "What the hell is happening?" I asked in a sharp whisper. "Who's doing this?" But I already knew the answer, and so did Dad.

  He looked out of a missing chunk in the wall, and I followed his gaze up to the alien who hovered over the Wilson Memorial.

  Justice.

  Dad rubbed the corners of his eyes like he always did after a bad day at the factory.

  "He always was a real bad penny."

  "I don't get it," I said. "How's he doing this?"

  Dad stared off into the sky, crowded with hundreds of heroes, destroying the city.

  "Mind control." Dad sighed and shook his head. "I hate mind control."

  "How do we fight it?" I laid my hand on a little girl's forehead, and a cut stopped bleeding and sealed.

  "We're fine for now. He's working in large numbers."

  "What if he tries to get in our heads?"

  "Simple," Dad told me. "Don't think like everyone else." He grabbed my wrist. "Let me see your hand."

  "Why?"

  "Where's your ring?"

  I didn't want to tell Dad that it was buried with Ruth. That was none of his business.

  "I don't have it anymore."

  "That's how he does it, I bet. How he controls the League. The rings," Dad said. He was looking up at the sky, watching the "heroes" of the world weave in and out of air currents as they wreaked mass destruction. "It's how he always knows where you are. That's just his style, too. He made a big production out of giving it to you, didn't he?" Dad couldn't hide the disgust on his face. "Like it was some special treasure."

  "Why's he doing this?" I asked.

  "He's going to blow up the world," Dad said, as if it were a simple, obvious truth. "So he can go home."

  I thought about the night I'd caught Justice staring off into space.

  You all smell the same to me.

&
nbsp; "He can't get there on his own—even he doesn't have that kind of power. He needs something big to propel him."

  Dad looked me up and down.

  "Nice outfit."

  Up to that point I'd forgotten that I was wearing his costume. I would have felt less embarrassed if I'd been standing in front of him naked. He stared at the faint outline of the mari-nara stain around the abdomen. The dry cleaners had done a good job, but they weren't miracle workers.

  Dark Hero was crouched near the missing chunk in the wall. He never took his eyes off Justice or the Wilson Memorial. So far we were lucky, no one knew where we were. Yet. I wrapped my hands around two sprained ankles and then cupped my hand around the teacher's shoulder blade. She said she thought she'd broken a rib in the scramble when the floor fell. I did what I could for the pain.

  "Who's your friend?" Dad motioned to Dark Hero.

  "Oh, that's Dark Hero," I said, like I was introducing a new friend I'd brought home from school.

  "Nice to meet you," Dad said, and extended his hand. "I'm a fan of your work." Dark Hero stood up and shook my father's hand. "Very result oriented."

  "So," Dad asked himself, his eyes narrowing, "what are we gonna do here?"

  We were a motley group of leftovers, saddled by potential victims—kids, no less. Simple, I thought, we'll get the kids to safety, take out the hundreds of heroes on our own—surely three of us should be enough—then we can stop Justice from destroying the planet. If we mind the time, we may even be able to make it home in time for dinner.

  In response to Dad's question, Dark Hero made a wringing motion with his hands like he was snapping a neck in two. I assumed he was referring to Justice.

  Dad motioned for us to crouch down on the floor with him. He took a stapler off the ground and used it as a pointer.

  "If Justice is here"—he stood a hole puncher on its side to represent the Wilson Memorial building—"and we're here"— he grabbed a dented pencil sharpener to stand for our building. Then he stopped and rubbed his chin and thought about it for a second. Dark Hero silently pointed out some possible maneuvers.