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

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “It’s the white truck with the toolbox,” the man said.

  The woman asked for a radio to let their people know Brendan and his friends were coming. Brendan handed one to her and waited for her to make the call. He swiped a few energy bars off a table.

  “This is Helen at the drive-in,” she said. “Pete, are you and your team hearing me?”

  The radio was silent. She tried a few more times.

  “We’ve been having some trouble with the radios intermittently,” she said. “We think it’s the disturbances.”

  “You’ll come with us then,” Charlotte said.

  Helen nodded. She went to a soft leather case and opened a pouch. Charlotte stayed close, looking ready to grab her if she tried anything. Helen produced a bottle of pills. She had a hard time opening it, so Charlotte took it from her and got the top off. She shook out three pills into her hand. Helen swallowed them dry.

  The radio crackled. “Hello, base?” came a whisper. “Anyone there?”

  “We’re here. Who’s this?”

  “Airman Guidry. Send help. Everyone here is—”

  They waited, but the transmission ended.

  “Airman Guidry, what’s your status? If you can’t speak click send twice. Hello?”

  Everyone in the tent was staring at the radio in Helen’s hand. It then clicked once, twice, a third time. As Helen was about to say something, a new voice said, “Are you coming to help your man here?”

  “Who is this?”

  “If you’re coming, you’d better make it quick,” the voice said with a purr. “He doesn’t have much time left.”

  They heard a scream. Then the radio went silent.

  “Hello? Hello?” Helen said to the radio. “Please answer.”

  A sinking feeling began twisting inside Brendan’s gut. “We need to go see what’s happening.”

  “You know something, don’t you? Tell me.”

  “Let’s get in the truck and start driving. I’ll try to explain, but you may have a hard time believing me.”

  ***

  Tina backed into one of the RVs when trying to maneuver the large pickup truck out of its spot.

  “Sorry,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “Just drive,” Brendan said.

  She put the truck into gear and drove forward.

  Helen listened while Brendan spoke. He gave the short explanation of the upstream and downstream Earths connected to Helen’s world. Charlotte brooded, clearly disliking the sharing of any information. But Helen appeared especially intent on hearing what he had to say when he brought up Torben. He told her as much as he knew about the warlords and the desolate world they ruled.

  “If a gate opened and someone like that came through,” he said, “they’ll be able to do what we do, but for more than short spurts of time.”

  “What do you mean by short spurts?”

  Charlotte nudged him with her foot, but he continued. “We think the body acclimates to upstream or downstream. Food and water seem to give a temporary nudge from what we’ve experienced. There might also be side effects. There’s so much we don’t know, which makes tampering with this technology so dangerous.”

  For some reason telling Helen felt good. Wasn’t she a scientist, someone who might be able to grasp the big crazy ideas and make sense of it all?

  The woman nodded as if she followed. Brendan wondered if she was patronizing him.

  “There’s so many theories on alternate worlds,” she said. “Most of them are worthless. Moving between them shouldn’t be possible, as the amount of energy required would equal the energy of the entire universe. I need to observe more. I need to see one of these gates.”

  “I hope there isn’t one where we’re going. Hopefully there’s just a crazy person on the radio. Because if it’s someone from upstream that’s bent on hurting people, then we’re in trouble. You saw what we were able to do, and we’re from downstream. Our boost comes from upstream water and a few packs of peanuts. We need to call the police or the army. Are there more air force people you can contact?”

  “Again, the radio troubles. But we’ve heard calls for reservists to report in to help with disaster relief. Our assets at the highway exchange have their own communication to summon backup. We’ll get help soon.”

  Brendan ate some upstream M&Ms and a power bar. He handed the remaining snacks back to Tina and Charlotte. The power bar was incredibly dry, like peanut butter wrapped around dried-out oatmeal. He felt acid rise in his throat after swallowing the thing down. He sipped some water.

  Tina zigged and zagged around folded sections of roadway for a few miles. She frantically oversteered and hit numerous holes and bumps that tossed the passengers about. When Brendan started to say something, she said, “Keep your mouth shut.” But it appeared that they were heading in the right direction.

  Then she slammed the brakes. The truck skidded to a stop.

  A helicopter burned on the side of the roadway. It was on its side with its rotors shattered. Dark smoke churned from the rear, and the cockpit was broken and blackened. The smell of burning oil made Brendan want to gag.

  Tina turned on the truck’s recirculated air. “Well?”

  “Keep going,” Brendan said.

  Charlotte was in a heightened state of vigilance. She looked upward as much as at the few abandoned cars on the side of the road, as if something might come at them from any angle.

  Helen stared at the helicopter in disbelief as they slowly crept past. “How is this possible?” As the front came into full view, she gasped. A motor scooter was lodged in the helicopter’s windshield.

  “Well that didn’t happen by accident,” Tina said.

  Brendan shook his head. “That bike has to weigh over three hundred pounds.”

  Tina set her hand on the parking brake. “Do we pull over and check for survivors?”

  “They’re all dead,” Charlotte said.

  Tina kept driving. In the distance, they could see where the road dipped down and met with the highway. Tall signs stood above gas stations and fast-food restaurants. Several big rigs and other vehicles were parked throughout the numerous lots, but they all looked like they were in a state of disarray. Quite a few blocked the road.

  As they got closer they saw that the highway itself was devoid of moving cars. More vehicles had pulled onto the shoulders. Earthquake damage was visible everywhere in cracked roadways and storefronts.

  Four of the vehicles that looked like the ones they had seen by the drive-in were parked in front of a barbeque restaurant with a sign that advertised live music and a full bar. A pair of highway patrol motorcycles were parked next to them. No lights were visible through the large picture windows of the wood-paneled building. None of the other nearby establishments or traffic lights had power.

  “Looks like this is where your people are,” Brendan said. “Stop here.”

  They got out of the truck. The air had a quiet stillness to it. Brendan smelled the air, testing for any trace of ozone.

  “There’s no one in sight,” Charlotte said. “Where’s the second helicopter?”

  Helen headed for one of the science vehicles. The white truck was larger than the rest, almost like a big rig with a long rear compartment. As Tina and Brendan caught up with her, Brendan almost tripped on something. He looked down at a billiard ball, white with a purple stripe, soiled with dark oil. They rounded the vehicle.

  Three bodies lay on the asphalt, all wearing the same black uniforms. Dark splotches of blood had formed in thick pools around them. Two more billiard balls were on the ground nearby, along with some broken cups and dishes.

  Brendan recoiled. None of this was making sense.

  One of the scientists stood next to the bodies. He was facing the restaurant, his arms outstretched to either side with several saucers and coffee cups stacked in each hand. He was breathing heavily and blanketed in sweat. His arms were trembling.

  “What are you doing?” Helen asked the man.

>   The cups and saucers began to rattle as the man’s shaking increased. He was wheezing from the strain. Helen took a step in his direction. He looked at her and dropped the cups in his right hand.

  “No,” he whispered.

  A solid purple billiard ball came flying out from the restaurant through a broken window and struck the man in the forehead with a wet smack. He collapsed.

  “Told you not to move,” a voice called from inside. It was the voice from the radio.

  Helen screamed.

  Brendan grabbed her and pulled her towards the side of the restaurant away from the window. Another billiard ball rocketed past. The projectile went straight through one of the truck windows.

  A deep laugh came from the restaurant. “I see you out there. Why not come inside?”

  Tina joined Brendan and Helen at the corner of the building. Charlotte was nowhere in sight.

  “Who is that in there?” Helen asked. “He just…he threw a pool ball. It killed that man.”

  “We need to get out of here,” Brendan said.

  “Take her and Charlotte back to our truck and go,” said Tina.

  “What, are you crazy? We all need to leave. You can’t stay here and try to fight him. If that’s Torben, we’re in trouble.”

  “I’ve fought him before. So did you.”

  “We got lucky. And we didn’t stand a chance going toe to toe with him.”

  “If we take him on now, we do. We’re juiced up with stuff further up the chain from where we found him. And we outnumber him. If you won’t stay, then get her to safety.”

  She headed around the back of the restaurant.

  Helen suppressed a sob. “We need weapons.”

  “We don’t know if anything will work,” Brendan said. “The last time we fought, we barely beat him. He’s fast, tough, and knows how to fight. I need to get Charlotte and Tina. Can you wait here out of sight?”

  She nodded.

  Brendan found Tina at the back door to the restaurant. She was crouched low next to a pair of dumpsters and several recycling bins that were stacked high with empty stained boxes and other rubbish. She leaned into the door.

  “Salir de aquí,” she said.

  Two Latino men wearing white aprons ran past, keeping their heads low as if expecting that any moment someone would start shooting. Beyond the doorway was a dark kitchen. Glass broke somewhere inside the restaurant. Tina moved through the door, and Brendan followed. Spilled food and the contents of multiple storage shelves littered the floor. Brendan had no idea whether the mess was from the earthquake or from the invader. Their feet crunched on dry noodles and rice, and it was impossible not to nudge cans and kitchen utensils with their feet. Brendan’s shoes stuck to the tile with each step. The smell of fryer oil and smoke from an in-wall wood barbeque hung in the air. The kitchen felt hot and stuffy.

  “I know you’re out there,” the voice shouted. There followed another crash, like a bottle hitting a wall.

  Tina and Brendan stopped at a pair of swinging double doors. A girl in the room beyond was crying, and he could hear a woman’s voice offering muted consolations. More noises followed. A clattering. Another glass breaking. Then the voice was laughing.

  “I see you!”

  Tina made a quizzical expression. “It’s not us,” she whispered.

  Brendan exhaled sharply. “It’s Charlotte.”

  Tina pushed one swinging door open a few inches. Light streamed into the dining room through the window and open front doors. Tables and chairs were either toppled or pushed about. Two men in tan California Highway Patrol uniforms were laid out on the floor near a counter with a cash register. A bar extended down into the shadowy recesses of the establishment. Next to a knocked-over table two women in waitress uniforms and a young girl were huddled together. From the far end of the bar a shadow was moving, flipping a bottle up in the air and catching it again.

  “Hey,” Tina called to the women in a stage whisper. “Come on. Ven aquí.”

  One of the women let out a short, surprised peep. The figure in the shadows caught the bottle and turned their way. He threw the bottle. It shattered on the ground just past their table.

  “I said shut up.” He took another bottle from underneath the bar and opened it. With a finger held up in the air as if to signal a pause, he chugged the contents down. He then headed their direction. Tina let the door close as gently as possible.

  “If I go around out front and distract him, can you get them out?” Brendan asked.

  “How about I go out front and you rescue the hostages?”

  “Because I suggested it first.”

  On his way towards the back door he grabbed a pair of large steel pans. He tested their heft. They felt light for their size but they’d be better than nothing. Once outside, he jumped on top of the dumpster and then up to the roof.

  “Charlotte,” he called.

  “Over here.”

  He found her on the opposite side of the pitched shingle roof, crouching near the edge.

  “There’s people inside,” he whispered. “I’m going to try drawing him out, and Tina’s going to get them to safety.”

  Charlotte nodded, looking at his pans. “He’s lethal and fast. Keep moving. I’ll do what I can too. Keep apart from each other. Give him two targets.”

  “Yeah. And don’t let him catch you. We got this.”

  He looked down. It wasn’t a high roof but it felt further up than it had before. He wasn’t confident of his landing skills—he could still twist an ankle. With misgivings to spare, he leaped for the scientist’s RV. Without a running start, he was instantly amazed at how far he was moving through the air, but he was still coming up short. He slammed against the vehicle’s side, the pans dropping from his hands. He hit the ground hard.

  The man inside the restaurant whooped. “A new target!”

  Brendan picked up and raised one of the pans as a billiard ball with a maroon stripe shot out from the window. It smacked the pan, leaving it dented. He got up and moved forward, almost tripping on the bodies of the science team.

  “Strike one,” the man called. “Batter up.”

  Another ball streaked in, this one coming low. Brendan dodged it, but before he could recover his balance, a third ball came straight at his face. He swung the pan and the ball went spinning away, striking the wall of the restaurant. Now the second pan had a dent in its center.

  “A second strike! And we’ll call that third one over the foul ball line, so the batter is still up. All our thrower has to do is focus. He’s been walking them all day, but the other batters still haven’t made first base. The ump will have to look in at that. But our new hitter looks like a young player, folks, definitely fresh up from the minors.”

  Brendan looked up where Charlotte had been, but she was gone. Brendan paced to the end of the line of RVs and kept his eye on the open window. Where was she?

  “Why don’t you come on out here?” Brendan called.

  A silence followed. At any moment another lethal projectile might come flying out at him. It took everything he had not to do the sensible thing and take cover. Then he heard a crash and a bellow of pain. Charlotte came sprinting out through the front doors.

  The man that burst from the shadows of the restaurant wasn’t Torben.

  He looked somewhat short and even portly. He wore a ragged unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt over a white T-shirt that didn’t cover his protruding midsection. Blood poured from his nose from whatever had just transpired. But he moved fast, almost catching Charlotte as she vaulted up to the top of an RV and hopped over to the next. The man was right behind her, jumping and leaping. Brendan ran out for a better angle and threw one of the pans. It struck the man across the side of the head, and he faltered.

  He looked at Brendan and grinned. “Unsportsmanlike conduct can get you thrown from the game. Permanently.”

  Charlotte broke a small satellite dish from the RV she was standing on. She hurled it like a frisbee and it flew past th
e man.

  “All right, kids. Fun is fun, but you guys are going to get yourself hurt, and I’m going to be the one to do it.”

  One of the billiard balls was at Brendan’s feet. When he picked it up, the man smiled.

  “That’s the spirit, kid.”

  Brendan threw, aiming for the chest and hoping for anything that wasn’t a complete miss. The man caught it and threw it back in a blur of motion. The ball nailed Brendan in the stomach, doubling him over. Pain exploded through his gut. He couldn’t catch his breath. The man landed next to him.

  “Time to show you how we play in the majors.”

  “They’re all clear,” came Tina’s shout. “Hey, jackass.”

  “How many of you are there?” the man asked. “Did a school bus just let out?”

  Brendan tried to crawl away, but the man grabbed the back of his sweatshirt. “Not so fast.”

  Charlotte was coming up behind him and Tina was closing in from the direction of the restaurant.

  “You kids have got some moves.” A hand clamped on Brendan’s hair and hauled him up. “How about you let old Donnie know how you’re managing to do what you’re doing, or I twist your friend’s head right off?”

  Brendan stomped down on Donnie’s foot with all his might and heard a loud crunch. The man released him and screamed. Brendan ducked just as both girls rushed in. Charlotte hit him with a rifle from one of the downed highway patrolmen. As he staggered, Tina came forward with a water meter wrench and clobbered him with a roundhouse swing. The man fell. He groaned and tried to get up. Charlotte stood poised and ready to swing her rifle again.

  Tina helped Brendan up.

  “Who are you?” Charlotte asked.

  Donnie coughed and spat out a tooth fragment along with some blood. Brendan could smell alcohol and sweat permeate the air around the man. One of his eyes was now colored red from a burst blood vessel. Blood continued to dribble from his nose. Yet he smiled.

  “I’m one of your new neighbors just dropping in. We’re going to have so much fun. And I thought this place would be boring.”

  Brendan saw a discoloration on Donnie’s neck. He reached down to pull at the shirt collar. Donnie grabbed his wrist, but Brendan pushed him away and tore the shirt. A black-blue tattoo marked the side of his neck: two small circles with a hyphen underneath. The same mark Torben had worn.