Fire Hazard: Cape High Book Eight (Cape High Series 8)

by R. J. Ross

  “Told me what your mom said?” he asks softly. “That you’ve found someone or something in the norm life and that you’re going out to live it instead of being like me?”

  “No,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh. The entire group is watching us silently. Jimmi’s marshmallow catches on fire until the flames are creeping up the stick to her hand. Automatically the flames die down and her hand starts glowing an orange color. She doesn’t even seem to notice. “It’s okay, guys,” I tell the group, wanting to calm them down. “It’s not anything important.”

  The image of the flame disappearing is stuck in my mind and I abruptly remember--”Jimmi,” I say, making her jump slightly, “thanks, you know, for earlier. The dorm room,” I add.

  I see a hint of red on her face as she turns away, going to get another stick and marshmallow. “It’s fine,” she says quietly. “We’re friends, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Hand over the bag, I suddenly feel like a s’more,” I say, holding my hand out to the nearest kid.

  ***

  *Texas*

  It’s been a long day for Ginger Hanks. The hospital never lets her take it easy and she’s always on call, but she loves what she’s doing. The only part of the day that still sits poorly with her is the image of them wheeling the Will boy out of the hospital room. He’d been transferred so quickly that her head still spun trying to figure out how a little old man could pull it off.

  She walks through the hospital’s garage, pulling out her phone to make a quick call, telling her boys that she’ll be home soon. It’s the first night that week she’s actually been home before their bedtime, she thinks with a sigh. It’ll be good to see them awake for a bit--

  “Ms. Hanks?”

  The question sends a chill down her spine and she slips her hand into her pocket, grabbing the can of mace she keeps there as she turns. A tall man in a suit steps out of the shadows, pulling a case forward to show her. “I’m from a private investor--he’s interested in hiring you for a project.”

  “I’m sorry, I really don’t have time for another job,” she says, knowing something shady when she sees it. “Now I’m not sure how you got in here, but I suggest you leave--”

  “We were told to start at half a mil,” the male says, opening the briefcase. “It can go up, of course, the boss is quite generous with his workers. He needs a geneticist. He chose you.”

  “What does he need a geneticist for?” she asks, staring at the money. Her school bills, her two sons, the mortgage--all of it is racing through her mind as she thinks how much half a million could pay off.

  “To save his grandson, Wes Will.”

  She jerks, looking at him in shock. “You mean the boy that was transferred out? Had he left him in the hospital--”

  “The boss likes to oversee such things himself,” someone says from behind her. “These negotiations are taking too long, Hal, I say we just knock her out.” She doesn’t have time to react before a rag covers her face. Chloroform, her mind provides right before she falls unconscious.

  “We were supposed to give her the chance to come willingly, Cob,” the man holding the suitcase says as he closes it and heads inside. “Oh well, take her to the boss, I’ll take care of her ‘transfer.’”

  “Sounds good.”

  ***

  “Put her over there in that bed,” the old man says as the male nurse comes in. “She’ll wake up soon, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” the nurse says as he puts the unconscious doctor down.

  “I take it the bribe didn’t work. Ah well, until the people I sent to the capital come back with another she’ll have to do.”

  The nurse looks around, seeing a large rottweiler laying unconscious on the operating table. “Did he sneak down again?” he asks, hesitantly. The sight of the old man standing next to the counter with a syringe in his hand makes him a bit worried. The dog isn’t a bad dog, after all--

  “I can’t keep him from it, so I figured I’d put him to use,” the old man says, holding up two different test tubes. One is full of a glowing blue liquid that sloshes slightly as his hand moves, the other is glowing an eerie orange color. First he sticks the syringe into the blue liquid, pulling just a tiny drop out, then he fills it with the glowing orange color, swirling both around. The results twist and spiral in an eerie fashion, both fascinating and horrifying the nurse.

  “Shouldn’t you wait until the geneticist wakes up, boss?” he asks.

  The old man ignores him, staring at the syringe with a fascinated look. “This is the only one I never tested,” he says, not bothering to look at the nurse. “I always wanted to see what it would do, but wasting the entire thing on a dog seems a shame, don’t you think?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  *Missouri*

  We built a small house next to the dorm, leaving enough room between the two for a fire to die. Thankfully there’s no grass growing in this part of the canyon, so there’s nothing TO burn. We got a day off of school to help with the house. We just barely finished the plumbing and electrical work by the time the sun was setting, and that was only because Jack and Nico were helping. The inside of the house was bare and open, more of a structure than a house at the time. I ignored that fact and slept outside next to the bonfire along with Flint. By the next morning, though, half of the dorm had made their way outside with us.

  I woke up with Lance sleeping in a small fox form on my back. It wasn’t the first time I woke up that way, if you’re curious. He tends to sleep shift and travel. The week went on like that, either studying in school, working on fireproofing the house, or practicing with Jack. I caught glances of Dad cleaning, and he would wave at me, but I told myself I didn’t have time to have a proper talk.

  Now I’m standing in front of the new kids’ museum, ready for my debut. The week went seriously fast.

  “Here we go, kid,” Nico says, patting me roughly on the back. I know for a fact that half of the Central Hall is watching, either over Hall TV or from a distance. I know Flint’s hanging out at the cafe down the street, I can see him. He’s sitting with Ken and Jimmi, drinking a pop. “Your Dad’s over there,” Nico says, nodding casually in the opposite direction, “sitting with Jeanie.”

  “He’s not going to make a run for it or something, is he?” I ask. “Now is the best time to escape.”

  “When his son is about to debut as a hero? I doubt it. But if it makes you feel more secure, even I would have a tough time running from Jeanie,” he says, pushing me forward. “Now get inside and get changed.”

  “Are you going to change into uniform?” I ask as we head into the kid’s museum. It’s huge and brightly colored, with full sized statues of some of the biggest fighters in history. There’s the first Liberty--who looks a lot like Ken. His outfit is ancient looking and he’s got leather gloves. Are those suspenders? So weird! Nico grabs me before I go over to inspect. “Hey, can we bring the school here sometime?” I ask.

  “Sure,” he says, “and if I suit up they’ll expect me to deal with the problem. That would be contradictory to the plan. Not to mention it wouldn’t be much of a fight,” he adds a bit dryly. “You two, though, give a nice flashy little showing--make sure not to hit anything that’ll burn and keep the scorch marks to a minimum, got it?” he orders silently as we head for the restroom. I nod, checking the stalls as he watches the door. When I’m positive that no one is there, I slip off my outer layer of civvies and put my mask on. There’s now a glowing orange fire symbol on the chest of my suit. It looks good.

  “Ready,” I say.

  “Good, let’s get started.”

  ***

  I didn’t expect it to be like this, I think as I step up in front of the massive building. The new Kid’s Museum is right smack dab in the middle of downtown KC, made up of Grecian architecture, along with whimsical sculptures scattered over the yard in front. The yard is full of kids and adults, waiting expectantly for a hero of awesome standing to show up--and they get me.

  I take
in a deep breath, knowing I should apologize. Before I can say anything, though, one of the kids in the front points at me. “Hey--hey, aren’t you Fire Hazard?” he asks. “You were down in Texas last week, right? It was all over Youtube!”

  The audience suddenly starts paying attention to the conversation, and a handful of news reporters move closer, looking a lot more interested than they were earlier. “Yes,” I say, absently taking the giant scissors that one of the workers is trying to hand me, “I’m Fire Hazard.”

  “You worked with Kid Liberty, right?” one of the news reporters asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, “I did. He’s a great guy.”

  “Can I get your autograph?” the kid asks, digging through his pockets for paper.

  “If you don’t mind waiting a bit. I’m actually here to do a job,” I admit, stepping closer to the mic they’ve provided. “I have a letter from America’s Son--” I say, patting down my uniform to find it. As a group the audience starts to laugh. “I think I left it in my other tights, though,” I go on, giving up with a shrug. “I’d like to thank you all for coming. My name is Fire Hazard. I’m one of the next generation capes. The reason they sent me here is because this entire building is dedicated to the next generation--to the ones that will be running the future,” I say, turning and motioning to the museum.

  The crowd starts clapping, some of it more enthusiastic than others. “Some of you might know me now, some might have never heard of me before,” I go on as the clapping slows, “but even though I have a few special tricks up my sleeves, I’m just like the kids we’re inviting into the museum. We’ve all got potential to be something great. One of the fastest ways to that greatness is by looking to what people have done in the past and learning from it. Thankfully this building provides us with a glimpse into that past. That’s why I’m extremely honored to be the one to officially announce--”

  “Wait up, wait up.” The entire crowd and I turn, looking up at the sky. Jack is lounging on his metal surfboard over their heads with a silver studded mic dangling from his fingers. That’s why his voice echoed so well--he’s been ripping off Max’s trademark. “You’re speaking pretty big for an unknown cape, you know,” he says to me. “I came here expecting some big name, only to get a toothpick in tights.”

  “This is an important ceremony, Cold Steel,” I say, pulling the mic off the stand. “Why don’t you do something more important with your time--like an extra coat of wax?” I demand.

  “Already buffed the chrome for the day,” he says, turning so the light of the sun gleams blindingly off of his arm. I ignore it, putting the mic up and stepping away from the building. The security guards rush forward to pull the crowd away from me as I light up my hair and arms. The crowd screams as I throw a fireball straight at Jack, hitting him in the chest and knocking him off of his surfboard. I rush forward as the circle of watchers widens, giving us room to fight.

  “What are you here for, Cold Steel?” I demand, grabbing him by the shirt. He grins at me, showing teeth coated in steel.

  “I don’t like the idea of shoving ancient capes down their throats,” he says cheerfully. “Like my old man--he’s yesterday’s news! I AM THE FUTURE!” He sends me flying with that arrogant statement (and a heavy fist straight to the gut), but I catch myself quickly.

  “I sense a daddy complex,” I taunt him, rushing forward and tackling him to the ground. He flips me over his head, his foot hitting me in the gut and sending me into the air in a trick we discovered by accident during a spar. I can light up like a match in the air if I focus on it. It lets me stay up there and it looks pretty cool. It’s just the boot to the stomach part that sucks.

  “I ain’t got a daddy complex, you overgrown lighter,” Jack growls, jumping on his board and coming up after me. He totally has a daddy complex, I decide as we float around each other in the sky. He digs his hand into his pocket, pulling out a handful of small ball bearings. They’re hollow, I know, Jack’s own special fireworks. The crowd doesn’t know, though, which is the important part.

  “You’re so big on entertaining the public, why don’t you dance for them?” he taunts, flicking one of the ball bearings at me. It shoots just like a bullet, straight for me, but I hit it with a fireball. It lights up like a firecracker, sparking flashily before falling to the ground. We repeat the trick, speeding up with each one, until it looks like a fireworks show between us and the crowd is cheering.

  “I don’t dance,” I tell him.

  “Yeah? Well then maybe this is more your speed,” Jack says as he rushes forward, slamming a fist into my face. It sends me flying backwards a few feet before I catch myself. Flying consists mainly of controlling my flames, and according to the rest of the group I’ve got the good life--I’ve seen Trent fall on his face more often than I can count. Me, though, I come with built-in rocket boosters. I rush forward, tackling Jack off of the board and carrying him into the sky. This is supposed to be our big finish--except someone screams in terror, down below.

  I look down, blinking at the sight of a massive, dog-like monster throwing people out of its way. The norms are scattering, grabbing their children and racing away. A particularly brave mother is covering her baby’s stroller with her body as the dog bears down on them--

  I don’t even think. I just swoop down, slamming straight into the massive beast. “What IS that thing?” I hear Jack ask over the com as I catch sight of him racing into the crowd, grabbing a few of the kids and flying them away before repeating the process.

  “Don’t--know--” I grunt as the dog takes a bite out of my shoulder only to yelp and jerk away at the mouthful of flames. He shakes his head angrily, snorting once before turning to growl at me and pounce again. This dog is massive, almost as tall as I am on all fours, and apparently fireproof. I grab both of his shoulders, lighting him up to test that theory.

  “I think--see how it’s glowing slightly? I think it might be Tank’s dog,” I hear Jimmi say urgently over my earring. “Don’t kill him--someone did this to him!”

  The dog yelps and gnashes at me angrily. It looks like the burning hurts, even though he isn’t catching on fire.

  “Hey, let me have him,” Jack says, coming down and jumping on the dog’s back, his arms wrapped around the massive throat. “I’ve always wanted a dog,” he says, tightening his hold. The dog’s eyes bulge and it starts to choke. I hear police alarms racing towards us and I look over to see the terrified onlookers on the side. They hadn’t been expecting this. A fight between teen supers is one thing, a wild monster with super powers, on the other hand, is something completely different.

  “We have to put him down,” I say.

  “No!” Jimmi and Jack say at the same time.

  “Not for good--just until Aubrey can take a look at him,” I say as the dog starts swaying. It jerks and throws Jack off with a twist of the body, leaving just me to deal with him. “Sorry about this, boy,” I say as I clasp my hands together over my head, taking to the air several feet before coming down--the double fist slamming down on his head.

  The dog falls over, unconscious, hopefully not dead. I let my flames die and watch it for a moment, only breathing as I see his chest moving. “What did they do to you?” I ask, moving closer and touching his side. The dog flinches away, even though he’s unconscious. I want to check it out more, but I have an audience to calm down.

  “Is everyone okay?” I ask as I turn to them. “We’ve got ambulances coming now,” I assure them as I see a few looking bruised and battered. Thankfully I don’t see any dog bites--I blink at the sight of several capes in their civvies mixed into the crowd. I see Ken cradling his arm as if he’d been bitten, cleverly hiding the “wound” from the people surrounding him, asking if he’s okay.

  “What is that thing?” a woman demands, pointing at the unconscious dog next to me. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  “It’s a mutated dog or something, right?” a kid asks, getting a little too close.

  “Stay back--”
I start out, only to jump as the dog started to move. I light up my hands, only to blink as the entire dog is lifted off of the ground and Jack appears beneath it.

  “Next time, Fire Hazard,” he says, slinging the massive dog over his shoulders and stepping onto his surfboard. “Next time you won’t come out of it this easily, got it?” he says before flying away with the dog.

  He totally did that just to steal the dog, didn’t he? I turn as the sirens stop and the ambulances appear. “This man was bitten!” a woman calls, pointing at Ken. “He needs tested for rabies!”

  “This man was thrown into one of the displays!” another calls, pointing at Flint. “He needs to be checked!”

  “Was anyone else hurt?” the cops ask.

  The group moves closer, now that the dog is gone, and starts checking the children. No one was particularly hurt, but the kids are excited beyond belief.

  “COLD STEEL HAS A DOG!” one of the boys shouts. “AWESOME!”

  I groan.

  ***

  So now I’m in the ER of the Hall building, not because Ken got bit by a dog or Flint got slammed into a statue, but because they had to be taken away in special ambulances to keep the facade up--and Jack had brought the dog here. Why? Because his girlfriend works here. He and I are on either side of the massive, unconscious creature, holding him down in case he wakes up while she examines him. Jimmi is standing next to the door, a worried look on her face.

  “I never liked the dog, but I didn’t hate him,” she says. “He’s slobbery and huge--bigger now, even--but he’s not a bad dog. He never bit anyone. Who would do something like this to an innocent dog?”