Dominic did as he was ordered, trying to take quick stock of his surroundings. This alley was a dead end and neither building had a fire escape he could scale. The blinding lights meant he had no idea how many officers were on the scene, but chances were high they’d just send one car to investigate. That meant two officers, and he could probably get away from them.
As he approached, he saw he was right. Two officers, one car. The alley ended at a sidewalk and they were stopped just past that sidewalk on the asphalt. He would have enough space to get past them and hopefully manage to clear out quickly.
“Thought you were pretty smart, huh?” asked one of the officers. He was middle-aged and a bit soft around the stomach, so he wouldn’t pose too much of a problem. The other guy, though, he was tall and broad-shouldered, probably played varsity football in high school. If Dominic Vaughn made a run for it, he’d need an escape route quickly, because this guy looked more than capable of running him down.
The linebacker stepped behind Dominic and grabbed one of his hands, twisting it behind his back. Dominic cringed. He slapped one handcuff around Dominic’s wrist while the donut-muncher got right in the thief’s face with a cocky grin. He wanted to gloat, and Dominic took advantage of his lack of foresight, head-butting him.
His partner reacted slowly, but Dominic twisted free from his grasp and darted down the street. The linebacker’s footsteps echoed behind him, increasing in volume—he was gaining. Dominic needed to take a chance down one of these alleys, but there was the risk of another dead end. If he didn’t though, the linebacker would definitely run him down within a matter of seconds.
Dominic made his decision and took a sharp right, darting into the alley. The linebacker nearly stumbled to slow down. Dominic cursed when he saw that it was, indeed a dead end. Worse, he heard a familiar click from behind him. The linebacker now had his weapon drawn.
“On your knees with your hands behind your head!”
Dominic slowly dropped to his knees and muttered, “Well, this is just perfect.” He closed his eyes and waited for the linebacker to restrain him. The ground suddenly felt different. And he couldn’t hear the cop’s footsteps any more, and he was certainly not being restrained.
Dominic opened his eyes. Wherever he was, it definitely was not the alley in the storefront plaza. He was in a park, kneeling on the grass. Dominic pulled off his mask, shaking out his chin-length, black hair. And the only thing he could say was, “What the hell just happened?”
***
The Cleveland Fire Department rushed to put out the blaze that had consumed the small townhouse. The call came in around eight o’clock at night, and they responded within a few minutes. The high-pressure hose was brought out to quell the flames stretching out above the roof. Neighbors vacated their homes and gathered around. Lieutenant Delgado was fortunately assisted in that by members of the Cleveland Police, who arrived to assist with forming a perimeter.
“Tony!” Greg Nash of the police force ran up to him as Delgado’s men worked on the fire, quickly unfurling the hose and turning their water tanks on the blazing building. “Any idea what caused this?”
Delgado shook his head. “Blaze grew so fast. We responded in record time, but it was an inferno out here.”
“Any survivors?”
Delgado motioned to the charred, smoking house. There were still flames inside. “In that? I don’t think—”
The twenty-year veteran firefighter was silenced as he saw a silhouette against the flames, running through the front door. It was a man, completely naked and hairless. His entire body was coated in carbon, making him nearly pitch black. He stumbled from the home, collapsing on the front lawn, coughing. One of the firefighters helped him up, getting him over to the ambulance. He was immediately covered with a blanket and given oxygen. A female paramedic examined his body while Delgado and Nash approached.
“How is he?” asked Delgado.
“Not a mark, sir. Some smoke inhalation, but that’s it.”
Nash crinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”
“Burnt hair,” said Delgado without missing a beat, then to the man. “Are you alright? Any pains? Loss of sensation?”
The man breathed from the oxygen tank while shaking his head. He took another few breaths and pulled the mask from his face. “Wh-what happened?”
“We were hoping you could tell us, sir,” said Nash. “What’s your name?”
“Clarence. Clarence Black.”
Neither Delgado nor Nash felt the need to comment on how appropriate the surname presently was. “What’s the last thing you remember, Mr. Black?”
“Just…watching the game. Cavaliers were g—” His speech was interrupted by a coughing fit. Clarence covered his mouth and then took another breath from the tank. “They were gettin’ the shit kicked out of them. I was yelling at the TV and then…”
He trailed off and both Delgado and Nash watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Then what?” Delgado pressed.
Clarence looked up at them and for the first time, both men noticed that not only was Clarence Black bald, but he had no eyebrows or lashes. “I got…hot.”
***
A “back to school” party at one of the University of Central Florida’s fraternity houses seemed like a good idea at the time to freshman Nina Murillo, but now she got the feeling that she had a bit too much to drink. Standing at around five-foot-two, the nineteen-year-old girl didn’t exactly have a body built for a high alcohol tolerance. And the guy she’d been talking to for the past hour was “nice” enough to keep refilling her cup whenever she got close to the bottom. He was a junior, she thought, but couldn’t remember his name. When the strawberry-blond frat boy handed her a fresh cup, she backed away while shaking her head.
“Sorry, think I better go back to the dorm…” Her words slurred a bit as she spoke.
“Already? C’mon, it’s still early,” he said.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Uh-uh. Definitely time to go sleep…” She opened her eyes and looked up, then amended her statement. “Make that…throw up…then sleep.”
“One more drink.” He pushed the red, plastic cup towards her.
Nina looked at the foamy head of the beer and reached for the cup, but then stood and said, “Nope, can’t. Had way too much already.”
He stood as well, shrugging a bit. “What’s one more gonna hurt?”
“No thanks.”
He was exasperated when he said, “It’s just one. Christ’s sake…”
Nina had grown irritated by his persistence. “I. Said. NO!” She placed her hands against his chest and pushed, just intending to put some distance between the two of them. But instead, the blond junior was knocked back so forcefully, he was thrown against the keg…on the other side of the room. The house went silent and Nina’s hands covered her mouth in shock. All eyes turned to her and once she noticed this, she ran out the front door. People easily parted for her, granting her a wide berth.
One boy with a patchy beard and bloodshot eyes looked up from the couch, a rolled joint between his fingers. He stared at the knocked-over keg, which had begun leaking beer. “Dude…party foul.”
CHAPTER 3
Leonard Thorne walked through the corridors of the West Wing, clad in a green military uniform, the silver eagle indicating his rank. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair cropped close to his head and a thick mustache. He was met by a man named Joseph Ramsey, who stood almost a full foot shorter than him. Ramsey wore a black suit with matching tie and a small pin portraying a waving US Flag affixed to his lapel. Thorne brought his legs together and raised his right hand to his forehead in salute.
“Thank you for coming down here, Colonel,” said the Secretary of Defense. “The President requested you by name to help us deal with this matter.”
“I still don’t quite understand what this matter actually is, Mr. Secretary.”
“You’ll be briefed by the President himself.” Ramsey tur
ned from Thorne and began walking. His stride was quick, but Thorne easily kept pace. “Frankly, this is a highly sensitive topic, and we still have no answers.”
Ramsey led the way into the Oval Office, which was quite busy at the moment. Thorne took a mental stock of the people who were currently in the room. The White House Chief of Staff, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Directors of both the National Security Agency and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Secretaries of State, Homeland Security and, strangely enough, Health and Human Services. These men and women were seated on the couches in front of the desk of the President and standing before all of them was the Commander in Chief, Curtis Hayworth. Thorne noticed one other man, standing in the corner, whom he had never seen before.
“Colonel, thank you for responding,” said Hayworth.
“I serve at the pleasure of the President,” said Thorne. “Although if I may, I’m not exactly sure what this is in regards to.”
The President gestured to the Secretary of Health and Human Services. “Amy, you wanna fill Col. Thorne in?”
Amy Petersen rose, adjusting her thin glasses and flipping through the documents. “Over the past several months, there have been a number of…strange conditions reported.”
“What sort of conditions?” Thorne looked at the military advisors. “Has there been some sort of biological attack?”
“That’s what makes this so strange…the conditions aren’t necessarily harmful,” said Petersen.
Thorne arched his eyebrows. “Pardon me, Madame Secretary, but what sort of conditions are we talking about?”
Petersen sighed. “Well…there’s no clear pattern of symptoms. There are a multitude of different cases. To give you some examples, a man in Hawaii collapsed after being exposed to sensory overload. A man in Ohio walked out of a burning house covered in carbon and every bit of hair burnt off without a single injury. When he spoke to authorities, he said he was angry while watching a sporting event and then, and this is a direct quote, ‘got hot.’ That was when the fire erupted.”
Thorne cocked an eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re suggesting this man’s anger triggered the fire.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Colonel. And there’s more. A woman in Washington fell into a coma, right after witnesses claim she said she could hear everyone’s thoughts. And a girl in Wisconsin…transformed…” Her voice began to trail off.
“What do you mean ‘transformed’?” asked Thorne.
Petersen handed the report to the Colonel. “She…well, changed…into a-a…” Petersen swallowed, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “…A popular singer.”
Thorne looked up at her incredulously. He flipped through the report and read exactly what Petersen had. Then he read it again to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
“And those are only a few of the cases that have been reported. And those are just in this country,” said Janet Skinner, the Secretary of State. “I’ve been speaking to our allies and this seems to be a global phenomenon.”
Thorne handed Petersen the report. “So what exactly are we looking at here?”
“We’ve got a man here who might be able to answer that question, Colonel,” said Hayworth. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Howard McCabe of the National Human Genome Research Institute. Doctor?”
Howard McCabe was the man Thorne hadn’t recognized. He was bald, save for the thin, white beard, and was the only one not dressed in a suit, but rather slacks and a sweater-vest, with rimless glasses. “Thank you, Mr. President. We’ve examined DNA samples taken by several of these reported cases, and there seems to be a distinct change.”
“What sort of change?” asked Thorne.
“There’s been a new element introduced into the human population, something that seems to have altered us on a genetic level.”
Thorne folded his arms across his chest. “How’s that possible? What caused it?”
McCabe chuckled slightly as he shook his head. “I haven’t the first clue.”
“Who cares how it happened?” asked Louis Walsh of the National Security Agency. “What we need to know is how do we reverse it?”
McCabe shuffled his feet a little and stared down at his shoes. “Well…I don’t think that’s possible. You see, at the Institute, we’ve compared DNA samples of these…umm…I hesitate to use the word ‘infected’, but…”
“It’s fine, Doctor. Continue,” said Hayworth.
“Yes, well we’ve compared those samples to…ahem…normal samples and we’ve found remarkable similarities. Or to put it another way, the genetic trigger that’s responsible for these…symptoms…is now present in all of us, at least as far as we can tell. Humanity has undergone a radical change.”
“You’re saying this is going to happen to all of us?” asked Ramsey.
“No, not necessarily,” said McCabe. “What I’m saying is that it’s there. Whether or not it activates or remains dormant is something I can’t say. And I have no idea what could trigger activation.”
Hayworth circled around his desk and slumped into his chair, but Walsh continued speaking. “Mr. President, we have to do something about this. There are people out there who now possess incredibly destructive power. If we don’t act now and—”
Hayworth banged his palm on the surface of his desk. “And what exactly would you have me do? Round up American citizens?”
“Mr. President, they pose a threat to themselves and others,” said Walsh. “What else would you do?”
“A quarantine might actually be an effective way to study them and see if a cure can be discovered,” said Petersen.
“And what happens when they decide they don’t want to be quarantined?” asked Thorne. “How are you going to restrain someone who can melt the handcuffs?”
“Let’s not forget the rest of the world,” said Ramsey. “Like Janet said, this isn’t restricted to the US.”
“We could be looking at a new kind of arms race,” said Skinner. “Whatever response we make, it will have to be one that takes that into account, in addition to the civil rights of American citizens.”
Hayworth rubbed his chin, turning his chair slightly so he could look out through the windows. The entire room of advisors grew silent as they waited for the President’s word on what sort of action was to be taken. Finally he said to all of them, “I’ve got a lot to think about. What we should do for the moment is review the information we have and consult with other world leaders. You’re all dismissed.”
The room remained silent for another minute, and then the advisors all broke out into a noisy chatter, throwing their opinions all at once. Hayworth sighed and stood, then leaned over his desk and shouted, “Quiet!”
The conversation came to an almost instant halt at the sound of the President’s deep baritone. Both palms supported his weight on the surface of his desk and he tilted his head up to stare at them all with steel-gray eyes. “You’re. All. Dismissed. And that’s final.”
The advisors gathered their materials and papers and began to file out of the office. Thorne moved with them all as well, but Ramsey gripped his shoulder. When Thorne looked at the Secretary, Ramsey silently indicated it was better if the Colonel lingered a little bit longer. The room quickly emptied and Ramsey closed the door behind the last advisor.
As of now, the only people in the Oval Office were Thorne, Ramsey, McCabe and the President. Hayworth sat back down and let out an alleviating sigh. He rubbed his eyes slightly, it was clear to Thorne that the man hadn’t gotten much sleep during all this.
“Colonel, Doctor, I’d like the two of you to sit,” said Hayworth. Both Thorne and McCabe responded, each taking their seat on a separate couch. Ramsey crossed from the door to behind the President’s desk, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“For what it’s worth, Colonel, I agree with you,” said Hayworth. “Internment of American citizens is a troubling prospect for a number of reasons, and history never regards it favorably. Ev
en if I wanted to do it, like you said, you can’t keep people like this imprisoned for long. Plus, it’d be a veritable declaration of war for those nutcases in anti-government militias. And Dr. McCabe said there’s no guarantee of a way to reverse this.
“That being said, it’s clear this development will pose a massive risk to global stability. We need a way to deal with potential super-powered threats, both at home and abroad.”
The picture was beginning to come into focus for Leonard Thorne. All this time, he had trouble discerning exactly why he’d been summoned into this meeting. He held the rank of colonel, but his primary responsibility was the oversight of a classified research program that had been kept quiet for decades.
“Mr. President, if the United States government began utilizing these people for military purposes, other countries will follow,” said Thorne. “And unlike weapons of mass destruction, no funding is necessary to dispatch these people across the world.”
“You’re absolutely right, and that’s why we are going to work with the United Nations to draft a global treaty banning the military application of persons of mass destruction,” said Hayworth. “But to be honest, I don’t trust half the countries in the UN to abide by shit.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” asked Thorne.
“Superhuman threats are inevitable. Not only from other nations, but also from terrorists. What America needs is a response team.” Hayworth gestured in McCabe’s direction with his hand as he spoke. “The Doctor and I have already discussed this and he’s onboard, but what I need is someone heading up this operation.”
Thorne stroked the edges of his mustache. “And you think I’m that person?”
“The Zenith Project,” said Ramsey. “With his help, you should have no trouble locating suitable candidates for this response team.”
“Sir, wouldn’t America establishing its own superhuman response team directly violate a ban on persons of mass destruction?”
“That’s why, like the Zenith Project, this will remain completely off-the-books,” said Hayworth. “The United States government is to have no public association with this organization. For all intents and purposes, you will be viewed as vigilantes.”
Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure Page 2