The Xtra- Volume One

by Oliver Willis

  The brown and grey geyser flies up dozens of feet, raining small bits of debris on the playground. Some of the children have small particles of dust and stone fall on top of their hair.

  Before they can react, the hole where the playground floor used to be erupts again, but this time it vomits up the immense reptilian creature.

  Danmoc.

  The children have only seen such a being in their worst nightmares. One boy immediately defecates in his pants.

  The teachers aren't much better. One begins to weep while another stands with his jaw simply hanging from the rest of his face in shock.

  Then a little girl begins to scream. It is deafening, occurring at a high frequency and almost loud enough to pierce an eardrum. The scream drones on at one steady pace, like a supernatural whistle of some perverse sort.

  The scream is the guttural instinct of a threatened child, who is completely unequipped to deal with the nightmare horror that has just invaded her play space, which she once thought of as "safe."

  It is not. The space has been violated.

  Danmoc is unfazed by the scream as he whips his large head back and forth to survey the playground. It does not dwell on the past but it has been a haze.

  The man, whose face he had been instinctually taught to worship. The drugs coursing through his body and leading to sleep. Flashes of being half-awake, half-asleep in a smaller version of the tank that was its home. Waking up in yet another unfamiliar venue, confused at first but then comforted by seeing the man again.

  Danmoc could not explain it because he didn't have the vocabulary or the ability to reason, but the man's face made his entire hulking body feel calm. It was like being fed in the tank but with even more of a blissful feeling enveloping his entire body.

  The man had yelled commands at him. He didn't understand. But he also understood. It was a compulsion from deep inside his small brain.

  The man wanted something. Danmoc had to please the man. This sentiment overwhelmed every fiber of his being. Nothing else was of consequence.

  Then the man had held up pictures. Small ones, like the children screaming and crying around him. Meat.

  Another picture. A woman, like the scientist who he had often seen outside his home tank, but younger, brown skin. Meat.

  More pictures of the children. Meat. The woman. Meat. Children. Meat. Woman. Meat.

  The images flashed through his brain long after the man stopped actively showing them to him. He knew that consuming this meat, this new meat he had been shown, would make the man happy. It would also please him. Completing this would lead to bliss, and Danmoc now wanted that sensation more than anything in the world.

  When the man had transported him to the sewer access point, he had been docile, following the man around – he heard the word "Blanc" but had no idea what it meant – like a childhood pet. Then he had stepped into the sewer, and right away he knew that the meat he had been promised was nearby.

  He didn't know how he knew; it was just in his head. He would have no idea of the advanced technology that Madden Blanc was using to steer him to Ezekiel Elementary or the children who were to be his prey. It doesn't matter if Danmoc doesn't understand. He is at this moment because it is where his lab-grown instincts and manipulated brain have said he should be.

  It is that simple.

  He roars and it is a thunderous sound, an unholy hybrid of a lion combined with the hiss of a python. The children, who have no context for this threat, no vast store of knowledge to compare the animal to, the message is clear: Danger.

  "Children, come," one teacher screams, desperate to get them out of the way of the frightening abomination.

  While there is usually some reticence to follow their elders' commands, that doesn't happen today. The children respond, running at her, tag long forgotten.

  Meat, meat, meat, Danmoc thinks, the mantra endlessly echoing through his brain. He had to get the meat. To feel good. To get that euphoric feeling running through its veins.

  He bends forward and rakes his claws through the dirt, kicking up medium-sized clouds of grey matter. Ready to pounce. Ready to strike.

  Meat. Meat.

  Danmoc opens his mouth and his long white fangs gleam in the Washington sunlight. His thick pink tongue darts from inside, lashing against his green, scaly cheeks. Saliva spills from his mouth, splattering everywhere.

  The creature is in a frenzy. The children are running.

  It sees meat and is ready to consume.

  Chapter 71

  I want to hit something, I'm so angry. Instead I'm flying away from the apartment as quickly as I can. Taylor's being ridiculous.

  We fought with each other all the way home from the meeting with the editorial board. For once I thought she'd be proud of me for taking some of the advice she's given me over the years. Be confident. Proud. Cocky.

  "You acted like an ass," she said instead.

  "You're the one who's always telling me to stand up for myself. 'Don't let them walk all over you' you say."

  "Yes, but—"

  "But nothing. I did what you said and now you're pouting about it."

  "Because you acted like an ass. I want you to stand up."

  "Right."

  "But this is different."

  I shook my head dismissively.

  "It is," she insisted. "I know you. I know where you come from. That wasn't Wallace Logan's daughter talking in there. That's some arrogant ass who thinks because she's bulletproof she can treat people like garbage."

  "It's like that?"

  "It is."

  We were silent for the rest of the day. I got tired of the tension from the silence, so I bounced without saying a word to her.

  Now I'm just flying without any destination in mind. The sound barrier keeps popping as I speed through and I don't even care if I'm flying too low.

  If it bugs them, too bad. I'm their protector. Pay the price.

  It just feels like it’s time to turn the page. I'm comfortable in my own skin, and why should I care how it comes across in the paper? They'll come around, I'm sure.

  This stuff is so easy now. Nobody can do what I can. Nobody. And they all know it.

  My phone buzzes and I feel it vibrate from the clip attached to my waist. I think about ignoring it.

  Just leave me alone.

  I look down to it and I see that it's Taylor. I sigh. I steel myself for the inevitable argument to follow. I won't give in to her. I'm standing my ground. I need to put her in her place and let her know that I won't be moved this time.

  My time.

  "Hello."

  I can hear from her first word that this isn't an argument phone call.

  "Carla. Ezekiel Elementary. You have to go. Quick. Those children. My God."

  I turn on the speed. We'll deal with this other problem soon.

  Another little mess to clean up. No big.

  ###

  As I close in on the school, I don't see anything too out of the ordinary from my current altitude. It isn't like Taylor to send me on a wild goose chase, even if she's upset.

  I can't believe…

  But then I see it.

  My heart skips. I don't believe my eyes. I blink once, then twice. But it's real.

  In the middle of the schoolyard stands a gigantic lizard creature. Thick green scales. Giant jaws with teeth so large and white I can see it from the air. It even has a thick, gnarled tail that whips from side to side as the animal emits an otherworldly growl.

  Then I see the kids standing just a few feet away, frozen in terror.

  I'm the Xtra. Time to save the day like I always do.

  I fly down to the ground and land with a loud thud, between the animal and a little girl.

  The animal stares at me through its small, narrow eyes. There doesn't seem to be much light on upstairs as it considers my shape. It is a predator on the hunt and I am between it and its prey.

  It growls again and I feel the hot, damp breath blow against me. It smells
like the swamp.

  "Leave them alone," I say, sounding braver than I feel.

  The creature growls some more and crouches down. It sticks out its arms and I can see that its claws are razor-sharp.

  But not even bullets can hurt me.

  I don't move, showing the beast that its roars mean nothing to me. Even if it isn't capable of complex thoughts, my body language should be clear enough: I'm not afraid.

  I turn quickly to the girl. Her face is a shiny mess from all of her tears. She is in shock and looks to have been frozen in place from her paralyzing fear.

  "Go to your teacher, honey," I tell her, trying to make my voice sound softer while also not ceding ground to the beast. "Go on."

  My direct address seems to break through and she moves from her spot.

  More growling. It isn't happy to lose its meal.

  Tough. Time to show you who’s the boss around here.

  I raise my clenched fist to eye level, making sure that he can see it.

  You understand that, don't you? Fist. Face. It's happening. I'm the Xtra.

  Chapter 72

  I fly at him, using my speed to build up momentum. Then I swing my arm and the punch connects with the end of his snout.

  Most of the time nowadays when I punch someone, I can just give them a little love tap. Just a soft rap with my knuckles is more than enough to send the most hostile person into deep sleep.

  But after I hit this reptilian creature I feel the surface of his scales give in just slightly and then… nothing.

  He doesn't move. He isn't reeling. He doesn't even make a sound.

  But I'm The Xtra?

  I get into a boxing stance, raising both fists to my midsection. I jab the beast with my left, then right, then left again. Each time hitting him against his torso. He makes a few perfunctory grunts, but he takes the hits.

  I'm. The. Xtra.

  His refusal to take the hit feels like another in a growing line of setbacks over the last forty-eight hours I wasn't prepared to deal with.

  I punch him a few more times. This time I increase the speed. I've been teaching myself to control my hitting, to pack as much in a light-to-medium tap as I possibly can. My strength has to be controlled and contained so someone doesn't get hurt.

  But this is different.

  The animal takes a slight step back from the hits, but what would have caved in a brick wall does not seem to seriously phase him.

  I'm the Xtra. It's handled.

  I punch again, letting a little more loose. The punch hits his scales and I see it ripple as the shockwave from the impact moves through him.

  This grunt is a little louder. I got through.

  Time to pour it on. End this.

  I never see it coming.

  The claw moves from his side to across my chest in what seems like the blink of an eye. I feel a stinging pain I have never felt before. The sensation is shocking as I realize how long it's been since I felt physical pain from anything.

  I've been laughing off bullets, ignoring punches that feel like playground tickling, and holding scalding hot cups of coffee for the last few days.

  But now I stagger backward as the burning runs across my chest.

  What the hell is this thing?

  I don't have time to figure out an answer to this when he hits me with another blow, this time from a fist closed like mine. It seems to be mimicking me, even with the boxing-style stance it has taken.

  Ow. Ow. Ow.

  This hurts. I didn't see anything like this coming.

  The animal roars again, then pulls its arms back and lunges at me.

  It hits me with both fists simultaneously and I go flying. I fly dozens of feet backwards through the air, propelled only by the force of his punch.

  I hit a brick wall before I can seriously assess what's going on.

  The material cracks and I fall through, landing on the ground in an empty classroom. I am surrounded by children's desks, lying on top of cut-up pieces of construction paper and kid's glue.

  This can't be happening.

  But it is.

  Somewhere in the building a fire alarm goes off and the buzzing adds to the throbbing I'm already feeling in my head. As if that wasn't bad enough, a few seconds later the sprinkler system comes on in an attempt to douse whatever fire has been detected.

  Water splashes on my face and it mixes with the dust that was already there to feel like an uncomfortable, goopy mess.

  My chest is throbbing in pain from where I was slashed and for the first time in a long time I 'm on the losing end of a fight.

  Guess this isn't as easy as I thought. Stupid.

  Over the sound of the alarm and the sprinklers I hear screaming and yelling. Children.

  That yelling is soon overtaken by the animal's roar and I think about its glistening teeth and the way it looked at that little girl.

  Get up. I have to get up. This thing is out for blood.

  Chapter 73

  I pull myself up, grabbing hold of what is left of the wall. My legs are shaky, and I don't know if it's fear or anger or adrenalin or pain. Probably some grotesque combination of the three.

  Where is it?

  I wipe the muck off my face and walk back out into the playground. I think about how frenzied the animal looked and my pulse quickens as I consider how urgent things are.

  He has to be stopped. I'm The Xtra. I've got it handled.

  I'm trying to reassure myself, but I don't even know if I believe it.

  I'll deal with that later.

  There he is. His back is turned to me and I can see the outline of thick, well-defined muscles underneath his scales. It looks like a roided-out bodybuilder combined with a dragon.

  Figure it out when it's stopped. Right now, just stop it.

  Then I hear a loud cracking noise, like someone took a tree and snapped it in half. The loud crack is followed by other, smaller snaps. I don't know what it is, but my stomach is turning.

  I bound over to the animal and clasp my hands together. I swing them as one unit, landing with a loud "thud" on the creature's back.

  It howls in pain and I allow myself a small smile.

  I can hurt it.

  The animal quickly wheels around and that's when I see it.

  His snout and teeth are wet. Blood drips down from his teeth on to his chin. I can feel his hot breath and as it pants, I can see pieces of cloth impaled on his fangs.

  I don't want to, but I look down. On the ground is what is left of a child. Half-eaten. The other half ingested by this monstrosity.

  Not handled.

  My eyes sting as they fill with tears. I can feel them streaking down my cheeks. Then I see red.

  I look back up at the creature who is now scanning around, looking for more food. One young life was not enough.

  I swing my fist up and land an uppercut on what I assume is his chin. I don't hold back; I don't pull my punch. This hit is loaded with all the anger and disappointment I feel in my soul right now.

  The animal goes flying and lands a few feet away on its back.

  I jump, transitioning into flight at the top of the arc so I go further, then direct myself back to the earth. I'm straddling the monster and I begin pounding my fists against its chest.

  The baby. Dead. Eaten. Killed. Dead.

  Thoughts pound through my head in time to each punch. I feel my fists and arms hitting against its chest.

  Some more. More. More. I keep it up, crying almost hysterically through the whole process.

  Then I feel the animal's skin give way. I've broken through the scale covering. My arms are sticky and wet, covered in blood. It is blue, another way in which this abomination is different from us.

  It kicks me in the stomach, and I go flying. I'm sucking wind trying to catch my breath.

  The creature howls but this time it's different. There is anger and threat, but there's also wailing. In pain.

  I get back up, fists ready. Dad showed me how the old school bo
xers did it and I copy their stance. I see the corpse again and blood spattered on the grass.

  Have to stop it. No more kids.

  I raise my fist and run at him, full speed. It isn't like flying but each time I take a little hop and use my power to propel me forward. By the time I get to him my teeth are gritted and the tears are still flowing. But I don't feel the pain from my wounds anymore. He doesn't get to have that over me, not today.

  The animal seems to understand fear, and the expression on its face reflects that. It isn't used to someone standing up to it. Someone getting in the way of food.

  Me.

  It slashes out again and I pull back, just barely avoiding it. In the blink of an eye, it's slashing again. I time a punch and land my knuckles against the talons. It yelps loudly as the bony protrusion snaps off.

  No more.

  I swing again, connecting with the bottom of its mouth.

  There is a large crackling noise and I quickly realize I now have the upper hand. The creature's jaw goes loose and hangs uncomfortably from its face.

  Blood sprays everywhere.

  The animal howls in loud anguish, screams that are soon muffled by its own blood spewing from its face. It doesn't know how to stop it or understand what is going on. But it obviously understands it is on its last legs.

  I fall to my knees and feel all the aches and pains from across my body at once. Chest. Head. Knees. Everywhere.

  My hands are covered in blood. Mine. The animals. The little boy.

  That poor precious child.

  The creature lets out a weak roar that becomes a whimpering, rattling sound. Dead. I don't care.

  I think about the little boy, his life snuffed out as I flew in, so sure I had things all in hand.

  That baby. That poor, poor baby.

  Chapter 74

  The television anchor furrows his brow, which is nearly impossible thanks to all the years of Botox injections he has had, and the lighting on the set goes down a bit.

  "Gone too soon, Christopher Treadwell. Seven years old."

  Next to him a photo of the young boy appears. A cute little boy, missing his front teeth, smiles for the camera while wearing a baseball uniform and cap, his eyes looking at the photographer. Probably his mom and dad.