Wanted: A Superhero to Save the World

  “Tell you what,” I said. “If you’ll come clean and tell me what you know about my father, I’ll let you know where my superhero invention is. No lies. I want proof.”

  Milligan shrugged. “There’s not much to say, and I got no proof.”

  “Then just tell me what you know. I’ll decide if I believe you or not.”

  “All right. The truth.” He stayed quiet for a moment, the only sound the swishing of his jeans. “Here’s the scoop. I wanted your dad to join me in my business, selling merchandise for some quick cash. But he was a lot like you. Clean as a whistle. Wouldn’t even cross a street without the green light, if you know what I mean. Drove me nuts. He even turned me in for cashing in on some jewelry, claiming I was fencing for a burglary ring. Which was true, it turned out. I didn’t know it till later.

  “Anyway, one day your dad was coming home from a business trip, driving down highway two-fifty-two. You know, the one that curves real sharp at the river? Well, his brakes went out, and he flew off the road, right into the drink.”

  Milligan made a splash sound. “The current took him away, and he drowned. End of story.”

  I let the imagined scene soak in for a moment before responding. “Did anyone find the car? Check it for tampering?”

  “Yep. Cops dragged it out. Someone cut the brake line. Had to be the head of the burglary ring, a mob boss, but he skipped town. Never heard from him again. The records are public. I’m surprised you never checked them.”

  “And you had an alibi?”

  “Iron clad. In fact, I was with your mom. She was sick, and your dad was hurrying home to be with her, like the good husband he always was.”

  I nodded. “And Sam and I were gone to summer camp. That’s why I didn’t see you.”

  The sound of Sam’s gentle whimpering rose from the chair.

  “We’d better change the subject,” I said.

  “No problem. Just so you believe I’m telling the truth. I did hold a grudge against your dad, but I’m no murderer.”

  I pushed on in silence. Now that the conversation had ended, exhaustion took hold and stretched my mouth into a yawn. When was the last time I slept? I looked up. The quake countdown had dropped to 10:48:15. Maybe I had time to go home and catch a nap, just a couple of hours, but then I might run into Mom. She’d never let me go to Mephisto’s hideout.

  Ahead, the gate that marked the exit to the Dead Zone loomed closer in the waning moonlight. Beyond it, people streamed along the sidewalk and street, heading for the city limits, some on bicycles, others jogging while lugging suitcases or towing carts and wagons loaded with stuff. Some hauled small children buckled in shoulder-mounted baby carriers.

  Since dawn would soon break, they probably hoped to leave the moment the sun provided enough light. With cars clogging the pathways, pavement ripped up, and light poles leaning here and there, held in place by sparking electric wires, the people had to dodge about in lines that snaked around the obstacles.

  I sighed. They were scared. As they should be. Even if they managed to get far enough away from the city to avoid getting killed, they would return to nothing but rubble. Homeless. And how could they possibly know how far to run in the first place?

  I rolled my hand into a fist. I had to help them somehow. Be their superhero, like Damocles said. But how?

  Mephisto and Graham probably hoped I would work with Damocles to get the ransom money, so they wouldn’t expect me to show up at the Snakepit address for quite a while. Maybe it would be best to sneak over there before they were ready. That might be my only chance. Getting some rest would have to wait.

  “Eddie,” Milligan hissed. “Kick it in gear.”

  I looked back. Three men ran toward us, two with knives drawn. I pushed harder, driving my feet into a quick jog, but I couldn’t possibly outrun these muggers, not while pushing a wheelchair.

  Milligan ran alongside, constantly glancing behind us. “We’ll never make it, Eddie.” He pulled out a switchblade and snapped it open. “Just keep going and don’t look back.”

  When he halted, I ran ahead, but I did look back. He raised his knife and dove into the trio, slicing with the blade. Whipping arms, thrashing bodies, and gleaming blades blurred. As I drew farther away, darkness shrouded the fight.

  I swallowed hard. If only I could be a superhero now, I could squash those creeps. Milligan was a low-class thug, but I couldn’t just let them cut him to pieces.

  I stopped at the gate and touched Mastix at my belt. It stayed dark, but I still had my razor-disk pistol. “Sam, wheel yourself out to the crowds. I have to help Milligan.”

  Chapter 16

  Sometimes You Just Have to Tell Mom.

  “Eddie,” Sam said, “you can’t —”

  “Just do it!” I shouted. “Don’t argue!”

  “All right. If you say so.”

  I ran toward the fight, detaching the pistol on the fly. Ahead, the three attackers huddled around Milligan, pummeling him with their fists as he lay on the ground. When I came within a few steps, I stopped and fired a disk at a mugger. Pop. The spinning razor buzzed into his face. He yelped and scampered away, trying to dig the disk out of his cheek.

  I squeezed the trigger again. Pop. I hit another mugger in the back of the head. He howled and ran into the darkness. Just as I aimed at the third man, he staggered back, clutching the handle of Milligan’s knife, the blade embedded in his stomach.

  As he stumbled away, I reattached the pistol and knelt next to Milligan. Early morning light revealed bloody slashes across his forehead and cheeks as well as a black eye and a bruised jaw.

  His lips barely moved as he whispered, “Whatever you did to those guys … thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him to a sitting position. “Think you can stand?”

  “Maybe.”

  Bracing my feet, I hauled him up. He wobbled but stayed upright as he dabbed at one of the facial cuts. “What did you shoot them with?”

  “Razor disks.” I glanced around. “Let’s go before more muggers show up.”

  He limped toward the gate, grimacing with every step. “Don’t wait for me. Just go on home. I’ll be all right.”

  “You gotta be kidding.” I grabbed his arm. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

  He stopped and pulled me to a halt. “Eddie. Listen. I’ll come clean. Probably the first time in my life.”

  “All right.” I looked into his eyes. They seemed sincere. “Spill it.”

  “I …” He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t cut your dad’s brake lines, but I did tell the mob boss where to find his car. He threatened to kill me if I didn’t, but that’s no excuse.” He dragged the toe of a shoe across the walkway. “I guess I just wanted to save my own skin.”

  Rage boiling in my gut, I spoke through clenched teeth. “So why are you telling me now?”

  His shoulders sagged. “Because you deserve the truth. Your dad was a better man than me. And you’re just like him. I mean, you risked your life to save me, and you didn’t have to.” He took off his baseball cap and wadded it in his wringing hands. “I’m sorry for what I did. Really.”

  The fire inside burned on. A scream begged to erupt. My fists tightened into balls of fury. I wanted to punch him in the face. Break his nose. Make him suffer. Pay him back for what he did to me. To Sam. To Mom. He fractured our family. Shattered us into a million pieces. And we were still trying to glue them together.

  “Here.” Milligan leaned over and pointed at his nose. “Right here. As hard as you can. A bunch of times if you want. I deserve it.”

  Tears trickled down my cheeks. A new sob shook my body in a hard spasm. I raised my trembling fist and took aim.

  Milligan closed his eyes, a new tic making the edges of his lids flinch. It would feel so good to land a punch. Just one good, hard one. But if
I did, what would that make me? I wouldn’t be like my dad — a better man, like Milligan said. I would just be an angry kid getting revenge. Hitting him wouldn’t bring Dad home.

  Breathing fast and shallow, I uncoiled my fist and lowered it. The fire in my gut died down, though the embers stayed hot. “I’m not going to hit you, Milligan.”

  He opened his eyes, relief obvious in his expression. “Tell you what. Let’s go to your place. Find your mom. I’ll talk to her. Tell her the truth.” His brow lifted as he looked toward the gate. “Hey. Some guy is with Sam. You’d better check it out.”

  I spun that way. In the crowd of hustling people, Sam’s wheelchair wasn’t in sight. I ran toward the gate as fast as I could. When I arrived, I found Sam petting a cat sitting on her lap. No man stood anywhere nearby.

  Spinning again, I looked into the Dead Zone. Milligan was gone. Mentioning Sam was a diversion.

  “See the nice kitty?” As the gray tabby rubbed against Sam’s chest, she petted it with long strokes. “Listen. He’s purring.”

  I checked the cat’s collar. No engraved name or tags. “Yeah. Probably lost. He’s glad to find someone who cares.”

  “He’s right. I care.”

  I gave the cat a long stroke of my own. “You do, Sam. You’re as sweet as they come.”

  “Can we keep him?” she asked, her hands folded in a begging pose.

  “Let’s give him a little test.” I gathered the cat and transferred him to the hood of a car just a step away. He immediately leaped back into Sam’s lap. “All right. If Mom agrees, we’ll keep him.”

  “Goody.”

  “Hang on. We have to go.” I grabbed the wheelchair handles and pushed her into one of the long, snaking lines.

  “Are we going home?”

  “We’ll pass by our building.” A woman pushing a shopping cart filled with canned food cut in front of us, slowing our progress. “We can’t stay, though.”

  “Don’t we have to let Mom know we’re okay?”

  “One way or another.” I broke out of the line, squeezed between two stalled cars, and wheeled into the street, weaving around other cars. It wasn’t easy, but it was faster than the other way. “We’ll stop and leave a note if we can. Maybe with Barney. But we have to keep going.”

  “Together. We’re a team. And now we’re three. I decided to name him Prince Edward Thomas Oscar Stephen Horsey O’Ryan. I picked Edward, ’cause that’s your real name.”

  I laughed. “Thanks. I’ll call him Petosho.”

  “You’d better not. He won’t like it.”

  “Whatever.” After a few more minutes of weaving, our apartment building came into sight. Barney sat with his back against a support column, one of four that used to hold up the portico. With the rifle in his lap and his eyes blinking, he looked like a weary soldier ready to fall asleep. The people hurrying by didn’t seem to notice or care that he had a gun.

  When he saw us drawing close, his head lifted. “So there you are.”

  I stopped the wheelchair in front of him. “Have you seen our mom?”

  “Sure did. She’s riding her bike around searching for you guys, and she stops to check with me to see if I’ve seen you. Kind of like a moon orbiting a planet.” His brow furrowed. “But I guess a moon doesn’t stop to talk to the planet, does it?’

  “When is she due to come around again?”

  Barney checked a watch on his wrist. “Maybe five minutes.” He looked at the wheelchair. “What happened to Sam?”

  “She fell. She’s all right, though. Sprained ankles, we think.”

  Barney nodded. “Not used to the new bicycle. Takes some practice.”

  I looked at the building. Our section still seemed pretty much intact. If I could search around, I might find something to help us cross the swamp. “Is it safe to go to our apartment and get some stuff?”

  “Probably. Your wing’s pretty stable. Just use the north stairway, though. The south one’s half gone.”

  “Great. Do you mind watching Sam while I’m up there?”

  “Not a problem.”

  I parked the wheelchair next to Barney, snatched the flashlight from my belt, and ran into the building. After turning on the beam and hustling up the north stairs, I arrived at our apartment and entered through the open doorway.

  Stepping lightly, I aimed the beam straight ahead, walked into my room, and looked around. Nothing useful caught my eye, just bedding, clothes, and my computer. What would help us get through a swamp? A boat? But what could we use as a boat?

  I looked at my bed. An air mattress, maybe? Didn’t we have a couple of those when we camped in the park with Dad?

  I hurried to a hall closet and pulled stuff down from the top shelf — shoes, an umbrella, a golf club, a folded pup tent … now I was getting closer … a propane lantern, and … yes … a folded air mattress.

  With the beam shining on the mattress, a quick scan revealed that it had a battery-operated internal motor that would make it self inflate. No problem. Even though I lost two batteries when I threw the projector in the dumpster, I could use the batteries in the flashlight if the ones in the motor didn’t work.

  After retrieving my old backpack from my room, I tucked Mastix inside. It would be best to keep it hidden from now on. If Mephisto saw it, he would figure out that Damocles had died. Besides, it didn’t work for me. Maybe it never would.

  I added the mattress to the backpack, put it on, and hurried to the lobby. I stopped at the main entrance and looked outside. Mom’s bike leaned against a low brick wall in front of a planter. Barely in view, she crouched in front of Sam’s wheelchair, touching her bandaged ankle. Her worried expression told me everything I needed to know. Getting away from her so we could go to Mosquito Lagoon might be impossible.

  As I walked toward her, I refastened the flashlight to my belt. What could I say that would get her to let us go? The only thing that came to mind was the truth. I had to stop the next earthquake. No one else could. But telling her about Milligan’s role in Dad’s death could wait. That news should come from him.

  When I walked over the collapsed portico’s debris, she caught sight of me and ran with arms extended. I reached out as well. When we came together, she pulled me close. “Oh, Eddie, I’m glad you’re all right. I was so worried about you.”

  I tried to pat her on the back, but my hand hit her backpack instead. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sam took some lumps, but she’s tough.”

  Mom drew away and ran a hand through my hair. “What happened? Sam said she went flying off her bike and landed hard, but I couldn’t get any details out of her. She said to ask you.”

  As people continued hustling past, their chatter made it hard to hear. I took Mom’s hand and walked with her toward Sam and Barney. Sam sat in the wheelchair petting Prince Edward while Barney stood at attention, his rifle against his shoulder.

  I sat on the brick wall next to the bike while Mom and Barney looked on. Now we were far enough away from the street to talk. I spread out my hands. “It’s like this.”

  I told them everything — my nights out trying to fight crime, Damocles’s death, my superhero invention, Sam’s super powers, Damocles’s hologram, facing kidnappers in the Dead Zone, meeting Mephisto and Graham on the roof of the Stellar building, and on and on.

  Mom stared, her expression blank. Barney’s face altered with every shift in the story, tensing during the dangerous parts, smiling at the funny parts, and even turning tearful when Damocles dissolved and disappeared.

  I finished with, “So Sam and I have to go to Mosquito Lagoon and face Mephisto. I have to stop his plan to destroy Nirvana.”

  Mom gave me a long, hard look, her lips firm and her eyes unblinking. Then, her lips parted, and she inhaled as if ready to say something, but she shook her head and stared some more.

  Finally, she stepped back and set a fis
t on her hip. “Well, Mr. Superhero, I’ll tell you what. The city has to be saved. I’m going to let you and Sam go.”

  I blinked. “Really?”

  “But there’s one condition.”

  “What?”

  She touched her chest. “I’m coming with you.”

  Chapter 17

  Not My Kind of Water Slide

  “But, Mom, it’s dangerous. You might get hurt.”

  “I might get hurt? What about you?” She swept an arm toward Sam. “And your sister’s already hurt. Would any mother in her right mind let you two go to that swamp alone?”

  Her fiery eyes melted any objection I could come up with. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Eddie.” Mom set a hand on my knee in the same way Damocles had done. “You really are a superhero. There’s no denying that. Damocles knows. I know. And Sam certainly knows. But every superhero needs to learn that he can’t do everything by himself. That’s why Damocles trained you to do what he couldn’t.”

  I nodded. “Got any ideas on what I should do?”

  Mom pivoted to Barney and altered to a commanding tone. “Do you have another gun?”

  “An air pistol I use on rats. It shoots pellets. Won’t kill humans, but it’ll smart like the dickens.”

  “That’ll have to do.”

  “I’ll go to my office and get it. Anything else?”

  “Eddie has his razor gun, so we’re good on weapons.” She unzipped my backpack, looked at the mattress, and rezipped it. “But we’ll need a paddle. Anything that’ll help us get across the swamp.”

  “I’ll see what I can find.”

  When Barney left, I gave Mom another hug. Milligan’s news about Dad weighed me down. I had to tell her. With Sam distracted by Prince Edward constantly begging for attention, now might be the best time.