by Lucas Flint
The Necromantress turned around. “Dennis and the Necromantress may no longer be husband and wife, but that doesn’t mean her feelings for him have entirely gone away. Seeing Dennis today reminded the Necromantress of the man she fell in love with, the man who is still there somewhere. She cannot kill that man, so she shall let him live for now.”
I blinked again. “That makes no sense at all.”
“You will understand when you are older,” said the Necromantress, again without looking at me. “Take Dennis to the hospital to get his wounds treated. Don’t worry about the Necromantress. She shall leave Golden City without harming a single soul. That, the Necromantress can promise you.”
With that, the Necromantress walked through the crowd of zombies. As soon as she disappeared from view, all of the zombies suddenly collapsed, like someone had knocked out their legs from underneath them. As for the Necromantress, she was nowhere to be seen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
One week later …
I walked through the halls of Golden City General Hospital. That normally would not have made me feel very strange or awkward, because I’d visited this hospital before. What made it kind of awkward was the fact that I was in full Beams costume, complete with helmet and visor. As a result, the various doctors, nurses, hospital workers, and patients who wandered the halls of the Hospital kept glancing at me or whispering my name to their friend like I was some kind of rare cryptid spotted in the wild. Granted, some of the nurses were pretty cute, but most of the attention I got was the kind of attention a movie star or famous athlete would get if he walked through a normal city hospital, and I found that I didn’t like it as much as I expected.
But for safety purposes, I had to wear my costume, because if I didn’t, I risked exposing my secret identity to the public. After all, Rubberman didn’t usually get a whole lot of visitors whenever he was in the Hospital recovering from injuries he sustained from fighting crime on the streets, so anyone who visited him was usually speculated to be Beams unless everyone knew for sure that the visitor wasn’t me. At least I didn’t have to worry about the media trying to enter Rubberman’s room to take pictures and get interviews. The front desk receptionist (a cute brunette in her twenties) had explained to me that Rubberman forbid any media figures or reporters from visiting him while he was in the hospital. This, the receptionist explained, was to ensure Rubberman got the peace and quiet he needed to rest in order to heal up after his injuries.
Not that that stopped the media from setting up shop elsewhere in the Hospital, though. When I first arrived in the Hospital lobby, I was mobbed by a dozen reporters from various new stations, both local and national, to talk about Iron Angel and the Vigilante Legion. Remembering Rubberman’s advice about not talking to the media, I managed to make it past the reporters and into the elevator to take me to the second floor, where Rubberman’s room was, although there was one scary moment where one of the reporters tried to force his way into the elevator with me. The behavior of the reporters reminded me an awful lot about the behavior of the Necromantress’ zombies, except the zombies were far more polite and probably more honest, too.
But I couldn’t blame them. All week, everyone had been talking nonstop about Iron Angel and the Vigilante Legion and their antics in Golden City. Some people talked about the Necromantress, too, but because Iron Angel was once one of the most famous superheroes in the world, the media was more keen to discuss his fall from grace and how he became the Superhero Killer.
As it turned out, Iron Angel had somehow survived taking a direct hit from the Rubbermobile. Rubberman theorized that Iron Angel’s armor had taken the brunt of the blow, which made me wonder just what the hell his armor was made out of.
Of course, just because Iron Angel survived didn’t mean he was in good health. Super suit or not, any sixty-something-year-old dude who got hit by a car like that was going to end up worse off than if he hadn’t been hit. From what I had heard, Iron Angel was now paralyzed from the legs down, as the Rubbermobile had shattered his spine. He was also in Golden City General, though as far as I knew, he was being kept in Intensive Care and being protected by a couple of police officers just to make sure that he didn’t escape or get rescued by some of his fellow vigilantes. I had no intention of visiting him.
Also, Iron Angel’s face got horribly disfigured from the resurrection potion being exploded in his face. I still hadn’t seen it myself—I was still too freaked out by Hissteria’s own melted face to want to see another one—but Rubberman told me that most of the damage actually came from the glass shards of the jar cutting into Iron Angel’s flesh when the jar blew up. I had seen pictures of Iron Angel online, though, and his face was totally bandaged, leaving only two dull yet angry-looking eyes peering out between the wrappings like some kind of mummy.
While Iron Angel was going to be going to jail, his fellow vigilantes weren’t, mostly because they had been torn apart by the Necromantress’ zombies. Seeing their body parts scattered here and there like so much trash was one of the most sickening sights in my life. I might have hated those monsters, but I wouldn’t wish that sort of fate on even my worst enemy.
In any event, what remained of the Vigilante Legion in Golden City had fled when they learned of their leader’s defeat. That’s what Chief Williams told me, anyway. His officers tried to go after the few vigilantes who had not come with their leader to the graveyard, but they’d fled like mice from a cat. I had hoped that this meant the Legion was done for, but Chief Williams said that there was reason to suspect that the Legion was still out there and that they would likely try to rescue their leader at some point. Remembering what Iron Angel had said about vigilantes being all over the country, I couldn’t disagree, although I was worried that the vigilantes would be back for more than just rescuing their leader. They’d probably want vengeance. More specifically, vengeance on me and Rubberman, because we defeated their leader in the first place.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly walked by Room 21, which I remembered was Rubberman’s room. Stopping before the door, I pushed it open and peered inside to make sure that Rubberman wasn’t asleep at the moment.
Rubberman sat upright in his bed, swiping his thumb across the screen of his smartphone, apparently oblivious to the fact that I had opened the door. He was not wearing his costume like he normally did. Instead, he wore a simple blue hospital gown that hung loosely over his body. His hair, however, was still as neatly combed back as ever, which seemed like an odd thing to prioritize in the hospital, but I guess Rubberman believed in keeping up appearances even while he was recovering from a terrible fight.
I knocked on the door and said, “Hey, Rubberman. It’s me.”
Rubberman suddenly looked up at me and smiled, although it was a weaker smile than normal. “Beams! Welcome. Step in and close the door, please. The nurses here are so nosy and I don’t want them overhearing our private conversation.”
I nodded, stepped into the room, and closed the door firmly behind me. Then I turned to face Rubberman again, who had placed his smartphone on the pile of cards on the table next to his bed.
“Where did all of those cards come from?” I asked. “Who are they from?”
“My fans, of course,” said Rubberman. He smiled when he glanced at the cards. “Every time I go to the hospital, I always get lots of get well cards from my fans and supporters. There’s this little old lady, in particular, who has faithfully sent me a card every time I’ve gone to the hospital over the last five years. Says I remind her of her grandson, who is also a superhero, and she always says she’s praying for me, too.” He shrugged. “I don’t even announce my hospital visits to anyone, but people always find out anyway. Probably the media. Those jokers couldn’t keep a secret if their lives depended on it.”
“I take it you’re getting better?” I said.
Rubberman nodded. He patted his chest. “Yes. The surgeon managed to fix the worst of it. At this point, my healing factor should kick in
and I should be okay.”
I sighed in relief. “That’s good to hear. My shoulders have been healing quickly as well. What about Adams?”
“They let him out of the hospital yesterday,” said Rubberman. He chuckled. “Despite his age, he recovered so well that the doctor declared him healthy enough to go home.”
“Adams is a tough old guy, all right,” I said. “What about you? When are you going to be released? It’s been a week now. Will it be sometime within the next day or two?”
Rubberman suddenly frowned. He sighed. “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk with you about. Despite the best efforts of the surgeon, they want to keep me in here for an additional four weeks.”
“Four weeks?” I repeated in shock. “Why four weeks? It never takes you that long to recover from a fight.”
Rubberman rubbed the back of his neck and winced. “As it turns out, I suffered a lot of internal damage this time. All of my organs are still working, but the doctor insisted that I stay in the hospital so they can carefully monitor my organs. They want to make sure I don’t have a sudden organ failure and collapse in the middle of public, or worse, in the middle of fighting a criminal on the street.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Sure, you got your chest cut open, but you’ve taken worse injuries than that before and survived.”
“I know,” said Rubberman, nodding. “Unfortunately, I’m not as young as I used to be. Not healing as quickly as I normally do, either. I’d rather be back in the office working, but I’ve decided to trust the doctor’s judgment this time. I’ve already arranged for Adams to clean up the Elastic Cave and keep things running while I’m away, though things are definitely going to be slow, business-wise, for the next four weeks.”
I bit my lower lip. “Well, if you say so, boss. I’ll still come to work and just help Adams, then.”
“Actually, I don’t want you coming to work while I’m away,” said Rubberman. “I have something else I need you to do, something that will keep you from going to work for quite a while.”
I frowned. “Are you telling me to go on vacation? Not that I would be against that, but—”
“It’s not a vacation,” said Rubberman. “Well, not technically, anyway, because you will be doing more training than resting.”
“Training?” I repeated. “Training where? In the Rubber Room?”
“No,” said Rubberman, shaking his head. “I’ve arranged for you to stay with my mentor, the retired superhero Nightbolt, in West Texas for the next four weeks. He will train you in combat, among other areas, while I’m resting in the hospital.”
“Your mentor?” I said. “I didn’t know you had a mentor.”
“Yes, you did, though you probably don’t remember,” said Rubberman. “Remember how I mentioned that I had had a mentor once, despite not being a sidekick? That mentor was Nightbolt. He’s agreed to train you while I’m recovering in the hospital.”
“This is cool and all, but why?” I said. “I’m your sidekick. Doesn’t that mean you are supposed to train me yourself?”
“I have been training you myself,” said Rubberman. He sighed. “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to teach you what you need to know while I’m in the hospital. Nightbolt has been a superhero much longer than me, even longer than Iron Angel actually. He’s trained many sidekicks and superheroes, so he should be able to impart you with knowledge and skills I don’t have. Also, the Elastic Cave will need to be repaired, which will take a while given how much damage the Legion caused.”
I had no idea what to say. This all seemed so sudden and I still wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not. “Wow, Rubberman, this is, uh, nice of you and all, but why this sudden decision to have me train under your mentor? What’s changed?”
Rubberman smiled grimly. “The Vigilante Legion, for one. It’s true that we beat their leader, but the rest of the organization is still out there, and they’re not going to take this lying down. They’ll come after us, and when they do, they’ll show us even less mercy than Iron Angel. I want you to be ready for that, and I know that Nightbolt can prepare you in ways that I can’t.”
“But we did so well against Iron Angel and his vigilantes,” I said. “Why do I need special training to deal with the rest of them?”
Rubberman sighed. “Because most of our training so far has covered dealing with normal street criminals. Oh, sure, we’ve dealt with supervillains before, but it’s always been irregular and usually required extraordinary circumstances in which to beat them. Think about this time. If Shawna hadn’t helped us, I’m sure Iron Angel would have killed us both in cold blood.”
I had to admit that Rubberman had a point. “So what, do you think we’ll face more supervillains in the future?”
“Undoubtedly,” said Rubberman. “The Vigilante Legion is made up entirely of former superheroes and sidekicks. While I don’t know all of them, I bet more than a few of them are stronger and more experienced than us. Should they try to storm the Elastic Cave again, they’d probably slaughter all three of us without much effort. Therefore, you need specialized training to prepare for them, and Nightbolt specializes in training superheroes how to fight supervillains.”
I nodded. “I see. But what about school? And my parents? I don’t think my parents would like me going out to West Texas all by myself to train with some stranger they don’t even know, especially if that meant skipping school.”
“Oh, I’ve already discussed this with your parents,” said Rubberman. “They’ve agreed to it. They have also called the school to approve of your time off. They told the school you are taking a special study program to help boost your mediocre grades, which seemed to work, given how the school approved of your time off fairly quickly. All you need to do now is pack and get ready to go the day after tomorrow.”
The slight about my ‘mediocre’ grades had offended me, but when I heard that last bit, I said, “Day after tomorrow?”
“Yep,” said Rubberman. “It’s going to be a four hour drive. Just be at the Elastic Cave’s secret grocery store front entrance at eight. Adams will be there and he’ll send you on your way, so don’t worry about travel arrangements.”
All of this came so quickly that I hadn’t processed all of it. “This just seems so, uh, abrupt.”
“It is, but we have no idea when the Vigilante Legion will attack again, so the faster we get your training complete, the better,” said Rubberman. “It’ll just be for four weeks and then you can come home. Think of it as continuing education in how to be a sidekick, if that will help you understand it.”
“I … guess it will,” I said. “I guess I should go home and get packed, huh?”
“Good idea,” said Rubberman. “Unless you have any questions about all of this, that is.”
“No … well, not regarding this, anyway,” I said. “I wanted to ask you about the Necromantress.”
“Shawna?” said Rubberman. He frowned. “She’s gone. Chief Williams told me that she hasn’t been spotted in Golden City since the incident in the graveyard. Why do you want to know about her?”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to know what you thought about her sparing us back there. She said something about not being able to kill the man she fell in love with, but it didn’t make any sense to me and I wanted to see if you understood.”
Rubberman still frowned, but his frown did not look as grim as it normally did. “Yes, I understood it. And I agree with Shawna that you won’t until you’re older.”
“I know, but it still makes no sense to me,” I said. “I thought that divorced people hate each other. You two seem to hate each other. Yet it seemed to me like the Necromantress almost … well, still loves you, in her own weird, twisted way.”
Rubberman looked out the window, as if lost in thought. “Divorce isn’t some magical spell that takes away a person’s feelings. Shawna, on some level, probably still loves me, though she’d never admit it. She is so consumed
with jealousy and hatred that she would never let herself think about her old feelings. I was surprised that she spared us this time, because I was sure she would have killed us there and then like she has been trying to do for five years.” He shrugged. “Maybe Shawna isn’t as lost as I thought.”
“Do you … do you still love her?” I asked hesitatingly.
Rubberman looked at me, his frown still on his lips. “Does it matter if I do?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just—”
“Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed,” said Rubberman. “You still have a lot to learn, both as a superhero and as a man. One day, you’ll understand this, but until then, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, despite feeling embarrassed. “Well, I’m leaving. See you later.”
“Bye,” said Rubberman. “And watch out for those reporters in the lobby. They’ll try to jump you as soon as they see you. I give you permission to use your eye beams to fight them off if you have to.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, boss, no worries there. I already know how to get around them, but thanks for the advice.”
I turned to leave, but all of a sudden, I remembered something I needed to ask Rubberman. I looked over my shoulder at him and said, “Hey, boss, I’ve got one last thing I need to ask you before I leave.”
Rubberman—who had gone back to looking at his smartphone—suddenly looked up at me again, frowning at me in confusion. “What is it?”
“I know I’m not allowed to do interviews with the media, but can I do that interview with my friend, Frank, that I asked you about before?” I said. “Because I promised to him that I would get this interview scheduled and I don’t want to keep putting it off and possibly disappoint him by failing to do it.”