The Ables

by Jeremy Scott

  James was part of a unit with Bentley, Freddie, and Donnie, who were across town at the car dealership checking out another crime-in-progress spotted on Bentley’s cameras. Since Henry couldn’t be around for both of us, Bentley had given James my old Personal Navigator—with some custom Bentley modifications, of course. He’d downloaded the latest 3D satellite imagery from an online maps service, which meant the Navigator was able to give James detailed audio information about his surroundings even when he was outside of the school. It wasn’t the same thing as getting pictures from Henry, but it was a step up from total blindness.

  “You are standing twenty feet outside the front door of the Freepoint Grocery,” I heard faintly from his earpiece after we arrived.

  After he’d deposited us on the front side of the grocery store, we’d come around the corner to the side parking lot and stopped dead in our tracks. The villain was just a few rows in front of us. He already had one fireball loaded up in his right hand; his left arm was wrapped around the neck of an unhappy female hostage. And he was just standing there like he was waiting for us. Instantly, he started shooting baseballsized fire bombs at us, and we were forced to take cover behind the dumpster nearby.

  The bombardment had been going on for almost three full minutes at this point and showed no signs of stopping. This guy was clearly trying to keep us pinned down until he could either make a getaway or at least stall long enough for a buddy to come help him. He’d already taken one hostage—we assumed she’d been a shopper from the supermarket—and we didn’t currently know her status because we were too busy cowering behind a dumpster.

  I began to realize that being a true hero was all about reacting in the moment and wondered if the real adult heroes ever felt the panic that was currently gripping me. The typical superhero/criminal scenarios were so unpredictable and fluid that even in a simulation, planning didn’t seem to do any good.

  I took off my new pair of glasses Bentley had given me and slid over to the corner of the dumpster. I reached out my hand peeking the camera around the edge so I could get a look at what we were up against without taking a fireball to the face.

  The man was now standing in the middle of the street, about fifty yards away. We were pinned up against the grocery store’s exterior brick wall, with a couple rows of cars between us and the bad guy. With his left arm, he held his hostage tight to his body while his right hand dished out punishing fireballs lofted in our direction. So far, there weren’t any other student-led SuperSim teams in the vicinity, which meant we could have the points all to ourselves if we could apprehend him somehow.

  Of course, with the kind of fireworks show he was putting on, there was enough light and sound to ensure we wouldn’t be alone for long. That meant we needed to act fast.

  And then, a thought hit me. He’s not going to hurt us! What are we afraid of? I pulled the camera glasses back, returned them to my face, and addressed my teammates.

  “Okay, check this out,” I said to Henry and Chad. “This man, whoever he is, is not going to hurt us.”

  They both looked at me blankly, probably wondering when I’d become fireproof.

  “I mean … he’s an adult. Probably a protector or a teacher.” They still didn’t get it. “It’s the SuperSim! No adult, however much they’re pretending to be a super-villain, is going to hurt a kid during this thing. It’s an exercise! He’s not trying to hit us with the fireballs; he’s probably just positioning them carefully to keep us pinned down! What are we afraid of here, guys? We’re superheroes!”

  “Just because he won’t want to hurt us doesn’t mean he can’t accidentally do it … or that he’s not still trying to stop us,” Chad reminded me.

  “Sure, sure,” I said, only to continue my own argument, “but he’s trying to stop us in non-lethal ways. This isn’t a real super-villain. He doesn’t want to put any of us into the hospital or anything like that.”

  “So then, what should we do, Mr. Not Afraid Anymore?” Henry asked dryly. “What’s your big plan to get us out from behind this thing, stop his fireballs, save the hostage, and arrest the adult villain?” When he put it that way, maybe I did sound a little crazy.

  “I don’t know. But whenever we’re real heroes, we’re going to have to learn to think on our feet. We won’t always have time to make a plan.” Another thought hit me. “Use your powers and see what he’s thinking.”

  Henry heard me but didn’t hear me. “What?”

  “Use your powers—read his mind and see what his plan is or whatever.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, just now remembering he could read minds.

  A few seconds passed and a few more fireballs smashed into the wall above us.

  “Okay,” Henry said, exhaling. “He’s thinking … and I quote … ‘Oh God, don’t let me hurt these kids; oh God, don’t let me hurt these kids.’”

  There was something chilling about that, but I let it slide because it also proved my point. “See, he’s not only not trying to hurt us, he’s actively attempting to keep us safe!”

  “He actually sounded more scared than we are,” Henry allowed.

  I nodded. “Then let’s do something here, okay?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “But what?”

  I stretched the camera back around the dumpster again, relaying its image to Henry, who saw it on his wheelchair-mounted laptop and sent it to me.

  I looked for anything I could control with my powers. There were cars all over the place, but I knew I wasn’t ready for that yet. My telekinesis wasn’t focused enough to move something that large and heavy.

  There were trees all around the bad guy, but like most of the trees in Freepoint, they were ancient and giant—way too big for me to budge. I considered trying to move the branches but ultimately thought that any branch I was strong enough to move would probably be harmless if it fell on or near the villain. I couldn’t be known as the kid who tried to win the SuperSim through the use of projectile twigs. Besides, branches are quite flammable.

  There were a few loose shopping carts in the parking lot. But again, I wasn’t positive I could get something of that size up in the air, let alone force it to fly across the sky. Maybe I could, but until I was sure, I didn’t want to risk it.

  “Whatever you do, Phillip, you’d better do it soon, man,” said Henry alongside a chorus of fireball explosions on the other side of our shelter. “Sooner or later, he’s going to catch one of those cars on fire, and then we’re all screwed.”

  Ah, Henry, I thought, knowing he could hear me. You’ve always got the worst-case scenario in mind, don’t you?

  “Yes, I do,” he replied verbally. “Somebody has to.”

  “Henry, I don’t think we need to worry about the cars catching fire, okay? This man is a professional. I’m sure he has better control of his powers than that. And besides, if those cars started exploding, he’d be in just as much danger as we would.”

  I stopped cold. Had I really just stumbled onto my own solution?

  “How much do you think those fireballs weigh?” I asked Chad.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “They do a lot of damage, but they’re not very big.” He was right. They were the size of softballs.

  “Okay. Okay,” I said to myself, working through my plan. “Okay, guys, I think I got it.” And then I went into field-general mode.

  “Chad, I need a fire extinguisher.”

  He just looked at me blankly.

  “Use your power,” I explained, a little impatiently, “and duck back around into the grocery store and bring back the fire extinguisher. There should be one near the front desk, okay? Can you do that?”

  There was about a four-foot length of wall from where we were positioned to where the building’s front corner was. Chad would have to get past that four feet of exposed air without getting hit by a fireball in order to dash around the corner and into the store. He could turn invisible, but he wasn’t invincible, so he took a moment to glance at the wall while considering my p
roposition.

  “Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” he finally said, not sounding wholly confident.

  “Okay, listen for the next round of fireballs to crash, then go on my signal.”

  Chad nodded, then disappeared into thin air. We all waited a few seconds until another wave of ammo hit the front of the dumpster.

  “Go!” I yelled.

  It was a little anticlimactic for me. Since Chad was already invisible, I didn’t get to see him take off running. Heck, I wasn’t sure at first that he’d even gone. “Chad?” I asked, as another fireball smashed into the wall above us. There was no response.

  “I hope he makes it okay,” I said aloud.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Henry said skeptically. I’m sure he’d read my mind enough to have an idea of what I was planning.

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  We sat there waiting silently for what seemed like fifteen minutes, though I’m sure it was only a few. And suddenly, as though he’d never been gone, Chad appeared before us, beaming and holding a fire extinguisher under his one good arm.

  “One gently-used fire extinguisher,” he said politely, like a butler fulfilling his millionaire’s most recent extravagant request.

  “Awesome,” I said, unable to hide how impressed I was. I turned to Henry, smiling. “Didn’t I tell you he’d come in handy?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Henry reluctantly agreed, shaking his head.

  “Okay, now I’m going to go out there. I want you to go invisible again and dash around behind the store. Cut over into the neighbor’s back yard, and come in around behind this guy, okay? I’ll keep him busy long enough for you to get into position.”

  “Okay,” Chad nodded, understanding my words but still sounding uneasy.

  “Stay invisible. You’re everything in this thing. When you see the distraction I create, Chad … you’re going to have to get in there and grab that woman and get her to safety while he’s not paying attention.”

  “Oh God,” Chad said, feeling a bit more nervous now that he knew what he’d have to do.

  “You can do this, Chad. He’s not going to have that good a grip on her—remember: they’re just acting. This is all just pretend. Some part of them probably even wants us to save that woman and succeed, okay? I don’t care how you get her away from him. Tackle him, maybe. Heck, tackle her if you have to, but as soon as she is free of his grasp, you turn both you and her invisible again, and get the heck out of there. Got it?”

  “You make it sound easy,” Chad said. He’d lost some of the confidence that he’d had as a bully and as a person with two good arms.

  “Wait until you see what I have to do,” I responded.

  Chad thought of one more question. “What’s the distraction?”

  “Believe me, you’ll know it when you see it,” I responded, still not 100 percent sure I could actually do what I had planned.

  “What about me?” It was Henry.

  “You?” I asked, smiling. “Why, you get to do exactly what you want to do, good sir. Stay here behind this dumpster, and make sure you keep your eyes glued to that screen so I can see what I’m doing.”

  “Phillip, I commend you on having such a smart plan,” he said, smiling. “I will be happy to stay here in relative safety while the two of you risk your necks.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Chad said sarcastically.

  “Okay, boys. This is it. Wish me luck,” I said.

  “Good luck,” they both said.

  “Go, Chad. Go now!” He disappeared, and this time I heard his footsteps tear off around the corner of the building. And with that, I turned and once again reached my glasses around the edge of the dumpster.

  From that angle, I could see about six or seven cars that were mostly between our position and the position of the bad guy. There were many more off to the right, but they wouldn’t come in handy.

  Of the six cars, three were parked at the angle that I needed—one that allowed me a direct sight line to their gas tanks. I focused in on the first one, a giant pick-up truck. Concentrating the way my father had taught me, I reached out my hand and visualized the gas tank door popping open. I was still completely behind the dumpster, using Bentley’s camera as a way to “see” the vehicles well enough to use my powers.

  One by one, I opened all three gas tank doors and mentally unscrewed the gas caps, dropping them to the blacktop.

  I turned my attention back to the pick-up truck, which I’d noticed had a gas can in the bed. I took a deep breath, knowing my plan was out the window if that gas can was empty. Then I reached out my hand again, concentrating on the gas can while also watching it through Henry’s screen-vision. The truck was parked facing away from us, which meant that as long as I was careful, the fireballing attacker wouldn’t see what I was up to.

  With little effort, I got the plastic can up into the air, hovering a few inches off the bed of the truck. Gently turning my hand the way one turns a doorknob, I caused the can to tip up toward its front, spilling out a tiny bit of gas. I felt a wave of relief come over me knowing there was gasoline in it.

  I knew I had to work quickly, so there wasn’t time for self-congratulation. Using subtle movements, I guided the gas can around the truck bed, spilling out a small trickle of fuel as I went.

  “Jeez,” Henry said breathlessly, in shock at actually seeing my plan in action.

  Once the truck bed was pretty well covered, I pulled the can back in my direction off the back of the truck and maneuvered it around the cars nearby. Without raising the can above the car roofs, I was able to pretty well coat a wide area with gasoline without our adversary even knowing we were up to anything at all. He just kept smashing fireballs into the wall above us to keep us pinned down.

  Then came the hard part … the part where I had to actually go out there and do some things with my powers that I wasn’t even sure were possible.

  I turned to Henry. “You think Chad’s in position by now?”

  “He better be,” Henry cried, “He’s missing an arm, not a leg.”

  Nice, I thought sarcastically. But Henry was right. It had to have been long enough. Trusting that Chad was ready, I stood to my full height, turned, and strode out into the parking lot to face the villain.

  He noticed me right away, and for a moment, time sort of stood still. He just stared at me. It was as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Not wanting to jump into battle any faster than necessary, I was willing to return the stare down. I even briefly considered that maybe I could talk my way out of this.

  That thought died in seconds as he snapped back to the present by shaking his head and immediately firing three fireballs on a medium arc toward my current position.

  I knew what I wanted to do. And I knew that, in theory, it was entirely possible—likely even—that I would be able to do it. But because I’d never done it, I still wasn’t completely sure. I wasn’t even close to sure. And yet, when you’re staring at three softball-sized fireballs hurtling through space at your body, instinct kicks in and pushes fear and doubt off to the side just long enough for you to act.

  Without moving, I looked up at the three fireballs, tracking them with Henry’s eyes. I reached out my left arm, hand outstretched, and concentrated on the lead fireball. Suddenly, I “felt” something … it wasn’t a physical touch, and yet, it kind of was. I don’t quite know how to explain it, but it was as though the fireball had locked into my control. And I just knew it, instantly. I’ve got it!

  I flung my arm down toward the ground like a football player spiking the ball after a big touchdown. To my opponent’s horror, the lead fireball raced out of the sky, jerking out of its arc trajectory and plummeting straight down to ground level, where it made contact with the bed of the pickup truck.

  Immediately, the truck burst into flames, and half a second later came a sound like a sonic boom as the truck’s gas tank exploded.

  I’d initially planned on taking any additional fireballs and sending them
straight into the gasoline-soaked parking lot as well, but I ultimately didn’t need to. The explosion of the truck ignited the rest of my trap, and two more cars exploded.

  Clearly, my distraction was going to be a lot bigger than I’d intended, and I started to worry about the fire spreading and blowing up more cars. But one thing I knew for certain: there was no way the attacker was worried about what was behind him. His eyes were giant ovals, and his grip on the hostage seemed to loosen as he stared in wonder at the destruction this twelve-year-old kid had just rained down on him. He was dumbfounded, exactly as I’d hoped he’d be.

  But after a few seconds, I began to wonder why Chad wasn’t making his move. The villain still held the woman in his clutches, even as he gaped at the destruction.

  “Chad … go! Go now!” I said into the microphone that Bentley had added to my camera glasses. Everyone else on the team had earpieces, but mine was attached to the camera. It was a party line, which meant we all heard what was said any time someone spoke into their mic. It was a much better communication system than sending James teleporting around town delivering messages.

  There was no response.

  “Chad?”

  Nothing.

  I shouted. “Chad! Chad, you have to go now!!”

  But all I heard in response was silence. Either Chad was gripped with fear to the point of turning to stone, or something had happened on his way around the grocery store.

  I panicked, just as the villain shook off his amazement and got back into character. He fired six more fireballs in rapid succession over the raging fire, right at the spot where I was standing. This time, they came in on less of an arc and with a lot more velocity. See, I was right, he was taking it easy on us.

  I knew I wasn’t accomplished enough with my powers to handle redirecting six of those things, so I did the next best thing I could think of: I held up my fire extinguisher and started spraying. There was far too much fire coming from my impromptu car bonfire for me to spot the individual fireballs flying toward me. So I mostly just sprayed in front of my face, strafing the nozzle left and right to add coverage.