I Am Phantom

by Sean Fletcher

  “I will not have this stopped just because you grew a conscience! I will be remembered for this! This project is…” He placed his hands on the table to steady himself. “This is everything I dreamed of. My ticket out of obscurity.”

  Sykes almost looked like he was going to relent. Then he shook his head a final time. “No, I’m sorry.” And pushed his way out the doors and vanished off screen.

  “He was—”

  “Shh…” Dr. Ragan said.

  A new video started. Same room, but this time the rest of the lab was deserted and dark. Carlyle sat in the same place and, standing behind him, was Ryans.

  “Ryans?” I nearly shouted.

  “He was head of security at the project,” Dr. Ragan said.

  “What did you say we were doing here, sir?” Ryans asked. Carlyle started tapping his pen on the table.

  “A little extra work for the project.” Ryans looked out the glass at the darkened laboratory.

  “I thought we were getting shut down.” The tapping stopped.

  “You thought wrong.”

  Two men burst through the doors, dragging a third man between them. Ryans started.

  “Hey! Wha—” He looked down at the man between them. “Is that Dr. Sykes?”

  “Dr. Sykes has graciously offered his body for the testing of our latest serum,” Carlyle said, standing up and removing a syringe from his pocket. “He—”

  At that moment Sykes came alive.

  “You traitor!” He screamed, reaching for Carlyle’s throat. “How could you do this to me?” The two men held him fast. “I was your partner!”

  Ryans looked torn at what to do.

  “And now you’re in my way,” Carlyle said. “Ryans, restrain him.”

  “I—”

  “Ryans, Dr. Sykes is confused,” Carlyle said, approaching Sykes with the needle. “He feels our work is unsafe when I know it’s not. I’m here to prove to him otherwise.”

  “Sir, I have to go against this.”

  Sykes was continuing to struggle, but he was growing tired. Ryans couldn’t take his eyes off him. He looked frozen to the spot.

  “You know what that will do to me, Carlyle,” Sykes panted. “You’re a murder.” He turned to Ryans. “Stop him! Help me before—”

  Carlyle plunged the needle into Sykes’ neck. “I’m sure we fixed whatever was the problem. At least I hope so.”

  The video ended.

  “He never wanted it,” I said quietly. “It was never his fault.” Dr. Ragan shrugged and sat back down.

  “You could say that. I guess the only thing you can blame him for is anything he’s done since. Sykes escaped soon after that.”

  “But what about me?”

  “What about you?”

  “The serum drove Sykes insane. Why didn’t that happen to me?”

  “Ahh…” Dr. Ragan tapped his chin. “I’m not as savvy with this info since I was out of the project by then, but I believe it had to do with your genes.”

  “What?”

  “Your genetics, Drake. Project Midnight traced them and measured them before you were even born, looking for the perfect candidates. There’s something about your genes that make you more robust, more able to withstand the serum’s after effects. For now, at least, who knows about later.”

  “You don’t seem to care what happens to me.” I pointed an accusing finger at him. “I want the cure.”

  “There’s no cure. It’s in your genetic code. Besides, we gave you a gift!”

  “That’s what you and Sykes keep saying but all I see in this is a curse! I don’t care if Sykes thinks his abilities are great now. You destroyed the man he was and maybe the man I’m going to be, and you made me a target for the people who worked for you. How is that a gift?”

  Dr. Ragan slowly reached out his hand as thought trying to touch an invisible cheek. “If only…if only they had what you possess. They would still be here. Their lives would have been fruitful and happy and I would get to see the wonderful people they became before I died. That is your gift, the gift of survival.”

  I grunted and stood up, letting Dr. Ragan know that this was the end of our conversation.

  “You still don’t seem convinced,” Dr. Ragan mused.

  “Gee, how’d you figure that?”

  He steepled his hands in front of him and looked at me over the tops of his fingers. “Perhaps there is someone else who can help you. Someone you can better relate to. There’s a chance they could help you figure out what you’re looking for.”

  “Thanks, doc,” I said sarcastically. “Unfortunately, the person like me happens to be a teensy bit unstable. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Sykes. I wonder if he mentioned there were three other children they tested on.”

  I froze and nearly stumbled. I whirled back around and tried to see if he was telling the truth. Dr. Ragan didn’t move and his expression didn’t give anything away. “You know about them? I thought you said you weren’t involved in the project.”

  “Correct. I had nothing to do with any of the illegal activities Project Midnight did after I thought I shut it down.” He put his hands down. “That being said, I did feel it was my right to get some of the data from their computer. Including the names and last known locations of the three other children they tested on, including you, Drake Sinclair.”

  “I…I don’t believe you.” I tried to get up, to act like what he said didn’t matter, but his words apparently made my legs stop listening to me and I could only sit there and try to process what he said. Here I thought the only man who knew the locations was crazy, and now they were within my reach. I could find the others like me. We could figure out this problem together and stop Project Midnight. I held out my hand.

  “Give the information to me.”

  “It’s not here,” Dr. Ragan said. “I kept the data here and I kept it safe for an instance just like this.” He rubbed his haggard face. “I did not pursue any of the children, though I could have. For all I know you grew up in relative safety. You deserved that chance, at least.

  “You will get it, Drake, but for now I think it’s best I keep it. Until this revival of Project Midnight is over and Sykes is re-captured, I feel as though you have other things on your mind.”

  My hand dropped limply to my side. “I need those names, Dr. Ragan.”

  “Not right now. Priorities, Mr. Sinclair.” He almost looked sincere. If I had had any clue where he might have been keeping the information I would have taken it right then, but I had nothing. I sighed and crossed the room and opened the back door. The chilly night air was a brief shock to me. “Sykes…right. He’s almost unstoppable. I need something, anything, to help me stop him.” I turned back to Dr. Ragan. “You have anything?”

  “Have you listened to a word I’ve said? You have the means within you. You’ve had it all along. The only person who can beat a superhuman is another superhuman.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I stepped out the door.

  “Drake?” I paused just before the moonlight touched me.

  “What?”

  Dr. Ragan looked pained. He leaned towards me from his chair. “Can you forgive an old man for his past mistakes? Can you forgive him for his pride and arrogance?” I looked back into his hopeful eyes, brimming with expectation. As if whatever I said next would affirm something he had been tortured by for too long.

  “No,” I said. “Not yet.” I left the door open when I left.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tightening the Noose

  Phantom returned the moment we got back from winter break. Sure, there were new classes to go to, but Cody was still in Political Science with me. And sure, police Chief Ryans had sent out a public warrant for Phantom’s arrest but hey, you can’t take criticism personally.

  A couple weeks passed and I took down a couple more small time jobs. Nothing too exciting, just drug dealers and a kidnapping or two. Being shot at or almost killed had kind of gott
en routine to me, which was both good and absolutely terrifying.

  I saw no sign of Sykes. Not that I was looking very hard for him. Dr. Ragan’s revelation had left me more reserved about facing him than ever before.

  But even stranger than not seeing Sykes was seeing Phantom.

  Everywhere.

  Posters and signs of me were plastered all over campus. I was on dorm room doors, light posts, outside the cafeteria, even some local business windows. All had some catch phrase like: Phantom: Savior of This City or Phantom Owns This City. Things I would never be caught dead proclaiming as I took down bad guys.

  “Don’t,” Melanie said as we were walking back from class. I had just torn down another sign with Phantom’s hooded face on it. (This Area Patrolled by Phantom. Um…no it wasn’t). “You want them to like you.”

  “I know, but isn’t this is a little over kill?”

  “No, it’s good. The students love you, which is great for your image? This is all good for your image. The less they see you as a menace, the better. I heard a couple of my friends talking about how much safer they feel on campus with you. And they think you’re hot.”

  I snorted. “They can’t even see my face. And hotness won’t stop Project Midnight from doing everything they can to get me.”

  My phone beeped and I checked it.

  Got something for you. You close?

  Cody

  “Cody wants us,” I said. We immediately changed direction and headed towards my dorm.

  “Possible Project Midnight activity near the docks,” Cody said as soon as we were all in his room. “Off Queensbury Lake. It looks like it’s attracting some interest on the scanner.” I leaned over his shoulder and looked at the red blip that had showed up on a grid covering the city.

  “It’s dark in two hours. I can be out there in an hour and a half. Is it another Project Midnight lab or are they just stealing things?”

  “It’s been stolen from before,” Matt said. Another click. “It holds a lot of materials Project Midnight could use. But it could be just some normal gang activity.”

  “Right, ‘normal’ gangs. I love those.”

  “Well whoever is there doesn’t look like they’re doing drug work. And if its arms dealers moving weapons then we want you there to stop them.” Matt peered closer at the screen. “It looks like the police are going because someone left them an anonymous tip that something might happen there tonight.”

  “Interesting,” I said. “I guess that’s as good an invitation as I’m going to get.”

  #

  Tall buildings whipped past me, dotting the skyline like a thick forest canopy. We had plotted the least crowded route there so I only saw a few cars and way more rusting metal sidings and houses with yards that would not win Garden of the Month. This part of the city seemed to be rotting from the inside.

  The neighborhoods and back roads spit me out at a lakefront shipping yard. Large numbers hung from each one above unmanned cranes, unused crates and a whole bunch of other un-things.

  I killed the engine and stashed it out of sight. Lapping waves and lakefront stink mingled with my footsteps.

  “Warehouse six. There should be a skylight,” Cody said on the earpiece. I dashed under a lip of roof sticking out from the warehouse above me.

  I shot my grappling hook onto the metal edge above me and started up. The roof creaked as I landed but the sound was soon lost as the building shifted and groaned in the wind coming off the lake. My shoes gripped the slick metal and I moved until I was perched above an open skylight looking down into the warehouse floor almost thirty feet from the ground.

  There were at least twenty gang members inside. Some leaned against crates, others played cards under lamplight and still others patrolled the area, guns tucked under their arms.

  “Matt, it’s a gang. Any police activity on the scanner?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “And I’m not seeing anything like Project Midnight.”

  But the longer I looked the more—off the gang looked. I’d broken up enough gang get-togethers that I could tell that there was something different about these guys.

  “Umm…” Cody’s confused voice came through the earpiece. “Does that guy have a pack of Big Bubble Bubble gum? The one near the doorway?”

  I looked at the guy reclining against the wall. He blew a bubble and it burst with a loud pop!

  “Yes. Yes he does,” I said. But before I could elaborate a guy smoking an electronic cigarette caught my eye.

  “What the heck—?”

  “Didn’t think they could afford that,” Cody said. “Maybe they can. Didn’t think they cared that much.”

  I decided I needed to get a closer look at these guys. I lowered myself in and tiptoed to the edge of the landing. There came another pop! From Mr. Bubbles near the door. One of the guys leaning against a supporting beam checked his watch.

  “Are they coming or what?”

  Another man threw his hands up exasperatedly.

  “Tenth time you’ve asked. I don’t know, gosh darn it!”

  Gosh darn it? Either these guys were fake or they were the lamest gang members I’d ever seen.

  “White Rook?”

  “Yes, Phantom.”

  “I’m thinking this is the police.”

  “I’m thinking that too. Golden Eagle, anything else on the scanner?” The typing stopped and Matt’s voice grew closer as he rolled towards Cody.

  “Why do you keep asking me that?”

  “We have a bad case of the gang-is-not-really-a-gang-syndrome. They’ve laid a trap for Project Midnight but they’re a no-show.”

  “What about lame gang down here?” I asked.

  “Leave them,” Cody said. “Project Midnight isn’t stupid enough to come tonight.”

  “Done,” I said. “Heading out—” I paused mid-turn, about to climb back up to the roof. A ghostly shape had materialized from the late night fog on Queensbury Lake, growing closer with each second. It was a small, rusting shipping boat. The floodlights strapped to the front beams illuminated men with Project Midnight uniforms on the deck.

  The boat docked and the men leapt off the side and dashed into the cover of darkness near the warehouse door. I made a decision. I jumped back down onto a warehouse rafter and loudly pounded the metal. Lame gang’s heads snapped up.

  “Get your guns out!” I yelled. “They’re at the door!”

  Lame gang fumbled for their weapons and aimed them at me. Ryans himself pulled off a hat and aimed a pistol at my head. “Put your hands up and come down slowly!”

  One or the other, man, I can’t do both. I pointed to the door Project Midnight was now opening.

  “Look alive!”

  Lame gang spun around. I watched some of them look between both of us, trying to decide: Group of guys with guns or one man without a gun? Group of guys with guns or one man without a gun… Queensbury’s finest, ladies and gentlemen.

  Both groups froze. It would have been comical if there hadn’t been, you know, the possibility of them killing each other.

  Finally, a man in front yelled, “Drop the weapons! Queensbury PD!”

  Project Midnight started shooting.

  I saw one officer take it to the chest and hoped he was wearing Kevlar under all that get up. Ryans ducked behind a steel beam. I was completely forgotten as men found cover and exchanged smatterings of fire.

  “Get out of there, Phantom!” Cody shouted over the roar of machine gun fire. I ignored him, waited until there was a brief lull in the fighting, and swooped down on Project Midnight. I landed on one guy and heard a snap as his leg gave. Two more spun and rushed me but I moved to Crane pose and in two swift strikes both dropped, clutching their chests.

  An arm closed around my throat and stars flashed in my eyes.

  “You will watch him die,” Sykes hissed in my ear.

  I tried to get under his arm but his grip was like iron. He pulled me around until we faced Ryans. Bullets buzzed like hornets around
him and pieces of wood from the crates littered the floor.

  “You know what he did. Now he’s going to die by the same hands he once worked for,” Sykes said. A gas grenade exploded on the far side of the warehouse. Putrid smoke wafted our way. Ryans looked up and saw us and the remaining members of Project Midnight trickling out the door.

  “Sykes!”

  I slammed my head back, feeling it connect with Sykes’ face. Before he could recover I drove my elbow into his stomach and hurled him through the wall and out of the warehouse. I heard shots behind me as I leapt out the hole to follow.

  Sykes was gone. “What were the casualties?” I yelled into my earpiece, aware of Ryans probably following behind me. I started running down the waterfront, sure this was the only way Sykes could have gone.

  “None so far,” Cody said. “They might not have put them on the scanner. That or nobody got hurt.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. I stopped running. The warehouse was far behind me. The few gunshots remaining seemed a million miles away. The faint, sour taste of the gas grenade lingered on my tongue. And there was someone nearby.

  “Why did you save him?”

  I couldn’t pinpoint where Sykes’ voice came from. There were at least three warehouses around me. He could have been in any of them. “Why did you save Ryans? A man you knew had helped hurt you. You knew he was a part of Project Midnight. Dr. Ragan told you.”

  How did he know what Dr. Ragan—?

  My blood went cold. I was suddenly, painfully aware of my own breath rattling in my lungs, my heart rhythmically pulsing, and how easy it could be to stop both. But they were still going, for now.

  It made sense. How Sykes seemed to know where I was. How he had appeared at just the right times. How it was nearly impossible for me to find him without him wanting to meet. Because he had known.

  He had always known.

  “You’ve been following me.”

  “Ever since you arrived in Queensbury,” Sykes answered. He seemed to be changing locations. I edged over to a brick wall. Partly to get better out of sight, partly to steady myself. “That’s why I was there at the Project Midnight lab. And the train,” Sykes continued. “How I’ve known everything you’ve done and everyone you’ve met since you came here. Your friends you’re on the earpiece with right now, your little girlfriend. All the people you’ve surrounded yourself with to make believe that you’re normal. You’ve been a great help.”