He chuckled softly. “And a Happy New Year, too?”
“Sure, why not.” I laughed lightly a moment, too. “So you didn’t go home this year, either?”
“Actually, I did. That’s where I just got back from.”
“Oh! Well, that’s good.”
He scoffed. “Um, I wouldn’t jump straight to good. It was okay. Still very painful. But I think things are getting better, little by little. Knock on wood.”
“At least they celebrated this year.”
Something about the way he paused and then said “Yeah,” told me that as usual, there was more to the story. He asked, “So…where are you?”
“At Jill’s.” I wondered if he thought I was still seeing Chad.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Her family’s really nice. Speaking of which, I probably shouldn’t talk too much longer. I think this is considered long distance.” Jill’s mom walked by then, and hearing me, waved dismissively.
“Well, I appreciate you calling.”
“Yeah. I just wondered how you were, and…” I trailed off.
“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks,” Davin said. “Hey, have a great rest of the break.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hung up, feeling a confusing mixture of foolish and pleased. On the one hand, it hadn’t been a very long or emotionally deep conversation. He’d kind of cut it short; or had I, by saying I couldn’t talk too long? On the other hand, if he really hadn’t wanted to talk to me, he could have not picked up at all. I shook my head. It certainly hadn’t taken me long to stop thinking about Chad and get back to obsessing over Davin’s every word. Great, Anna. Just great.
Jill decided to head back to school a bit early, and I had no objections. I figured the quiet would be rather nice. We left the day before New Year’s, because, in Jill’s words, she didn’t want “to be around the two incredibly mushy couples” that made up her family, come midnight. We rang in the New Year quietly, in her room, with popcorn and chocolate and sappy movies like Sleepless in Seattle. I knew it was pathetic, but again I couldn’t help but wonder what Davin was doing. Was he celebrating? Was he kissing another girl at the stroke of twelve? Was he rushing off, to leave her confused, too?
Late the next morning Jill burst into my room and woke me up. “Hey, Anna, quick, turn on Kim’s TV.”
“Wha?” I sat up groggily. I rubbed my eyes; she didn’t wait for me to comply but turned it on herself and flipped to a certain channel. “I am standing here, downtown,” a young, pretty reporter was saying to the screen, “with several witnesses who have just informed me that the hero known by the name Dark Lightning was especially busy last night.” She spoke in a clear, strong voice.
My sleepiness vanished and I watched intently. I had nearly lost track of the hero during the Chad Weeks— another reason I should have known the relationship was doomed.
The reporter turned to the first of the indicated witnesses, a man in a police uniform. “Officer Williams,” she said, as a banner across the bottom of the screen displayed “Al Williams, Pittsburgh Police Officer,” “what can you tell us about Dark Lightning’s actions last night?”
“Well,” he said, in that slightly flat, almost nasal Pittsburgh accent, “I wadn’t on duty when he came arohnd, but when I got t’the jail this morning, it was full of people. The officer who’d been on duty told us that that Dark Lightning brought ‘em in, and they’d all been drunk and rohdy, driving an’ causin’ trouble n’at. They slept it off, an’ now nobody’s hurt. He did us all a favor, if yinz ax me.”
“Thank you, Officer Williams,” the reporter (“Jennifer Wright, KDKA news” her banner read) said seriously. She moved over to another person standing not too far away. “What was your experience last night?” she asked.
“Johnny Ellis” leaned into the camera. “That guy saved my life,” he declared.
“You say he saved you?” Jennifer moved closer. “How so?”
“I was out here for First Night, and I was walking back to my apartment when these guys surrounded me. I mean, I was a little drunk, but I think these guys must have been high or something. They were holding knives and telling me to hand over my wallet, when outta nowhere, WHAM! One guy just hits the ground. While we’re all staring at him, WHAM! Another guy hits the ground.” Every time he said WHAM, Jennifer jumped slightly. “By the time we figure out what’s goin’ on, the rest of them are running for their lives. I mean he just took them down. WHAM! I guess he tackled them or something. It was amazing. Dark Lightning,” he looked into the camera, “you’re awesome! Thanks for saving my life!”
The camera went back to Jennifer, fighting back a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Ellis.” She went on to talk to other people, and I just sat there, mesmerized. I still couldn’t quite believe it was all real, but there it was, on Live TV. And it was fitting that I was glued to the news, listening to the stories. My fascination with superheroes went so far back I couldn’t even quite recall how it had first begun.
It felt as though I’d been captivated by the notion my whole life. The idea of someone living a normal life, pretending to be fairly ordinary (and in some cases, the complete opposite of his alter ego), and then sneaking off to be a completely different person under the protection that his disguise gave him…it just intrigued me. What kind of person could do that? Living, day in and day out, two separate lives? Could it really work in real life? What about when his or her two lives collided?
What about the love interest? That had always been a special spot of fascination for me. It always seemed to cause the Hero so much pain, not to be able to tell her who he really was, or to be all that he wanted to be with her. He always had to divide himself. And I always wondered why Lois Lane never figured out that Clark was Superman. I mean, for pete’s sake, a pair of glasses doesn’t make that much difference. But then, I never really understood what he saw in her anyway. He would always tell her to stay out of trouble, and she never would, and then he’d have to rescue her, and I always thought she did it slightly on purpose. But really, none of the heroes’ love interests seemed very bright when it came to their guys. I always resented that. Were girls really that stupid? I thought we deserved a little more credit.
And just as I was thinking all this, I happened to glance at the picture on my desk of Davin and me from last year. Jennifer Wright was still asking people about Dark Lightning. I suddenly remembered the conversations I’d had with both Jill and my brother several months prior, about what Davin’s secret sneaking off might mean. I frowned, letting myself think for a few minutes.
“The guy is amazing,” one woman was raving, “just incredible! He carried me to safety and it was practically like he flew! He’s so fast and so strong…” She had the look of a woman caught in the throes of hero-worship. She even fanned herself off a little. Then she squealed, “Tony Gale, I LOVE YOU!” and exploded into giggles with her off-camera friends. Neither Jennifer nor Jill looked very impressed by that response.
“All right, thank you Jennifer,” the anchorman was saying as the reporter’s live broadcast ended. “And we’ll have a reaction from Tony himself tonight at eleven.”
“Ooh!” Jill slapped my leg. “Remind me to record that!”
I was saved the trouble of replying as the next story began; it was as of much interest to us, but for a completely different, and far more sobering, reason. The Hallway Stalker had struck again. This time his victim—a student at Duquesne—had been so badly attacked she was in the ICU at Passavant Hospital. They talked about how it was the one year anniversary of his first appearance, and how his behavior had escalated in violence and number of attacks. The first few girls had been beaten, but the last few had been both beaten and raped.
Fortunately, he hadn’t been active at Dubsy for a while. There were quite a few colleges and universities in the Pittsburgh area for him to choose from. Though they all worked frantically to keep their students safe, it was impossible to know whe
n or where he would attack next.
One group of students at Point Park had taken matters into their own hands and organized a night watch; volunteers banded together and roamed the campus to discourage the Hallway Stalker and any other would-be rapists. However, their efforts were considered controversial by the news: That very New Year’s Eve they had attacked a man all dressed in black that they believed to be the Hallway Stalker, but since he had turned up at a different school, authorities were unsure if it was a copycat, if they had deterred the actual Stalker, or if it had been an innocent person altogether.
“I don’t know,” one of the volunteers said, his face and voice distorted. “We beat him up pretty bad. We were so sure it was him, hiding in the shadows and dressed in black…if it wasn’t him, we’re really sorry.”
“While we appreciate the gesture of students banding together to defend one another,” the Chief of Police said when interviewed next, “vigilante justice is dangerous, as this report proves. There is not enough evidence to suggest a copycat Stalker, so at this point it looks as if they may have beat up an innocent person, who may be inclined to press charges.”
“But isn’t it true,” Jennifer Wright pressed, “that no one has yet come forward to admit they were attacked?”
“Yes,” Chief O’Leary confirmed.
“And isn’t it also true that the hero known as Dark Lightning could be considered a vigilante?”
At the mention of the superhero, the police chief’s face darkened. “As far as I’m concerned, Dark Lightning is little more than a menace. I do not condone his actions, and if it were up to me, I would have him locked up.”
“But,” Jennifer Wright sounded surprised, “surely he’s helping? And you do have Tony Gale’s admission, so couldn’t you arrest him?”
“The mayor has given him a pardon,” Chief O’Leary said, and it was clear he didn’t approve of the idea. “As for him helping, I think it’s his example that we have to thank for the violent attack by these college students. Rest assured,” he added, looking directly into the camera, “that as long as I am chief, I will not tolerate masked whackos of any kind running free in my town.”
“Well then.” Jill turned off the TV. “That was… weird.” She sat down on Kim’s bed again.
“Yeah,” I replied, my mind still whirring. “Definitely.”
Jill looked at me intently. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I replied automatically. She gave me her look. “Okay,” I conceded, “I do have something on my mind, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I gotta give it more thought.”
I pushed all confusing thoughts of Davin, Tony, the Hallway Stalker, and Dark Lightning—honestly, what a mouthful of a name I’d come up with!—aside and decided to go for another jog. On a whim, I tossed my water bottle and keys into my backpack so I wouldn’t have to carry them, and headed out. The weather wasn’t exactly ideal, as I quickly discovered. The snow had turned to a light drizzle, and everything outside was a wet, soggy, chilly mess. I knew the sensible thing to do was go back inside, but I told myself I at least needed a quick walk to clear my head.
For some reason, I wanted to keep the questions at bay. Whenever they popped into my head, I pushed them in the dark and unorganized corners of my mind—the same cobwebbed crannies which contained my unresolved feelings for Davin. I just didn’t want to face them. I knew I couldn’t know for certain the answer, so I just tried to ignore the questions. Instead of politely fading away, they merely waited in the shadows, lingering like a reminder of something you’re supposed to do, but can’t quite recall.
Fortunately, running was the best antidote. It seemed like whenever my head got too crowded with my over-thinking, taking a few laps around the track always seemed to help. By the end of my run, my musings never seemed as weighty as they had when I’d started, no matter what I’d been pondering or worrying about. Often, it would actually help me straighten out my unruly thoughts.
I sighed, my breath just showing, as I paused at a crossroads of paths. One led to my forest, and the other would eventually come to another favorite spot of mine, a small pond-fed waterfall. Of course since it was winter, the pond would be frozen and the waterfall would be dammed off; there wasn’t much else to see over there, so I headed to the woods.
Somehow they weren’t quite the same in the winter, either. They seemed so cold and naked, though I suppose there was kind of stark, wild beauty to them, even then. The bare branches protruded up in dark lines against the sky. Withered leaves decayed on the ground below, damp from rains earlier in the morning. I leaned against the trunk of one tree, feeling sort of saddened by the deadness that surrounded me. I longed for spring to come and things to grow again. Perhaps I had been conditioned by my childhood in Brazil to love greenness in nature, and all around me was gray and faded—even the sky.
I looked up at the drab ceiling of cloud cover that completed the monochromatic landscape. But as I looked, I realized that the sky was rapidly growing darker, and it was already a much deeper gray than it had been when I’d started my jog. I straightened up. If a storm was on its way, then I wanted to get back to my dorm as quickly as possible.
I’d only walked a few steps when a loud crack of thunder overhead startled me. I looked upward again, and as the wind began to set the trees trembling, I noticed the rain had frozen and turned into sleet. I was undaunted at first, having spent half my life getting caught in sudden showers. But as the freezing mix of sleet and rain became heavier, I realized that it was no summer storm in Brazil. It was a Pittsburgh storm: cold and steady, it could last for a while. My dorm was still about ten minutes away, and I hadn’t brought an umbrella or raincoat, so I decided to head to the nearest place of shelter.
Just down the path was a little chapel. I knew that if it was unlocked, and it most likely would be, it would be a nice place to dry off and wait it out. I headed straight for it, but stopped short at the doorway. With my hand on the handle, I could see through the window that someone was standing just inside, huddled and shivering. I was getting rather chilly myself, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in if there was someone else there. I had wanted to be alone. If it came to that, the person inside had probably wanted to be alone, too.
I was turning to go back out into the sleet when something checked me. I hesitated there on the steps, then glanced back in the door’s small window. The person was still standing in the foyer; and it almost appeared as if whoever it was had been caught in the downpour as well. At least, I could see the dark-clothed figure shaking— shivering? I bit my lip. For some reason I felt compelled to go in and make sure he or she was okay.
Besides Davin, it had been a long time since I’d gone out of my way to try to help someone; usually I was so certain I’d be no help at all that I wouldn’t bother. More scars left by the Summer of Emily, I supposed. In that moment, I felt emboldened by my mild successes with Davin, and bolstered by the courage of my hero Dark Lightning. In short, my stupid soft heart overruled my insecurity.
I pushed the door open gently. “Excuse me,” I said politely, sticking my head in, “I don’t mean to be rude, but is there anyth—” I stopped short, my mouth hanging open, as the dripping wet person turned to face me.
Even though his face was battered and bloody, I would have known it anywhere. My heart stopped and I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I looked at one of the people I cared about most in the world. I shook my head, my voice shaking as I struggled to say, “Davin—my God—what happened to you?”
He shook his head slightly and swayed, but only managed to get out two words—“Anna, no,”—before fainting.
Chapter Sixteen
“If one falls down, his friend can help him up.
But pity the man who falls
and has no one to help him up!”
—Ecclesiastes 4:10
I gasped and rushed to his side, trying to keep him from hitting the stone floor. “Davin, Davin, stay with me,” I said, my voice high pitched and franti
c. My short frame was really no match for his tall, athletic body but fortunately, he hadn’t completely passed out. “Let’s sit down,” I suggested quickly, leading him to one of the pews at the back. He winced as I squeezed his ribs. “Sorry,” I gasped.
He sank onto the bench with a soft groan and glanced up at me gravely. “You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled.
“No, you shouldn’t be here,” I retorted. “You should be at the hospital. Look at you!” His face was bruised and blood was seeping out of wounds above his eyebrow and on his chin. He looked awful. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and they weren’t focusing properly. He blinked.
“Anna?” He sounded uncertain. “Anna, don’t—”
“Shh, I’m right here,” I assured him, even though I was pretty sure he was still trying to get me to leave. “Just hang on, I’m going to fix you up.” I dug in my bag for my little travel first aid kit, just as I had the day we’d met. Fumbling with the latch, I tried to sound nonchalant. “So, um, what happened, anyway? How…how did you—how did this—” I stopped and licked my lips. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to finish my question. Maybe I didn’t want to know. I mean, I wanted to know, but I was also afraid of the answer. I didn’t expect him to tell me, either, which just worried me even more. What could he have done that was so awful it would have left him in such a state, but not want to tell anyone?
I closed my eyes briefly and drew a deep breath. Please. Please let him be okay. Please let me be able to help him. I exhaled and glanced up at the crucifix at the front of the chapel once before focusing on Davin again and getting to work. And please let him be the good man I believe he is.
My hands trembled as I finally opened my kit. I wanted to patch him up, but if I was wrong about him, if my instincts were off again, like they had been with Emily— I swallowed hard and tried not to think about it. Davin was my friend, and he was hurt. I tried to focus on that, and only that. I sighed. “So, I don’t suppose you want to tell me what happened to you, huh?”
Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning (The Dark Lightning Trilogy) Page 18
