Cartoon Heroes: Book One of the Dark Skies Series

by Anthony Harwood

  When he got to his locker, he found his keys, still hanging from the lock. Luckily no one had taken it upon themselves to take them to security or put them in their own locker.

  Russell quickly grabbed the keys and tucked them away in his new jeans. Then re-considered.

  They wanted these keys. Well, the key ring at least. He couldn’t walk around with them in hand.

  He took the keys out again and filed through them. He only really needed two of them any more. His locker key and the house key. He removed those two and put them into his pocket. The rest, and the key ring, had to be put somewhere safe. But where?

  “Russell?”

  He turned, almost jumping out of his skin, “Pam? What are you doing in here?”

  She smiled, “Security isn’t the best here. Where have you been, you look awful?”

  “Thanks,” He looked around and moved to her, taking her elbow in hand directing her back to the floor, we need to get out of here and find somewhere safe to talk.

  She spoke as she moved; now taking hold of his hand, “I know a place.”

  * * *

  There was a building. Dark orange in colour, with a large arch set in the middle, the entrance.

  Eight windows seemed to join with the footpath, indicating a basement of sorts, above those were eight larger windows and above those once more, nine, including one over the door. They were arched; the architecture above suitably shaped with a complimentary gothic style to add and draw character, developing a nice, yet trendy façade to the building. All the windows, however, were blacked out and a large black gate was erected in front of the door. It looked to be abandoned.

  When Pam removed a set of keys from her own pocket and unlocked the gate, Russell knew differently.

  She shut the gate behind, re-locking it. Then came the front door and the entrance hall.

  On either side of the hall were doors, six in all, set widely apart but directly opposite each other. The hall itself was about twenty-five meters in length, indicating the building to be very deep. The designer obviously preferred to take up more in horizontal planning then vertical. Starting half way down the hall was a staircase that led up to a wall and disappeared to both the left and right on a mezzanine level.

  She led him down to one of the doors furthest from the entrance, opening it and indicating for him to enter.

  “What exactly is this place?”

  “Stacey and I prefer to think of it as our home away from home.”

  Sure enough, the room he stepped into was very much like a small apartment. There was a lounge area and a small kitchenette. Off to one side, there were two doors, marked with the male and female indicator signs for toilets. It was like a small staff room one would expect to see at high school.

  “Take a seat; I’ll get you some tea.”

  “Thanks,” He sat squarely in the middle of the large couch that took up most of the space in the lounge section of the room. It was very comfortable and seemed to swallow him in its cushions. He took a moment to let the place sink in. It must have been huge; “You lease this place?”

  He could hear her tinkering away in the kitchenette, “No, some, well, I guess you could call them friends, own it. They let us use it from time to time. It’s more of a refuge than anything else. A safe house.

  “From what?”

  “You’re not the first person we’ve come across with a few problems, just one of the more difficult.”

  Russell laughed, “You’re not the only person to call me that.”

  She came back with a tray, two teas, a milk jug and sugar bowl. Setting it on the table in front of the couch, Russell sat forward to pour his own milk and sugar before asking Pam about hers. Once they both had their drinks, Pam seemed to decide it was time to get down to business.

  “We heard a little about what happened today. Not much. Something about a mini tremor, a security guard being hospitalised with a few breaks and dislocations and then the talk of a jet pack I heard while I was inside trying to find you. I figured it had to have something to do with you.”

  Russell couldn’t help but feel responsible for the guard. Aiden was his name. Nice bloke, probably one of the few that actually took his job seriously. He had only seen a little of Aiden’s heroics, when he caught glimpses over his shoulder. He made a mental note to go visit him in hospital.

  “As you may have guessed, they found me. They took me up to the CP2. I have no idea why, but…”

  Russell proceeded to explain everything that had happened, getting a little too excited about his new found ability to fly but keeping it simple more or less. But he focussed mainly on the idea they had his wallet and therefore ties to pretty much everything in his life from his savings, to his address, to his DVD rental membership.

  “First things first. You won’t be going back to your place anytime shortly. You can stay here for the time being, relax, and get some rest. Then I’ll call Stacey and we can do a little research into whoever it was that is responsible for all of this. And then we will see if there is anything we can do, either in getting your wallet back or in stopping these goons once and for all.”

  She was being very optimistic about it all, but Russell was starting to feel the drag of his exertions and his normal negative thought flow coming back.

  “I can’t just stay holed up forever.”

  “You don’t need to be. As I said, we’ll work out what we can do. Until then, you won’t be going to work without one of us there as back up. From now on, that is the only place they will be able to get to you. Unless, of course, you call in sick.”

  “I can’t afford to! Besides, I’m not going to screw my whole life up because of this. I haven’t done anything. They’re the bad guys; they should be the ones cowering in the shadows, not me.”

  She nodded, understanding, “I know. It was just a suggestion.”

  Then a thought struck him. Kristen. He’d asked her out. He couldn’t not follow through with it. How was he supposed to-?

  But it’d be too dangerous. He’d be risking her life. Or would he?

  If he called her at work. Arranged it over the phone, then met somewhere away from work, they wouldn’t find him. He could lay low, keep a low profile, but have the date all the same. Besides, he had powers enough to keep her safe long enough for her to get to safety. But he wouldn’t have a chaperone. He didn’t exactly like the idea of Stacey watching over his shoulder.

  He discussed the idea with Pam. She was clearly stifling her amusement at the idea. Russell knew he looked a little, if not a lot, desperate, but this had been a long time in the works. He couldn’t blow it all now.

  At first Pam disagreed, but seeing how adamant Russell was about the situation, she finally caved.

  “Just as long as you treat her with a little respect.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I was just being facetious. Now, I’ll show you where you can sleep and you can get some rest.”

  He followed her back into the hall where she took him up the stairs and up to the first floor. He noted that despite the external appearance of the place, it was reasonably well kept. Not a speck of dust on the banisters, no gathering of dirt in the corners of the steps. Even the walls were devoid of stains, marks, holes, tears or anything like that. It was a simple layout, a simple building, but whoever owned it treated it like it was a palace.

  Choosing to go right at the mezzanine and up to the first floor, Pam led him into a hallway. Looking back, he could see that a similar hallway was positioned on the other side of the stairs.

  This hallway had more doors dotted along the walls.

  Indicating the first two doors on either side of the hall, “Bathrooms. Male and female.”

  “And here is where you’ll be staying,” Pam took him to the third on the left and let him inside.

  It was a bedroom. Probably as large as his own, though the dimensions were different. It was a long narrow room. At the end was the bed; beside it was a small side
cabinet. There was a cupboard, a table with three chairs; for company, Russell presumed. There were a couple of paintings on the walls also. Probably old prints framed and put up to add a little life.

  In all, they weren’t bad living quarters.

  Still it felt awkward. Russell had never been a fan of sleepovers. And the idea that he would be alone in this big building was rather daunting. What if they had followed them? What if they knew where he was and were going to come and get him.

  Stop it, he thought. Paranoia was just going to make things worse.

  Pam said her good byes and left Russell to make himself comfortable.

  Among other things in the room was a small television in the corner beside the door. It sat on a small table. He turned it on for some ambient sound and proceeded to check the place out thoroughly.

  Opening the cupboard doors, he found it empty and dark.

  There was a rack for hanging and a shelf above that. A good hiding spot for his key ring, but too predictable.

  He closed the doors and moved to the bed. He bounced his backside on it several times to test how comfortably he might be sleeping, if he could manage to sleep in a strange room. Pretty springy, giving a fair bit of resistance and support. From there, he moved to a little window just above the bed. But it wasn’t a window. In actual fact, if there were a window there, it would look straight out onto a big brown wall. This window was lit by the dying sunlight, still giving an indication of the time, but it was redirected by a system of mirrors or something in a chimney like tunnel. As far as Russell could tell there was something actually magnifying the light, yet softening it so it was brighter, but more of a warm feeling than you’d get from an artificial light source. From the entrance of the room, it looked like a perfectly normal window.

  And then he moved back to the table and chairs. Metal chairs with cushioned backrest and seat and a nice wooden table that could be a makeshift desk if necessary for study or even conferencing. Either side was expandable, adding to its length.

  All in all, decent quarters. But not something he’d call home.

  Then something on the television caught his attention.

  “…Supernatural activity. Witnesses all described the same localised earthquake sensation and some even claimed some form of invisible barrier pushing them to safety.”

  The image on the screen, which showed the bridge outside Greyson’s cut to a series of Vox Pops. One woman was wide eyed and breathless- “It was like a gigantic invisible pillow. It seemed to lift us up and lead us to safer ground. It was incredible. Like God was looking out for us.”

  Russell almost choked on his laughter. ‘God?’ Why did everything have to be religious? This was more scientific than religious, though he supposed someone could read a little destiny into everything that had happened. Like this having meant to be. He was perhaps prophesised by some man speaking in tongues over in Afghanistan. And he was meant to save the world.

  “Yeah right,” he chuckled to himself.

  The news report continued for a couple of seconds more, asking for further information or for the person responsible to come forward.

  He was about to go lie on the bed when the anchorwoman began reading the second story.

  “This recent spate of Super-natural or Super-human activity has attracted the attention of the government. Members of Parliament have proposed legislation for research into the cause of these occurrences and tighter laws pertaining to those responsible.”

  “This should be good,” instead of lying down, he sat on the end and watched.

  “Following the explosion at Saint Paul’s Cathedral on Murray Street and the virtual demolition of the Wellington Street Over-pass, local Government officials have opted to take a harder stand against the cause of these inexplicable events. Labour Senator Johanna Cartwright says she believes the perpetrators should be brought to justice.”

  A female appeared on screen, sitting snugly in front of a window, a lovely nature scene behind her, yet she was looking oh so arrogant, but still managed to be so concerned. Typical Bureaucrat. Her voice was sickly sweet, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “We can not,” she actually used both words, “just sit by and allow these acts of terrorism go on unpunished. Someone must be made accountable.”

  Cut to the reporter, “But what of this Hand of God theory? Can you be sure someone is responsible?”

  “According to information gathered by Police and passed on to me, there are already a number of leads in these cases. Witnesses on both occasions have come forward to give information,” She looked to the screen, addressing the viewers directly, “And we ask anyone out there who knows anything to please come forward.”

  “What would happen if you caught those people responsible?”

  “They will be put through the appropriate motions.”

  “You mean a court proceeding to see if they are guilty or not?”

  The senator nodded, “That’s right. And if it’s found that there are people out there with abnormalities such as these, we will need to look at further developing methods to control them.”

  Control? Clip their wings? Or actually lock them up and throw away the key. Even Russell wasn’t sure that would work with most of the people he’d encountered. They’d certainly have one heck of a time keeping that Dufus fellow chained up.

  'But what about me,' Russell thought. And Pam and Stacey? The good guys? The ones who have done nothing wrong? Would they be punished too, for the misguidance, or down right stupidity of a couple of thugs?

  Nazism or not, this whole situation was starting to read like one of those X-men comics. Hopefully this woman was alone in her stance, or she was full of hot air.

  Whatever the answer, Russell didn’t want to hear any more. He turned off the television and the lights. Lying on the bed, it took only moments to drift off, his muscles finally relieved of their burden.

  * * *

  He awoke late the next morning. Checking his watch, it was already eleven thirty four and he still didn’t want to move. Some of the ache that had gathered in his muscles had died somewhat, but it was as if they had become harder to move. Even the simplest of movements was a real chore.

  Ten minutes later he finally managed to stir. He rubbed his eyes, yawned and stretched, hoping to ease some of the lethargy he felt in his very bones.

  No such luck.

  So, heavily, he wandered down the stairs to the kitchenette to prepare himself some tea. Pam had already washed up last night’s tiny mess and the cups were sitting beside the sink. He just grabbed one, snapped the electric kettle on and leant back against the counter. Looking around with dreary eyes, he spotted the phone.

  Phone.

  Kristen.

  It was as if the sleep vanished from him altogether, though his movement was still somewhat hampered. He hurried as best he could over to the phone, picking it up and dialling work.

  Hopefully she was working. Hopefully she’d be free. Hopefully-

  “Hello, this is Margaret, how can I help you?”

  “Hi, could you put me through to computers, please?”

  “Certainly. Just one moment.”

  Her voice was replaced by music for a brief instant before she spoke again.

  “That line is busy, would you mind holding the line?”

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  Good. Meant he could keep it short. They wouldn’t have to talk much. In actual fact, Russell loathed phones. He didn’t mind customers on the other end. It was people he knew he hated talking to. It was almost impersonal. Or something like that. He just found it hard to communicate coherently over the phone.

  “Greyson’s Computers, Erin speaking.”

  “Hi, could I speak to Kristen, please?”

  “Sure, just one moment.”

  The phone was clunked onto the bench and Russell heard Erin speaking to Kristen. There was another short moment before the phone was juggled around and Kristen spoke.

&
nbsp; “Kristen here, how may I help you?”

  His knees nearly went weak. It was so childish, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. His heart had been thumping like a manic drummer was playing for his life in some drumming competition the whole time he’d been on hold. He hoped she was interested. She had to be. She had said ‘okay’.

  “Hi Kristen. It’s Russell.”

  Her voice changed. No longer as proper as when she speaks to customers, “Oh, Hi. How are you?”

  “Great. And you?”

  “Oh, you know, slacking off here while everyone works hard.”

  They both laughed. It was an on going joke they had. Russell had started off talking to her by calling her a slacker. In fact she was very hard working, but it was something amusing to say. She seemed to think it was funny anyway and it had just gone on from there.

  “I was just wondering if you were doing anything tonight. I know it is late notice but…?”

  He let it drift off. Hoping that would be sufficient. He’d said it so fast he wasn’t sure if she’d understood or not.

  There was only a slight pause before she answered. Was that good or bad?

  “No that’s fine. No. I’m not doing anything.”

  “Well, how about we go see a movie?”

  He thought he could hear the smile in her voice, “Sure.”

  “Great!”

  He organised to meet her outside one of the large chain cinemas in the city at six o’clock. Giving her time to get there comfortably after work. When he hung up, he almost whooped with joy, before he realised the kettle was doing it for him. He watched as the switch clicked over and the boiling died down before getting himself a tea. Now he had to find something to wear.

 

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Stacey returned from his apartment with some bad news. They’d already been there. They hadn’t trashed the joint, as Russell had feared, but they had left a calling card. It was one of his video membership cards attached to a ‘with compliments’ slip. It was probably easy to trace where it came from, but why bother. Russell already knew where to look.

  Thankfully Stacey had good taste. He’d grabbed a few handfuls of clothing and most of it was suitable to wear out. Russell didn’t have much in the way of clothing to begin with, but he liked to think some of it matched.