Blaze of Glory

by Sheryl Nantus

  I jolted awake, grabbing the edges of the desk with both hands. Only a few minutes had passed during my brief nap.

  The screen was still filled with chat screens, code names and phrases scrolling by faster than I could read them. Closing the news feed, I stood as Jessie grunted his way up the steps with a television set, David close behind with another lamp.

  “Can’t let you lose your eyesight squinting at a small screen. And you can never have too much light.” He placed the ancient device on the small table by the bed and plugged it in. Jessie wrestled the fifteen-inch color set into a corner, placing it on the floor. As he stood up he groaned, both hands on the small of his back.

  “Oh, stifle it. You’re too young to have back problems,” David groused before Jessie could say anything. “Any news?” He turned his attention to me as I moved back onto the couch.

  “All bad.” I shook my head. “At least I don’t have to worry about my head popping off anytime soon.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I propped myself up against the cushions. “What’s the word from your friends?”

  “Give me a second, ’kay?” He sat in the chair, scanning the different windows as fast as he could switch back and forth between them.

  “Okay, the good news is that there are other supers still alive out there—people report seeing them around, ducking in and out of the shadows. Even had a few robberies that can be directly connected to them. Bad news is that they’re not the top teams—mostly the villains and the B-listers, like you.” Jessie glanced at me, a light blush on his cheeks. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken.” I nodded. “Only makes sense. They would have sent in the big guns to start with. Mike and I were only called up when it became obvious that Ace wasn’t going to be able to cut it, and they wanted to get as many Guardians as they could to the site to take command.” My voice sounded flat and emotionless. “What’s up with my idea to send out a transmission on our internal link?”

  He scratched the back of his head. “Actually, Uncle had the best idea here. Head up to the tower and then wire yourself into one of the antennas and broadcast that way.” He pointed at the screen. “The only problem, frankly, is getting you hooked up. I assume you don’t have a jack in your mouth that’ll connect to the antenna.”

  I chuckled. “No, not that I know of.”

  “Then come here.” He motioned me closer. “Point at the transmitter.”

  I got up from the couch and walked across the room, taking his hand and placing it on my jaw. “Here. You can feel the lump.”

  He winced as he felt the small bulge. “Nasty. But I’ve got an idea. Work with me here.” A finger waved in the air. “Your ability is to see and control electromagnetic waves, right?”

  I nodded, frowning as Jessie began to smile.

  “That transmitter is a bit different than the plug—it only transmits when you want it to, but receives whenever a transmission comes in. Which means that you could, if you tried, probably see the specific frequency as it sends out the signal. You probably don’t notice it normally because it’s sort of at the edge of your vision where it’s implanted. You’ll have to use your peripheral vision, or feel it if you can.”

  “What about the plug?”

  “That’s a bit of an issue. I’m going to have to use this frequency generator.” He gestured at a nondescript beige box that had two large black and silver dials on it that reminded me of an old TV set. “And keep running through different frequencies until I get a signal back from your plug.”

  I stared at him, resisting the urge to scratch. “Won’t that set it off?”

  “No. If it were that sensitive to you just pinging the frequency, you’d be dead by now—any microwave oven or cell phone or wireless laptop could have popped it.” He grinned. “But that’s not how it works. So what we need to do is find the frequency and then we’ll work on blocking it.”

  My head was spinning. “And my transmission?”

  “Once you have the frequency, what you can do when you get to the top of the tower is roll your power over the radio waves and use them to extend your range. But not for long. It’ll be caught by the networks if you hang on the air. And I don’t think you want this making headline news.”

  “Definitely not.” Stifling a yawn, I walked over to the window. “As soon as you get it I have to fly. Literally.”

  “Let’s get started then.” Jessie pulled the frequency sweep device over and started playing with the dials.

  Several hours later I was standing at the bottom of the CN Tower, shivering in the cool night air. I had left instructions with Jessie to go home and rest up. We had gotten pretty close to locating the actual frequency with the plug, but I had just been too tired to continue—not surprising considering what I had gone through over the past few days. Still, it was a start.

  David had busied himself with setting up the small apartment as if I had never left it, running to the local grocery store to stock up on diet soda and bottled water. Now the bar fridge looked like we were preparing for a siege, fresh fruit and veggies jostling for room with granola bars and plenty of bottled water.

  The CN Tower, the tallest free-standing building in the world a few decades ago, stood near the big sports stadium and a stone’s throw away from the bars that serve the locals and make a bundle off the fans heading either to the baseball games or tourists heading up to the top of the tower. But there weren’t any games going on tonight and it was almost midnight, too late for most visitors looking for that great view out over to Buffalo on the observation deck.

  It was quiet but still dangerous—the restaurant at the top of the tower was sure to be busy, and I didn’t want to advertise that I had come home so soon. I exhaled slowly, pulling gently on the waves that emanated from the concrete in front of me. Flying had become second nature to me, but I had to concentrate otherwise gravity would come back with her full fury at being thwarted.

  A brief push off the ground and I was ascending, the backpack Jessie had slid over my shoulders throwing me a bit off-balance at first. It took only a few seconds to make adjustments for the extra weight and I was on my way.

  The cool cement flashed by me as I flew up the side of the tower as quickly as possible, trying to keep away from the glass elevator that carried the tourists and the restaurant patrons up. Last thing I needed was to terrify some poor kid or senior citizen out for a nice night on the town.

  Fortunately the restaurant was half-empty, and I zipped past the windows so fast that if anyone had seen me they probably would have put it down to an illusion. As I approached the antenna at the top I couldn’t help shaking a bit—this was the break point. Once I sent out that message I’d not only let the other supers know I was still alive but also anyone monitoring the frequency, like the Agency.

  It only took a few minutes to hook up Jessie’s jury-rigged box to the control panel, the multicolored wires and fancy computer chips laid out just like he had said they would be. I didn’t ask how he knew that.

  “Hello…” My voice faltered for a second, then returned. “This is Jo Tanis, codename Surf. I’m calling any supers who are still alive to come to Toronto, Canada to form a group to…” The cliché stuck in my throat. “I want to get us together to take on these invaders as a single, unified force away from the Agency. Away from the Guardians. Just us.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll meet you at dusk here at the base of the CN Tower for the next three days. I’ll understand if you decide not to come.” A deep breath. “As my Guardian Mike would say…would have said—time to save the world, kids.”

  I snapped the connection, ripping the wires free. Then I sat atop one of the highest free-standing structures in the world, wondering if I could really see Buffalo in the darkness and New York City just beyond. And if I could fly there just on good thoughts and intentions.

  It was just before dawn when I settled on the ground in an alleyway not far from the bookstore, landing as much in the shadows as I could. At this time of the morning it was
unlikely that anyone would see me, but I wasn’t about to take too many chances. I didn’t want to come out in the open, not just yet, and have people start asking questions that I couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. Of course I landed in a puddle of dirty water, soaking what had been a pretty decent pair of sneakers a day or so ago.

  “Hey, girlie…” The soft call snapped me around like a rubber band.

  A tall man moved out of the darkness, a knife waving back and forth in the dim moonlight. “Give me your wallet.”

  I smiled, pulling together the power and concentrating it into the palms of my gloves. “Sure…” The thin hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I reveled in the familiar feeling. “Come on closer and I’ll toss it to you…”

  Chapter Six

  I resisted the urge to kick the unconscious man in the stomach just because I could. It really wasn’t the hero thing to do. Instead I rolled him onto his side, checked his breathing and emptied his pockets of about fifty dollars. My conscience didn’t give me much grief about taking the money. I still had no identification or cash, and while I wasn’t that worried about being stopped for ID, I was definitely going to need some cash in the future. Jessie and David could only do so much.

  Thankfully there was already some pedestrian traffic as I walked out onto Queen Street, looking as inconspicuous as possible. I had taken off my jacket and let my hair fly free. My gloves were stuffed back into my jacket pockets, giving me a bit more freedom with my hands but a little less ability to channel my power.

  A thick-set heavy man bumped into me as I strode along the sidewalk. “Sorry.” His words were slurred, though he didn’t smell of alcohol. “Sorry,” he repeated.

  “It’s okay.” I inwardly flinched as he lifted his hand towards my arm then dropped it again.

  “I’m tired.” He smiled at me, sending a shiver up my spine—the sort you get when you meet the neighborhood’s dirty old man at your open house. “I think I need to get a coffee.” A fat thumb jabbed towards the coffee shop. “Buy me a drink?”

  I put on my best “you’ve got to be kidding me” face. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve already got a breakfast date.”

  The short, overweight man leaned in closer, his undersized T-shirt exposing a few more inches of hairy skin than I was comfortable with. “I really think you should have a drink with me.”

  He stretched out a hand to a paper cup sitting haphazardly on the newspaper box next to us. It melted under his touch, curling into a small flaming pile of cardboard. He slapped it down with his hand, putting it out. “You wanna talk now?”

  The coffee was strong, some sort of Columbian brand that the shop was featuring in their daily push to caffeine addicts. The super took a deep swallow from his own mug, grimacing at the taste.

  “Crap. Should have gotten the espresso.” He put the mug down. “So you’re Surf.”

  I winced at the name. “Just call me Jo. I don’t think we really need to use those now.”

  “Sure.” A beam of morning sunlight bounced off his nearly bald head. “Name’s Harris Limox. Codename Meltdown.”

  I must have given myself away with the gasp. He chuckled, grabbing a few packets of sugar and dumping them in his cup.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. A bad guy. Never came up against you in rotation, but I’d heard of you and Mike. One helluva team.”

  “Thanks.” The half and half had taken the edge off but the coffee still could use some sweetness. “How did you make it here so fast?” I frowned. “And how’d you find me? I said I’d go back to the tower in twenty-four hours.”

  Limox nodded towards the busy street outside. “I was down in Detroit when the crap hit the wall. Hiked across the border in Windsor and grabbed a bus, first to Ottawa, but hopped off here when I got your message.” One meaty finger touched his jaw. “Scared the hell out of me when I heard you. I was half asleep on the bus and thought I was totally losing it. We got into Toronto about dawn and I headed for the tower.” He stabbed a finger into the sky. “Not hard to see that from anywhere downtown. I spotted you flying away and followed you, keeping quiet.”

  “Why?”

  He played with his cup a minute before responding. “I thought it might be a trap. Wouldn’t put it past the Agency. When I saw there wasn’t anyone hanging around, I decided to follow you for a bit, just to be sure.” He laughed. “Watched you take that guy out. Nice work.”

  I lowered my head, trying to hide my embarrassed blush. “Why were you heading for Ottawa?”

  “Asking for refugee status. Asylum.” He grinned, showing off a set of rotted teeth that both startled and depressed me. “Figured I’d take advantage of my freedom to get the hell out of the States.”

  “Except that I’m Canadian and we signed off on the North American Super Act.” My knuckles rapped the top of the table. “You’d have gotten nowhere with that. There’s no country in the world that offers asylum to supers.”

  The shocked look on his face said it all. “Damn. Must have slept through that part of the briefing.”

  I couldn’t help smiling as I took another sip of coffee. “Was part of the orientation.”

  “So you’re putting together a team to fight the bad guys.” He said it so loudly that I winced. “What, you think they care?” Limox jerked a thumb at the milling people grabbing their morning coffee and rushing off to parts unknown. “You think they give a shit about us?” He leaned in. “So why should we give a shit about them?”

  I moved in close, trying not to inhale the smell of sweat and a few days without a shower. “Because we’re supers and it’s what we do.” My eyes narrowed. “So if you’re not interested in helping them, then why are you here?”

  “I want to stay alive.” The angry whisper matched the deadness in his eyes. “Tell me you figured out how to get this out.” His fat index finger tapped the back of his neck. “’Cause I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t be trying to be the hero if you were afraid they’d pop you like a zit.”

  I leaned back in the chair. “Really. So you’re only going to help if I keep you alive.”

  “It works for me.” Limox took another sip of coffee. “I’m a bad guy, remember? I chose that for a reason.”

  A gaggle of schoolgirls paused at the corner, waiting for the light to change, and his concentration snapped from the coffee to the barely-covering-vital-parts skirts they were wearing. I sighed. Now I remembered the briefing on Meltdown. It was part of a general know-your-enemy ramble just in case we had to fill in for an A-lister.

  “Where’s your Guardian?” I glanced around in a fit of paranoia. No one seemed to be paying attention to us, grabbing their daily or hourly cup of caffeine and heading out the door. We were just another pair of strange people sitting in a coffee shop rambling on about nothing.

  Limox looked down at the small rickety wooden table between us, picking up one of the flimsy brown napkins and folding it over and over in some sort of odd pattern. “He died. Like yours, I figure.”

  A rush of sympathy came over me for a second before I tamped it down again, remembering who this was. “I see.”

  The thin paper bent back and forth, finally emerging as a weak-winged origami crane. “Joseph was a good guy. Didn’t want to fight, a sort of a pacifist.” He laughed softly. “Funny, hmm?” The paper creation moved to sit between us. “He was a wimp. Always trying to convince me to swing back to the other side.” Two thick fingers tried to bend one of the faux wings back, failed. “He never even got out of the gate. What do they call it, collateral damage?” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “Building we were in fell down around us. Whole support team dead. I melted my way out.”

  I nodded. “I’ll give you a chance to avenge them.”

  “Not them.” The harsh tone startled me, his index finger shooting into the air. “Just Joseph. I don’t give a shit about the rest of them. He was a good guy.”

  “Noted.” I finished off the last of the cooling coffee. “Let’s go. I’ve got a base of operations already.” The words sounded
rather grandiose coming out of my mouth.

  “As long as you understand.” The recycled paper cup crumpled in his hand. “I’m not doing this for you or for the government. Nothing here but revenge.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “And for you making sure the Agency doesn’t kill me for not racing off to get whacked like a fly on the wall.” A weary smile appeared on the overweight man’s face. “Just like you.”

  “Just like me.” I returned the grin, getting to my feet. “Just try not to show off.”

  He pouted, his lower lip jutting out so far I could have set my empty cup on it. “Spoilsport.”

  It was a short walk back to the bookstore. As I opened the front door David jumped up from behind the counter.

  “Thank goodness you’re back. We were getting worried about you…” His voice trailed off as he stared at Limox. “Hello.”

  “This is Harris Limox.” I gave David what I hoped was a positive nod. “He’s going to be joining me for the time being.”

  “Good. Good.” Stepping forward, the elderly man took Limox’s hand, pumping it up and down. “Good to meet you.”

  “Glad to meet you too.” Limox’s confused expression had me chuckling inside. It was unlikely he’d ever had such a reaction from a civilian, not lately. He glanced around the store—the books stacked from floor to ceiling and sprawled across the floor in haphazard piles that threatened to overwhelm anyone not athletic enough to dance out of the way. “You’re setting up shop here?”

  “Upstairs.” I jerked a thumb at the ceiling. “The stairs are at the back. Grab anything you want to read along the way.”

  As the super picked and poked his way towards the back of the store I leaned in to talk to David. “He’s been one of the villains up until now.”

  David’s eyes went wide. “And you want him to help?”

  “He’s the first I’ve had turn up.” I put the backpack of equipment up on the counter. “And I’m not going to turn him down because he’s been playing the bad guy up until now.”