Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning (The Dark Lightning Trilogy)

by J. M. Richards

  He didn’t look at me but talked over his food. “Maybe they weren’t going to seriously hurt her. You never know.”

  “Are you serious?” I was completely aggravated with him. Why was Davin bad-mouthing Shadowman? It didn’t make any sense. Unless... I tried a new line of questioning. “So, whatever happened to you, anyway?”

  He swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night. At the store. Where did you go?”

  He gave me that evasive look again. “I told you. I was just talking.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “To who?”

  “Um...fine, okay, I was talking to the store manager.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I was filling out an application,” he replied stiffly. “If you must know.”

  “Oh.”

  “What did you think I was doing?”

  I couldn’t tell him the truth; it would have been insulting. I had two thoughts, both of which were far-fetched and fanciful. One: he was one of the guys who had tried to hold up the store. It could explain why he was resentful of Shadowman’s interference.

  Or two: (and seeming less likely by the second) he was Shadowman. The idea suddenly seemed ridiculous, now that I was facing Davin. He was so very rational, matter-of-fact, and unheroic. Aside from his one small act of keeping an ungrateful Frisbee player out of harm’s way, everything else about him sort of screamed his misanthropic tendencies. He always seemed kind of annoyed when I brought it up, anyway. I started to wonder why the idea of him being Shadowman had ever occurred to me in the first place. I was just jumping to conclusions, as usual.

  “Anna?”

  I realized he was still waiting for an answer. “Um, nothing. No, I was just curious. You know? You were gone a long time.”

  “It was a long application,” he muttered. “So, about this guy—”

  “What guy?”

  “The so-called hero that you were just talking about.”

  “Oh! Right. Shadowman.”

  He winced. “Is that what they’re calling him? Seriously?”

  “I know—lame, right?”

  “All I’m saying is that it was dangerous, what he did. I hope other people don’t start copying him and putting themselves in harm’s way.”

  “You have a point,” I acknowledged, grudgingly. “I just don’t see why you have to look at it from such a negative angle. He was just trying to help.”

  He smiled wryly at me then. “I told you, I’m a realist,” he reminded me.

  I sighed. “Fine. Enjoy your down-to-earth logic and practicality. But you should know that I will not easily be swayed from my adoration of heroes.”

  “Of course not.” He took another sip of his soda. “Just...don’t expect this guy to be like your comic book heroes. That stuff is fantasy. This is a real guy.”

  “That’s what makes this so great,” I replied. “Things like this don’t happen in real life. I just think it’s exciting.”

  He sighed. “Already a fangirl, huh?”

  “You don’t understand,” I told him. “I love superheroes. I always have.”

  “This guy’s not a superhero,” he said.

  “How do you know?” I demanded. “You didn’t see him! The news showed the footage from the security camera. This guy is fast, like, lightning fast.”

  He gave me a skeptical look. “Lightning fast? Really. Are we talking The Flash here? Nothing but a red blur?” His voice was very sarcastic, but I tried to overlook it.

  “He was wearing black, not red. He might not have been quite as fast as The Flash, but he was pretty speedy. Faster than a regular person.”

  He just looked at me for a moment, and I felt myself flush. “You’ve already made up your mind to like this guy, haven’t you?” He studied me.

  “Well, I mean, I don’t know anything about him, but yeah. I like that he’s trying to help.”

  He nodded. “I guess I shouldn’t make fun of you for that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” I agreed primly. “For that matter, I shouldn’t expect you to be as enthusiastic as I am, either.”

  “Because I won’t be,” he assured me.

  “Well, if you can accept that I’m a great big geeky fangirl, then I guess I can accept that you’re a skeptic and a realist. You shouldn’t have to pretend to be as excited as I am just to make me happy. If it comes to that, you shouldn’t have to pretend to be anything around me. Friends should be real with each other, you know?”

  He was quiet a moment. “That sounds fair. Out of consideration for you, I will try to keep my critique of…Shadowman…to a minimum.”

  “I would appreciate that,” I admitted. “But I’ll try not to expect it.”

  “Doesn’t mean I agree with you, though,” he clarified. “I still don’t think this guy is anything to get excited about.”

  I shrugged. “You’re entitled to disagree. But you’re wrong.”

  “Time will tell,” he sighed, standing and gathering his stuff. “See you later.”

  “Bye.” I watched him go, and then looked down at my own tray of uneaten food. I’d been so busy defending Pittsburgh’s new hero I’d barely taken a bite.

  As I picked at my salad reflectively, I noticed that the table had really filled up. I hadn’t realized so many people had sat down; for a few minutes, I’d only been aware of Davin and myself. I was still replaying our conversation about Shadowman when I heard a nearby voice echo my own thoughts.

  “No, I really think Shadowman is a superhero!” insisted a wiry redhead to my left. I looked over as he gestured wildly to his friends. “My roommate thinks it’s all a hoax. A hoax! What do you guys think?”

  “Could be CG,” a spiky-haired guy replied from across the table.

  “No way,” the redhead replied. “I haven’t seen computer graphics that good. Yet.”

  “I don’t know, man,” another guy chimed in, adjusting his glasses. “People are saying it’s just a promotion for a new TV show.”

  “What show?” the redhead demanded.

  “I don’t know.” The third guy shrugged. “Some new reality show, I think.”

  “I can’t believe you guys!” the redhead exploded. “Seriously, some guy is saving people right here in Pittsburgh, and you think it’s fake! Don’t any of you get that we potentially have our own superhero?!”

  “All right, come down out of orbit, Sputnik,” the spiky-haired guy said smoothly. “I think we all see the possibility. But we don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

  ‘Sputnik’ groaned. “You’re killing me, Alan!” “I’m just saying, let’s wait and see what happens. See if this guy resurfaces again, and what he does.”

  “So, how many times will it take before you’re convinced?” The words were out of my mouth before I remembered that I was not actually part of the conversation. The guys all turned to look at me in surprise. By this time I could see that it was a group of more than three people; they had taken over most of the table, and they were all staring at me like I was an alien.

  “Um...” I cleared my throat. “Never mind.”

  “No, wait!” The redhead reached across the empty seat between us and splayed his hand on the table, as though trying to connect me to the conversation. “You saw this guy on the news?”

  “Shadowman? Yeah. I saw him.”

  “And you think he’s for real?” he persisted.

  “Well...” I looked at all the expectant faces, and suddenly I wasn’t as sure as I’d been with Davin. “Yeah, I mean, that was my initial reaction.”

  “But now you’re having second thoughts?” The spiky-haired one spoke up.

  I shrugged. “No, not really. I’d like to see a little more of him in action, but...I don’t know. I just have a feeling that he’s the real deal.”

  “You have a feeling?” Another guy, further down the table, echoed my words. “How quaint. While that’s really cute and all, around here, we tend to stick to cold, hard facts.”

  Sputnik rolled his eyes. �
�Ignore Greg. He thinks he knows everything.”

  Greg glared at him. “I certainly know more than some. For example,” he turned his sneer on me, “I bet you’ve never even read a comic book.”

  For a second I was too incredulous, then too outraged to speak. I clenched my jaw and tried to stay calm. “Actually, I’ve been reading comic books since I was about seven. Any other tests I need to pass in order to carry on a conversation with you guys?”

  “No, no. Really,” Sputnik insisted hastily, “Gregory doesn’t speak for all of us.”

  “And anyway, we don’t stick entirely to facts,” the third guy spoke up again. He flashed a smile of white teeth that contrasted with his dark skin. “We discuss possibilities, too, and I think this discussion falls under the realm of possibility. We all saw a guy dressed in black keep a woman from getting hurt. We may not know exactly what that means yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t speculate.”

  “Good point, Chuck.” Sputnik pounded the table with his fist. “I like speculation. For example: who do you think would win in a fight? Shadowman, or Spider-Man?” He looked at me. “What do you think, um...what’s your name?”

  “I’m Anna,” I replied, offering him my hand to shake.

  “Nice to meet you, Anna. I’m Doug.”

  “Oh!” Somehow I couldn’t think of him as a ‘Doug.’ It just didn’t fit—it seemed too mild for someone as expressive as he was.

  “What?” He looked perplexed by my expression.

  “Nothing! It’s just...I was starting to think of you as Sputnik. Because he,” I pointed to the guy with spiky hair, “called you that a couple minutes ago.”

  The two guys across from him—Chuck and...Alan?— hooted with laughter. Doug blushed, nearly as red as his hair. “If that’s easier for you to remember, then sure, call me Sputnik. That’s fine.”

  “Can I call you Sputnik, too?” his friend teased.

  “Shut up, Alan,” Sputnik replied good-naturedly. “You already do call me that.” He turned back to me. “So? Spider-Man, or Shadowman?” He and all the other guys waited for my answer.

  “Hmm.” I thought seriously. “Well, I’d really hate to see them in a fight. Spider-Man’s pretty much my favorite, but...Shadowman...he’s real.”

  “Allegedly,” interrupted the rude guy.

  “Shut up, Greg,” Sputnik said, with less teasing in his tone.

  Like I cared what that guy Greg thought of me anyway. “I don’t know,” I concluded. “I think I need to see a bit more of him in action first. I don’t think he has any webbing capabilities or super strength, so Spidey probably has him beat there. But who knows, maybe he has some other cool power we didn’t get to see.”

  Sputnik grinned widely at me. “Not a bad answer!”

  “Yeah,” Alan agreed. “Welcome to the club!”

  “Club?”

  “Yeah. We’re Dubsy’s official Comic Book Club,” Chuck told me.

  “Really?” I wrinkled my nose in delight.

  “Yup. And since you not only read comics, but clearly love superheroes as much as we do, you’re in!” Sputnik added cheerfully.

  “Awesome,” I replied.

  Alan looked at me closely. “You’re excited about this?”

  “Well...yeah. I do love superheroes.”

  “No kidding?” He continued to scrutinize me. “'Cause we don’t take kindly to mockers.”

  “No kidding.” I held up my hand as if swearing an oath. “I’m honestly a great big geek.”

  Alan, Sputnik, Chuck, and the rest of the guys grinned broadly at me. “Welcome.”

  Chapter Four

  “A Namer has to know who people are,

  and who they are meant to be.”

  —Madeleine L’Engle, “A Wind in the Door”

  The buzz quickly spread around school. Students were divided; some, like Sputnik’s roommate, adamantly refused to believe that Shadowman was anything other than an elaborate hoax. And others had heard the same rumor Chuck had—that it was all a promo for a new reality show. I was glad that at least a few others embraced the idea that he was a hero, and I found myself seeking out the comic book club to eat with.

  “What you guys keep forgetting,” the annoying guy Gregory reminded the rest, “is that we don’t even know for sure if this guy has any real special powers or not.”

  “Yeah, but Greg,” objected Alan, “if he doesn’t have any powers, how does he know where to be to help people?” The rest of us looked back at Gregory.

  He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’s just in the neighborhood. I mean, bad stuff happens all the time. Or, maybe he knows because he really set everything up to fake a rescue.”

  There were several groans of disagreement. “Now you’re forgetting something, Greg,” I piped up. “Let’s just say he had the means and the wherewithal to set up these last few encounters we’ve been hearing about. My question then is, why? If he was doing it for fame and attention, and a chance in the spotlight, then where is he? Why hasn’t he come forward?”

  He shot me a smug glance. “Maybe he’s just trying to win people over. Gain the city’s trust. Think about it: it would be the perfect plan.”

  “You’re saying you think he’s a villain?” Sputnik sputtered.

  “No.” Greg shook his head. “That wouldn’t make him a villain. That would just make him...pragmatic.”

  “And self-serving,” I added.

  “Is there something wrong with that?” Gregory asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied emphatically. “It’s pretty much the opposite of a hero. Heroes don’t do things for themselves. They take care of other people first.”

  “Yeah, and that's what usually gets them in trouble. All I’m saying is, if you have the ability, why wouldn’t you make it work for you?”

  “Ugh, that’s so cynical. I get that most people are like that, but isn’t that what sets heroes apart? Not just that they have special abilities, but how they use them?”

  Gregory eyed me coolly. “Let’s say you’re right. Maybe this Shadowman has special abilities. And maybe he really is trying to use them for other people. All I’m saying is, we still don’t know that we can trust him. We don’t really know anything about him. I mean, if he’s the real deal, where has he been? Why did he wait until now to start helping people? We don’t know anything about him, because instead of coming forward like an honorable citizen, he’s hiding in the shadows again, waiting for another chance.”

  “Another chance for what? What do you think this guy’s endgame is, exactly?” Sputnik looked indignant, as usual.

  Gregory shrugged. “That’s just it. We have no way of knowing.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I think you guys are overthinking this. I mean, why can’t he just be a decent guy who wants to help people?”

  “Then why wear a mask?” Alan mused. “I’m not saying I disagree, but someone could help people by joining the police department, you know? It would seem a lot less shady.”

  “Why does Spider-Man wear a mask?” I countered. “Why does Batman? They could have joined the force, too. They felt the need to protect their identities. Batman wanted to be above the law, I think. And Spider-Man...well, he’d probably freak his partner out if he ran up a wall to chase a criminal.”

  “So it’s for self-protection, you think?” Chuck mused.

  I shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not worried about it. Maybe it’s to hide his horribly disfigured face. That doesn’t matter to me. All I care about is that he’s trying to do some good in this world. In fact, if I’m ever in need of rescuing, and he whisks me away, I am not going to be thinking about his ulterior motives. I’m not even going to care what’s under his mask. I’m just going to be glad he saved my life,” I declared confidently. “And that’s the bottom line.”

  “If you say so.” Gregory shrugged and glowered at me from his corner. It was a pretty typical conversation for our group; I didn’t always sit with them, but I tried to catch up with them once or twice a week. I found
comfort in our conversations (as geeky as we all were), while the rest of the campus seemed ignorant of what to think about Shadowman.

  

  It was just after Thanksgiving Break that Shadowman got some unexpected publicity, adding to the mystery and controversy surrounding him. From my room, I could hear sirens in the distance. I paused from my Comp I reading. I couldn’t help but wonder if right then, somewhere not too far away, Shadowman was having it out with criminals. I made myself finish the chapter before I turned on Nicki’s TV (she was out with her study group), hoping for a news update.

  I flipped through several channels without much luck. Then suddenly the words “We interrupt this program…” caught my ear. I stopped and listened. A serious looking anchorman told us that a Giant Eagle (a grocery store down Route Eight and near the city) had been in the process of being robbed—when something went very wrong. They showed an exterior shot of a building that had flames streaming off of it. I gasped. The sober, live-on-location reporter told us that police had estimated there had been about a hundred and sixty hostages inside the building, when apparently, one of the robbers had gotten anxious and fired his gun into the ceiling. It had hit a gas line, triggering an explosion which caved in part of the roof and had set on fire some of the flammable products the store kept (such as aerosols and oils). The police had no idea how many people, including the robbers, were still alive.

  While the young woman finished speaking, a gasp came from the crowd that had gathered. The reporter turned to find out what was going on, and the cameraman zoomed in to see a soot-streaked woman and child standing just outside the doors, coughing and crying.

  “Ma’am! Ma’am!” The reporter raced to be at her side as a fireman also approached her to drape a blanket over her shoulders and ask the woman if she needed oxygen. “Ma’am,” the reporter repeated, sticking the microphone in the lady’s face, “can you tell us how you managed to escape?”

  The woman pulled her son closer to her and drew shaky breaths. “That man,” she panted. “In black. Shadowman. Saved us. He’s saving everyone.”

  The reporter leaned forward with increased interest. “Did you just say the Shadowman is in there? Was he there with the robbers?”