The Strike Trilogy

by Charlie Wood

  “Oh, is that right?” the Gremlin Wizard said with a smile. “Well, guess what, you twerpy little brat? We did just meet, and this F-list super-villain is sending a train full of innocent passengers into the haunted caves of Narandarth. How’s that for an introduction?”

  Finally freeing himself from the attacking gremlins, Strike ran to the edge of the train and blasted its steel hitch with lightning from his bo-staff, disconnecting the passenger cars. As the train sped forward, Strike, Agent Everybody, and the Gremlin Wizard kept moving with the locomotive, while the passenger cars were left behind.

  “Correction!” Strike shouted. “You’re sending me and Agent Everybody into the haunted caves of Narandarth!”

  “Still not great,” Agent Everybody replied.

  “No,” Strike said, “not really.”

  From the roof of the speeding train, the Gremlin Wizard clapped his hands together. “Oh, how surprised everyone is going to be! How shocked! When they learn who it was that brought you to Rigel! Finally, I will get the recognition I deserve! Finally, the Gremlin Wizard will get the credit I have always—”

  Just as the Gremlin Wizard was beginning his speech, the train entered the haunted cave, and a white, long-armed, moaning ghost swooped down and grabbed the Gremlin Wizard’s shoulders, ripping him off the roof of the train and carrying him off into the cave’s unending miles of darkness.

  “Something tells me he forgot to get permission for himself before we came in here,” Agent Everybody said, watching as the spirit and the Gremlin Wizard became smaller and smaller in the distance.

  “Man,” Strike replied, “he might be, like, M-list.”

  Agent Everybody peered around the side of the train and looked forward. They were barreling into the dark cave. “Yup. Except he did lead us in here, and we are still surrounded by angry spirits, so he might jump up a level or two. C’mon, we gotta get to the front of the train.”

  Strike and Agent Everybody reentered the conductor car and made their way to the controls.

  “Any chance we survive this?” Strike asked.

  “Well, the good news is the tracks through the cave aren’t very long, and we should be through in a few minutes. The bad news is what the spirits do to you when you enter without letting them know.”

  “They boo at you and tell you not to do it again?”

  “No. They rip the track out from under you, and you plummet into the water below us.”

  “Great.”

  “Your dad used to have this lightning jump he used to do. Can you do that?”

  “I can. But it takes a hell of a lot out of me. Especially if it’s high.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  “Why?”

  “‘Cuz we’re gonna need you to jump.”

  “How high?”

  “Probably high enough that it’s gonna take a hell of a lot out of you.”

  “Not to be mean, but I’ve only known you for about fifteen minutes, and I already hate you.”

  “I get that a lot.”

  Agent Everybody climbed up a ladder and opened a hatch that led out onto the train’s roof.

  “C’mon. We gotta head up top.”

  Strike followed him up the ladder. “You see? This is why I hate you.”

  On the train’s roof, Strike squinted from the wind battering his face and looked around. He gasped at the height and sheer breadth of the caves; the train was on an elevated, narrow track, speeding above a rushing river over three hundred feet below them, and there was still another four hundred or so feet above them, until the ceiling of the dark cave. The boy could see dozens of abandoned, crumbling train tracks criss-crossing the cave above him, along with hundreds of moaning, open-mouthed, white, flying ghosts, with long, dangling arms and bodies that appeared to be made out of fog.

  “Okay,” Agent Everybody said, “it looks like the track swoops down up ahead. Right after we go down the hill, we are going to—uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve already started taking the track a part. The track in front of us is gone.”

  Strike looked in front of them. The long-armed ghosts were swooping down from the ceiling and removing pieces of the train track. Now, instead of going down a hill, the track they were traveling on simply ended, leading to the open air.

  “Once we run out of track, we’re gonna go airborne,” Agent Everybody said. “We’re gonna have to hold on and hope we land on the lower level of the tracks.”

  “We’re gonna have to hold on?” Strike shouted. “How are we gonna do that?”

  “We’re gonna reach down and hold on.” Agent Everybody crouched and gripped a metal railing on the roof. “It’s not that hard to follow along, kid. You gotta keep up with me here.”

  Strike bent at the knees and grabbed the railing. “Oh, I’m following along. So far I’ve got: ‘Orion sent me on a death train with a lunatic.’ Let me know if I missed anything.”

  Strike looked ahead. They were rapidly barreling toward the end of the train tracks. Soon, there would be nothing but open air in front of them.

  “Okay,” Agent Everybody said. For the first time, nerves were evident in his voice. “We’re about to lose track. When we hit the air, hold on, and stay as low as possible. Don’t let the spirits grab you and take you away. If the train lands on the lower tracks and we keep moving, I want you to immediately lightning jump up into the air.”

  “If’ we land on the lower tracks? Don’t you mean ‘when?’”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure—‘when.’ Listen, you’re gonna have to lightning jump as high as you can, to draw all of the spirits towards you. They’re attracted to bright light.”

  Strike stared out at the darkness in front of him. “I’m going to be bait.”

  “Essentially. The vast majority of the spirits will be blocking the exit of the cave, so you are going to need to make as much energy and lightning as possible to bring them all to you, so we can get out of here.”

  “Won’t we just go right through them if they are blocking the exit?”

  “No. If we hit them, they’ll fly into our bodies, where they will slowly kill us.”

  “And we don’t want that.”

  “No. I know I don’t.”

  Strike thought it over. “So I’m gonna have to lightning jump as high as I can, and time it just right so I land back on the moving train, hopefully without any ghosts on me.”

  “See? You’re learning already. I didn’t even have to spell that part out for you.”

  “No, I’m just learning to figure out the worst-case scenario, and then do that, because it’s what you’re gonna ask me to do.”

  The two heroes now only had a few feet left to go before the end of the track.

  “Here we go,” Agent Everybody said. “Hold on. Don’t forget what to do if we land on the other side.”

  “‘When.’ ‘When’ we land on the other side.”

  “Right.”

  Strike watched the tracks. The end grew closer and closer.

  “Hold on!” Agent Everybody shouted.

  Strike crouched down and gripped the metal railing as tight as he could. As he closed his eyes, he suddenly no longer heard the wheels grinding along the track. The smoke stack in front of him was still puffing away, but that was the only sound in the vast cave. They were airborne.

  Strike opened his eyes. He, Agent Everybody, and the locomotive were now falling through the air, heading straight for a lower level of track.

  “This might actually work!” Agent Everybody shouted. “Hold on!”

  With a horrendous metal SCREEEEEEEEECH! and an explosion of bright red sparks, the train crashed onto the lower level of train tracks and wobbled wildly on its wheels. As the locomotive swayed from side to side, all while bar
reling forward, Strike gritted his teeth and tried to keep his grip on the railing. His legs went out from underneath him and his chest slammed against the train, but he managed to stay on the roof. Finally, the locomotive steadied itself.

  “We made it!” Agent Everybody shouted.

  “Oh my god!” Strike said, still lying on his stomach on the roof. “Oh my god!”

  “But there’s no time to celebrate. Look!”

  Agent Everybody pointed upward. The lower train tracks led up a slight incline, toward an opening in the cave that showed the night sky outside. But, one by one, the moaning, swarming ghosts were flying down from the ceiling and floating inside the opening. As Strike watched, the train’s only point of exit was soon infested with open-mouthed, long-armed ghouls. He could no longer see the world outside.

  “Jump, kid!” Agent Everybody shouted. “Lightning jump!”

  Strike let go of the metal railing, crouched down on one knee, and pressed his fingertips against the roof of the train. Concentrating on his powers, he sent blue electricity down his chest, across his waist, and into his legs. Once blue sparks began to spit from his boots, he stood tall and leapt upward, with lightning erupting from his feet. Shooting up into the air, with his legs leaving a stream of blue energy behind him, he raised his hands over his head and created as much bright, snapping electricity as he could.

  The boy couldn’t believe it—it was working. The ghosts that were crowded together in the cave’s exit quickly turned their eyes toward Strike and then swarmed out into the cave, flying upward toward his bright light above the train.

  “It’s working, kid!” Agent Everybody shouted.

  “But not on all of them!”

  Agent Everybody spun toward the cave’s exit. A few of the ghosts had stayed behind and were still blocking their escape.

  “Krandor!” Agent Everybody shouted. He quickly grabbed his ray gun from his waist and began blasting the remaining ghosts in the exit. As the spirits were hit by the blue ray beams, they dissipated into nothingness, but many of the ghosts were avoiding his fire, waiting for the train to reach their outstretched arms.

  With the hundreds of moaning ghosts flying behind him and following his blue electricity, Strike reached the apex of his lightning jump and began to descend. Luckily, he timed it just right, and as he fell downward toward the train, he knew he would land towards its rear. Hitting the roof with a painful THUD!, he tumbled backward and grabbed onto its metal railing, with his legs dangling off the side and swinging above the speeding track.

  Feeling the rushing air all around him, Strike looked up. There were still ten ghosts blocking the exit, and the train was only seconds away from hitting them.

  “Hurry!” Strike shouted.

  “I’m doing my best, kid!”

  Aiming at each ghost one by one, Agent Everybody fired his ray gun, and soon there were only two moaning ghosts left. Right as the train was about to reach the exit, the dead man fired two quick ray blasts, and the final ghosts dissipated into thin air directly in front of Tobin’s face. Finally, the moaning of the ghosts stopped, the train escaped into the cold, open air, and Tobin could once again see the night sky above him.

  Letting out the largest sigh of his life, Tobin lay down on the train roof and closed his eyes. Agent Everybody sat down near the front of the train, breathing heavily and watching as the green grass and tall pine trees zoomed by them.

  “We did it,” Tobin said.

  “We did it,” Agent Everybody replied. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  “It was your plan. I thought you were always right.”

  “I can’t believe that worked,” Agent Everybody said again.

  A silence passed. The two heroes rested on the locomotive’s roof, listening to it chug along.

  “Can we go back inside the train now?” Tobin asked.

  “Yes.”

  Three hours later, and without any of its passenger cars, Tobin and Agent Everybody’s train reached a small train station in Ruffalo Rock and came to a stop. As they walked down the train station’s steps, Tobin was back in his baseball cap and sunglasses, while Agent Everybody was once again the beautiful blonde Hannah. Standing in front of a green jeep, Wakefield was there to meet them.

  “Let’s make this quick, guys,” Wakefield said. “I think you might have been followed back in Holdenshmirth.”

  Grumbling, Tobin got into Wakefield’s jeep and closed the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  In the Museum of the Heroes computer lab, Scatterbolt sat at a keyboard in front of a massive screen, inspecting the lines of code he had been able to download from the Trident’s mainframe the night before. Behind him, Keplar sat in a chair, drinking from a beer and tossing the tabs from other empty beer cans into a cardboard box.

  “Okay,” Orion said, as he walked into the computer lab. “I just got off the phone with Wakefield. He picked up Tobin and our other contact and they are on their way to Ruffalo Rock. So at least we know Tobin is safe. What have you guys found?”

  “Well,” Keplar said, “I’ve totally been helping, but I’ll let Scatterbolt explain it.”

  Scatterbolt pushed a button on his keyboard and brought up a map of Rhode Island on the screen. “I haven’t found much from the information you and Tobin got from the 105th floor, but the stuff Keplar and I got from the computer mainframe has turned out to be the motherload.” The robot handed Orion a stack of papers. “One part of Rigel’s next phase involves something in Fairfield, Rhode Island.”

  “Fairfield, Rhode Island?” Orion asked, surprised. “Outside of the dome?”

  “Yes. Believe it or not, Rigel has the governor of Rhode Island secretly working for him.”

  “Say what?” Keplar said, sitting up in his chair. “I mean, of course. I knew that. Because me and Scatterbolt have been working on this together.”

  Scatterbolt typed on the keyboard, and a photo of Governor Daniel Melfi appeared on the screen.

  “According to this, Governor Daniel Melfi is the only non-Capricioun who has been allowed to travel in-and-out of the Dark Nebula since they released everyone. He’s been working with Rigel to act as some kind of transitionary figure, for when Rigel makes his move to take over Washington, D.C.”

  “My god,” Orion said, looking over the papers. “Someone from Earth helping Rigel. Though I don’t know why I let this kind of stuff surprise me anymore. And let me guess: he’s allowing Rigel to build something in Fairfield?”

  “Well, I don’t know if ‘build something’ is the right term,” Scatterbolt said. “It seems to be something organic.”

  “Organic?”

  “Yes.” Scatterbolt pulled up a picture of a crew of green-skinned Rytonian soldiers, unloading massive wooden crates from an airplane. “Or somethings organic, as in more than one. Whatever is going on in Rhode Island, it requires tons of feed from Capricious. They are secretly bringing in all kinds of feed and drugs from Capricious, and transporting it down to Fairfield.”

  “What the hell could that be for?” Keplar asked.

  “I don’t know, but whatever it is, they’re hiding it here.” Scatterbolt pointed to the screen, and the image changed to a photo of an island military base, with a sign that read: ALTON HAYES NAVAL STATION.

  “This is a defunct navy base off the coast of Fairfield,” Scatterbolt explained. “It’s no longer operational, but it’s still used as a tourist attraction—for tours, field trips, things like that. Except it hasn’t been used for anything lately, because Governor Melfi shut it down a few weeks ago, citing safety concerns and saying it needed a lengthy refurbishment.”

  “Boy,” Keplar said. “This governor sounds like a real krandor stain, doesn’t he?”

  “He does,” Scatterbolt replied. “Though no one has seen him in a few days, so who knows
what that means.”

  Scatterbolt brought up an article from the Providence Journal. Its headline read: GOVERNOR MELFI MISSING.

  Orion stared at the screen. “Whatever it means, we need to get to Fairfield now and check it out. I have a terrible feeling things just got a lot more serious.”

  “We’re going to Earth?” Keplar asked. “Now? Without Tobin?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s gonna be interesting, especially since our fakers are no longer working.” Keplar stood up and put his jacket on. “You think the Daybreaker knows about any of this? That Rigel is growing some kind of weird crap down in Rhode Island?”

  “We have to assume he does,” Orion said. “But right now, I’m afraid we don’t know much about the Daybreaker. That’s been our issue all along for the past two months: we know next-to-nothing about the Daybreaker, even after Tobin’s recent face-to-face with him. If only we could find out more, find out what’s going through the Daybreaker’s head. Find out what’s made him so quickly and easily turn on his own world. If we could only somehow get closer to the Daybreaker, and have someone speak to him, it would make a world of difference.”

  Scatterbolt thought it over. He looked up at Orion.

  “I have an idea,” the robot said. “You’re gonna hate it.”

  On Middle Street in Bridgton, Massachusetts, Orion sat in the black getaway car and looked out the driver’s side window. Across the street, he could see Tobin’s friend, Chad Fernandes, standing behind the counter of Tony’s Pizzeria, wearing an apron and tossing dough into the air. The teen boy and the restaurant’s manager were laughing as one of their female co-workers tossed a handful of flour at them.

  “You know,” Keplar said, slouched down in the backseat of the getaway car. He was wearing a trench coat, sunglasses, and yellow fisherman’s hat, which was pulled down over his forehead. “I thought I would feel pretty hidden in this disguise. Turns out I was wrong. I’m pretty sure I just look like a giant dog who’s about to flash everybody. Can we please talk to Chad and get this over with?”