HSH: Hero's Burden Chap 1-2
Hey all,
So, we have a new chapter in the High School Heroes’ saga for you. See what happens next to Christine and her friends as we begin Book 4: Hero’s Burden!
Prologue
6 Weeks From Now
The biggest problem with being able to do the impossible is you get used to it. Then one day, the impossible becomes impossible even for you.
How could it be possible? Ahead of me was a whole city tearing itself apart and behind me a massive army ready to strike at any moment. Even my mind working at a hundred thoughts a second couldn’t fathom a solution.
I’d been to hell and back over the last—I still didn’t know how much time had passed. I’d fought my way back from the Underworld, only to find that everyone I knew and cared for was in terrible danger.
To add to it all, there was the possibility I’d have to kill my grandfather. How could I do that?
Impossible, the voice in my head said.
Nothing’s impossible, I responded.
If I could fly, and read the thoughts of anyone at anytime, then I could surely come up with something that wouldn’t get myself and everyone else killed—or worse.
Improbable, the voice amended.
Now that I can agree with.
The city lights were just ahead of me, burning brightly in the otherwise dark night. Actually, from the images I’d seen, I was surprised there was any power left whatsoever. It didn’t matter. In a few minutes, I’d have to make a decision one way or the other. Do I go in with guns blazing? Or do I try for something more tactful?
I didn’t need the voice to say anything. We both knew what I was going to do. Tactics weren’t exactly my strong suit. This was going to be an all-out brawl, a mental one as well as a physical one. But did I have the courage to stand up to him and to do what needed to be done?
Impossible.
My heart beat against my rib-cage, threatening to break through. I found flight path inadvertently slowing and veering away from the city. I couldn’t do this. He was the one person I couldn’t fight.
But I couldn’t let him do this either. He was a madman—a psychopath, and he had to be stopped. And as it usually happens, because I’m just that lucky, I was the only person on the planet who had a prayer in stopping him.
Impossible. This time I couldn’t tell if the thought was from the voice, or if it was my own.
Chapter 1
October—Junior Year
Stopping a Train
I didn’t even make it to school this morning. At 6 a.m., just before I jumped in the shower, the sirens sounded. The news said it was a train derailment, but from the smoke I could see, even at this distance, the situation was far worse than they believed.
After a quick text message to my boyfriend, I was in my uniform and out my window within seconds. It was so much easier not having to go out the front door. There would be all sorts of questions from my parents:
“Where are you going?” my mom would ask.
“Don’t you have school?” my dad would add.
No, it was far easier to fly right out my window and not have to confront them at all. It had been such a pain since they discovered I’d had my powers—stupid Italian news reporters, plastering my face all over the place. It’s strange to think about, but hiding my powers from my parents was actually more convenient than being open with them.
The plume of smoke rose higher into the air and grew larger with each passing second. There was no way this was just some simple derailment. Something had to have happened to that train.
The train was on the Blue Line, just south of South Hills Junction, heading into Pittsburgh when the “accident” occurred. I emphasize accident, because the closer I came to the scene, the more I doubted the press.
Through the smoke and the early morning haze, I could see mangled, metal shells that used to be train cars. The smoke was coming from near the center of the train, where no engine or anything should have been. I cursed, thinking about all those people I knew I wouldn’t be able to save.
A trail of dust was kicked up beneath me as Ethan, no doubt pulling Savanah and Klaus behind him, raced onto the scene.
Try and find survivors, I projected to the trio.
Already on it, Ethan responded.
The cars of the train had rolled over and were disconnected in all directions. South Hills Junction was where all the train lines on the red and blue merged. So there were lots of different tracks, criss-crossing and the train was pretty blocking them all.
As I said before, it couldn’t have been an accident. The smoke smelled of something odd, but nothing I could identify yet.
I swooped in above one of the cars, well away from the center. Ethan was busily speeding in and out of cars, picking up whoever he could find and depositing them on the ground outside. Savanah ripped the sides off one car like she was tearing through a piece of tinfoil. Then she and Klaus ran in to check for survivors.
The railcar I came to lay on its side. Inside were a few dazed and panicked people pounding on the windows, trying desperately to break free. Using my mind, I pried open the doors, and lowered myself inside. There were several people in the car, most of them unconscious—or dead. I couldn’t tell at the moment. No matter what, I’d have to get them all out. There were five people still alert, and they all looked at me as if I was some guardian angel.
The analogy wasn’t far from the truth. The papers had dubbed me Black Angel, since I always showed up to rescue people and because I wore all black all the time.
“Come on!” I shouted at all of them.
I motioned for them to come toward me. They complied, stepping gingerly through the bodies laying across the bottom of the car. Then, one by one, I lifted the five of them up and out of the door and then lowered them to the ground outside. Then I concentrated on the rest of the people in the car.
I didn’t have time to worry whether they were alive or dead. I just took them one at a time and floated them carefully out of the train and laid them a safe distance away in the dirt.
Once the car was empty, I moved onto the next.
How’s it going? I asked my friends.
No immediate reply came, which wasn’t surprising, considering what everyone was doing. I got an optimistic sense from them, though, despite this horrible tragedy.
No one was alert in the next car I came to, but I did see several bodies on the floor. Like the first car, I simply lifted them all out one at a time and moved out. The paramedics could sort through who was alive and dead when they arrived.
Speaking of which, I wondered, where are they?
If we had enough time to make it up here, surely we should have seen one police cruiser, fire engine or ambulance by now.
A shock ran through my body. It came from Ethan from somewhere within the train. I tried to pinpoint him and found him very close to the center where all the smoke was coming from.
I was already in the air. Whatever he saw, the shock was enough for me to sense it. Which meant it had to be something big.
What’s the matter?
This was no accident, Ethan’s reply came.
Yeah, I figured that out already, I responded.
He ran out of the smoking car just before I made it to him. He jumped into the air and wrapped his arms around me. I hadn’t expected that, and his extra weight threw me off balance and we both tumbled to the ground.
“What was that all about?”
He got to his feet and dusted his black uniform off. Then Ethan looked at me and even behind the mask it was apparent he had a great deal of fear and pain in his eyes. “I don’t think you should go in there.”
“Why not?” I tried to push passed him, but he blocked my path.
“Just trust me for once. Okay?”
I sighed. I did trust him. There was no one else in my life I trusted more than Ethan. I used to say the same about my grandfather, but after his arrest I wasn’t sure anymore.
“Can you at least tell me what you saw?” Yeah, I could have just fished the information from his skull, but I promised I wouldn’t do that to my friends ever again. It was a gross invasion of privacy, after all.
Ethan glanced over his shoulder at the wreckage he’d come out of. He smacked his gloved hands together and rubbed them nervously before turning back in my direction.
“I think it was a suicide bomber.”
“What?” I pushed him out of the way, but he got right back in front of me.
“No, Chris,” he said. “It’s not a pretty picture in there. Body parts and blood all over… everything. And the bodies that are recognizable are broken.”
I stopped. Ethan was right. I didn’t want to go in there. He knew what I would see if I did. Just thinking about how he described them—broken—brought images to my head that I didn’t want in there—Peter. If I could mind-wipe myself, I would take those images out and toss them into the wind.
But the more I thought about what he said, that it was a suicide bomber, the less sense it made. Why would terrorists target a commuter train when there was only a small number of people on it? An hour later and the trains would have been packed to the gills with people. The explanation didn’t add up.
Are you two gonna help us out or what? came Savanah’s snide voice in my head.
Coming, I responded.
“Back to work,” I told Ethan.
He blew me a kiss and then disappeared with a rush of wind, and I took off into the skies again. Now the faint sounds of sirens wailed in the distance. Better late than never, I guess.
High above, making a good deal of noise and stirring up the plume of smoke were the chopper blades of a news-copter. Hate was too soft a word for how I felt about them. Nine times out of ten, they would just get in our way, and all they were interested in was getting the scoop over the other networks. It made me sick. Here we were putting our own lives at risk to help others, and they circled like vultures just waiting for another tragedy to strike.
CRACK!
A window broke free of its frame and a lone hand stuck out through the new opening. I looked over to see Savanah jump up through the open window and then reach back inside to help out a rather tall man. His business suit was all wrinkled and torn in a couple places, but he didn’t look like he was injured terribly. She reached in for someone else as I passed over and went to the next car.
The cleanup would take forever. One thing was for certain—there wouldn’t be any commuter trains passing through South Hills Junction today.
We’d pulled at least fifty people from the wreckage before EMS and the fire department showed up. Once they arrived on the scene our work progressed much faster. After a couple of months of us popping up unexpectedly at fires, explosions and other disasters, the firemen were used to having us around. Captain Lopez was on the scene today and I told him what happened.
“We suspect it was an attack rather than an accident,” I explained, floating about five feet above him. “Either way, there was an explosion in that center car that caused all this. It’s kinda gruesome in there.”
“Thanks, Black Angel,” he said. I don’t think I will ever get used to someone calling me by my “hero” name. “Now let us take it from here.”
We’d gotten out all the survivors we could. So, it was time to turn this over to the people actually paid to do this sort of thing. I called to everyone and we pulled back while they did their jobs. We’d done a good job here today. The only thing that concerned me was that if this was a terrorist attack, what was its purpose?
I landed on the fringes, near the fire trucks, and almost immediately was attacked. It wasn’t by some mugger or a demented science teacher bent on world domination—no, I was attacked by a group of reporters.
“Ms. Angel, Ms. Angel, what happened here?”
“Can you confirm that this was a terrorist attack?”
“Where were the engineers when all this was going on?”
“Was this a police training exercise?
“What is your real name?”
“Are you secretly having Ashton Kutcher’s love child?”
It was bad enough trying to keep all their jumbled thoughts out of my head. Trying to make sense of all their questions was even worse. Like I said before, these people are vultures and should be treated as such. However, there was that whole hero image to uphold, so beating one of them within an inch of their life was just not an option.
I held up my hands and silenced the crowd, sending them all the simple suggestion that if they didn’t shut up something very, very bad would happen to them—what that bad thing was, I don’t know, it would have been different for each and every one of them.
“Come on now, people,” I said in a loud enough voice. “You know I can’t answer you all at once.”
By this time, Ethan, Savanah and Klaus were all behind me. How I got elected to be the team’s voice was way beyond me. I hated public speaking and every time I did it, I felt like I was going to throw up. Already the butterflies were threatening to fly away with my stomach.
“Now, one at a time.”
A bunch of hands rose at once. I picked the first one I saw. She held a microphone to her lips which read “WPXI” on the side. “Can you tell us what happened here?” She shoved the microphone in my face.
“I don’t have enough information to tell you anything more than the train has crashed and that we do have some casualties.” I’d learned never to give my opinion on something without having concrete facts. The last time I did that, I started a panic which forced Pittsburgh to evacuate and all I’d said was something about an “epidemic” growing in the city. So, I promised from now on when dealing with the press I’d say as little as possible.
More hands went up and I pointed to another—a gentleman in a polo shirt with a Pittsburgh Post-Gazette badge hanging from his collar. He held a small digital voice recorder to his mouth as he asked his question. “Has anyone been blamed for this yet?”
I said, “No,” even before he pushed the recorder toward me. Then I immediately went to the next person. “You.” I pointed at an overeager man at the back of the crowd who was practically trying to jump over the others.
The man looked like he couldn’t have been happier. He pushed through to the front of the crowd and held out a business card for me to take. “I’d like to talk to you about endorsing my company’s products.”
“Me too!” said another man, also brandishing a card.
Quickly, it was like the sea of reporters had vanished, and now I was surrounded by a crowd of businessmen.
“Our car insurance is the best.”
“We’ll pay you $10,000 per commercial.”
“All you have to do is wear this patch on your costume.”
It was too much. I was beginning to lose control. These people needed to back off. If they didn’t, bad things really would happen. I didn’t want to hurt them, but I would quickly lose control of my powers and show everyone their worst fears.
“Get away!” I shouted.
But they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t listen. They didn’t care. All they cared about was their exclusive interview, or me endorsing their perfume, or getting me to fly over an event.
The darkness began to fill the edges of my vision. It wouldn’t be long before I totally lost control of my powers.
I wanted to bash these guys’ skulls in. Wear an emblem on my uniform? Do commercials? What the hell did they think I was? A gecko? A talking tiger? A little doughboy who laughs when someone tickles its stomach? I wasn’t going to be some mascot for these idiots.
But they were persistent and continued to press in upon me.
“We’re offering you a million-dollar contract.”
“Everyone needs to make money. You can’t be selfless forever.”
“Ever consider being a movie star?”
I had to get out of there. The way they were coming at me like this it was almost like I was being attacked. I knew they weren’t intending to harm me, but they were overloading my senses and causing my mind to go into panic-mode. I don’t like crowds, and now, I was backed against a fire engine with a mass of people pressing in on me like a tsunami.
Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate long enough to fly up and above the crowd. My feet left the ground, though my flight path was a little shaky. It would improve as I got out of the throng of reporters and businessmen.
The thought of vultures circling around its prey, waiting for it to die, raced through my mind again. They really were too. How much publicity would those businesses get if I endorsed their product and I died saving a bus of old ladies, or rescuing children from an orphanage fire? How many newspapers would they sell with my battered and broken dead body on the cover? All they saw when they saw me was dollar signs and it made me sick.
I made it about three feet in the air when an arm shot up and grabbed my leg.
“Wait. You haven’t given me an answer yet.”
“Get off her!”
Ethan pushed the guy away and he let go of my leg, but another arm came up and grabbed at the black fabric of my uniform. I kicked this hand away, but several more shot up. I felt like Hercules, fighting the hydra. Every time he would cut off one head, two more would grow in its place. Only instead of heads, it was arms. They were pulling me back down.
My breathing was growing heavy, and blackness filled the edges of my vision. Panic had now completely taken over now, and when that happened, I lost control of my powers.
Savanah, Klaus and Ethan all tried to get the people off me. With their powers, they would easily have pulled them away. But that would have involved hurting those people. If Savanah used even a fraction of her strength, she could break every bone in one of the reporter’s bodies.
I struggled, flailed, kicked and yelled. I did anything I could to get away, but nothing seemed to stop the people from dragging me back into their midst.
Then the wind picked up. It had been a calm morning, but suddenly, there was a gust that had to be near forty miles an hour. The suddenness of it made me tumble slightly, knocking into a couple of my assailants.
The wind-speed increased even more. Even in my panic, I wondered what was causing this sudden surge or air. The only thing obscuring the sky was the ever-lessening column of black smoke. Otherwise, it was sunny. No. The wind was unnatural.
The people on the ground were pushed back. Their fingers struggled to hold onto me, but eventually failed as they were literally sucked away. I landed and anchored myself to the ground as the wind continued to pummel my body with its gusts. I managed to gaze over and see the source of the wind. What I saw astonished me.
Ethan stood near the fire engine, his arms extended, body spinning at a furious pace. He was nothing but a spinning blur. He was moving so fast, he was creating a mini-tornado around him that pushed everyone away. I never knew he could do anything like that, but I supposed it made sense, since he could move so fast.
He slowed his body down after a few more seconds, and the wind instantly ceased. Ethan’s skin had a slightly green tint to it, and his body heaved several times like he wanted to throw up, and it was only his willpower preventing it from doing so.
With the wind gone, the reporters and businessmen were recovering from the shock. They began to realize that one of us had caused the sudden wind that had blown them all back. Some looked afraid, others angry. Either way, it served them right.
A hand clasped my arm and started dragging me away. My first reaction was to pull away and possibly smack the person who decided to grab at me again. But when I saw it was Klaus who was now dragging me, I didn’t fight. He brought me over to Ethan, who looked a little less sick than he had a few seconds ago, but still appeared like he was going to spew at any given second.
“Get her out of here,” he said in his heavy German accent. “Vee vill take care of them.”
Ethan gave the boy a dirty look, like just having his hand around my wrist was some horrible violation. But he nodded, then took hold of me and sped off.
The last thing I saw before Ethan and I slipped away was the mob once again converging on Savanah and Klaus.
Chapter 2
Stolen
Ethan placed me on the ground outside the gym. We kept a spare set of clothes in the locker room in case we had to run off for some disaster—which happened more often than not. So, we’d have to run in and get changed, hopefully without being caught by Mr. Philmore or some other teacher. Looking at my watch, I saw we’d missed most of first period already, but at least the halls should be pretty empty as most teachers would be in their classes.
A whistle blew. It caught my attention and I quickly looked across the field to see Coach Green’s class playing soccer.
“Thanks,” I said. Then I gave my boyfriend a grateful kiss.
“You’re welcome.”
“You don’t have to be jealous of Klaus,” I told him. “He’s just a friend.” I didn’t tell him about how we’d shared two kisses in Rome, and I probably never would. That had been nearly two months ago and the more time that passed between our kiss, the more it seemed like it meant nothing—for me at least.
“I know,” Ethan said. “I just don’t trust him, that’s all.”
I rolled my eyes. He was cute when he was jealous. Then I kissed him again.
When I pulled away this time, I thought about what Ethan had done to get me out of there. “How did you know you could do that tornado thing?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. I saw it in a Flash comic once.”
I arched an eyebrow in his direction.
“Okay. More than once.”
“Well, I’m glad it worked. I hate those evil creatures.” I shuddered, thinking of what might have happened if Ethan hadn’t rescued me. “I can’t stand having to deal with them all the time. It was so much better when we were a secret.”
“Yeah, today was a little intense,” he admitted. “But this is what a hero does.”
“Corporate sponsorship is what a hero does?” My eyebrow was arched so high at this point, I was sure my hair was hiding it.
He smiled—he had the greatest smile. “Well, not that part, I guess.” Then he rubbed the back of his head and let out a long sigh. “At least, not all heroes do. There’s a couple that do it for the money, and yeah, they wear logos and everything.”
“You’re such a geek.” I pulled at his arm, laughing. “C’mon, let’s get inside before we both get caught out here in these stupid costumes.”
“You go in. I’m going to go back and grab Savanah and Klaus.” He stepped back, pulling his arm out of my grip. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. And I’ll see you at lunch.”
Before I could mount any kind of response, my boyfriend was gone. Another slight gust of wind followed him as he ran off.
Ethan ran in one direction, and I went in the other. Opening the heavy door’s leading into the locker room, I checked to make sure the coast was clear before stepping inside. The last thing I needed was someone catching me in my outfit trying to sneak into the school.
It would, however, be interesting to see if they actually believed I was the Black Angel or if they’d think I was just some idiot dressing up as some kind of hero worship.
As dense as Mr. Philmore could be sometimes, I was inclined to believe the second option. However, I wasn’t willing to put the theory to the test.
I made it into the locker room without any problems, and managed to get out of my uniform and shove it into the locker just as the other girls came in, peeling off their own gym uniforms. I started dressing, mingling with the class as if I belonged there. It was the perfect cover, as long as no one noticed.
“What are you doing here?” came a familiar voice.
Of course someone would notice, and of course that someone would be her.
Samantha Diddle, head cheerleader, Sam’s girlfriend and bane of my existence. She stood before the locker right next to mine in only a pink bra and matching underwear. While embarrassment caused me to pull my clothes on as quickly as possible, she didn’t seem to mind standing in full view of everyone half-naked.
I shushed the girl. “Don’t draw attention to me.”
“But you don’t even have this class.” An evil grin spread across her face.
“Shut up,” I whispered. She knew very well what my being here meant. She was just trying to torture me like she always did.
Even though I hated to admit it, Samantha was one of only a handful of people who knew who I was and what I could do. Despite being a horrible human being, she had proven to be trustworthy when it came to my abilities. She could have outed me and my friends at any moment, but her mouth always remained shut. I don’t know if it was loyalty to Sam, or fear of my wrath that kept her in line—maybe a little of both.
“What happened this morning?” she asked, her face growing serious.
“Did you turn on the news?” I asked her.
She shook her head. That figured. Samantha watching the news was about as likely as her reading a book.
I rolled my eyes. “Someone set off a bomb on a commuter train this morning.” I then explained everything that happened, and my theories behind it, since I didn’t have to worry about the press misconstruing my words.
“Sam didn’t go with you, did he?”
“Does he ever?” Sam didn’t have any superpowers, and though he’d helped out on a couple of our adventures, he really couldn’t keep up with the rest of us. My friend Tiffany was in the same boat. So the two of them usually stayed behind, sometimes running interference with teachers or parents, or watching Conner, my baby brother, if I needed them to.
A wave of relief rolled off the girl. Her precious boyfriend wasn’t hurt, and that’s all she really cared about. She was so self-centered sometimes it really drove me crazy.
“But there were plenty of bodies around. And plenty more people were hurt. The guy who had the bomb strapped to him was in pieces all over one of the railcars.”
Samantha stood there, holding her shirt over her arm, as she stared at me in disbelief. “That’s horrible. No one said anything about it.”
“I’m okay, by the way,” I explained with a little venom in my voice. “And would you put some clothes on already?”
As if realizing she was still nearly naked, she slid her shirt over her shoulder, then grabbed her skirt from her locker.
I slammed my locker shut, hiding away my hero costume. With it safely locked away, I felt much safer. It sucked that I’d have to come back and grab it later before I went home. I’d have to talk to Abby about getting us some spare uniforms.
“Look, just don’t tell anyone I was in here. Okay?”
Samantha, who was now fully dressed—thankfully—simply nodded her head.
“I’ll see you later. And thanks.”
I ran out of the locker room just as the bell rang. It was second period, so I’d have to get to math class. The halls filled quickly and I got nervous, but this wasn’t anything new to me. This wasn’t at all like being mobbed by a hundred over-eager reporters and businessmen like a little while ago.
Morning classes were boring, but I made sure to take good notes, and I did all my assignments. I was determined not to fall behind like I had last year, and with all the school time I’d missed so far this year—and it was still only September—I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up for long.
I just hoped I didn’t fail anything this year.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted. Thankfully, my friends had made it back from the train wreck and they all looked relatively unscathed.
“So, was it really terrorists?” Tiffany asked before bringing her school-cafeteria burger up to her lips.
“We don’t know,” I admitted. “It looks that way though.”
“Yeah, it was terrorists,” Savanah said. “The guy’s guts were plastered over every inch of that train car. Anyone who thinks it wasn’t a terrorist attack is an idiot.”
“But why Pittsburgh?” Sam chimed in. “Why not go after a major city like New York, Washington D.C. or someplace like that? Blowing up one train outside of Pittsburgh doesn’t make any logical sense.”
“Maybe it’s a distraction,” Ethan responded. He’d already eaten a burger and was starting on a slice of pizza. “It’s like when Lex Luthor is trying to do something big. He needs to get Superman out of the way so he won’t stop him.”
“Ethan,” I sighed. “People don’t think the way they do in comic books. No one is trying to distract us. And if it was a distraction, then why would they blow themselves up?”
“Maybe he was blown up against his will. Whoever wanted that train blown up might have strapped the bomb to him and told him to get on the train or they’d kill his whole family.”
Savanah made a disgusted grunt. “Why does it have to be a guy? The person who exploded could have been a woman, you know.”
“Fine. He or she.”
I still didn’t believe it, but it was another theory to go on.
“Could it have been Smith?” Tiffany asked. “Or Quinn?”
“Definitely not Smith. The guy is insane, but he believes he’s looking out for the best interests of all Americans,” I said.
But as the words came out of my mouth, I thought about it. Smith had implanted me with tiny bombs against my will. He’d tricked me into believing they were simple tracking devices. He could have fooled someone else into allowing them to be injected with the tiny devices, and then blown them up at the most opportune moment.
“Then Quinn?” Tiffany asked.
Again I was forced to shake my head. This didn’t seem like something Quinn would do either. If he wanted us distracted, he didn’t need to blow up a train to do it. Besides, for Quinn, I was the only one he needed to distract. He could simply control all the others. All he’d have to do then would be to go after my parents, my brother… my grandfather.
I shuddered at the thought of my grandfather. I tried to think of him as little as possible these days. I didn’t know what to think of him anymore. He’d been arrested for the murder of Savanah’s grandparents and he hadn’t resisted. They said they found his DNA at the scene, and he didn’t argue. Since I came back from Rome I’d been torn between wanting to believe he was innocent, but not able to because of the evidence.
Klaus must have sensed the change in my mood, but came to the wrong conclusion about it. “Vee couldn’t zave them all.”
I nodded. “I know, Klaus.”
I pushed the thoughts of my grandfather out of my mind, and by the end of lunch I was back to my normal self. The rest of the day flew by, and soon I found myself heading back into the locker room to grab my “personal items” and head home. There’d be no after-school training with Abby for me today. I had to go home and watch Conner.
I drove home—my only moment of peace. Other than flying high above the clouds, my car was pretty much the only place I didn’t have to concentrate hard to block out people’s thoughts.
When I got home, all I wanted to do was collapse on my bed and fall asleep. But as it turned out, fate still wouldn’t allow me a moment’s rest.
“Christine? Is that you?” my mother called from the kitchen.
I groaned, throwing my book bag, which contained not only my school books, but also my costume. I really didn’t need this right now. “Yeah, Mom.”
“Come here for a second.”
Oh, I knew that tone of voice all too well. She was excited about something, and that something couldn’t be good for me. I think I would rather have her sound upset. At least that was she’d probably send me to my room—which is where I wanted to go in the first place.
“What is it, Mom?” I asked as I trudged into the kitchen.
There she was, my mom, rocking Conner in his tiny chair with one foot, while she typed away at a laptop on the kitchen table. She had her glasses on and held a pencil in her mouth. When she saw me, she looked away from the screen and grinned.
“Christine,” she said after pulling the pencil from her mouth. “Would you say that you were always a hero in your heart or you had it thrust upon you?”
“Aww, Ma, not this again.” I slumped into a chair across the table from her.
“Yes, I’m on a roll. I’ve written nearly six-thousand words today.”
Sighing, I crashed my head down on the table and left it there. My mom had this crazy idea of writing a novel—and I use the term novel loosely—about me. She was going to sell it as a work of fiction and under a pen name (to protect my secret identity, no doubt), but the whole thing was completely absurd. She had no idea how to write and knew nothing about telling a story. You should hear the crap she tried telling Conner at his bedtime. The stories made no sense.
“I’ve finally come up with a title, too,” she explained. “Want to hear it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
As if she hadn’t heard me at all, she just continued talking. “My Daughter the Super Human.”
“Sounds great, Mom.” It was so much better before she knew I was a hero.
Again, she continued on, as if I hadn’t said a thing. “But I need some details from you. Like, when you first discovered you had powers, what happened? How did you use them at first?”
Yes, things were definitely better before she knew I was a hero. “Mom, can we do this later? I’m beat.”
“Yeah, of course.” She looked at the clock, and he eyes went wide. “Oh, look at the time. I completely forgot. Visiting hours start in thirty minutes. We have to get down to the detention center.”
As if on cue, my grandmother came up from the basement, carrying a basket of clean laundry. “Penny, are we going to—”
“Just as soon as I get my jacket,” Mom cut her off. Then she stood, leaving Conner rocking on the floor. “I take it you’re not coming again, Christine?” Now my mother’s voice had turned stern.
“No,” I said as I shook my head. Even if I wanted to, I was too tired to deal with any of that at the moment.
My grandmother didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at me. She simply walked out of the kitchen, carrying laundry upstairs.
After my grandmother was out of earshot, my mother turned and started yelling at me, while keeping her voice only just above a whisper. “You really are being disrespectful. After all your grandfather has done for you.” Then her expression softened. “I know you’re upset with him. But it would mean so much for him if you came. Next time would you please consider it? They’re going to move him to New York next week for his trial. It would be nice if you went to see him before then.”
I nodded. But the simple fact was, he didn’t want me there. I tried going a couple of times just after he was hauled out of our house by several policemen. He wouldn’t talk to me, he barely even acknowledged I was there. The thought that my grandfather suddenly wanted no contact with me hurt so much, I just decided it was better if I didn’t go. There was no use to it.
The worst part of it was I didn’t know if my grandfather was innocent or not. I wanted to believe he was, but the evidence was stacked against him. And the way he’d left the house, so willingly, with no argument with the officers. He’d never once professed that he hadn’t done it.
My mother let out a huff and left the room. She must have understood I had no intention of setting foot inside the Alleghany County Jail again.
Conner began to fuss from his seat, so I scooped him up and carried him. Why mama mad?
I sighed. This was yet another headache. Conner could talk now, even though he wasn’t even six months old yet. The words didn’t come out of his mouth. Like me, Conner could speak with his mind.
She just misses grandpa, Conner.
Why?
Because he’s going away.
Why?
Because he might have done something bad.
Why?
I don’t know why.
Why?
I ignored him this time. He might have had the mental skills to pull off telepathy, but he was still an infant.
I carried Conner into the living room just in time to see my mother and grandmother stepping out the door. My grandmother still seemed to want to look everywhere but in my direction.
I understood. If I were in her position, I’d have acted the same way.
Just as my mother turned to shut the door behind her, she turned to me as if it were an afterthought. “Oh, Christine, I almost forgot, you got a package today.” She nodded at the table we usually threw the mail on and then walked out.
As I approached the table, still cradling Conner in my arms, I saw the padded envelope. It had my name on it, a familiar-looking handwriting that simply read “Christine Carpenter” with my address.
There was no return address on the envelope.
I had a bad feeling about the package even before I picked it up. I carried it over to the couch, where I set Conner down, and ripped open the end of the envelope. Looking inside, all I saw was a piece of paper. I pulled it out and read it. The message was simple and to the point:
Christine,
You still have much to learn.
If you get the chance, look me up in Colorado.
The Garden of the Gods.
Q
I looked on the other side to see if there was anything else written. There was nothing. There was only one person I knew who could have sent me that letter—Quinn. But why would he be writing me? And why would he want me of all people to “look him up”?
Making sure there was nothing else inside, I turned over the envelope and shook it several times. I was surprised when a small baggie fell out into my lap.
I picked it up, and at first I thought there was nothing inside it. But there was no way Quinn would send me an empty bag. So, I looked at it closer—much closer. Holding it nearly up to my eye I saw a tiny red bead. It couldn’t have been any bigger than the tip of a pin.
The object wasn’t red though. The red on it was blood. And it was bloody because Quinn had dug it out from behind his ear. It was the thought inhibitor.
Quinn had his powers back.
I thought I was going to cry.
What da matter? Conner asked, apparently sensing the darkening of my mood.
Everything.
Like what you’ve read? Thought this is the end of the Hero Heist arc for our story, this isn’t the end for Christine and her friends. We will start our next arc Heroes’ Burden soon! Stay with us and enjoy the fun!
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