Heroes Without, Monsters Within

by Sheryl Nantus

  He put one hand over his eyes. “Please note that I’m being a total gentleman considering you don’t have any pants on and your shirt is creeping up. I’m leaving now in a most frustrated mood. We await your arrival in the front room.” Hunter backed out of the room with a short laugh.

  I glanced down at my shirt now gathered around my midsection. The sheets were tangled about my legs, showing more than a little midriff. The bandage hung off my arm, the cut nothing more than a thin red line. I yanked the bandage off and tossed it into the garbage can.

  I scrambled for a clean T-shirt and bra. Grabbing a pair of jeans out of the dresser took another minute, during which I made quick work of the raspberry jam donut.

  With a last swipe across my mouth to remove any traces of sugar icing, I strode into the living room, cup in hand. It wasn’t pretty, but at least I was dressed.

  Steve rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a loud yawn. Peter sat next to him, leaning forward with an eager look. David walked around the corner, carrying a plateful of warm, buttered croissants that he placed onto the table.

  “Okay, this just came up out of the files about a half hour ago,” Jessie said. “A small seismic event occurred not too long before the big one in Erie.”

  “How small a seismic event?” I sat beside Peter, who shuffled over a quarter inch closer to Stephen.

  “Small enough that no one noticed. At least, not until we started looking for it.” His long, slender fingers danced across the keyboard, bringing up a satellite image on the large television screen in front of us. “It wasn’t much, hardly enough to register on the seismic scale.” He slid the chair over to the edge of the computer table, picking up the file folder. “When Lamarr walks, he sends out a small seismic event with each and every step, so small as to be almost invisible. The Agency made a quick note of it, but when I saw that, I sent out queries to see if anything like that had been recorded since NYC.”

  I grimaced inside, remembering the first encounter with the alien forces. It’d become standard to see our fight there as the first battle of the war, when there’d been simultaneous events happening around the world.

  Jessie continued. “Think of it like footprints leaving a little trail behind him. No one bothered to worry about it before, not with the Agency arranging his pickups to and from the battle scenes, but now they’re out in the open and easy for us to see.”

  “Are they dangerous?” I asked. “Can he set off quakes by just walking over fault lines?”

  “Not likely. It’d be a hell of a fluke. The Agency did the homework on that, and they didn’t worry about letting him walk around.”

  “Okay, that’s one blessing.” I sipped the hot sweet tea. “Now what?”

  “We just discovered another series of recent footprints heading out West. Every now and then we get a hit, probably when he hops off a bus or out of a car or something. But definitely headed west.”

  I swallowed the last of the tea and placed the mug on the table. “The game’s afoot, as it were. Are we ready to go?”

  “I’ve called Outrager and he’s having the jet prepped out at the airport. Give them a half hour, tops.” Jessie glanced at Hunter and then at me. “I have to remind you this only works if he’s got his feet on the ground. There may be long empty spots between hits where we don’t know where he’s headed.”

  I got up from the sofa and arched back, listening to my spine crack. “As long as you can send us course corrections in the air, we’re good. Everyone get prepped and get upstairs as soon as you’re ready, please.”

  I went to the wooden hooks set in the wall near the stairs and picked up my leather jacket. David stood in the entrance of the kitchenette and watched me check for my gloves before putting it on. He handed me the nylon cord harness from another hook.

  “Be careful,” he muttered. “We’ll be in touch as usual and on call if you need us.” One index finger rose to wag in my face. “Be. Careful. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Or worse.” His expression said it all. He’d been close to May as well.

  I leaned over and kissed the elderly bookstore owner on the cheek. “Always, sweetie. And thanks for the tea.”

  Hunter stood by my side, grinning. “Hey, if you want to whip up some of those chocolate chip cookies before we get back, that’d be great.”

  David scowled, waving us out with one hand. “Get going before I decide to thrash the lot of you. Who can’t hang up a wet towel, I ask you? A wet towel?” He turned towards the rest of the team. “And who can’t put their glass in the sink? Were you all raised in a barn?”

  I trotted up the steps before Hunter, leaving behind Peter and Stephen, who I knew to be the major offenders. David’s voice rose behind me, detailing the problems of housekeeping for superheroes.

  The day was in full swing below us, crowds of tourists wandering from the bookstores to the bars, from the hotdog carts to the cafes already filled with the lunch crowd. I inhaled deeply, catching the scent of an onion roasting on the grill beside a few fat brats waiting for customers. My stomach growled in response as I fiddled with the harness.

  Hunter pressed an energy bar into my hand. “A donut and tea. Really?” He shook his head and chuckled before grabbing my hand. Behind me the boys lined up, one beside the other.

  “Why can’t we ever just head for the beach when it’s sunny and warm like this?” Peter griped. “I’m so pale someone’s going to mistake me for my own ghost.”

  Steve laughed. “We’ll buy a tanning bed.”

  I would have said something about the dangers of tanning beds and the fact we could just drop some lawn chairs on the roof, but I was busy concentrating. “Hold on tight.” I built the invisible bubble around us, my black gloves helping channel and harness the electromagnetic waves. “I’m going at full speed, no sightseeing this time and no posing for tourists. The jet should be ready when we get there, and we’re getting airborne as soon as possible.”

  “Jo?” Jessie’s voice came through the link as we rose.

  “I’m here.” I angled us out over the top of the buildings. The island airport shone in the distance, a small dot of land resting on the water. I ripped off the edge of the wrapping with my teeth then bit into the faux chocolate bar. Hunter persisted in trying to feed me granola and healthy stuff when all I wanted was a good gooey mess of chocolate and caramel with extra sugar. We needed to talk about my dietary requirements, among other things I wasn’t getting enough of.

  “Simon and Max have the plane ready to go. We’re estimating five, six hours flight to get you over the general area, so you can rest up more if you want.” A distant mumbling came over the wire. “David says to get a decent meal as well, more than just tea and donuts.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I replied around mouthfuls of chewy nuts and raisins. “Let us know if Lamarr is on the move. Did you send Outrager an update?”

  “Yep. He wasn’t happy, but that’s nothing new. Wanted to come along or send one of his buddies on the plane. Told him you were already wheels-up and gone.”

  I shook my head. “The pilots work for the Agency. He knows where we are and what we’re doing.”

  “Then we’re fucking with him and he knows that we know that he knows.” Jessie chuckled. “Works for me.”

  Hunter let out a snort. “If he gets snarky, tell him that you know about the shape-changer and Vegas. That’ll shut him up.”

  I thought for a second about asking Hunter what he was talking about but reconsidered. Some stories are best left untold. Especially on a half-empty stomach.

  Jessie’s barking laugh hurt my ears. “Gotcha, dude. Just don’t let my girl down.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Touchdown in a minute, fellas. Brace yourself.”

  The jet sat on one of the two runways, the only other aerial companion in sight a traffic helicopter from the local radio station. The small whirlybird was already setting up to cruise along the tarmac and get aloft. I settled on the ground by the small building that served as a terminal, relax
ing as the tension on the harness went slack.

  Peter waved at the woman inside the terminal. She looked down at her computer screen and then at us, lifting her hand to wave us on. One of the good things about being superheroes was that we never worried about getting through Customs.

  I spotted the two pilots making one last walk-around as we went up the stairs into the passenger cabin. I didn’t like having Agency employees with us, but there was no way I could fly all of us halfway across the U.S. and have any strength left to fight. A commercial flight would be nothing but a freak show with people and fanboys trying to get autographs. The boys had their own fan clubs, but I’d always been a fan favorite and it hadn’t abated due to my new status. Not to mention there’d be questions about where we were going and what we were doing and so forth—not exactly conducive to finding a rogue super and bringing him in. We’d dodged the press bullet so far, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before some smart journalist put the pieces together and we’d be on the hot seat explaining where we were jetting off to.

  I fell into a window seat and closed my eyes, thinking about Brian Lamarr. I could understand his rage, especially after years of abuse at the hands of the scientists who poked and prodded us, slapped explosive plugs in the back of our necks and made us dance for the public. But I didn’t have to like it. And I sure as heck didn’t have to put up with it when innocents were threatened. Slammer/Steve had made the transition into being a good guy, Harris Limox possibly. I had to try with Lamarr, at least give him the chance to choose a different road.

  Something nudged my elbow.

  I turned to see a bagel, bursting at the seams with cream cheese, beckoning to me.

  “We’ll be airborne in a few minutes. Dug this out of the kitchenette over there. Ain’t pretty, but David’d kill me if I didn’t keep you fed. We’ll grab something when we get on the ground in Los Angeles or wherever we end up.” A small bag of hard candy landed in my lap. “If you need a quick sugar rush.”

  I plucked the napkin-wrapped snack from his hand and nibbled on the bagel. “Thanks. We should all get some more rest. And it’ll help with the jet lag.”

  Hunter jerked a thumb behind us. I got up and turned around, clutching at the candy. Steve and Peter were already sound asleep, Steve letting out a low rumble as he shifted in the small and overtaxed seat. Peter mumbled something about potatoes before rolling over, facing the window.

  “Don’t have to tell them twice. They did a good job yesterday, but they’re still toasted.” Hunter put his hand over his mouth, covering a yawn. “I’ve set a wake-up call with the pilots for an hour before we get near the coast, if we make it that far.”

  I nodded. “You going to take first watch? I don’t want all of us to be asleep.” The bagel was soft and fresh and smothered with creamy goodness. Dang, the man could feed me right.

  “You got it. Eat and rest.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I’ll hop to the front and gab with the pilots for a bit. See what sort of gossip I can dig up. I’m still Agency in a way, might be able to grab some info.”

  “Okay. Later,” I mumbled around mouthfuls of food. The bagel was gone in a few more bites, quieting my stomach. I picked up the small pillow from the empty seat beside me and wedged it between my head and the window.

  The next thing I knew I was being shaken awake, a heavy hand on my shoulder demanding my attention.

  “Trouble,” Hunter whispered.

  I snapped out of a fog. “Define.”

  “We’re just over Nevada. Jessie says Lamarr’s tracks end here.”

  “Here?” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, still groggy. “The entire state?”

  “Las Vegas area. Big fat footprints just stopped here. No movement for over an hour. Jessie’s betting our rogue’s stopped for a rest. Or to prep for an attack.”

  “Oh fuck.” I tossed the pillow across the cabin. “Get us on the ground, now, before I pop the door and we all pretend to be flying Elvises.”

  Chapter Four

  I’d been to Las Vegas a handful of times, most of them battles that involved accidentally running into a supervillain and smashing them into the ground. Of course, this usually took place far out in the desert, away from the neon pillars and the gambling tables. On our last visit Mike and I snagged a room at the Palms and partied a week away after one hard-won bout with Jessie James the Third and Lucky Luke. It was a gunslinger-themed battle, and we’d taken some hard shots during it, resulting in a sprained wrist on my part and a whole lot of bruises dotting Mike from head to toe from being rocked around in his metal suit. It still hadn’t damped our enthusiasm for the dance floor and a moonlit quickie on the hotel roof.

  Fight hard, party hard. It sounded better than the first rule.

  As the jet dipped towards McCarran Airport all I could think of was the horror if an earthquake hit Sin City. The Strip, Fremont Street, all the major hotels crumbling and crushing in on themselves. The Luxor pyramid collapsing in. The great MGM lion roaring as it fell forward onto the ground and the fleeing pedestrians. The small Statue of Liberty falling over the faux fireboats along with the rest of the New York, New York fake skyline, and the roller coaster flying off into the devastation with the smell of burning metal and dying tourists.

  It’d be a disaster beyond belief.

  “He’s no dummy,” Steve spoke, moving forward to sit beside me. He wedged himself into the narrow seat with a curse. “No use going out to Cali. They’ve got most of the buildings set up for earthquakes and have response teams ready to go. Better to go somewhere where you can do real damage.” He rubbed his hands together. “Not a stupid man. Which makes him more dangerous.”

  Peter muttered something as he stumbled down the aisle towards the bathroom. Hunter stayed up front with the pilots through the landing. I gritted my teeth as the wheels bumped and whined on the tarmac, the small commuter jet twisting around on a dime to shoot down a side runway.

  We stepped off the plane in a time-lag fog, the bright sun already burning through my eyes into my brain. “What time is it?” I looked at Peter. Watches don’t work for me, haven’t since the accident. I figured that out after I fried the fourth one, the delicate mechanism sitting on my wrist for exactly thirty seconds before it gave up the ghost.

  “Uh, adjusting for time and travel,” he replied with a bit of a blank look on his face, “about one in the afternoon. We left at noon, Toronto time, flew for four hours and traveled back three hours thanks to the time zones.”

  “I don’t do time travel.” There was a reason why I’d insisted on East Coast fights whenever possible.

  We had landed far from the main terminal at a small building I suspected was used for local royalty and famous people looking to avoid a crowd scene. A stretch limo sat nearby, the engine idling with no one in sight.

  A camera truck squealed to a stop on the other side of the chain-link fence, dust clouds rising from the tires. The driver leapt out to race around the back of the van as a blonde hopped out, power suit at the ready and a notepad in hand. The dug-up dirt and tracks signaled this was a well-used spot to ambush incoming celebrities.

  “Ugh.” I squinted into the bright daylight. “Please tell me that’s not local media.”

  “I ain’t going to tell you anything.” Steve crossed his arms, the metallic veins even more noticeable in the bright desert sunlight. “Looks like someone squawked that the Protectors were on the move.”

  I recognized the woman. Donica Hammer. One of the best gossip columnists online and off. She lived for celebrity exposés and digging up dirt on the rich and famous.

  This could not be good.

  “Great. Hunter, take care of this. Please. And don’t feed the rumor mill more than you have to.” It was one of the things I hated most about being a super, the constant interviews and demands for sound bites. There had to be some advantage to being the leader.

  “Sure.” He strode over to the fence, beaming as if I’d just handed him the keys to the city. Hunter
wriggled his fingers in the steel diamond mesh as he yammered to the reporter peppering him with questions, gesturing at us every few minutes. The cameraman swooped back and forth with a vulture-like diligence, getting as many shots as he could of us lollygagging around the jet. At least it wasn’t a live feed.

  “I don’t like this,” Steve groused. “Never liked the press. Have these clowns tagging our asses every time we move.”

  “Can’t avoid them forever.” I pulled my eyes back from staring at Hunter’s jean-clad butt. Even though his superpower was basically nothing more than the ability to affect the odds, he’d stayed in fine, fine shape. Really fine. Like, edible fine.

  “Jo.” Peter frowned. “Not that I’m an expert in media stuff and all that, but they’re very interested in taking shots of you. Not us, just you.”

  The unsuspecting ground crew became the target for my ire just because they were there, milling around the jet. I focused in on one poor baggage handler looking for something to do since we hadn’t brought anything with us. The pilots, picking up on my bad mood, were still inside the plane. The crew continued with the refueling routine, trying to ignore us as they looped long hoses around and across the ground. It was better than taking shots at the reporters and seeing how many I could tase before they cut and ran.

  I gestured towards the building. “Let’s go inside. No use roasting our brains out here.” I didn’t mention escaping from the cameras.

  The hangar/terminal/hiding place held a handful of chairs, a single counter with a bemused-looking woman glancing at us as she listened to a young man nattering at her and a lone vending machine selling cold water for five dollars a bottle. Peter glanced at the shelves of bottled water and shook his head.

  “It’s Vegas,” I offered in way of explanation. “Better to buy a large bottle and then split it up into smaller bottles.”

  Steve grunted. “Sounds like you’ve been here before.”