by Charlie Wood
“You,” Orion said. “Me. Now.”
Vincent laughed, ripping the arrow from his chest and shaking his head.
“Don’t make me do this, Orion,” he said, picking up his axe. Its blade was illuminated with black fire. “Don’t make me do this again.”
With their boots pounding the smoking pavement of Middle Street, Orion and Vincent ran at each other. When they clashed, Vincent roared, and they each used their weapons to deflect the other’s blows. They had known each other for years, as both teammates and enemies, and now neither one of them could gain an upper hand.
Tobin watched the fight from the street, barely conscious. Pressing his hands to the ground, he tried to stand, but was overcome with exhaustion. The world was zooming in-and-out of focus, as if he was trying to wake from a dream. Rolling over, he looked back to the battle.
Vincent found an opening, landing a blow with his axe. Orion rushed to get back to his feet, but a group of Gores jumped onto him and pinned him to the ground. As he struggled to get free, they clawed at him, tearing at his clothes and skin.
Vincent walked to the old man, ready to finally end the fight. But then he stopped. He raised an ear. Tobin could hear it, too—a high-pitch whistling, rising in intensity. Like a teakettle. A very large teakettle.
BA-BOOM! With a crack of thunder and a flash of silver light, the Sky-Blade zoomed in from a portal and appeared in the sky of the planet Earth! Hurtling toward the ground, it crashed into Middle Street, ripping up the dirt and cement and stones as it tore a large gouge through the town.
When the ship finally came to a stop, its side door slid open. Tobin could see somebody in the doorway, sitting on a motorcycle. His eyes and face were hidden behind a helmet, but his blue-furred paws were sticking out from his jacket, revving the handlebars.
With a roar of the bike’s engine, Keplar shot out of the ship, careening through the street and firing his plasma cannon. The green blasts exploded against Vincent and the monster fell back, staggered. Keplar drove toward him, growling and baring his teeth.
When he neared Vincent, the dog leapt off of the motorcycle and tumbled along the pavement. He took off his helmet, whipped it away, and charged, firing his plasma cannon and laughing wildly.
“Here we go, Vince! Let’s do this, bro! I’ve been waiting for this for years! Let’s go! Let’s do this!”
Vincent shook off the plasma blasts and laughed, stomping toward the husky.
“Amateur hour, Keplar. Amateur hour.”
Keplar cocked his fist and nailed the monster across the chin with a right hook, but Vincent countered it with a punch of his own, sending Keplar stumbling. The husky recovered, lunging at Vincent, and they locked arms. They growled and slashed and clawed at each other—it was horrific, merciless, and primal. Animal vs. animal.
Tobin heard another zoom! of an engine, and spun toward the Sky-Blade—this time it was Scatterbolt, who was speeding out of the ship in an egg-shaped, red-striped, gleaming white vehicle with words along its side: ROBO-POD. Steering the vehicle wildly toward Orion, the robot pushed a button on its dashboard, causing two front-mounted blasters to appear in the place of its headlights. When Scatterbolt pulled a pair of triggers, the blasters launched globs of black oil, which flew across the town and splattered against the Gores surrounding Orion.
The attacking Gores were bowled over, knocking into one another, and eventually they stuck to the ground, ensnared in the tarry gunk. Finally free, Orion was able to get to his feet and rejoin the fight against Vincent.
Tobin rolled onto his back. Staring at the sky, he realized he could no longer focus on any one spot; the Dark Nebula’s ceiling was coming and going, and as he listened to the sounds of the battle, they soon faded away, and then he could hear nothing.
Tobin brought his hand to his pocket. He felt something there—his dad’s pocket watch. He brought the watch to his face and opened it. The gears inside were moving, and its rods were spinning and its levers were rising up and down. The outside of the watch began to glow bright blue.
Tobin closed his eyes. The blue light from the watch enveloped his body.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TOBIN WAS LYING IN A bed. He was feverish and weak, and because the room was so dark, he could only make out a few shapes: a door, a dresser, a window on the wall. He wasn’t sure how long he had been there, but it felt like a long time.
Tobin realized someone was sitting next to him. It was a woman, about thirty years old, with blonde hair and pale skin, but that was all he could see in the dark. He listened as she hummed a song and the rain fell against the window.
The woman reached over and placed a wet cloth on Tobin’s forehead. He tried to ask her a question, but all that came out was a pained groan.
“Shh,” she said. “It’s all right. You’re okay now. Shh.”
Tobin pushed the covers off of him, but the woman held her hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, honey, lay down. You’re gonna be okay.”
Tobin could see that the woman was smiling.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“Hrm,” he said. It was hard for him to talk. “Where am…?”
She rubbed her thumb along his cheek. “It’s okay.”
The woman removed the cloth from Tobin’s forehead. When she wrung it into a bowl, the water that came from it was red with blood. Reaching for a new cloth, she dipped it into a fresh bowl, then placed it on Tobin’s forehead.
“I’ll take care of you,” she said.
The door at the front of the room opened. Light seeped in, and Tobin could see a man standing in the doorway. A TV was on in the next room. It was playing an old cartoon.
The man closed the door and the room went dark again. He stood at the end of the bed, and Tobin could see that he had dark hair and a five o’clock shadow, but that was all. He watched Tobin with his hands on his hips.
“He’s awake?” the man asked.
“Yes,” the woman said.
“How is he?”
“He’s all right. Getting better.”
“Has he been talking?”
“A little. He’s still half-asleep, and he has a fever. He doesn’t know where he is.”
“Good.”
The man stepped back into the hall, then returned carrying a heavy footlocker. The woman watched as he unlocked its many locks.
“Is it time already?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The woman took Tobin’s hand and brought it to her face. He could feel her tears running down his fingers.
The man opened the locker and took a blue duffle bag from it. Bringing the bag to the bed, he sat down next to Tobin. The woman moved to the other end of the room. Tobin didn’t know why she was crying.
“Hey, Tobin,” the man said. “Can you hear me? How’re you feeling?”
Tobin let out a quick grunt. He felt like he was falling asleep.
“I’m gonna help you,” the man said. “But I need you to stay awake for a little while. Can you do that for me?”
Tobin mumbled. He was having a hard time keeping his thoughts from slipping away.
“Only a couple more seconds, okay?” the man said. “Then you’re gonna go back and help Orion. You told me Orion needs your help. Remember?”
Tobin thought back to his friends on Middle Street. “I have to…I have to…” He looked at the man. “Where am I?”
“I can’t tell you that,” the man said. “But I can give you something to take back with you. It’s very important. Okay?”
The man placed the duffle bag on Tobin’s chest. The boy tried to get a good look at the room, and the two people in it.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” the man replied, “but I can’t tell you that, either. Just make sure you remember that I gave you this, okay?”
“Sure,” Tobin said, frustrated.
The man laughed. “Okay. Now you can go
back to sleep.”
The man stepped away from the bed. Tobin could feel electricity running over his arms and legs. But he didn’t want to leave yet. He reached out and grabbed the man’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “You have to go now. I have to go.”
But Tobin wanted to stay. He watched as the man walked to the woman and pulled her close.
Blue electricity sparked around Tobin. He and the man looked at one another.
Then, with a blue flash, Tobin was gone, and the bed was empty.
The man held the woman in the dark room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TOBIN SAW A BLUE FLASH and realized he was floating down to Middle Street. When his feet hit the ground, he looked over the area. The street was quiet and nobody was near, but nearly everything had been destroyed—buildings were smoldering, trees were burning, and cloaks of Gores were littered across town. The ground itself was pockmarked with huge, gaping crevasses.
Tobin realized how much better he felt; his body was still achy, but his wounds were mostly healed, and his costume was repaired. Reaching back, he found the blue duffle bag over his shoulder. “Where the heck did I get this thing, anyway?” he wondered.
But before Tobin could open the bag, he saw a body down the street. It was slumped against the ground, and its cowboy hat was covering its face.
“Keplar!”
Tobin ran to his friend, but found the dog unconscious. A laser blaster was still in each of his paws, and the barrels of the guns were smoking.
“Keplar!” Tobin yelled, kneeling near him and shaking him by his jacket. “Keplar, can you hear me? C’mon! C’mon!”
But the dog didn’t move. Instead, Tobin was surprised to hear a different voice calling for him.
“Tobin...Tobin...Here.”
Tobin spun to the other side of the street; Scatterbolt was sitting against a building, with his metallic arms limp against his body. His white eyes were flickering.
“Oh, no…” Tobin ran to him. “Scatterbolt, are you okay? What happened?”
The robot’s voice was one monotonous stream—devoid of any personality. His mouth barely moved as he relayed the information.
“tobin lloyd seventeen years old father scott lloyd a-kay-a scott webber a-kay-a strike mother catherine lloyd maiden name richards born long island new york...”
Tobin knelt down, looking into the robot’s eyes, trying to get any recognition. “Hey, Scatterbolt, hey, I’m here now.” The boy could hear the gears inside the robot whirring and cranking, like a train running out of steam. He lifted him and placed him in the Robo-Pod, which was sitting nearby. “What happened, Scatterbolt? Where is everybody?”
“There were too many of them. We could not win. It was mathematically impossible. I am sorry.”
The robot’s eyes dimmed and his head slumped over.
“No, Scatterbolt, it’s okay, you did your best, buddy. I’m here now. Where’d Orion go? Where’s Vincent?”
The robot raised a shaking arm. With his hinges groaning, he pointed across the street.
“He. Smash through window. He. Chase Orion. Vincent.”
“Who? Who chased Orion? Vincent?”
“Yes. Hurry. Through window.”
Scatterbolt then shut down; his eyes turned off, and his body froze in place. His hand was still pointing across the street, so Tobin looked in its direction.
The boy couldn’t believe it. He walked to the broken window that Scatterbolt spoke about, then looked up at the building’s main entrance.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he groaned.
The building was Bridgton High School.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
INSIDE BRIDGTON HIGH, A GROUP of students were fleeing as a black-and-green monster stomped through the halls.
“Rarrrrrgghh!” Vincent yelled. “Where are you, Orion? Come out here and face me! Now!”
The students dashed into a classroom, just as Vincent ripped a locker from the wall and tossed it down the hallway.
“Where are you?” the monster screamed. “Where are you?”
Joel Manuel, the school security guard—a fortyish, chubby man—stepped in front of Vincent, summoning up every last bit of his courage. As he pointed his stun gun at the monster, his hands were shaking.
“Stop,” Joel said. “Stop or I will stun you.”
Vincent looked down, growled, and grabbed Joel by his neck, lifting him into the air.
“You better come out here, Orion! Because if you don’t, I’ll get impatient, and let’s remember what happens when I get impatient: I start ripping people’s limbs off.”
The monster gripped Joel’s arm, squeezing it between his giant, green fingers. The security guard looked down at his shoulder, gulping.
But then a red arrow whistled down the hallway in a perfectly straight line and struck Vincent in the chest. The monster dropped Joel, grunted, and stomped off to where the weapon had been fired.
Stunned, Joel jumped up and ran in the opposite direction of the monster. When he reached the school’s lobby, he passed by a seventeen-year-old boy in a superhero costume.
“Hey, Joel,” Strike said. “How’s it going?”
Joel ran out the front door.
“Oh, cool,” Strike said. “See ya later, Joel.”
Strike continued down the hall, but then saw a classroom door open. He darted behind a locker and hid there.
Chad Fernandes peeked out of the door. “Is everybody gone? Is it safe, do you think?”
Jennifer Robins looked out of the room. “I don’t know. What should we do, Chad? What is going on?”
Strike approached them. “Um, hello.”
Jennifer and Chad turned around. They locked eyes with Strike as he looked back at them over his mask.
Then Jennifer and Chad walked back into the classroom and closed the door.
“Oh, great,” Strike said, looking down the hallway. He knocked on the door and tried again, this time using a deep voice. “Hey, kids. I’m, uh, a good guy. I’m gonna…save…you.” He shook his head. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
Chad yelled from inside the room. “Who are you? How do we know it’s safe?”
“Just, uh, open the door and trust me, son,” Strike said, in his very-much-needs-practice superhero voice. “Everything will be okay, I promise.”
Chad thought about it, then answered with a swift, “No.”
“Just open the door, Chad!” Strike whispered angrily. “C’mon!”
Jennifer and Chad opened the door. Strike motioned for them to come into the hall.
“C’mon, close the door! C’mon, c’mon!”
The three friends stood in the hall and looked at each other.
“You need to get the other people out of the school and get out of here as fast as you can,” Strike said.
“No, we can’t,” Chad replied. “It’s not safe.” He looked at the hero. “Who…who are you?”
“Um…”
Strike thought a moment.
“It’s me. It’s Tobin.”
A silence.
“Yeah right,” Chad laughed.
“No way,” Jennifer added.
Strike threw his arms out, frustrated. He made sure no one was near, then pulled down his mask and pointed to his face.
“Look, it’s me. Hi. I dress weird now. How are you?” He put his mask back on. “Okay? Now get the hell out of here, please.”
“What…the…hell?” Chad asked.
“What are you doing?!” Jennifer demanded, scanning Tobin’s outfit. “What is all this, Tobin? Where have you been?”
“And why the hell are you talking like that?” Chad wondered.
“So many questions, so little time.” Strike pushed his friends toward the classroom. “Look, all I can tell you is that you need to get out of here and get far away. Now.”
“But we can’t,” Jennifer said. “There’s all kinds of monsters out there, Tobin—these things, they’re taking people away, and—and—
we have to hide in here.”
“I know, but they’re gone now, Jen, trust me. The most dangerous place to be right now is here. Are you the only ones left in the school?”
“I think so,” Chad said. “Everybody else got out, but we were stuck. What’s going on, Tobin, honestly? Where have you been?”
“I can’t tell you right now, I already told you way too much. Just double-check the rest of the school and get out of here, okay?”
Chad opened the classroom door. “Dude, this is weird. And it just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”
“Tell me about it,” Strike said. “One of my friends is a talking dog now. He’s cool, you would like him.”
Jennifer looked into the room. “Uh, guys, we’re gonna leave now. C’mon, it’s safe. Follow me.”
The students stepped into the hallway, all of them very frightened. Strike turned to Jennifer, with a hand on each of her arms.
“Just stay with the other kids now, okay, Jen? And don’t be afraid. I’m gonna take care of all this.”
“You are?”
“Um…I give it about a thirty-five percent chance. But go, everything is gonna be okay. Go ahead.”
Strike watched as his friends led the other students down the hall.
“So,” he said to himself. “This is my life now.”
Past the science labs and past the gymnasium, Vincent ripped a metal door off its hinges and entered the courtyard in the middle of Bridgton High. Immediately, he saw the target of his search.
Orion was leaning against a tree, hunched over and breathing through his nose. One of his arms was clutching his ribs, while the other was dangling uselessly at his hip. He coughed and spat blood, which landed in a clump on his chest. His bow was on the ground next to him, in splinters, and his quiver was empty. He had stayed on this world, and fought an impossible fight, for too long.
Vincent walked to Orion, lifting him by his coat and pressing him against the tree.
“I saw more guts from you today,” the monster said, “than I saw in eight damn years of being your teammate. Where was this kind of fight when we were kids, O? Why didn’t you show me this then?”
Orion looked up, but his eyes were nearly closed, and his forehead was furrowed. His head wobbled weakly on his shoulders.