by Barry Lyga
And … to record it. Kyle checked the video camera. It was fine. He got off the bike and rolled it to the edge of the cornfield. Going by his memory of that night, he aimed the camera at the spot where Mighty Mike would touch down, then switched on the camera. He waited. As he watched, he saw another version of himself walk into frame. A thrill of excitement went through him. He remembered this so well — coming to the field to set up the prank. And then the light from the sky …
“Kyle, we have a problem.”
“What do you mean? It worked. We make one more jump and we’re home.”
“Check the chronovessel.”
Kyle opened the gas tank. A cloud of noxious, noisome smoke poured out. The Mad Mask’s makeshift supercomputer was nothing more than melted slag.
“Oh, man …” He gnawed at a fingernail for a moment. “Okay, let’s see…. Look, we’re almost back in the present. We could just wait a few weeks and we’d catch up to present, right?”
“That’s probably not a good idea. Right at this instant, there are two of you. Who knows what kind of time paradox that could create?”
“Okay, then I go steal some stuff and build another supercomputer to replace the missing one. We’re almost back to the present — we’ll be able to get the components we need.”
“No. That could cause another paradox. The stuff you steal might be needed elsewhere down the line.”
“But if our trip to the past has taught us anything,” Kyle said, “it’s that everything I did back then was supposed to happen anyway. So if I go steal some stuff now —”
“If our trip to the past taught us anything,” Erasmus chided, “it’s that we got lucky. Maybe you were always supposed to be the cause of Sammy Monroe leaving Bouring or your grandmother’s statue breaking. Who knows? Maybe it was supposed to be something else, though. There were decades for those things to happen. If you hadn’t dropped the statue, there were twenty years and more for someone else to do it. If you hadn’t gotten Sammy in trouble, he had plenty of time to do it to himself. But right now, time is short. Literally. There’s only a few weeks between right now and our present. If you screw something up, there’s no way for the timestream to fix it.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? It’s not like there’s a supercomputer just lying around that I can use.”
“There’s one,” Erasmus told him, his voice more serious than Kyle had ever heard before. “Just one.”
And then Kyle realized what Erasmus meant. “No!” he shouted. “No way! You’ll …!” He thought of the twisted, melted wreck of circuitry he’d hauled out of the guts of the chronovessel. He couldn’t let Erasmus … “There’s no way I’m going to let you do that! I won’t install you in the bike. No.”
“Kyle, it’s the only way.” Erasmus’s voice was gentle.
“Well, tough. Because you don’t have hands and I won’t do it.”
“You have to. It’s the only way to get you back home. I know you have a lot of faith in Mairi, but what if she doesn’t get to the lighthouse? What if Mighty Mike won’t help her? What if they don’t find the clue or figure out the clue? You need to be back in the present so that you can stop Lundergaard’s plan and save Bouring.”
“Not if it means you die.”
“You made me based on yourself, Kyle. As long as you’re alive, I can’t die.”
Kyle thought he felt a tear or two coming on and frowned until the feeling went away. Crying wasn’t going to help anyone right now. Erasmus was right. Kyle knew he was right. But he wanted more than anything for Erasmus to be wrong. To be so, so wrong. He had already lost so much. Ever since that plasma storm transformed him, Kyle had lost his standing as the most popular kid in Bouring, his best friend, his own time period … and now he had to lose Erasmus, too?
He screamed. Just once. Just one loud, anguished scream to the heavens.
And then he said, very quietly, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Wire me in,” Erasmus said.
Kyle crouched down by the motorbike and opened the gas tank. He nestled Erasmus in there as gently as he could, then took a deep breath and made the wiring connections necessary.
“You good?” he asked, shutting the tank.
“All systems online. Everything is green. I’ll stay in touch with you via your earpiece for … well, for as long as I can.”
“Can’t we —”
“No. Now. I’m losing a lot of power. If we don’t go now, we don’t go at all.”
Kyle threw his leg over the chronovessel and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Activate in three … two …”
Kyle hit the button as Erasmus said, “One.”
As the world exploded again, Kyle thought he heard Erasmus say, “Good-bye.”
The chronovessel sizzled and crackled with electrical sparks as it dropped out of the timestream and back into normal reality. The first thing Kyle saw was the video camera mounted on the handlebars — it had finally surrendered to the rigors of time travel. It looked like a wax version of a video camera that had been left out in the sun.
The second thing he saw was the readout screen. Which told him that he was back in the present, mere hours after he’d left. It was more than the seconds he’d planned, but hopefully still in time to save Bouring.
“We did it, Erasmus!” he shouted. “We did it! We’re home!”
No answer.
Kyle tapped his earpiece to make sure it was still working.
Oh, no.
He dismounted from the motorbike and ripped open the gas tank.
The circuitry there was a melted mass of shiny copper and plastic. Erasmus’s blue-flame paint job had cracked and peeled.
“No,” Kyle said. “No, no, no, no, no!”
He pried Erasmus out of the mess, only to find that half of the AI stayed behind, fused to the other useless junk inside.
Erasmus was gone.
Kyle dropped to his knees. He couldn’t believe it. Erasmus was gone. And what did Kyle have to show for it? Yes, he’d traveled in time. But he hadn’t been able to change his history with Mairi. And the video camera was destroyed, so his original idea to videotape Mighty Mike’s arrival was dead, too. He had traveled in time for nothing.
All he had left was revenge.
He clenched his fists. Lundergaard. He would stop Walter Lundergaard. No matter what.
He soared into the air and flew at top speed to the other side of town. Below him, Bouring seemed frozen, more like a photograph of a town than an actual town. All that moved were the zombies, which seemed to notice him high up in the air, sensing his movement more than actually seeing him. As he flew overhead, they streamed into the streets, following him.
At the time capsule burial site, all was chaos. Throngs of zombies packed the area, stepping over and around the stiff, still bodies of those who were stopped in time. There, in the middle of it all, was Walter Lundergaard, his clothing burned away now by the power of the special circuitry-suit he wore beneath. Collecting all of that energy. Kyle could barely look in his direction. So much power, collected in one place. And this, Kyle knew, was only one end of a pipeline that stretched back to 1987, where another Lundergaard waited for the moment that would yank him through time.
And possibly destroy the universe.
Okay, Kyle, enough thinking. Time for action.
With a bird’s-eye view, Kyle quickly spotted the area reserved for 1987. It sported the largest cluster of zombies, with more and more of them flowing into the area.
In the middle of them was Mighty Mike. Kyle could just barely make out the shine of his cape and suit. He was struggling against the zombies as he stood in a deep hole. For every zombie he flung back, he would get a few seconds to dig a bit deeper before more would attack him. He looked bad — not nearly as strong or as fast as he usually was.
It looked like Mike had gotten the clue Kyle left behind in 1987. He was digging for the LuBKiG as fast as he could.
The zombies get their po
wers from the same energy as Mighty Mike — they’re sapping his superpowers! When his powers are all gone, he’ll freeze up like anyone else.
Furthermore, Kyle realized, even if Mike survived the zombies, the LuBKiG would destroy his powers. It was designed to remove the zombie powers; it would do the same to Mike’s … and to Kyle’s, if he was in range.
Kyle looked around. Once Mighty Mike got to the LuBKiG, everything would be fixed. And, hey — Mighty Mike wouldn’t be so mighty anymore, either. Score! In the meantime, before Kyle got out of range, he had to find …
Mairi! There she was — in the high branches of a nearby tree, struggling to climb into lower branches. Kyle’s lip curled. What was she doing? She should stay where it was safe!
But of course not. Not Mairi. She wanted to help Mighty Mike. Even though a single zombie touch would — as far as she knew — freeze her forever. But Mairi wouldn’t just think of herself. She was too good for that.
Just like Erasmus hadn’t thought of himself, making the ultimate sacrifice to get Kyle home. Just like Jack Stanley had volunteered to stay in 1987 and grow old by now, all to help the people of the present.
Just like Danny had helped Kyle steal those tools and break into the school, even though he could have gotten caught and gotten another chewing out from Gramps.
Heck, even Max Monroe had tried to stop Sammy from beating up Danny.
Fortune favors the audacious.
So, what’s it going to be, Kyle? he asked himself as he watched Mighty Mike dig down a little farther. Does everyone get to be a hero except for you?
More and more zombies poured into the burial site. It looked as though almost everyone in Bouring was here.
Mairi was halfway down the tree.
Erasmus turned out to be a hero. And he was based on me. So maybe that means …
Now or never, Kyle thought.
He pulled on his dad’s ski mask and dove as fast as he could, before he could change his mind, barreling right into the mass of zombies surrounding Mighty Mike.
The numbing effect hit him immediately. His top speed dropped and it was only the force of gravity that kept him going. His strength, sapped, was no longer as super as it had been mere moments ago.
Mike seemed shocked to find Kyle in the hole with him. Kyle spun quickly, tossing several zombies out of the pit. “Get out of here,” he snarled at Mike. “Hurry.”
Mike’s eyes widened. He couldn’t recognize Kyle in his father’s hand-me-downs and ski mask, but he knew that voice. “Blue Freak …”
“It’s the Azure Avenger. Make sure they get it right on my statue,” Kyle said with a bravado he didn’t really feel. From all the zombie touches, he felt weaker than he’d felt since getting his powers. He still had a little ways down to dig, too.
“What are you doing here?” Mike asked. He was breathing hard and heavy, having difficulty catching his breath. Kyle felt bad for him for the first time ever.
“Saving your butt,” Kyle said. “And the world. Because you can’t seem to get it done.”
“I —”
“I don’t have time to argue,” Kyle said. He grabbed Mike by the arm and lifted him up. Then, with all the strength in his body, he hurled Mike out of the pit and as far to the west as he could. He was pretty sure he’d gotten Mike out of the impact area of the LuBKiG. And he was pretty sure Mike had just enough invulnerability left to survive.
Pretty sure.
He dug into the dirt, his muscles sore and aching for the first time in so long. It was a good thing Mike had already dug down so far. Kyle wouldn’t have been able to make it these last couple of feet, not with the zombies draining his powers. He hated to admit it, but he and Mighty Mike had made a pretty good team.
Zombies dived into the hole and every touch of their fingers and palms and feet sapped his strength, made him feel like he was walking through hip-high snowdrifts.
But then he saw it.
The LuBKiG.
He could barely make out the top of it, covered now in only a scattering of dirt and loose pebbles. Kyle reached out for it, fighting against a tide of zombie bodies sapping his strength, his speed, his movement, his life.
And then he thought, What if it doesn’t work?
He imagined Erasmus saying snarkily, “Well, you built it, so I’d say the odds are about fifty-fifty.”
Kyle laughed to himself, even though he was trapped in a pit with zombies. His hands brushed away the dirt and touched the top of the LuBKiG.
And the world went violently white and loud.
Kyle blinked. Spots chased other spots before him, obscuring his vision, making it almost impossible to see. A great roar filled his ears.
Eventually, the roar quieted. He heard moans instead.
As his vision cleared, he saw that he was still in the pit. The zombies weren’t zombies anymore — they were all groaning and trying to pull themselves away from one another. Kyle looked up from the pit, to the sky, and told himself to fly away, but he knew even as he thought it that it wouldn’t happen.
His powers were gone. Strength. Invulnerability. Flight.
Superintellect.
Gone.
He was just Kyle again.
And his back was killing him. Wow. Pain. His whole body was sore, strained, like he’d just done way too many push-ups in gym class.
Before anyone else in the pit could react, he clambered over them — apologizing for the occasional foot in someone’s face — and hauled himself out of the pit. He looked around. The entire town of Bouring was here, basically looking like a bunch of people who’ve just woken up from the same bad nightmare. Kyle pushed a few people aside, knocking them over. It wasn’t polite, but he had to get out of here. His ski mask wouldn’t hide his identity from anyone who knew him well. Like Mairi, for example.
Mairi who was now almost out of the tree.
Kyle ran off, but suddenly he heard a voice call out, “Help! Help me! Please!”
He stopped. Looked around. Off to one side, there was a young woman stuck under a light pole that had fallen. It was on her leg and she couldn’t move it. With all the chaos, it could be hours before someone got to her.
Well, hero? What are you going to do about it?
Kyle sighed and ran over to her. She stared at his mask, but said nothing as he pushed and strained and heaved against the light pole. Five minutes ago, he was strong enough to pick this up with his pinky and toss it a mile. Now …
After much grunting and sweating, he managed to move it just enough that she could pull her leg out from under. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so —”
But she couldn’t finish — Kyle had already run off into the darkness.
Mairi took a deep breath and held it as the doctor stitched up her arm. She didn’t need a lot of stitches — just ten — and he’d numbed the arm already, but even the mere thought of someone sewing her skin made her a little squeamish. Not very squeamish. Just a little.
Oh, this is ridiculous, she thought. You just survived a plague of the world’s most bizarre zombies. You can handle a little stitching.
She blew out her breath.
“There,” the doctor said after a moment. “Good as new.” He taped a bandage over the area. “Keep it clean and dry. Bring her back in a week,” he said to her parents.
Mairi’s mom nodded, and her dad gathered her up in his arms, even though she was way too big and too old for such childish nonsense. “Dad, come on. I’m fine. I’m not the one who was turned into a zombie.”
“We almost lost you,” he told her.
“No, I almost lost you, but I saved the day.”
Mairi’s mom shook her head. “Darling, we’ve talked about exaggerating the truth before. Mighty Mike saved the day.”
Mairi fumed and struggled until her dad put her down. Mighty Mike wouldn’t even have known where to go for help if it hadn’t been for her! He wouldn’t have been able to … to …
What had he done? It had been several hour
s since the zombie plague suddenly ended. No one could get close to the 1987 time capsule burial site, so Mairi didn’t know what Mike had found down there that rescued everyone. But it was something, she knew. She had watched him flail his way through the zombies and dig up the 1987 plot. And then she’d lost track for a moment while she negotiated a particularly tricky set of branches on her way down from the tree, and the next thing she — or anyone else — knew, there was a white flash of light and suddenly everyone who’d been “frozen” by the zombies was unfrozen and all of the zombies were dazed and staggering around as if they’d just been slapped with bricks.
So Mike had saved everyone. Again.
“With my help,” Mairi insisted to her parents.
“Of course, dear,” Mom said, thinking Mairi couldn’t see her rolling her eyes.
But Mairi could see it. And she didn’t like being patronized. She had done something heroic and dangerous, but got no credit for it. No one else could possibly understand how that made her feel.
Since I no longer possess the capacity to cipher my journal, this entry — my last — will have to be in open text. As a result, I will be speaking obliquely about certain matters.
Well, I’m back from my … trip. It’s strange to be here and to feel so normal. It’s been a long time since I felt normal.
Once again, Mighty Mike is receiving credit for “saving the town,” even though I have knowledge that, in fact, someone else was responsible for saving Bouring. Once again, Mighty Mike stumbles into his reward.
But you know what?
That’s okay.
With the zombies gone, Mighty Mike’s powers have returned and he’s once again patrolling the skies of Bouring and beyond. Rescuing dogs from sewer drains. Moving trees felled by storms. Stopping fender benders.
Good for him. Really. I mean it. The world needs its heroes.
What I care about is this: My parents are okay. My town is okay. Mairi is okay and maybe someday I’ll even find a way to talk to her again.
One additional bit of good news — when I pried open the melted video camera with an awl and chisel, I found that the tape itself had survived. So that’s a good thing. There’s really no reason for it now, but I will watch it.
