Hurriedly, he dressed and made his way down to the street. There was already a crowd moving along the pavement, trying to find out what was happening.
He ran down the street, around the corner and nearly tripped over his feet when he saw what had happened.
It had been an empty building. Two blocks down from his apartment. Just sitting on the corner, unobtrusive, more of a landmark than anything else. Three stories of empty space had been completely flattened; the street around it was strewn with bricks, mortar and flames. The rubble on site was a raging inferno and the emergency services were just turning up.
Russell, along with half the neighbourhood, pushed his way down to the scene.
From the television footage and reports in the newspaper, this was nothing like the first explosion.
For one thing, the car park had only been mildly affected. One floor of cars had been destroyed, but the damage went no further. There was also talk of the flames crawling down the sides of the building. Odd behaviour, especially as people described it as being a cold flame.
This occurrence, on the other hand, was much different. As everyone could see, the building had been levelled. For another thing, the flames were burning furiously and the heat from them was very much a factor as Russell drew closer.
It didn’t take long for the authorities to corner off the site and get the fire under control. It also didn’t take long for Russell to start contemplating the coincidence that the explosion, this time, was so close to his apartment, rather than being on the other side of town. Did they know where he lived? Was this a threat?
His mind shut off the questions in an instant when he spotted something.
He was glancing around, eyeing the crowd. Were any of these people involved? Paranoia he figured, all the same, you can’t be too careful, when he spotted a van. White.
He pushed through the gathering crowd, struggling to get away from the scene and toward the vehicle.
It was familiar. As he got closer, he could discern the make, Mazda. It was them again. The same people.
“Russell?”
Someone was calling his name. The Cockney photographer.
“Stacey?”
“Over here!”
Russell managed to catch a glimpse of the small man being pushed along by the crowd. He was only a couple of metres away.
“No. Get over here! Have you got your camera?”
“Always!”
The small man disappeared from sight; Russell struggled to see where he was. Perhaps he had been trampled by the crowd.
“What is it?”
Russell jumped. Stacey was standing just behind him.
“Follow me.”
The van was still there. Were they standing by to gloat? He wasn’t sure. The two men pushed onward, regardless.
When they finally broke free from the masses, Russell kept a slow pace. Stacey moved up beside him. “What is it?”
“That van.”
Stacey raised his camera and started getting shots. He zoomed in on various aspects, such as the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone inside, and the number plate.
“That’s the same one from the other night,” He reported.
Russell looked at him, “When I was attacked? How do you know?”
“Same number plate.”
“And you didn’t tell the police?”
“Did you?”
No. He hadn’t. He’d been attacked and hadn’t even bothered telling the police. But that was mainly because of his lack of any explanation. How did a lone man like him get away from a bunch of thugs? He could hardly talk about his powers, could he? He grizzled to himself inwardly. It was a difficult business, this super hero gig. Still, he decided to change the subject, get the focus off him.
“If you were there Friday night, why didn’t you help me?”
“I had a feeling you’d be able to take care of yourself.”
“Still, we may have been able to find out who’s behind it.”
Stacey continued taking photos, also keeping an eye out for the driver using his zoom, “That wasn’t our job. It’s really a police matter. We can only get involved if there are sufficient ‘suspicious and super-natural’ influences to warrant our presence.”
“Says who?”
Stacey looked at Russell blankly, “Actually, that’s a very good question.”
“Look.”
Two men, dressed casually, having foregone their blacks for a more subtle approach, were approaching the van. Russell couldn’t be sure but one of them looked like the smaller of the two from the day before.
“This way,” Stacey grabbed onto his shirt and hauled him away from the crowd. For a small man, he was sufficiently strong.
“Where are we going?”
“My car. Unless you have a better option?”
Of course he didn’t, excepting notifying the police and getting the heck away, but, strangely enough, that certainly wasn’t the most inviting.
The colt was parked only a few metres away. Stacey hopped in first, unlocking the door for Russell who clambered in, pushing a camera case, satchel and a few scattered newspapers onto the floor.
This wasn’t very surprising. Russell had noticed the tendency for the cars of single people to gather enough junk that you could end up with the impression someone may just well be hidden underneath it all. It could also explain the occasion you see people driving along; talking to themselves, having convinced themselves into believing someone is under all that mess.
It was a feisty little machine. It roared to life and Stacey kicked it straight into second gear, pushing quickly into the street. The van was already on the move.
“Watch out!”
“Don’t worry, I’m a good driver.”
People were practically diving out of his way as he dodged through the crowd.
The van was only going a moderate speed; it wouldn’t take long to catch up. But if they got too close, they might recognise Russell in the rear-view.
“Hold back a bit. We’re tailing them, not ramming them.”
Stacey cast an annoyed glare his way; “I’m doing the driving, okay?”
The van turned at the first intersection, having caught the green light, Stacey kept close behind, “You haven’t done this before, have you?”
The cockney grumbled, “And you have?”
“No but I read enough books and watch enough movies-”
“Oh and you think this is all books and movies?”
Russell was starting to see they were going to have to work on their attitudes toward each other, “No. I was merely saying-”
“Well don’t. Okay?”
The van pulled up at the next intersection, waiting for the lights to change. Nothing strange there. The rear windows were tinted so Russell had no chance of seeing inside. He hoped that the driver wouldn’t be paying too much attention to who was behind.
The lights changed and both vehicles were off again. It wasn’t until they made it onto the terrace again that the van started picking up speed. They were heading back toward the older side of town. Not surprising considering that was where the last two attacks on Russell had occurred.
“These guys could have a base of operations set up in any number of those older buildings down that way.”
“Hopefully we’ll be able to find them sooner rather than later,” Stacey replied, glaring out the window as if trying to harness Pam’s abilities, or perhaps some other talents out of reach.
This brought another thought to Russell’s mind. How did the journalists find out about their powers? Born with them? Does that mean ever since he was a boy, Stacey was spitting out fire? And did Pam levitate her toys instead of using her hands? Was it as much strain on them physically as it was for Russell? What did their parents think? Why did they opt to keep it secret? And why is there a real need to keep them secret?
Is it people? Are they so paranoid and scared of what’s different? Is that really what people are like? Ready
to ostracise someone for a simple difference.
Obviously there were acts of racism, sexism and every other ism in the book, but, really, was it so bad that such a group of people as Russell had just found, needed to conceal their true identities from the world.
Wouldn’t they be looked upon with awe, as Superman or Iron Man? Kids these days still play super-heroes don’t they?
“I’ll be Iron Man and you can be Spiderman,” that kind of thing. If kids can do it, why can’t the adults?
Who wouldn’t want the power? Okay so they were great. But there was also the need to be in control of your powers, to make sure you use them for the right purposes. But Russell was starting to enjoy what he had. Think of everything he can do. Controlling the very wind. It’s something people have only dreamed of in the past or watched on television or in comics. But it was real. Really real and Russell could do it. It was amazing. Even the sensation of doing it, the feeling that he is part of the wind and vice-versa. He still had a long way to go before being confident in using his ability, but, hey, when that day came, there would be no stopping him from standing out there and declaring to the world, “I am…”
Hmm, he thought to himself. A name. A title, like Spiderman. Something cool. He’d need one. Then again, did Pam? But they were subversives. If he was to go out there for the greater good, he’d need a title.
But what?
The van made a sharp left, swinging out wildly into the other lane; the driver managed to keep control.
Stacey was fast enough to brake a little before attempting the turn, losing ground on the corner, but making it up in the recovery.
“They’re onto us.”
“Obviously,” Stacey seemed a little perturbed, though Russell wasn’t sure where exactly his hostilities lay.
Their speed crawled up the speedometer as they kept up with the Mazda. It wasn’t like they wanted to crash into it, or even get close. They just needed to keep it in sight.
From the looks of it, that was going to be a task they’d have to work at, or at least Stacey would.
There were cars on the street ahead, the van dodged from lane to lane to pass, Stacey followed suit. Fortunately there were two lanes in either direction; otherwise they could be in deep trouble.
Unfortunately, the driver of the van seemed to be reading his mind.
A sharp turn into Murray Street and the outlook changed considerably. This was a two-lane street.
It was better than a one- No. Maybe that would give them ideas, Russell thought. He knew he was being childish but it was getting quite exciting. The prospect of dying in a car accident was not very appealing, but it seemed to be getting further and further from his mind.
What was the point of being a reluctant hero?
Mind you, he found himself, more often than not, pondering the merits of being a super powered individual. Risking one’s life to save a world of ungrateful people. Well, not everyone would be ungrateful and hopefully some of them would be worth saving, like Kristen.
He hadn’t had very many good experiences with people, but there were certainly enough of the more decent kinds out there to warrant keeping the world safe from harm. Take the Rites. A lovely young couple, full of life and new love, both working hard at having children. Decent people. Kind, considerate. Russell hoped they were like the stereotype of the typical family, though he knew that was more wishful thinking than reality. Still, their existence pointed out that despite all the, well, not so good people, there were still a heck of a lot of nice ones to save.
Besides, if it meant he could strut around in those very revealing lycra costumes, hey, he was up for it, he mused to himself; he’d have to work on his physique first, though.
The van slowed, just beyond it, Russell could see an old Holden Barina slowly swerving from one side of the lane to the other, like a gigantic beetle after a hard night of drinking. He couldn’t help thinking, ‘aha, we have them now.’ Though it sounded so clichéd, and if movies were anything to go by, they were bound to slip through their fingers anyway.
Without indicating, the van swung out into the oncoming lane and roared onward and past the Barina. Stacey, after checking the coast was clear, managed to complete the same manoeuvre.
The van had begun to lay on the speed. Russell could picture its speedo passing the eighty kilometres an hour and still continue to rise as it pulled further away. But Stacey wouldn’t have any of that escaping business. He floored the accelerator and closed the gap between the two vehicles in mere seconds. For an out-dated hatchback, this machine had guts. Russell looked over at his driver and thought he could see a hint of a smile. Was it pride for the vehicle or the thrill of the chase? It didn’t matter; Russell was really starting to get caught up in it all. He was tempted to wind down the window and feel the windblast in on him as they sped through the streets.
Often the streets in Perth were like wind tunnels, roaring down from the skies and rumbling across the pavement so fast and strong, sometimes it felt you could literally lean into the oncoming wind at a forty-five degree angle. The small Colt wasn’t having any such problem heading down the streets with its small and somewhat angular frame, but the van was starting to feel the strain. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the driver had to fight to keep control of the vehicle as it began to swerve erratically, yet only slightly across the lane. Obviously the wind was not so forgiving on the large box on wheels doing ninety plus down a thirty zone.
They would soon be running out of straight road. At the end of Murray Street was a large cathedral, the one next door to the hospital Russell had found himself in only days earlier. At that point, the road curved sharply to the right and then sharply to the left and around the cathedral, creating a hook like road. They were going to have to either turn off one of the side streets or wait for the road to reach that hook at which point they would have to slow considerably or risk capsizing. And from the look of it, they weren’t going to be turning any time soon. Instead their speed continued to rise, and with them, Stacey kept pushing also.
“Uh… Stacey.”
“I know.”
“They’re not slowing.”
“Trust me, I know.”
Russell wasn’t sure if Stacey had caught on, or even realised what he was talking about. Maybe he was just being cocky; all the same, they were looking at a major accident.
The road narrowed slightly on either side as the footpaths began to jut out into the street, forming small alcoves for cars to park in. Still, the van moved onward. They were almost on top of the corner when they suddenly applied their brakes. The red indicator lights on the back flashed on as the brakes locked and the tyres tried to grip the pavement.
Even with the windows shut, Russell could smell the burning rubber as the Van continued to glide forward, losing traction as the tyres failed to find purchase. The driver tried to spin the wheel, taking them around the corner, but the height of the van worked against him.
As it rounded the corner, the top heavy vehicle’s right side wheels lost touch with the ground, bringing it up on the other two wheels and threatening to topple sideways. It was looking fifty-fifty as to their chances, but Russell finally lost interest in them.
“Stacey!”
Without a word, the Cockney twisted his steering wheel slightly before applying the hand break. With a sudden jarring heave, the Colt went into a seemingly wild spin, throwing Russell hard against the window so his face was slammed against the cold surface, leaving him worried whether he’d have any teeth left.
His eyes open, he watched as the landscape around him rotated at a hundred miles an hour, though it was much slower, and did his best to keep his dinner from the night before down. In the blur he lost sight of both Stacey and the van, his eyes bulging and head spinning, he knew he was going to be feeling sick for ages after this stunt.
That was until, beside him, he heard the handbrake release and the engine rev up again. Stacey floored the accelerator and sent Russell fly
ing back into his chair, feeling what could only be G-forces. Through the grogginess in his head, Russell managed to spot the van again. They were actually moving past it as it lurched forward and sideways, finally losing its battle with gravity and sending it into a sideways roll.
With its momentum, the vehicle continued to roll several more times, colliding with the large rock fence post that held the main gate to the cathedral. There was a shower of sparks and rocks as the two met, the van jarring to a halt.
Stacey eased on the brakes and pulled into one of the parking bays on the side of the road. This guy was one hell of a driver.
“Where’d you learn to do all that?”
Stacey smiled as he undid his seat belt; “You’d be surprised what you learn on assignment. I didn’t always work for the tabloids, you know.”
Russell stumbled as he got out of the car, grabbing hold of the door to maintain his balance. Stacey on the other hand casually strolled around the car to stand beside the younger man.
“Sorry, I should have warned you.”
“’Sokay. I should have seen it coming. You’re amazing, though. I can’t believe you did that.”
Stacey shrugged, not one to take too many compliments easily, he started to move toward the van, “We still have work to do.”
They weren’t the only ones to move onto the scene. Hospital staff had already mobilised. The hospital was only a couple of metres away and the stretchers were already coming out the door.
Everyone stopped, however, when a strange rumbling started from within the van. The slider door, that was now the ceiling of the vehicle as it lay on its side, began to bulge, almost balloon as something from inside attacked it.
It was odd. Surely no one could do that with their feet, and a gun would probably poke holes in the door before having that effect.
The rumbling grew in intensity as the metal of the door continued to bulge uncertainly, seemingly deflating before growing an extra inch or two in diameter.
“What the hell is that?”
Stacey shook his head; “I have no idea. Be ready.”
Russell knew what that meant and started to focus, allowing the silvery wisps of air to come into focus.
He nearly lost sight of them, though, when the door finally exploded. There was a rush of heat and air as the metal popped like a giant balloon, exploding upward and outward, showering the ground with metal, glass and what looked to be human-