Hero Force United Boxed Set 1

by Baron Sord

  “Move!” Kristy shouted at some new bystander who hadn’t gotten the memo and was wandering a bit too close for comfort. “This is a live power line! Get back!”

  The bystander just stood there.

  “MOVE YOUR ASS BACK TO YOUR CAR!” Kristy shouted and continued running the second wire up the side road. She left it laying alongside the first with a gap of a few feet between them. Went back for the last.

  The river of gas was almost on top of it.

  Only a few more feet before it touched the last power line.

  Kristy jumped through the air, flying across 40 or more feet before landing, lunging, grabbing, and yanking the power line away from the gas a second before they touched. She ran the line up the side road and laid it down near the other two.

  Phew!

  Finally.

  That was done.

  Wait, the driver!

  If something else ignited the gas, the driver’s life was in danger!

  No smoking! For real!

  Kristy ran back to the cab and hopped on top. Reached down to grab the door handle.

  ZAP!

  A spark shot from her fingers to the door handle.

  She yanked her hand back.

  That was weird.

  Must’ve been static electricity.

  Reached out again.

  ZAP!

  Usually once was enough to get rid of your static electricity.

  Kristy tried a third time.

  ZAP!

  What the eff?

  It was then she noticed the rushing vortex in her body and the tingling on her skin that’d started after grabbing the first power line. This time the vortex was different. Each time she’d reached for the door handle, there’d been a quick cold rush down her arm, followed by slow cold rushing from her core out to her arm until the vortex sensations equalized.

  No way.

  Was she a super battery?

  Sure seemed like it.

  Kristy snorted a satisfied laugh.

  Doug was fire and she was electricity?

  Whatever worked.

  Time to help the trapped driver.

  Kristy was about to rip the door off the hinges when she realized she might shock the driver by accident if she touched them. Not from touching the cab, because there was so much insulation between the cab metal and the seat where the driver was belted in. But she needed to touch the driver. Didn’t wanna do that full of electric juice. She might hurt them.

  Kristy jumped from the top of the cab to the road. Looked through the front windshield. The glass was cracked, but not too bad. Kristy could see the lady driver inside.

  She wore a plaid shirt and was buckled in, hanging sideways in her seat, arms dangling down, head hanging at a weird angle.

  That didn’t look good.

  Kristy’s first thought was to push the cab onto its wheels immediately. To do that, she’d have to push the entire rig over. She rushed around between the cab and tanker, and pushed on the frame near where the fifth-wheel coupled both together.

  “Raaaaaaa!” Kristy shouted as she pushed as hard as she could.

  The rig rocked slightly, but not enough to roll it over. Kristy either wasn’t strong enough or didn’t have the leverage. It was probably for the best. Sending the rig banging on its wheels might hurt the lady driver.

  Could she pull the driver out the front window?

  Kristy jogged around to the front of the cab.

  Carefully punched and peeled the windshield away and tossed it onto the road.

  “Guuuuuuh,” the lady driver moaned.

  “I’m here! I’m gonna get you out!” Kristy encouraged. “Hang tight, okay?”

  “Shuuuuuh.”

  Kristy reached out to grab the window frame as she prepared to enter the cab.

  ZAP!

  She was still juiced up. She couldn’t lift the driver out without shocking her.

  That would be bad.

  Kristy needed to dump her vortex of electrical juice. It wasn’t helping anybody. She jumped over the river of gasoline so she didn’t spark it. Somebody needed to do something about that river. It was traveling toward all the hot car engines idling down the hill.

  Jeans Man was keeping the bystanders away from the downed power lines.

  “Hey!” she shouted at him. “I need your help!”

  Jeans Man rushed over.

  “Don’t get too close!” Kristy barked. “I’m juiced up!”

  “You’re what?!” Confused, he halted ten feet away.

  “Never mind!” Kristy said, “See the dirt on the side of the road?” Kristy pointed.

  “What about it?” Jeans Man asked.

  “Get a bunch of people to put the dirt on the gasoline river to soak it up. Use anything you can find to move the dirt. Cups, plates, shovels if anyone has any.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” Jeans Man said and turned to go take action.

  Kristy went over by the power lines. Shouted at the distant crowd, “Everybody stay back!” When they cleared, she squatted down on her boots and reached down with both hands toward the ground.

  ZAP!

  The sparking started when her hands were still four inches away.

  She’d never seen static electricity sparks that big!

  She slapped her hands against the asphalt to complete the circuit.

  The rushing vortex swept down both her arms in a cold chill that gave her goosebumps.

  Kristy let it rush.

  It didn’t take long before she smelled burnt leather.

  Oops.

  Her gloves.

  She hastily broke the circuit, pulled them off, tossed them aside, and put her hands back on the ground.

  Resumed rushing.

  After less than a minute, which was about how long she’d been holding and carrying the three power lines altogether, the rushing slowed to nothing and her arms warmed to normal. No, they’d never been actually cold. More like hormones or whatever. The chills, that kind of thing.

  Kristy put her gloves back on. They were barely charred. That was a plus.

  She ran back to the rig, again jumping over the gas river.

  Jeans Man already had a few people grabbing handfuls of dirt and throwing them onto the gasoline.

  “Cups and plates and shovels!” Kristy shouted.

  “Yeah! On it now!” Jeans Man said. “Just wanted to get them started!”

  “Good,” Kristy nodded and went back to the cab.

  “Fuuuuuh,” the lady driver moaned.

  “Don’t worry,” Kristy said while taking her helmet off, which she set down on the road. “We’ll get you out. What’s your name?”

  “Shaaaaaa.”

  “Sha?” Kristy giggled. “Pretty name. Can I call you Shaw?”

  The lady driver smiled weakly, “Sha-a-uh.” The woman thought, Sherry.

  “Sherry it is,” Kristy giggled.

  She needed a stretcher to support Sherry.

  The ambulances weren’t here yet, so…

  Kristy jumped on top of the cab. Opened the door. Tore it off its hinges with a squeal of metal. Hopped onto the ground holding it. Went to see if she could push it through the open front window frame to put under Sherry and lift her up as gently as possible.

  Nope, too wide.

  She needed something narrower.

  Like an effing stretcher. And one of those neck brace things they always used for car accidents.

  Kristy set the door on the road and looked around.

  Idling cars and trucks in both directions.

  Surfboards!

  This was Southern California. Somebody had to have a surfboard in their car.

  But she didn’t have time to go looking.

  She scanned the exterior of the cab.

  What about the front bumper? It was narrow enough and it was smooth. But it was bolted on. If she ripped it off, it’d leave sharp holes. Could she pull the bolts out with her screwdriver fingernails? How long would that take? Forever. She could
n’t melt the bolts with juice because she’d dumped hers into the road. She could get more from the power lines, but wasn’t there a better option? Not inside the cab. It didn’t have a sleeping compartment. It was just a regular day cab.

  Kristy turned to the crowd and shouted, “Does anybody have a surfboard?! Or an emergency stretcher?! Or a skateboard?! Anything flat like that?!”

  “Gemme outta here!” Sherry groaned from inside the cab.

  Kristy spun around.

  Sherry’s face was bright red from hanging sideways for so long. She was also squirming against her seatbelt. “Lemme out!”

  Kristy rushed over and climbed inside the cab, sliding past the vertical dashboard like it was a piece of furniture on the floor. “Wait! I’ll help you out!”

  Sherry’s shoulders were low enough that Kristy could just get her chest under them and push up. She used one hand to gently support Sherry’s head.

  “Lemme out!” Sherry moaned in fear.

  Kristy shouted out the broken window, “I NEED HELP!”

  Several people rushed over.

  “I need to get her out!” Kristy said.

  A man climbed inside the sideways cab and stood next to Kristy. He said, “I’ve got her.”

  “No, I’ve got her!” Kristy barked. “You undo the seatbelt!”

  “Are you sure? She might be heavy.”

  “Lemme out!” Sherry shouted with more force.

  “Just do it!” Kristy insisted. “Unbuckle her!”

  The man did.

  Sherry slid into Kristy’s arms and she caught the frightened woman under the shoulders and hips.

  “Get out of the cab!” Kristy barked at the man. “I need to move her!”

  He clambered out through the sideways windshield frame.

  “Help hold her head!” Kristy demanded. She was too worried about Sherry to be polite.

  The man reached inside and did as ordered.

  “Let’s walk her out,” Kristy said more calmly to the man. “Go slow. Keep her head straight to her body.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded and did his best.

  Sherry’s legs dragged against the dash before toppling out and dangling over Kristy’s arm.

  Another person in the surrounding crowd outside stepped in and lifted Sherry’s legs to straight as they carried her away from the cab, going up the road and to the side of the gasoline river. They passed a dozen cars and trucks before laying Sherry on the ground between a car and another big rig where there was ample room.

  Kristy squatted down beside Sherry and smoothed her hair.

  Sherry’s face was less red already.

  “Are you okay?” Kristy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sherry said somewhat absently but fully afraid.

  “The ambulances’ll be here any minute,” Kristy encouraged. To the people hovering around her, “Can somebody watch her?” I need to check on the truck.

  Nods and yeses.

  Kristy jogged back to the overturned rig.

  Jeans Man and his team had dammed up the gas river with quite a bit of dirt turning into gasoline mud. They’d made a bucket brigade, using cups, coolers, an actual bucket, some cardboard boxes, and anything that could hold dirt to pass it from the side of the road to where the gasoline was leaking. Two men with shovels were actively digging up dirt to fill everything, but it was slow going the deeper they dug, and they needed more dirt.

  Kristy noticed her helmet. Picked it up.

  Still watching the men, she realized she could out-power either of them. She rushed over. Said to the older man, “Can you hold my helmet while I dig?”

  He wasn’t exactly small for a man, and not that old, maybe 50 or 55, but he wasn’t a body builder and he wasn’t super-strong. He gave Kristy a man look.

  “Trust me,” Kristy grinned. “I can dig faster.”

  “You sure?” Mr. Fifty asked.

  “Totally,” Kristy said, reaching for the shovel.

  He shrugged and let her take it.

  Kristy attacked the dirt with her super-strength.

  Within minutes, she’d made a sizable mound that would take the dirt bucket brigade some time to deplete. She handed the shovel to Mr. Fifty, who was grinning.

  Kristy grinned back, “I’m gonna help fill boxes now. You keep digging. I mean, if you want.”

  Mr. Fifty laughed, “Schooled by little Miss Schoolgirl.”

  “That’s Miss School-teacher to you,” she winked.

  He laughed, “I stand corrected.”

  By the time the fire trucks and ambulances arrived, Kristy and the Jeans Man Team had the gasoline fully dammed. The road was covered with a foot-tall wall of dirt and mud that successfully diverted the flow off into the shoulder opposite from the downed live power lines. She wasn’t worried about the downed dead power lines on the same side. And bonus, at this point, most of the gas had emptied out of the tanker anyway, and was evaporating from the road and soaking into dirt where it wasn’t so dangerous.

  Either way, job well done.

  Kristy retrieved her helmet from where Mr. Fifty had set it down by the dirt pile so he could continue digging.

  “Thanks again for your help,” Kristy smiled.

  “Any time, Teach,” he laughed.

  Kristy went over to thank Jeans Man.

  He saw her coming and gave her a friendly grin, “You sure saved this day, lady.”

  “You mean Lady Liberty,” she winked.

  “Who?” Jeans Man chuckled, wiping sweat from his dusty forehead with his forearm.

  “Lady Liberty. That’s me.”

  He laughed, “What, are you a superhero or something?”

  “Am now,” Kristy grinned.

  —: o o o :—

  Once everything was squared away on the Ortega Highway with the overturned gas rig, and Kristy had nothing pressing to distract her there, her Disaster Vision instantly kicked in.

  Turned out her Friday night was just getting started.

  She ran back to her Ninja and flew to the next trouble spot. The nice thing about the Ninja was it allowed her to cut through all the backed-up traffic on the Ortega like it wasn’t even there.

  Meaning, she made it on time to prevent the next disaster.

  And the next.

  And next.

  For the rest of the night, she went from one to another until the sun came up and the disasters dribbled down to nothing.

  So much for working at Flashbacks and making any money tonight.

  At least she had a good chunk of change saved up from the sales of Lady Liberty #1. That’d hold her over for a few months of missing the good tip nights at Flashbacks. But she couldn’t do this every Friday. She’d have to go back to work eventually. Unless Lady Liberty the comic hit it big. If that happened, definitely quitting Flashbacks.

  Until then… more dancing. At least the pay was good and the hours flexible.

  The last thing Kristy did before going home Saturday morning was gas up the Ninja at a gas station and ride it to the storage garage to hide it until tomorrow night. After storing it away, she got in her Audi and drove home to Oceanside.

  At some point, she could’ve sworn she heard a motorcycle farting behind her somewhere in the distance.

  If it was Brock, screw him.

  If he tried to mess with her again, she’d kill him.

  —: Chapter 24 :—

  “Why are we driving to El Centro?” Arnold asked on Saturday morning. He sat behind the wheel of his Prius. I was kicking back in the passenger seat.

  “The usual,” I said. “Distress calls.”

  “Aren’t there problems in San Diego? So we don’t have to drive so far?”

  “Things will be worse out in El Centro today.”

  “May as well spread the love, right?”

  “Right.” Lately I had been starting to feel guilty about only helping people in upscale San Diego.

  We drove east through the high desert mountains on the 8 freeway. Being the height of summe
r, it was boiling hot outside and we had the A/C in the Prius cranked to max. It was struggling to keep the car’s interior temperature down to lukewarm.

  I didn’t mind the heat, but Arnold was sweating profusely and his shirt had big pit stains.

  He said, “Man, this bulletproof vest is a freaking oven. I should’ve waited to put it on.”

  I smirked, “That’s not how it works. You put the vest on before there’s trouble.”

  “Why? You can predict the future.”

  “What happened to Be Prepared? You’re the Boy Scout. Suck it up.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he groaned and grabbed the front of his polo shirt and shook it to create a neck breeze. It didn’t do much good.

  I said, “I could suck some heat out of you, if it’ll help.”

  “Suck? That sounded really gay, Doug. Really gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  I chuckled.

  “What are you laughing at,” he grumbled as he shrugged his shoulders in manly fashion, keeping his eyes on the road. Over the next few minutes, sweat continued to bead on his forehead. After wiping it away for the twentieth time, he grumbled, “Oh, geez. Fine. Try it. Just don’t turn me into an ice cube. And don’t suck anything. You can, uh, remove the heat.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, geez. Just do it already.”

  I reached my palm toward his forehead.

  He pulled away, “Geez, Mom! Are you taking my temperature or what?”

  “Do you want me to do it or not?”

  “Okay, okay. Do it already.”

  I put my hand on his forehead. For a moment, I hesitated. I didn’t want to freeze Arnold like I had Ice Statue. No, that wouldn’t happen. Arnold wasn’t shooting me in the neck from point blank range.

  I closed my eyes and took note of the colorful temperature gradient in Arnold’s head and body. Currently, he was mostly greenish. I extracted heat carefully, watching to make sure the green didn’t get too dark or turn blue or purple.

  “Wait!” Arnold laughed. “That’s actually working! Holy shit! My head is getting cool! This is amazing! It’s better than the A/C! Wait! Stop! You’re giving me brain freeze!”

  “Sorry.” I pulled my hand away. “It might be safer if I suck heat from something other than your head.”