The Supervillain High Boxed Set: Books One - Three of the Supervillain High Series

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Her hold on his arm tightened. He couldn’t get away. She put her hands on the glove.

  “Let go!” he said.

  But with ease she straightened his arm. He kept his hand locked in a fist. If she wanted the glove, she would have to risk breaking it.

  “Brendan, I’m taking this from you.”

  Lucille came up behind her. She wrapped her arms around Charlotte and put both hands on her face. Charlotte began to struggle, but Brendan grabbed her in a bear hug.

  “Don’t…do this,” Charlotte said.

  “Shhhh,” Lucille whispered. “Be calm. Be calm.”

  They kept hold of her until she stopped struggling. Brendan got away from both of them. He didn’t know if Lucille had just touched him, and if she had, would he know if she was using her talent? What would it feel like? He kept an eye on her as she helped Charlotte regain her footing. Charlotte looked like she was in a daze. She kept shaking her head, looking first at Brendan and then at Lucille.

  “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Brendan said. “You’ve forced us into this position.”

  Charlotte put a hand to her forehead. “You sent him away. They’ll know he’s missing. Then they’ll come looking.” She gave Lucille a confused look. Then she threw up.

  ***

  Only a few of the villagers remained. Many had fled during the fight, and the ones who hadn’t stood around the town hall, their weapons held at their sides, staring in quiet disbelief.

  “Is…he gone?” one woman asked in a whisper.

  Brendan helped Charlotte into the town hall and set her down propped against a wall. She had gagged a few more times and now was battling some sort of violent stomach cramp. Her breathing came in short gasps. Brendan checked the glove. It was powered on again. Lucille would have to get Charlotte to hand over any spare batteries she might have so he could confirm they were dead. But at least the one in the glove was working.

  Lucille was watching Brendan carefully. “You can send us back,” she said.

  “Not exactly. This will knock you to the Earth downstream from ours. You still wouldn’t be home.”

  “But it’s got to be better than this place. Let me use it.”

  “Just hold on. Torben is there now. If we pop up next to him, we’re going to be in the same boat we were in a minute ago. We need to know more first. Have a plan. How big of a whammy did you give Charlotte? Has your talent ever done this to anyone?”

  “It doesn’t normally work on girls. And I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but I don’t have this effect on anyone. Maybe it’s something she ate.”

  The sun was climbing high into the sky. Gray light filtered through the windows, and the air was moving, licking at the hundreds of photos and paper scraps stuck to the wall. All the faces in the pictures were smiling. None appeared scared, their moment of joy separate in time from their final instant of horror they must have suffered during this Earth’s death throes. A few of the eyes seemed to stare straight at Brendan as he knelt. He couldn’t look away. Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers—perhaps some had survived, but to what end? To live under a superpowered monster like Torben?

  His Earth would fight. But if the warlords controlled some version of the gate tech, they could conceivably drop gates anywhere. Earthquakes would follow. Cities would fall. And then when they invaded, no one could stop them.

  All the photos…

  People as innocent as his mother. And millions just like her would suffer unless he did something. But as he looked at the charged glove’s lit LED, he realized the only action he had taken had made matters worse. He had acted to save himself.

  “Pitiful,” Lucille said. She was looking down at Brendan.

  He wiped forming tears from his eyes. “Give me a sec.”

  “Take all the time you want. I’m going back.”

  “I said we need to wait until we actually know what we’re going to do.”

  “Speak for yourself. You’re right; Torben’s there and not here. He’s not back home, either. That’s close enough for a win in my book. I’m going back to the gate inside the cave.”

  “You can’t leave. We have to figure this out.”

  “No, we don’t. This world let itself get messed up. The other Earth will take care of Torben, and I hope they kill him. But it’s not my problem. If you’re not coming with me, I’ll make the swim alone if I have to. But I’m going. See you around, Cesar.”

  “Wait!” But she was walking out the entrance. She brushed past the crooked old man. He had his cricket bat in his hand and turned to watch her leave. When Brendan came to the door, the man stepped back and leaned against the bat. Lucille vanished down the pathway leading to the village. Brendan felt weak. He sat down on the step. Birds started into a spastic competition of trills and hoots.

  He watched the trail in case she returned. He knew he could catch up with her in minutes. Perhaps she was right. His choice was between a suicide mission and going home. He could hand the glove back to Charlotte, let her continue her crusade against everything her father’s tech had brought down on multiple Earths. And what was the point of hanging on to the ring? He wasn’t even sure what it did besides opening some vault. He didn’t even know if the vault existed. Maybe Charlotte didn’t know either. It was all so stupid. They had no way to get there. And by now the headmaster could have accessed it and removed its contents.

  All he had to do was follow Lucille and go back home. He could get the ring from his father. He’d tell him it was all a dumb joke that had played itself out.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Charlotte was still where he had placed her, just inside the town hall. She was rubbing her face with her hands as if trying to wake up.

  “You win,” he muttered.

  “Huh?” the old man said.

  Brendan looked up at him. He’d forgotten the man was standing there. “Go away.”

  “My son was about your age,” the old man said. “When it all happened.”

  Brendan thought he was too tapped out to care. But there was something in the old man’s face, something he hadn’t seen in any of the villagers’ faces before. The man wore a faint smile.

  “He didn’t die in those first weeks. I often thought it would have been better if we all had. It was him that kept me going after we lost my wife and daughter. We had no news from the outside world. The government was supposed to come rescue us, but no one showed up. Then the first warlord came. We lived in Fontana, in the desert up from L.A. Anyone that pretended to hold authority or power was killed. Anyone that fought was killed. My son fought. I watched this warlord survive a gunshot to the chest before he snapped my son’s neck. But he fought. I watched and did nothing.”

  Brendan thought the growing rasp in the man’s voice meant he was about to choke up. But he cleared his throat. This was a man past all tears.

  “They would have killed you too,” Brendan said.

  “Maybe. But maybe not. We heard stories later. A couple of warlords were killed further south. Big enough bullet will bring anything down. But once we became afraid, we stopped trying. And so many others…they see someone with all that strength and power, they become part of it.”

  “You mean people joined them?”

  “Don’t you go judging anyone. People were hungry. An empty belly dictates many things. Who could know that our saviors would become residing evil gods? And now with your world in sight, they’ll abandon us.”

  “Torben’s the only one who knows.”

  The old man laughed. “There’s probably something you should see in his tent.”

  Brendan considered the glove. In a flash he could use it on himself, rescue Tina, fight Torben if possible. Or he could go back to the pool and go home with Lucille. But he couldn’t get the faces in the photos out of his head. His world would be next if the gate was discovered.

  “Okay, I’ll look.”

  ***

  The campfire in the middle
of the ramshackle village had died completely. One woman stood near the tent entrance, a concerned look on her face as Brendan approached with the crooked man following. He thought she was about to speak, but she ran off.

  The inside of the tent was still a mess. Food and belongings were scattered on the floor from when they had fought the warlord.

  “What do you want me to see?”

  The old man pointed to a trunk. The clasp was closed with a simple luggage lock. Brendan found a flatware knife and popped the tiny lock. Inside the trunk were some articles of folded clothing and a large handset radio. Brendan picked it up and turned it on. A small screen popped to life. There were several controls that Brendan didn’t understand.

  “What does he use this for?” Brendan asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

  “For talking to the others.”

  Brendan felt his heart sink. “When did he last use it?”

  “Before he went and tracked you down when you first fled.” The old man looked around the tent like he was seeing it for the first time. “I don’t know what he said. But he’d check in with the head warlord in L.A. most weeks. Guy named Anak who sounds like he might even be in charge of the whole bunch. But this wasn’t a scheduled call.”

  “He told them about us.”

  The old man nodded.

  Brendan set the radio aside and picked up a large Torben-sized leather jacket. Emblazoned on the back was a lizard with fire spouting out of its mouth and eyes. Desert Warlords was written in fanciful script. Several patches adorned the arms, including a set of wings, a bleeding eye, and a 1% on an orange oval.

  “They’re just ordinary criminals,” Charlotte said. She came into the tent and looked inside the open trunk. “But with the power of being from an upstream world.”

  The old man began packing a pillowcase with food.

  “What are you doing?” Brendan asked.

  “Getting some supplies. The others will come here first before looking for you and Torben. It would be best if you don’t get found. I’d imagine it will go badly for anyone when they get here.”

  “Warn everyone,” Charlotte said.

  The man stared at her blankly. “Can we…”

  “No. It’s not possible.”

  He nodded, looked around, but saw nothing else worth taking. “I’ll warn them.” He exited the tent.

  “What was that about?”

  “We can’t take them with us,” Charlotte said. “And they can’t learn where the gate is. It would create too many problems.”

  “Why? Why would it? Why do you get to decide that? If these people are just going to get murdered…”

  “Because it’s not their Earth.” She looked like she wanted to say more.

  “Kind of like mine isn’t yours. For someone who’s convinced crossing between worlds is such a dangerous thing, you sure do it a lot.”

  “Are you going to help or not? It would be easier for you to follow Lucille and make sure she gets back.”

  “I’m not discussing it anymore. I’m going. You need to decide if you’re going to help me.”

  Charlotte began to sift through the food that hadn’t been spilled. One tipped platter held strips of cold gray meat that looked unsoiled. She held it out to Brendan. It looked like steak.

  “You want me to eat that?”

  “Every bit helps even the odds. We’ll be stepping into the Earth downstream from yours. It will be like the water Nurse Dreyfus gave you. You’ll be stronger. But Torben will be stronger still.”

  He put a piece of meat into his mouth. It was dry, chewy, and a bit gamy. Drinking some water helped it go down. He was about to eat a second piece when he noticed Charlotte not having any.

  “I already ate. If you’re ready, it’s time to go.”

  20. Downstream Movers and Shakers

  The late morning sun hung in the same position in the sky. Brendan found himself standing in the middle of a lawn where sprinklers sprayed out clouds of water onto grass and concrete alike. Planter boxes with small trellises and white flowered vines lined a walkway that led to the front door of a large two-story home. An enormous yellow dog was visible through a picture window. It began to bark.

  When he looked towards the street, the sunlight blinded him. He shielded his eyes and looked around. Charlotte waited for him by the front gate. “Let’s go,” she said.

  The glove on his hand was out of power. It had taken a little over a minute for it to charge after he had sent Charlotte over. He hadn’t been certain if touching himself with the device would even work.

  Sirens wailed from the distance. Down on the corner sidewalk, a few people were standing and staring down the block. They paid Brendan and Charlotte little mind.

  “Are we here?” Brendan asked. “It looks just like our Earth. Mine, anyways.”

  He paused by a mailbox. He pushed it. It didn’t budge. He gripped a corner but it didn’t bend, either. The goat meat lay heavy in his stomach.

  “It doesn’t work that fast,” Charlotte said. “You’ll need more time.”

  The sirens were getting louder.

  “We don’t have time.”

  Dark smoke was rising above the houses in the direction of the sirens. A police car sped past, engine gunning, lights shining their brilliant whites, reds, and blues.

  Brendan started running. Charlotte called for him to wait, but she kept up. The next street over was the cul-de-sac that led to the headmaster’s home. Two cops crouched behind three police cars that blocked the street. A fourth police cruiser was flipped on its roof in front of Sperry Appleton’s house. A small crowd of bystanders stood and watched, many with their phones out recording. One cop spoke into his shoulder-mounted radio. Further up, another police officer with red hair had his gun out and was taking cover by a parked minivan.

  There came a loud crash. Smoke poured from the headmaster’s house through a broken front picture window. A large leather chair was thrown out on the front lawn amidst shattered glass. Brendan ran forward.

  “Get away from the house!” the red-haired cop shouted. He waved Brendan off but stayed firmly behind his cover. Brendan heard panic in the man’s voice. Several parked cars nearby were smashed in. Dogs were barking. An electric two-seater car was on its side at the dead end, its hazard lights blinking. The incoming sirens were getting louder. The cop kept yelling.

  But then he heard Tina’s voice. “Is that the best you got?”

  She stood at a busted-out upstairs window, her back to the street. She ducked and there was a flurry of motion obscured by billowing lace sheers. Then Torben came sailing out through the window, his arms flailing. He struck the lawn hard. At first Brendan thought he was knocked out, but he soon rose, wiping dirt and grass from his face. He roared with rage.

  “Kid, get out of here,” the cop yelled.

  This caught Torben’s attention. He looked up and his eyes locked on Brendan. A smile crossed his face. “You’re here.”

  “Hey, jerk-off,” Tina called. She threw something that smacked Torben in the head. He flinched and turned her direction. The object, a large stone ashtray, bounced and rolled without breaking.

  “Brendan, where did this guy come from?” Tina shouted.

  Torben grabbed the large chair and threw it up at the window as if it were weightless. Tina ducked back into the house as the chair impacted against the window frame. Torben was about to march back inside when Brendan picked up the ashtray. He tested its heft, took a breath, and chucked it with all his might. It nailed the warlord between the shoulder blades.

  Torben grunted and began moving towards Brendan.

  Large gray rocks lined a nearby bed of flowering ground cover. Brendan picked up a couple and threw one. Torben barely flinched when the stone hit him, reacting as if a horsefly had bitten him.

  “You have any weapons or anything?” he asked Charlotte, backing up.

  “What, now you want to start making a plan? Let’s get him away from the houses.”

&n
bsp; They ran. From behind them came the crack-crack-crack of gunshots. Brendan stopped and turned. The red-haired cop was up and discharging his weapon, but Torben ran, ducking behind the flipped police car. He pushed the vehicle forward towards the officer. The cop dropped his pistol and scrambled out of the way as the car crunched into the minivan. Torben was laughing. Whether he had been struck by any of the bullets, Brendan couldn’t tell.

  “Is this your world, boy?” Torben asked. “I like it.”

  The two other cops had drawn their weapons and were moving forward. “Get back!” one ordered. He moved Brendan and Charlotte behind them and motioned them down the street. Torben waited by the flipped car. The cops opened fire. Each shot made Brendan’s ears ring. Torben ducked behind the wrecked car. There came the sound of rending metal. Both cops stopped to reload.

  “Get down!” Brendan called.

  A car door came sailing in their direction, slicing through the air. He and Charlotte got behind the police vehicles and the cops dove aside. The door struck a parked car’s windshield and embedded itself into the spidered glass.

  “Brendan!” Tina shouted. She vaulted the fence between two neighboring front yards with ease. The closest cop stared as she sprang up to the top of a parked car next to him. He tried to grab her to pull her down but she hopped to the asphalt.

  “Tina, are you okay?” Brendan asked.

  Her fist shot out and drove into Charlotte’s midsection. Charlotte doubled over and gasped. “Better now.”

  The cop was about to say something, but then he grabbed Tina and Brendan and pulled them down. A large object came hurtling in their direction. It was the red-haired police officer. His body flew as if it had been shot out of a cannon. He passed over their heads and hit the pavement with a bounce, sliding to a halt by a team of scattering firefighters. There followed screams, panicked calls, and then an odd silence. The firefighters stared with looks of disbelief at the limp man who had just been hurled a hundred feet. An EMT was the first to move to help the downed officer. That broke the rest out of their shock and others rushed to help.