by C. C. Ekeke
In that moment, Hugo’s despair retreated. San Miguel needed him. So did Brie. Titan found him worthy of these powers. Now Hugo had to prove that to himself.
“C’mon, Bogota. C’mon…move!” He pushed himself upward. The debris wouldn’t move.
Hugo kept pushing, muscles aching with strain. The debris shifted a little.
Hugo’s elation surged through him. He rose high enough to crouch. Everything trembled, threatening to collapse. Smoke leaked through packed rubble seams. Brie was barely breathing—dying. Hugo clenched his teeth, reaching deeper, pushing his hands under the debris with full arm strength. He rose slowly yet steadily. Tons of unstable debris sent tremors through his knees but wasn’t impossible like he’d believed earlier.
Now completely vertical, Hugo hurled that immense debris away with a shout.
The concrete slabs and generators struck burning remains. Hugo staggered, barely catching himself before toppling over. Sunlight poured down from the ceiling’s Texas-sized hole. Hugo gasped in relief, nearly choking on thick smoke. In front of him, the library burned. Yellow and gold flames hungrily devoured the debris Hugo had just tossed.
He flinched away. “Oh, that.” Hugo could walk through fire unscathed. But not Brie, even at superspeed.
An idea formed after some quick thinking. Something he’d seen Titan do to extinguish fires. And if the Central Coast Saint had done it, Hugo could too. “Here we go.” Spreading his hands wide, he slammed them together.
The clapping shockwave shook the library to its foundations. Hugo heard glass shattering in nearby classrooms, dangling light fixtures falling. He briefly feared he’d made things worse. Then the billowing gusts from the shockwaves washed away the fires dousing the library.
The flames receded into smoldering embers, leaving blackened ruins.
“YES!” Hugo cried triumphantly, fist-pumping.
Feeble moans behind Hugo jarred him out of triumph. He turned. Under a haze of smoke, Brie stirred.
Hugo crouched beside her. “Briseis?” he asked softly. She sagged, still unconscious. “Can you hear me?” As Hugo slid both arms beneath Brie, lifting her from the ground, his gaze wandered to the library’s rear wall. “We’re—” Hugo choked on his words.
A charred corpse stuck to that wall, no doubt blasted back by the bomb detonation. Hugo never knew her name, but he immediately recognized the girl he couldn’t save. His self-congratulations evaporated. He tore his eyes away as tears welled up. With considerable effort, Hugo forced himself to look at the remains.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Fighting back grief, the Samoan stood and adjusted Brie’s posture so her head rested on his shoulder. Hugo then weaved through cloudy, smoldering wreckage.
He stepped out of the library into pandemonium. Screams, fire alarms blaring, sprinklers soaking everyone. Hugo spotted the English Lit classmates he’d saved clustered several yards away while librarians and teachers tended to them. Hugo grimaced seeing those with nasty gashes or other injuries. He hadn’t been as careful when tossing them out of harm’s way. Hugo powerwalked to the group carrying Brie’s limp body. “Help!” he shouted over the fire alarms. “Help her!”
One teacher turned. “Hugo?” Mr. Proctor sounded surprised.
“And Briseis.” Hugo approached his scared classmates, placing Brie on the floor. “She’s hurt. Help her.” The students swarmed them, buzzing with amazement at their survival.
Mr. Proctor crouched beside Hugo, overly coifed hair plastered to his head. “How…how did you and Briseis survive?” he asked shakily.
The librarian ordered the rest of the students to give Brie and Hugo breathing room. Hugo appreciated that, glancing at the library. Curling black smoke poured from the shattered door. “We were in the back,” he explained honestly. “Brie pulled me out of the way. Please help her.”
Mr. Proctor nodded considerately, kneeling to check Brie’s vitals. Nice to see he wasn’t a total asshole.
“I’ll check your vitals,” the hefty female librarian said, reaching for Hugo’s shoulder.
He caught her hand so fast, she yelped. Hugo let go and pointed at Brie. “Her first.” Terrified, the woman promptly did as he ordered.
Hugo moved back while the librarian and Mr. Proctor examined Brie, who started to rouse. His relief was dizzying. Tears fell, lost under sprinkler showers. Soot and grime bled off Hugo’s chiseled frame in dark rivulets.
Other students pestered him about a second explosion that had shattered several windows. Hugo realized they referred to his thunderclap. He bowed his head guiltily. “I think that was the ceiling collapsing.”
Principal Walker soon arrived with the school nurse, both overwhelmed and soaked. The librarian explained what happened. The nurse started examining almost two dozen students huddled in a drenched, hazy hallway.
“It’s a miracle you all survived,” the principal remarked.
Marshal, a lanky Korean boy with shaved hair, nodded. “Felt like I got picked up and thrown.”
Several students voiced similar experiences. Hugo shrank back, not at everyone’s near-identical tales of survival but at those he couldn’t save. “Not everyone escaped."
That hushed the others. “What?” Principal Walker exclaimed. Mr. Proctor and the librarians watched him.
A female student yelped.
“Who else was in there?” another classmate inquired.
Heat flooded Hugo’s face as all eyes studied him. “The bomber…and another female student.”
A chorus of sorrow filled the halls. The nurse gasped but kept checking the students. Mr. Proctor seemed to deflate. Both librarians openly wept. Brie shook from violent coughs, dazed but alive. It was a small mercy.
Principal Walker placed a sympathetic hand on Hugo’s shoulder. Sorrow etched his weathered face. Hugo couldn’t imagine how gut-wrenching this was for him, tasked with leading Paso High and protecting its students. “I’m sorry, son,” Walker said, his voice gravelly.
Hugo nodded, recalling the suicide bomber’s repeated apologies. The fire alarms abruptly stopped, providing some quiet. Hugo listened around campus. Almost everyone else had been evacuated. Good. He breathed easier knowing that. “Wasn’t the bomber's fault.”
“How?” Mr. Proctor demanded, pushing sodden hair from his face.
“Hugo’s right,” one librarian countered. “He said someone made him do it. Can’t remember the name.” She snapped her fingers to try remembering.
“Mister Quiet,” Hugo growled, the name etched into his memory.
Another student perked up as the nurse examined him. “Yeah. Mister Quiet.”
“Is he behind the other bombings?” Marshall added, prompting panicky student discussions.
Principal Walker ended the rampant speculation with a sharp whistle. “The ambulances are on their way.” He raised both hands in a mollifying manner. “We’ll get you kids to safety.”
Once the ambulances arrived, the next few hours were a blur.
Hugo remembered stepping outside and taking in the blasted ruin of the library building. Pillars of smoke curled up into the blue skies. Hugo was surprised how many students got injured, all from library-adjacent classrooms. Some were bloodied. Others had broken limbs. Brie fainted again and was carted away on a gurney. Witnessing all this damage left Hugo seething, unforgiving.
Mister Quiet did this. “I’m gonna find you,” he quietly promised when escorted to an ambulance.
On the ride to San Miguel General Hospital, Hugo had to fight off EMT attempts to examine him. Any slipup could expose him as a super. “My mom’s a nurse,” he explained. “With hospital credentials. I’d rather she examines me.”
The EMTs eventually relented and backed off.
Quinn texted him within half an hour on his superhero cellphone.
Quinn: OMG. Are you okay?
Hugo smiled.
ME: I’m fine. Got my bell rung. At hospital. It was the suicide bombing guy. Calls himself Mister Quiet.
&nbs
p; Hugo speed-texted the name furiously, nearly cracking his cellphone screen.
Quinn: I’ll get whatever info I can on this Mister Quiet and his liger. Glad you’re ok.”
After reaching the hospital, Hugo had spoken with San Miguel PD since he’d seen the bomber. His counselor, Mrs. DeWitt, sat with him in the hospital lobby, which he appreciated. With his clothes trashed, the hospital had provided sweatpants and a hoodie. Hugo stuck to his original story: he and Brie were in the back of the library. A bookshelf protected them from the brunt of the blast. Brie had pulled him back, saving his life. Mostly a lie, but Hugo had improved at strategic falsehoods thanks to his training. “He said Mister Quiet made him do this.” Hugo recalled the boy’s fear before the explosion had…consumed him. Hugo was barely holding back a reservoir of emotion.
Mrs. DeWitt dotingly rubbed his shoulders. By her red eyes, she’d been crying.
“Thank you, Hugo,” the detective stated, a fleshy man in plainclothes with a pockmarked face and short, ash-blond hair. He passed Hugo his card. “I know today’s been rough. But if you recall anything, call me.”
The lobby was packed with students and teachers and parents, making it hard for Hugo to concentrate. He wandered into room 208A, where Brie slept. Silky auburn hair pooled around her perfect face, cleaned with the cut on her cheek bandaged. According to her doctor, Brie had a concussion and bruised ribs but should wake up soon. Hugo sat and watched her sleep, emotions about everything churning within. What would he say when she woke up? And would he have saved Brie if he’d gotten a do-over? Hugo had run that last question through his brain a hundred times. And kept reaching the same choice. What does that even mean?
A buzzing from his regular cellphone saved Hugo from answering.
Marshmallow: Please, please answer.
Hugo smirked, glancing at Brie before texting back.
ME: So we’re talking again?
Marshmallow: THANK GOD!! Are you okay?
ME: Yea. At hospital with Brie. Second Floor.
Marshmallow: We’re coming.
Hugo’s second cell rang, forcing him to slip outside. “Hey,” he replied, phone pressed to his ear.
“Are you hurt?” Ms. Ortiz asked with noticeable concern.
“I’m fine.” Hugo did feel okay now, thanks to his handy healing factor. He gave his mentor a summary of events. “The bomber and another girl…” Hugo’s eyes itched. “I couldn’t save them.”
“Bogie,” Ms. Ortiz replied quietly. “Sometimes you can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try.”
Hugo opened his mouth angrily at her insensitivity. He caught himself, realizing she spoke from experience. “I gotta find this Quiet Man,” Hugo declared, but his conviction wavered. He had no clue where to start. “Him, his liger, and the students he kidnapped.” Three more students who could kill hundreds.
“We will,” Ms. Ortiz stated with confidence. “Talk to Geist’s hacker. Clint can probably find footage from where these kids got kidnapped.”
Immediately, Hugo felt assured. “Thanks.” He caught three familiar footsteps marching around a corridor. “Family’s here.”
When he hung up, Mom, AJ, and Uncle Sione came into view. They beelined for Hugo.
“Hey,” he greeted as casually as possible, embraced in his family’s love. Hugo readily hugged them back.
“Bogota…” Mom exclaimed, arms around his waist.
“Are you hurt?” AJ asked, embracing Hugo from behind. Glancing over his shoulder revealed his brother's pale and worried face.
Hugo shrugged. “Been better.” He’d been waiting for Mom to show up so he could get discharged. The sooner that happened, the sooner Hugo could go find this Mister Quiet motherfucker.
Sione cupped Hugo’s cheek, inspecting him with fatherly warmth. “What happened?”
But with Sione present, Hugo had to recite the false story again.
“Good lord!” Mom sounded sick, leaning on a wall for support.
Sione’s rough-hewn face darkened. “A psycho is kidnapping kids, making them suicide bombers.” He shook his long curls. “Disgusting…”
“I’m sure there’s more to the story.” Hugo gave his little brother a sharp look.
AJ quickly understood. “Can we get food, Uncle?”
The request surprised Sione, but he acquiesced. “Sure, Junior.”
Once they vanished around a corner, Mom turned with an emotionless mask. “What really happened?”
Hugo quietly told her everything, except Brie’s Fall Fling knowledge. Hugo glanced back at her hospital room, shaking his head to clear it. “I couldn’t let Briseis die.”
Mom’s furrowed sadness almost gutted Hugo. “This was Mister Quiet’s fault. Not yours.” She scanned around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. “Can the police handle this?”
Hugo gave a limp shrug. “They still haven’t found this guy or the kidnapped students.” If San Miguel captured Mister Quiet, Hugo welcomed that outcome. Still…he wanted to find this coward first and make that bastard pay!
By Mom’s distasteful reaction, she knew that. “I hate you being in the crosshairs,” she hissed under her breath. “But I understand. Just…”
Hugo kissed her forehead. “Be careful, don’t get exposed. I know…” Just when he thought he couldn’t love Mom more. A shift in breath rhythms and stirring sheets from 208A caught Hugo’s ears. “Brie’s waking up.” He nodded in the room’s direction. “I’m sure seeing you would help until her parents arrive.” Despite his problems with Brie, Hugo knew Mom still adored her.
Mom’s eyes crinkled with effusive pride before heading into Brie’s room. Hugo dialed back his hearing, not wanting to eavesdrop on whatever they might discuss. Now was the time to start searching. Except, Hugo spotted a familiar flock of girls scurrying down this corridor.
Hugo grimaced and moved to intercept. “Jodie,” he called out, spotting the group at the visitor’s desk.
Jordana whirled around. Her eyes widened. “Bogota!” She launched herself at him. “Oh my God! You’re okay.” She looked him over and backpedaled. “OhmiGawd! Did I hurt you?”
Hugo chuckled. “I’m okay.” He got swarmed by J-Tom, Natalie, Spencer, Kendall, and a couple more of Brie’s friends jabbering relief at his wellbeing. Surprisingly, Lia hung back. By her body language, she wanted to be anywhere else.
Hugo waved awkwardly. “Hey, everyone…Oh, hi!”
J-Tom bearhugged him. “Thank god you’re alive,” she exclaimed.
Natalie, Lia, and Kendall followed with hugs, like good lemmings. They all smelled nice. Spencer draped her arms around his neck and embraced him fiercely, surprising everyone. Not Hugo, who gladly returned her affection. She smelled like Gummi Bears.
“Crazy, stupid bastard,” Spencer murmured tartly. Almost a compliment coming from her. “When I heard you were in the library, I…I—”
“Not here. Glad you’re okay, Spence,” Hugo whispered before pulling away. Spencer smiled, cheeks wet with happy tears. From afar, most people assumed her deep-set eyes were dark brown or black. The color was actually dark blue, like bottomless pools. Easy to get lost in.
“Brie’s in 208A,” Hugo addressed the group, knowing their primary worry. “with my mom.”
Jodie paled. J-Tom clapped a hand over her mouth. Lia rolled her eyes.
“Her parents are coming,” Natalie said, wringing her hands. “How bad?”
“Could’ve been worse.”
The girls scurried down the corridor to find their queen. Jodie hung back, looking after her friends and then Hugo with uncertain eyes.
Hugo caressed her cheek. “She’ll want to see you. Go.”
Jordana smiled gratefully before Spencer dragged her away.
Hugo watched them go, knowing what Brie and Jodie reconnecting meant. “It was fun while it lasted.” He ignored the sharp ache in his soul, scanning for his uncle and brother…
“Of course you‘ll have a job at my shop, Junior,” Uncle Sione said somewher
e near the vending machines at the end of this hall.
“Awesome,” AJ exclaimed. “I need money before spring break. Dallas and Alberto are going to Disneyland, and I want to go.”
Sione laughed. “Once the shop opens, we’ll get you in on the real profits. I’ll show you the ropes, and you’ll make more money than you’ll know what to do with.”
Hugo froze, Mister Quiet taking a back seat. Whatever Sione had planned with Mom’s money didn’t sound remotely legal. Now he wanted to involve AJ? Suddenly, Hugo was marching in Sione’s direction, fists clenched, fury boiling beneath the surface. Time for Sione to leave town—
“Hugo!”
He jerked away from the ear-piercing shout. Hugo dialed his hearing down before turning around. “Oh jeez!”
Simon, Brent, Raphael, Grace, Wale, and some other classmates rushed toward him. Everyone jockeying for attention and hugs or badgering Hugo on how he’d survived was overwhelming. Simon’s pointed look said, Details later.
Hugo nodded understandingly.
“We heard the explosion,” Marin Stanley cried.
“And about the students who died,” Karin added.
“Everyone thought you were one of them,” the twins said at once, dragging him into a double hug.
Hugo went cold all over. “Oh.” That must have been horrifying for his friends.
Simon rolled his eyes. “I told everyone you’re fine. They had to see for themselves.”
“I love you for giving a fuck, Bogie. But next time,” Grace demanded, clinging to him as if afraid he’d vanish, “don’t be a hero.”
“We’re just…” Wale got emotional, wiping away tears. “Glad you’re not dead.”
“I’m glad you’re not angry for once,” Hugo quipped, drawing laughs. He bit back impatience, needing to leave. “Guys. I’m fine. I promise.” That wasn’t enough. Hugo studied his friends, seeing relief, sadness, and exhaustion. And fear.
They all looked afraid.
“Part of being a hero isn’t just what you need,” Lady Liberty had said once. “But what the people you’re protecting need.”