by C. C. Ekeke
St. Pierre gave him an odd look. “Who doesn’t? It gave us Titan.”
“I was in Alaska that day,” Greyson blurted out before losing his nerve. “Twenty-five years ago. Dad and I were seven miles from ground zero.”
St. Pierre sat up straight. “How did you survive?”
“Been wondering that for years.” Greyson shrugged. Few had heard this story, and for good reason. As he spoke, years melted away to when Dad’s love wasn’t a foreign concept. “We used to take father/son trips each year since I was five. We’d decide on one place anywhere in the world and then go. When I was nine, I wanted to see the Northern Lights in Alaska.” Greyson remembered a National Geographic special on the Northern Lights he'd obsessed over as a kid. The fond memory made him chuckle. “Dad wanted to see the Mayan pyramids in Mexico. But I was a bratty little shit, and said I wouldn’t go unless we saw the Northern Lights.” God, if only Greyson could go back and slap some sense into that asshole nine-year-old.
“Dad caved to make me happy.” Greyson zoned out on the wall behind his therapist, reliving his first glimpse of the dazzling Aurora Borealis. “It was beautiful…then terrible.”
The thunderous boom came first, followed by a fiery mushroom cloud in the distance. That had drawn everyone’s attention nearby. Greyson flinched, remembering the agony that followed. “We initially thought the nuclear explosion was part of the Northern Lights. Then Dad knew. He picked me up and ran. But there was no way we could outrun that. Dad crouched and shielded me.” The firestorm had washed over them both. Greyson had felt his flesh burn, smelt it. Dad’s screams mingled with his own. They should've died.
“Somehow we survived,” Greyson continued in a shaky and low voice, sounding nothing like him. “Everyone else got vaporized.” A graveyard of countless ash piles had surrounded them, haunting Greyson’s dreams for years. “After we got airlifted back home, doctors quarantined and examined us thoroughly. At first, Dad and I showed no health issues from the blast.
“Then, Dad got sick.” The radiation poisoning had appeared a few months afterward. Both parents had immediately ordered tests for Greyson to make sure he wouldn’t suffer the same fate. But he still showed no medical issues. “I was fine. Things with Dad were okay besides him not being able to travel much.”
Past heartache weighed on Greyson’s chest like an anvil. Thankfully, he remained in control. No need to release. “Then Titan appears and takes the world by storm,” Greyson said with a bitter smile. “I worshiped him. What kid didn’t? I did. Even after his origin became public record.”
Greyson’s smile died. It took him a few minutes to force out this old, barbed memory. “That…that killed my relationship with Dad. He never forgave me for adoring the living representation of his failing health. And the look on his face when I saw his love for me die...” Greyson bowed his head, tears blurring his vision. Saying that out loud felt like getting his back dragged across broken glass. But it was a relief.
St. Pierre’s eyes were sympathetic. “You said at first you both were fine,” the therapist noted. “But only mentioned your dad. What about you?”
Greyson grimaced. “Ah.” Of course he caught that. There was no way to avoid what came next. “Doctor/patient confidentiality, right?”
“Of course,” St. Pierre answered immediately.
Greyson pointed at the therapist’s chair. St. Pierre appeared confused and looked down. He jolted in his seat as if electrocuted.
Greyson lowered the gravity field surrounding that chair, causing it to hover two feet off the ground.
He forced on a mirthless smile and returned the chair’s gravity to normal. “Gravity control. My control's mediocre. But sometimes, when my dad and I get into arguments, I have flareups that get…destructive.” He reclined in his seat and exhaled. When in control, sometimes even small displays exhausted him. “Oh, and I glow during those outbursts. I don’t know how to glow on command. But I can hold it in temporarily. Like fucking bladder control.” Greyson laughed at his own paltry wit.
St. Pierre adjusted his tie and regained composure before speaking. “When did you manifest?”
“On my sixteenth birthday.”
Comprehension filled the therapist’s face. “Is that another cause of your father’s contempt?”
Greyson shook his head. “Only my mom and girlfriend know. But I can’t burden them with this forever.” He held his head and waited while St. Pierre scribbled more notes. Revealing himself to a stranger like some lovesick Twi-hard? Jesus… Greyson felt sick to his stomach.
“First off,” St. Pierre said, “what you’re capable of is no curse. You’ve received gifts in the face of unimaginable tragedy.”
Greyson didn’t believe that but still nodded.
“Second...” The therapist’s eyes gleamed with confidence. “I can one-hundred-percent help you master your gifts so you can lead a more fruitful life.”
Whether it was St. Pierre's confidence or unshakable optimism, Greyson actually believed him. For the first time, he felt hopeful about his situation.
Greyson smiled back, exhausted. But his soul felt unusually light. “I look forward to working on my shit with you,” he said whisper-soft.
Chapter 14
“How ya feeling?” Simon asked, his face illuminated by the iPad he carried.
“Well…” Hugo’s legs quivered, thanks to the Ford Explorer he hoisted overhead. “It’s heavy.”
“Oh, put that down,” Simon said, notetaking on his tablet.
Hugo placed down the SUV, exhausted on his first day of superhero training. They stood in the middle of an abandoned junkyard, surrounded by totaled, disassembled or abandoned cars.
Hugo wore a friction-resistant black tank top and baggy workout pants with speed-adaptable sneakers. Just some of the new clothes Mom had bought based on his new situation.
Where she purchased the attire, Mom merely said, “I know people who know people.”
To gauge Hugo’s strength, Simon had him lift six different-sized cars for five minutes each. Hugo lifted a Mini Cooper with ease. By the time he’d lifted the Explorer, the teen was winded.
“Jesus.” Hugo leaned over, gasping. “Thought I’d be stronger.”
Simon shrugged. “Your body’s adjusting to Titan’s powers. Treat those powers like muscles and strengthen them.”
“Lovely,” Hugo wheezed. He hated working out. Besides gym class, Hugo had had little physical activity since Dad died. “Now what?”
Simon’s eyes twinkled. “AJ and I can create a strength-training plan.”
Made sense. Working out became AJ’s outlet after Dad died. “And my speed?” Hugo asked.
Simon snorted. “I loathe Blur, but his speed workouts on YouTube are good, so I copied them. Let’s see your base velocity.”
They drove to the old Liberty High location, devastated by the 1987 earthquake.
Hugo raced around the track for fifteen minutes, his takeoff accidentally bowling Simon on his ass. He had a thirteen-second mile. “HA!” Hugo fist-pumped. “Awesome.”
Simon grimaced. “Titan’s mile was under four seconds.”
Hugo stopped smiling. “Not awesome.”
Every morning was strength training. Hugo raced back and forth across the scrapheap holding cars overhead. Then came squat-pressing various cars from lightest to heaviest for fifteen sets. He finished with “Hulk leaps,” jumping straight up several times until his legs were jelly. God, he hated those.
After the workouts, Hugo performed pressure tests, pushing cars and tapping car windows at normal strength. “This should help you not kill someone by poking them.”
Evenings they worked on speed, racing around the abandoned high school track several times within a set time. AJ’s routines were the extent of his contribution. He enjoyed sleeping in.
The first few days, Hugo was discouraged by his lacking stamina and strength. Every pressure test ended in him severely denting the cars and shattering the windows, using what he once
considered light taps.
After two-and-a-half weeks, Hugo started excelling under Simon’s aggressive regimen. The exercises gave him a routine besides staying home watching continuous Titan footage. Filling Titan’s shoes was too important to fail.
Mom put Hugo on a special diet to accommodate his ludicrous appetite, helping a ton after each grueling day. He sensed his mother was more freaked by his transformation than she let on. But as usual, Mom soldiered ahead and kept offering encouragement.
Hugo wasn’t half as winded after strength workouts, even when pressing Suburbans. The pressure tests finally paid off the morning after Hugo tapped three windows without cracking any. He raced home straightaway, caught Mom leaving for work and embraced her. Many joyful tears followed.
Thanks to the speed workouts, Hugo brought his mile to seven seconds. Simon responded by pushing Hugo to race through Greater San Miguel within set times.
He blew through each time in short order. But Hugo knew he had a long way to go and kept pushing his limits.
Hugo and Simon only stayed home the day of Titan’s funeral to watch it live. Also, so many superheroes worldwide in San Miguel presented a huge exposure risk.
And what an epic event this funeral was. Attendees and mourners couldn't fit inside St. Augustine Church. Hordes of fans swarmed for photos of their favorite icons, causing insane traffic in downtown San Miguel. Countless superheroes arrived in costume, creating quite a visual spectacle. A pantheon of modern-day gods. Hugo spotted the Pack from the Southwest, the UK-based Champions, and every living Vanguard member past and present. Even December, a reclusive hero from Vanguard’s “Sensational Seven” era, appeared. Stars & Stripes, a trio of retired corporate sponsored heroes, attended. Missy Magnificent, former Extreme Teens leader, arrived fresh from rehab with Z-list beau Montgomery Major. She sat with her old team, not making a scene. Missy had ballooned, in Hugo’s opinion.
The service itself was moving, especially Rupert Champion and Lady Liberty’s speeches. The San Miguel mayor and California governor both spoke. Every speech highlighted Titan’s resolve, empathy, and insatiable need to protect innocents. The standout was Justice Jones’s speech. The six-foot-seven biker, muscular arms sleeved in fearsome tattoos, had been an enforcer for an outlaw motorcycle gang. Then Titan kicked his ass during a botched burglary. After three years in prison, Jones had spent the last decade driving cross-country helping those in need. Thanks to Titan. Hugo felt numb watching the service. Brie and Simon were as surprised as Hugo by his absent grief. It was troubling. Maybe because he’d exhausted his emotions grieving for Dad. Or because he now possessed Titan’s abilities. Hugo found one thing sadder than anything. Aside from celebrities, politicians, humanitarians, and other superheroes, Titan had no biological family. They died decades ago, Hugo realized somberly.
Days before, Hugo had watched Lady Liberty and Justice Jones thrash Lord Borealis at his home. That murderer getting his ass kicked had been so satisfying, he and AJ re-watched ten times.
Tonight, a month since training started, Hugo sat at the old Liberty High track. Dressed in boardshorts and a tank top, hair up in a ponytail, he scarfed down a fourth Beach Bum Double Trouble Cheeseburger. Simon had driven off fifteen minutes earlier, but Hugo wanted to sit and veg.
He closed his eyes, soaking in the nocturnal symphony. Fauna going about their nightly routines and vineyard owners prepping for tomorrow. After some testing, Hugo guesstimated his hearing reached a three-mile radius. He and Simon should work on this next.
Hugo leaned back, feeling insanely powerful. His mind raced over what the future held. He tossed his burger wrappers in the garbage, prepping to superspeed home. Hugo pulled out his phone to stopwatch the trek right as it buzzed.
The caller ID instantaneously improved his evening. “What’s up!” Hugo answered, beaming.
“Asshole,” Briseis snarled.
“Whoa—wait!” Hugo’s cheer gave way to surprise. “What did I do?”
“You’re not in San Miguel!” Brie snapped, sounding tipsy. “Why not?”
Her fury left Hugo speechless. He’d told Brie a month ago he was in Hawaii visiting family. Hugo hated not seeing her but hated lying more. Which I’ll need to do as a superhero. But Mom was right about gaining more control before seeing Brie again. “In Maui for the summer, remember?”
“I know what you said!” Brie barked.
Hugo was confused. Usually, Brie got angry when he called too much. They’d spoken via phone and text since summer began. But Hugo had been so busy training, Brie was calling or texting him. Clearly, she felt neglected.
Hugo’s hearing picked up sounds from a party, booming music and a massive crackling fire in the background. The crashing frothy waves told Hugo that Brie was near a coastline. The cool kids are having a beach bonfire, he fumed. Normal teenagers did that in the summer. Meanwhile, Hugo had become a shut-in, training for greatness still out of sight. Hugo could hear Brie suck on something coupled with a burning crackle. He glowered. She’s smoking. One of few things Hugo disliked about her.
“When are you back?” Brie’s demand was hoarse and trembling.
“A month.”
“Why so long?” Brie pressed with surprising need.
Hugo barely curbed his glee. “Breezy, what’s wrong? Don’t say ‘nothing,’” he added as she said “nothing.”
There was a long pause, filled by shrieking teens and crashing waves. “We barely talk on the phone,” Brie confessed in a throaty rush. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Dad’s away on business so much. Mumu’s her usual awful self. I just…I miss you.”
Affection scorched Hugo’s veins. He assumed Brie would be busy enjoying her summer. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. “Miss you too, Brie,” Hugo said softly. “Where are you now?”
Animated screams belted out during what sounded like a beer-chugging contest.
Brie took another drag of her cigarette. “Some stupid basketball bonfire with Baz’s bro-friends,” she complained. “And their rah-rah hoop rats.”
Baz Martinez. Anger blossomed inside Hugo. He knew Brie and Baz were sort of friends from running in the same social circles. But why was Brie attending that asshole’s bonfire? “Which beach?” he probed.
“Hearst State…Beach.” Brie sounded surprised. “How’d you know I’m at a beach?”
Hugo grimaced, forgetting how observant Brie was. “Heard waves in the background,” he replied hastily.
“Right. Duh,” Brie stated. “Good ear.”
You have no idea. Hugo changed the subject. “Not enjoying the bonfire?”
“I don’t know anyone that well beside Baz and his jerk-boys. He’s too busy sucking off his teammates. And Easy Abby's here, stalking her next chew toy!” Brie fumed, referring to her archrival from school. “The person I want to see is on a fucking island.”
Hugo was lost, still bothered by Brie’s proximity to Baz. “Who's that?”
“You, dumbass!” The eye roll in her reply was deafening.
Hugo facepalmed at his slowness. “Right! Just checking.” He needed to see her. Screw the risks. “Hang on real quick?” Hugo put Brie on hold, pocketed his cellphone, and dashed from the track field in a cloud of dust. He zigzagged through vineyards, residential neighborhoods, and canyons before reaching the PCH. After sprinting north, the Hearst State Beach off-ramp soon appeared.
Hugo skidded to a halt in the middle of Hearst Beach’s unlit pier, far from any beach visitors.
He cursed the coastal breeze whipping his long curls everywhere. Racing over must’ve loosened the rubber band holding his hair back. Hugo spotted a gathering half a mile south, dancing and drinking around a small bonfire glowing across the beach. Ambling from the gathering was a tall, slim shadow with windswept curls. She pressed a cellphone to her ear, holding a cigarette in another hand. To Hugo, she looked more like ten feet away instead of half a mile. That telescopic vision along with 80/20 eyesight was unnerving. Titan had telescopic vision too. Another super
power to master.
Hugo focused on Brie and gasped. Even with distance and darkness, Brie’s radiance was profound. Hugo drank in her slender figure in a green bikini top, unzipped navy-blue hoodie, plus a short white and gold flowery skirt. Her green eyes sparkled against the bonfire's blaze, caramel complexion perfectly sun-kissed. God, Hugo had forgotten how sexy she looked with naturally wavy hair.
Brie’s crazy-beautiful face grew impatient while waiting.
He crouched behind the pier’s railings to avoid detection. “Back.” Hugo resumed the call while peeking through the guardrail. “Sorry for the wait.”
“No worries, Bogie.” She looked as happy as she sounded.
“I’ll see you when I’m back, Brie. It’ll be excellent.” Hugo could already see her reaction when they reunited. She’d never feel embarrassed by him again.
“Okay.” Brie flicked her cigarette stub onto the sand and looked to the skies. “Where are you?” She exhaled wearily.
Hugo’s heart thudded so loud, he worried she’d hear it half a mile away. “I’m here, Briseis,” he whispered, dazed by how intensely he loved her. “Right here.”
Brie stopped to face the ocean, closing her eyes and inhaling. Is she picturing me?
Hugo watched Briseis, aching to kiss her. Hold her. Instead, Hugo could only admire the girl of his dreams from afar, listening to her breaths and heartbeat.
“Still there, beautiful?” A smile split Hugo's face.
“Always.” Brie sounded drunk, but not off alcohol.
They talked and flirted a while longer, Brie’s adorable snort-giggle making several appearances. Her heart raced crazily in Hugo’s ear. She was even twisting locks of hair around her finger like girls do when attracted to someone. Brie also teased Hugo for his deeper voice. He replied by speaking with a Barry White-low bass. A few days ago, Hugo had discovered he could go lower or higher on a whim.