Isn't It Past Your Bedtime

by J L Ender

  Steel Fox Investigations

  Isn’t it Past Your Bedtime?

  By J.L. Ender

  For Callison,

  my friend, sister, and loyal alpha reader,

  without whom this book would not exist

  Special thanks to SCE Swayne.

  This book would have existed without you,

  but there would have been a lot more typos

  Copyright © 2020 J.L. Ender

  Enderfire Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This story is a work of fiction.

  Any similarities to persons living or dead is a coincidence.

  If you needed me to tell you that, you should probably put

  this book down, go outside, and get some fresh air.

  Editing by Gen Gavel

  Additional Edits and Proofreading by SCE Swayne

  Cover Art by Lauren Leibold (laurenleiboldart.com)

  For more on J.L. Ender:

  Leuke.net

  Instagram.com/leuke0

  Amazon Author Page

  Chapter 1

  Insomniac.

  That’s the word for people who can’t sleep. So is insomnolence, which is kind of fun to say. Whatever you want to call it, that was me lately. Sleepless. Exhausted as I was, I knew I shouldn’t have been going out. I knew that, and yet I felt drawn to the streets, into a world I could never be a part of. For the last fifteen years, kids were sometimes— seemingly at random— born with superpowers.

  I was not one of them.

  My mom was working late again. I lay on top of my covers, staring at old glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. They’d faded a long time ago, but my dad and I had stuck them up together, and I’d never had the heart to take them down. The apartment shook as a train rattled by. Right on time. I hopped out of bed, grabbing my hat and a pair of goggles. The one o’clock train— always two minutes late— coincided with the night watchman’s coffee break.

  I crept through the apartment, past my little sister’s door. She had been asleep for hours. The door was open just a crack. I peeked inside. Even at night, her room looked cheerful with pink polka dot walls and an array of stuffed animals standing guard on a shelf over her bed.

  I eased out our front door and into the hallway. Thick, musty carpet muffled my steps as I walked toward our decrepit old elevator, which trembled and sighed as it took me down to the apartment lobby. Sure enough, the desk was empty. The guard would be in the kitchen for just a few minutes, but it was long enough for me to slip out. I walked outside and breathed in the fresh air of a Leifsville night. Well, mostly fresh. There was definitely a little smog in there.

  I had heard the famous speedster Iron Wraith liked to patrol south of downtown, so I made my way down Fourth Street, hoping I would run into the superhero. I jogged down the street, praying no one would notice me. For the night’s sneaky work, I’d chosen black sweats and a black ski mask. I kept my ski mask rolled up like a beanie, ready to be rolled down to hide my face. I had to keep my own identity secret too, even if I wasn’t a superhero. I didn’t want to get in trouble or worry my mom.

  “Insomniac sounds a lot like ‘it’s a maniac’,” I mumbled to myself as I moved through the shadows.

  What I really wanted was to find a battle. I know, I know. Crazy. But there was something about superpowered people. They fascinated me. I felt like I should be out there too. Like I should be fighting crime and stopping bad guys.

  Some of the superpowered were good, some were evil… and all of them were children. That was part of the reason I went out so often. Kids my age made me nervous. All these children blessed with impossible powers, running around doing whatever they want. What could I do to stop them, if someone came after my mom or my little sister?

  I followed Fourth Street until it led me deep into the heart of downtown. Glimmering skyscrapers loomed above orange and red brick apartment buildings. Crime was down lately, but not gone. Adults were still struggling with the fact that a child could arrive out of nowhere to thwart their criminal plans.

  I wasn’t here to watch a prevented purse snatching though, or to see a cat lifted from a tree.

  I was here to watch heroes and villains fight, and to learn what I could.

  The street was quiet, but not empty. A few other people walked the sidewalk, and cars buzzed by every few minutes. I got stares from a group of tough-looking teenage boys, but they kept walking. The younger you looked, the safer you were these days. No one wanted to mess with a kid that might have laser vision or freeze breath or toxic burps.

  Flashing lights. That was the ticket. The police were still at work protecting the city like old-fashioned superheroes. When I followed them, I could usually find trouble.

  Now, I don’t recommend any of this. I was crazy to sneak out at night with no powers, and even crazier to go where the cops were going. Maniac, remember? And so far, an unsuccessful maniac. I’d seen a speedster— maybe the Iron Wraith— blur past me once. I'd seen someone wearing blue flying really high at least three times— maybe the Bluejay? And I’d seen some kid in yellow spandex throwing up into a trash can, but I had no idea whether they’d been a superhero or just kind of gross.

  I had to roam the streets for about half of forever before I finally saw what I was after. Sirens blared from two blocks down. The flashing red and blue lights lit up the alley running between blocks as a police cruiser squealed down Fifth Street.

  Heart pounding in my chest, I felt a mix of excitement and dread. I didn’t hesitate, though. I just followed the lights.

  A jewelry store was being robbed. The windows were broken. Shattered glass reflected the steady streetlight glow. Seven of the police cars were fanned out at the edge of the sidewalk. Eleven men and three women stood there, using their vehicles for cover. Eleven men and three women, all with guns drawn.

  A jewelry store? I didn't expect much of a battle here, even if Iron Wraith did bother to show up. I wavered on the edge of disappointment, but wasn’t quite ready to turn and go home. Whatever was happening was sure to be interesting, heroes or no. I decided to stay and watch the excitement. A burly policewoman called for the crook to come out with their hands up.

  I thought I saw something glimmer in the streetlights’ glow, but I couldn’t decide if my bleary eyes were playing tricks on me. One of the policemen suddenly yawned, then dropped to sit against the side of his vehicle, a metal bang resounding as he hit the car’s fender. One by one, each of the cops yawned hugely, then fell asleep. The clatter of guns hitting the asphalt followed, then something like silence—as quiet as the city ever got.

  Um.

  Huh?

  I crept closer, hiding behind a big, blue mailbox. Someone inside the store was poking around through drawers and display cases. I could hear the crunch as he or she stepped on broken glass. I still needed to go a little further to see anything.

  “Hey, man.”

  I jumped about a mile and a half into the air, but thankfully managed to avoid screaming.

  I turned to find Iron Wraith standing above me, out in the open like he had nothing to hide.

  The boy grinned. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  Chapter 2

  Nothing prepared me for how normal Iron Wraith looked. He was just a kid. He had dark skin, and he was kind of short, maybe an inch or two taller than me. He wore jeans and a T-shirt with the Minecraft pig on it, and black and white Converse. I’d known he would just be a kid... but I guess I'd been expecting a uniform or something.

  Faster than I could think, he was crouched next to me behind the mailbox. The breeze from his moving nearly knocked my hat off.

  “Sorry, did I startle you?” he asked in a loud whisper.

&n
bsp; “You’re—” I began.

  Now he was standing out in the street. This time I had caught a flash of silver, the metallic color that gave the boy his name. His body turned into some kind of metal when he ran.

  “Iron Wraith? Yes.” He appeared on the other side of me again, standing. He spoke at normal volume this time.

  I stuttered. What should I say? I had been sneaking out for weeks in the hopes of running into him. But now—

  Now I had no idea what to do. “Could you—” I didn’t even know what I wanted.

  And it didn’t matter. Iron Wraith was already gone. I adjusted my lopsided hat. I was suddenly very aware the superhero knew exactly what I looked like. I glanced around. No one else nearby had been awake to see the exchange.

  Footsteps crunched broken glass inside the jewelry store. The Wraith was already inside, going after the thief. I moved forward until I was so near I could hear the cops snoring.

  A thump inside the store. A man ran out— a man who was definitely not Iron Wraith. He was older, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He wore a tall, floppy red top hat and a long, dark cloak that hung to his knees.

  “Are you sure about that hat?” With a gulp, I immediately hoped someone else had spoken and not me, because why would a powerless kid like me mock a bad guy about his hat?

  I may have neglected to mention… I have kiiiiind of a big mouth sometimes. My mom tells me I need to work on it. So does the vice principal, my gym coach, three of my teachers, my best friend Tony, and you know what? Never mind.

  “Excuse me?” The young crook stared me down. He was carrying a bulging, partially open duffel bag. Silver jewelry peeked out, catching the glow of the streetlights.

  Silver? I thought. Not gold?

  Shut up and run, the sensible voice in my head ordered. But my maniac side must have been stronger, because I opened my mouth again. “What did you do to Iron Wraith?”

  “Oh, just helped him relax a little,” the teen said, then let out an unflattering giggle. He was wearing a black mask, so I couldn’t see his whole face, but I could tell he had long, straggly peach fuzz for facial hair. He turned to run away.

  There was a rustling from above, and a blue blur hit the street in front of the robber. A boy dressed in a blue costume. He’d come down so hard the asphalt shivered for several seconds after. The kid’s getup made him look like a giant bluebird.

  Or...

  I looked again.

  No.

  A bluejay! The superhero called the Bluejay had just landed in the street. I could hardly believe my luck. He wore a bird mask that covered his entire head. The sleeves on the getup had been crafted to look like wings. They dragged on the ground behind the Bluejay like a cloak.

  Oh, you’re in trouble now, I thought. No one could escape the Bluejay.

  “Why hello there,” the thief said, apparently unconcerned about the arrival of the most fearsome superhero in the city. The Bluejay was indestructible, able to fly, and could shoot lasers from his fists. Laser fists, people. Laser. Fists.

  Both those laser-capable fists suddenly raised into a protective X shape as a silver ball slammed against the hero. Iron Wraith didn't seem to appreciate the Bluejay’s intervention. On the attack, he hit the Bluejay like a cannonball. When that failed, Wraith dropped to the ground, ran up the side of a nearby pizza place, then leapt from a second story balcony and tried again, once more rolling himself into a ball and hitting the Bluejay so hard he was knocked out of the air. The Bluejay landed on his feet.

  “You know this is my territory!” Iron Wraith appeared on the other side of the thief. He stayed a few feet back from the teenage robber, probably wary of being put to sleep again.

  “Then protect it,” the Bluejay rasped in a deep, electronic voice. No one knew what his actual voice sounded like. He cracked his neck, apparently unhurt by the blows he’d received. I was in awe. A normal person— or a brick wall— would have been decimated by hits like that.

  “You recover fast,” the thief said to Iron Wraith. Not a question. “I’ll have to make your next dose a little stronger.” Despite having stopped running, Iron Wraith stayed metal this time.

  “Why don’t you try me on for size?” Bluejay stepped forward, raising his fists.

  “I’ve been looking forward to it.” The thief raised both hands himself, holding one palm-out toward each of the superheroes. A whirl of silver dust flew around their heads. Both of them yawned involuntarily. Iron Wraith turned back to normal and collapsed. Bluejay took two heavy steps forward, then dropped as well. His chin gouged yet another pothole into the street.

  The teenager grinned and turned to make good on his escape, apparently satisfied. He had forgotten about me. I’d been so wrapped up, I’d almost forgotten I was there myself.

  “Hold it!” I called.

  Hey words, crawl back inside my throat, please. What was I thinking? I was just going to wind up asleep like the others. Or worse.

  The young man turned. He studied me.

  Crud. My face! I put a hand up to pull down my ski mask, but it was too late. I felt a sudden twinge as my stomach tightened.

  “Who might you be?” the thief asked. “New kid on the block?” He clucked his tongue and glanced back and forth briefly between Iron Wraith and Bluejay. “These two, very territorial. Won’t like a new kid on the block horning in, no they won’t. Anyway, sleep tight.”

  He raised a hand toward me and blew more of that silvery dust my way. I raised my hands by instinct, for all the good that would do, and braced myself to lapse into unconsciousness.

  And…

  Nope. Nothing happened.

  Stunned, I watched as the thief's facial expression moved from smug expectation to confusion, to shock, and then finally to something like terror, in almost comical slow motion. I would have laughed were I not so surprised myself. I was immune to whatever he had done to everyone else. Or at least, immunity of some kind was my best guess. This wasn't a superpower. This was something different. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I felt it deep in my bones.

  Police sirens cut through the quiet that had overtaken the streets. The flash of red and blue lights reflected off skyscrapers down the broad downtown streets.

  The thief frowned. “Fine. Take it.” He dropped the bag of stolen goods. It landed with a loud jangle. “I got what I needed tonight, anyway.” A pinch of his prior smugness crept back as he spoke. The thief winked and took off, hurtling down a narrow alley between the jewelry store and a Mexican restaurant.

  A small crowd had gathered some ways back, near where I’d been hiding behind the mailbox. They clapped and cheered as the thief took off. I took in the scene. The sleeping superheroes, the equally unconscious cops, the fallen bag of stolen silver.

  The crowd was clapping… for me.

  That’s how I— a boy with no powers or special abilities at all— got started on the path to becoming a superhero.

  Chapter 3

  I stumbled my way into school the next morning, exhausted. I was used to being tired, insomnia and all, but I’d lain awake for hours, mind racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about the people clapping, the thief running away, the short battle between Bluejay and Iron Wraith.

  So I was less than ready for math class. And that frustrated me because I preferred to be alert for my classes. I know not everyone enjoys school, but I loved it. I especially liked to read. I found myself wishing for a cup of coffee. Or two. I still wasn't allowed any, though. My mom wouldn't let me, so I didn’t even know what the stuff tasted like. I just knew I loved the smell, and Mom always seemed so much more alert when she drank her morning coffee.

  Tired as I was, I looked forward to talking to my best friend Tony about last night. I couldn’t wait to tell him the whole story.

  “Hey, Fox,” Tony said as I slipped into my chair next to him. Short and stocky with sandy brown hair, Tony had been my best bud for years. We had first period math together, and usually showed up a few minutes early so we could chat. There
were only a few other kids in the room.

  “Hey, man.” I drummed my hands on my desk. “You’ll never believe what—”

  A strong gust swept through the room. Papers flew off several desks, posters flapped on the walls, and my short hair was ruffled.

  “What the—” Tony began.

  A boy was sitting across from me. I’d never even seen the door open.

  Iron Wraith.

  “Hey man.” He gnawed off a chunk of some fruit snack, acting like everything was totally natural. No one made superheroes go to school. They got as much or as little education as they wanted. That never seemed like a good system to me. Who wants to be rescued from danger by someone who doesn’t know their multiplication tables?