Cartoon Heroes: Book One of the Dark Skies Series

by Anthony Harwood

  'What am I getting myself into,' Russell thought. Or what have I been thrown into. It wasn’t exactly his fault he’d been at the bombsite. Nor the effects of the actual explosion. But did it all mean he had the same obligation as those fictitious X-Men to defeat the bad guys and lie low when not. Hide in the shadows to make the rest of the world feel safe. There shouldn’t be a need to. But what was an idyllic thought doing in a world where the hard reality was always too sad to think about?

  Russell was no longer feeling the thrill of the battle. It had been surpassed by an unsinkable feeling in the pit of his stomach that seemed to be growing every moment he thought about what had happened and may end up happening. This wasn’t what he planned for life. He wanted to finish studying. Graduate university and follow through with Commerce. Not to mention get a decent job, settle down, get married, have kids and all the things a normal person would do. But right now, it looked like there was a long way to go before he could see any of that happening.

 

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What do you mean, ‘whipped your arse’?”

  Peerson was livid. That much was clear, “You’re telling me that two small freaks of nature managed to defeat you?”

  Reg, Pipsqueak to others, felt his face flush with anger. It was bad enough finding out he had received these odd abilities, but to be insulted to his own face by his boss was more than a little annoying. He’d put up with that kind of crap back in high school. Besides, it was this git that told him to plant the first bomb in the first place. He and Jack had done everything by the book. Made sure everything was set right. Even the doctor, Eryn or whatever his name was, said nothing could go wrong. Then the damn thing went off early and both Reg and Jack were caught in the blast.

  Instead of demolishing the building, the damn thing somehow ‘reconfigured the genetic structure’ of both Reg and Jack as well as some little git who managed to be in the building at the same time. As far as Reg was concerned, that git was a waste of thought and didn’t know why Peerson was so obsessed about him. Until Eryn explained that it was that little git that was responsible for Jack growing an extra two feet, not to mention tripling his body weight. The poor guy had always had problems with his weight. Then there were the green lights Reg kept seeing every time he got a little fumed. Well, more specifically the one that seemed to emanate from his hand.

  Sure, he’d been impressed by the new powers, but still; he was being referred to as the Freak by his old work mates, not to mention his own boss.

  “You didn’t tell us this guy could spit lightning.”

  “You’re the one who discovered his wind based powers, and you’re accusing me of neglect?”

  He had a point. Normally he wouldn’t argue with Peerson, but ever since he’d gotten his power, He’d found that he had gained a little leeway in their discussions. He wasn’t sure if it was because Peerson was a little fearful, which he doubted, or if it was a sign of respect, which was also a little too far fetched.

  “No, but you can’t expect us to know what to do with our own powers in retaliation. They are only new to us. We still need a little time to practice, get used to it all.”

  Peerson paused for a moment. He even looked them both over as if passing judgement, “Fine. You can use the gymnasium facilities out at the Carapace Industries Site. I’ll give you security clearance and make sure it’s all kept under wraps. But you better be promising me some real effort. I want that boy, dead or alive, I don’t care.”

  Reg pulled on Jack’s elbow, feeling like a little kid pulling at his parent, trying to drag him toward the toys, “Let’s go, Jack.”

  They walked out of the office and toward the lift, “That kid is stronger than we thought. Not to mention his friend.”

  “They work well together,” Jack added.

  Reg was almost hurt by that. Jack and Reg had been a team for years. They’d always worked together, whatever the job. They’d practically signed up together, “Hey, and what are we? Abbot and Costello?”

  “According to Peerson, the two stooges, not to mention chopped liver.”

  “Well, I happen to like chopped liver. And that’s how we’ll be delivering that little git to Peerson. I have an idea.”

  * * *

  He’d been called into work. Helen had called in sick, and no one else from the department was able to come in, so Russell had been called. Fortunately he’d been home. Stacey dropped him off a couple of hours earlier, giving him time to shower and dress. He felt a little dirty after the fight, not just because of the smoke, either.

  But when he got to work, he let it all go. This was work; there was time for worrying about that other stuff later. He set to serving the customers. Sabrina, an attractive young half Asian, half Irish girl worked beside him on the other register. They bantered a little when the custom was slow. It was fun. They always managed to find something to argue about, in a friendly sort of way. Something controversial like sexism or racism or one of those other isms. Normally spurred on by Russell’s mock emphaticness about one of those topics. He didn’t always believe what he was saying, but it made for an interesting conversation. They got on well, but she was no Kristen. And, of course, Russell found his eyes darting across to the computing counter every so often. She was working over there. Sometimes, he could see her behind the counter, or serving a customer by the computers. No matter where she was, or which way she was facing, he felt his heart beat skip a couple of times.

  “I need to take my lunch.”

  “That’s cool,” Russell replied.

  “Will you need cover,” Sabrina asked, having broken out of the conversation they were involved in.

  Russell nodded, about to help another customer.

  “I’ll see who I can get.”

  She disappeared from Confectionery and Russell put through the transaction. Then another, when finally someone arrived to help. He looked up to see who Sabrina had found and nearly choked.

  “Good afternoon, Russell,” Kristen chimed. It wasn’t patronising, but she always had a little singsong voice when she greeted Russell. Maybe she used it on other people as well.

  “Oh,” Russell tried to act disappointed as a joke, “She got you.”

  Kristen smiled, “I could go back if you want.”

  Russell sighed, “No. You’ll do I guess.”

  That was the end of the conversation for a while as the customers started to pile the chocolates on strong. It was easy to see why Australian doctors were starting to worry about the number of over-weight or obese people in the country. Everyone was buying chocolate. Either in the small lolly bags, which Kristen and Russell had to get as a complimentary service for the customer, or in the full boxes of chocolates that ranged from Duc’do to Lindt and even Almond Roca.

  Most of the chocolate in Greyson’s was of the more expensive quality, but that didn’t stop people from buying it. Especially the Lindt Lindor variety. They came in several sizes and colours, even sold individually for eighty cents. They were absolutely delicious. A nice round shell of chocolate filled with a soft creamy centre of more chocolate that seemed to burst as you bit into it. It was truly delectable. And very popular.

  Finally the line dropped a little until both Russell and Kristen stood idly. He leaned back against the till while she surveyed the crowd. Not hard to do with her height.

  This was his chance. It had been ages since Kristen had worked over in confectionery, and it could be a lot longer until the next time. She used to come over regularly to cover for lunches. But she had grown in importance in her own department, meaning some of the more recent casuals were sent over instead.

  This was truly his chance. No customers, no other work colleagues. No one to feel embarrassed in front of. But he couldn’t just blurt it out, could he? What if the answer was “No”? What if he ended up looking like a bloody idiot?

  All he wanted was to ask her out. Once he got the answer; that was it. If yes, great! If no, at least he would know
he was heading along the wrong path.

  They were just standing there, not looking at each other, as if they were both too nervous to look. It was probably just Russell’s reading in that, but it was possible.

  No. That was it. No more stuffing around.

  “At the risk of sounding like a complete idiot…” There. He’d started. And was about to go on when his heart finally reacted to his nerves.

  It leapt into his throat, along with a gallon or so of blood that rose to his burning face. His whole body was thudding at fifty thousand beats a second, in time with his heart.

  He was choking, not literally. But the words had caught in his throat.

  “Never mind.” He gave up, but his nervous reaction hadn’t.

  Kristen finally looked at him. He could feel her eyes boring into him. What must she be thinking? Russell knew he was as red as a beetroot. He knew he was practically vibrating like a guitar string. Kristen had to know what was up.

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” He couldn’t say it. He’d started to, but common sense or something else got in the way.

  Kristen laughed slightly, “No, you can’t just start like that and not finish. You have to-”

  Russell leapt at it. His head felt so light as he let the words flow, his body still in the throws of absolute nervous tension.

  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in seeing a movie some time.”

  Silence.

  Kristen looked away. Russell could feel it. It was going to be bad.

  He prepared himself for what was coming. It was like slow motion. That very first word came out and Russell thought his legs would give in.

  “No,” But it wasn’t over, “You know I work six days of the week, plus uni so I don’t have much time.”

  He wasn’t going to give up that easily, “So do I, practically, but sometime after work.”

  “Okay.”

  Okay? ‘My God!’ Russell nearly collapsed, the blood flooding his brain and face seemed to drop, like a tidal wave to the rest of his body. Okay. Great!

  The customers started to come again. Both sales assistants began serving, but Russell’s mind was elsewhere. He was happy, finally. He had half expected the ‘No’ to stand, but it was one of those Yes-No's. When it hinted at an affirmative, only disguised as a negative, as if she actually wanted to, but considered it an impossibility.

  He shook his head, clearing his hair from his face and trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. This was work. He could think about it all later.

  * * *

  As he left work, he was on a high. Who wouldn’t be? Russell kept thinking about the conversation he’d had with her, like a dream he didn’t want to let go of, wishing he had a mental camera he could just rewind and play over and over again. He headed out the first floor entrance of the store that led to the train station walkway, allowing pedestrians to safely cross the busy street below. It would have to have been one of the most used and oft-times over crowded footpaths in the entire city. Even now, as the city began to close down, there were hundreds of people scrambling to get to a train in time.

  Russell ignored them, not out of arrogance, but out of a blissful reverie. He really didn’t care about anything else. Except her saying “Okay.”

  He pulled his jacket tighter around him, not that it was cold, but the warmth of it made him settle a little deeper into his thoughts. It was amazing that such a pretty girl could even consider saying “okay” to someone like Russell.

  He was jarred out of his reverie as the ground beneath his feet began to shake. Earth quake? Big train pulling into the station?

  Being on the first floor was not the most secure place to be in the prior occasion. People began to squeal as the bridge began to heave a little, pressure cracks appearing in the tiles.

  The vibrations increased in intensity and the glass wall, which acted as a weather shield on the bridge exploded in either direction, showering the street below and virtually attacking the crowd cowering beside it. Russell could already see some people were injured by the glass, not to mention some of the debris that had started to break away from the ceiling.

  The very floor beneath his feet was starting to undulate and the people around him began pushing their way along the walkway, panic obviously building as they went.

  There were screams on the bridge as some parts of the flooring gave out, revealing considerable holes dropping the twenty or so feet to the concrete and cars.

  He knew he needed to act. He didn’t even know what was causing it, though a few options were springing to mind.

  He called up his powers for the second time that day and compressed the silver strands into a wall of air at the centre of the bridge. And pushed.

  There would have been at least thirty people jammed on the bridge, fighting to stay on there feet and make their way off the structure. But due to the violent shaking, they weren’t getting too far. So Russell helped a little, giving them all a push and a little support, almost cushioning the people caught in his wind-wall, while still moving them forward. Soon the pedestrians were clambering to relative safety within Greyson’s or further along the walkway.

  He felt the sweat on his brow. After the work out this morning and the effort of maintaining the wind-wall, he was beginning to feel the dredging effect on his stamina. Obviously he had his limits.

  That was when Dufus stepped up to the bridge. He looked like a giant caricature of a cowboy ready for a gun-slinging showdown. His massive bulk on his arms somewhat hindered their ability to dangle straight by his sides, giving him the crook arm appearance. But the beefiness of his chest gave the impression of a massive bull ready to squash you in one charge.

  There was nothing for it. Russell stepped up to the challenge, standing casually on the opposing end of the bridge. Neither one making a move, simply staring the other down. Of course, Russell had the advantage there as he could still conjure up his abilities without the need to move more than an eyebrow. But Dufus’ power was completely physical.

  It was time to speak, “What’s up with you?”

  “We seem to have a little problem.”

  The voice came from behind him. It had to be Pipsqueak. Russell turned and backed up slightly, as to keep both men in sight. Sure enough it was the smaller man. He was casually strolling up the walkway toward him.

  “And what would that be?”

  Pipsqueak smiled, “You.”

  Dufus started to make his way along the bridge, being careful to avoid the holes and the cracks. Obviously his weight was a little too much for the bridge now it was shaken and weakened. It began to creak slightly as he moved.

  Russell continued to back up. But both men continued to approach.

  “I don’t know why I should be a problem. What did I ever do?”

  He needed to get as much information as he could. Even if it meant staying in danger a little while longer. Sure, he could handle these goons for a bit, or enough to get away, but he also needed to find out what the devil was going on.

  “Well, there was that little incident this morning.”

  “You started that. The whole bomb thing.”

  “Which brings us to the other thing; you’re interference with the first accident.”

  Obviously he meant the bomb in the car park. The way he said it implied the quotation marks some people would signify with their hands.

  “I didn’t do anything. I guess I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Pipsqueak’s smile grew wider. His almost weaselish face looked to be near splitting in two, “You have a habit of that it seems. Now, you can either come peacefully, or, well, not.”

  “Hmm. Let me think,” Russell turned and bolted as he shouted his response, “Not!”

  The two men began to run after him, obviously predicting his move. What they didn’t predict was the security guard from Greyson’s.

  Russell had a lot of friends at work, some of which we
re there for store security.

  The glass entrance had already been opened by the bystanders watching the three men. But as Russell began to run, one of the security guards broke free from the crowd and tackled Pipsqueak to the ground.

  The small man collapsed under the onslaught, slapping at the guard who had taken him down. That was when Dufus arrived. He bent down and took hold of the guard’s shirt back and heaved him away, virtually throwing him like a rag doll back toward Greyson’s. The guard landed hard, too stunned to get up straight away.

  “Get after the little git!”

  Pipsqueak jumped to his feet as Dufus followed the order and began lumbering along the walkway. Well, it looked like a lumber, but he did it with incredible speed.

  Russell was nearing the end of the walkway. If he were to jump over the edge he had a forty foot drop into a vacant block that was being developed as a supermarket and specialty shop arcade. The other option was to grab onto the top railings of the skinny stairs that lead down to street level and head down that way. It would slow him up considerably was his only thought.

  It was, however, the safest option.

  He lashed out with his hand and yanked himself on a wide arc, using the rail as a pivot before bolting down the stairs. Some were loose due to lack of maintenance, but Russell had to slow anyway for the mere size of the steps. He could hear Dufus’ clodhoppers resounding closely behind him, and getting even closer as he tripped over every odd step. The chances of getting away were getting slimmer and slimmer. Finally, his feet made the bottom step and he launched himself up the road, unable to hear his pursuers due to the roar of the cars along the road beside him. He could tell from the expressions on the drivers' faces as they drove past, however, that Dufus or Pipsqueak were gaining.

  A sharp pain drove into his back as the air around him flashed a bright green. The force of Pipsqueak’s bolt sent him floundering for footing, sending his upper half toppling over his feet.

  The ground came at him faster than the cars beside him would have and his arms sprang up protectively. The bones in his arms jarred as he made contact and grazed as his body continued with the momentum. He could feel the blood oozing out of the wounds that now ran the length of his forearm and elbow.