Infiltration
Authors: Kevin Hardman
INFILTRATION
“That’s not Fred!” Gorgon Son shouted, pointing at me.
The White Wyrm and Grain Brain suddenly looked in my direction. Gorgon Son clearly was about to charge, and Diabolist Mage pointed his staff at me.
I threw a grenade towards the White Wyrm and Grain Brain; they both dove for cover, scrambling to get behind some computer equipment. I phased myself and the box containing Rune as Gorgon Son dove at me. He passed through without making contact with anything and smacked his head on a worktable that was behind me.
The Diabolist shot a beam of purple light my way, but it passed right through me. This time, however, I felt something — like the beam had tickled me a little. It occurred to me then that maybe Diabolist Mage had gotten enough power to somehow affect me in my insubstantial form. It was not a prospect I relished.
At that moment, the grenade went off, blasting a hole in the floor and sending shrapnel and shards of stone everywhere. Something grazed the Diabolist just below the eye, making him jerk his head to the side in pain. When he looked my way again, I saw a jagged red line near his cheekbone that was starting to weep blood.
The Diabolist gingerly put a finger to his cheek, flinching when he touched the wound. He gave me an absolutely murderous look. Near the computer equipment they had hidden behind, the White Wyrm and Grain Brain were just getting to their feet, as was Gorgon Son. They, too, all looked as though they’d like to bite my eyeballs out. Obviously, I had overstayed my welcome.
“Toodles,” I said, holding up a hand and giving a little finger wave. I wrapped Rune, box and all, in my power and tried to teleport us to safety.
Nothing happened.
Kid Sensation Novels
Sensation: A Superhero Novel
Mutation (A Kid Sensation Novel)
Infiltration (A Kid Sensation Novel)
The Warden Series
Warden (Book 1: Wendigo Fever)
Warden (Book 2: Lure of the Lamia)
Short Stories
Extraction: A Kid Sensation Story
INFILTRATION
A Kid Sensation Novel
By
Kevin Hardman
This book is a work of fiction contrived by the author, and is not meant to reflect any actual or specific person, place, action, incident or event. Any resemblance to incidents, events, actions, locales or persons, living or dead, factual or fictional, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Kevin Hardman.
Cover Design by Isikol
This book is published by I&H Recherche Publishing.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address I&H Recherche Publishing, P.O. Box 1586, Cypress, TX 77410.
ISBN: 978-1-937666-17-0
Printed in the U.S.A.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank the following for their help with this book: GOD, first and foremost (as always) who has continually provided me with strength and guidance; and my family, which has always offered immeasurable encouragement and support.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 1
I was actually having a good day until I heard the words no guy ever wants his girlfriend to say:
“We need to talk.”
Even worse, my girlfriend Electra hadn’t said it to me directly. Instead, she had left it as a message on my cell phone, along with a time and place to meet after school.
Her call had come in while I was in class. In accordance with school policy, I had left my phone in my locker. Thus, I didn’t get her message until my lunch break.
Needless to say, I was in something of a funk for the rest of the day. Not that anyone really noticed; I had always been a bit of a loner, and now that I was back at my old high school, I had fallen back into my regular pattern of keeping to myself.
In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have been here at all. Instead, I would have been attending school at the Academy — the prestigious high school that served as a training ground for teens with super powers. Unfortunately, the Academy was gone now — completely destroyed — and as a result, super teens the world over found themselves attending traditional high schools. (At least for now. Word on the street was that various superhero teams were coming up with options to help teens with powers attend “alternative” schools that would pick up our educations where the Academy left off.)
For me, the change was barely worth noting. I only got to attend the Academy for a few weeks before the place was obliterated, so coming back to my old school for my junior year wasn’t a big deal. For Electra, though, the change was a seismic shift.
As an orphan raised by the Alpha League — the world’s greatest superhero team — she had never spent much time in the company of “normal” kids (not to mention that her last two years of formal schooling had taken place at the Academy). Thus, there was a bit of a culture shock when she started attending a regular high school: how they talked, how they dressed, etc.
That said, it didn’t take her long to fit in. Within a week, she was one of the most popular girls in school and accepted by the most prominent cliques on campus. Thankfully, we didn’t attend the same school, which might have made things awkward.
Of course, I dreaded what the end of the day would bring, mostly because I already had an idea of what Electra wanted to talk about. Thus, after the last bell of the day rang, I slowly dragged myself to my car and headed to our rendezvous point — a diner called Jackman’s, which was owned by a couple of former superhero sidekicks.
My car was a boxy little number given to me as a gift by my mother and grandfather, a kind of thanks-for-not-getting-killed present after the Academy went belly-up. It was good for getting from place to place, but — at ten years old and with almost 200,000 miles on the odometer — it was far from anyone’s idea of a dream ride. Moreover, with my power set, a car was really a superfluous expense. Frankly speaking, it would probably have been years before I even thought about getting a vehicle, had it not been for a singularly embarrassing incident over the course of the previous summer: in essence, after arranging my first date with Electra and agreeing to pick her up, it came to light that I didn’t know how to drive.
Since then, I’d been on a tear in terms of getting comfortable behind the wheel of a car. Aside from my brief sojourn at the Academy, my grandfather had given me driving lessons almost daily until I was able to get a permit two weeks ago. That same day, I’d returned home from the DMV to find that Mom and Gramps had gotten me a new car (“new” being a relative term). Again, it wasn’t the trendy sports car that most guys my age dream of, but it was getting the job done.
*********************************
I arrived at Jackman’s about ten minutes after our designated meeting time. Electra was already sitting at a booth, head down as she apparently typed out a text message on her cell phone. She was wearing jeans, sandals, and a light blue blouse. Her hair, naturally straight and dark, was pulled back into a ponytail, except for a couple of recently-added blond streaks that hung down in front and gently framed her face. As usual, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she was blessed with an inherent beauty that didn’t require any kind of artificial enhancement. On the table in front of her sat a quartet of stacked saucers, a basket of tortilla chips, and a dipping bowl full of warm, melted cheese.
“You’re late,” she said without looking up from her phone as I slid into the seat across from her.
“Traffic,” I countered as I grabbed a saucer and helped myself to some chips. “Thanks for ordering the chips and queso.”
She placed the phone on the tabletop and gave me an appraising stare. “You can teleport and you have super speed. You’ve got no business being late for anything.”
“I also have a jalopy now that I use regularly so I can get used to driving.”
Electra groaned slightly, then gave me an odd look as she took a few moments to mentally prepare herself for what she needed to say. Sensing her emotions, I already knew what was coming.
“Look,” she said after taking a deep breath, “there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to put it out there. I think we’ve been trying, but things just aren’t working out.”
“I know,” I said, lowering my eyes.
“I think you’re just too used to being by yourself, Jim. You’ve been doing things on your own for so long that you don’t know how to incorporate others and include them.”