Like A Comet: The Indestructibles Book 4

by Matthew Phillion

  Doc Silence reached out and grabbed Titus's wrist. The werewolf's grip loosened on the slab of wall.

  "Come on, my brave friend," he said. "Let's get you home."

  Doc stretched out his arms, gestured with both hands and a bluish bubble formed around Titus. Air, clean oxygenated air, and a force field to protect him. Doc's heart skipped a beat. It's said that magic is all transference, that you cannot make something from nothing. But great magicians can create something from nothing, if they sacrifice a little of themselves in return. It cost Doc a piece of himself to provide air in that vacuum of space, but this was the very least he could do for his friend.

  Inside the bubble, Titus reverted back to human form, as if his unconscious mind realized that he was now safe, that the beast could rest while the man recovered.

  "I've got him," Doc said softly into his earpiece.

  "Is he…?" Jane said, even more softly.

  "Alive," he said. "I'm bringing him home. You and Billy find the others."

  "Doc," Kate's voice said from somewhere in the void.

  "Kate, it's going—"

  "You don't have to say anything more," Kate said.

  He heard something in her tone, an emotion she rarely showed. "I can always read through what you're saying," she said.

  Doc smiled and flew towards Earth.

  "And what are you reading now?" he asked.

  "That you're not afraid," Kate said. "And it's all I need to know."

  Chapter 78:

  You wouldn't believe me if I told you

  Entropy Emily sat inside a giant robot's head in the emptiness of space, convinced she got Henry Winter killed.

  This is my fault, she thought. Sure, he built the suit, and sure, he showed it to her—which is tantamount to telling her to use it—but in the end, she was the one flying it, the one who wasn't strong enough to defeat that enemy ship without having to sacrifice the suit.

  Henry's dead and it's my fault, Emily thought.

  "Where are you?" Jane said over the radio. She'd been quiet through most of the fight, Emily realized. I'm a terrible person for not remembering that until now. But why would I worry about Jane? She's always okay. She's not some old crazy guy I just sent hurtling toward the sun. Jane's made out of sunlight. She'll be fine.

  "Em?" Jane said again.

  "Hush, I'm feeling sorry for myself," Emily said. "I need concentration. I'm not good at feeling like this and it's really weird."

  "Billy's out there looking for you. I have his radio. You might have to do something to help him find you."

  "I'm in no rush," Emily said, her stomach in knots. Just leave me out here. Y'know, like I did with Henry.

  "What's wrong with you?" Jane said.

  "Nothing. I got Henry Winter killed. I'm just a horrible, horrible person."

  Bedlam, of all people, chirped in next. Clearly their earpieces were partially dependent on the Tower to boost their signal, because her voice sounded even more fuzzy and robotic than usual.

  But it was clear she definitely said "Henry's fine."

  "Go again, Bedlam?" Jane said.

  "Henry… fine… hang on," Bedlam said, her voice breaking up.

  A moment passed, and Emily decided that Bedlam was having another conversation completely separate to this one and returned to wallowing. Then Winter spoke.

  "Hey, Em," he said, sounding delirious, or possibly drunk.

  "You're not dead!" Emily yelled.

  "Nope. I hitched a ride with an old friend."

  "You're losing it," she said. "Where are you."

  "I'm… You wouldn't believe me if I told you, kiddo," Winter said.

  Emily pounded her fists on the console.

  "I'm so happy you're not dead that I'm not even going to give you a hard time about how belittling calling me kiddo is," Emily said.

  "You need a lift?" Henry said.

  Emily, about to answer, heard a tap on the glass of her robot's windshield. Billy glowed bright and smiled like a lunatic. He put both hands against the surface and made a face.

  "No, I think I'm good, Henry," Emily said. "I'm glad I didn't get you killed."

  "Me too," Winter said.

  Billy made a telephone with his hands and put it up to his ear, Emily shrugged at him. Billy held up his index finger and, using his light powers, traced a heart in the darkness.

  Emily gave him the finger.

  "Push me home!" she said.

  He mouthed the word: "What?"

  "Push me! Take me home, Jeeves!"

  Billy pointed at himself. "Me?"

  Emily threw her helmet at the window.

  He made calming motions with his hands, then darted out of sight. The robot head began to move, and soon, the Earth was dead ahead.

  "It really does help when someone gets out and pushes," Emily said. "Princess Leia was right."

  Chapter 79:

  Day and night

  Kate curled up in the escape pod, watching stars drift by.

  How do we come back from this? Kate thought. How do we return to normal? Do I just begin the normal routine of stopping robberies and patrolling the City? We've seen the future, and what's out in space waiting for us. How do we ever look at the world in the same way again?

  The pod spun slowly, and every few minutes Kate would get a good look at Earth. I could fit it in my pocket, she thought. I never wanted to feel this big. I belong down in the alleys and gutters.

  Alleys. She wondered about the Hawk, still. Missing for weeks, she thought he might resurface during this last round of attacks, but he hadn't. She felt helpless up here, looking down on the entire planet and didn't like it.

  As the pod continued to spin, the sight of Jane hovering outside startled Kate. The solar-powered girl put a hand on the escape pod, stopping its circular movement, then placed her palm on the glass. Kate unfurled her legs and positioned her hand up against Jane's. She felt warmth through the glass.

  "Hello in there," Jane said.

  Kate nodded back at her. Neal, situated in his new little robot body, spun one of his sensors around to look out the window as well.

  "Hello, Designation: Solar," he said.

  Jane smiled. "You put Neal in a can," she said.

  "Did we lose anyone?" Kate said.

  Jane glanced out at the stars. The sun's energy danced across her skin. Kate sometimes found herself mystified at how different they were. Day and night, sun and moon, hope and cynicism, joy and anger. Yet once in a while, if she wasn't paying attention, wasn't forcing herself to think the worst about everything and everybody, Kate would realize she couldn't possibly do this without Jane. Someone had to be optimistic. This type of work drove you mad without hope.

  And someone has to be me, Kate thought. Because hope can kill you just as quickly. But there were times, Kate thought, when she could use a little bit more hope.

  She gazed past Jane, into the stars, to the cosmos and beyond, into the blackness they knew so much more clearly now than ever before was not nearly as empty as humanity had always believed. Kate wondered what else was in store for them. What other terrors might come their way. We're on the map now, Kate thought. Whatever else is out there, they know we're here. But they've seen us fight, too, haven't they. And we're waiting. Next time, we'll be better.

  Jane seemed to sense Kate's mood from outside the pod. She started looking for a place to grab hold of the escape pod, a section where she could get a good grip. She tapped on the glass gently.

  "Doc has Titus," Jane said. "He's alive. In bad shape but… Can I bring you home, Kate?"

  Kate pressed her head against the glass. Tired, her body ached as if she could feel each individual bruise and cut and scrape from the past few days.

  "Let's go home," Kate said.

  Chapter 80:

  The story

  Jon Broadstreet wandered the streets of the City, taking it all in. He snapped photos with his cheap digital camera and searched for the story.

  This is all the sto
ry, he thought. Invaders from another planet, a group of super-powered heroes saving the day. Bizarre, bug-like spacecrafts zipping over the city while beings covered in light fought them in air-to-air combat.

  The aliens on the ground tearing the City apart at the street level, the heroes who stepped up to fight them, Earth's own monsters standing toe to toe with monsters from other worlds. Creatures in the sky, barely visible, winged and horrible things that seemed to disappear as the fight subsided, yet had appeared, incongruously, to be fighting on our side. The girl in the storm, made of clouds and lightning, striking down a huge alien battleship, that came to rest at a location government men were now blocking off to gawkers.

  Those government men, using weapons that shouldn't exist. There will be stories about that, too. Was that an example of our tax money at work? Or something more sinister?

  The story. There were casualties. Remarkably few, all things considered. Broadstreet knew Jane and her friends would do anything to keep the threat as far away from ordinary people as possible. Buildings were destroyed downtown, though. Streets torn up. People were missing. Some would turn up dead. There would be memorial stories, in the press, on TV. Talking heads will call into question every decision made, by the Indestructibles, by the Department, by the government, by each other.

  Always a story. Everyone needs to find their own angle.

  Maybe I'm not cut out for this any longer, Broadstreet thought. I'm a terrible newsman. I'm not ruthless enough.

  He found himself near a Department staging area, men in dark suits sitting around, tending to the wounded, taking stock of what happened. In the middle of the pack sat Sam Barren, the agent who had been liaison to the Indestructibles as Broadstreet had been their pet reporter. They'd crossed paths a few times. They knew each other. Sam raised a hand at Broadstreet, who waved back. Then, the old agent beckoned him over.

  "You I'll talk to," Barren said.

  The war appeared to have aged him Broadstreet realized.

  "Reporters hounding you?"

  "Everyone is," Sam said. "My own men, my own government, you people…"

  "I get lumped in with 'you people' now?" Broadstreet said.

  "You people," Sam said again, adjusting the battered fedora on his head. "I'll give you three questions because I like you. Go."

  "Are they alive?" Broadstreet said without hesitation.

  "Who?" Sam said.

  "Our mutual friends in the flying headquarters," Broadstreet said. "Did they make it?"

  Sam smiled and nodded.

  "No casualties," Sam said "Barely. I'll give you more on that later, but I can say they all came home."

  "Okay," Broadstreet said. "Speaking of home, where'd the Tower go? It's not above the City anymore."

  "That," Sam said, "I really can't tell you. I think they used it in the fight. Where it ended up afterward I don't know."

  "So when my readers ask if it's gone…"

  Sam turned his eyes up to the sky, his eyes on the verge of watering. Broadstreet was well-versed on the history of the City's heroes. The Tower used to be part of a building, before it became a floating base, but it had been here in the City for a lifetime. If it was gone, it would mark the end of an era, one that Barren had been a part of for decades.

  "I don't know what to tell you on that, son," Sam said. "Sorry."

  "Last question, then," Broadstreet said.

  "Fire away."

  "Did we win?"

  Sam took his hat off and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

  "We're still standing, right?" Sam said. "I'd call that a win."

  They shook hands. Broadstreet walked away, leaving Sam to bark orders at his agents. He had a million more questions for the government man, but trying to parse them out overwhelmed him. Who were these aliens? Will they come back? Why were they here? Did we know they were coming?

  There will be stories about this for years, Broadstreet thought. Maybe we'll never have all the answers, but we'll ask all the questions.

  He cut through the park in the center of the City. People had taken refuge in there of all places. Groups of residents fled the buildings that the aliens seemed to be targeting to hide among the green trees. Broadstreet took pictures, collated quotes from survivors, and chatted with a five-year-old who wanted to be a werewolf when he grew up because of something he witnessed.

  Along the way, he crossed paths with an elegant woman shielding her eyes behind huge sunglasses, despite the gray skies and light rain that still fell. He couldn't help but stare at her, and when she saw him, she smiled back.

  "Quite the show today, wasn't it?" the woman said. She had an accent. From where, Broadstreet couldn't tell. Perhaps South Africa. Maybe somewhere else.

  "Yeah. Were you here the whole time?"

  "I was," the woman said. "Doing my part."

  "How so?"

  She shot him a movie star smile and raised an eyebrow.

  "Ugliness will follow, won't it?" the woman said.

  "How do you mean?"

  "This world. It's full of wonders, and yet it always loves to lay blame. If there was one thing I would change it would be for everyone to realize how lucky we are to be here," she said. "I've been to quite a few versions of hell. It's a shame no one appreciates this place enough."

  Broadstreet took a slight step back and studied the woman's face. The corners of her eyes crinkled.

  "It was nice to meet you, Jon Broadstreet," the woman said. "Will you quote me in your story?"

  Broadstreet shrugged, not sure why she made him uncomfortable.

  "Maybe," he said. "Can I get your name, take a quick photo?"

  She acquiesced, letting him snap a head and shoulders shot.

  "I'm Natasha," she told him. "Natasha Grey."

  They shook hands, and Broadstreet watched her walk away. Only after she was out of sight did he realized she knew his name without his ever telling her.

  He turned his camera back on and previewed her photo on its small monitor. When he saw the image, he nearly dropped the camera. Behind those huge sunglasses, her eyes burned bright, like balls of flame.

  There is always a story, he thought.

  Chapter 81:

  We're all still here

  Kate sat beside Titus's hospital bed in a secure wing of the Labyrinth, watching him sleep.

  Titus hadn't awakened since Doc got him back to Earth. There was little any of them could do for the werewolf. Sam Barren, with his bizarre healing powers, had offered to help despite how much using them hurt him, but on his first attempt, Sam said there was something about Titus's werewolf biology that made his own gifts ineffective. Sam was still a stranger in his own body when it came to the abilities Prevention's people had given him barely a few months before. It didn't surprise Kate that he couldn't explain why they weren't effective.

  They tried to locate Titus's tribe to ask for help, but that proved difficult. Finnigan turned down Titus's offer not long ago for a satellite phone, saying that they'd survived all this time without a cell phone and he didn't intend to start now. At the time Kate thought it was charmingly Luddite of him to say so. Now she wanted to throttle the red-headed werewolf for being selfish in his refusal of technology.

  Doc mentioned he could send a message to Leto, the leader and shaman of the pack of wolves, one magician to another, but they hadn't heard back. Perhaps they were in trouble, Kate wondered. They wouldn't ignore a call for assistance. The pack was a strange group, but they'd die for each other in an instant. There was no way they'd dismiss an opportunity to help Titus if he needed them.

  Titus's wounds were improving, though. Kate could almost watch it happen, as his werewolf healing abilities knitted cuts and lacerations back together and transformed raw burns into pink new skin. The explosion singed the hair on his head, and a silvery gleam of stubble had begun to grow back. More gray than before, Kate noted. Titus had been turning prematurely gray since they met, it seemed the more he employed his powers, the more the color shif
t happened. He wasn't getting old, Kate knew. This shift somehow indicated that he was becoming more connected to his abilities.

  Still, he hadn't opened his eyes. So she sat beside him, sleeping in the chair next to his bed, only leaving his side for a few minutes at a time. The others stopped by, to bring her food or coffee, and to check on his status. Emily spoke to him for a while, about what happened and what was to come next. Kate felt a flash of annoyance as the blue-haired girl chattered away, but she soon found it comforting as well, the normalcy of it, the endless patter of Emily-speak. If Billy was Emily's best friend, Titus was her big brother. They were all worried.

  A knock came at the door. Jane stood in the frame. She wore the uniform of her future self, a bodysuit of white and black and gleaming gold, the girlish costume she'd used before with its cape and skirt cast aside, at least for now. These days, with the Tower gone, all they had to work with was what they'd left back on Earth.

  "How is he?" Jane asked.

  "No change," Kate said in a rough, quiet voice.

  Jane walked in, touched the back of Titus's hand, and examined the room.

  "I hate that we had to bring him here," she said.

  "The Labyrinth's infirmary is built to treat superhumans," Kate said. "It was the best option. It's my fault the Tower's infirmary was destroyed anyway. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

  Jane shook her head. She understood where Kate was coming from. They both had their guilt.

  "We're going to meet with the… with Billy's… with the good aliens," Jane said. "I'm not sure what to call them. Humans made up the name Luminae, didn't they? It seems offensive to call them that."