“It’s Mother Superior today, but the Archi-whatever, the investors, and whomever else is involved at the higher levels of The Order knows about the experimental mega-fusion plans. It’s only a matter of time before someone else shows up and tries to pick up where they left off at Rangeley.”
“Your point being?” Blake asked.
Quinn looked at him, exasperated. “The point being, Blake, is that you’re getting wrapped up with some very dangerous people. You think you’re helping them out, but there’s some part of me that wonders if this isn’t part of a larger, greater deception.”
Blake scoffed.
“I’m serious!” Quinn exclaimed. “He talks about punishing those who manage to escape justice, but we haven’t seen any of that. All we’ve seen is energy research and the potential for weather manipulation. If you haven’t been paying attention, there’s a pretty big gap in his story.”
“Don’t you fucking lecture me,” Blake snarled, surprising an elderly man walking past them on the street.
“Language,” the man said, continuing past them in a hurry.
Quinn smiled at the man, but Blake glared at him.
“I gotta turn back, Blake,” Quinn responded flatly. “My break’s almost over.”
“All right, Saturday it is. I’ll see you early in the morning, I guess.”
“Bye.”
Blake sighed and watched Quinn walk back down Daniel Street. If only you saw things the way I did, this would be so much easier.
❖
“I don’t care what the letter said, you little shit, you owe me two-hundred dollars a week!” Ralph shouted.
“The bill was paid, dad, I don’t owe you anything.” Blake screamed back, his temper flaring with newfound confidence. All he wanted to do was go running, but his drunken father had intercepted him.
“I lost four days of work because of you, how do you think I’m going to recoup that money?” Ralph yelled back.
“You should have used sick days, dad. You could have had it paid for.”
“Oh, well, la-di-da! Would you listen to this know-it-all, Stella? He thinks just because he has a job, he understands how the world works!”
“Ralph,” Stella said, her tone pleading for him to stop, but he ignored her.
“I don’t have any sick days left, Blake! I’ve used them all up, so I lost those four days and it’s all your fucking fault, do you hear me?”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t completely wasted and hungover at least once a week, you wouldn’t have needed to take so many sick days. I am not paying you because all you’re gonna do is buy beer and get wasted at your stupid bars.”
Ralph lunged at him, but at the last second, Blake slapped him away with his mind, redirecting his father into the refrigerator. He crashed into it and in his drunken stupor, smashed his nose on the stainless steel. The lights in the kitchen flashed and Blake felt himself warm up.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Blake snarled, raising his fists in defense—not that he needed them. But for now, he decided to keep up appearances in front of his sloshed parents.
Ralph put his hands over his face, blood leaking through his fingers from a sudden nosebleed. “You little shit,” Ralph spat.
Stella screamed and over-dramatically gasping in drunken horror. “Oh my gosh, Blake! Don’t you hurt your father!”
“Mom, stop enabling and defending him. He’s not even going to remember this in the morning.”
Ralph stumbled to the kitchen sink and clumsily swiped at the paper towel holder, pulling the entire thing off the counter. “Dammit!”
“That’s not the point!” his mother fired back as the paper towel holder clattered to the floor.
“Then what is the point?” he yelled, raising his voice to his mother for the first time in a long time. “All you two do is drink and drink and drink. When was the last weekend when you didn’t have at least one drink in you before noon?”
“Don’t you lecture me, young man,” Stella said, her face twisted with guilt and denial. “I’ll have you know we’re very responsible drinkers despite what you think. It’s like you can’t even handle the sight of a few liquor bottles or something.”
Ralph squatted and leaned against the counter. He watched their argument, his hands stained red with blood as he pressed a wad of paper towels against his face. “Look at what you did to me!” he shouted, but Blake ignored him.
“A few liquor bottles? Look around you!” Blake gestured to the kitchen counters and the table. They were covered with cheap vodka bottles that held varying levels of booze in them and a number of overfilled ash trays.
“It’s disgusting in here, and the living room is no better. Dad’s side table is covered with crushed beer cans.”
Stella dismissed it all with a wave of her hand. “Pssht. That’s nothing. You’re just too young to understand.”
“Then recycle them. Tomorrow’s pickup day.”
“No! What would the neighbors think of us if they saw so many empty bottles in the recycling at once? Absolutely not!”
“For crying out loud, mom; the neighbors already know.” Blake turned and stormed out of the house. He put on his earbuds and ran hard into the night.
❖
Blake ran past Hislop Park on Preble Way and turned right onto Irving Way, the road that passed the oil storage area on the other side of Interstate 95.
“Finally, that’s him,” a gruff voice said behind him. Blake heard the voice through his headphones and the music pounding in his ears. He glanced over his shoulders and saw two men running after him. He stopped running and turned around, unsure of what they were doing.
“What do you wa…”
Several gunshots rang out in the cool night air. Blake cried out in pain as sharp pinches dotted his torso.
Oh crap, I've been shot. Blake fell backward, stunned at the intense pain across his chest. Holy shit! How is this even possible? Who are these guys? Why did they just shoot me?
The two men ran over and stood over him, regarding Blake with evil, satisfied glares. “I guess Glow Boy isn't bulletproof,” the taller man said.
Blake recognized the voice. It belonged to one of the two men he had tossed into the Piscataqua River.
“What are we going to do with him?” the other man asked. Blake didn’t recognize this man’s voice.
“The same thing he did to me; throw him into the river and leave it to fate.”
“He won't survive with those gunshot wounds,” the man with the gun said.
“That's the point. This freak doesn't deserve to live. Come on, help me pick him up. I know just where to throw him in.”
The two men grabbed Blake by the arms and dragged him toward the river. Blake cried out as sharp pain radiated across his chest and abdomen. Then, a thought occurred to him.
Wait, I'm knife proof, which means I'm probably bulletproof, too. How is this even happening?
He looked down at his running shirt and saw four holes in the thin athletic material. There was no blood. He smiled, realizing the bullets only induced pain. Though he was not mortally wounded, he decided not to resist and allowed the thugs to drag him to a more secluded spot—the same spot he tossed the tall guy and his friend into the river.
“This little brat threw me and Jimmy into the river and left us to die.”
“How did he throw you into the river? This scrawny kid doesn't look like he has much fight in him.”
“Trust me, he's tougher than he looks. He's like that glowing blue guy, but different, this one’s more evil. He’s the one to be afraid of.”
Blake smiled at the notion he had already garnered a small reputation among a few criminals; it was the start of something greater he could cultivate with time.
“So that's where Jimmy is? Dead in the ocean?”
“Yeah, his body washed up a couple days ago and the police just identified him. Poor guy couldn’t withstand the rip tide.”
That explains where the other guy is…gue
ss he couldn’t handle mother nature’s judgment.
When they approach the river bank, they dropped him to the ground. Blake cried out in pain, playing the part of wounded victim.
“Please,” he begged, improvising agony and pain with a hoarse voice.
He watched the two men survey the river and then turn back to him, evil smirks dancing across their faces.
“Please what, you little twerp?” the taller man snarled.
Blake started laughing. “Please don't make me laugh, jackass.” Then, using his telekinetic powers, he pushed himself off the ground to a standing position. He turned around and glared at the guys, hands curled into fists.
“Did you really think bullets would take me out?”
“Oh shit, what did you drag me into?” the little man with the gun said.
Blake looked down at his ruined shirt. “You idiots just ruined my brand-new running top. I saved a lot of money to buy this.”
The man with the gun drew his weapon and fired several shots, each one deflecting off Blake's torso and shredding his new shirt even more.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Did you not hear what I just said?” Blake snarled, glancing down at his wrecked running shirt.
“What are you?” the man cried out, the gun shaking in his hand.
The corner of Blake's mouth curled upward as his eyes glowed orange.
“Justice.”
Then, he ignited his hands and his torso. He burned with an intense orange and purple flame and his running shirt burned off, leaving him bare-chested and furious.
“Scum like you don't deserve a second chance. I should have finished you off the first time I encountered you, but I was too afraid. Unfortunately for you, I'm not afraid anymore. Tonight, I'll learn from my mistake and finish the job.”
“No, please, don’t! I just got dragged into this!” The short man begged, wetting himself and whimpering with fear. The tall man had turned pale white with terror, his face and eyes reflecting the glowing orange light of Blake’s blazing body.
Blake pointed his hands at the two men and blasted them with superheated fire. Their momentary screams of agony echoed across the river. Blake's powers incinerated them in seconds, charring the ground beneath them and melting the gun into a puddle of hot metal. Blake yelled as he destroyed them, his anger fueling his resolve.
Then, he stopped.
The flames across his shirtless torso went out and the men—what was left of the men—smoked on the ground. He tapped out the embers and small flames with his running shoes, checking the area to make sure there would be no fire. He did not want to be responsible for the oil storage facility’s accidental demise. He turned and continued his run, the feeling of victory evident in the evil grin on his face.
2-22 | Negotiations
Quinn
INVISIBLE, BLUE SPEKTER HOVERED OVER the police chief’s car as it braked to a stop in the modern cobblestone driveway, waiting for the garage door to open. When it did, the chief pulled in and Blue Spekter landed in the center of the driveway behind the car. He appeared out of thin air, his eyes and body glowing with blue light. He figured it would be an awesome sight to behold at night, even if it would be lost on Chief Applegate.
A moment later, she slowly stepped out of her car, eyes focused on him. Blue Spekter suspected it was only a matter of time before backup arrived.
She hesitated for a moment, then drew her firearm.
He raised his hands in surrender. “I only came to talk. But by all means, point your gun at me if it makes you feel better.”
She did.
“What do you want?”
“To talk; to tell you I’m not the bad guy and that there’s potentially something far more sinister coming that you need to worry about.” He lowered his hands.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to believe that.”
“Why not?” Blue Spekter asked, taking a step forward. The chief made a threatening move with her gun, and Blue Spekter stopped. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Vigilantism is…”
“Do you really think I planned to get magical powers and become a common vigilante?”
She didn’t answer him.
Blue Spekter finished her sentence. “Vigilantism is not only illegal but highly dangerous. I’ve heard your statements and press briefings and I Googled it myself. Believe me, I understand your point of view, but you need to understand mine. I didn’t sign up for this, but here I am anyway. When I found myself in a situation where I could help people, I did. If you think I was going to sit on my butt and watch that man fall to his death when I knew I could save him, then I’d be going against everything you swore to do as an officer of the law in the Policemen’s Oath of Honor. Am I wrong?”
The chief lowered her firearm a little. “You’re not wrong.”
Blue Spekter pointed at the gun in her hand and asked, “You know that thing won’t hurt me, right?”
Chief Applegate stepped away from the car and sighed. She holstered her weapon.
“How did you get…the way you are?”
“An accident.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Is that what happened to the other one like you?”
Blue Spekter tilted his head in curiosity. “Other one?”
“You glow blue, he glows orange. The difference is that you seem to save people while he hurts people.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Blue Spekter said, unsure of how to respond.
The chief found courage and stepped forward. “You think you’re the only one running around this town in some fantasyland dream claiming to be its new Messiah, while I’m the one dealing with reality. There’s at least two super-powered people in town. The orange guy? He hurts, maybe even kills people.”
What the hell is Blake doing?
“Weeks ago, we received a report of an adult male with glowing orange eyes beating up and burning thugs on Pierce Island. At first, we though the guys were crazy, but then a woman claimed she was saved from sexual assault by a glowing orange man with super strength in Hislop Park. When the body of a known sexual offender with a violent history washed ashore with handprint burn marks on one of his arms, we knew was going on. So, tell me, whoever you are, do you glow orange as well, or is there someone else?”
Blue Spekter dropped his arms to his sides and looked down at the ground. “I don’t glow orange. I only glow blue.”
“Dammit. There’s two of you.”
“I want to help you, Chief.”
“Unlikely.”
“Please give me a chance. I’m not going anywhere, so we might as well find some common ground and possibly trust each other, even if only a little.”
Chief Applegate crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll think about it. Maybe when you share who you are and what you can do, then I’ll think about trusting you.”
“That first part isn’t going to happen, Chief, at least not yet. You’re scared of me because you can’t control me, and I respect that. But I promise you that I am not your enemy. I grew up reading comics and I know the difference between right and wrong, I understand the moral choices superheroes must make.”
The chief laughed in exasperation. “You think because you’ve read comic books you understand how the world works? Maybe I should include a comic books morality question on the police interview questionnaire to make sure my officers have a sound understanding of how the world works. Sheesh.”
Blue Spekter chuckled. “Okay, I admit that sounded really stupid.”
“Ya think? Listen, kid—and now I know you’re a teenage kid because no sensible adult would have tried that argument on me. You’re probably a sophomore at Portsmouth High.”
Blue Spekter ignored her on-point insight and sighed. “I was only trying to say that I understand the gravity of the responsibility entrusted to me with these powers.”
“Entrusted to you? Who do you think gave you these powers?”
“No one did, Chief, it was an accident. The un
iverse; I don’t know—like I said, it wasn’t planned. My reality, Chief, is that I now have to deal with these abilities. I choose to do something good with them, and to help others whenever I can.”
Two silent-running squad cars and four black SUVs pulled up behind Blue Spekter. Officers and DHS agents stepped out of their vehicles and aimed weapons at him.
Blue Spekter shook his head and sighed.
“Unless you plan on shooting me, lower you weapons,” the chief ordered loudly. Then, she took a few steps closer to Blue Spekter. “You may not be my problem today, and you might not be my problem tomorrow. I hope you’re never my problem because honestly, I don’t know how to stop you if I ever have to. But the orange vigilante is one of my hottest problems and it’s in my best interest to figure out how to stop him, even if that means being able to stop you. Someone with your seemingly unstoppable abilities could wreak havoc on the city, the country, and the planet. So, if I seem a little tense around you, it’s because you two made my life four times as complicated.”
Blue Spekter nodded and lifted off the ground. “I get it. I’ll do my best to track down the other guy. I’ll be in touch.”
“Preferably at headquarters and not my driveway, got it?”
Blue Spekter saluted and rocketed away into the night sky. If I’m going to meet her there, I need more than glowing theatrics to keep my identity hidden. Now…how do I deal with Blake?
❖
Blake
“This is so freaking cool!” Blake shouted, laughing as he flew through the cool early morning air on Quinn’s back. “I hope my flying powers kick in soon!”
“I know right?” Quinn shouted back, extending his right fist in front of him. “Look, I can do the Superman flying pose.”
Blake laughed again, hanging on for dear life as his buddy zipped over the trees toward Rangeley. They had left Portsmouth at six o’clock, well before sunrise, and carefully flew up the Piscataqua and Salmon Falls rivers until they soared over the tree line in South Berwick and headed north. Rather than have Quinn carry him, Blake jumped on his back—piggyback style—and the boys began their adventure to Orgonon.
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