Ever The Hero (Book 1): Ever The Hero

by Harn, Darby

  Fifteen

  Smoke trawls across the dawn. Ash devils drift down the street ahead of me. Which street, I’ve no idea. An ochre haze shrouds The Derelicts, reducing the scale of the disaster to the hollowed facades of brick buildings and immolated cars, the neighborhood a cardboard set on a Hollywood soundstage from some 60s sci-fi show. The island a sketch in cinder. I don’t know where I am. Where to go. What to do. I wander the ruins like I always have, waiting out the storm at home, but there’s no avoiding this. No denying the awful truth of what happened. I slump to the charred concrete. My skin ember. Thoughts ash. Feelings smoke. There’s enough intact of me to know one thing.

  I can’t run from this.

  Refugees from all across The Derelicts form a line behind the mobile clinic, wrapped around the Halfway Hotel three and four times. Men, women and children, wrapped in coats and blankets, if they have them. Most suffer from smoke inhalation. Shock. Burns go straight into the clinic for treatment. I apply bandages. Salve wounds. Pat shoulders. There’s not much else I can do; the clinic’s supplies exhaust in hours. Vidette cuts up her white lab coat into strips she dresses wounds with and when that’s gone, she starts in on the curtains partitioning the different exam rooms. Six Corners starts to resemble the dirty, bloody, raggedy aftermath of a nuclear war in some bad 80s film.

  Disheveled men argue over what really happened. Few believe it was an airplane. Airplanes don’t crash. Planes have been flying for years into Break Pointe. None of them ever had any trouble with the magnetic web of the wreck. No one argues over how the fire was extinguished. Everybody saw the light show I put on. Rain storm. A woman with a glowing heart. No one recognizes me now. No one sees me as an alien, or even a resident; though I’m Kit in the rain puddles, I’m no one to nobody, a stranger in my own neighborhood like I’ve always been.

  Noon comes. So do dozens more injured. There’s nothing left to strip or cobble together for triage. The line frays, and then reforms down Shelley toward the bridge. More and more head for the Stitch, but the line doesn’t really move.

  Vidette eases down on the steps folding down out the side door of the clinic, eyes bloodshot. “That’s a private hospital over there. Private city. Probably won’t get far.”

  I wonder if they would have run into the same interference on the other side of the bridge last night if The Uniform had been leading them to safety. There’s no place for all these people in Blackwood’s city. There won’t be when all of Break Pointe is the model he planned and executed. There isn’t now.

  “I did this,” I say.

  “You’re a hero. Hey. Can you make it rain cash?”

  I look up, as I always do. “I did this.”

  “Kit… what’s the matter?”

  I zip down the front of the suit she gave me. A hero’s suit. Sullied. Dirtied. Murky light flickers in my chest.

  “Destroy this thing,” I say. “Destroy me.”

  She blinks. “Did you get hit by too much lightning?”

  “I caused the plane to crash.”

  “What?”

  “There was this tug,” I say, squeezing the fabric of the suit. “This pull, from the ship. It’s been drawing me back. Talking to me. It wants me, or the Myriad, anyways. There was this magnetic pull. I think it brought down the plane.”

  She leaves the steps. “Honey…”

  “I should have left. I was going to leave. I should never have taken this thing, but… what did I do?”

  “Kit. Listen.”

  “Please,” I say. “This is the only way.”

  Vidette reaches for me. Her hand closes around the zipper, and she suits me back up. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “None of this would have happened if not for me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’m deeply suspicious.”

  “Here’s what I know. If you were just an alien monster hell bent on destruction, you wouldn’t have put the fire out and you sure as hell wouldn’t be here, dressing burns. You have enormous power. You can do enormous good with it. You have. The ship wants you. The Myriad wants everything. Everyone. Right? You’re controlling it. That’s what you have to do. And it’s tough, I know. Every second of every day, you’re awake. You’re at attention. You’re on top of it, because if you’re not, something bad happens. That’s not just you, honey. That’s a lot of us.”

  There’s pain in her voice. Experience.

  “When I was a girl, I crushed my brother’s hand to pulp. We were fighting over the television. He grabbed the dial and I grabbed his hand. My Dad hit me. He broke his wrist. I went to live with my mom after that. Everyone was afraid of me. I was. Do you know, since that day, I’ve had to be conscious of how much pressure I apply to anything? Your hand. Wine glass. Some boy’s pelvis.” She smiles, and I do, too. “One little touch. That’s all it takes. I can break bones. I can set them, too.”

  “Vi…”

  “You have to face this. You have to acknowledge who and what you are. You can’t run from it. What would change? They have airplanes other places, too. They have people. Things that will tempt this thing in your chest. That’s your reality. That’s your truth. You can’t avoid it. This is you, Kit. This is your power. Not the ship’s. Not anyone else’s. Yours.”

  I shake my head. “How do I face it?”

  She looks down Shelley, toward the wall.

  Even now the ship pulls on me. What does it want? Its pilot back, I suppose. For the work continue, whatever that is. Well. I know what it is. The acquisition of energy. Life. A mission that carried the Ever across the stars. What I don’t know is why. I can find out. I can open the door, and face what’s behind it, and within me, and accept this is who I am.

  God.

  The closer I get to the ship, to the alien, the further I get from myself. Valene. This was all for Valene. What is this all for? What is going to happen now? Who am I going to be?

  We must continue, the voice says.

  I clutch the zipper of my jacket. “What if I fail?”

  Her smile doesn’t get any lift. “Then you learn a valuable lesson. And I’m guessing the rest of us do, too.”

  “I can’t risk any more.”

  “We haven’t faced this for fifty years. This wreck has been sitting here, changing us, eroding us, eating through the box we keep it in. We have to face the music, honey. And you’re us.”

  We are you.

  “I wish I had your strength,” I say.

  “You have something better.”

  “What’s that?”

  Vidette taps my buzzing hand. “She’s calling you.”

  “Goddess,” Abi says.

  I gave everything to the fire. Mind, body, some shard of my soul, I’m sure. There’s nothing left but this ashen paranoia, waiting for the other shoe. But for Abi, I muster a smile.

  “You’re too kind,” I say.

  Abi sits on the couch next to me, with a plate of cookies. Always cookies. “You’re a legit superhero. Dude. Goddess doesn’t begin to cover it. What was it like? Getting hit by lightning?”

  I peck at the gooey edge of a chocolate chip cookie. “It was like being hit by lightning.”

  Abi nods. “Did you taste pennies?”

  “Pennies?”

  She shrugs. “You ok, though? Besides?”

  “I’m really tired.”

  Abi pats her lap. “Lie down.”

  “Are we ok to be here?” I say, looking around her apartment. “The Uniform knows who I am. That we’re friends.”

  She touches my hand as I pick at the cookie. “It was raining and the fire was going out, and he was like, astonished. He has powers, but he was like a kid, watching a movie.”

  “Huh.”

  She tugs on my hand, drawing me closer. “I was astonished.”

  “Yeah?”

  Abi kisses my gloved hand, and holds it in hers, against her anxious heart, ba-dumm. “You astonish me.”

  I bite into my cookie, gooey and warm. The cookie doe
sn’t taste like anything, not anymore. None of the sugar or sweet distraction meets my lips, as much as I need them. Only the energy inherent in the calories; the molecules; the atoms.

  I put the rest of the cookie back on the plate. “I need to get back out there. There’s still so much to do.”

  Abi clears her throat. “You thinking about staying?”

  I’m trying not to think. My thoughtlessness maybe has had the stage too long. Too much flies around in my head. The plane. The ship. Valene. Ma. Running. Staying. Becoming.

  “I’m afraid, Abi.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m afraid if I acknowledge what’s happened… this power… then things won’t ever be the same. I won’t ever be the same.”

  Her lips squirm. “Do you want to be?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know you were happy.”

  “I was going through a lot,” I say.

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes clench. “Sorry. I mean, before? Before I met you, and you know… Valene and stuff. Your mom. Were you happy, then? Did you want that, or did you…”

  I don’t know. I didn’t allow myself to.

  “You know what’s strange? I’ve become other people. I’ve gone other places. With this power. Like it’s happening right now. Destos. Even though it might have been thousands of years ago, or millions… I’m there. And it’s not that weird, because… you know, it’s like my dad. It was years ago he died, but it feels like yesterday. I don’t think about it. The between. I still feel like I’m in that day, and I’m wandering out in the ruins trying not to go home because he’s not going to be there.”

  Abi squeezes my hand. “Your mom is still here. Your dad is, too. It’s just different. It’s like you.”

  I don’t want to think about this, but it’s like the birds out the windows. These thoughts just won’t leave me alone.

  “Like me?”

  “You’re still here,” she says. “But you’re different.”

  “I’m me.”

  She squeezes my hand. “So like, what scares you more? Leaving and changing, or staying, and maybe just being?”

  I shake my head. “Being?”

  “You’ve lost so much. Probably seems like you’ve lost yourself. But like, just knowing you, I kind of get the vibe that you’ve never really let you be you. Maybe now is a good time for that. Instead of leaving and adopting an alias and pretending to be someone you’re not, maybe actually stay. Be you. Be present, actually, for the first time and stuff.”

  I’ve never been myself. Not that I’m hiding anything. There’s nothing to show. Blank screen. I don’t want them to see. I don’t know want them to know I’m some freak jimmied together in hope and dumb luck. Where I went wrong was thinking I’d been made new, through Valene. I could be better. That’s what I thought. I’ll save her. And doing that, I’ll be something more. Something useful. Necessary. Valene didn’t need me. She didn’t want me to do this, not really. What she wanted was peace, but how could I have peace, if my hands weren’t busy? I couldn’t just be. Some part of me knew that. Even with her, I couldn’t because I don’t have that. I don’t have the parts for that.

  “I don’t know.” I don’t know what I’m saying. “I mean, there’s nothing here for me,” I say, and Abi looks away. “I’ve lost everything. My work. My pictures, my – ”

  “Oh! Your stuff!”

  Abi springs from the couch. She hurries quick into the bedroom and returns just as fast, with my saddlebag.

  “Is that – ?”

  “Sorry. I was going to mention it sooner, but there was kind of a lot going on all at once.” She hands me the bag. “After you went missing, I went over to the garage.”

  “What?”

  “I was looking for you,” Abi says. “But you obviously weren’t there. And I didn’t feel one hundred percent just leaving all this there, so I brought it back with me.”

  Everything is here. Pictures. Ma’s jewelry. Her ashes. Usually, I don’t feel anything. Or at least, I try not to. Right now, I feel more than I did being struck by lightning.

  “Abi,” I say, my voice breaking. “Thank you.”

  She smiles. “Always.”

  “And thank you, for helping me during the fire.”

  “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

  I set the plate on the table. I curl up on the couch, the saddlebag in my arms, and rest my head in Abi’s lap. Her heart beats rapturously in her chest, ba-dumm, ba-dumm, ba-dumm, punctuating one of those thoughts I try to avoid but more and more I find I can’t. Yes. We make a very good team.

  My PEAL buzzes with a text from Vidette. The news.

  I scroll through the headlines, and click on a link. With a swipe, I send the video link to Abi’s TV. The screen flickers on and Mike Dodge takes the podium in the pressroom at the Blackwood Building, over the din of hundreds of questions.

  Abi stretches out of her sleep on the couch. “What’s this?”

  “Press conference,” I say.

  Dodge talks over the reporters before him until they relent. “I will make a brief statement on the incident in Break Pointe. Everyone at GP is saddened and shocked by the crash of Flight 347 early this morning. And we share the frustration of the families and loved ones of the deceased. This tragedy did not have to happen. Not because Great Power could have prevented it. That burden lies with the city, and its leaders.”

  I bite my lip, cutting off the anger welling behind them. You don’t need to be a telepath like Piller to know that Dodge is about to recite some variation on Blackwood’s gala speech.

  “The city has not paid its dues in over a year. Despite repeated attempts on GP’s part to resolve the crisis, we remain at an impasse. Some might say the price for our services is too high. Today we realize the true cost of not procuring the safety and security only we can provide. Break Pointe is not safe. The alien wreck is not safe. Allow us to do our jobs, and make safe the city, and the world, once and for all.”

  Bleeding Jesus. He’s turning the deaths of hundreds of Americans into an advertisement for Great Power.

  Questions gun from the reporters gathered before him. Frankie’s voice breaks through the harangue.

  “Didn’t you have a moral obligation to help?”

  “We deeply mourn the loss of so many lives,” Dodge says, “but if we had acted – and we weren’t in a position to, besides – we would have been in violation of the law. The penalties are severe, all of which put GP at considerable risk, and by extension, those communities in good standing with us.”

  Frankie talks over the next reporter’s question. “There were passengers on Flight 347 from communities in good standing with GP. You’re saying it was just their tough luck?”

  Fire burns within me all the time, but now ice slides down my back. “What is she saying? People died that paid?”

  Abi reaches for me. “Dude. Shit.”

  I leave the couch. “What?”

  Dodge looks down at the podium. He moves his pen. “This is difficult to understand… complex, legally, and – “

  “I don’t think it’s that difficult to understand,” Frankie says. “People buy your services expecting it to always be there, because, you know – that’s how you sell it – but they buy it from their city like they buy their health insurance from their employer. Turns out not all their doctors are in the network.”

  He smiles. “Perhaps people should have been more circumspect in deciding to travel to Break Pointe.”

  Now he’s blaming them for dying. The magnets fly off Abi’s fridge against me. She ducks low on the couch, clutching a pillow against her chest. Don’t. Don’t feel. Don’t think.

  Just be.

  “People shouldn’t travel here?” Frankie says.

  Dodge holds up his hand. “Next question.”

  “Your contention is the wreck caused the crash?”

  “Yes,” Dodge says.

  The fridge rattles in the kitchen. “What�
��”

  Abi slides off the couch to the floor. “Kit. Be cool.”

  “Clearly, there is an increase of anomalous behavior from the wreck, as we have been warning about for years. If the city would move forward on the resolution before the council, the best and brightest minds can proceed with solving this issue of the wreck and restoring the city to health.”

  Birds drum against the windows, ba-dumm, ba-dumm, ba-dumm, desperate and confused. All of this is my fault. Valene. Ma. The plane. My own horror. I sink to my knees. God.

  What have I done?

  Abi crawls across the carpet to me. “Kit. It’s ok.”

  Another reporter asks questions. I don’t hear. Frankie muscles her way back to the attention of Dodge.

  “So the alien fugitive is responsible? Or the ship?”

  “If there’s a difference,” Dodge says.

  “That’s funny, because several eyewitnesses identify the ‘alien’ GP is currently searching for as the subject responsible for triggering the rainstorm and putting the fire out,” Frankie says. “I personally witnessed this, as well as this same being rescuing dozens of trapped residents from the roof of a burning apartment complex. Why would an alien help put out a fire?”

  Dodge shrugs as he points to another reporter in the pool. “This is all pure speculation.”

  “Maybe she’s not an alien. Maybe she’s an Empowered looking to do something good in a city where you won’t, and you’re using this narrative of an alien menace to shut her down.”

  Dodge tries to laugh. “I think the only person advancing a narrative here is you, Frankie.”

  “The Uniform is on record as this individual did put the fire out. Since he’s actually been on the ground here doing something, why shouldn’t we take him at his word?”

  “I thought she hated me,” I say.

  Abi squeezes my hand. “Actually, I think she likes you.”

  “How can you tell?”

  She sighs. “Dude.”

  “So you don’t have any rogue Empowered?” Frankie says, her smile seeping through. “No one responded to the plane?”

  Dodge shakes his head. “There wasn’t any time to respond.”