Flash

by Susan Griffith

  Oliver settled cross-legged in the grass. “Sit there.” When Barry joined him, feeling a little silly, Oliver continued, “We are going to practice tactical breathing. Breathe in through your nose to the count of four. Then hold it to the count of four. Then release it through your mouth to the count of four. Then hold to the count of four, before you take another breath.” He demonstrated.

  “Is that it?” Barry asked. “That’s pretty simple, but it can’t really work for me. I can run to Star City and back in that amount of time.”

  “Time means nothing to you. Meditation isn’t a factor of time. It’s about focus. About the count of four—not the amount of time it takes. The purpose of a breathing exercise is to force your mind to return to the present. Stop thinking about what has happened, or what might happen. Think about what is happening.” He gestured for Barry to begin.

  Barry started to breathe, counting internally. Slowly in. Hold. Out. Hold. Repeat. The October sun warmed his face. Grass brushed against his forearms. Wind rattled the cornstalks. A bird whistled in the distance.

  He felt his leg muscles tugging. His ribs ached as his chest filled and emptied. His toes wiggled inside his sneakers. He felt the tips of his fingers brushing his palms. His chest rose and fell.

  He really should be looking for Rathaway.

  “What just happened?” Oliver asked.

  “Nothing. I’m breathing like you said.”

  “You were, but then your mind went somewhere else. I saw it in your face.”

  Barry sighed and stood up. “Yeah. I couldn’t help thinking about what I need to be doing, instead of sitting in a field meditating.”

  Oliver regained his feet. “The next time you blur, you might not come back.”

  “Oh, thanks. That calmed me down.”

  “The point is, there’s nothing more important for you at this moment than sitting in a field meditating. You can do this, Barry. You’ve already done it, but you just don’t realize it.”

  “I have?”

  “You said yourself that you’ve felt the blur coming on, and you managed to hold it off. How?”

  Barry thought back to the incident with the bullet and Captain Singh in the window. It had seemed as if he was going to blur then, but he managed to seize the bullet anyway.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think. What happened?”

  “I had to grab the bullet to keep it from hitting a man.” Barry mimicked reaching out with thumb and forefinger, plucking an object out of the air. “I thought I was blurring as I was running in to help him, but I got the bullet anyway.”

  “Were you thinking about the man, or the bullet?”

  “Both. The bullet was going to hit the man. I don’t get what you’re saying.”

  “You said when you hit Mardon with lightning at the reservoir, you thought you might blur, but you didn’t.” Oliver began to swing the bow around his head and shoulders in a series of exercises.

  “I know, but then I blurred when I was just running toward him. Is there any chance there isn’t a pattern?”

  “No. When you were hurling lightning at Mardon, were you thinking about Joe or John? Or were you thinking about the lightning?”

  “Well, throwing lightning is tricky. Generating it is one thing, but controlling it takes a lot of focus.”

  Oliver froze with his bow over his head. He regarded Barry expectantly.

  “Focus,” Barry repeated, this time with excitement.

  “Yes.”

  “I was focused on the bullet, and on the lightning.”

  “Yes. Not on the consequences, not on the possibility that you could fail. Only on the task itself.”

  “I was in the zone, I guess. Is that what you’re trying to teach me? That seems easy.”

  Oliver laughed—a rare sound. “Doesn’t it?”

  “So I just need to think about… wait, what now? Focus on running? But that feeds the plasma. I still have to move at superspeed.”

  “Don’t get too far away from the moment you just had. Focus is the key, but in your case you can’t depend on a bullet or lightning every time you need it. You need to bring your focus with you. You need a trigger. Something that will remind you, when you’re about to blur, that you need to stop.”

  “Stop?”

  “Not literally, but stop thinking along one path, and switch to another. Focus. Center. Breathe. Become aware of yourself in the moment. The moment is all that matters. Bring your mind inward. One step after another. That’s how a path is formed.”

  Barry wanted to understand. He wanted to recapture that light bulb moment he thought he’d just had—until he tried to apply it to the real world. It was just beyond his fingertips. So frustrating. He didn’t know if he could think about so many things in the middle of a fight. If someone lost their life because he hesitated, because he stopped to breathe or contemplate, it would destroy him.

  “Barry!” Oliver said loudly. “You’re overthinking it. You have to give yourself permission to stop. To stop being afraid for everyone, all the time. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, but that doesn’t mean I can do it.”

  “I know.”

  “I realize you want to help me,” Barry said. “So I guess you’ve mastered this not-being-afraid-for-everyone thing?”

  Oliver stared at Barry quietly as he nocked the arrow. He turned his torso, keeping his eyes locked on Barry, and fired. The arrow drove into the trunk of a maple tree. Then Barry realized it had pinned the final leaf—as it fluttered toward the ground.

  “Well enough,” Oliver said.

  “Okay, that was impressive. But to be fair, that leaf wasn’t attacking anyone you love.”

  “What was your favorite toy when you were young?” Oliver asked out of the blue.

  Barry wondered why, but it wasn’t a hard one. “Microscope.”

  Oliver tilted his head. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Barry grinned. “It was so cool. I had all these slides like a fly’s wing and an eyelash and—”

  “Okay, here’s what I need you to do. When you start to blur, you think of that microscope and how you… loved looking through it?”

  “Don’t say it like it’s a question,” Barry protested. “I did love looking through it. I spent hours with that thing. Couldn’t wait for the weekend so I could just take time to work with my microscope.”

  “Hm. Okay. So that’s your trigger. Think of that time. That experience. Recreate the focus you brought to that moment. Can you do that?”

  “I guess.” He paused. “I can.”

  “Let’s practice breathing again, and this time I want you to associate the breathing and the mindfulness with that microscope.”

  “I can think of something different, if you want.”

  “No. It’s your thing.”

  “It’s just I get the sense you don’t like the microscope.”

  “It’s not mine to like or dislike. Let’s sit down again and practice breathing techniques.”

  Both of them settled back into the grass. “Remember your timing. Keep to it. Don’t think of anything but your breathing, and your microscope.”

  They sat quietly, surrounded by the sounds of the meadow and the cornfield. Time passed and Barry began to hear nothing but his own breathing. Amazingly he could feel the pressure of the microscope on his eye, and smell the plastic and steel. He was tempted to reach out and adjust the lens. The comfort and safety of his room surrounded him, the hours of freedom to explore and learn.

  “What was your favorite toy?” he asked.

  “Probably the Ferrari Testarossa I got for my fifteenth birthday.”

  More time passed in silence.

  “Did I mention my microscope came with its own light bulb?”

  “Breathe, Barry, breathe.”

  36

  “Oh my God!” Iris leaned toward the open car window so cold air could whip over her face. “I forgot how much I love nice weather.”

  “It’s a lit
tle chilly, don’t you think?” Caitlin clutched her jacket at the neck.

  “It’s not raining. Or hailing. Or tornadoing.” She grinned, but then noticed her companion’s trembling fingers. “Cold?”

  “No, I’ll be okay.”

  Iris brought the window up. She turned on the heat.

  “Sorry. I’m just so happy to see blue sky. I forgot it’s fall.” Caitlin smiled distantly and stared out the window. “This won’t take long. You can get back to work soon.”

  “I’m not thinking about work.” Caitlin checked her phone.

  “Expecting a call?”

  “No, I’ve got a sequencer running on Barry’s DNA, and it will send results to me when it’s finished.”

  Iris’s fingers went stiff on the steering wheel. “Do you think there’s something wrong with his DNA?”

  “I don’t know,” Caitlin admitted somberly. “I don’t seem to know anything. No one has ever tried to diagnose a metahuman infected by a temporal plasma. There’s nothing on WebMD about it.”

  Iris laughed. “Well, I’m glad you decided to come with me while I do this boring legwork. It’s nice to have you here—I get tired of talking to myself, and I don’t have a lot of friends. It’s kind of hard with the life we lead, you know?”

  “I do.” Caitlin smiled genuinely. “It is good to get out of the lab for an afternoon, get a little perspective, eat something other than delivery. And it is a beautiful day. It’s been so nice since Barry and Oliver captured Weather Wizard.”

  “That was days ago, too, and we still haven’t heard anything more from Hartley Rathaway. Do you think he may have left town after we caught Mardon and Bivolo?”

  “No.” Caitlin was firm. “Hartley doesn’t give up. He’s always had a chip on his shoulder, and he doesn’t like to lose. Whatever he intends to do, he won’t stop ’til it’s done.”

  “All the more reason to find his lair, as Cisco calls it.” Iris turned left into a small street near Central City University. It was an older neighborhood nestled next to the college, consisting mainly of faculty and student housing.

  Caitlin checked her phone again.

  “I have to admit, I like having Team Arrow around, because it takes some weight off Barry,” she admitted. “Plus, I can be here while Felicity is back at the lab, working with Cisco. There’s still hope she can pull off a miracle of some sort with that Palmer Tech research.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Iris wheeled into a cul-de-sac. Cruising slowly around the street, she craned her neck, checking house numbers. “There’s the address.”

  She pulled up to the curb and they got out at a tiny bungalow in need of paint and window screens. Several large plastic garbage cans overflowing with crushed beer cans cluttered the lawn. Cheap beer at that. College student beer.

  “Oh my,” Caitlin muttered as she kicked past taco wrappers and empty potato-chip bags. “This is a side of college I never encountered.”

  Iris smiled but stayed silent. They crossed the trash-strewn yard and stepped up on the bare concrete stoop. Iris pressed the doorbell and knocked. Silence. She repeated. And again.

  Finally a shuffling noise came from inside.

  The door swung open to reveal a bearded young man, maybe twenty. His hair swirled uncontrollably. His eyes bleary slits, he stood in his underwear and mumbled.

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh. Well, hello.” Iris tried not to stare or laugh while Caitlin turned around to face the street. “Hi. Are you Marshall Chen?”

  “What?”

  “Marshall Chen.”

  “What?”

  Iris and Caitlin exchanged amused looks.

  “What is your name?”

  “I was sleeping.”

  “To be fair, it is only three pm,” Caitlin offered. “Can we give him a few minutes to collect his thoughts? And his pants.”

  “Marshall,” Iris said louder.

  The man scrunched his face. “You looking for Marshall?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are you Amy?”

  “No. Is Marshall here?”

  “Uh. Maybe.” The guy pointed at Caitlin. “Are you Amy?”

  “Yes,” Iris responded quickly. “She’s Amy, and she wants to see Marshall.”

  The man looked Caitlin up and down. He turned and shouted, “Marshall! Amy!” Then he staggered away from the door, leaving Iris and Caitlin standing there.

  After a few minutes, another door opened inside and a new young man came toward the front. He was a little more put together, clean-shaven, wearing both pants and a shirt. He stepped onto the porch and peered out beyond the two women.

  “Did you guys see a girl out here?”

  “Are you Marshall Chen?”

  “Yeah.” Marshall looked from Iris to Caitlin. “Wait. Did Amy send two of her friends to break up with me?”

  Iris smiled. “We don’t know Amy, but I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind. My name is Iris West, and I work for the Central City Picture News.”

  “Oh yeah?” He scratched through his hair. “I see your site sometimes.”

  “This is Dr. Caitlin Snow. She works for S.T.A.R. Labs.”

  “S.T.A.R. Labs?” Marshall brightened and grew more attentive. “For real? I didn’t think there was a S.T.A.R. Labs anymore. Must be a cool place to work.”

  Caitlin shrugged and gave a polite smile.

  “You work for Dr. Ronald Savic, don’t you?” Iris said.

  “Yeah. I did. I was an intern for a few semesters.”

  “Did he ever mention a man named Hartley Rathaway to you?”

  “No…” Marshall thought for a second. “Well, yeah. He worked with Dr. Rathaway at S.T.A.R. Labs.” He pointed at Caitlin as if for confirmation. “That was years ago before Dr. Savic came to CCU, but he never really talked about him. They were in different fields.”

  Iris exhaled deeply. She was near the end of her list of names. Marshall Chen was a former lab assistant to a former colleague of Hartley Rathaway. That was about as tangential as it got.

  After this, she might as well put up flyers with Rathaway’s picture, and the headline HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?

  “Did you talk to Dr. Savic?” Marshall asked.

  “Not yet. He’s been in Markovia since June, so I don’t think he can help me. But I’ll call him.”

  “He’s not in Markovia,” Marshall replied. “He didn’t go.”

  “What? The Physics Department told me he went. They gave me a number where I could reach him.”

  “Really?” Marshall stared at her, his mouth open in annoyance. “Dammit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, I was set to housesit for him while he was out of the country, but then at the last minute I got a call saying he didn’t need me, that he wasn’t going.”

  “Dr. Savic called you?”

  “No, it was somebody else. One of his lab guys probably. Man, I really wanted to do it, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you seen his house?” Marshall grinned. “It’s huge. I mean huge. Out by the lake. Beautiful place. It would’ve been great. Since I graduated, I haven’t been able to find a job, so I just stayed here.” The guy in his underwear crossed the living room behind them, clanking through empty beer cans. “If he’s in Markovia, I wonder who he got to housesit for him. Dammit.”

  Iris grabbed Caitlin by the arm. “That’s where Rathaway is.” But Caitlin was already on her phone calling Barry. Quickly extracting the address from Marshall, the two women ran for the car. Before Iris could start it, however, he came rushing toward them.

  “Wait! Wait!” He knocked on Caitlin’s window. When she rolled it down, he handed her a flash drive.

  “What’s this?” Caitlin asked.

  “It’s my CV. My resume. If you guys at S.T.A.R. Labs are hiring, I’d appreciate the opportunity to help you.”

  “You have already.” Caitlin put the flash drive in her pocket as they sped away.

  37

 
; A waning moon lifted into the night sky. Folk nestled safe in their homes, the day long done. Doors were locked and the streets were empty. Houses that had glowed warm were now dark.

  The Flash appeared on a hill two hundred yards from the palatial house overlooking the lake. He was the first one to arrive. Or so he thought. In the darkness crouched a figure. The Flash tensed until he saw the hood and the bow.

  “How did you get here ahead of me?” the Flash asked.

  “No sign of movement in the house.”

  The Flash spun around. “Is everyone else here?”

  Green Arrow shook his head. “They’re five minutes behind me.”

  “But how did you—?”

  Arrow lifted a hand to his ear. “Do we have ID on our targets?”

  Felicity’s voice crackled. “Satellite imagery shows three heat signatures. Two on the bottom level, one on the third.”

  “I only see two stories,” the Flash remarked.

  “Blueprints indicate a wine cellar.”

  The speedster studied the dark windows. “I wish we knew who was who.”

  Arrow flicked off his comm. “You’re worried about Detective West running into Nimbus.”

  The Flash flicked his off, as well. “Habit, I guess.” He sighed, hating to be so transparent.

  “He’ll have John with him, and both men are experienced in clearing a house. Focus on your job. Trust everyone else to do theirs.”

  “I know,” the Flash grunted in frustration. “I just wish—”

  “No,” Green Arrow said, cutting him off. “Detective West is qualified to be here. You need to keep your head. We can’t afford to lose you to a blur.”

  “You won’t. This is our shot to end this siege.” The determination in his own voice bolstered him, pushing aside his anxiety.

  “Good.” Green Arrow switched on his comm again, and the Flash followed suit.

  “—said, is everything all right?” Caitlin sounded alarmed.

  “All good,” the Flash told her. “Just a last-minute pep talk.”

  “Well, don’t turn the set off inside the house. Those earwigs are meant to protect you from Pied Piper’s sound waves.”

  “Gotcha.” The Flash shifted back and forth on his feet, eager to start.