Hero Force United Boxed Set 1

by Baron Sord

  He shot me. He fucking shot me…

  That was the exact distress call I had heard on the way here!

  A machine gun spray of guilt hit me like a barrage of depleted uranium slugs from the gatling gun of an A-10 Thunderbolt. 3,000 rounds of deadly guilt per minute. I never should’ve let Arnold come along tonight! This was almost a repeat of what happened at the quarry!

  Same asshole, same danger to my best friend!

  Earlier, I had tried to go without Arnold, but he’d insisted! He wouldn’t let me leave the house without taking him to the warehouse fire in Oceanside! I should’ve known better!

  I was a FRICKING idiot!

  Now Arnold was bleeding all over the concrete! Fuck! Why hadn’t I learned my lesson after the rock quarry?! Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, I was a fricking idiot!

  FUCK!

  —: Chapter 25 :—

  At that exact moment, the warehouse’s overhead lights dimmed, flickered like they wanted to turn off, then went back to dim. I wasn’t sure the cause, but the dim lighting certainly fit the grim mood.

  “The door is that way,” Gray Eyes prompted, motioning with Arnold’s Glock. “You can leave any time you want, my good man.” He meant me. “Exeunt stage left, as the Bard would say.” He paused to look at the Glock thoughtfully and muttered to himself, “Nice gun.”

  Feeling defeated, I started toward Arnold, intent on helping him. Then I mentally changed course and decided to charge Gray Eyes.

  “Careful,” he warned, aiming the Glock at Arnold’s head. “Don’t try anything stupid. I will shoot your friend in the head if you do.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave,” I grumbled. “Can I take my friend with me?”

  “Please do. Unlike his gun, I find him rather offensive,” Gray Eyes grinned.

  I nodded and changed course toward Arnold.

  Gray Eyes backed away, keeping the gun trained on Arnold’s head.

  I bent down to help Arnold up. I didn’t want to throw him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry because of his gut wound, or cradle him for the same reason. He didn’t look strong enough to ride piggyback either. He looked ready for a coffin.

  I said softly, “Arn, can you walk if I help you?”

  Arnold stared at me, eyes glassy, “He shot me, Doug. He shot me.” He was whimpering.

  “I’m sorry, Arn. This is all my fault,” I winced. “Come on. Let’s get up.” I stood behind him and grabbed him by the armpits. “We’ll stand up on three, okay?”

  “He shot me,” Arnold whispered absently.

  “One. Two. Th—”

  SKA-ZAAAAAP!!

  A literal lightning storm erupted from the entrance to the building. A barrage of bright bolts arced through the air, slamming into every booted thug with a gun. It looked like a lightning storm inside the building. And it was damn loud. The electricity cracked the air.

  The initial impact was so intense and explosive, I dropped Arnold and fell to the ground.

  The women workers screamed and scattered.

  The electrified thugs danced, their bodies spasming like they were getting hit with 100,000 volts apiece.

  Had I been any closer to them, I probably would’ve been riding the lightning like they were.

  The lightning continued to crack.

  Arnold rolled onto his side, moaning.

  Gray Eyes was nowhere to be seen.

  The women workers were running for cover.

  After a moment, the lightning stopped and all was silent. The thugs with the guns were laid out on the concrete floor, not moving. Unconscious or dead? I couldn’t tell.

  My eyes tracked over to the origin of the lightning storm: the open door leading outside.

  Lady Liberty leaned inside.

  Had she done that?

  LL! I thought.

  Doug? Are you in here?

  Yeah! Thank God you’re here! Arnold’s been shot!

  Who’s Arnold?

  My best friend!

  The one you brought to the Con?

  Yeah, him! Somebody shot him! I need to get him to the hospital!

  Yeah, okay. My car is a block away.

  I looked around for Arnold. Where the hell was Arnold? He had been lying there a second ago.

  “Before you get any wild ideas…” Gray Eyes drawled, his arm around Arnold’s neck, the Glock pressed against Arnold’s temple. “I will be taking my leave, if you don’t mind.” To Arnold, he said, “Stand up, fatty.”

  Arnold groaned. He was too weak to stand on his own.

  Gray Eyes said, “Stand the fuck up, or so help me I will shoot you where you sit.” With a grunt, Gray Eyes stood, straining as he lifted Arnold with him.

  The bottom of Arnold’s black T-shirt was soaked and dripping red droplets on the floor.

  LL thought, What should I do, Doug?

  Did you electrocute those other guys?

  Yeah.

  Can you electrocute the guy holding Arnold?

  I… No. I’m all out of juice.

  I had my fire power, but I was afraid Gray Eyes would shoot Arnold if I tried to burn him. I was also afraid of burning Arnold. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  Gray Eyes backed toward the door with Arnold in tow.

  “Where are you taking him?” I demanded.

  “Don’t worry,” Gray Eyes grinned. The knife scar that cut across his eyebrow and eye socket crinkled slightly, “I’m not taking him far. He’s too much of a liability. You just behave yourself and I will let him go once I’m outside. Look for him on the corner. Give me two minutes.” For the first time, Gray Eyes sounded slightly ruffled and uncertain of himself.

  I grumbled, “How do I know you won’t shoot him again?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me,” he grinned. “I give you my word.”

  “You’re serious?” I said with intense disgust.

  “Would you rather I shoot him now?” Gray Eyes said merrily.

  “Fine. Leave him on the corner outside. You’ve got two minutes.”

  “Excellent.” He pulled Arnold toward the door past Lady Liberty. “Excuse me, beautiful.”

  Lady Liberty thought, Should I stop him, Doug?

  No. I don’t want Arnold getting killed. Let the asshole go.

  “Under any other circumstances, my dear,” Gray Eyes said to LL, “I would offer to buy you a drink. Perhaps I can offer a rain check instead?”

  Lady Liberty glared at him.

  “I thought not. Good evening to you both. Remember, two minutes. On the corner. I am good for my word.” Gray Eyes smiled as he pulled Arnold outside.

  I started counting off seconds in my head.

  As soon as I hit 120, I ran outside and found Arnold slumped on the sidewalk against the side of a wall. His Glock rested in his lap.

  I picked it up with the intention of putting it somewhere for safekeeping. I couldn’t leave it here. With my clothes burned off, I had no place to carry it. I needed a third hand. Or my mouth. I wasn’t in the habit of biting on loaded guns, but I made an exception now. Bit down on the big square barrel, pointing it safely to the side. Then I carefully lifted Arnold to his feet before picking him up and cradling him in my arms.

  “Ugh,” he groaned.

  “I know, I know,” I whispered. “You hate being cradled. Deal with it.” I wasn’t sure if I was hurting him, but I needed to move him somehow and this seemed easiest.

  “Uggggh.”

  Jogging, I carried him back into the building.

  Lady Liberty saw me coming and went to one of the drug tables and tipped it over. Thousands of dollars worth of white powder — or perhaps tens of thousands worth — spilled onto the floor like it was worthless. LL righted the table.

  I laid Arnold on top, setting the gun down beside him. I said, “LL, how long will those guys be out?” I motioned to the unconscious thugs on the floor.

  “Minutes? Hours? I’m not sure. It depends how hard I hit them.”

  “How hard did you hit them?”
>
  “As hard as I could.”

  “They’re not dead, are they?”

  She shrugged, “I dunno.”

  “I suppose it’s now their problem if they are,” I said grimly. “We need to stop Arnold’s bleeding and call 911.”

  She stood on the other side of the table, “My phone’s in my car. Hey, are you on fire?”

  I looked down at myself. I still glowed orange, although it was less obvious under the fluorescent lights overhead. “No. It’s the… it’s the heat from earlier. From the warehouse fire. When I put it out.”

  “Oh.”

  “We need to find a phone. Mine and Arnold’s are in the car too.” After that night at the rock quarry, I had insisted Arnold and I both leave our phones and wallets in the car whenever we were handling anything violent like a shooting. Considering the situation, leaving them in the car had been the smart decision but it was the wrong one.

  I could ask LL to go get her phone, but I was worried what would happen if a dozen thugs with rifles suddenly woke while she was gone and I had to deal with them by myself while trying to protect Arnold. He could easily get shot dead.

  Frustrated, I looked around the warehouse for options.

  The women workers were now starting to creep out from hiding. Some of them fled, running right out the open door of the warehouse. I called out, “Does anybody have a phone?! I need to call 911! My friend is dying!”

  “No Inglés,” one of them said in Spanish as she hurried by.

  More and more snuck out the door. They could be immigrants afraid of being deported by immigration. Or afraid of the drug dealers they worked for. Or afraid of retaliation from Gray Eyes and his thugs. I couldn’t blame them for fleeing.

  “Maybe there’s a phone in that office,” I said to Lady Liberty.

  “I’ll go check.” She ran over and stepped inside. “Holy crap!”

  “What?!” I hollered.

  “There’s a mountain of money in here! I mean, lots and lots of it.”

  “Is there a phone? I need a phone!”

  “Yeah. Wait a sec. I’m dialing 911 now. Crap! The line’s dead!” She ran back over to Arnold. “We should just drive him to the hospital.”

  “Yeah.” I scooped my arms under Arnold and he groaned.

  Blood came pouring out of his gut wound.

  Not wanting to make things worse, I set Arnold down.

  “He doesn’t look good,” Lady Liberty said with pained concern. “Like he might bleed out. Maybe we should take the bullet out?”

  “How about we stop the bleeding first?”

  “Okay.”

  I lifted Arnold’s black T-shirt and saw where the bullet had gone in just below the edge of his SAFEMAX vest. Kevlar worked great when it was in the right place. In this case, it hadn’t been.

  Memories of sealing Cauterized Guy’s femoral artery came rushing back. Maybe I could help Arnold.

  I considered cauterizing the entrance wound, but I didn’t want to merely plug the opening on the surface. The bullet and the real damage lay deeper. And, sealing the wound might create complications later. Sure, a surgeon could cut through with a scalpel, but I didn’t want to make things worse than they were.

  What we needed was some sort of bandage or something that might work as a bandage to staunch the blood flow. I looked around for options. Heck, a big enough drug baggie might work.

  Not seeing anything suitable, I once again considered sealing the entrance wound by cauterizing it with heat. Doing so wouldn’t be any worse than plugging it with a dirty drug baggie, would it?

  I channeled heat to my hand to sterilize it before I started cauterizing. My hand grew white hot. I counted to 30 while watching Arnold’s blood burble out of his belly.

  “What are you doing?” LL asked.

  “Sterilizing my hand.”

  “Oh.”

  As soon as I counted to 30, I channeled heat up my arm until my hand no longer glowed. Then I slapped my cool hand over Arnold’s wound and pressed firmly. I wasn’t quite ready to cauterize the entrance wound without trying the obvious first. I said to LL, “Can you look around in the office for a first aid kit? A place like this should have something.”

  “Sure,” LL said, “But I think we should get the bullet out. It’s what they do on TV.”

  “On TV?” I snorted.

  “Hey,” she growled, “I’m trying to help.”

  “Thanks,” I scowled.

  “Taking a bullet out can’t possibly make things worse.”

  “Actually, it could.”

  She smirked, “Or maybe… not taking it out could kill him.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.” Then again, Arnold was ashen with agony and losing blood. Maybe she was right. I wasn’t a surgeon. What did I know?

  “I can get it out,” she offered. “If you want.”

  “Okay, how?”

  “I need an electrical cord.”

  “For a tourniquet? That won’t work on a gut wound.”

  “No. There’s one in the office. Wait a sec.” She ran back into the office.

  “What are you doing in there?!” I hollered.

  “Wait!” Less than a minute later, she came running out. “I needed to recharge a little. I don’t have much juice, but maybe I have enough to get the bullet.”

  “Juice?”

  “From an outlet.”

  “What?” I was confused.

  She rolled her eyes, “I ripped open the power cord to the lamp and sucked some juice out of the wall.”

  “With your mouth?” I pictured her sipping electricity from a power cord like it was a drinking straw.

  “No, my hand.”

  “Wait. You collect electricity from wall outlets?”

  “Yup.”

  “And shoot it back out?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s what I do with fire.”

  “Sounds like it,” she nodded.

  “Hold on, how did you make such a huge blast just now? When you shocked all these thugs out cold?” Unconsciously, I knew I was delaying doing anything to Arnold because I was fully aware I had no idea what to do. A simple-looking bullet hole on the outside could easily mean massive tissue trauma on the inside.

  LL frowned, “Can I get the bullet out now, or do you want to keep asking questions?”

  “No, go ahead.” I had no idea what she planned, but I knew her super powers could do incredible things like mine.

  She held her palms a few inches above the wound on Arnold’s stomach then closed her eyes.

  “What’s that going to do?” I asked.

  Smiling with her eyes closed, she said, “I’m not only a lightning storm, I’m also a magnet.” She started massaging the air over Arnold.

  “Is that doing anything?” To me, her hand waving looked like nonsense.

  “Wait. I can see it. There!”

  “You can see the bullet?”

  “Yes. In my mind. Maybe if you close your eyes, you can see what’s going on too. Like I can.”

  I thought of my TGV — my Temperature Gradient Vision. It had allowed me to fuzzily see the wound on Cauterized Guy’s femoral artery.

  Now, with my palm pressing on Arnold’s stomach, I should be able to see what was going on inside his body. I closed my eyes. Waited for an image to appear.

  None did.

  Of course it didn’t. Experience had taught me that my TGV only functioned when I was actively extracting heat from something, or transferring heat into it. With Arnold shot, that was the last thing I wanted to do. His body temperature needed to be kept as stable as possible. Then again, maybe I could safely release a small amount of heat into him. Warming his ample stomach up by a few degrees wouldn’t hurt him, would it?

  I carefully sent a minute amount of heat down my arm, hoping I wasn’t irradiating Arnold in the process.

  Eyes still closed, I could see a portion of Arnold’s stomach begin to glow faintly. In the darkness of my TGV’s field of v
iew, the glow inside Arnold slowly brightened into an amorphous green blob, but it was only glowing in close proximity to where my hand touched Arnold’s stomach and was actively emitting heat — as I expected. That said, if there was a bullet inside Arnold, I couldn’t see it. Probably because it had already equalized to the same temperature as Arnold’s guts. It had been inside him for at least five minutes.

  This had worked much better when I had been cooking Cauterized Guy’s artery. That was likely because I had been directly touching the tissue I needed to see — the man’s artery — and releasing substantial amounts of heat directly into the arterial walls. Enough to melt flesh. The temperature differential had been substantial, and I’d had the luxury of tugging on the artery as needed to help “see” it in relation to the surrounding tissue. None of these factors were true in Arnold’s case.

  I sighed, “It’s not working. I need to use more heat or touch the bullet directly, but I can’t. Not without burning Arnold.”

  “Ughhhh,” Arnold moaned.

  “Sorry, Arn,” I said. “We’re working as fast as we can.”

  LL reached over and smoothed Arnold’s sweaty brow with her gloved hand, “Don’t worry, Arnold. We’ve got you. Just hold tight, okay?” She smiled at me. “Let me try.”

  “Try what?” I asked.

  “Try getting the bullet out.” She stepped beside me.

  Even in a moment like this, I was keenly aware of her stunning beauty, but I ignored my attraction to her for Arnold’s sake. I said, “Do you need me to move?”

  “You’re fine,” she said and closed her eyes.

  “What about my hand? Is it in the way?”

  “Um…”

  “If I remove my hand, he’ll start bleeding out again. Should I seal the entrance wound?”

  She shook her head, “No. I’m gonna get the bullet out.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. “Yeah, I can see what’s going on in there. It looks terrible. Oh, and I see a bunch of blood vessels leaking all over the place. But they’re all pretty small.”

  “Can you see the bullet?”

  “Yup.”

  I was stunned. “Are you really seeing what’s inside Arnold? You’re not even touching him.”

  “I’m seeing him and the bullet.”

  “How? I use heat conduction. What are you using?”