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

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The body was still in the basement workshop, and it was starting to smell. Brendan tried not to think about what lay on the far side of the dark room as he considered the box that would reset the gate. The building itself groaned as if it were considering a full collapse. The sound subsided, but small trickles of dust continued to drift down like flurries of snow.

  The silence was worse.

  Brendan felt his own breathing was too loud as he strained his ears. Had something shifted inside the lab? He could hear only the hum of the generators from down the hallway. The illumination from the flashlight made him feel claustrophobic, as if the world of darkness would close in unless he played the light all around him.

  Focus.

  He rubbed the ring. What would Anak truly gain from seeing where the gate could lead? Possibly everything. If Brendan hid the ring, the vault would never be accessed. And then Anak would have him killed. But what was his life if losing it saved so many others? His stomach was in a twist. But in the end, he did what he had to do to save his own skin.

  “Shut up,” he said to the darkness and the corpse that lay somewhere in the shadows.

  He pushed the ring into the box, resetting the headmaster’s machine.

  “Goodbye, Donnie.”

  ***

  Anak and Rolf waited in the outer office. Rolf was absentmindedly going through the contents of the secretary’s desk drawer.

  “Boss thought you might try something.” Rolf snorted.

  Anak gestured for Brendan to go into the headmaster’s office. “After you,” he said with impeccable grace.

  Brendan hit the three toggles on the machine and stood back. He waved both hands in the air, hoping the gesture would be seen as impatience and they wouldn’t figure out he was using the ring to turn the gate on. Anak hadn’t mentioned the ring. Perhaps Charlotte had left that part out.

  The air began to ripple.

  Anak still stood in the doorway. He hung on to the doorframe and looked up and around as the gate opened.

  “Amazing,” he said. He patted the doorframe as if to confirm it was solid. “My design is a bit less precise. I’ve calculated about a three percent success rate even if my sampling is small. And once my gate opens, my machine is on a countdown. This one can be used over and over, amiright?”

  “So there’s a chance when you turn your machine on, it doesn’t work?”

  It explained so much. The earthquakes weren’t just from the gate opening. Anak’s was more like the headmaster’s early prototype that had sent Charlotte to Brendan’s Earth, but even worse. No wonder there was so much destruction, and all from the flip of a switch.

  “It gets us to where we want to go,” Anak said, an edge to his voice. “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.” To Rolf he said, “Wait here. Touch nothing.”

  Anak took Brendan by the arm and led him through. Brendan got him to pause long enough to pick up a figurine of an old-fashion deep sea diver helmet.

  The row of mirrors unfurled before them like twisting reflective ribbons. Brendan would have fallen but for Anak holding him. The sense of disorientation faded as they both gained their footing. Anak’s mouth was open, but he wasn’t speaking. He released Brendan and stepped forward to the closest frame. Through it was the office window, but one where the glass was intact and the floor wasn’t covered with loose debris. The frame directly across the row was dark. From the next one in line, another Anak and Brendan stared back at them. Anak went for a closer look.

  Brendan set the helmet figurine down to mark their own door.

  Anak was nodding. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, yes, yes. It’s marvelous. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of. It’s not just linear. It couldn’t have been. Worlds go in every direction, not just forward and back. We could go anywhere.”

  The Anak in the reflection was moving his mouth almost in synch, but not quite. The two Anaks reached out and touched one another, but the fingers did not make contact.

  “How do I cross over?” Anak asked.

  The Anak in the reflection was asking the other Brendan a similar question.

  “You don’t, exactly. We choose a frame. We can then set the machine to that world and open a gate there.”

  Anak nodded as if he understood. The Anak in the reflection had seized Brendan and was shaking him. It felt surreal to watch. The other Brendan had his hands up defensively. Then both Anaks made eye contact with each other and smiled.

  “I guess the other you wasn’t so forthcoming,” Anak said. “So what happens when we encounter our double? We’ve seen it before, but never near a gate. So many have speculated that it would be impossible, but matter is just matter.”

  “From what we’ve learned, nothing happens. Some worlds don’t even have other versions of us. Some do with minor differences. Some with big changes. It gets confusing.”

  “Of course it would.” The sheer joy on the man’s face was that of a child at an amusement park. Anak could barely contain himself. He moved further along the row of mirrors, examining each in turn. Many were obscure, where perhaps the window curtains were drawn and the office was too dark to see anything. One was filled with smoke. But a dozen other Anaks with as many Brendans were visible from where he stood.

  I brought him here. Am I the one common thread?

  But as they moved further along he saw Charlotte as Anak’s escort, and then more Charlottes, and in these frames he wasn’t with them. He wondered if in those instances he had died, or didn’t exist at all.

  Anak was further away. He wasn’t walking that quickly, but he appeared to be receding as if caught in a slow-moving current as the mirrors continued to multiply. Then Anak noticed, and he hurried back towards Brendan. It was the dreamlike sequence again; the man was running, but the ground conspired to prevent his progress. Finally he lunged forward and clung to Brendan for support.

  He whooped. “It’s too wonderful. I want to see another world. I want to see all of them.”

  He almost collapsed in Brendan’s arms. Brendan sat him down. Anak took his glasses off and struggled to catch his breath. Around them the hallways of mirrors were splitting in every direction, curling upward and back like helices. Brendan didn’t share the same sense of wonder. It was all too alien, and he felt like an intruder looking in on something that he wasn’t meant to see or comprehend. This was the stuff of whatever gods worked behind the scenes.

  Anak doesn’t belong here either.

  “I’m ready,” Anak said. “This place changes everything. Show me how to open a gate. The things I can learn…the improvements to my design. Show me.”

  Anak rose and touched the closest gate. His hands slid on the invisible barrier that separated him from the empty office beyond.

  “This one. The world is intact through here.”

  Brendan overcame his own rising sense of vertigo. “Are you sure that’s the one you want? Once it’s selected, it’s locked in.”

  “We’ll go through and see.”

  Brendan went past the gate Anak chose and looked at the other closest ones. The mirror filled with smoke was still nearby, or at least one of them was. Were these doors to worlds that would have suffered such calamity without the gates? Brendan doubted it. Whatever inferno was burning on the other side obscured even the office window. “Look closely at your gate.”

  Anak stared deeply. “I’ve chosen this one. What else is there to do?”

  “The instruction manual says to make as many observations as possible.” As casually as possible, Brendan put the ring against the frame of the gate with the smoke. Then he returned to Anak.

  “Instruction manual? Are you yanking my chain?” His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, I just…this is only the second time I’ve seen this myself. It’s too amazing. Overwhelming.”

  Anak caught Brendan by the wrist and pulled his hand up. He stared at the ring. Brendan tugged his hand away.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a ring
my dad gave me. It belonged to my great-grandfather. He was a Mexican Freemason.”

  “Give it here.”

  “No. It’s the only thing I have left.”

  “Hand it over, or I’m going to have Rolf really expand your horizons, if you know what I mean.”

  Brendan felt the ring. The metal contours revealed nothing of whatever information it now lodged, assuming it still worked. Would Anak even know what to do with it? I can’t take the chance that he might figure it out.

  Again Anak grabbed his hand, but this time Brendan pushed the man back with ease. They both stared at each other. How did I do that? He looked at the strange space around them. They weren’t on an upstream or downstream Earth; they weren’t on any Earth. The water and alcohol the nurse had given him shouldn’t grant him any advantage. But Anak had no edge on Brendan, either. Judging by his expression, Anak appeared to understand that too.

  They both raced for the portal back. Anak moved quickly for someone who appeared so frail. He was shouting “Rolf! Rolf!” when Brendan dove for him and caught him by the ankle, sending him sprawling. Anak’s fingers toppled the diver helmet figurine set in front of their gate.

  Brendan pulled himself on top of the warlord and drove a fist into the man’s stomach. It was a weak blow, but Anak groaned and feebly tried to swat Brendan away. Brendan slapped him, then slapped him again, this time a backhand with his cast. This is the head of the warlords, the leader of a gang that tortured, murdered, and looted its way across three Earths? He felt a scream of raw rage welling up in his throat, but “Why?” was all he could manage.

  A coughing spasm wracked Anak. He held his hands up, trying in vain to ward off another blow. Blood ran from the man’s nostrils. The man was trembling. Brendan got off him.

  “I had to know if my theories worked,” Anak said. He wiped his nose. “When a gate actually opened, I understood what was possible. I never knew we wouldn’t be able to come back.”

  Brendan looked at the other nearby mirrors. He had witnesses. Other Anaks and other Brendans watched. At least two other Brendans had their Anaks in some sort of hold, but not all. In one, Anak had a knife out. Brendan knew they couldn’t hear him, but he spoke to his other selves. “End it. He’s not stronger than you here.”

  “Let’s work together,” Anak said. “With your help we can perfect my machine. With yours working, we can explore beyond humanity’s wildest dreams. This is the start of a new age. The discoveries from here on out won’t be accidental. We could skim the cream from other Earths, share progress, find out which ones cured cancer, solved war. Imagine it.”

  Brendan pulled him up and gave him a hard shove down the hallway. Anak stumbled forward and fell.

  “I’ve seen what you do,” Brendan said. “You can’t be trusted with this. I don’t know if anyone can.”

  He stepped through the frame back to Not-Earth.

  Rolf was just standing there watching. Judging by his relaxed demeanor, he hadn’t heard any of Anak’s cries for help. He eyed Brendan suspiciously. “Where’s the boss?”

  Brendan gestured back at the gate. “He collapsed and needs our help.”

  Rolf pointed his rifle. “Go on. I’ll follow.”

  “Hurry. He’s coughing up a lot of blood.”

  Brendan stepped back into the hall of mirrors. Anak had gotten up and was hobbling in his direction. Rolf appeared next to Brendan, and his expression became one of amazement as he looked around at the swirling array of gates.

  “Grab him,” Anak cried, his voice cracking. “Shoot him. Don’t let him step back through.” He stumbled forward, but the hallway expanded and stretched. He appeared to be receding, caught on the ever-expanding tide of possible universes. More gates appeared showing other versions of Anak running, tripping, or falling. But this Anak wasn’t distracted. He regained his balance and ran.

  Rolf was frozen in place looking at himself in a frame, a mirror in which his reflection was different in the smallest details. The Brendan next to the other Rolf grabbed for the rifle. That Rolf twisted and pushed and regained control of the weapon. He turned it in place and put his finger to the trigger.

  “No,” Brendan said as he watched himself get shot.

  Rolf watched too. Then he snapped out of his momentary paralysis and reached for Brendan, but Brendan pushed him away. Rolf had a genuine look of surprise on his face as Brendan stepped backwards through the gate.

  Brendan fell onto the headmaster’s machine and slapped at the toggles. All three clicked. The gateway closed.

  A laugh escaped his mouth. Then he sagged as he looked through the window. Not-Earth—Charlotte’s world—was worth saving. Without Anak, the warlords’ progression was stopped. But they were still here and more were coming.

  He thought of what Anak and Rolf were facing, a banishment not only from the worlds they had invaded, but from reality itself. Each world had its own connecting conduits; there would be no escape. They could only wander and watch their other selves. Possibly other Anaks and Rolfs had overcome other Brendans in their struggles, or had even caught him before he could escape and turn off the machine. It was impossible to know. Just thinking of the possibilities made his head hurt. But from their perspective, the gate back here was dark and would never open again. The thought should have comforted him. But for now he felt numb.

  Brendan began to pull the machine apart.

  23. Gate Crash

  Brendan was in the basement when he heard the motorcycles. The Humvee had inexplicably left its escorts behind. Perhaps Anak had given them orders to go scout or they had become distracted by something. But they were here now. The large Harley-Davidsons rumbled past the closest window and continued towards the front of the admin building. The Humvee was still parked just outside, so it was no mystery where their boss had gone.

  Brendan continued to work.

  He pried off the stainless-steel sides of the box that would reset the machine. With Anak’s multimeter he confirmed the box had power. The conduit was delivering electricity to a converter that then delivered it to the low-voltage components.

  He tripped the breakers and after a minute heard the generators whir to a stop.

  Outside the motorcycles went silent. A gunshot broke the air. It echoed throughout the tiled hallway. Silence followed. Had it been some sort of signal? If they were radioing Rolf, he wouldn’t be responding. The admin building was large and it would take time for two people to search it, especially in the dark.

  His hands were slick with sweat as he disconnected the box from its power source. He was amazed that it didn’t have any other physical connection to the gate machine in the office. How is that possible? He adjusted the flashlight and held the box in its beam. The box was so light, not much heavier than a toaster oven. He indulged in a moment of appreciation of the neat and clean design the headmaster had executed. There, nested in behind the power converter, was a micro transmitter. The box’s only connection to the gate was via radio waves.

  He dug through some nearby mounds of electrical supplies and found several power cords that would do. With pliers, he stripped one and connected it to the exposed wires where the conduit had been attached. The box could now be plugged into an outlet. He upended a plastic crate and put the box in it along with as many tools as he could find.

  Time to go.

  One window near a locked door that led out was in reach. He brushed away the remaining safety glass and shoved the crate outside. He then pulled himself up and through the window. It was the easiest pull-up he had ever done; the upstream water and booze the nurse had given him was working its magic. He lay there in the dirt, surrounded by shrubs caked with soft debris that had rained down during the earthquake. A tickle in his throat made him want to cough. He held his breath and listened but heard nothing. He made it to the corner of the building.

  Both motorcycles were parked next to the Humvee. No one was in sight. Once they were finished with the admin building, the warlords’ search for their lead
er would eventually take them to the gym.

  Brendan got into the Humvee. For one nervous moment he worried it might be a manual transmission, but the gearshift was something he could make sense of. Rolf had left the keys in the ignition, which was clearly marked with ENG STOP, RUN, and START. He turned the key. The engine started up loud. The music reasserted itself and blasted the cab, making the windows shake. He turned off the radio. Unless the warlords were deaf, they would have heard the noise.

  Without hesitation he backed straight into both motorcycles, knocking them down. He honked the horn. No one appeared at the lobby entrance. Then a warlord wearing a tasseled leather jacket landed on the ground in front of him. The man had dropped down from one of the upper floors. He gave Brendan a throat-cutting gesture.

  “Shut it off!”

  Brendan put the Humvee into drive and floored it. The warlord slapped the front panel as he stepped out of the way. Brendan laid on the horn. The warlord was pulling up his bike. A second man wearing a football helmet dropped down next to him.

  He kept honking. They were coming. Now he had to drive fast. He turned the corner of the admin building and was confronted with a mountain of debris. He thought he might be able to get through one side of it, but he didn’t want to risk getting hung up. He stopped and made a five-point turn to go back in the opposite direction, wondering if at any moment the warlords would make it to the corner and just start shooting. Or more likely, pull the door off and tear him to pieces.

  One of the bikes made the turn and blocked his path. Brendan put the pedal down and clipped the bike with the corner of the Humvee, smashing it and its rider aside. The warlord had pulled a pistol out and was firing. Incoming rounds tinged off the vehicle and spidered the glass. Brendan crouched and steered wildly around the admin building’s entrance. The second warlord was trying to start his bike. Brendan honked as he sped past.

  If that didn’t make him their sole target, he didn’t know what else to do. He had to head back to the warlord camp, even if that meant it would be a one-way trip.