Battlecry

by Emerald Dodge

  Wait, what? Had he just paid me a compliment? I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to do or say.

  His smile grew wider. “It’s too bad Reid and Ember aren’t as durable as you are. Their little mutiny this afternoon didn’t end well for them, Ember especially.” He tilted his head back and laughed.

  I launched myself at him.

  As I suspected, he blasted me backwards into the wall next to the janitor’s closet, but I hadn’t braced myself for it.

  I slammed into the wall at the same time that Patrick yelled in pain.

  While the spots in my vision cleared, I made out Marco throwing bursts of heat at Patrick, who was chucking books back at him. Marco didn’t look any worse for the wear.

  Yards away, Benjamin stood behind a pillar, clutching a pair of scissors and watching the fight— he’d helped Marco up while Patrick was busy with me.

  I pulled the fire alarm.

  A head-splitting ringing filled the library, followed by the spluttering of long-unused sprinklers overhead. Several dozen nozzles began to spray water in every direction, soaking each person, book, and machine in the building.

  The few civilians left in the library screamed again and ran around with their arms over their heads. Patrick and Marco both stopped and covered their ears, blinking confusedly at the sprinklers as I’d hoped they would.

  I lunged at Patrick, tackling him with half a year’s pent up fury. We tumbled for a moment, grappling with each other, until his fist connected with my temple and I fell on my back.

  In less than a second he was over me, his hand around my throat, invisible weights pinning my wrists to the floor. Water from the ceiling sprayed into my face, blinding me.

  I’d acted in anger, and now I’d paid the price.

  Beyond us, I heard Marco’s furious yell, and then the horrible sound of him being thrown back into a piece of furniture.

  “Hey, I did this with Ember a few hours ago,” Patrick said, panting. “It was fun.”

  Thoughts of disemboweling Patrick pierced through my mind, dragging a fog of rage over me. Pulling my hands up with immense difficulty, I gouged my nails into his skin, but he simply squeezed my windpipe harder.

  My hands were forced back to the floor, and blinding rage melted into panic as I realized I couldn’t get him off me.

  I was not going to die on the floor of the library at Patrick’s hands. I was not. I was not.

  White spots sparkled around the edges of my vision.

  I was not going to die like this. I was not going to die like this.

  And then, out of nowhere, two hands seized Patrick’s neck and pulled him off me.

  The crushing weight on my wrists dissipated. I choked a breath and coughed for several seconds, then pushed myself up from the waterlogged carpet and searched frantically for my adversary.

  Several feet away Reid and Patrick were throwing punches in the artificial downpour, snarling at each other with a hatred I’d never seen between them. Reid’s lip was bleeding and the shadowy beginning of a black eye was apparent, but if he was in pain it didn’t slow him down. He exuded as much physical power as any fighter I’d seen. I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought of Reid as skinny.

  But why was he here? My immediate guess was that he was defending me, but when had Reid ever stepped in between Patrick and me?

  And then Ember was there, kneeling next to me and hoisting me to my feet, her mouth a grim line. “Up you get,” she whispered. “Back here.” She pulled me behind a bookshelf.

  I opened my mouth to express how happy I was to see her, but stopped when I really saw her. A dried trail of blood beneath her nose told of a recent nosebleed. Thin red scratches on her neck disappeared beneath her collar. Her knuckles were torn and bloody, familiar to a hand-to-hand fighter like myself.

  Hatred boiled in my veins. “What did he do to you?”

  Ember scowled. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  Before I could respond, the ground rumbled, the hallmark of Reid’s abilities. I gasped—he was causing an earthquake while we were inside. The ground rumbled again—I had to get involved. This fight was getting out of control.

  Ember tensed and stepped towards the fight, but I grabbed her shoulder. We have to coordinate our effort if we’re going to accomplish anything.

  Her jaw hardened. Any ideas?

  I know you hate doing this, but can you be our communicator?

  Surprisingly, Ember gave me a soft smile. I don’t mind doing it for people who ask nicely. She cracked her knuckles. So what’s the plan?

  Reid and Patrick were locked in a dead heat. Reid was either trying to knock down Patrick via small tremors or he was suffering anger-induced power incontinence, like Patrick had a few moments ago. Marco was down. Ember wasn’t terribly useful right now except for her telepathy.

  So that left me.

  Patrick had temporarily bested me because I’d moronically attacked him dead-on when he’d expected it. I squeezed my eyes shut in annoyance with myself, because of course he’d expected it. That’s why he went after Marco initially. I’d flown into a rage, and then later on he’d bragged about hurting Ember, chipping at my control again.

  I hated to admit it, but Patrick had played me like an instrument. He’d be expecting me to do something equally amateur again. I needed to move him into a corner this time. What was his weakness? I’d already pulled the fire alarm to distract him.

  I scanned the library for a weapon.

  My eye fell on the spool of electrical wire beyond the caution tape. An hour before, I’d read in the children’s science book about the dangers of mixing electricity and water. I glanced at my feet, where water was already pooling in the indentations my boots left in the carpet, and then over to the circuit breaker box. I’d been surprised to read that it wasn’t remotely dangerous.

  The ground wobbled again.

  Ember, I need you to relay a message to Reid and Benjamin, and also memorize some lines.

  Tell me.

  Tell Reid to start directing the fight towards the circuit breaker box—

  The what?

  The metal box by the janitor’s closet. Direct the fight towards that. When Patrick’s not looking, have Benjamin heal Marco, then tell him to hide again. I gave her some more lines I needed her to say, as well as lines to pass to the others.

  She grinned. “Brilliant.”

  I sprinted around the shelves, taking the long way to the spool of wire. I grabbed the end of the spool and hastily unwound the entire line, then ran to the breaker box. I shoved one end of the wire into the breaker box, slamming the door on it so the rest stuck out like a strange rubber tail. I turned over a mop bucket and stood on it.

  “Battlecry, no!” Ember’s terrified scream made everyone’s heads whip around and look at me.

  “If anyone so much as sneezes, I’ll fry every last one of us!” I brandished the other end of the wire and glared at Patrick. “Give me a reason.”

  He eyed it and took a half step back. I felt a small tug on the wire.

  I jerked the wire away. “Telekinesis is a conductor, moron. If you lift this cable up, fifty thousand volts of pure electricity will surge directly into your brain.” I pointed to the breaker box. “It’s plugged right into the source.”

  “What’s a conductor?” Ember asked, fearful.

  “It’s what’s going to make killing you all very easy if I drop this. Believe me, I don’t want all of you to die, but if that’s what it takes to kill Patrick, that’s what’s going to happen. By the way, water is a conductor, too.” I pointed to the sprinklers that were still gushing water.

  Reid’s eyes flickered to Ember, and beyond him Marco and Benjamin stood behind a pillar, watching Patrick. She’d filled them in on my performance.

  Patrick eyed me. “You’re lying.” His words lacked conviction.

  “She’s not.” Benjamin stepped out from behind the pillar, trembling. He held his hands up to Patrick and me as if to calm frightened animals. “
I know you’re all superheroes, but if the end of the wire touches the floor, we’re all dead. No superpower can protect you from that much charge.” He looked at Patrick with pleading eyes. “Please listen to her. I…I think she’ll really kill us all.” He leaned towards Patrick as if they were friends. “I saw her reading about bomb-making earlier. She’s crazy.”

  “I really will.” I narrowed my eyes. “Killing everyone here to kill you is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Marco gasped. I softened my expression. “Even you, Helios.”

  The thought of Marco dying made my stomach twist.

  Reid stepped forward. “That won’t be necessary. I can raise an electricity barrier around Patrick to contain the power.”

  Patrick flipped him off. “Traitor.”

  Reid returned the gesture, then looked at me. “On your order.” His eyes glowed a soft white, indicating his complete psychic hold on the earth below us.

  I lifted my chin and stared at Patrick. “Easy way or hard way, dick.”

  Ember, where are the emergency services?

  Less than sixty seconds away.

  Good. I can’t bluff for much longer.

  Patrick took a deep breath…and then sank to his knees.

  He’d surrendered.

  I stepped off the bucket, my face not showing the elation behind it. “Cross your ankles and put your hands behind your head.”

  He gave me a dark look but put his hands behind his head. “My father will order your death for this,” he muttered.

  I kicked his ankle. “Then I’ll zap him, too. I said cross ‘em.”

  I wasn’t afraid of Elder Campbell. Marco had left the team like I had, but unlike me, he hadn’t assaulted Patrick before doing so. My former leader had had no right to attack Marco, and even an elder’s son could expect reprisals for such an act. Elder Campbell would be angry that we’d defied his son’s authority, but Elder St. James wouldn’t let him do anything to us.

  The sudden high whine of sirens outside the library comforted me; I’d only have to pretend to threaten my team for a minute longer.

  I pointed towards the library doors. “Now would be the time to decide what you’re going to tell the police. Two dozen civilians saw you ambush Marco.”

  Patrick said nothing, merely narrowing his eyes at me. Water poured down on the six of us for a few tense seconds, and then his face drained of emotion, smoothing over into a mask of resignation.

  “Fine,” he spat. “You win. Congratulations.”

  Well, that was easy.

  The doors burst open and several firemen rushed inside in their full gear. In other circumstances I might have felt a twinge of guilt for summoning them when there was no fire, but now they served as uniformed witnesses to Patrick’s surrender.

  Confident that Patrick wouldn’t attack us when city personnel were present, I took a step back and told everyone to watch him while I went to find the most senior police officer on the scene, and possibly the fire marshal.

  One of the firemen walked towards me. Behind him was Captain Drummond in an elegant floor-length dress—I supposed she’d been called in to work after normal hours when word got out that Atropos had started rampaging around a city library.

  Both of them opened their mouths to speak.

  The lights flickered, then went out, plunging the library into blackish-blue shadows.

  I spun around and looked at Patrick. He was watching a fireman flip switches in the circuit breaker box.

  Patrick turned to me, grinning.

  24

  A hard, smooth weight pinned me down. I cracked open an eye and saw the darkened library, tilted and blurry.

  My initial dim thought was that the library patrons probably didn’t appreciate all the bookshelves being on the ground, nor the lights being out. Strange wailing sounds filtered in from all around me, and after a second I realized it was the sound of many people crying and moaning for help.

  Why was it so dark? Why were the bookshelves on the ground? And why was I several yards away, next to a wall? Why were people crying? What was going on?

  Blinking, I forced myself up, and the large weight slid to the side with a clatter. It was an upended table. After struggling to my feet, I surveyed my surroundings.

  My first impression was that the Destructor had dropped a bomb in the middle of the first floor. The library was in ruins, the wreckage radiating out from a central point about fifteen yards from me.

  Civilians, dead and alive, lay all over the ground, though most were lying prone at the base of solid, grounded objects like walls and desks.

  The main overhead lights were out, leaving only a few emergency fluorescent lights which cast odd shadows over the wreckage. The sound of dripping was a ceaseless drumbeat in the background.

  A woman in an EMS uniform hurried over to me, a medical bag in her hand. Her neck badge identified her as Sarah. Other EMS personnel attended to wounded civilians. I couldn’t see my team.

  Sarah took my hand. “Are you alright? Sit down, don’t walk, you might have broken bones. Can you hear me? What’s your name?” She looked over her shoulder. “I need help over here!”

  “Battlecry.”

  “What?” She pointed a penlight at my eyes.

  I turned my head away and shoved her hand down, annoyance finally overcoming my dull confusion. “My name is Battlecry. I’m one of the city’s superheroes. What happened here?”

  Sarah studied me for a moment, then clicked off her light. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Patrick on his knees. The sprinklers raining down on us. Turning to speak to Captain Drummond and the fireman. And then…and then…

  “My team fought Atropos.” My voice was faint. “He surrendered.”

  Sarah shook her head. “The call we got said a bomb went off, but Captain Drummond over there says Atropos sort of, well, blasted everything in the place. That was nearly twenty minutes ago.”

  She continued to speak, but I couldn’t process what she was saying.

  I staggered away from her, towards the ruined books, struggling to accept what I was seeing. Small water droplets fell on my face. I’d seen destruction before, in some cases much worse than a destroyed library.

  But I’d never seen death and destruction of this level at the hands of a superhero.

  Patrick Campbell, born and raised in Oconee camp, the proud son of an elder, had killed civilians to evade capture. I expected him to try to strangle me to death, but kill civilians? Never.

  Captain Drummond was alive, sitting against a wall and speaking to another police officer. Though her dress was torn and she had countless scrapes and bruises, she appeared unharmed.

  We made eye contact and she nodded her head towards the fallen bookshelves, where a dozen or so emergency workers were attending to the fallen.

  As I walked over, I passed the crumpled body of the fireman who’d been standing next to Captain Drummond. Before I could reflect on how many people Patrick had killed, two emergency workers moved aside, allowing me to see what lay on the ground ahead of them.

  “Let me by!” I shoved EMS and police out of the way.

  Reid and Ember were laid out side by side, bloodied and unconscious, but still breathing. Marco rested against a pillar, his leg sticking out at an odd angle. He was holding an ice pack to his head. Beyond him was a surly Benjamin, sitting on a table with his arms crossed while an EMS man took his blood pressure.

  He looked up, and though he didn’t smile, his features relaxed somewhat.

  I rushed to my best friend’s side first.

  “I don’t…I don’t know what happened,” Marco stammered before I could speak, his face haggard. “One second I was standing next to that jackass and then the next I was lying on top of a bookshelf with a gimpy leg.” He sat up with effort and gestured at his broken limb. “God, I’m going to be useless for a while.”

  Relief flooded through me. He was injured, but not fatally.

  I kissed his forehead. “Nobody on
this team will ever be useless, remember? Can you brighten this place up a bit?”

  Marco shook his head, stopping abruptly to grimace. “No, I used nearly everything when I was fighting. It’s too dark outside for a recharge now, and stupid fake fluorescent lights make me sick.”

  “Then rest for now.” I kissed his head again. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  Ember and Reid both had bloody lumps on the sides of their heads, but their pulses were even and strong. I wasn’t worried that there’d be any permanent damage—not if Benjamin was there.

  Before I left their sides I put Ember’s hand in Reid’s. Skin contact facilitated telepathy, and while I didn’t know if Ember could speak telepathically when she was unconscious, I knew that if she could, she’d want to talk to Reid.

  Finally, I walked over to Benjamin, who was hunched over on the table, his right arm in a blue sling identical to the one I’d been wearing when we first met. The medic who’d attended to him was now helping a policewoman with a pencil sticking out of her torso. Dark bloodstains on both their uniforms reflected the dim light.

  “What’s the damage?” I lightly touched his sling.

  He winced. “A sprained shoulder, believe it or not.”

  “Did you fall down the bleachers?”

  “That’s the official story. But just between you and me, I got tossed into a wall by some overpowered maniac.”

  “Been there, done that.”

  Benjamin laughed, then sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m the one person I can’t heal. This thing’s gotta heal on its own, which could take a little while. At least it’s not broken, right?”

  A flashlight’s beam momentarily lit up Benjamin’s face, and he jerked his head down.

  I reached out my hand and brushed his cheekbone with the tips of my fingers, avoiding the cuts and bruises. “You’ll heal. I promise. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  The humor in his eyes melted away, leaving empty sadness in its wake. “I don’t know where Eleanor is.” He peered up at the balcony. “I hope she got out.”

  “I’m sure she did. I didn’t see her when I walked over here.”

  Benjamin swallowed and nodded. “You deal with this stuff all the time, don’t you? Being tossed around, dead people, carnage. I used to dream about being a superhero—can you believe that?” He snorted. “Every kid in America dreams that at some point or another.”