Diary of a Teenage Superhero

by Darrell Pitt

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I fly low over the landscape back toward The Agency complex. I do it just as Mr. Brown trained me. I stay low to keep off the radar. I come in to land near one of the bunkers, angle one of the cameras away from me and use a hard clot of air to unlock the door.

  The stairwell embraces me. A few minutes later I’m making my way through the corridors of the main complex. Soon I’m crossing The Cavern. Administrative personnel and scientists are everywhere, but I’m looking for one man.

  There’s no doubt in my mind most of the employees here don’t know what’s been going on. How could they? The Agency works like most secret organizations – everything is on a need to know basis only. There are a hundred projects taking place at any one time. But there are some people who know. They’ve always known what was intended for us; the experiments, the abuse, the deaths.

  And one man has certainly known right from the start.

  I make my way to our dorm rooms first. I hope to get the others behind me before I go on the attack, but they’re nowhere to be found. A sense of disquiet seizes me. Maybe they’re out partying. Or maybe on some impromptu training exercise.

  Or maybe they’ve been ambushed like me.

  When I return to The Cavern I spot Mr. Jones stepping out of an elevator. His eyes widen slightly when he sees me. It’s his only giveaway, but it’s all I need. I grab him and push him back through the elevator doors. They slide shut behind us.

  “You’ve known all along?” I ask him. “Haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re –”

  His reply is suddenly choked off.

  I tell him. “It’s hard to speak without air. The vocal chords don’t work. The lungs refuse to function.”

  He tries to grab me, but I use my powers to force his arms down by his side. Then I hit the emergency stop button for the elevator.

  “How long can the average person survive without air?” I ask. “Someone told me the world record is seventeen minutes. How long do you think you’ll last?”

  Jones looks at me in horror as he starts to suffocate. Finally he shakes his head from side to side. His eyes fill with terror.

  “You want to speak?”

  He nods energetically.

  “Really? And you’re going to tell me the truth?”

  A kind of pathetic horror comes into his eyes.

  I release him and he falls gasping to the floor. His hand makes for his jacket.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warn him. “I can crush you like an ant.”

  I don’t actually know if I can crush him like an ant, but it’s a good line.

  He gasps. “What do you want?”

  “Where is Twelve?” I ask. “Where are my friends?”

  “They’re in the main lab on Level Fourteen.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I force his arms back to his sides. “Please,” he begs. “I really don’t know. I think he’s lost it. He said he needs to carry out more experiments, but –”

  “But – what?”

  “He’s not a scientist,” Jones says desperately. “What could he possibly be doing?”

  What could he be doing?

  That’s the sixty-four million dollar question. I don’t know what you get when you combine an alien without ethics, a lab full of potent mixtures and a collection of human guinea pigs. It’s a terrifying thought. I hit the elevator button and it sinks down into the earth.

  The elevator draws to a halt and the doors open. I grip Mr. Jones by the arm and draw him close.

  “We’re going for a little walk down the corridor,” I tell him. “If you make so much of a squeak, I’m going to tear your head off. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re going to lead me to this lab,” I say. “Let’s move.”

  We make our way down the corridor. Two scientists pass by and give us a long glance, but say nothing. It’s Mr. Jones who gets us through; he must have the clearance to get into just about every part of The Agency.

  “I want you to know I was against these experiments,” he pleads. “I’ve got kids of my own. Why would I want to harm –”

  “Shut up.”

  He shuts up. We reach the door of a lab and Jones takes out a swipe card. The door clicks open. We shuttle inside.

  My friends – Brodie, Chad, Dan and Ebony – are lying unconscious on lab tables. I release Jones and grip Chad’s wrist. Thank God. A faint pulse. He’s still alive. My eyes scan the lab. There is equipment all around. Pieces of machinery fill every corner. Dark shadows hide benches of test tubes, beakers and gadgetry I don’t understand.

  This is where we were born.

  Correction.

  This is where we were reborn.

  The alien known as Twelve steps from the shadows.

  He’s laughing. Actually laughing.

  “What’s all this about?” I ask.

  “Do you know how long I’ve been watching your race?” he asks. “I’ve been stuck on this insignificant little world at the back end of the galaxy for over two thousand years. I’ve watched and tried to steer you away from your animalistic natures – and you know what I’ve realized?

  “I don’t want to. There’s something…alluring about humans. The way you happily kill and mutilate and torture each other. It’s strangely intoxicating.” He shakes his head. “Oh, the other Bakari don’t share my beliefs. In fact, they’re in the process of having me replaced. Can you imagine? I’m returning home after two thousand years.

  “Guess what? I don’t want to go.” Twelve laughs. “I’m more human than Bakari now! I wanted Doctor Richards to turn me into the ultimate human! Can you imagine? A human who can kill and destroy with ease, tearing apart anything in his way?”

  “But when I told Doctor Richards my intentions he thought me mad! He and the other scientists stole you away from here so that you would be safe! We only caught up with them again when we realized they were using Cygnus Industries – one of our safe houses – as a meeting point.

  “But Typhoid was ahead of us. They wanted the secrets of The Alpha Project too.”

  “You have your formula,” I tell him. “Just let me and my friends go –”

  “Don’t you understand?” Twelve screams. “We no longer have the formula. Richards destroyed it before leaving the base. The remaining batches he mixed together so that we could never replicate it again.”

  His face cracks into a leer. “All the formulas. Mixed together. Do you know what that means?”

  Actually, I don’t. I glance over at Jones and even he looks terrified. I’m beginning to realize that Twelve has not just exceeded his authority, but also his reason. Somewhere along the line he has crossed the fine boundary between sanity and madness.

  “Did you really think we would leave such power in the hands of children?” he asks.

  Twelve curls his hand into a fist and holds it out in front of him. He unravels it and stares at his palm.

  He’s lost it completely, I think.

  But then a tiny flame appears in the palm of his hand. It grows into a white ball of fire, hot and bright in the dimly lit laboratory. With sudden horror I begin to understand what he has done.

  “You’ve drunk some of the remaining formula,” I say.

  “No.” The alien begins to laugh. “I’ve drunk all of it.”