by Corey Tate
Think of Molly, think of Molly, think of Molly!
He quickly scanned the arena for the two other prisoners and saw that they were preoccupied, fighting each other.
Good. He and Sam still had a moment to catch their breath.
He was the first to break the awkward silence. “Did you do that?”
“Yeah. Shadow travel.” She paused. “Can you see them?”
Scott nodded.
“Good. Keep your eye on them in case they try to pull anything.”
The one on the left was Bernard, the man who had been in the cage near Scott. The one on the right had on a maroon T-shirt and white shorts. He was wearing a huge grin but no shoes.
“No shoes” shot a bolt of blue lightning as thin and straight as a pencil out of his outstretched hand at Bernard. Bernard created some kind of invisible force field the size of Captain America’s shield, and the lightning bounced off it in all directions.
Holy mother of God, Scott thought, I’m in a comic book—and I’m never gonna live to see the last page.
“No shoes” wasn’t finished. He moved his hand slightly, and all the lightning collected into one tiny mass of electricity the size of a softball right above Bernard’s head. Bernard dove to the ground and created another force field around him as he was falling.
The lightning exploded with a soft pop, and every spot of dirt within a thirty-foot diameter of the explosion was incinerated. There was a large crater in the place where Bernard had once stood.
“No shoes” smiled and started to walk toward Scott and Sam.
“Get me up!” Sam yelled to Scott, “quickly!”
He lifted her up, and she leaned on him for support.
“No shoes” started to jog, and soon he was only about a hundred feet away from them.
Suddenly, “No shoes” stopped jogging and clawed at his eyes, which were bleeding profusely. Then something seemed to hit him hard in the chest. He flew back twenty feet and landed on his back, dead.
“Craaap,” Sam groaned.
“What?” Scott asked, none too calmly.
Sam didn’t answer, and she didn’t need to. Bernard became visible right next to the no-shoes guy and placed his hand right on his chest. Green light flowed into Bernard, and he stood up and closed his eyes. He reopened them a moment later and looked directly at Sam and Scott. Bernard smiled a very creepy, chilling, horrible smile. His eyes were the color of blood, indicating that he had already Accelerated. Then he vanished.
Scott started to freak out and spin around, frantically looking for the man he could not see.
“Hey,” Sam said calmly, “stand still and listen for him. He’s going to target me because I’ll move slower. Use your sonar if you can but keep your eyes under control. He’ll appear in a little bit.”
Scott rotated his jaw, and his normal hearing turned into the white noise of the sonar hearing. He winced and tried to concentrate with his sonar, but the crowd was too loud. Sonar waves were bouncing off everything, hitting each other and creating loud, obnoxious static. He dialed it back a bit, because he could feel that familiar hum in his eyes that told him they were changing.
A couple seconds later Bernard appeared not twenty feet away from them, completely visible. He looked down at his body with a very confused expression on his face. Scott was also confused.
“Remember,” Sam explained to Scott quietly, “I’m like a power cell. My neutrality power is keeping him from becoming invisible when he’s near me. Stay close.”
Bernard thrust out his palms. Nothing happened.
He tried it again. Nothing.
Finally realizing that it was either Sam or Scott who was causing his powers to deactivate, he stepped backward three steps. On the third step, Bernard once more became invisible.
The millisecond that Sam and Scott could no longer see him, a thin bolt of electricity came rocketing toward them.
Scott’s vision had flashed in the split second before the lightning was thrown, warning him of the incoming danger. He pulled Sam down to the ground, and they both landed on their stomachs. The bolt of lightning shot past them, making all the hairs on both of their bodies stand up. The crowd yelled in need of bloodshed, and the air suddenly smelled like burning rubber.
A woman’s terrible scream was heard in the crowd. Someone had just been struck by the lightning.
Another bolt of lightning aimed at Sam came out of nowhere, and this time they had no room to dodge. When the lightning was just about to hit them, Scott instinctively Accelerated and shielded Sam’s face with his hands, closing his eyes and tensing his body.
The lightning collected in his huge palms, and Scott was flung back ten feet. His hands knocked Sam in the temple, and she screamed in pain, rolling to the side from the impact.
He landed hard on his back. He felt his hands grow unbearably hot and began to yell. The lightning arced out of his hands, turning into a deep purple color, and immediately followed a narrow path in the air, hitting Bernard in the chest and knocking him down.
He looked at his steaming hands, then at Sam.
“You know what they say about men with big hands,” she teased as she tried to stand up.
She cried out again and collapsed to the ground, holding her leg. It was gushing blood out of the bullet hole now, turning Scott’s gray shirt maroon.
Bernard was about to shoot three more bolts of lightning as he rose to stand again. With his sonar vision Scott could see the energy building inside Bernard’s hands.
But Scott was too far back. He couldn’t stop it.
Sam didn’t see Bernard aiming at her—she was still holding her leg and putting pressure on it.
No! Scott thought, anger and determination welling up from somewhere deep inside.
A low grinding noise was heard coming from the ground. A wall of solid rock rapidly rose up from the dirt just in time to be blasted by the waves of electricity.
The lightning didn’t make it through the rock, but Scott felt it hit the ground and leave an imprint. A fresh round of adrenaline shot through him like cold water on a blazing summer day.
As soon as Bernard’s lightning hit the barrier, two more jolts of electricity wormed around the left and the right side of it.
“No, Scott.” Sam was wheezing. “You can’t . . . use . . . too much . . .”
Scott waved his right arm away from his chest reflexively, and three minivan-sized pieces of rock broke from the ground and floated in midair. He flicked his wrist, and one of the rocks sped toward one of the branches of electricity. It hit the electricity, exploded, and landed far off on the other side of the field. He copied this technique with the other branch of electricity. He prepared to fire the third piece of rock, aiming it at Bernard.
Suddenly he felt extremely weak, like he had just run a marathon. His shoulders sagged, and it was all he could do to keep from falling to his knees. The rock that Scott had been floating in midair dropped to the ground with a resounding crash. Scott dropped to the ground, too, on his hands and knees, sweat dripping everywhere.
“Hey,” Sam said, tapping Scott on the shoulder and reminding him that she was there, “as soon as you . . . see another shot of electricity coming . . . close your eyes for a second and . . . hurl a smaller rock as hard as you can . . . at the spot.”
He didn’t know if he could, but he nodded his head in agreement, still looking at the ground.
The next bolt of lightning came from Scott’s far left. As soon as he sensed it coming, he closed his eyes and threw a fist-sized hunk of rock out of the ground as hard as he could.
The second Scott let go, the insides of his eyes lit up as if the sun itself were inside them. He gasped, and his first initial thought was that he had missed and gotten hit with lightning.
Within the same second, though, the light became dim again, and Scott reopened his eyes. The crowd became almost completely silent, save for the people in the stands yelling, screaming, and complaining about their eyes bleeding.
> The rock was hurtling toward Bernard, who was now visible and screaming at the top of his lungs. He was covering both of his eyes and thrashing while standing in place. When the small rock was about to reach him, he raised his head and the rock bounced off an invisible force field. Still, it was a very fast-moving rock, and the power of it hitting the force field around his head knocked him flat on his back.
Scott used the last remains of his strength to walk over to Bernard.
“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” the crowd roared.
Scott fell to his knees for the second time, next to Bernard.
He looked back at Sam. She was lying a good distance away on the ground now, completely passed out.
Bernard was mumbling something about “the light,” and he was writhing on the ground. The crowd just grew louder and louder, calling for Bernard’s head and laughing at Scott. Scott would have cried in frustration, but he was too exhausted.
“This is your fault!” Scott yelled down at him.
He punched the squirming, defenseless Bernard in the face, using all his enhanced Accelerated strength. In one punch he took out all his confusion, sadness, and anger from the past few days on Bernard, who was now knocked out cold with a screwed-up-looking nose.
As soon as his fist connected, Scott experienced a familiar feeling. His hand tingled, but it went away in a second, just as it had done the previous times.
“Aaargh!” Scott screamed, staring at his hand. “What is happening?!”
The crowd roared at the violence, and they all just kept chanting for Scott to kill him.
Craaaaaaaackkkk!
A familiar old man dressed in brightly colored blue-and-black robes appeared next to Scott through a rip in the universe.
Scott started to have a seizure at that exact moment. He fell to his side. His body was no longer under his control, and his mouth tasted like bile and filled with saliva like a racoon with rabies.
Just as his vision was getting dark, the old man grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up onto his back. Scott once again felt the odd tingling feeling in his limbs, and the man gestured at Sam and mumbled something in an old, archaic language. She flew toward them, and a second later they all traveled through the space rip.
“No!” Scott heard Kane yell from somewhere in the Coliseum right before he lost consciousness.
The Cavern
Scott woke up to find himself back in his bed at home. He was in his favorite pajamas, lying with his head propped comfortably against a pillow.
“Scott! Get up! It’s time for school!” his mother called from downstairs.
He grinned and threw off his covers. He threw his feet over the side of the bed and stood up.
Thick hands emerged from under the bed and pulled his feet completely out from under him. He slammed his face on the floor, cried out, and kicked his left foot into the face of whoever was under his bed. A man grunted angrily, and the grip on Scott’s ankles lessened. Scott kicked three more times with both feet to break the grip, then scrambled to his feet and whipped around.
“Mom, call the cops!” Scott screamed the first thing that came to mind.
The bed suddenly shot up to the ceiling, and the frame splintered into pieces across the room. A big portion of the ceiling fell onto the floor, and he shielded his face with his forearm.
The man under the bed was already on his feet. He reached out a hand and laughed at Scott.
“No,” Scott gasped as he saw white sparks dance across the man’s outstretched fingertips.
It was Bernard.
“Die, boy.” Bernard laughed, showing his yellow, crooked teeth.
Lightning blasted into Scott’s face, and he screamed.
* * *
“Aaaaaahh!”
Scott fell backward against the white sheets of the hospital bed. There were machines by the walls and a needle in his arm.
He lifted his head and looked around the room. It was a medium-sized space that was completely white, except for a set of neatly folded clothes placed at the foot of his bed.
He tried to slide out of the bed but quickly returned to the haven under the covers.
He was naked. Why was he naked?
He made a move to reach toward his feet to get the clothes, but a sudden noise made him jump.
“What’s your name?” someone asked bluntly.
He looked over at the direction of the voice and, by doing so, realized that his sonar vision was gone now.
Scott glanced at the rest of his body—he had returned to normal. He finally lifted his head to look at whoever had spoken.
Leaning in the doorway was a tall, powerfully built young man, around eighteen or nineteen years old. His jet-black hair was cut short, military-style, and he was wearing black shorts, a tight, light-gray muscle shirt, and what looked like a permanent scowl. His arms were crossed in front of his chest.
“How long have I been asleep?” Scott said, dodging the question. “Where’s Sam?”
“Twenty-three hours. Answer the question.”
“What’s your name? And where is Sam?”
“I don’t have time for games. Now answer the question!” the stranger spat.
Scott told him his name.
“Just great,” the young man muttered to himself, “Scott Faranger. Why did you come here?”
“I got pushed over a boat,” he replied glumly.
“What? How?”
“I dunno who it was.” Scott looked at the angry newcomer as he said this, waiting for a reaction.
The stranger’s body language gave away nothing, other than that he was an arrogant jerk.
“Hmmm . . . I see,” Mr. Attitude said thoughtfully, eyeing Scott. “Do you want to go home then?”
“Hell, yes!”
“Well, sorry to burst your bubble. It doesn’t matter how much you scream for your mommy in your sleep. The portal isn’t open on our side yet. You’re gonna have to wait a few days.”
I screamed in my sleep? Scott thought. Great.
“Artam?” Scott started to remember. “He was in a dream of mine!”
“Cool. Well, he likes you. Says you’re the key to getting our world back,” the stranger huffed. “That’s pretty much the only reason why you’re here.”
Scott closed his eyes. “I don’t care about being a key for whatever crusade you’re on—”
“Neither do I.”
“—or this whole planet-ending thing. If you could somehow make it possible for me to get back to planet Earth, that would be great. I just want to go home, finish the cruise, go back to school, and see if I made the soccer team. You can do all this superhero stuff yourself. I’m done having seizures. They suck.”
Scott opened his eyes to find his verbal sparring opponent wearing a big fat smirk.
“What’s so funny?”
“Make the soccer team? You’re like a two-year-old who can’t see over a counter,” he scoffed.
“Look, bro,” Scott said impatiently, “as you can clearly see, I’ve barely lived through all this craziness. You’re kinda crazy too, dude. And I’m clearly not in Kansas anymore, so just let me—”
“Shut up!” The young man Accelerated and suddenly a stretcher near the wall flew across the room. It slammed into the opposite wall with a thundering boom and crumpled to the floor, dented in multiple areas.
Scott stopped talking.
“Are you serious?!” the stranger bellowed angrily, walking slowly toward Scott. “You don’t get it, do you? This is just the beginning! It’s gonna get a lot tougher from here on out, so get used to it! Oh, and another thing. You are not going home. What you used to call a normal life has ended, bro. So man the hell up and make the best of the situation. This isn’t about just you anymore . . . it’s about our worlds. They’ve both pretty much turned to complete crap.” He took a breath. “Get yourself changed and meet me outside the door. If you’re gonna be here anyway, then you need to understand a few things.”
As he reached the do
orway, he Decelerated, once again looking like a regular Joe, although one with an attitude. Without turning around, he added sarcastically, “Nick is the name. Welcome to Armadron.”
“Wait!” Scott cried.
“What?”
“What do you mean, it’s about our worlds?”
Nick glared at Scott for a long moment before speaking.
“Terminus says he’s trying to evolve everyone, and that he’s tired of ruling just our failed planet. So when Halley’s Comet comes around in a couple days on our side of the Gateway . . . he’s gonna colonize your planet too.”
Nick left the room.
Scott reached for the clothes at the foot of the bed. He had never dressed so slowly in his life. When he was finished, he saw that his cell phone and Jared’s blue inhaler had been placed beneath the pile of clothes. He picked up the inhaler and stuffed it in his pocket. He tried to turn on the cell phone, but it was dead. Scott grunted and slid the phone in his other pocket. Then he walked silently across the room and through the door.
* * *
Scott was now dressed in dark-green shorts and a light-brown T-shirt. Also, he was wearing a pair of sleek black shoes that were somehow the perfect size for his feet. He noticed that Nick was wearing the same shoes.
“What happened to my old shoes?” Scott asked him.
“When your feet grew because you Accelerated, your shoes were shredded. I’m guessing you didn’t notice because of the adrenaline.”
Scott looked down at his new shoes.
“Why won’t these rip?”
“They expand with your feet,” Nick answered. “Now come out here and take a look at all this.”
Scott took one step and then retreated. Nick turned toward him and looked him in the eye.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
“Where’s Sam? Is she . . . okay?”
“She’s at the place where we are going,” Nick answered, unblinking.
“And where is that?” Scott crossed his arms.
“Where we are about to go.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Who cares?” Nick dodged the statement and walked away from Scott.