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

by J. M. Richards

  “Oh, there was one other thing.” Alan turned back to me with a thoughtful expression. “Remember how, a while back, Greg made this absurd comment about how he was convinced that Dark Lightning is really a college student like us, maybe even living in this area?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Why?”

  “Well, isn’t it funny that he turned out to be right?”

  “You mean Tony Gale?” I sighed.

  Sputnik picked up on my skepticism right away. “There’s something off about him, right? Even Alan thinks so!”

  Alan looked reluctant. “Look…I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy theorist. All I said was that he seemed…remarkably well-adjusted for someone who goes around stopping crime.” He shrugged. “But what do I know?”

  I looked to Sputnik, who hedged. “I don’t buy it,” he said flatly. “But…on the other hand…he does fit with Greg’s profile…”

  I scoffed. “You guys are actually putting faith in something Greg came up with?”

  They exchanged a glance. “As much as it pains me to say,” Alan sighed, “I’ve seen his probability charts. They’re actually pretty decent.”

  “Really?” That surprised me somehow, but even Sputnik was nodding, albeit reluctantly.

  “Anyway. It just got me thinking, you know? The whole thing. Dark Lightning—possibly being this college student—”

  “Allegedly Tony Gale,” Sputnik put in, “though I suppose he could be just about anyone.”

  I glanced around, almost unconsciously, for Davin. Alan’s words had jolted my memory back to the times I’d spent pondering the possibility that Davin was Dark Lightning. “You mean, like, what kind of person could live the double life of a superhero?”

  “That, and…” Alan glanced at Sputnik and then back at me. “It just made me think. If Dark Lightning is a college student and superhero—if he can juggle classes and homework and crime-fighting, why can’t I?”

  “Well, DL probably has some special powers or training,” Sputnik pointed out quickly.

  “Relax, Sputnik. I’m not saying I plan on donning tights and a cape or anything. I’m just saying, maybe there’s a place for me to use my gifts to help others.”

  I looked over at my friend thoughtfully. “That would be pretty decent of you, Alan.”

  He shrugged. “Isn’t that sort of what we all want out of life anyway? To use what we’ve been given—not just to make a profit, but to leave our mark on the world? I may only be good at algebra, coding, and Call of Duty, but I will find a way to make those work for me. And for others. You know what I mean?”

  “I think I do,” I said slowly.

  “Anyway. Hope you can make the class.” He and Sputnik waved as they headed out.

  Laurel nudged me. “Alert: you’ve got incoming.”

  I glanced up, half expecting to see Brad. Instead, it was Davin, coming out of the line and carrying his tray into the dining area. He looked around but didn’t see me; he had another fresh bruise on his cheek.

  “Geez. Is that guy accident prone, or what?” Laurel shook her head.

  Images flashed in my mind’s eye: a replay of the news from the night before, when Jennifer Wright reported that Dark Lightning had foiled a mugging. Caught on tape, the hero had disarmed the mugger, but not before the creep got in a couple shots—notably, a swing to the head. I’d seen for myself how the mugger’s fist had connected with DL’s face. Granted, it had been impossible to tell how severe the blow was due to DL’s standard black ski mask…but there was Davin, wearing a bruise in the same general area. Coincidence?

  He caught my eye then, and nodded. He strolled by our table and paused. “Dr. Fisher. Just the girl I needed to see.”

  “I’ll say,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light and unsuspicious. “What did you do to yourself this time?”

  He grinned. “Not my fault, honest. Kevin opened the Beast’s door right into my face. Can you believe that?”

  “Who’s the Beast?” Laurel asked, glancing between us.

  “Hank McCoy,” Davin replied, without missing a beat.

  “Who?” Laurel looked thoroughly confused.

  “That’s what Kevin calls his car,” I explained, while digging in my bag for a band-aid. “Davin was just teasing, using an X-Men reference.” I produced a band-aid and handed it to him. “You should put some ice on that, too.”

  “I did.” His smile faltered. “Is everything okay, Anna?”

  I drew a breath, still trying to hide the conflicting, confusing thoughts that were flashing through my head. “Yeah. Laurel and I were just talking about the self-defense class that’s being offered.”

  “Right, I heard about that. Sounds like a good idea. You should go,” he nodded at us.

  “I think I will,” I said.

  “Good,” he replied. He still didn’t sit down; neither did he move on. He just looked at me a moment, with that quietly questioning look. “You sure everything is okay?”

  I nodded, holding his gaze. “Are you?”

  He cocked his head. “Sure. But I got a ton of homework this week, so I’m a little tired. But hey, we should hang out sometime—maybe this weekend?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Call me.”

  He grinned again and nodded. “Sure thing, Doc.” And then he walked away.

  As Laurel and I stood to put our trays away, she asked, “Why does he call you Doctor Fisher? What’s that about?”

  I shook my head, glancing back to where he sat by himself. “It’s his own little joke,” I told her. “When we first met, he had a cut on his arm and I gave him a band-aid. Ever since then, he’s teased me about going to med school, being a doctor, all that kind of stuff.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with Brad this weekend?” Laurel asked.

  I sighed. “Yeah, well, somehow I doubt Davin will actually call, as much as I would love him to.” And I was right: he didn’t.

  Even though I missed him, it was probably just as well. For one thing, I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that Davin might be Dark Lightning. I knew it was crazy, especially with the rest of the world convinced Tony Gale was our local hero. But even Alan had admitted that Gregory’s wacky college-student theory had merit; and then there was the bruise. Multiple bruises, really. How many times since we met had I patched him up? What if his injuries really were from fighting criminals?

  Every time I came close to convincing myself, I would get the feeling I was still missing something. I’d think of how lost and lonely he often looked, how he isolated himself, how messed up he said he was. Davin Kowalski was the kind of guy who avoided people, and they avoided him, too. I didn’t see how a mask could change that.

  Sometimes I would stay up late and ponder it, trying to put all the pieces together in my journal. Once when Kim was also up, reading a romance novel, I sighed loudly and she looked over. “Something wrong?” she asked.

  “Just…overthinking,” I said. “Sorry.” As she went back to her book, I thought to myself, I’ve been too hard on comic book girls. It wasn’t as easy to tell in real life if someone was a superhero as I’d assumed it would be. I felt like I had all these strong indications, but nothing concrete. It was, to use a phrase from Kim’s classes, circumstantial evidence.

  That same week I’d seen the bruise on Davin’s cheek, I noticed at least three other guys around campus with similar injuries. And yeah, a couple of them were athletes. But it just highlighted the possibility that I was still jumping to conclusions with Davin. In Kim’s classes they often talked about motive, means, and opportunity when investigating a suspect. I didn’t suspect Davin of any crime—anymore— but I figured the same rules applied. It was a strong possibility that he had the opportunity to be DL. He certainly was missing often enough. He was also fast, and he had told me he’d taken martial arts, so he probably had the means, too.

  But what would his motivation be? And, as Alan, Sputnik, and Gregory had so often argued, how could he know where to be
and who to help? No matter how hard I tried to put all the pieces together, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t have enough information, and I didn’t have anyone to talk it over with. So as much as I wanted answers, as hard as I tried to solve the riddle, I just kept coming up with more questions.

  It was bad enough having questions about Davin, but on top of that (and all my schoolwork, and the lingering menace of the Hallway Stalker) I was also confused about Brad. Towards the end of the semester, Lance and Laurel had a falling out (a rather dramatic one, over the possibility of cheating—apparently on both their parts); but for some reason, Brad kept hanging around.

  I couldn’t decide if I was happy about it or not: on one hand, I enjoyed the attention, just as I had with Chad; but on the other hand, there was still something about him that made me uncomfortable. I hung out with him, but tried to keep him at arms’ length so that I wouldn’t be just repeating the same mistakes I’d made with Chad.

  Brad was always very friendly—often a little too friendly—putting his arm around me, offering back rubs, and dolling out heavy-handed flattery. I really wasn’t used to being treated that way by guys, and I wasn’t entirely sure he meant any of it. Occasionally, I’d see him charming another girl, before returning to me and doing the same thing. His insincere flirting confused me so much that I sought Jill’s counsel—that, at least, I could confide in her about.

  She listened patiently as I described his touchy-feely actions and the way he sometimes called me “babe” or “sweetie,” and frowned when I told her I wasn’t the only one he treated that way. Then she calmly asked if I knew what his intentions toward me were.

  “Intentions?” I stammered. It sounded like such on old-fashioned word, out of one of her Jane Austen books (or movies). “I-I don’t really…he’s never…I don’t think he has any,” I finished lamely.

  She responded with an ever-deepening frown. “Anna, I think you ought to set some boundaries with this guy,” she replied, in her straightforward way. “I know Laurel’s a free spirit and all, and maybe she’d disagree, but this just doesn’t sound like you. I hate to say it, but it sounds like a case of ‘friends-with-benefits’ to me. Only he’s getting most of benefits.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Hanging out with Brad made me feel pretty and pursued, even if just for the moment. I knew, deep down, that there was no long term potential there. And so in a way, I was reaping the shallow, short-term benefits as much as Brad was. Maybe I already was repeating the same mistakes I’d made with Chad.

  “What if I’m just…jumping to conclusions?” I asked, feeling like I was doing just that in too many areas of my life. “I mean, should I really rock the boat and confront him? What if…what if it ruins our friendship?”

  “That’s exactly why you need to do it,” she insisted. “If he can’t handle it, then you aren’t very good friends, are you?”

  I was quiet a moment—thinking not of Brad, but of Davin.

  “Worst case scenario,” Jill went on, “you challenge him and he runs away. Not literally of course, but he might decide to withdraw and avoid you. Then again, your confrontation might be just the kick in the pants he needs to come clean with you.” She patted my shoulder. “Trust me, I know. Even though it’s scary and it might hurt the friendship, you’ll be better off if you talk to him.”

  I knew she was right. Knew it, knew it, knew it, and not just about Brad. As far as Brad was concerned, I could handle the not-knowing-how-he-really-felt. Brad’s friendship—even if it was a bit confusing—was better than facing the abyss of feelings for Davin I kept holed up. And all the questions that came with them. He was the one I really needed to confront, but at the same time, I had promised him that I wouldn’t pry. So I just kept coasting, putting off any confrontations with either guy.

  

  As the semester dragged toward the end, Brad kept flirting, and Davin kept busy. I barely saw him, and it surprised me how even in the midst of my confusion, I could honestly say that I would much rather have preferred to be spending my time with Davin then with Brad. Brad’s easy, all-American charm was wearing thin; I oddly missed Davin’s brooding loner act, his infuriating pragmatism, and the reluctant way he let me take care of him. Davin would never come out and say that he needed me, though his perpetual requirement of band-aids was obvious. But Brad did not need me at all, even a little bit. I was one replaceable face, one among many; if I dropped out, he’d find another in no time.

  This became ever more clear as the semester wore on, and glaringly obvious after one night at dinner in the caf. Davin and I happened to be having dinner at the same time—a rare occasion—but he was sitting alone, and I was with Brad. I saw him across the crowded room and let myself wonder once more about the possibility that he had a secret identity. It seemed too surreal to think that the guy sitting in the corner, dressed in black and sporting day-old scruff, could be a superhero. He didn’t look like anyone’s idea of Superman—or Clark Kent. He was scribbling in his journal again, as I often saw him do, and I wondered what occupied his mind in the same obsessive manner that he occupied mine.

  Abruptly he stood, and for a second my heart lurched because I thought he was leaving. Instead he headed to the front where the soda fountains were. I quickly stood to get a refill myself. As I walked away from the table, Laurel, Brad, and some of his buddies were laughing loudly.

  “Anna! While you’re up, can you grab me another root beer?” Brad called to me.

  I looked over my shoulder. “Sure.” I glanced at Davin. “Hey. Can you pass me another glass, please?”

  “Sure.” He handed me one. “So. On to a new one, huh?”

  I looked at him blankly.

  He nodded in Brad’s direction. “A new boyfriend, I mean.”

  “Brad is not my boyfriend any more than Chad was,” I objected. “He’s just a friend.”

  Davin took a step closer to me, so that he could speak quieter. “And does he like you for you? Does he appreciate you more than Chad did?”

  “Um, yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Does he know that you love superheroes?”

  “Yes.” I jutted my chin out at him.

  “And that you carry around a first aid kit?”

  “No, but what does that have to do with anything? He hasn’t needed it.”

  He nodded slowly. “But he lets you be the Real Anna Crístina Fisher?”

  I was nettled by his insinuation. It had been weeks since Davin had said he’d call and hang out, and I’d barely seen him. So it wasn’t like he was pursuing me, even as a friend. What right did he have to be nosy about my relationships with other guys? “Look, I never claimed he was my ideal guy. But he’s around. He takes an interest in me. He wants to spend time with me. When he says he’ll call, he actually does.” His face clouded over, and I regretted my words. “But, like I said, we’re just hanging out. It’s no big deal.”

  “You know what is a big deal?” He leaned in just a little more and lowered his voice again. “I see him flirting with other girls. A lot.”

  That stung a little; how much was a lot? I’d seen Brad flirt with other girls when he thought I wasn’t looking, a few times. Had Davin seen more? But really, a little or a lot, it wasn’t exactly a great quality in a guy. “Yeah, I know,” I sighed.

  “I didn’t say that to talk bad about him. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I won’t,” I said wearily. “I told you, we’re just friends.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “Considering he’s not pursuing me any more than his other girls, I’d say yeah.”

  “His other girls,” he repeated, sighing. He clenched his jaw and shook his head.

  “What?” I frowned at him, wondering what he had to be so angry about.

  “There shouldn’t be other girls,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to compete with anyone. You’re special, Anna. You shouldn’t be taken for granted. You deserve someone who will fight for you, like the hero
es you so admire. I mean...you’re...” he sighed, wrestling with words.

  “What?” I asked, desperately wanting to know what Davin thought of me. Everything else was forgotten. He said I was special.

  He pinned me in place with a direct look, his dark brown eyes smoldering. “You’re Mary Jane,” he said finally. “And you have all these Flash Thompsons and Harry Osborns hovering around you, trying to make a move. Because...you’re basically amazing.”

  Amazing? My heart fluttered. “But I don’t want Flash or Harry,” I murmured.

  “You want Spider-Man,” he finished for me, looking a little wistful.

  I shrugged. “And Peter Parker.”

  He looked at me, very seriously. “Then don’t settle,” he said. “If Brad is what you really want, if he really makes you happy, then…” He drew a deep breath. “Then go for it. He’d be an idiot not to drop those other girls for you. And the truth is, you’re right—at least he’s around. At least if you’re with him, then you’re….”

  “What?” I frowned.

  “Safe,” he finished, looking away.

  “Safe?” I echoed, puzzled.

  “Yeah. Whatever else he may be, if you were ever in trouble, he’d take care of you. Right?”

  “I-I guess.” Davin was being more cryptic than ever, and I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “All I’m trying to say is…” he fixed me with a serious frown, “…be careful.”

  I hoped to God he wasn’t referring to sex. “Um, I don’t know what you mean by that, but okay.” I chewed my lip nervously. “You know Brad and I aren’t…like, intimate, right?”

  “No, I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, looking briefly embarrassed. “Not with Brad. I meant this whole Hallway Stalker thing. That sicko is still out there. You know, just don’t put yourself in dangerous situations. At night. Alone.”

  “Oh! That. Right. Well, like I told you, I took that self-defense class. And I walk almost everywhere with Jill, Laurel, or Kim. Sometimes all three.”

  “Good,” he sighed, looking relieved. “Keep it up. I don’t want anything to happen to you, so be safe.”