“Oh, I approve. I just hope that my ideas aren’t ripped to shreds when I actually get to work this week. He’s already emailed me three times, and we only met on Thursday.”
Grandma tries to suppress an amused smile. She sets down her napkin and folds her hands on her lap.
“At least he seems to be as passionate about the work as you are.”
“So, what do you think?” asks Grandpa, leaning his elbows on the table. “Do you think we can get a sneak peek of your story?”
All eyes are on me, and instead of feeling excited to talk about the ideas, my mind keeps going back to that passage in Dad’s journal, the one about wanting to hide the Vestige. But, I can’t let my family and Mae down, so I put on a smile and regale them with a brief blow-by-blow of the first battle between Super Guy and The Drone. There are a few parts that make Grandpa laugh and Grandma gasp. Those are the parts that I took from real life, when The Drone attacked this house.
“And then,” I conclude, “The Drone is forced away, and Super Guy must figure out the source of the Vestige’s power - its origin - in order to take down The Drone and lock away the power once and for all.”
Grandma claps.
“It sounds like an exciting story!” she says. “I’ll be anxious to read it when it’s done.”
She gets up and starts to clear the table. Mae jumps up and offers to help, so Grandma accepts. This leaves me and Grandpa sitting down by ourselves.
“So?” I say. “What do you think? Does it sound too simple?”
“I don’t think it sounds simple at all,” Grandpa replies. “The outline is just the framework. You’re going to embellish the story with details that come to you as you work. Plus, don’t forget that this Austin guy is going to add his own touch to your ideas. I think you’ll like working as a team.”
“But, I do have one thing I wanted to talk to you about,” I say, glancing around to make sure that Grandma and Mae aren’t eavesdropping. Then I continue. “I did what you said and used Dad’s journal as a selling point for the story. But, I came across something that made me stop and reflect a little.”
“Hmm?” says Grandpa. “What did you find?”
I lick my lips. “I found a passage about the Vestige - how dangerous Dad thought it was. He was obsessed with finding out where the medallion came from, but then he warns me that I should hide the Vestige away like he did so that The Drone, or anyone else like him, won’t be able to use that power for evil again. Do you think I’m making a mistake using the Vestige, and getting Mae involved? I mean, that’s the exact opposite of what Dad is telling me to do in his journal. He talks about there possibly being other medallions out there. I never thought about that before.”
Grandpa strokes his chin for a moment as he thinks. Then he gives me a knowing glance and says, “I wonder at what point in his life your father wrote that. He definitely struggled with his feelings about the Vestige after what happened with Bill - hence why he ended up hiding it himself. To be honest, even I didn’t know what he did with the Vestige after the whole debacle. I only knew that we agreed to put the shard in the wall as a backup should anything happen. And, surprise, something did.”
I cross my arms and take a steadying breath as all the images of The Drone’s attack flood back to my mind. I never want anything like that to happen again. With Bill Flagrant locked up and paralyzed, hopefully nothing like that ever will.
“So?” I say. “What do you think I should do? Should I listen to the journal?”
Instead of sharing my unease, Grandpa gives me the warmest expression, taking me completely off guard.
“I think I already told you what I think. The best way to make sure that the Vestige doesn’t fall into the wrong hands is to keep it in your own.”
“So, what you’re saying is that I should just keep it,” I say, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Leave it to Grandpa to add more weight of responsibility onto my shoulders when all I want is a more normal life with a writing career. Sadly, it looks like that’s not going to happen any time soon.
Grandpa places a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“What I’m saying is, who better to hold onto and protect the Vestige than you - and now, Mae? I know that you’re worried about the responsibility, but I promise that it isn’t as big as they make it seem in the movies. I’m not your Uncle Ben here, telling you to go out and save everyone on the face of the planet - or even everyone in Boston. What I’m telling you is that your father was onto the right idea. He absolutely needed to keep the Vestige out of enemy hands. But, he went about it the wrong way. Simply hiding the medallion is asking for someone to find it. After all, you found it and you weren’t even looking for it. So, the solution is simple. You hold onto the Vestige and keep it safe. That way, if anything comes up and you need to use it, you can.”
“Hopefully nothing comes up,” I mutter. “I don’t want any more battles in the sky if that’s alright with everyone else.”
“It’s not alright with me!” says Mae, butting into the conversation by leaning over the back of my chair.
“Wait - you were listening?” I say, turning to look at her. She’s grinning.
“Of course I was listening. Partners need to be briefed, don’t they? Besides, if anyone’s going to be fighting you in the air, it’s going to be me. I still need to practice a ton to get up to your level.”
“Nope,” I say, playing along now. “I think I’ll just keep you beneath my power levels so that I can beat you whenever you pull a stunt on me.”
“Hey!”
Mae pretends to wring my neck, and we all share a laugh. A laugh is what I need after all the doom and gloom that the journal entry instilled in me.
I lean back in my chair and sigh.
“Thanks for the laugh,” I say. “I think I need it.”
“We all need it,” says Grandma as she rejoins us at the table with a plate of cookies. “All we can do is move forward. That’s what your grandpa used to tell Jeff.”
“And I’m telling it to you now,” Grandpa finishes the conversation matter-of-factly. “Now, let me grab one of these cookies before they all disappear!”
17
Resurfaced
As I finish up my remaining shifts at the store, I use my free time to work on my outline. It’s hard to start, but it gets easier as I go along. The ideas build upon each other and finally I feel less like an imposter and more like an author.
This feeling of confidence couldn’t come at a better time because I get at least one email every day from Austin asking when we can meet up to discuss ideas.
I fend him off, scheduling a meeting for Friday. This gets him off my back and gives me a solid deadline to organize my ideas before we meet up.
Thankfully Wednesday arrives sooner than I think and getting together with Kimberly takes my mind off my work for a much-needed break.
“It’s pretty sad that Mae couldn’t come with us,” says Kimberly as we walk through the streets of Chinatown. She has finished her tour of the college campus and has a few hours to kill before catching her train back to Maine.
I scratch the back of my neck.
“Yeah,” I reply, not exactly wanting to admit that Mae is upset that I’m choosing to spend some time with her. So, I make up something on the spot, and probably don’t sound too intelligent. “She had to work this afternoon.”
“And you didn’t?” Kimberly raises an eyebrow.
Oh yeah, I think, remembering for the first time that I never told Kimberly about my new job at the publishing house. This is perhaps the first time that I can legitimately look like a badass in front of a girl I like, so I just go for it.
“Actually, I’m working right now,” I say.
Kimberly laughs, looking me up and down.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m a writer now.”
This takes a moment to sink in for Kimberly, but she looks like she’s going to go with it and amuse me.
“You mean
that your mom is paying for you to sit around and write fanfiction, right?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I actually have a real job working for a publishing house. You’ve heard of Marshall-Crichton, the one that publishes my father’s Super Guy comics?”
Kimberly’s eyes brighten.
“Of course. Are you seriously telling me that you got a job as an assistant there?”
“Better,” I jab my finger in her direction. “You’re looking at the new writer of Super Guy.”
Kimberly’s reaction is exactly what I hoped for. She brings her hands up to her face and gives an excited squeal.
“That is awesome news!” she says. “Congratulations!”
“Thank-you,” I say, resisting the urge to give a bow.
It might be all in my head, but I think that Kimberly looks at me differently now. It feels like quite an achievement because I didn’t even have to use super powers to gain the awe that shows in Kimberly’s eyes. I am just a normal guy. Her smile remains on her face.
“How did you get your foot in the door over there?” she asks. “It was your father’s name, right?”
“Yes,” I say. “But, it wasn’t a cake walk. I had to pitch them my idea for the finale of the series. Even with that, there wasn’t a guarantee going into my meeting that I would get the job of being the actual writer. They could have put me as a chronology advisor or something lame like that. But, based on my story concept I was able to land the gig and quit my job in retail for the rest of the summer.”
“And hopefully for a lot longer,” Kimberly adds.
The idea does sound thrilling to me. Being able to work with some of the greatest artists in the world is something that can’t get old.
We continue on through Chinatown, taking in the bright colors all over the place and the delicious smells of authentic Chinese food. My mouth waters thinking about chicken fingers and lobster sauce.
“Are you doing the artwork as well?” asks Mae as we walk by a packed restaurant. There are tables out on the sidewalk shaded by big red umbrellas that sway gently in the wind.
“Are you kidding?” I say. “I can draw, but nothing like the professionals. The executive set me up with a really cool artist.”
“Anyone I’d recognize?” asks Kim.
Suddenly I hear a voice shouting my name. It’s not obvious, but I know I recognize it from somewhere. Looking around the street my jaw drops a bit when I see Austin hurrying over from one of the many shops.
“Shaun! Hey!”
Kimberly glances at me.
“You know this guy?” she asks as Austin catches up to us. He’s wearing another crazy graphic T-shirt, this time one with some characters from the Star Wars cantina emblazoned on the chest. His messenger bag swings back and forth as he comes to a stop beside me.
“This...is my artist,” I say, motioning to Austin. He’s all smiles and a slight sheen of perspiration coats his forehead and neck.
“Hi,” he says, reaching out a hand to Kimberly. “I’m Austin Spencer. Wow. What are the odds that I’d run into you out here?”
I raise my eyebrows slowly.
“It’s quite a coincidence,” I say, exaggerating my sarcasm. Really, it’s not that much of a coincidence at all. In a city as crowded as Boston, especially after rush hour, it’s nearly impossible not to run into someone you know while you’re out and about. “I was actually just showing Kimberly around. We used to go to school together.”
“Chinatown is beautiful in the early evening,” says Austin. “An excellent choice for a walk.”
“What brings you out this way?” I ask, genuinely curious. “You don’t live nearby, do you?”
“Are you kidding? No,” answers Austin. “There’s a shop down here that sells the best calligraphy pens. I use them for a lot of my inking projects. I thought I’d get prepared for our meeting on Friday. I also like to come down here to sketch. The decorations are so inspiring.”
He’s not wrong on that part. At first I’m worried that Austin will be super awkward like he was when we talked outside Mr. Crichton’s office, but Kimberly seems charmed by him. He continues to joke and she laughs. I find myself staring at her happy expressions longer than I should and force myself to divert my eyes to the sidewalk.
After a few minutes of chatting, I cut the conversation off.
“We really should get going. Kimberly has to catch a train back to Maine, and I’ve got a pretty long T ride ahead of me.”
“Right on,” says Austin, adjusting his bag strap. “It was wonderful meeting you, Kimberly. And Shaun, I’ll see you soon.”
Within moments he’s gone, swallowed up by a passing group of people.
We continue on our walk, heading back to the subway station so that we can go our separate ways.
“He seemed like a really nice guy,” says Kimberly. “I bet he’ll be a blast to work with. And he wears Star Wars shirts. You can’t go wrong with a guy who likes aliens, right?”
“I guess so,” I reply. “I don’t really know him that well. To be honest, the first time I met him was only a few days ago, so he seems great now. But, we could end up wanting to strangle each other by the time our book comes out.”
This makes Kimberly laugh. She’s about to say something else, but the words don’t come. Instead her mouth opens and her expression turns into one of confusion. I wait for her to say whatever it is she was going to say, but still it doesn’t come.
“What?” I ask.
She points at something over my shoulder.
“What the heck is that?” she asks, her hand trembling.
I turn to follow her gaze over to a tall building that is partially silhouetted by the dying sunlight. It’s all stone with balconies starting at the second floor. At first I don’t see anything out of the ordinary and actually shift my gaze up to the sky to see if perhaps there’s a strange plane or something overhead. But, as I look back down the side of the building I see a sight that freezes the blood in my veins.
Hanging from the third floor balcony, rigged in an iron suit of mechanical armor that encases his lower body, is The Drone.
18
Attack and Pursuit
I blink my eyes a few times, trying to make what I’m seeing be a figment of my imagination. No matter how hard I will it, the grinning face of Bill Flagrant - The Drone - continues to leer at me as he hangs from the balcony.
People standing around begin to notice the villain and a flurry of phones are pulled out and aimed at the mechanized suit of armor. Flashes go off and more than a few beeping chirps are heard as videos start recording.
My jaw drops.
What is The Drone doing in the middle of Chinatown? He’s supposed to be locked up, and, last time I checked, paralyzed.
Everyone in the immediate area has stopped in place, including Kimberly. Despite everyone’s mystified looks, I know that this is now the most dangerous place in the city. I need to get out of here immediately, and I’m taking Kimberly with me.
I grab her roughly by the hand and yank her away from The Drone.
“Come on!” I say. “We have to get out of here, quickly!”
“But, what’s going on?” she says, craning her neck to look back at the Drone.
She can’t take her eyes off him. I have to admit that he’s a pretty awe-inspiring sight to behold. It’s not every day that a mechanized man comes crawling along the side of a building. Even so, I would be a heck of a lot more impressed if The Drone didn’t suddenly leap forward, intent on ripping me to shreds.
Gasps are heard and a few screams sound as The Drone literally propels himself straight out into the air over the street. Gears buzz and whir as he stretches out his arms and slams down onto the pavement like a real-life version of Donkey Kong. Bits of asphalt spray in all directions and large spiderweb cracks spread out from where his feet have planted.
His eyes are locked on me and he lets out a growl.
“I’ve come to finish what I started,” he says in a gu
ttural voice that sends chills down my arms and neck. “I’ve come to make you scream!” Then he lurches forward in a sprint, heading straight for me and Kimberly.
No more time for talk.
“Run!” I yell and book it for a nearby alleyway. I pull so hard on Kimberly’s arm that it might have come dislocated if she stayed planted, but thankfully she comes to her senses and starts to keep up with me.
I want more than anything to just fly away, but I can’t do that with Kimberly. If she finds out about my powers, my goose is cooked. I also certainly can’t use my abilities with about fifty cameras all aimed in my direction.
I hear The Drone getting closer and closer, as well as the screams of nearby pedestrians beneath the mechanical smashing on the street. I might have no other choice than to use my powers since the mechanical suit that Bill Flagrant is wearing seems to give him abnormal speed. If I don’t want me and Kimberly to be smashed to a pulp, or worse, captured and tortured for the Vestige, I’ll have to fly.
No, I tell myself. I can’t show her my powers! I need to find a way to get rid of her - safely - and then lure The Drone away.
We sprint down the sidewalk, pushing our way through people who have no idea what’s about to hit them. I search for some place, some storefront, that Kimberly can run into. There are quite a few, but none of them look like they open back up on the other side. If I send Kimberly into one of those, it will be a death trap.
I quicken my pace and pull harder on her hand as The Drone gains on us.
Cameras are following us, with more being pulled out of pockets every second.
Suddenly I spot an alleyway that looks too small for The Drone to fit through. If we can just dart through there…
The Drone must be reading my thoughts because as we near the alleyway, a high-pitched whistle fills the air. The screaming of onlookers intensifies into a crescendo and there’s barely a split second to register a rocket as it shoots past my head and erupts in a giant ball of flames. Pieces of brick spray everywhere and the entrance to the alley collapses onto itself..
The Aberrant Series (Book 2): Super Vision Page 9