Superhero by Night Omnibus

by Jeffery H. Haskell

  I knew what she meant. I couldn’t talk to her here. Not without blowing my mission. I sighed and nodded. I turned away and the moment I took my eyes off her, she vanished, gone as if she were never there. Had I imagined her?

  Regardless, there was work to be done. I put my guns back in their holsters and pulled the tanto from its sheath in the small of my back. I stepped off the edge, letting my weight take me a few feet down before reaching out to the bright spot above his head—

  —and I was there, wrapping my legs around his neck and driving the six-inch blade deep into his chest. My thighs tightened around his throat, preventing him from crying out as I rode him to the ground in a silent roller coaster of death.

  Then it happened.

  Exhilaration rushed into me. Like my first kiss mixed with the first time I drove a car, except dialed up to ten. My skin tightened, and goosebumps spread out all over me. I had to put a hand over my mouth to keep from making any noise. I had just killed a man and I felt better, more alive, than I ever had in my whole damn life. I took a step back deeper into the shadows to give myself a second to recover.

  What the hell was that?

  My immediate response was that I wanted more. It was like the best caffeine high I had ever felt. I ran out of the shadows, moving even faster than I had when I crossed the field. I saw through the first-floor window into a dark room and immediately teleported into the shadows inside. Intellectually, I knew the room was near pitch black, but I could see as if the sun shone above me.

  There were five people in the three-story building: two of them were outside this room talking in hushed whispers, the other three were on the second floor.

  “Damn, I wish we could have broken these girls in! Did you see that one with the melons? Girl had headlights bro. Daaaamn.”

  My stomach turned as I realized what they were talking about. The last little bit of resistance to killing every one of them crumbled as they spoke about kidnapped girls like they were cattle.

  Guns were too good for them. They didn’t just need to die—they needed to die slowly and painfully, and to know why they were dying. A growl escaped my lips and the ferocity of it stunned even me.

  “What was that?” I heard from the other side of the door.

  I reached down and pulled the knives from both my boots, flipping them backward with the edge running parallel to my forearm. The door opened, and I charged, kicking the door as hard as I could just above the handle. It exploded outward in a million pieces. The man who opened it screamed as my foot blasted through the door into his arm, snapping it in half with a vicious crack of broken bone. I slashed out, slicing his jugular, silencing his scream and turning it into a gurgle. I dropped, spun, and swept the feet out from under his companion, the one who had spoken.

  My knees hit his gut as I landed on him, crossing the blades over his throat as he exhaled from the blow. “Please,” he wheezed.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard that from a lot of women… I’ll give you the same answer you gave them!” His eyes went wide. I slashed his throat, but not deep enough to sever the artery, just enough that he would choke to death on his own blood. I jumped up from him and ran for the stairs. The other three were one floor above me; the soft click of gun safeties going off and slides banging against metal as bullets were loaded into barrels lent me speed.

  The exhilaration hit me again, like a tidal wave, rolling up behind me and carrying me up the stairs seven at a time.

  Get a grip girl.

  I didn’t care—the feeling was overwhelming, overcoming my natural caution like a stimulant. I hit the top of the stairs, crashed through the door and spun as I threw my knives in either direction. Two blades struck home on targets I barely saw. The blades bit deep into their chests, ending their lives. I charged to my right, pulling my tanto.

  Around the corner a gun fired, taking chunks of the wall out above me, but I was already rolling, coming up on my knee and flinging my blade into his knee. He screamed. I jumped up and snap kicked his gun hand. My strength was such that I bashed his hand into the wall, breaking every bone in it along with part of the wall. I didn’t care. I was on a roll, a high, and at that moment I wanted two things.

  “Where is she?” I roared into his face, unable to control my volume. My vision flickered back to normal for a moment so I could make out his face. The room flashed blue like lightning had struck but I ignored it for now.

  “Who?”

  He played dumb. I wasn’t amused. I reached out to his good hand, grabbed his wrist and twisted. I was far stronger than I should have been; I snapped his arm like a twig and he hollered even louder. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sank to the ground. I followed him down, reaching for my knife and yanking it out. He whimpered as pain overwhelmed him.

  “Don’t make me ask again.”

  He nodded. “Okay, okay, don’t kill me alright? She’s gone.”

  My heart stopped. Had they killed her? I was going to end him. The anger must have shown in my eyes because he backpedaled fast.

  “No. No. No. We sent the shipment out early—she’s in Canadian waters by now, on her way to eastern Europe where they distribute most of our product. The ship is called the Curly Sue.”

  Even as the high if the other men dying hit, a cold calm washed over me—he probably thought it was a good thing.

  “Product? Shipment? They’re human beings! They have family, friends, brothers and sisters, do you ever think about that?”

  “Law of the jungle—it’s not personal, just the hand they’ve been dealt. We—”

  I punched him. Then again. And again. I punched him until his chest stopped rising. I punched until my knuckles hurt. Until the floorboard underneath him cracked from me hitting the bare wood. With my blood covered hand, I wrote my message on the wall above his body.

  NO MORE

  The next wave of exhilaration hit me as I left the building, but I was too angry to enjoy it. Instead, I was running as fast as my enhanced powers would let me. The ship couldn’t be too far away; I had to hurry.

  Chapter 31

  Even with my enhanced night vision and standing on top of a stack of containers, I couldn’t see a ship north or south… Maybe I could find the port authority? Or call the police? But Canada is only a stone’s throw away. Couldn’t they just slip into Canadian waters and disappear?

  It occurred to me I knew nothing of how the Great Lakes worked or how far away the ocean was… or anything about the area, really. I decided on a course of action and ran down toward the docks—there could be a clue to their location down there. If I couldn’t find anything then I would simply call the police and hope for the best.

  I climbed down from the containers, darted under the cranes that were used to stack them, and ran over the train tracks and down the access road. I almost giggled, despite my worry, as I ran down to the docks. I wasn’t even winded. The euphoria had passed, leaving me strangely buzzed. Like I had a couple of good beers in me.

  Movement to my left caught my attention and I pulled up sharp, skidding on the dirt. Somehow, both guns were in my hands, cocked and loaded, pointing where I had heard the noise. The shadows faded as my enhanced vision kicked in.

  That’s when Spice appeared.

  “This way,” she whispered. Then she turned and ran north, away from the docks and slightly parallel to the river. I was too stunned to follow until she stopped, turned around and winked at me the way Spice always did when she shared a joke with me. She ran again.

  I ran after her. The uneven ground didn’t even slow me down as I climbed the little berm before the road. After a minute of following her, I was back at the main office. Spice wasn’t anywhere to be seen. A large map of the entire port area, along with the lakes themselves, was clearly visible on the side of the old wooden wall.

  I’m an idiot.

  This is what I get for not knowing the territory. There is only one way out of the Great Lakes. One canal where locks equalize the water levels for passing ships
, raising and lowering them as needed. They are jointly run by the US and Canada. If I called the police and had evidence for them to act on, maybe they could stop the ship. Maybe. Or they could hem and haw for a few days and by then my friend would be on her way to Dubai, or wherever the hell they sold white slaves. No thank you.

  I took off in a run for my bike, my feet pounding the ground and my lungs burning with each step. I wasn’t going to let them get away with this. I passed through the remains of the Fort and then into the parking lot where I left the shiny red Ducati. The bike fired up instantly, tires squealing as I gunned the engine and laid a long line of rubber heading North East along the road.

  I pulled out my cell phone and dialed nine-one-one. I also didn’t want them to cover it up

  “9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

  “The Wraith just wiped out a human trafficking gang at the docks.” I gave her the address before I tossed my phone into oncoming traffic. The plastic exploded against the grill of a cement truck.

  A few minutes later I heard sirens as the police converged on the area. Too late to take me in, but hopefully fast enough that no one could cover up what happened. With that taken care of I weaved my way through evening traffic, keeping one eye on the waterways, looking for the Curly Sue. Even with my enhanced vision, the ships were too far out for me to make out any names on their hulls. The ships weren’t going very fast: all I could really do was get ahead and wait for it. On top of that, there was probably a line at the locks… I grinned. Oh, I had a great idea. The bike roared as I twisted the throttle all the way.

  An hour later I slammed on the brakes, screeching my tires as I came to a stop in front of Joseph’s house. I needed to make a few preparations, and I needed a few things from his armory. I stormed in through the front door over to the mantle and pushed the picture back. He had said I could do whatever I wanted. Detroit was his city, not mine, and I doubted I’d be back here anytime soon. The Wraith was going to make a spectacular exit from the motor city.

  I reloaded all my ammo, grabbed the anti-tank weapon, and pocketed as much cash as I could before I left. I grabbed the bike and smirked. I’d been in the basement an hour and no one even got close to the bike. This neighborhood knew who he was, even if they didn’t admit it. Not that there was much of a community left. Maybe after I cleaned up New Orleans I’d come back here and finish what Joseph started.

  Chapter 32

  The GPS said four-hours to Buffalo, New York. Lucky for me, I’m riding a Ducati. I tore out of Joseph’s place for what I believed would be the last time. Tires spinning, spitting smoke behind me as I went. I was on the freeway within minutes. I had to go through Cleveland and a dozen other little towns on my way to rescue Krisan.

  I thought of Spice, my family, my one-time friends, all gone now. All in the past. Was I happy?

  I’d beat a man to death with my bare hands. I lost count of how many I had shot, stabbed, and thrown out windows. The shock of what I had done slammed into me like a ten-ton hammer.

  Not with shame, or remorse, but from the complete lack of those things. Was I a sociopath? Is that why I never felt happy as a kid? I left home to be a model because it was something I thought I could do really well. If I’m honest with myself, and I like to think I am, I’m attractive—not just sexually, but aesthetically. At least until that ass-hat put a sword through me leaving a six-inch scar in the middle of my chest.

  I dodged to the right of a large milk-hauler, spurring the bike to even higher speeds as I passed the smiling cow on the side.

  My career, such as it was, was over. My last paying gig was my last gig. Twenty-seven might as well be forty-seven when it came to modeling. Thinking back to my homecoming with Spice and my family, I truly had no plans for what to do next.

  Fate had certainly stepped in.

  I just wished I could have saved Spice. Sara was such a joy to me—more than I had ever realized at the time. Our late night chats via Facebook and Skype really kept me going when I was low—which was all the time.

  I had spent my life sleepwalking and now, for the first time ever, I felt alert, awake, aware. It was just too bad I had to become a killer to feel this way.

  I pulled my thoughts out of that place and focused on the now. There would be time enough for navel-gazing later.

  Midnight came fast. My eyelids drooped as I pulled into the little motel by the Buffalo lock. It wasn’t much—just nine rooms that had seen better days before I was born. To my surprise, neither the desk clerk or the couple I passed on the way to my room batted an eye at the anti-tank weapon Joseph had called an “AT-4” I carried slung on my back. Maybe they thought it was an artist tube? I didn’t exactly fit the bill for the terrorist type.

  I tossed a hundred on the counter when the slovenly, half asleep man came up.

  “Uh… It’s forty-nine a night, plus tax. How many nights?” As he spoke, he let out a long yawn that filled the air with his foul cigarette breath.

  “One night, no registration,” I said holding my hands out for the keys. When he didn’t budge, I tossed another hundred on the counter. That got him moving. With a greedy smile, he snatched a key off the wall and slapped it down on the counter.

  “Room Seven. Be out by eight am. My boss does a room check.”

  I nodded, swiping the key with one hand. I was already heading for the door before he could say anything else. He had time to whistle at me and earn a death stare as I shut the door. Apparently, my death stares have upgraded because he went white as a sheet.

  I checked my new burner phone; I had six hours until the ship was scheduled to hit the lock. I tossed everything in the corner, pushed a chair in front of the door, flipped the little table up so it covered the window, then fell face first into bed. My day caught up with me in a hurry—a weight of exhaustion came down on me and I fought a losing battle to stay awake.

  You don’t have to be tired, just go shoot the front desk guy…

  That thought brought a smile to my face, but I was too tired to act on it.

  Chapter 33

  The setting sun behind me caused the shadows to stretch out for hundreds of feet toward the east. It had taken me some time, but finding the Coast Guard page on the Curly Sue had paid off. Now I knew her route, destination, and crew complement, and had even managed to download a schematic. It might be their boat, but I knew it well enough to even the odds.

  I was at the north end of the Buffalo lock, cradled in an alcove with my coat pulled tight around me, waiting for the cargo ship to pass underneath. It would be a hundred-foot drop, which wasn’t something I could survive. If I could spot one of the slavers and they were near a shadow… I could just shadow-step to them. I wasn’t quite sure how my newfound powers worked, but that felt right. Like, I could do that.

  My enhanced strength and speed had left me during the night. I woke up shaking, exhausted and ready to go back to sleep. The only reason I didn’t was coffee and lots of it.

  Like a lot a lot.

  Now I just waited. It was good to know that my powers wore off after a bit. At least a few hours. I was too consumed with the euphoria of using them while I was killing all those mobsters to worry about what would happen if they stopped working. Part of me knew they weren’t permanent, but I was starting to see maybe why Joseph quit.

  An alarm rang out over the lock. The ship chugged along, looking like any of a hundred other cargo ships that passed this way. How did no one know about her cargo of people? It boggled my mind that in this day and age slavery was still very much alive and that no one talked about it.

  You can’t save everyone. My dad’s voice came back so clear that for a second, I thought he was there. No, I can’t save everyone, can I? Most of all the people who matter most to me.

  But I can save these people. If I have to kill everyone on that ship to do it, I will. They made their choice. You don’t accidentally get involved in human trafficking. A flicker of awareness filled me, that maybe I should feel bad about what I wa
s planning. Then I saw Spice in my mind as if she were in one of those containers and what would be waiting for her on the other side…

  Well, screw that.

  The bow of the ship passed beneath me and I steeled myself for what was next. A literal leap of faith if I ever heard of one.

  I heard the engines growl as the bow thrusters churned the water and the huge vessel came to an assisted stop. On either side were tugboats I needed to be aware of. I wouldn’t get justice by killing innocent people.

  Once the ship stopped, the lock began to close behind it. A wave of something—nausea almost, but not quite—swept over me as I watched tens of thousands of gallons of water fill the lock.

  I shook my head. I needed to focus. I stepped over to the other side of the crane I hid in. I saw more of the ship this way and could even make out figures on the deck. What I needed was someone off by themselves, near a deep shadow, just like that guy in the red jacket.

  I cracked my neck, then stepped off. Air rushed by me as I free fell toward the deck. My feet dangled in the air below me and the deck flew up. I reached into my mind and I found that spot, like an itch between my shoulder blades. It was hard to find.

  But I did.

  The world vanished in darkness before it came back brighter than before. My feet hit the man square on his head, snapping his neck instantly and crumpling him to the ground. I landed in a crouch, with my hands out wide for balance.

  When no alarms went off and there were no shouts of concern, I searched him. I removed his radio, plugging myself into their network. The earpiece slipped on and I attached the radio itself to my belt. He also had a Glock 17 on him, which I emptied before taking apart and tossing. No need to let the bad guys have more guns than me.