Hero Worship (16 page)

Kent stands up straight, puffs his chest out, and swaggers toward her. “Probed my mind, huh? Did you find anything you liked?”

If Mystic notices that Kent is naked, she doesn't show it. “Your thoughts belong in the gutter.”

“I bet you'd like that,” he says, giving her a wink.

“You need to find some proof of your innocence or you're all sunk,” she says, motioning us to follow her as she heads toward the door. She points down the darkened corridor. “Go that way. It leads outside.”

“Why are you helping us?” I ask.

She stares at me for moment before saying, “Think about my offer, Marvin.” And with that, she disappears down the dark hall.

We find the door, but it's locked and won't budge when I yank on it. There are bars on it. Standing on my tiptoes, I see the gentle slope that leads to the Loganstin River, just out of reach outside.

Pushing me aside, Kent says, “I'll handle this.” He presses his hand against the doorknob. His hand liquefies and flows into the lock. He makes a face as he concentrates. “Almost … almost … almost there.” Something clicks, and he rotates his wrist counterclockwise. The ooze retreats out of the lock, forming back into his hand. “Ta-da!” he says, opening the door.

I get a whiff of the putrid body of water below as we approach the river's edge. “I don't know if I can swim across. It's far,” I say.

“Swim? You don't have to swim,” Kent says, his body melting into a pile and then reforming into a bowl—a lopsided, uneven, and wobbly bowl, but a bowl nonetheless. His face, stretched out like taffy, is on the outside to better see where he's going. I can't help but laugh.

“Wha ou laafin ad?”

“You made yourself into a boat,” I say.

“Stoop laafin, ou jerd,” he says. “Ush mae endu waadur.”

I shove off the shore and jump in, landing harder than I intended and causing Kent to grunt. “Sorry,” I say.

“Bea caaful,” he grumbles. “Sdurd paadlen.”

I lean over the side and use both hands, awkwardly paddling like a dog.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Finally managing to get around the island and to the other side of the river, we reach shore. As I jump out of the bowl-shaped Kent, Yvonne runs toward us. “What took you guys so long?”

“Yvonne, you came too?” I say.

“Yeah.”

I pull Kent onto shore. His body melts into a shapeless blob before retaking human form. Yvonne tosses his clothes at him, which he hurries to put on. “That water is freaking cold,” he grumbles.

“Thanks for coming, Yvonne. I'm so sorry. For everything.”

She looks at me for a long time before saying, “You bring out the best in Kent and me. You make us want to be better people.”

It takes me a moment to realize my mouth is hanging open. Kent finishes getting dressed, but he's too embarrassed to look me in the eyes. Yvonne shuffles her weight from foot to foot and rubs the back of her neck.

“You were our conscience,” she says. “The two of us didn't always do the right thing, but we always felt bad because we knew that you wouldn't approve.”

“Really?” I say.

“Yeah,” Kent says.

“Why do you think I finally gave up getting junkies high?”

“I thought it was because of the little girl. Harry.”

Yvonne nods her head. “She certainly helped my decision, but it was mostly because of you.”

I'm overcome. I clear my throat and say, “I had no—”

She punches me hard on the shoulder. “So don't ever bail on us again!”

I rub my shoulder. “Ouch!”

Yvonne hugs me, and the embrace lingers. As she pulls away, she asks, “What happened out there?”

“Eliza's vanished,” I say. “And Mystic offered me a spot on the Core—Eliza's spot.”

“Really?” Kent says.

“I told her thanks but no thanks,” I say. A smile replaces the scowl Yvonne's been wearing the past week. “I'm sorry I doubted your story about your parents. Mystic told me it was all true.”

Tears well up in Yvonne's eyes.

“I know what it's like to have a parent ripped from you,” I say. “But unlike you, I could've done something to stop it.”

My friends stare at me but don't say a word.

“My father killed my mother. The argument sounded just like all the hundreds of others they'd had. But this time my father was drunker than normal, and they fought about me going to the Power Aversion Program. My mom didn't want me to go. This time, when he struck my mom, he didn't stop. And I did nothing to stop him. I hid in my room and tried to block out the noise.”

“Marvin, it's not your fault,” Yvonne says. “You were just a kid.”

“No,” I say, “I could've stopped him. My powers had just developed. But I didn't know why or how it was happening. I didn't know that it was fed by fear. It scared me. I thought I was a freak. But I could've stopped my father. I should've stopped him. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could go back and find the courage to act. I swore I'd never make that mistake again. I will never, ever again live with the regret of not acting. It's the least I can do to honor my mother.”

Yvonne takes my hand and squeezes it, then wipes her moist eyes with her other hand.

“We should probably get out of here,” I say, heading away from the shoreline.

“Where're we going?” Kent asks, following me.

“We're going to Eliza's safe house.”

“Why are we going to that skank's place?” Yvonne asks.

“To check her videos,” I say. “I should've thought of it sooner.”

“Videos?” Kent says.

Heading away from the river, we make our way through the shrubs and underbrush and step out onto the road. “She films everything,” I say.

We run across the busy street, to a gas station with a pay phone. I open the phone book to get a number for a cab company. Dropping two quarters into the slot, I dial the number and order a taxi.

“Maybe we should just run,” Yvonne says. “Leave this mess behind us. Go far away.”

“I'm not running,” I say. “They'll never leave us alone. This isn't a problem that'll just go away. I'm not about to let you two go down because of my stupid mistake.”

The taxi pulls into the gas station parking lot and the three of us pile inside. Yvonne and I sit in the back, holding hands. It doesn't seem strange or awkward. It feels right.

Kent notices our intertwined hands and says, “Get a room.”

The taxi driver glances back at us in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he gets an eyeful of Kent. Yvonne notices this and leans across me toward Kent. In a hushed voice, she says, “Cover your face.”

Kent's limp fingers rise to his sagging face. “Oops.” He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head. The taxi driver continues to stare at him in the rearview mirror. “Watch the road,” Kent tells him.

The cabbie raises an eyebrow when I tell him to deposit us near the safe house. Yvonne pays the guy. I lead my friends into the building and up the staircase. “Our concrete cave is paradise next to this place,” Yvonne says.

Reaching the top of the stairs, the first thing I notice is that the front door to Eliza's apartment is wide open. Putting my finger to my lips, I motion for my friends to be quiet. We silently make our way in. On first glance, the place appears to be untouched. I lead my friends down the hall into the Roisin shrine.

“Is this her stuf
f
?” Kent asks.

“Yeah,” I say, heading over to the closet.

“I was wrong,” Yvonne says. “She's not a skank. She's an egomaniacal skank.”

I punch in the code on the keypad, the light turns from red to green, and the lock slides open. I swing open the closet door. There's nothing inside but the computer and the data sticker device. The two hard drives are gone. No DVDs, no memory cards. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

“It's gone,” I say. “It's all gone.”

Pushing me aside, Yvonne sits down at the computer. “Don't get all whiny yet. Let's see if she forgot to clear out the cache.” She types in a series of commands, opening folders and inspecting the contents of the hard drive.

“I didn't know you knew about computers,” I say.

“There's a lot about me that you don't know,” Yvonne says, opening a folder and inspecting the icons. “These look like video files.” She clicks on one, opening the media player. Kent and Yvonne lean in and try to make out the blurry video.

My heart drops. It's the footage of Eliza and me at the dam.

Reaching over Yvonne, I take the mouse and click to stop the footage. “That's nothing,” I say.

“What was that?” Kent asks. “I couldn't make it out.”

“Nothing,” I say, dragging the icon and depositing it into the recycle bin. “Try another one.”

Yvonne gives me a strange look before clicking on another video file. The footage plays. It takes me a second, but I recognize the alley behind the Chinese restaurant. “This is it,” I say.

The video shows Eliza and me hurrying into the alley. My backside fills the frame. Eliza looks around, and her
eyes stare directly at the camera. She moves me out of the
way and says, “Marvin, stand right here.”

We see Darren Campbell walking toward us. It's hard to hear, but he says, “Roisin, what's going on?”

And then all hell breaks loose.
The man charges me, sending me into a stack of wooden crates.

“Damn!” Kent says.

Eliza shoots Darren with a blast from her eyes, but he grabs her and hoists her into the air, slapping her across the face. We watch as I barrel into Darren, which launches him off his feet and straight into the air.

Eliza and I run down the alley, out of the frame of the camera, but the footage switches to a different camera and angle. “How many cameras were there?” Yvonne asks.

“I don't know,” I say.

The footage shows Darren kicking me repeatedly. “Who are you?” he yells.

It's hard to watch, but I make myself.

From another angle, Darren flies inches over my head. I grab him and swing him into the ground. He smacks against it, headfirst.

Both my friends gasp, and I close my eyes.

None of us say anything as the footage shows Eliza and me running out of the alley. The camera stays on Darren, lying there motionless. As the footage continues to play, Darren stirs and groans. His eyes blink repeatedly.

“He's alive,” I say.

Darren rolls over onto his stomach. He spits out a mouthful of blood. Eliza steps into frame, standing over him on the ground. He looks up at her. In a weakened voice, he says, “You're going to have to do better than that.” He laughs as he pushes himself up, rising to his knees. “You'll be nothing but a stain when I'm done with you.”

Eliza remains rooted in place, glaring down at him. “That's why I used Marvin, to wear you down so this would work,” she says.

“So what would work?” he asks.

Eliza's eyes glow as her power charges up. He just stares at her defiantly, as if silently daring her to do it. A bolt of energy erupts out of her eyes and strikes him in the face. His head is violently tossed to the side, and the sound of something snapping, like a branch in a heavy wind, echoes through the computer's speakers. He drops to the ground.

“Oh my god,” Yvonne mutters.

Eliza pokes her foot against Darren's body. He doesn't stir. She turns and walks toward the camera. We see her hands come into the frame and pick it up. The footage shows her face for just a second before it goes black.

“She killed him,” Kent says.

Yvonne looks around the desk, under it, and at the back of the computer. “Ta-da,” she says, reaching behind the computer and fiddling with something. She holds up something between her thumb and finger.

“What's that?” Kent asks.

“It's a data sticker,” I say. It's not the one retrieved from the blackmailers. It looks older and well used, judging by the scuffs.

“Correctamundo,” Yvonne says, sticking it on the scanner. She drags and drops the video file we just watched, copying it onto the data sticker. The device spins and chirps. She removes the sticker and hands it to me. “I'm sure there are countless people who would know what to do with this footage.”

“But which one will help clear our name?” Kent asks.

That's the million-dollar question
, I think. At this point, I don't know who we can trust.

“First things first,” I say, heading into the hall. My friends follow behind me. “We've got to—”

The windowpane shatters into a thousand pieces. Glass rains down. The three of us drop to the floor. A bullet whizzes overhead, striking the nearby wall.

Crawling on my belly, I say, “This way.” We race down
the hallway and into the bedroom. Pulling the curtains
aside, I peek out. “Oh, man.”

Outside, three large SWAT team vans are parked in front of the building. Two dozen men decked out in Kevlar vests and toting some heavy firepower have set up a perimeter. Chief of Police Earl Wooden storms around barking orders. He points to a location on the rooftop of the adjacent building. I spot three men with sniper rifles looking through the scopes at our apartment.

One of Wooden's lackeys scurries out and puts a bullhorn into his boss's outstretched hand. The device squawks as the chief puts it to his lips, which elicits a grimace. Trying again, Wooden speaks into the mouthpiece. “This is Chief of Police Earl Wooden of the Loganstin Police Department. The building is surrounded. Come out with your hands locked behind your heads.”

“What are we going to do?” Kent mumbles.

I flip on the television and a crystal-clear image appears, showing a breaking news story. SWAT team members are in position, pointing their high-powered rifles at our building. They all look pretty serious and kind of pissed.

“This is bad,” Yvonne says.

The sound of feedback from a megaphone screeches from outside. It goes silent, and then a voice bellows, “I repeat: You are surrounded! Come out with your hands locked behind your heads!”

On the television, we can see Wooden, bullhorn to his lips, now standing safely behind a squad car. “You have one minute to give up peacefully,” he says, his voice booming, “or we're coming in.”

“One minute,” Yvonne mumbles. “Not a lot of time.”

The heavily armed SWAT team prepares to go to war. They double-check their rifles, adjust their Kevlar vests, and line up in formation by the Loganstin Police armored van. “They're getting ready to storm the place,” I say.

Wooden's voice booms again from outside, actually vibrating the windows. “You have thirty seconds!”

“Any good ideas?” Kent asks, a tremor in his voice.

A dozen SWAT team members move toward the front door. “This is your last warning,” the chief of police says.

“Maybe the two of you should surrender,” I say. “It's really me they're after.”

“We're not leaving,” Yvonne says.

The chief of police nods his head to the SWAT team. The dozen heavily armed men storm into the building.

“Okay, I guess this is it,” I say, digging into my pocket. Pulling out the two remaining syringes of blue liquid, I remove the protective covers over the needles and promptly jam them into my thigh, emptying the contents into my bloodstream. With a rising sense of dread, I stare at the door of the apartment, waiting for the inevitable: SWAT team members with guns. “Calm down, Marvin,” I whisper under my breath. I absorb my friends' fear and power courses through me. My senses are supercharged, and I can hear the SWAT team making its way up the stairs.

I glance out the window just as an orange plume explodes out of a sniper's rifle from across the street. Everything slows down. Way down. Grabbing Kent and Yvonne, I pull them away from the window a fraction of a second before a bullet shatters it.