He closed his mouth and gritted his teeth. He knew what he needed to do first. He needed a new set of clothes. He couldn’t be seen covered in blood when there was an investigation into the apparent massacre going on. After that, he had to come up with a story.
He was terrified of having to lie to the police, but he had no other option. He couldn’t let them find out what he was capable of. There was no telling what would happen to him then. He would have to tell the police that he’d left the party early or something, and that he hadn’t been around when whatever had happened, happened. Once he got that out of the way, he could begin to figure out exactly what had gone down the night before. He doubted anybody else would be able to. He was the only one who knew about people with incredible powers. Well, he and whoever else had them. There was someone else in the city where he lived who had them as well, and when he found out who they were—who had committed this horrendous massacre—they were going to pay. Patrick was sure of it.
A pit grew in his stomach at the thought of someone else having the same powers that he did. If they were capable of committing a massacre of high school students at a party, what else would they be capable of? He had to find out, and fast. There was no telling what they’d do next.
A thought formed in Patrick’s head, a terrifying one that he’d fought hard to keep down, but it had slipped through his defenses and permeated throughout his brain.
What if there’s nobody else?
Patrick closed his eyes tight, concentrating on removing that thought from his consciousness. There was no way he could do something like that. True, he was missing parts of his memory, but there was no way he could have killed everybody at that party. Even if he had been drunk out of his mind, he just knew that there was no way that that could have happened.
But would the police believe that? Of course not. If he were to come forward and they somehow found out about his powers, there was no telling what would happen to him.
No, he knew that his only course of action was to find the other person with the same abilities he had, and make them pay for what they’d done. He wasn’t going to let them just kill his friends and get away with it. They had messed with the wrong person.
One thing at a time, he told himself. First, some fresh clothes.
Discovery
Familiar Faces
Patrick stood in the alley watching the entrance to the clothing store. A late morning breeze blew a styrofoam cup across the road, and the scraping noise it made penetrated the eerie silence. He guessed that news about the massacre had already begun to spread, and most people were at home waiting to hear more. He wondered exactly what the reporters were going to say. How exactly did you report that an entire class had been killed in the woods and that there were cars that had been tossed aside like they were toys?
As he watched the store, waiting for the customer inside to leave so he could run in and grab some clothes, he grew more and more worried. What if the government knew about other people with powers? If he was the only survivor, all the evidence would point to his being the perpetrator and the one with powers. The government would be onto him in no time. Should he stay hidden and let everyone assume he was dead until he was able to find the person who had actually committed the crime? If he did that, once all was said and done, everybody would wonder why he had laid low for such a long time, which would create a whole new set of questions that could possibly lead to the exact same answers: he was the one with the powers.
All these thoughts swirled around inside his mind. Stop it, he told himself. One thing at a time.
Right on cue, the young lady with brunette hair in a ponytail sticking out of her baseball cap exited the store. Patrick exhaled, calming himself. Time to see how fast you really are, he told himself.
He sprinted out of the alley and across the street. The whole world slowed around him. The girl who was just walking out of the store now stood frozen, looking down at her phone mid-stride. Patrick slipped through the still-open door of the shop and went straight for the men’s section. He grabbed a black t-shirt with the phrase Can You Dig It? printed on the front in bold white letters. He wished he’d grabbed something else, but he didn’t have time to peruse the aisles for the most fashionable attire. He wasn’t an expert on his newfound powers, and wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible before something bad happened. He grabbed the rest of his new outfit—jeans, socks, shoes, pack of underwear—and turn to run right back out the door. He couldn’t help but smile at how exhilarating it all felt, dashing in and out of a store in less than a second, new outfit in hand. The person working the counter would have no idea anything was missing until the store decided to do inventory. And when they checked the security cameras, they would find nothing. They could barely capture things moving at normal speed in good quality, so Patrick was sure that there was no way they’d be able to see him moving at such incredible speeds.
He turned to look at the person behind the counter, fascinated by the fact that they were frozen in time while he sped around their store. He almost came to a total stop when he saw who was standing there. Lace Tomlinson was running her fingers through her blonde hair with one hand, and with the other, was in the middle of pulling her phone from her pocket.
She had been at the party the night before.
Patrick forced himself to focus on getting out of the store before thinking about anything else. He couldn’t afford to slip up now, especially if Lace was the other person with powers. He exited the store, running past the girl who had exited earlier, who had barely moved an inch the entire time he was in the store.
He ran across the still-empty street and into the alleyway between a laundromat and a convenience store. There, he slipped his bloodstained clothes off and quickly changed into his fresh clean clothes, being sure to pull all the tags off. He rolled his old clothes and shoes up into a ball, then opened up a nearby dumpster. The smell of rotting trash hit his senses like a freight train. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing he’d smelled all day. All the blood in the woods still won that prize.
He dug around the trash a bit, making sure to put his clothes near the middle where they wouldn’t be seen by whoever threw something away next. He couldn’t take any chances.
Then he jogged to the end of the alley, watching the inside of the store he’d just exited. Lace was leaning up against the counter, swiping through her phone. She didn’t seem to be too torn up by the fact that almost everybody she was friends with had died the night before. She stood there messing with her phone like it was any other slow Saturday at work. Of course she wouldn’t be too beat up if she’s the one who killed them all, Patrick thought.
He reached for the phone in his pocket. He planned to take some notes on the phone, but when he reached his pocket, he remembered that he didn’t have a phone anymore. Damn, still not used to that, he thought.
A realization hit him, one that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought about earlier. If he didn’t have his phone, then his parents wouldn’t be able to call him. Oh, shit. Mom and Dad are probably freaking out right now. A wave of heat washed through his body. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought about them sooner. They were probably in hysterics, not being able to get into contact with him, thinking he was one of the victims.
He knew he needed to get home, and fast. Since Lace had survived the party too, he felt much less nervous about revealing himself as having survived the massacre. Now he wouldn’t be the only suspect, although he knew he was still the only one who could actually do anything about it.
Patrick bolted out of the alleyway and sped down the road, straight toward his home.
No Going Back
Patrick walked down the street toward his house, nervous about what he was going to find when he opened the front door. What was he going to tell his parents? If there were police officers there, what would he tell them? He spent the whole walk up to the house trying to think of a good story.
It felt strange, walking so slo
w. Even though he’d only had his abilities for a short time, he found that he wanted to be running around, getting from place to place in a split second. Walking was way too slow for him now, but he couldn’t risk just appearing in front of his house in case there were people out there. The government had surely already gotten wind of the situation, so it would be only a matter of time before agents who knew everything there was to know about people with these types of abilities would be focusing on Patrick’s town like hawks. He needed to lie as low as possible. There was no telling what kinds of gadgets and devices they had that could detect people with superpowers.
Patrick stopped in his tracks. He was second-guessing revealing himself. He couldn’t afford to draw any attention to himself. He didn’t want government agents to be watching his every move, waiting for him to slip up and use his abilities. Because they had to be watching him, right? He couldn’t imagine he was the first person to ever manifest these types of abilities. He had no idea what to think, no idea what to do. He began to wonder whether or not anybody had actually been in his shoes before.
Get it together, Patrick. Of course you’re not the first, he told himself as he began walking again. Lace was a potential superhuman. She was the only other person he knew who had survived. Of course, she could’ve just left the party early. He could remember seeing her there at some point, but it wasn’t like he’d kept an eye on her the entire time.
Well, it has to be somebody, he told himself. Somebody there had to have powers, and they had to have used them. The crushed and flipped vehicles were definite evidence of that. The more survivors, the more area the government agents had to cover, which meant the more wiggle room Patrick had. Government agents that you don’t even know exist, he told himself. He was getting himself all worked up over a theory.
His hands began to shake in fear. Come on, get it together, he told himself, clenching his hands into fists. He knew he needed to get himself out of his own head. He needed to focus on one thing at a time—and that meant revealing himself to his parents, no matter what.
After a few more minutes, he reached his home. There was no unusual commotion going on on the street outside. No police cruisers, news vans, nothing. Patrick looked over his shoulder at Victoria’s house across the street. It looked the same as it would on any other Saturday afternoon. Her vehicle was sitting in the driveway along with her parents’.
Patrick’s stomach sank and he turned away from the house, unable to look any longer. “Shit,” he said. “Ben.” Sadness and guilt rushed through him in an almost overwhelming fashion. Maybe he left early, he thought, trying to reassure himself. He had no way to be sure, so he did his best to not think about it.
He walked up the sidewalk to his house with absolutely no idea what to expect when he walked inside. He walked to the far right side of the porch and pulled up a red brick that was a bit darker then the rest of the ones that made up the floor of the porch. Underneath it was a spare key. He unlocked the door, then put the key back and covered it with the brick.
He walked inside, where the cool air from the air conditioning blasted him. He almost kicked his shoes off, but stopped himself. He didn’t want his mom asking any questions about where he’d gotten his new shoes. The shirt he was wearing with Can You Dig It? plastered across the front was going to be hard enough to explain.
“What time is it?” he heard his mom ask somewhere off to his right.
He turned, but all he could see was his own reflection staring back at him from the mirror hanging on the foyer wall.
“A little past noon, I think,” he heard his dad say.
Patrick furrowed his brows, unsure of what was going on. He could hear his parents talking in their room on the other side of the wall, as if the wall wasn’t even there. He looked at his reflection, his eyes widening. He pointed to his ears. Superhearing? he mouthed. He couldn’t believe it. What other power was going to manifest itself? Where was it going to end? That thought both excited and terrified him. What if it ended with him popping, just like what had happened in one of his earlier theories about the massacre? He moved that theory up in his mental list, right underneath Other superhuman.
“—just wondering when Patrick’s going to get up,” he heard his mom say, and tuned back into their conversation.
“He went to that party last night. Must’ve gotten in late,” his dad responded.
Patrick’s eyes widened once again. They had no idea what had happened in the woods. As far as they or anybody else knew, Patrick had left the party and had come straight home. This definitely made things less complicated for him.
He heard the television in the living room on his left, which the foyer led directly into. There was no door, just a small wall that he was currently standing behind. He figured Ren was in there watching television, too involved in the show to notice that someone had walked through the door. It was turned up pretty loud, but he had no idea if it was actually loud, or if it was just his newfound superhearing making it seem that way. Either way, Ren would definitely notice if he just walked by and into the large living area in front of him. He was going to have to use his superspeed to run by without being seen.
He hoped that nothing bad would happen, that he wouldn’t accidentally bring the whole house down. He took a deep breath and bolted through the foyer into the living area. He stopped himself before he could slam through the wall into the backyard. He listened, and heard nothing unusual. Nobody had noticed, and the house wasn’t falling down on top of them.
Satisfied and exhilarated, he crossed to the far right side of the room and climbed the stairs as quietly as he could.
Once upstairs and inside his room, he changed into an outfit his family would recognize and not pay attention to. Once his red t-shirt and sweatpants were on, he exited his room and went downstairs as if he’d just woken up.
“Well, you sure did get plenty of sleep last night,” his mom said as Patrick stepped off the final stair. She was standing in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water. She was wearing a pair of leggings and running shoes, and had her hair pulled back. Her phone was in a band on her upper arm.
“Doesn’t feel that way,” Patrick said, trying his best to sound groggy. He crossed the living area and entered the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he saw his mom drinking from her glass. “You going out running?”
“Jogging. I don’t think I could quite handle running just yet,” she said with a small laugh.
“Well, you definitely look the part,” Patrick said, then took a gulp of water.
His dad entered the kitchen from the door that led into the room where Ren was watching television. “Hey, you have a good time at the party last night?”
Patrick nodded. “Not too good, of course,” he said with a smile. His parents had always been very cool and open with him, mostly because he never lied to them. They were okay with him going to parties, since they believed him when he said he’d be responsible—and he was. No harm, no foul. Plus he was eighteen, and there wasn’t much they could do to stop him even if they wanted to.
Ren came running into the kitchen, right up to Patrick. “Come watch with me! It’s so funny!”
“What are we watching?” Patrick asked as he walked across the kitchen and into the TV room, eager to leave his parents’ questions about his night behind.
“It’s—why is there two men outside?”
Patrick’s head whipped up. He looked out the window into his front yard and saw a car parked out there with two men in suits emerging from inside.
“What’s going on?” Patrick’s dad asked as he and Patrick’s mom entered the room behind Patrick.
“I don’t know,” Patrick said, his heart rate increasing. “They just pulled up.” His mind raced. They knew! He didn’t know how they knew; he just knew they did. They were coming to get him, to take him away. They had somehow found out about his powers, and now he was going to be a scapego
at—framed for heinous crimes he hadn’t committed.
He exhaled, trying to get all the fear out of him. Just cool it. There’s no way they know, he told himself. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet. Once they got inside the house, though, and started asking questions, he knew that was when the lying would start.
He quickly came up with a story in his head. He wasn’t sure if it was the most foolproof one, but it would have to do.
“Patrick, you didn’t do anything, did you?” his mom asked.
Patrick turned to face her and his dad. “No, of course not,” he answered, sounding as ignorant as he could. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” his dad said, nodding toward the front door. A second later, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” he said. He pushed past Patrick and walked to the front door.
Patrick, Ren, and their mother all stood there, listening. Patrick thought his heart was going to explode, it was beating so fast. He could hear it pounding in his chest, which he found incredibly creepy. He hoped it was only because of his powers that he could hear it, and that it wasn’t actually beating hard and fast enough that everybody else could hear it as well.
The door swung open, and Patrick’s dad greeted the two men. “Hello, sirs,” he said.
“Is this the Henry residence?” they asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“We’re detectives with Westlake PD. How are you doing today, Mr. Henry?” one of them asked.
“Good. What’s this about, detectives?” Patrick’s dad asked.
“We were wondering if your son, Patrick Henry, was home?”
“Yes, of course he is,” Patrick’s dad said, confusion in his voice. “Now, what’s this about again?”
The First Superhero Books 0-3 Box Set Page 53