Halfway Heroes

by Dustin Martin

  Chapter 50—Leonard’s House

  As Sylvia raced down the streets, they passed only a few people, either fleeing out of fear or clutching expensive equipment under their arms. On one street, they drove past a store where looters were fighting each other and the store owner over the merchandise. Sylvia slowed down, pulled on one glove, and fired a couple of shots into the air. The looters scampered away and they continued on.

  “Even in the face of death,” Sylvia said, shaking her head. “Ridiculous.”

  “What’s with the gloves?” Lydia asked as they drove off.

  “Specially woven to dampen the sound,” Sylvia said, tapping her fingers. “It’s still loud, yet without them, it’s like putting your ear against the gun. Not very fun.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  The cramped city soon gave way to open fields, littered by large, stately houses. Any other time, Lydia would’ve admired their beauty, but everything was as solemn and ominous as it had been in the city. They stopped at Leonard’s home, an impressive mansion. They waited in the car on the side of the street, watching their surroundings. Nothing moved.

  “Okay,” Sylvia said. “Jando, Lydia, you’re with me. Aidan, you stay here and keep an eye out. If anything happens, call Rogers, alright?” He nodded and crawled into the front seat. Jando walked between Sylvia and Lydia, hands on both of their backs. Their two bodies vanished. Sylvia took the odd experience in stride, continuing briskly up the walkway. The effect must have looked pretty silly to an observer: Jando creeping around, hands out as if he were a child pretending to be a secret agent.

  “Bet you won’t push me away this time,” he said to Lydia, teasingly moving his hand up and down. She was grateful he kept his hand only on her back.

  Sylvia pushed open the front door. She stepped inside, Jando’s hand following her back as she twisted and turned to check the foyer. When she deemed it clear, everyone moved in. Jando had a little trouble gauging where their feet were. “Maybe I should grab your legs instead?” Lydia shot him a frown. He received the message even though he couldn’t see her. “So I don’t trip, that is.”

  “Quiet,” Sylvia said. Unable to see what she was doing, Lydia assumed Sylvia was listening for any sound. A tense minute passed and then Sylvia whispered, “Okay, follow me.” They walked down the halls, checking the first-floor rooms one by one. It was a fine house, Lydia thought. Wealthy, but with a touch of a homey atmosphere. Although the slapdash collection of paintings ruined that. She shook her head. Focus on what’s at hand. Criticize the interior decoration later.

  They combed each room on the first floor carefully and found no one. All of them breathed a little easier when they’d examined the last room.

  Now only the second floor was left. Sylvia walked down the hall in the direction of the staircase. It was difficult to maneuver around and to stay invisible. Lydia found it akin to a centipede having to compensate for all its legs. “Let go for now because this is way too hard,” she said.

  “As you wish.” Jando let go of both of them and they materialized before him.

  A dull thud came from above.

  Jando and Lydia leapt into the air. He stumbled into Lydia, knocking her into a vase. It toppled over and crashed to the floor. “Good job,” Lydia said.

  “It’s not like I meant to,” he said.

  Sylvia touched the wall, waiting for any vibration, any sound of footsteps. They waited. And waited. Sylvia’s head snapped back to them. “We’ve got company,” she said. Lydia and Jando moved close to her. He made them disappear and ducked inside a doorway.

  Lydia heard Sylvia running her hand along the wall. “Up ahead,” she whispered to them. They started to move quietly down the hall in a tightknit cluster. The staircase was in sight, just around the corner from where they stood. Sylvia put up her hand, signaling for them to stop. She opened a nearby door. “Be ready to move,” she whispered.

  They heard footsteps coming from the direction of the stairs. All eyes turned toward the sound. It was Mark. Lydia knew that only Jando was visible to him. He was vastly different, having traded some weight for a buffer build, and he’dchanged his hair color.

  The two boys stared, recognizing the other. “Uh,” Jando said, looking down to his side, directly at Lydia. Mark saw his glance and shuffled back a step. “I’m looking for the bathroom?” Jando tried sheepishly.

  Mark bolted up the stairs. Lydia broke out of cover and ran blindly toward him. As she exited the hall she heard several gunshots. She ran across the foyer and ducked into the doorway to the kitchen. Jando and Sylvia stayed in the hall. Both sides waited for the other to move.

  “So,” Mark said from the top of the stairs. “I was right. It is you. Hey, Lydia and friend.”

  She edged her head around, trying to view the top of the staircase. She could only see Mark’s arm. “Hey, Mark,” she said. “Been working out?”

  “A little,” he said. “Could probably take you on now.”

  “Why don’t you come down here and try it?” Sylvia appeared to be searching for a way upstairs, so Lydia kept talking. “Settle it once and for all.”

  “No thanks,” he said. “I like it up here.”

  “What’s the matter? Too scared to take me on without your friends?”

  “Are you?” he asked. “Two against one doesn’t seem fair.” He headed across the hall. Lydia could see him clearly now. He was strutting around as if he owned the house. But what she noticed foremost was that he was unarmed. So who had been firing?

  “No, but two against two is,” Lydia said. Mark stopped and turned his head to follow Lydia’s gaze, which rested just behind him. He smacked his forehead.

  “It’s alright,” Heather said, making her presence known. She stood behind Mark, using him as a human shield. Her gun was trained over his shoulder. “Besides, Sylvia would’ve found me out eventually. Wouldn’t you?” Sylvia didn’t answer. “I know you’re there. But if you don’t want to talk, fine. I must say I’m surprised you survived, Ms. Penner. Or do you prefer Lydia?”

  “How about the person who’s going to put you in the ground?” Lydia shouted. She clenched her teeth, feeling her pulse speed up with rage at this woman.

  “Funny, I remember I almost held that title for you,” Heather said. “But you avoided being roadkill. Now, if you’ll excuse us, this really isn’t the time to settle our problem. In case you didn’t realize, there are SN91 canisters all over the city.”

  “So you’re using a kid to hide behind?” Sylvia asked, swapping places with Jando. Her pistol was raised, ready to turn and fire.

  “Oh, Mark is capable of more than you realize,” Heather said. Mark beamed proudly at her statement. Lydia glanced at Jando. He was nodding at Heather’s statement.

  “Where’s Rooke?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Heather said. “But if you want that lunatic, you had better find him before I do.”

  “Maybe we can work together?” Sylvia suggested.

  Heather scoffed. “What, with me at the end of a pair of handcuffs?”

  “You could cut a deal.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Two life sentences instead of three at best?” She shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Mark,” Sylvia said. “What about you? You can turn away from all this. Help us and come out unscathed.”

  Lydia peeked out from her spot in the kitchen doorway. Mark was glancing between Sylvia and Heather. Mark nodded and stood firmly in front of Heather. “Nope. I’m sticking with her. We’ll find Rooke our own way. You want Heather, you’ll have to go through me.” That was perfectly fine with Lydia. Now she had all the excuse she needed to beat both of them to a pulp.

  “Well, this has been fun, but we are on a clock,” Heather said, smiling sweetly. The pair began backing away from everyone’s view. “I’ll save you the trouble and tell you this place is a dead end. So we’ll see you later.” She and Mark began to turn away.

  “You’re not leaving!” Lydia said.
She raced from the doorway and dove behind the staircase banister.

  “Lydia, stay down!”

  Sylvia’s voice. Heather fired and bullets whizzed by Lydia as she crouched in her spot. Sylvia leaned out and fired. Each of her shots struck Mark dead-on. But he didn’t fall over. He merely grinned.

  “That the best you got?” he asked.

  Lydia charged up the stairs. Heather fired at Lydia, but her aim was thrown off as she swayed to the right, trying to avoid Sylvia’s returning shots. When Lydia reached them, she kicked Mark in the stomach. He fell back, holding onto her left leg. Mark had knocked into Heather, whose gun flew out of her hands.

  Lydia fell. She stomped at Mark’s face repeatedly. He didn’t budge and grabbed her right leg. As he pinned her feet down, Heather kneeled on Lydia’s arms. “Open wide,” she said. Heather raised her head up, her throat swollen. With the green scarf, she was like a frog preparing to lash out its tongue. Lydia wriggled her right arm free of Heather’s knee. Heather fought to press Lydia’s arm back down.

  Sylvia was halfway up the stairs. She fired, her bullets hitting the railing next to Heather. Heather choked and let go of Lydia’s left arm. A thick, dark cloud erupted from her mouth. It floated into the air above Lydia. Both her hands now free, the girl covered her mouth and nose. The cloud lifted, drifting into the air. Then Heather was up. She kicked Sylvia’s gun out of her hand, sending it down the stairs. Heather reached for her own gun, but Sylvia swept it away. It, too, clattered down the stairs. Heather was left to trade blows with Sylvia as they descended the staircase.

  Mark held firmly to Lydia’s legs. She sat up and punched his face. She was shocked that her blows had no effect. He smirked. “Haven’t you heard?” he asked. “I can’t be hurt.”

  “Yeah, I heard something like that.”

  Lydia dug at his fingers, prying them off of her. She pulled off both of his hands and held his wrists tightly. He bashed his head into her gut, which loosened her grip on his right hand. He punched her in the side and she let go, freeing his left hand. He grabbed her legs again. She stopped and listened. Footsteps crossed the hall and up the stairs. Aidan’s head appeared as he climbed the steps. Mark was facing away from the stairs, holding her legs. Lydia knew if he looked around he might loosen his hold.

  She made eye contact with Aidan. She hoped he got her message.

  Aidan did. He grabbed at Mark’s back and yanked. Mark shouted with surprise and let go of Lydia’s legs.

  She was on her feet in an instant. “Took you long enough,” she said to Aidan, watching Mark for any sign of a sudden attack.

  “Couldn’t get through to Rogers,” Aidan said. “Then I had to find a side window, warm up, loosen the muscles, you know.”

  Mark threw a punch. He caught Aidan in the cheek.

  “Gah! Why does everyone go for that spot?!”

  Lydia elbowed Mark’s nose, then gave him two hits to the chest. No effect on him whatsoever. He head-butted her. “So it’s true. What are you?” she asked. “Was it the spill that did it?”

  He scratched his nose. “In that order: invulnerable and yes. That spill at Rooke’s did wonders for me.” Lydia’s guess had been correct. Invulnerability would certainly have been an attractive asset for Rooke’s use. It was little surprise that he had obtained Mark.

  “Wonders is right,” Aidan said. “It’s like trying to break a rock.”

  “A wall is what I am,” Mark said.

  “Might want to tell that to the FBI. They’re calling you ‘Shorty,’ ” Aidan said.

  Mark pouted, but his attention remained fixed on Lydia. She swung again, hitting hard enough to break his jaw. His head flew up, but he righted it. “Come on. Give me your best,” he taunted.

  She put him in a headlock. Over and over, she punched his scalp. She added a few stomps on his toes for good measure. She drove Mark into a wall, bashing his head through it. Then she pulled him out and flung him down the hall. Lydia sprinted after him. A head-butt to his forehead. A kick to the shin. Then she worked the face. Left, right. Left, right. She was pushing him back. But no bruises appeared. He didn’t cry out in pain.

  Finally, she ended with a kick to the ribs. Mark soared back toward a window and smacked into it, cracking the glass. He fell to the ground. Lydia waited, breathing hard. Her eyes nearly fell out of their sockets in surprise when Mark picked himself up. He wasn’t injured. That’s impossible, she thought. He shouldn’t be able to stand!

  “Is that it?” Mark asked. He ran toward Lydia and Aidan, fists raised. They met him in the middle. Lydia caught his arms, holding him in place. Aidan grabbed a painting from the wall. He brought it down on Mark, and his head poked through the canvas. Undeterred, Mark yanked the painting off. He swung it at Lydia and then at Aidan.

  Downstairs, Sylvia and Heather were playing cat and mouse. Heather had pulled out a shotgun from her portable arsenal and was blowing holes in the house. “Come on out,” she said, pumping the gun. “I’ll make this quick.”

  “Over here!” Jando shouted. He stood in an open doorway about twenty feet away. Heather aimed at him and pulled the trigger. Fragments of wood from the destroyed door exploded into her face. Jando ran off, revealing the now visible closed door with a destroyed centerpiece.

  “Cute,” Heather said.

  Sylvia appeared behind Heather and aimed at her. Heather knocked Sylvia’s pistol aside with her own gun. Sylvia retrieved her weapon and they struggled, trying to line the gun barrels up with the other’s face. They constantly fired off missed shots until their ammunition was spent.

  Heather dropped her shotgun and kicked Sylvia in the knee. Sylvia fell, but side-kicked Heather. Dodging, Heather fell back into Jando. He swung a vase at her. She ducked and it shattered on the wall. Then she belted his nose.

  He staggered, touching his running nosebleed. Yet he held onto the largest, broken piece of the vase. He rushed her, swung the piece, and caught her cheek, drawing blood. “Hate to cut such a pretty face,” he said, swiping at her. He confidently alternated between stabbing her with the piece of the vase in his left hand and punching her with his right.

  “You’re not too bad either,” Heather said. She grabbed his left arm and twisted. His grip on the piece of vase loosened. She snatched it up and pushed him aside. “But you’re not my type.”

  Sylvia whacked Heather’s forehead with the butt of her pistol. Heather blindly stabbed at her using the vase shard. Sylvia weaved and punched Heather’s shoulder, then tripped her. Sylvia restrained Heather’s arms, holding her to the ground. “Jando! Help me!”

  Jando scrambled to his feet. He latched onto Heather’s legs. Heather kicked, but it was useless. He held her fast. “Not bad,” Heather said, grunting and turning her head. “Now why don’t you let me go?”

  “Sorry, not likely,” Jando said. But he noticed she was staring at Sylvia. Some strange disturbance hovered in the air between the women. Sylvia grimaced, shaking her head a little and blinking rapidly as if suffering from a headache. She loosened her grip a little on Heather’s arms. “Hey! Hey, Sylvia! Why are you letting go?” Jando asked.

  Heather bucked her body, throwing Sylvia off her.

  Heather wormed her way out of Jando’s arms. Then she kicked his head and bolted. Sylvia shook herself, looking confused. When she saw Heather had run off she ran after her. Heather produced another pistol from her coat and fired behind her. Sylvia dashed to the side, avoiding the fire.

  Meanwhile, Lydia held onto Mark. Over and over he tried to stomp on her feet and she stepped away. It was an odd dance, made stranger by Aidan using Mark as a punching bag. Eventually, Mark bashed his head into Lydia’s. Then he jammed his heel into her toes.

  “Yeowch!” she cried.

  Free of her, Mark went toe-to-toe with Aidan. He swung at Aidan, who leapt back gracefully. Mark was surprised, but closed the gap. Aidan hovered in the air, zipping around the attacks. He circled his increasingly frustrated target.

  “Stay still!” Mark
said, swatting at him.

  “Why? Is the Wall too slow to keep up?” Aidan asked smugly. Mark roared and kicked hard. Aidan backed away, crossing his arms. Mark ground his teeth and dove for him, crashing into a table. Aidan floated above the other boy and landed safely on the other side. “You know the fatal flaw of a wall?” he asked as Mark stood up. “You can simply go over it.”

  Lydia tackled Mark, and together they fell forward into an empty room. Sitting atop his chest, she pounded his face nonstop. “What have you got against me?” he asked between hits.

  “You killed my father!” Lydia said, panting. She picked up a chair and bashed it on his chest.

  “I didn’t kill him!” Mark said, struggling to breathe. His forehead was shining with sweat. He scrambled to his feet. He reached for a bookshelf, loading his arms with a stack of books. One by one, he began hurling them at Lydia, but that didn’t stop her yelling.

  “You helped Finster! You and Heather might as well have killed him!” she said, swatting aside the projectiles. She lunged for him. Lydia drove him back into the hall. They tumbled down the staircase, followed closely by Aidan. When they landed on the bottom, Mark tried to run. Lydia yanked him back by his shirt. She lifted him up, spun him around, and threw him into the kitchen.

  Mark snatched a knife from a drawer. He rounded on Aidan and Lydia. He swiped, nicking her ear. He stabbed at Aidan’s vest but couldn’t penetrate it. Lydia put his arm in a hold. She wrestled him for the knife. He sliced her palm, but she latched onto the handle. He held onto the blade. When she pulled it free, there were no cuts on his hands.

  She tossed the knife aside. Mark rammed his shoulder into her. Then he delivered two straight punches, with a final blow to her ribs. Lydia buckled, but grabbed a fistful of Mark’s hair. She smashed his head into the refrigerator. She opened the door and stuck his head in the refrigerator, slamming the door against his head while throwing in kicks to his stomach. Aidan was behind him, punching his back. When she began to tire, she used her final wind in one large slam. The refrigerator door came unhinged.

  Yet Mark stood up, perfectly fine. He reached for a pot and hit Lydia with it. He blocked Aidan’s punches with the pot, and then he kneed Aidan in his gut. Aidan doubled over. Mark raised the pot and clobbered him. Aidan fell to the ground. “Try to get over the wall now,” Mark said, tapping the pot in the palm of his hand.

  Lydia wrapped her hand tightly around Mark’s neck. He dropped the pot and pried at her fingers. Mark kicked, catching her legs. She picked him up and threw him through a kitchen window. He rolled into the yard’s fresh grass. He crawled away, leapt to his feet, and took off at a run.

  She turned to Aidan and helped him stand. “Get up! Get up!” she said, propping him on the counter. “He’s getting away!”

  “Alright,” he said, wheezing. “Let’s go.”

  They climbed out the shattered window, careful not to cut themselves on the shards of glass. Then they chased after Mark.