Chapter 10: The Rescue
John
pushed at the world, the wind pulling at his ski mask and battering his eyes
until he couldn’t go any faster. Maybe he needed goggles in his real costume,
when he made one? Or could he shield himself against the wind with a telekinetic
field? He pushed out his field, but it was hard work to push individual
molecules back. Finally John throttled back. He might have to go a long way
tonight.
Where
was Jason, anyway? Could John pick him up telepathically?
Hunh.
Apparently, he could. Jason was out there, north and east over a mile away,
towards Mrs. Crudup’s Black neighbourhood. He must be worried about Rafaella,
John thought. John was, too. Surely the adults had made arrangements for her?
Except that “arrangements” might not be enough. Seven superheroes had died fighting Doctor Destroyer in
Detroit, and plenty of other ones since. Some even said that Takofanes was more
dangerous than the Destroyer, and one thing was for sure: Uncle Kwan worked for
Takofanes, and that horrible creature
had plans for the Wongs. Rafaella wasn’t a Wong. John wasn’t a Wong, either.
For some reason, the thought hurt. But they both lived in the Yurt, and Kwan
had more than enough hate to go around. John knew that much.
The
lamplit streets flickered by beneath John, separated by wide, dark backyards
and still brightly lit houses, Jack-o-Lanterns stood on porches, mirroring the
Goblin Moon that hung over head, far brighter than the thin crescent of the
real, new moon. The city was waiting for the excitement of Halloween, but it
also knew that its superheroes were out tonight. Clearly that hadn’t stopped
the adult costume parties were in full swing tonight. John had already flown
over a police roadblock, with a line of cars pulled over for breathalyser
tests. Yet for most people, both the excitement and the perceived danger
wouldn’t peak until tomorrow night, the ‘real’ Halloween, with its
trick-or-treating. People might look at the calendar and note that October 31st
would be starting in ninety minutes, that this
was already Halloween night, but they could hardly grasp the extent of the
threat. No one could. Takofanes didn’t explain himself. He didn’t talk to
anyone, perhaps not even to Uncle Kwan. He hadn’t even stood up from his
levitating throne, at least in public. Everyone expected him to show up in
Detroit tomorrow night, but he could be anywhere, doing anything, right now.
Case
in point: John recognised the blue SUV parked on the side of the road beside a
small park up ahead. It was the “clean” one that the Juniors used on patrol, at
least until Rebecca started jumping them around. That was not what was going on
right now. Now, it was surrounded by wolves. John blinked. Don’s lightning
blasts were bright. How long could he
even keep those up? Jameel was throwing the dogs around with gusto, not that 31st
Century cybernetic muscles were going to do more than inconvenience werewolves.
Jamie stood on the roof of the SUV, loading her absurdly oversized automatic
pistols. Did she even need to load them? John didn’t know. And a were had
slipped by Jameel and was slyly sliding up the hood and windshield. Jamie’s
back was to it.
Where
was May? Someone needed to do something about this, even if it meant that someone was going to be rumbled for
breaking curfew. John slowed down, hovered. How much power would he have left
over for a telekinetic move? Enough to lift the were up and away from Jamie.
The Juniors would have to take it from there.
But
then the Captain surged out of the passenger side window. The dog usually rode
at the back end of the truck, so it must have taken it a second to get up to
the front of the car. Now it made up for lost time, coming up onto the hood and
planting a big paw on the windshield before it seized the were by the throat
and shook the whole, shaggy monstrosity like a chew toy. It vanished with a
soapy pop.
May came
up behind Jameel, kicking one of the wolf-thingies so hard that it flew level
with Jamie’s right-hand pistol as it descended into level arc. A much dimmer
flash illuminated the wolf, and it was gone, too. “They’re fakes!” Jamie
yelled.
Jameel
reached right through one and pulled.
For just a second there was an image of blood and gore in his emerging hand,
and then it, like the wolf he was holding, disappeared. “So they are.”
Jamie
continued. “Good thing we learned that before I fired off my silver ammo.”
May
asked, “you can get it back though, can’t you, G.G.?”
“Not
if the werewolves come in on the second wave,” Jamie/Gun Girl replied, giving
the shadows of the park her scan. But nothing emerged from the bushes and
playground equipment.
Well,
that was that. The Juniors could track down their illusion-throwing enemy
without some Grade 9 kid poking his nose in. It was time to see about Jason.
And Rafaella. John turned back to his original course and set off again, amazed
that he still had the energy to move, even after flying seven full blocks.
Hopefully they weren’t going to be fighting werewolves again. John had some
old, old silver-coated quarters from Doctor Stonechild had given him, but he
found it hard to believe throwing quarters would stop raging werewolves.
Another
three blocks, another familiar car. Like Jamie Neilsen, you knew Mrs. Crudup by
her car; a 1955 Cadillac Fleetwood, royal purple from above, or it would be if
it weren’t black under the streetlights, cream on the side, where John couldn’t
see it through all the zombies. The car had stopped right next to Woodlands
Cemetery, trouble on a night like this. Or maybe they came looking for the trouble.
Either way, Jason was in the midst of a clot of bodies, flying high like the
one that her sister had just kicked, but apparently much more real. Rafaella
was a flicker, fast as her sword, carving through the corpses. John hoped that
his zombie plan worked better than his werewolf plan. (He had a squirt gun full
of holy water, too, via the Major, thanks to Dora Guzman. But would it still be
holy water if it were shot out of a squirt gun? It seemed kind of
sacrilegious.)
John
swept in low, shouting as loud as he could. “On three, jump: one, two, three.”
It sounded stupid. He felt stupid. That guy who gave orders and shouted numbers
and expected everyone to listen to him? John wasn’t that guy. Still, he could
only do what he could, and as he shouted “three,” he swept out with his
telekinesis, field spread wide, ankle height, as hard as he could. Supposedly,
Mr. Wong had once swept the leg of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. That was what awesome
kung fu dudes did; and while John was absolutely not awesome with his powers
yet, zombies could barely walk, and they were old and dead and surely brittle.
At least, the ones that were easy to raise must be, and there had to be some
limit to Takofanes’ –or whoever was using him as cover tonights’-- power, or they were all doomed.
So it
was. The zombies were scythed down by the telekinetic field, and whether Jason
and Rafaella jumped in time or not, they weren’t affected. The Fleetwood
shuddered as the field hit its front tyres, but they didn’t pop, fortunately.
Oops. You might have thought about that before you pulled the stunt, John
thought to himself.
John
landed on the car. No point in getting too close to the zombies. They might all
have shattered ankles, but they could still bite, just like in World War Z. “Hey, Jas. Aren’t you
supposed to be in bed, dreaming of sweet pairs of pants?”
“Whatever.
And like I’d sleep if I thought about that.” Jason kicked away a head that had
snagged his pant legs. It shattered.
“Ew. I wouldn’t want to be one of the custodians in the morning.”
Rafaella
hopped down from the roof of the Fleetwood as John landed and began kicking
...things... out from under the front tyres. The old Detroit iron didn’t even
flex from all the landings and takeoffs. Or maybe it was reinforced somehow.
Over her shoulder, she sounded almost winded. “Thanks for the assist, dude.”
Underneath
John, the car started up and the headlights came on, presumably showing a clear
road ahead. Rafaella jumped back up, but John had already decided that car
surfing wasn’t going to be his thing. Besides,
if Jason wasn’t going to let the zombies phase him... John brought up his
defensive screen and dropped to the pavement. Now if the zombies bit him, it
would just be a powerup. Unless they could bite really, really hard. Which would
be stupid. Just how powerful would the universe allow stupid freaking zombies
to be? “So, uhm, why the Zombie Dawn thing? You could have just got out of
their way.”
Jason
shrugged. “Figured we could take ‘em. No top tenors.” That was what his Dad
liked to say before singing ‘Men of Harlech.’ “Besides,” he said, gesturing at
the car, stopping again at the side of the road just beyond the carpet of
wiggling zombies. “We got issues.” Miss Hirsch got out of the driver’s seat and
took her own, slow, old lady’s tour around the car. “Don’t leave your time
machine with the zombies. It’s, like, right there in the owner’s manual. And...”
>Incoming! Get air, John!
>!
John
levitated, yelling “Incoming!” Plagiarism didn’t count in combat. Fast. Below
him, three snarling brown-furred werewolves dropped Jason. Miss Hirsch turned.
threw herself into the open Fleetwood. It banged shut even as she disappeared.
A werewolf bounced off the side of the car. Clearly even stronger than it
looked, but John could still hear a kid screaming inside. Unfortunately for the
weres, they’d missed any chance of taking people unawares. Rafaella’s sword
swept through an arc, and a werewolf’s head soared free. A lot of those flying
body parts around tonight, but John was more worried about Jason. He looked
down. What exactly was he going to focus telekinesis on? He tried a mental
bolt, but werewolves were too crazy for that stuff to be super-effective, and,
anyway, there were five of them all over Jason, who was still rolling and
punching and kicking up a fight.
But
if Jason’s skin was too hard for werewolf fangs to penetrate easily, it was
also too hard for the fragmentation grenade that suddenly bounced on his chest
and detonated. The grenade that Amy had loaded with tinsnipped fragments of the
same coins that John was carrying in his pocket. The werewolves sounded almost
human as they screamed, their nails clicking on the paved shoulder as they
scattered. One absurdly fat one was going slowly enough that Amy’s lance caught
it. It went down. John leaned down with his TK as hard as he could, and
Rafaella appeared over it, pricking his backside with her silver-edged blade.
The were howled in woe. “Change. Or put Depends on your shopping list. Your
call.”
The
werewolf changed. Pretty cheapass effect, if you asked John, but then this was
magic, not a horror film, and why should magic look like a timelapse of Lon
Chaney getting his wolf on? Amy, he couldn’t help noticing, appeared out of
nowhere. She was wearing a somewhat ninja-inspired outfit, if a ninja went to
the Old West and used a blue Hudson’s Bay blanket jacket as the base. The
outfit had a ninja mask, but she took it off before opening the rear door of
the Fleetwood and pulling the little girl that Mrs. Wong had been talking to
yesterday out. For some reason, John could remember her name now: “Hi, Megan,”
he said. This might be a good time to start being cheerful and reassuring. He
was going to suggest that maybe Megan was safer in the car, but the road was
suddenly full of the red and blue lights of the arriving police.
Megan
said, “Hi! My Daddy’s a superhero.” She held out a draggling stuffy. “Amy can
hold my bear.”
Amy
held the little girl in her arms a little further out and asked, “What did we
say about sharing with everybody, Meg?”
Megan
started crying. “Where’s my Daddy?”
With
a muffled pop, Miss Hirsch appeared beside Amy and Megan. “Mrs. Wong is waiting
for you, Megan.”
Megan
sniffled, Amy started. “Oh my God. You didn’t tell Mom we were out here, did
you, ma’am?”
Miss
Hirsch sounded amused as she replied, “Your secret is safe. I just want Meg with
your parents before her Dad shows up. He’s got enough to worry about tonight without
worrying about the sitters.”
Meg
said, “Can I have some chai? It helps me sleep.”
Miss
Hirsch sounded amused again. “A hammer couldn’t help you sleep, Meg.” Then she
disappeared.
Amy
shook her head. “Pawned by a four-year-old. Jenny makes that look so easy.”
“Settle
for saving her life? That’s gotta be, like, class participation credit, anyway.”
John took Amy by her shoulders for a second and froze. He really didn’t want to
let go, but everybody up to and including the police were looking at them.
“I want an A.”
“Because
you’re a keener.” Gah! It wasn’t much. He wanted to be funny. Where was the guy
who lived inside his head who always had smart things to say at a moment like
this? Probably on strike because John had let go of her shoulders. But she
giggled, and he giggled, because he really liked hearing Amy’s laugh. As they
talked, they walked over to where Jason and Rafaella were standing, watching a
Police MARS team handcuffing a gigantically fat man with cuts and lacerations
all over his body.
“Aren’t
you breaking curfew, Amy?” Jason asked.
“Aren’t
you guys breaking curfew?”
“But...
we’re boys.” John was so staying out of this.
Amy
snarled like a werewolf. Well, not really, but she sounded pissed. “We used to break curfew all the time.”
“But
it’s dangerous now.”
“So?”
“We’re
boys.”
“You
said. Mom’s double standard is straight out of the Seventh Century. What’s your
excuse, Jas?”
“I...Thanks
for saving our asses tonight, uhm, Blue Ninja.”
“It
was nothing, Not-a-Clue Boy.”
“Cue
Boy. I like that.”
“I
said...”
“I
heard it, Blue Streak.”
John
could see that that could go on as long as their ‘pink/purple’ argument, so he
walked over to the MARS van. “Officer. Blue Ninja and Cue Boy would like to
know anything you can give us about the perp.”
“Before
I tell you about the perp,” the officer said, sounding the last word
sarcastically, “Can I have your codename for my report? Ski-Mask Boy, is it?”
He waved at the still-bickering twins. He even managed to make the wave look
sarcastic. He was sarcastic aces. John would have worshipped at his feet, if he
just had time.
John said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m
...Air King.” Why did Amy give a telepathic jolt of surprise when he said that?
“Pleased
to meet you, Air King. I’m Sergeant Tatum. This is Keith Tuney, and he’s
supposed to be on probation, which has rules against being in a werewolf pack.”
The sergeant grabbed a necklace dangling fromTuney’s neck and pulled off a
twisted silver-wire pentagram. “Even a fake pack.”
The
fat man talked fast. “I don’t know anything about any necklace or werewolves.
Someone’s playing me. I Just want to go home.”
John
asked, “Who is playing you?”
Tuney
gestured at the twins, the police blanket shrouding his body dancing. “Tell him
I haven’t said anything to anyone. He said I’m more valuable alive. He said!”
Officer
Tatum was looking at his phone. “Oh boy. Not that we don’t appreciate your
help, Air King, but this thing just went sideways. No more talking. We’re taking
this guy down to the PRIMUS Field Office. Anything more you need to know, I’m
sure the Liberty League will tell you.” He sounded a little unconvinced.
“Sergeant...”
Tuny began.
“We’ve
got vocal restraints in the van, Tuney.”
Jason
and Amy had come to stand at John’s shoulder. Jason said, “Thank you, Sergeant.
We’ll let the grownups deal with this.”
A
moment later, they were standing by the Fleetwood. Rafaella said, ”So. My
prisoner, and I don’t get to know what the big deal is?”
Amy
took a moment to answer. “Tuney was a supervillain for a few months. He ran
into Jenny and her Senior Patrol, figured out who my parents were, and tried to
sell Jenny and Henry to Yin Wu for assorted supervillainous bwa-ha-ha. The cops
couldn’t make a serious charge stick, but Dad had a long, long talk with him,
and UNTIL and PRIMUS are supposed to be
doing a deep surveillance on him in case one of his old buddies shows up. Like
the Demonologist. Small world.”
She
was leaving stuff out, John could tell. He just couldn’t figure out what. “I
thought you were with Rebecca tonight, Rafe?”
“Gah!”
Rafaella was mad. Again. “If I wanted one of you pinkies, I’d go a lot pinker
than Rebecca. I was in Babylon at a meeting with my supporters. Booker Crudup
and Meg’s mom set them up, I show up to be little Ms. Princess Figurehead and
try to talk them out of being stupid. Sometimes Rebecca drives me, sometimes
Miss Hirsch. And Emily’s getting the hang of the Fleetwood. Now shouldn’t we be
getting back to the Yurt before they notice you’re gone?”
“Ooh!
I can drive the Fleetwood back to the house!” Jason volunteered.
Rafaella
waved that off. “The car can drive itself, as long as there’s no zombie
apocalypse on the road.”
Amy
said, “I’ll throw my bike in the trunk. We can drop off next block. Jas? Come
with? John?”
No,
he wanted to say. Everyone can go but Amy. But he couldn’t. And the frustration was like to killing him, and the
world was slipping out of sight, and for a moment he could see the bones of the
universe, and he was, only half-surprised, hanging in the night air, light
years.... No, wait, five blocks away, to the trees that lined the edge of the
Panther Heights mall parking lot. Although Telantassar thought that John might
eventually have interstellar range, this was the first time that John had ever
actually teleported, and the way that he was feeling, five blocks was more than
enough for a first time to thrust through the folds of spacetime. And shouldn’t
he be doing something about the falling thing? Through a haze of tired, John
reached out and brought his plummet to a halt telekinetically.
Again,
he was hanging fifty feet above a midnight street, and watching a crisis unfolding beneath him,
though at least one he could handle. The girl in the tree might be no match for
the skeletons that stood, eerily still, beneath it, while one clumsily tried to
climb the trunk, but John shouldn’t have much trouble with them. At least if
the Monster Manual was right. And why
shouldn’t it be?
A
quick telekinetic sweep of the street, and the accuracy of Dungeons & Dragons play aids was demonstrated for all to see.
Bones lay scattered in the empty parking lot. John landed, very, very relieved
to rest his powers. Teleportation was really, really hard. “Miss? It’s okay.
The skeletons are gone now.” That was the sort of thing that superheroes said,
John thought.
“Who
are you?” The girl said.
“Air
King,” John replied. In his head, he added the next line. “Never heard of him.”
“Never
heard of him,” the girl said. This was not going to be a fun conversation, it
occurred to John.
“I’m
new in these parts,” John said. Something something about just in time for me.
With a joke about skeletons.
“Well,
you’re just in time for me. That was by the skin of my teeth.”
She
came swinging down from the lowest branch. Time to see what he’d rescued.
Woah.
He knew her. She was Liam’s new friend from school.
And
she was beautiful.
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