We Could Be Heroes

by Mike Chen

  27

  WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

  Zoe had felt many different emotions in the several weeks since awakening in her Oakmount apartment. Confusion for sure; anger, excitement, joy at discovering her abilities. Pain, mostly on an emotional level when she considered all the ways she couldn’t sort out who she was.

  But this was the first time for this, whatever this was. Her pulse quickened, her breath shortened and her eyes darted.

  Oh shit, was this fear?

  Jamie’s heat signature was gone. She moved to the apartment window, her legs stuck in mud and her body burning from the inside, like someone poured acid directly into her veins. Looking out, she couldn’t pick up any heat signatures there, either. She whirled around and closed her eyes, but only darkness greeted her, none of the ghost silhouettes she’d seen with active minds. She stormed past Jamie and went straight to the unconscious man on the floor, reaching to pick him up.

  One hand should have worked. But she definitely needed two. And even then, she barely managed to roll him over.

  “Oh fuck. My powers. I can’t...” She jumped in the air, only getting about a foot off the ground, and definitely not hovering. “I can’t feel it. It’s not there. Like someone turned off a switch.”

  “Okay. Okay, okay. Look, sit down for a minute.”

  “We can’t stay here,” Zoe said. She reached over to the counter and grabbed the standing grocery bag.

  “Wait, what are you—oh no, not the eggs,” Jamie said as she dumped the bag’s contents all over the floor.

  Zoe went back to her suit, which had stayed out of the path of destruction on the coffee table. She shoved it into the grocery bag, the layered girth of folded leather causing the paper bag to reach capacity. “You said it yourself. They’re probably tracking us. Come on.”

  “You just had a seizure,” Jamie said, his words slow and deliberate. “Or something. I don’t think getting a move on is a good idea right now.”

  “We’re also breaking and entering and making a big fucking mess of someone on Kaftan’s payroll.”

  “We? I didn’t dump the groceries on the floor.”

  Zoe ignored Jamie’s neat-freak comment and knelt down, frisking the still-unconscious man. “Keys. Got ’em. Come on,” Zoe said, pushing Jamie out the door. He crossed the threshold first, then she did, followed by her closing and locking the door behind her. She gave the handle a solid tug to make sure the latch completely locked.

  And it snapped right off.

  Jamie came up next to her and the two stared at the broken mechanism, the sheared handle still in her hand. “Did you,” he said with a slight pause, “did you mean to do that?”

  “No.” The doorknob dropped to the floor with a thump.

  “Okay. This is good. Maybe your powers are slowly coming back.”

  Zoe held her palm out, pushing it around the air. Her fingers wiggled and her arm stretched; though it took several seconds, there it was.

  A slight pressure. A little bit of invisible thickness. A sense of something tangible though not quite there.

  “I think they are,” she said. One look at Jamie and the slightest of heat signatures returned. She blinked several times, just to make sure it wasn’t her eyes adjusting to the bright hallway lighting. “Slowly. But I think so. Come on, let’s steal this guy’s car.”

  “Zoe. That’s good news,” Jamie said, “but also can we not just go on a crime spree?”

  “Hey, you’re the bank robber. You can’t complain about this.” They marched in unison to the elevator, but then he motioned to the stairwell, which seemed to be a better choice for avoiding people. By the time they got underground, opening the door to the parking garage felt simple, as easy as a simple finger poke, and she welcomed the stale humid air beneath the building. Key ring in hand, she tapped the key fob repeatedly until they heard a horn beep. “There,” she said, and they made their way over to a very practical light blue hybrid car, as plain and drab as a vehicle could be except for a vinyl sticker on the back windshield that said Keep San Delgado Green.

  Jamie glanced at her. “You look stunned.”

  “This isn’t what I’d expected.”

  “Gun-toting mercs can care about the environment too. Lemme drive,” Jamie said.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “It’s not that.” Jamie shook his head, hand held open. “Do you ever remember driving?”

  “Well, no, not really. But that doesn’t mean I never got a license. Hey, maybe they have DMV records in Kaftan’s facility. Damn it, we should have checked for that at Telos.”

  “Right. If we don’t die tonight, we’ll look for your DMV records. But for now, Kaftan’s people are probably tracking us.”

  Zoe held up her phone. “You think I should toss this?”

  “No,” Jamie said after a moment. “No, let’s not tip our hand. We should head out. And let’s at least try to drive safe.”

  Zoe’s sigh cut through the grime of the underground air and she dropped the keys in his palm. “Fine. I should rest up my powers anyway. By the way,” she said, opening her door. Did the Throwing Star need a seat belt? Better to be safe at this point. “You never said which friend you were going to call.”

  “Yeah. About that.” Jamie stretched out his arm and looked over his shoulder as the car went into reverse. “I don’t know if you’d call him a friend.”

  28

  SOMEHOW, THEY IT HERE, a rest stop in the middle of redwood trees some ten miles north of San Delgado.

  Well, technically about twenty feet above the rest stop. On a thick tree branch of a redwood tree, lukewarm cup of coffee warming Jamie’s hands. The altitude’s wind bit at his cheeks, causing his long scarf to whip out behind him. The scarf was wrapped around his hood, which made zero sense from a costume design standpoint but Zoe insisted he add it when they’d stopped to grab his Mind Robber getup.

  “I don’t detect any heat signatures out there.” She pointed straight out, then gestured at the trees around them. “He’s either late or trying to bore us to death.”

  Jamie had called Detective Chesterton on a burner phone with a very distinct message: “This is the Mind Robber. The Throwing Star and I have uncovered a major crime and have joined forces to stop it. We need your help. The fate of the city is in your hands. Come alone, Moore Forest, third rest stop after the exit, eight o’ clock.”

  “Maybe it’s the location?” Zoe asked. “I think half of horror movies wind up with murder in the woods. It’s not quite ‘meet me at the dog park at noon.’ You know? Or maybe he thinks it’s a prank call? I mean, ‘the fate of the city is in your hands’ is pretty...” Zoe’s voice trailed off and she avoided his look. “Melodramatic.”

  He lowered the stupid eye mask, sweat and grime having made the underside a hot and sticky mess. It hung around his neck, sitting on the wool scarf, and Jamie realized that the thing he missed least about being the Mind Robber had to be the ridiculous outfit. “Well, let’s give him some more time. He’s—” From the distance, two headlights showed up, first as pinpricks of white in the darkness, then twisting and turning until they hit a patch of trees, creating a strobing effect along the way. They watched in silence as the car slowed to a halt, brakes squeaking and leaves crunching underneath the weight of wheels.

  “Well?” Zoe asked. The door opened and out stepped a figure, a distinctly male silhouette. Sturdy build, dark skin, bald head. He looked like a cop, despite his plainclothes appearance.

  “I think that’s him. Why else would anyone come?” he said. She knelt down, keeping her balance way easier than Jamie did in the tree. Her fingers extended and Jamie forgot to keep his voice down. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?”

  “I’m checking his memory.”

  “Did we not just realize that mental stuff drains your powers?”

  “Okay, mat
ter of practicality,” Zoe said, holding her pose. “One, we need to make sure it’s him. Two, if we’re going to do something as dumb as break into Kaftan’s laboratory again, I may need this. I should practice it in a safe circumstance. Three, I’ll take a look and see if it’s a trap. You know?” She craned her neck, angling in different views. “I’m not seeing any other heat signatures out there.”

  Wind whipped in Jamie’s face and tossed his scarf. He steadied himself and considered the options in front of them. “He might have someone listening. Or maybe he’s about to radio in for reinforcements.”

  “Do you really think they’d be a problem for us?” Zoe’s voice was bright, as if her confidence went hand in hand with how she felt about her powers. “I mean, it’s us, right? If we needed to zip out, we could do it.”

  “Okay, look. First time he came to my place, I ran through all the possibilities of what to do. If I brain-stunned him or wiped his mind, the PD would still know he came. See, that’s the thing, you have to learn that it’s not just about the functional part of dealing with someone’s memory, you have to consider all the logistical implications. We can’t just wing it. We need a plan.”

  “Did you forget I could basically fly us out of there?”

  “Zoe, let’s be realistic. You’re having problems with that. Even if you’re feeling good right now—”

  “Even if—”

  “Hey!” the man yelled. “I can hear you two arguing. Might as well come out before I record it and give it to the evidence people.”

  Mystery solved.

  Zoe’s elbow poked into Jamie’s side. She probably meant it as a friendly tap—now seemed like a really inopportune time to turn on him—but her extra strength knocked Jamie off-balance and almost off the branch. She reached over to steady him, and as their hands interlocked pine needles shook off and fluttered their way down.

  “Come on out,” Chesterton continued. “I’m here to talk. See?” In the distance, his hands went up. “Let’s chat. I’m alone.”

  “Alright,” Zoe said. Jamie glanced upward to see her straightening up, the final cowl zipped into her Throwing Star outfit. “I’m good to go. You?”

  He matched the move, sliding his eye mask back onto his face, and was fairly certain that he didn’t look anywhere near as cool as her in doing so. “Yeah. Let’s go try to do something good.” Zoe wrapped an arm around his chest and propelled them forward, the acceleration causing Jamie’s hood to blow off his head. They punched into the dark night before she extended a palm to slow their descent. Except halfway down, her powers sputtered, like a jet pack’s engine suddenly misfiring. Jamie held on to Zoe tightly and they bobbed their way down before hitting the earth slow enough for her to do it with a teeny bit of grace—but hard enough for the shock to rattle his body.

  Zoe let go and Jamie realized that he must have appeared completely undignified being carried around like a child’s doll. Chesterton eyed them both. Jamie tugged his hood back over his head and glanced back at Zoe, who was all tough grimace and steely eyes.

  No matter how hard he tried, he was pretty sure he still failed to look badass. Must be easier when you were the one who could fly.

  “Flight path’s a little off, huh?” Chesterton said. They stood silently, the detective eyeing them over before pulling out his phone and taking a photo. “I was wondering, how do you do that? I figured maybe you’re manipulating magnetic fields or something like that.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Zoe shrug. So much for keeping in character.

  “So, the Mind Robber,” he finally said, pointing at Jamie, “and the Throwing Star.” His finger angled over Zoe’s way. “Which one of you is the hero and which is the villain right now?”

  Jamie waited. This seemed like Zoe’s cue, given she was the one who flew them in and he was the one who got carried like a child. But reality showed that she still hadn’t figured out the public-facing side of her abilities, especially when she rarely interacted with people as herself.

  This was a moment for the Mind Robber.

  “There are no heroes,” he began, in his best American accent to match previous footage. “There are no villains. We have come together, not as adversaries, but partners. To join forces against a much greater foe, one that threatens every single living being in San Delgado.”

  His eyes remained locked on Chesterton’s, though he knew, he just knew that if he looked back at Zoe, she’d be choking back a laugh at his performance. “Sometimes there is a situation far more risky than you’ve ever imagined. And the only way to defeat it is to work with your mortal enemy.”

  Mortal enemy. That was a bit much, wasn’t it? But too late now. “What I mean,” he continued, “is that—”

  “Alright, alright. I get it.” Chesterton shook his head. “So he’s the mouthpiece and you’re the muscle. But that still doesn’t explain why you two extraordinaries are working together.”

  Was he not listening at all?

  “Okay. I’ll go over it again. I—”

  “It’s simple,” said Zoe. “We have abilities. Whatever gave us these gifts took our memories. Who we were before this, our families, our friends. We don’t know. But they came from the same source. A scientist named Sasha Kaftan. And she’s going to do something really, really stupid soon.”

  Jamie considered interrupting because that point hung on a bit of a technicality. They did know some details, and he’d seen the whole Frazer intake video and everything. But that information probably would have just confused things.

  “Okay. Your message implied people were in danger,” he said, once again pointing at Jamie. “Who’s getting hurt? And why?”

  “That kind of comes in multiple stages,” Jamie said, holding his accent. “When your experiments give subjects extraordinary abilities, there’s bound to be some misses.”

  Zoe jumped in without missing a beat. “And we’re not talking about Hartnell City. It’s all here. When you’re doing all that shit because you want to do some mega experiment that shuts down the city’s power grid, that’s gonna lead to a whole bunch of other issues.”

  Judgment came in the form of darting eyes, though Chesterton’s scowl didn’t seem to be one of sincere concern for the city and the victims of genetic experimentation. It looked more like a “What the hell are they on about?” complete with raised eyebrows.

  “And how did you discover this?”

  The side of Jamie’s mouth lifted into a smirk. “She has a detective board.”

  “Had.”

  “What?”

  “Had a detective board. I don’t have one in Oakmount.”

  “Right. Okay, had a detective board. And—” A hearty, full-bodied sneeze came out of Zoe, one so loud that even Chesterton stepped back. They all paused, taking turns looking at each other, Chesterton at Zoe, Jamie at Zoe, and Zoe blinking at an uncontrollable pace, teeth biting into her bottom lip. Her head shook and another sneeze came out.

  “Wow. Seriously?” Zoe said, wiping her eyes. “Was Normal sleeping on my cowl when we went to your place?”

  “Did you leave it on the floor?”

  “Yeah, but just for a minute.”

  “Don’t leave stuff on the floor. She’ll make a bed out of anything.” Jamie realized he’d let his accent slip during their spat, and all of those little bumbles collided into something that completely vaporized their momentum. Instead, he stood there dumbfounded while Zoe started wiping her allergy-induced tears from the underside of her cowl. Chesterton pulled out a notepad. His fingers flipped the sheets over the spiral binding, somehow able to see in the dimmest of light.

  “Normal,” the detective muttered.

  Oh shit.

  This time, it should have been Jamie’s turn to punch Zoe in the shoulder. She certainly deserved it, sneezing or no sneezing. But he didn’t dare, partially out of fear of her reaction and pa
rtially because now seemed like a very bad time to fracture their tenuous unit.

  “A cat named Normal scratched me,” he said. “So that tip was right.”

  “Well,” Jamie said, flipping his American accent back on, “see, that’s the thing about that tip, it was actually Kaftan trying to push my buttons and—”

  “Okay. Jamie Sorenson. I remember you. You can take the mask off. It looks like a kid’s Halloween costume. The scarf doesn’t work, either.” Zoe angled her head, glaring at that comment. “And you, you should probably take yours off too if you want to stop sneezing.”

  Was this trust? Or an admission of guilt? How did you ask to pause a meeting with police in order to discuss strategy? “I don’t know about that—” Jamie started until looking over at Zoe. Her cowl was already off, and even in the dim light, her puffy eyes were bloodshot and sniffles still took over her nose.

  “Jamie, he knows everything. There’s no need to keep this up. We might as well not look stupid.”

  Jamie blew a sigh into the night, the puff of air illuminated by the bright headlights of the still-idling car. “Fine, fine,” he said, taking off the mask. It did feel better as cool air touched the skin of his face, but an overwhelming sense of vulnerability took over.

  There was nothing left after this.

  Jamie shoved his mask in his pocket. But he kept the scarf on for the windchill factor.

  “Hey, any chance you got any nasal spray?” Zoe asked.

  “I don’t think so. But you might be in luck,” Chesterton said. He held up his phone and took photos before walking back to the open driver’s side door. He said something, though it was inaudible to Jamie’s ears.

  “Can you hear what he’s saying?” Jamie asked.

  “Kind of. The car engine’s muffling it. Maybe he’s calling in backup?”

  “Alright, you two.” Chesterton walked back over. “I’ve got good news. There’s no cats where we’re going. You might even be able to find someone who has nasal spray.”