Diary of a Teenage Superhero

by Darrell Pitt

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’d like to say the following week gets easier.

  It doesn’t.

  There are some improvements. The showers are still three minutes long and we get better at jumping in, scrubbing ourselves raw and climbing out to make room for the next person. We learn to eat less for breakfast, more for lunch and finish with a large dinner. As far as everything else goes, it’s still a nightmare.

  The physical regime is incrementally increased each day. The run is increased by only a few hundred feet, but you know about it. Then there are more sit ups and pushups. Mr. Henderson seems to only know three words – faster, harder and faster.

  Okay, that’s two words, but you get the idea.

  Even the afternoons spent honing our skills become a chore. Every day it gets harder. Every day it’s more demanding. As soon as I master one skill, Mr. Brown gets me to move onto something else.

  After a few days he gets me to start combining my skills. I have to stay in flight, while creating a barrier as I throw invisible balls at a moving target. The whole thing gives me a headache.

  Finally he starts me off on speed and distance trials. He gets me to go straight up as fast and as high as possible. It turns out to be the one single highpoint of the training. He fits me out with a small device that registers height and speed. I have to wear a special suit to keep me warm. In addition, he teaches me a method to continue breathing at high altitudes.

  The first time I do it I err on the side of caution. By the time I return to earth, Brown is waiting for me with a frown on his face.

  “You call that fast?” the Mr. Brown asks. “I want that sound barrier broken, recruit.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  I take flight again and give it all I’ve got. This time I go so high the sky starts to turn an indigo shade of blue. This time when I return to base Mr. Brown is looking at a small hand held data pad.

  “You broke Mach One today,” he informs me. “Tomorrow we’ll try for Mach Two.”

  On the eighth day I stumble into the dinner hall and the catering assistants start the evening ritual of piling food before us. I have to give The Agency credit for one thing. They know how to build a healthy body. I have muscles I never knew existed. I have also learned the gentle art of running without vomiting.

  Hey, that’s a good thing.

  During dinner, Chad keeps on trying to catch my eye. When the catering assistants return to the kitchen he leans across the table to me.

  “We need to talk,” he says.

  “About what?”

  He eyes the kitchen employees suspiciously. “Later.”

  As we leave the hall I make certain I lag behind with Chad. We find a quiet recess leading off one of the corridors. I wonder why he drags me in here until I realize there are no cameras covering this part of the facility. Just about every square inch of The Agency is monitored.

  Even then, he looks around carefully for listening devices.

  “Okay,” he says finally. “I think we can talk.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  He leans close. “It’s about this place. It’s Stalag Thirteen! It’s a nightmare. I’m getting out of here.”

  “You must be joking.” I shake my head. “This place is more secure than Fort Knox. And what about Ebony?”

  “I’m not leaving forever,” he says. “I just need to get out of here for twenty-four hours.”

  “You’re mad,” I tell him.

  “I want you to come too.” His mouth turns into a smile. “I can’t party on my own. There must be a town around here. We can get some booze. Listen to some music.”

  “No way!”

  “What are you? A saint?”

  “I just don’t want to get into trouble!”

  “Get a life!” He pokes me in the chest. “This place is run by aliens and crazy scientists. They’re not in control of our lives. We are.”

  “And what about the poison capsules they inserted into our bodies?”

  “They’re not going to kill us for just blowing off some steam.”

  I turn my back on him. “I’m going to bed.”

  Neither of us speak as we make our way back to the dorm rooms. Dan looks at us curiously.

  “What were you guys talking about?” he asks.

  “Nothing!” Chad snaps.

  We get ready for bed and turn the lights out. At first I lie awake and stare at the ceiling. My eyes stray to the clock. I don’t want Chad to screw everything up for all of us. Despite the hardships of the last week, I know my powers are stronger and more refined by being here than if I had been doing this alone for a year.

  My eyes grow sleepy as I stare at the clock.

  10:00pm.

  Darkness.

  My eyes slowly creak open and I realize it’s still night. This is the first time I’ve woken without the lights snapping to attention since we started here. At first I’m confused. I have no idea what’s going on. Why aren’t I asleep?

  Then I hear the muffled sound of clothing in the dark.

  Chad.

  I climb out of bed and fumble around. I turn on a light. Chad already has his clothing on and is pulling on shoes.

  “Hey amigo,” he says cheerily. “Coming out to play?”

  “You’re insane,” I hiss. “You’re just going to get all of us in trouble.”

  “Are you coming with me or not?”

  I sit on the edge of the bed and stare down at the floor. This is a stupid idea. We need to be getting ready to take on Typhoid. Going out to party is insane. However, there’s a nagging sensation in the back of my brain. I haven’t really taken too kindly to being a prisoner here. The image of Mr. Brown telling me we can have a break when he decides…

  Look, I tell myself. How bad can it be? Even if we get caught we’ll just make light of it and tell them we’ll be good boys from now on. Besides, they need us more than we need them.

  “Okay,” I nod. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Good man!” Chad just about punches the air.

  Dan stirs at that moment and sits up. “I’m showering first.”

  “Go back to sleep,” I say.

  He does. I drag my gear on and we make our way to the door. Chad peeks out. A few seconds later I hear a low crackling sound.

  “Okay,” he enters the passageway. “Follow me.”

  I wonder about the camera. It turns out he’s burnt the wires through from a distance. Shaking my head, I follow him down the hallway. I’m already regretting my decision to follow him. This is stupid. We get to the next cross passage and he repeats the same action.

  “Where to now?” I ask.

  “There are stairs leading up from here,” he says. “They’re the emergency exit.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You think I’m stupid? I checked them earlier.”

  We enter the stairwell and I spy a camera half way up on one of the walls. I grab Chad’s arm.

  “Leave this one for me.”

  The cameras are on a pivot mount. I urge the air to push the camera to point at the wall. We hurry up the stairs. There’s one more camera just before we reach the exit. I deal with this one too. Within minutes we’re pushing on the exit door.

  We step outside into the cool, clear night and look up at the sky. There are a million stars looking back down at us. Chad was an idiot for suggesting this, but I can’t deny I love being out in the open again.

  I take a deep breath and let it out.

  Free at last.

  The wind churns in the trees. Then I realize it’s not the wind. It’s more rhythmic than that. Like a machine. The darkness comes to life with a spotlight stabbing the ground from the sky, blinding both of us.

  I realize it’s attached to a helicopter.

  “Put your hands up!” a voice commands from above. “You are under arrest!”