The Guardians Omnibus

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  That doesn’t sound good.

  He turned around and looked down the street toward Market Square. In the middle of the intersection, he saw a black, low-riding sports car had crashed head-on and slid under the driver’s side of a red pick-up truck with a suspension kit. The sports car’s engine was steaming, and the truck’s driver-side wheels were a few inches off the ground.

  He heard a police siren chirp.

  The driver door of the pick-up opened and a man jumped out, swore, then immediately backed away from his truck, grabbing his head in frustration. A moment later, an officer speaking into his shoulder-mounted microphone walked to the scene. Quinn studied the scene for a moment longer, then turned to continue his run.

  The cops must be parked at their stand, so they don’t need my help; other emergency services will be there shortly.

  Except, the chatter and panic near the accident became louder. He paused and looked back again, straining to get a better view. People were gathering around to gawk, and one person jogged over to the driver door and tried to open it, but either the door was locked, or the accident had jammed it shut. The officer ordered the person to back off and tried to assess the situation.

  Flames licked out from under the engine of the sports car, and Quinn noticed the fuel tank filling hatch on the pick-up was directly above the scrunched hood of the sports car, which meant the truck’s gas tank wasn’t far away. Inside the sports car, the driver appeared to be slumped over the airbag.

  “Back away, people, that thing’s gonna blow up!” the officer yelled.

  “We have to help him,” a woman shouted.

  “What should we do?” a man’s voice asked in frustration.

  “What would Blue Spekter do if he were here?”

  Quinn raised his eyebrow and walked toward the accident, appreciating the affirmation of the bystanders. It’s a good thing Blue Spekter is here.

  “He would try to save that man,” another voice chimed. “You look strong, go save him.”

  “No, it’s not safe,” the officer protested.

  “He doesn’t have much time,” a tall, muscular man said as he approached the sports car and tried to open the driver door. When it didn’t open, he stared at it and scratched his head. On the passenger side, a woman approached and urgently rapped on the windshield, attempting to rouse the driver.

  “Break the window!” another person added.

  “It’s leaking gasoline!” someone else shouted. People started freaking out and panicking, fearing the worst.

  “Everyone, back away, now!” the police officer shouted.

  Immediately, a cacophony of panic rose up from the crowd as the would-be heroes and bystanders backed away from the accident, tripping over one another as they sought safety. Others lamented at the prospect of a fatal explosion.

  It’s now or never; it’s moments like this when I wish I had the finished super suit.

  With his eyes blazing bright blue in the afternoon sky, he ran down Daniel Street. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head so nobody would see his face or profile. When he was closer to the accident, he saw gasoline pouring out from the underside of the pick-up’s ruptured gas tank. The volatile fuel mixed with fluids leaking out from the totaled sports car.

  Seconds later, Quinn approached the sports car. The officer, hearing Quinn’s footsteps, turned and extended an arm to stop Quinn, yelling, “Don’t go near the car, it’s too…” He stopped mid-sentence and lowered his arm when he saw Blue Spekter’s glowing blue eyes. “Oh wow, it’s you!”

  Blue Spekter ignored the officer and quickly assessed the situation. He winced when a sharp, familiar pain pulsed in his temple as he sensed Blake’s proximity a few blocks away. He paused and looked in the general direction of Blake’s location, but his old friend wasn’t walking toward or away from him.

  “It’s gonna blow!” the tall man yelled, and Blue Spekter looked back at the accident. Sparks erupted from under the sports car’s crumpled hood.

  “Get back,” the officer shouted loudly, raising his hands to protect his face as the vapors ignited.

  No!

  Blue Spekter’s body ignited with brilliant blue light as he contained the full force of the explosion with an invisible shield he projected around the accident. Behind him, people gasped, unharmed, as the explosion’s shockwave slammed into Blue Spekter’s invisible shield, causing it to flash blue. Inside the shield, the fireball pushed upward and billowed into a black cloud of angry, churning smoke. The force of the blast pushed the pick-up truck several feet into the air until it fell to the ground, now a burning, twisted hunk of metal.

  Oh my god.

  Blue Spekter looked around, stunned. Somehow, the shield saved everyone, except…

  He lowered the shield and the oppressive heat of the fire warmed his face, making him squint. He took a deep breath and ran to the driver’s door. When he grabbed the handle and yanked, he pulled too hard and ripped it off the door.

  Frustrated, Blue Spekter raised his hand and froze the driver door’s glass to rapidly cool it. Then, he firmly tapped the glass and it cracked apart, the ice preventing it from shattering all over the man. Blue Spekter reached inside and tried to open the door, but the accident or the explosion had jammed it shut. Frustrated, he used his strength and ripped the door off the car, then tossed it aside.

  “Leave him alone, you freak!” someone shouted.

  Blue Spekter paused, stunned at the insult. The crowd immediately booed the person and Blue Spekter shook it off. With the airbag mostly deflated, he leaned into the car and unbuckled the bloody man. The smell of old urine and body odor triggered Blue Spekter’s gag reflex and he fought to keep his stomach contents down.

  “Come on, buddy, we need to get out of here.”

  Blue Spekter slid his arms behind the man’s back and under his legs, noting how cool the man felt. The man didn’t respond as Blue Spekter hefted his dead weight out of the small car and carried him over to the police officer. He placed the man on the ground in front of the officer. Behind him, the sports car made a sizzling sound as more sparks shot out from the engine.

  “I’ll be right back,” Blue Spekter said. He approached the burning cars, raised his hands, and blasted the vehicles with water, making sure to rip off the sports car’s hood and douse the engine. The hot metal popped and hissed as white clouds of steam violently puffed into the air, eventually replacing the black, acrid smoke.

  When the flames were sufficiently extinguished, Blue Spekter covered the mixture of liquids on the ground with ice; he didn’t want another explosion to take him by surprise. He turned back to the police officer, who was kneeling over the man, feeling his neck for a pulse.

  “How is he? He looks pretty beat up. Smells terrible, too.” Blue Spekter commented, looking at the unconscious man. His face was unusually black and blue, like he had taken a beating. The man’s light green T-shirt had several unusually large blood stains over his chest and abdomen.

  Did the airbag do that?

  Around him, people took pictures with their cameras and smartphones. Otherwise, it was eerily silent.

  “I’m no medic, but I have enough training to know this man is dead.”

  “What?” Blue Spekter asked, his stomach knotting as he knelt down next the unconscious—or dead—man. “No,” he said softly.

  The officer looked at him with kind eyes. “I’m sorry, Blue. You did your best.”

  “But I didn’t save him.” Tears rolled down Quinn’s face, shimmering in the light of his glowing eyes. He wiped his face with his hands.

  The police officer shook his head and bravely reached across the space between them and put his right hand on Blue Spekter’s shoulder. Cameras and smartphones clicked around them.

  “Don’t you dare beat yourself up over this, son. You saved all of us from severe or mortal injury. If you weren’t here…I probably wouldn’t be alive. Neither would they.” The officer gestured outward with his free hand at the crowd of p
eople who silently watched.

  “You’re a freak,” someone shouted, but several people shushed him into silence.

  Blue Spekter took a deep breath and stood up. The officer stood with him.

  “I have to go,” Blue Spekter said. People started clapping. Then, the entire crowd burst into applause and cheers.

  “This is because of what you did today, Blue Spekter. You saved these people,” the officer said.

  I don’t deserve their applause.

  Quinn looked up and lifted off, soaring fast and high into the afternoon sky.

  ❖

  Quinn tossed and turned all night, disturbed by horrible replays of the consuming fireball that had burned itself into his mind. Though he saved many lives that afternoon, someone still died because he hesitated to respond to the accident. His alarm clock went off and startled him.

  Already? I barely slept.

  He reached over and slapped it, knocking it off the nightstand.

  Since he was awake, he pushed off the covers and stretched. Willing himself to get out of bed, he yawned and then dropped to the floor to crank out his usual one hundred push-ups and sit ups. When he finished, he stood and stretched again.

  On the bureau, his phone vibrated. He glanced at it as he walked by to grab his towel from the hook on the back of his bedroom door, but abruptly turned around when he saw the message was from Blake.

  He unlocked his phone and read two words: Beef Jerky.

  What the heck?

  He set his phone down and shrugged, grabbed his towel, and went to the bathroom to get ready for school.

  When he finished dressing, he went downstairs to the kitchen.

  “Good morning, son,” Daddio said cheerfully, standing at the counter in a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt as he packed their lunches for the day.

  “Morning,” he responded, chuckling at the sight of his dad’s unruly bedhead.

  “Breakfast is almost ready. Scrambled eggs okay? I added some peppers and tomatoes to use up some leftovers.”

  “Fine,” Quinn said. He sat down at the kitchen island and folded his arms on the cool granite, then rested his head on his forearms.

  “Uh, are you okay?” Daddio asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

  “Yeah, I just didn’t sleep well,” Quinn answered, not lifting his head.

  “Oh. Have some coffee or you’ll never make it through the day,” Daddio suggested.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Quinn answered, noting his brain was still filled with morning cobwebs. He stood up and went to the coffee station to pour himself a cup of coffee. As he set the pot back in the coffeemaker, something the news anchor said on the morning news program caught his ear.

  “More with this amazing story is News Nine’s own Camilla Brenhurst, on location in Portsmouth.”

  The news program switched to Camilla, who stood with her back to the front doors of North Church in Market Square. Her straight, brown hair blowing in the morning breeze. “Good morning. That’s right, Paula, widespread disaster following a fatal accident here in downtown Portsmouth was miraculously averted when Blue Spekter, the unidentified superhero that has government and police officials confused and worried, stepped into save the day. But now, authorities claim they are much closer to identifying the vigilante after his heroic actions saved nearly one hundred bystanders.”

  What? How is that possible? I had my eyes glowing the entire time? There’s no way anyone could have photographed my face.

  Quinn’s mind raced as she explained the car accident and its aftermath to viewers.

  “Wow, that’s interesting,” Daddio said.

  “Yeah,” Quinn answered, nearly throwing up on the spot.

  As Camilla narrated what happened, the news program cut to a bystander’s video of Blue Spekter standing in front of the accident. There, in plain sight, just before he created the spectacular forcefield that contained the explosion and made his body glow bright blue, was his easily-readable maroon Clippers Pride sweatshirt. To Quinn, his choice of running gear singled him out as a high school student, which meant the authorities would be that much closer to finding him.

  The coffee-filled mug slipped from Quinn’s shaking fingers, shattering as it hit the tile floor.

  Startled by the noise, Daddio spun around from the stove and looked at Quinn, the spilled coffee, then back at his son, but Quinn’s eyes were glued to the television.

  I’m an idiot! How could I have been so careless? How could I have let them see that? What was I thinking?

  “Quinn, what’s wrong?” Daddio asked.

  Quinn pointed to the television as the newscaster repeated herself about the possibility of Blue Spekter being a high school student in attendance at Portsmouth High.

  “Oh, wow,” Daddio said, taking sudden interest in the report.

  Dad walked into the kitchen half-dressed. “Everything okay?” he asked, looking at the spilled coffee on the floor.

  Quinn’s hand was still pointing at the television. Daddio quickly caught him up as Camilla spoke with Chief Tina Applegate. The police officer who was on-scene stood next to her.

  Chief Applegate spoke. “It’s a tragedy that the man didn’t make it, but we are grateful to Blue Spekter for preventing further injury and saving lives.”

  Camilla put the microphone in front of the on-scene officer. “Do you believe the vigilante killed the driver of the sports car?”

  Why the heck would she ask that question?

  The officer eyed Camilla with annoyance. “No, we do not. Given that he arrived after the accident occurred, we cite no connection to the accident.”

  Chief Applegate raised a finger. “To be honest, we don’t believe the explosion killed the driver of the sports car. The medical examiner’s report indicates the driver was already dead or actively dying when he rolled through the stop sign. That suggests why the accident happened in the first place.”

  “So, the vigilante is not a suspect?”

  The chief sighed. “No, he is not.” That’s why she asked that question…she just made it painfully obvious to the chief that I’m a good guy…nicely done, Camilla. Maybe I can trust you after all.

  “Thank you, only one more question, Chief Applegate. Will there be any precautions or safety measures in place at Portsmouth High School today?”

  “Indeed. I can’t disclose the details, but suffice it to say, there will be a joint police and DHS presence on campus this week—including canine units—until we can rule out the theory that the vigilante is high school student.”

  Beef Jerky! To throw off the dogs in case they can smell me. Right! So, why did Blake just tip me off?

  “What can students and parents to do to remain safe today at school?”

  “If Blue Spekter is a high school student, he hasn’t done anything wrong and he’s had plenty of time to hurt people if he wanted to. That said, student and teacher safety will be our first priority. Unfortunately, I cannot publicly share those protocols at this time.” Then, Chief Applegate looked directly into the camera. Though she spoke to everyone watching, Quinn knew she spoke directly to him. “I advise you to be careful, keep your eyes open, and be aware of your surroundings. That’s all we have at this time, thank you.”

  “Breakfast is ready,” Daddio said, throwing a dish towel down on the wet floor. “I’ll pick that up after you all get out of my kitchen. Grab another mug, Quinn.”

  “Okay,” Quinn said absentmindedly as the news program switched to a story about colorful fall foliage in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. His dads looked at each other and shrugged.

  When Quinn had poured another mug of coffee, he sat at his place and idly picked at the vegetable scrambled eggs on the plate before him with his fork.

  I can’t believe I was that careless. The only saving grace is that my name wasn’t on the back of the sweatshirt. If I had worn my other running hoodie, the entire world would know who I am, and this would be a very different conversation.

&nbs
p; Do I tell my dads now?

  How do I tell my dads?

  What about the questions Camilla asked? Why was she trying to prove my innocence with such overt, slap-in-the-face tactics? Why would she even insinuate I killed the man? What conclusions will people draw on that question alone? These are crazy times and some people still think I’m a freak.

  “So, uh, how does that news story make you feel?” Daddio asked.

  Quinn looked up and shrugged. “Good, I guess. I mean, he’s a good guy, right?”

  Dad and Daddio looked at one another again with confused expressions. Dad spoke next. “Quinn, you were the one defending him several weeks ago, insisting the world needed a superhero like him. Did you change your mind?”

  “Uh, well, I guess I never expected…I never thought he would be so close to me…like, at school.”

  “Ah. Shit just got real, huh?” Dad asked.

  Quinn nodded. You have no idea.

  ❖

  That morning before school, every student and teacher walked through airport-like security checkpoints equipped with metal detectors and bag search stations. Everyone—teachers and students—were searched and checked for weapons or denied entry to the school. Several students were pulled aside and held in waiting areas for more thorough searching while parents made a fuss about their teenager’s civil rights. Ultimately, they yielded to the growing paranoia over whether or not Blue Spekter was a student at the school.

  When Quinn arrived at the checkpoint, he was pulled aside when the canine units responded to the Beef Jerky in his pocket. Thankfully, the throng of students and long lines encouraged the officers who searched him to move him along when they discovered the beef jerky in his pocket. Quinn couldn’t get a sense of whether or not the dogs lingered on him for other reasons than his fingers were covered in tasty meat flavors the dogs wanted to sniff and lick.