The Vindico

by King, Wesley

  Not that they’re ever pleased, she thought dispassionately. Emily knew her bizarre family situation upset her teachers, the ones who cared at least, but it didn’t affect her anymore. She’d dealt with those emotions as a little girl.

  The League of Heroes’ golden crest appeared on her screen: a circle surrounding four silhouettes, three men and one woman, representing the Four Founders. It was the most renowned symbol on the planet, and it meant that Emily had done what no hacker in the world had managed before. She’d cracked the League’s network.

  Her online persona, Black Arrow, was about to become even more infamous.

  But Emily also knew the network was heavily policed, and her intrusion would be detected in moments. She had to move quickly.

  Bypassing the entry screen, Emily ran a search for the archives. She found a folder called Collected Surveillance Footage and started downloading the most recent file.

  A grainy video popped onto the screen, showing a warehouse on a run-down street. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a gray van with tinted windows pulled in front of the warehouse, and a huge man climbed out. He grabbed a metal crate from the back, spared a quick look in either direction, and then hurried inside.

  Emily knew she’d just struck gold. Black Arrow was about to break the story to the world before anyone else: the League did have footage of Nighthawk’s abductor, and he definitely matched the description of the Villain from the Night of Ashes incident. The League was covering it up.

  Just then, an error message appeared: unauthorized access. Emily tried to override it, but the controls were frozen. The file disappeared, and the screen went black. After all that, she’d gotten nothing.

  I’ll try again tomorrow, Emily thought. She was disappointed, but it was to be expected. That would have been too easy.

  Sighing, Emily glanced at the clock. 3:30 A.M. It was getting late, even for her. It was only Thursday, and she had to be up at seven for school. Rubbing her eyes, she looked down and saw that her black eyeliner had smeared off on her fingers.

  After washing the eyeliner off in the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, only to decide she was still hungry. Emily shuffled down the stairs in the darkness, her feet just skimming over the carpet. She flicked on the kitchen light and began pawing through the cupboards. After stuffing a wide assortment of items into her mouth, including a handful of chips, four Sour Patch kids, a dipped finger of peanut butter, and a leftover chicken wing, she switched off the light again and left the kitchen.

  As she walked back toward the stairs, Emily felt her skin prickle. She froze. This wasn’t the first time she’d had this feeling: like she was being watched.

  Emily was somewhat of a paranoid kid growing up. When she was four, she told her parents that she was going to be abducted by a group of gnome-like people who would need her to save their world. At ten, she’d been convinced that an otherworldly race was observing her through her window, trying to discern if she was in fact one of their own trapped in a humanoid body.

  But for the last few days, she had really felt it. This time, she knew someone was finally here for her. But who were they? Could the League have tracked her hacking attempts already? Had they come to arrest her?

  Emily backed against the wall, senses alert. Her eyes were accustomed to the darkness, but the kitchen lights had momentarily blinded her. She scanned the hallway, trying to see through the glowing spots in her vision.

  Emily stalked forward, bending slightly.

  “I know you’re here,” she whispered. “I’m not afraid. Who are you?”

  There was no answer.

  “Come out,” Emily said, louder this time. “Show yourself.”

  She thought she heard a quiet voice coming from behind the bathroom door, and she tiptoed toward it.

  Emily was just reaching for the door when it burst open.

  A short man stepped into the hallway. He was wearing a long brown trench coat, and a silver visor curved around the side of his head, covering his left eye. His dark skin almost made him invisible in the shadows.

  “Who are you?” Emily asked. “I don’t recognize you. You’re not a League member. Well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. You’re coming for me.”

  The short man shifted a little, looking confused, and then a woman stepped out behind him. She was wearing a scarlet bodysuit.

  “What are you waiting for, exactly?” the woman asked the man. There was no mistaking the threat in her flashing green eyes.

  Emily looked at her. “You’re quite beautiful. You have a fantasy look to you, like an elf.”

  The woman raised one slender eyebrow.

  “I’m going to stun you now,” the man said, hoisting a gun. “Sorry, it’s a formality.”

  Emily took a step backward. “That’s a strange formality. I have to say, I would rather you didn’t. And now that I take a second to think about it, you don’t particularly look like good guys. It’s the odd pairing maybe, or the unspoken threat of the elf woman. After all, why would you be stunning me if you weren’t evil?”

  “It will all be explained,” the man said. “This won’t hurt.”

  “I should probably leave a note. I’m going to my grandpa’s house tomorrow night, and he’ll be worried if I don’t show up.”

  “I’ll send him a message,” he told her.

  “Please stun her,” the woman said.

  “Right.” He thrust the stun gun toward Emily, but she took another quick step backward and put her hands on her hips.

  “It’s not very polite to just fly at me with it,” Emily reprimanded.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Can I stun you now?”

  “Now I’m not so sure,” she said haughtily. She had been inching toward the hall closet, and now her hands found the doorknob.

  “Watch her…” the woman warned.

  The man started toward Emily. “Now, that’s enough. Don’t make me use this one.” He gestured at the rifle slung over his back.

  Emily narrowed her eyes. “You’ll be sorry, then.”

  All at once, Emily threw open the closet door behind her and grabbed a wooden cane. The man rushed forward to stun her, but she wheeled out of the way and smashed the cane into his arm. The stun gun clattered to the ground, and he swore under his breath, clutching his wrist. The woman laughed.

  Emily circled to the left, the cane pointed in their direction. “I am not a defenseless maiden to be captured at whim.”

  The man scowled and swung the larger rifle around.

  But before he could pull the trigger, Emily’s cane lashed out and hit the barrel of the weapon, knocking it from his hands. She took a big step toward him, ready to swipe at his feet. In a flash, the woman was beside her, holding the cane in an iron grip.

  Emily glanced at her. “You are like an elf.”

  The man picked up his stun gun and fired into Emily’s stomach.

  5

  SAM YAWNED AND SLID OUT OF BED. THE SMELL OF BACON WAS wafting in from the hallway, so he quickly grabbed the prearranged Friday outfit from his desk chair.

  It was his favorite outfit of the week: a pair of crisp jeans and a baggy red shirt that he affectionately called his tunic. Wearing a tunic seemed very heroic and chivalrous, so on Fridays, Sam made a special effort to fulfill those virtues. As a true supporter of the League of Heroes, it was the least he could do. But despite his best efforts at chivalry, Sam was still picked on by just about every kid in school, and he couldn’t understand why. Even the younger grades made fun of him.

  Sam wasn’t about to quit now, though. His hero, Captain Courage, wouldn’t let a little name-calling and shoving get to him, so neither would he.

  He glanced at the Courage action figure on his dresser, wearing the League’s famed navy-blue uniform. It was his most prized collectible. Five years ago, Captain Courage had disappeared without a trace. Sam still remembered that day, even though he was only six years old at the time: the panicked headlines, Phoenix’s grave public address. After that, they
’d stopped making Courage merchandise.

  Once he was dressed, Sam trotted down the stairs, his curly black hair bouncing as he went. He was the shortest one in his entire grade and so skinny that a soccer ball had once knocked him over in gym class. Even the teacher had laughed at him for that.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Sam said brightly as he entered the kitchen. As usual, his mother was busy cooking, and his father was shoveling down breakfast before work.

  “Good morning, Sammy,” his mother replied, turning from the stove. “How did you sleep?”

  Sam took a seat at the table next to his father. “Perfectly, thank you.”

  His father stood up immediately. “I’m going to work.”

  “Bye, Dad,” Sam said. “Have a great day.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, and walked out of the kitchen.

  Sam didn’t talk to his father very much anymore. He used to coach Sam’s baseball team, but now that Sam had given it up, it seemed they had nothing to talk about. Sam would have kept playing, but it got a little boring sitting on the bench all game. He didn’t even get to swing the bat.

  His mother handed him a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast just as his older brother, Hugh, moped into the kitchen. Hugh shuffled to the counter, saw that his breakfast wasn’t ready, and then plopped down at the table. Sam’s brother was almost a carbon copy of their father, from his athletic build to his dark skin. Sam had a slightly lighter complexion, like his mother’s, adding to the long list of things the brothers didn’t have in common.

  “Morning, Hughie,” Sam said. “How you feeling today?”

  He glared at Sam. “Don’t call me that. I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s Hugh.”

  “I like Hughie better.”

  “I don’t care,” Hugh snarled.

  “Be nice,” their mother cut in. “Hugh, your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  As usual, the brothers ate in silence.

  “Thank you,” Sam said, bringing his empty plate to the counter.

  “You’re very welcome,” his mother replied.

  Sam threw on his overfull backpack and headed out the door.

  His school was only a ten-minute walk, and homeroom didn’t start for thirty minutes. But Sam liked to leave early, just in case he witnessed a traffic accident or some other sudden cause for heroism. He also liked to sit down at his desk before the other kids arrived so he could avoid being picked on in the hallways.

  Sam had just started down the sidewalk when he noticed an elderly woman about to cross the street. And on a Friday! he thought.

  “Excuse me, ma’am!” he called, hurrying over. “Do you need any help?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Sure,” she said at last, extending a frail arm. “Why not?”

  “You can never be too careful,” Sam told her as he looked both ways.

  “Especially you,” she replied meaningfully. “If I were a child, I would be afraid to walk to school.”

  “Right,” Sam replied. He had no idea what she was talking about.

  He dropped her off on the sidewalk, and she turned to him. “Don’t talk to any more strangers today, understand? It’s not safe.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “And lock your windows. Some have been taken right out of their bedrooms!”

  “Okay,” Sam murmured, backing away. She was starting to scare him. “Bye, now.”

  Sam hurried on his way, disturbed by the old woman’s warning. He stayed well clear of an old gray van parked by the curb and turned onto another road. But soon, he had forgotten all about the woman’s strange words and was instead thinking about how heroic it had been to help her cross the street. If only the kids at school had seen that.

  As he turned the next corner, Sam felt a strange sensation at the back of his head. He slowed down and scratched it. Deciding it was nothing, he picked up his step again. Then he heard a quiet voice.

  Slow down, it was saying. Go to sleep.

  “I can’t miss school,” Sam said out loud without thinking. “What if there’s a pop quiz?”

  The voice grew louder, though it seemed like it was coming from far away. Slow down, it said again. Go to sleep. It was almost as if they were his own thoughts now, and his eyelids were becoming increasingly heavy.

  Sam’s pace slowed again, until he was barely shuffling along the sidewalk. How strange to get so tired, Sam thought. As soon as he broke the repeating message, a slight burst of energy flooded his limbs. But then the voice got even louder, and Sam slowed almost to a halt, his eyes barely open.

  He looked around and saw a comfortable-looking patch of grass. So he walked over to it, lay down, and curled into a ball. People stared as they drove by.

  That’s okay, he thought. They won’t mind if I sleep for a bit. Or maybe it was the voice speaking. He couldn’t tell which was which anymore.

  Just as Sam closed his eyes, he heard a vehicle screech to a stop and felt large, powerful hands lift him. Maybe it’s Mom, he thought happily. But her hands seemed rather big, and she smelled kind of bad today. Oh well, Sam mused. Then he fell fast asleep.

  6

  JAMES BLINKED, STRAINING TO OPEN HIS HEAVY EYELIDS. He saw a flash of crimson and then closed them again, confused. He had never felt so groggy in his life and wondered how long he’d been asleep. Only then did he remember how he had gone to sleep in the first place.

  The giant punched me! James thought. It had been like getting hit in the face with a truck.

  His mind began to clear, and James realized that he was lying flat on his back. As he sat up, he saw that he was in a bedroom furnished with very expensive-looking furniture. A large mahogany dresser stood beside the queen-sized bed he was lying in, along with a matching night table and a small chair. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep crimson.

  He got up and quietly snuck toward the door, afraid of alerting his captors. He didn’t know why he’d been abducted, but it obviously wasn’t random. The giant had used his name.

  He eased the handle of the bedroom door open and gingerly poked his head out, terrified of finding the enormous man standing guard. The bedroom was in the middle of a short hallway, finished in the same dark red color as the room he woke up in. To his right was a bare wall, but to his left, the hallway opened into a larger room, and there were two more identical black doors along the way. It was completely silent.

  James crept along the wall, subconsciously hunching as he went. He stopped at the first door, turned the knob, and peeked inside.

  It was another bedroom, and a boy was lying there, blinking at the ceiling. Before James could say anything, the boy stretched and sat up.

  “This isn’t my room,” he said pleasantly, as if discussing the news.

  The boy looked tall, even sitting on the bed, and he was handsome, with blue eyes, high cheekbones, and brown hair that looked almost purposefully messy. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of gray boxers that were well past their prime.

  “Very strange,” the boy continued, looking thoughtful. “It’s coming back to me now. I was drugged by a hot blonde who wanted me to move her TV. I remember it all perfectly, actually. I wonder what they used.”

  He didn’t seem overly concerned about the fact that he had been drugged and kidnapped.

  The boy perched himself on the edge of the bed. “Hayden, by the way. Look at me, rambling on without even asking your name. You look like a Eugene. Close?”

  James raised his eyebrows. “James. Back up a second. You got drugged by a blond woman?”

  “Yeah. I assumed she was a cop, but I don’t think it’s standard practice to drug someone when you arrest them,” he said, looking around the bedroom. “That, and the fact that this would be the nicest prison I’ve ever seen. Did she get you too?”

  James shook his head. “No, two men. One of them punched me in the face.”

  “That’s rough,” Hayden said, climbing to his feet. “And now here we are. S
peaking of which, where are we?”

  “I don’t know,” James replied. “It looks like a weird house or something, but I’m not sure.”

  “Well, let’s find out,” Hayden said simply, and walked out into the hallway.

  “We should be a little quieter,” James whispered, rubbing his eye. It felt swollen, but not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. And his wrist seemed to be almost completely healed, which was just as strange.

  Hayden opened the door across the hall and looked inside. “Here’s another one!”

  James hurried over. A girl was lying on the bed, her pale face framed by a tangle of black hair. She was still asleep.

  Hayden walked right over to the bed and shook her. “Wake up!”

  Immediately, the girl’s eyes shot open, and she grabbed Hayden’s wrist. “Are you with the elf woman?” she asked in a low voice.

  Hayden glanced at James. “The elf woman?”

  “Yes,” she continued, still clutching Hayden’s arm. “The one who abducted me. She was with a small man wearing a visor.”

  “This is getting weird,” James muttered.

  “Are you abductors or abductees?” she asked sharply.

  “Abductees,” Hayden assured her, wincing as her fingernails dug into his skin.

  The girl released him. “Oh, sorry.” She climbed to her feet and scanned James. He felt uncomfortable under her intense gaze.

  “We should keep moving,” Hayden said slowly, starting for the door. “You want to come…?”

  “Emily,” she said.

  James and Emily followed him down the hall, and together they walked out into a huge, rectangular sitting area. It was as big as the entire main floor of James’s house, and the ceiling was at least two stories high. But despite its size, the room was sparsely furnished.

  Four black leather couches ringed a wooden coffee table, while another two recliners sat off to the side. A second table stood between the recliners, set up with a white and black marble chessboard. The walls were bare, except for the one opposite the hallway they’d emerged from, which was almost entirely covered by a floor-to-ceiling mirror.