West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide

by Johnson-Weider, K. M.

  Dr. Hodges had never again spoken to her of Diana, but Seawolf hadn’t forgotten the exchange. She wished now that she would have spoken of this to Starfish, but perhaps he wouldn’t have believed her. Sometimes she wondered if she even believed.

  Lost in her memories, it took a while to find Paul’s room and when she did, she could see through the window that he was sleeping. She was aware of the stares of other people in the hallway and she entered the room quickly and quietly. She would keep her visit short; someone was probably already calling an orderly.

  She sat on the chair next to the bed and grimaced as she looked at Paul. His left leg was in a cast and suspended in some sort of apparatus to keep it level, his normally pink face looked peaked and pale. Yet the first thing he said when he opened his eyes and saw her was “Are you okay?”

  Seawolf chuckled. “I’m the ambulatory one,” she told him. “Just a broken arm and a couple of ribs, and some fractures here and there. You’re the one suspended from the ceiling. How are you feeling?”

  “It’s just my leg,” he said groggily, “but they had to do surgery to put pins in, I’m on something for the pain – it’s pretty strong. “ He look confused for a moment, as if he was processing what she had said and then looked at her in alarm. “Broken arm, ribs, fractures - you should be in the hospital.”

  “I am in the hospital,” she said with a wolfish grin. “See? Here I am. Doctors know better than to try to keep me in a hospital past visiting hours.”

  “Did you get Starfish?” Paul asked, struggling to sit up a little and gesturing for the glass of water on the bedside table.

  She handed him the glass and nodded. “Dead,” she said with satisfaction. “But we lost White Knight and very nearly the entire team; his house was like a death trap. He was also behind the Boardwalk attack; he turned out to be one sick bastard.” She couldn’t help wondering whether Starfish had always been mentally and morally unstable – even back when he was Dr. Ross Keller – or whether the mutation itself had pushed him over the edge. No one would ever know now.

  Paul finished the water. “Any idea how many more of those things he created got loose?” he asked, sounding much more alert. Before she could answer, the door opened to admit a male nurse who looked at Seawolf suspiciously. She sighed. This was her cue for departure. She put her good hand on the bed to help her stand and was startled when Paul reached out and imprisoned it in his own. “I have a visitor,” he told the nurse pointedly.

  The man hesitated, giving another look at Seawolf. “Come back later,” Paul said. The nurse nodded slowly and left, closing the door behind him. Seawolf sat back down and tried to pull away her hand, but Paul held it tight. She flushed, but didn’t struggle.

  “Starfish was deranged – you know that, right?” Paul asked her.

  Seawolf raised an eyebrow. “He was kidnapping people to do illegal genetic experimentations on them – he killed three members of his own team, obviously he was deranged!”

  Paul frowned. “That’s not what I mean. The things that he said – he was insane, Seawolf. You know that, right? He was just saying those things to make you angry. People don’t think you’re a freak.”

  Seawolf looked away uncomfortably; she tried to withdraw her hand again but Paul was gripping it tightly and she didn’t want to risk jostling him. “I am a freak, Paul,” she finally said. “A freak means an aberration, something fundamentally and weirdly different from the norm. That’s what I am. No one else is quite like me. And don’t tell me that that makes me special or unique,” she added angrily. “Special and unique is what people say to try and make someone feel better about the fact that they’re uncomfortable being around you.”

  “I’m not uncomfortable being around you,” he said softly, moving his hand so that he could stroke the webbing between her fingers. “And I’ve never thought that you were a freak.” The way in which he was touching her felt almost unbearably good. She swallowed hard to regain control of herself and jerked her arm away.

  “Ow!” he cried, clenching the side of the bed to steady himself against her sudden movement.

  “It’s your own fault,” she snapped. “I’m not some dog you can just reach out and pet.”

  He flinched. “Believe me, I know,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ve got two dogs and you’d make a terrible dog. You don’t fetch, you don’t stay where you’re told to… Come to think of it, you’re really more like a cat, which is a shame because I can’t stand cats.” He reached for her hand again, but she was too far away now and he couldn’t shift much because of how his leg was positioned.

  “Come here,” he said, patting the bed beside him.

  She frowned and shook her head.

  “Come on, Seawolf,” he pleaded. “You threw me down a flight of stairs and broke my leg in three places. You owe me.”

  “Then you should have listened when I told you to leave,” she grumbled, but she did move to the edge of the bed and cautiously sat down next to him. “You’re going to get me in trouble with the hospital,” she complained.

  “Since when do you care about getting in trouble with anyone?” He ran his hand lightly up the smooth pale-green scales that covered her arm all the way to the grey fur on her shoulders, neck, and face. “You’re so soft!” he said in surprise as he explored her skin. “I never thought you’d be so soft.”

  She couldn’t think when the last time was that someone had touched her like this. It was sensual as hell. She shuddered and then groaned as pain shot through her ribcage.

  Paul smiled, apparently taking her groan as a sign of pleasure. “See, I like you, you like me, what’s so hard about this? No, don’t answer that,” he said as she started to speak. “Seriously though, you need to relax. When was the last time you just relaxed? No, don’t answer that either. Just come closer, I want to kiss you.”

  “Why?”

  Paul laughed. “Since when does a guy need a reason to kiss the girl he likes?”

  Seawolf flushed. “It’s daylight,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So people might see us.” She gestured towards the door and its small glass window.

  “Let ‘em look.” He tried again to turn towards her and grimaced as he twisted his leg.

  Seawolf bent down and met his mouth with hers. Her arm got crushed between them in the process, and pain coursed through her ribs, but she didn’t care. He was tracing the contours of her face with his free hand; he had found the soft spot behind her ears. She felt like she was melting. But why was he kissing her? Was the medicine making him delirious? What if someone came in? What if Paul saw the way that other people looked at her – would he pull away, would he tell her to leave? She tried to ignore the questions in the back of her head, but they were too loud, and she started to panic. She pulled back and opened her eyes in alarm.

  “You’re so tense,” he said sadly as she shrugged off his hand. “Be honest – you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Then why…” He shook his head and looked confused. “I’m not going to hurt you. Heck, I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he said with a short laugh. “Not that I do or anything,” he added quickly as she stood up. “In fact, come to think of it, you’re the one who put me in the hospital…Sorry, bad joke… ” He sounded frustrated.

  “I think I should leave now,” she told him, her voice unsteady. Her heart was pounding so loudly it was hard for her to think.

  “Okay,” he said, looking crestfallen and tired. As she reached the door, he rallied again. “I’m not going to go away though,” he called. “You know that, right? I’m going to keep after you until you realize I’m serious. I’m very persistent.”

  She nodded weakly. “So am I.”

  Paul laughed. “I know. You’re a fighter alright. But don’t worry, I don’t give up easily.”

  “Good,” she whispered, pausing an instant before opening the door. “I – I have to go.”

  “Okay,” he said.
“Take care of yourself.”

  “You too,” Seawolf managed before she fled the room. She didn’t even know how she got outside, but she found a bench in the sun and sat for a while until her heart had stopped racing. When she could breathe easily again, she looked around in wonder at the sight of people going about their normal business. There was nothing normal about the way she felt right now: fierce and scared and hormonal - and very very happy.

  Chapter 45

  2:04 p.m., Wednesday, September 18th, 2013

  California Correctional Center

  Susanville, CA

  “Yeah, they locked me up because I created a new island,” said Dr. Brandeis to Danny as they sat in the courtyard during their outside exercise period. Danny was a good-looking man in his forties who had embezzled millions out of a children’s cancer research fund and got sentenced to 20 years. Dr. Brandeis felt that was excessive, especially since most of the disease research funds were the biggest scams out there. He and Pam had never given money to those causes. Then again Pam had a new boyfriend now and maybe they were giving money to cure sick kids or something.

  “That’s the problem with our society, it discourages creative thinking,” said Danny.

  “Exactly,” said Dr. Brandeis.

  “So how much time for island building?” asked Danny.

  “They wanted the death penalty.” Dr. Brandeis shivered thinking back to his first meeting with the WPPD and State’s attorney. Hundreds of counts of murder, billions in property damage, and the long, long list of crimes they’d committed to execute the Plan. He had just been the scientific consultant but they wanted to stick everything on him, even the deaths that had been caused by the superheroes’ assault on Avalon One. It was ridiculous when you considered it; what was considered murder if done by one person was heroics if done by another.

  “The death penalty? For creating a new island!”

  “Well, you have to break some eggs to make an omelet,” said Dr. Brandeis.

  “So how did you get out of the death penalty?” asked Danny who Dr. Brandeis could tell was impressed.

  “I made a deal; I turned State’s evidence against my financier and Governor Fields and in 20 years I have a shot at parole.” Dr. Brandeis still was a little uncertain how it happened. Big time lawyers from Cruller & Wynn came to represent him; they said a ‘friend’ was financing his defense. They got him sent to this medium security prison for life with a chance of parole. He never even went to trial, though he was going to have to testify in Ian and the Governor’s trials in a few months. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

  “Wait! I know you!” said Danny excitedly. “You’re the guy who used an alien laser to create that tidal wave that hit the coast! Holy hell, you’re like a real fucking supervillain!”

  “I prefer visionary scientist,” said Dr. Brandeis who had to admit he was enjoying his notoriety.

  “So is the island still out there?”

  “Yes, it’s smaller than we would have liked, but it did break the surface. I tried to get it named Brandeis Island, but the media keeps calling it Roache Island after my financier and the State of California is trying to officially name it after a dead superhero, but it’s a legal mess - you know how that goes.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I need to talk to Dr. Brandeis alone,” said a heavyset man who walked up to the two of them and stared at Danny intently. Danny nodded and quickly cleared out. Dr. Brandeis looked at the new guy in front of him, but didn’t recognize him.

  “Yes, what can I do for you?” asked Dr. Brandeis a little nervously. This guy looked like a real criminal.

  “I have an offer,” said the man.

  Dr. Brandeis paled, worried this guy wanted to make him his girlfriend or something, which you always heard about in prison but which thankfully hadn’t happened to him yet. “Okay…ah, what sort of offer?”

  “I represent The Edge,” said the man knowingly.

  “Ah, good for you, top notch outfit,” said Dr. Brandeis, who had no clue who The Edge was. In fact, it was a stupid name, what were they The Edge of?

  “We want to hire you as a scientific consultant,” said the man. Dr. Brandeis had finally figured it out: this guy was part of a gang in the prison that wanted to add Dr. Brandeis’ notoriety to their letterhead so to speak.

  “Well, I might be interested, but I have some demands,” said Dr. Brandeis. “I want someone to bring me my food in the cafeteria so I don’t have to get in line and if you can arrange it so I get to watch Sarah’s Serenade in the common room on Wednesday nights instead of Behind the Mask then I think we might be able to work something out.”

  The man looked a little confused but nodded. “That can be arranged. We need someone with expertise in biochemistry and at least some grounding in astrophysics.”

  “Sure, I’m a multidisciplinary scientist,” said Dr. Brandeis who wondered what this guy was talking about, but figured it was best to play along. He knew a little astrophysics; it had taken him two years in college to decide between astronomy and geology for his bachelors’ degree, but he didn’t have a clue about biochemistry. Then again what biochemistry did you need to know in prison - how to identify the molds in the bathroom?

  “Excellent, then welcome to The Edge,” said the man as he extended his hand. Dr. Brandeis shook his hand and at that the man pulled Dr. Brandeis close to him. It was an uncomfortable moment, made more uncomfortable when the man flew into the sky carrying him out of the prison.

  I’m going to miss the corndogs tonight for dinner, thought Dr. Brandeis, a moment before he realized that his lack of actual biochemistry knowledge could be a problem, perhaps a lethal one. Thank goodness for the Internet.

  Chapter 46

  7:03 p.m., Tuesday, October 8th, 2013

  100 Lighthouse Road

  West Pacific, CA

  Seawolf answered her door on a rainy Tuesday night to find Paul standing there, holding a canvas bag in one hand and a flat parcel wrapped in newspaper in the other, his left leg in a walking cast. “For you,” he said, holding out the parcel.

  “What is it?” she asked, though she could already smell the contents. She was so happy to see him that she could barely keep her voice steady.

  “Fresh snapper fillets,” he told her. “Can I come in? This is heavy and my leg hurts when I stand for too long. Plus it’s raining.”

  She took the package and moved aside so he could enter. “How have you been? You’re walking, so that’s a good sign.”

  “Yeah, the physical therapy is going pretty well. At least it’s good to be out of the cast. How about you? No sling now, I see.”

  “I’m doing much better,” she said as she locked the door. After what had happened between them at the hospital, it felt strange to be talking like acquaintances again, but she didn’t know what else to say. When he hadn’t called for so long, she’d started to wonder if it really had been the medicine that made him kiss her and perhaps he’d regretted it ever since.

  Paul walked heavily to the kitchen; she followed him, wondering what on earth he was up to. He heaved the canvas bag onto the counter and started unpacking the contents. Olive oil, bread crumbs, a plastic box holding two eggs, a quart of milk, a bottle of wine…

  “Did your kitchen break?” she asked dryly.

  “Well,” he said, turning away from her to open several cabinets until he found a mixing bowl, “you wouldn’t have dinner out with me. So I figured we could have dinner in.”

  “You invited yourself to dinner at my house?”

  “You’d never have agreed to come to mine, right? And it’s not really inviting myself to dinner if I do the cooking.” He pulled up one of her barstools and sat down, obviously relieved to get his weight off his leg. “Can you hand me a cup measure?”

  She walked over to a drawer and found one. He took it and started measuring bread crumbs.

  “I could have been out,” she observed.

  “True, that would have been unfor
tunate,” he agreed. “But it wasn’t likely. It’s not the Season, you don’t do a lot of publicity events, and Tuesday nights are low crime. Anyway, I’ve had a lot of time to think over what you said the last couple of times that I asked you out and… ”

  “What did I say?” she interrupted to ask.

  “‘No’,” he answered, cracking an egg into the mixing bowl. “And I figured that maybe you just don’t like to eat out in public, so…”

  “Did you ever consider that maybe I just don’t like you?”

  “Nope, never crossed my mind,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Hand me the fish, will you? Thanks. I was also thinking maybe you don’t like to eat out because you eat your fish raw or something. So should I bread one for you too or not? I brought enough ingredients either way.” He looked up for the first time, one uncracked egg held expectantly in his hand.

  This was surreal. “Wouldn’t it bother you if I ate the fish raw?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Why? It’s not like you’re making me do it. So that’s a no on the breading then?”

  “No breading,” she confirmed. “I’ll braise mine though.” She picked up one of the fish and started to clean it at the sink, trying to clear her thoughts. “Look, I still haven’t said it’s okay for you to be here,” she finally said.

  “Yeah, I know, but I didn’t ask for permission this time,” he responded. “It’s a new technique I’m trying out for avoiding rejection. How do you think it’s working so far? No, don’t answer that. Pass the oil, will you?”

  They cooked side by side as if they’d been doing it for years, though he needed some help finding things. A couple of times they bumped into each other when they reached for the same utensil at the same time; she shivered to feel him touch her. She set the table, he poured the wine, and they sat down to eat.

  “So do you do this a lot?” she asked. “Stop by women’s houses and cook them dinner?”