The First Superhero Books 0-3 Box Set

by Logan Rutherford

  Patrick looked down at the picture. The scene captured in it made him want to puke. He could smell the memories.

  The screaming. The exhilaration. The revenge.

  He was going to pay for pushing him.

  She was going to pay for rejecting him.

  They were all going to pay for the years of neglect, and torment—and facilitation.

  “Patrick.” Winston’s snapping fingers brought Patrick back to reality. Now that he was back, Winston moved on to the next picture.

  He pushed it across the table, and Patrick recognized it instantly. It was Joshua’s crumpled-up car.

  God, I love that feeling.

  “How does a car end up like this, Patrick?”

  Patrick shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

  Winston smiled, pure joy etching itself across his face. “Why don’t you look it up on your phone, and we can see?”

  Patrick huffed, frustrated to have to explain himself once again. “I told you, my phone got stolen. You’ve seen the police report.”

  Winston nodded. “Yes, I have. But you got it back, right?”

  Patrick shook his head. “It’s probably sitting on the shelf of some pawn shop somewhere.”

  Winston shrugged. “Yeah, you’re probably right. In any case, do you know how a car could end up like this?” he asked, tapping the picture.

  The crushing. The smashing. The throwing. The power.

  Patrick’s eyes fluttered and his head pounded. “I don’t.”

  Winston looked down at his folder. “Oh, hold up. I think the guys who stole your phone are named Harvey Franklin and Tovin Melrose.”

  Patrick felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. The blood drained from his face.

  “Yeah, they fit the description you gave us. The description of both them, and their car.” Winston looked up at Patrick, smiling. “Well, case closed, I guess. Always a great feeling. One thing, though,” he said. He pulled out another picture and showed it to Patrick. “Any idea how their car ended up like this?”

  The photo was of the car Patrick had crushed and thrown through Tovin and Harvey’s house.

  Patrick had no idea what to say. He just shook his head. His gaze wandered from the picture of Tovin and Harvey’s crumpled car to Joshua’s crushed truck. They looked exactly the same. He could feel the memories. It felt as if ice had filled his stomach.

  “Strangely enough, we found your blood all over the inside of this crushed-up car.” Winston frowned. “Sorry we couldn’t find your phone, though. At least, not there.”

  Patrick looked up at Winston, ready to puke as a third theory began to form in his mind, one that he’d tried so long to deny. One that he’d tried for so long to keep locked behind a door in his mind.

  Detective Winston reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gray device that Patrick recognized instantly. “We did find it on the desk in your bedroom, though.” Winston smiled, full of joy, but for a split second, his smile faltered. “You did the same thing to Harvey and Tovin that you did at the party that night, didn’t you?”

  Patrick didn’t know what to think. His mind was blank. He couldn’t take his eyes off the two pictures. Two different crime scenes, yet obviously created by the same person. He breathed slowly, in and out. Then he looked up at Winston.

  Winston’s smile faded.

  “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you, Detective Winston?”

  A bead of sweat dripped down Winston’s forehead.

  Patrick knew there was only one way out of this. He calmly jerked his hands, and the cuffs flew off his wrists and landed as twisted debris on either side of the room.

  Winston jumped back from his chair and pushed his back against the wall. His face turned red and he was breathing very fast.

  Patrick caught a glimpse of himself in the one-way glass. One look at himself smirking in the glass with glowing, bright blue eyes, and he knew. He remembered.

  Face-to-face. Just inches away. He could see his own glowing eyes reflected in her tearful ones.

  She’s gone.

  Patrick mentally circled Theory Three in his mind. Ding ding ding, we have a winner, he thought.

  “It was nice working with you, Detective Winston,” Patrick said. Then he looked up toward the ceiling and shot through it, flying straight up into the air.

  The Second Super

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Patrick floated over the city of Ebon, Indiana.

  He remembered the house he’d flown by just a day earlier was near this city. He had no idea why, but he couldn’t get the face of the boy who was inside the house out of his head. There was something about it that stuck with him. He’d seen many faces over the past couple of months, but there was something about the one he’d seen yesterday that begged for further investigation.

  The kid was around Patrick’s own age, but had a bit of a younger-looking face. He didn’t remember exactly where the house was—he’d been flying by so fast it was pretty much a blur, which made the fact that he could clearly remember the person’s face even more peculiar to him.

  He flew down toward the city. He’d never heard of Ebon, but he loved exploring a new place. He aimed for the road, flying down toward it as fast as he could. The feeling was astounding, exhilarating. It never got old for him.

  He pulled up right before he could hit the ground, now flying just inches above it. The glass of nearby cars and buildings exploded in his wake, a sound that Patrick found extremely satisfying when he was going slowly enough to hear it.

  Patrick slowed down, beginning to look around for something fun to do. He saw a parking lot filled with cars. “Oh, come on, you guys have just been asking for me, haven’t you?” he said with a chuckle. He flew toward the parking lot. When he got closer, he realized it was the parking lot of a high school. He saw signs pointing toward the gymnasium that read Richter Shelter.

  His smile disappeared. His happiness turned to anger. “Now, you bitches are really asking for it,” he said under his breath.

  He flew toward the parking lot and landed with a skid. He walked toward the front door, the smile on his face returning. The looks on people’s face when they saw him never got old.

  He opened the door and walked in, the cool air blasting him. “I just love air conditioning,” he said, looking up at the vents.

  “RICHTER!” a voice screamed.

  Suddenly the entire gymnasium was filled with screams and shouts. Patrick chuckled as he floated upwards. He flew to the center of the basketball court and hovered high above the center. “Oh my god, everybody run! He’s coming! Run run run!” he shouted.

  People scattered toward the door. It was like a stampede. Patrick shook his head and smirked like it was Thanksgiving and an embarrassing story was being told. Then he flew outside and watched as the people scattered. He tried to get a look at their faces, but they were all running around, scattering like roaches in the light. “EVERYBODY STAND STILL!” he screamed.

  They all stopped running, frozen by fear. Patrick sighed. He loved that feeling. He looked to the back of the parking lot where some news vans were set up. Oh, good, an audience, he thought.

  He began scanning the faces in the crowd. They all looked up at him, frozen with fear and reverence. He wished he could admire the faces, but he couldn’t. He was too busy searching for one in particular.

  He reached the front of the crowd, and when he looked at the last face, he sighed. He wasn’t there. The guy from the farm wasn’t there.

  A whimpering noise reached his ears. Patrick turned around and followed the noise, keenly aware of everyone below him watching his every move.

  He floated toward the roof of the gymnasium. There, hiding behind the low wall that surrounded the roof, cowered a redheaded girl. “What are you doing up here?” he asked as he floated down.

  She stared up at him, fear radiating from every pore in her body.

  “Getting some fresh air? Taking in the view? Trust me, I’ve seen better,”
Patrick said.

  “Screw you Richter,” she said. She spat at his feet.

  Anger flared within him. He lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck. “I hate it when people call me that.”

  He turned her around and grabbed her by the back of the neck, then he floated up over the wall, the redhead in hand. Everybody was still standing there, down below, as he’d expected. Patrick held the girl out above the ground, her legs kicking. The terror coming from her was palpable.

  “Somebody help me, please!” she screeched.

  Nobody calls me Richter, he thought.

  Patrick let go of her, and seconds later there was a very loud boom.

  Somebody flew up and caught her, then brought her safely to the ground.

  Before he even saw the face, Patrick knew who it was. It was the face he’d seen just the day before. The girl’s rescuer looked up at him, and even with his glowing blue eyes, Patrick knew why that face had haunted him.

  He looked exactly how Patrick imagined Victoria’s brother Ben would look if he had gotten a couple of years older. Memories came flooding back to him, memories he’d tried so hard to keep locked away. Memories that filled him with sadness. Memories he’d spent the last two months trying to forget.

  Memories of that night in the woods, the night he had killed Ben and everybody else at the party.

  That’s where this all started, he thought. That was the night Richter was born.

  A blinding pain broke him from his train of thought. It felt as if a locomotive had slammed into his chin while going at full speed. Patrick flipped backwards through the air, unable to regain his composure. He felt something grab hold of his shirt and rip it right off him.

  Patrick got hold of himself and straightened out. He turned and got one last glance at Ben’s doppelgänger. The new Super was floating there, staring right at him, holding Patrick’s black t-shirt in his hand. He was taking everything in, fighting the urge to smile.

  Patrick decided he should leave before the new Super went after him some more. He would give them all this moment, for Ben.

  I can’t wait to find out if you’re as easy to kill as he was, he thought as he flew away.

  The Secret is Out

  The adventure continues in The Secret of The Supers, click here to pick up your copy today!

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