Cartoon Heroes: Book One of the Dark Skies Series

by Anthony Harwood

  Stacey leaned forward and pulled out a set of floor plans, “I got these from a friend of mine in league with the city council. They're only a drafted copy, but more than sufficient,” He handed the schematics to Russell. He automatically tried to see where he had been held. Sure enough, he could see the corridor down which he had escaped, the window having been marked in by someone as having been broken. From there, he could easily trace his movements. The floor plan itself was so convoluted and twisted it was like a maze.

  On a second page was a more symmetrical and organised layout, more in tune with what one would expect to find in an office building. There were a series of corridors with adjoining offices, one of which, situated in the North East corner was marked as Peerson’s.

  “What about security?”

  Pam spoke up, “Most security in a building like that is located at the exits and the extremities. The window, having been broken but being located so high up the building probably hasn’t been seen as a security risk.”

  Russell shook his head, “Not by the ordinary people. But they know I can fly. They saw me do it. They’re bound to predict that’s the way I’ll go again.”

  “Not necessarily,” Stacey countered, “It could be they are expecting you not to take the most obvious way in.”

  “Either way, I’m expected. The video card they left was proof of that. And whether we enter from the window or some other entrance, they’ll still be waiting for us.”

  “No. They’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Well they know about Stacey as well.”

  “Yes, but not me. We still have a few little surprises for them. It’s now just a case of working out the details.”

  “I don’t see why we don’t just burst in guns firing and do as much damage as we can.”

  “As a journalist, Stacey,” Pam all but chided him, “I’d expect you to be watching the news.”

  “You mean that politician? She has her wires crossed.”

  “Yes, but if we were to take such an offensive, cause such destruction, Peerson would blame it straight back on us and despite our little paper, he’s most likely to have more pull in this city than us.”

  She had a point, and Stacey knew it. He drew back and listened to her idea.

  “In light of the fact they’ll most likely have that window covered, I say we take them from the inside out. Use the main entry. They won’t be expecting three of us, we can use our media cards as our way in, claiming research or interviews or some such story. We could even clarify it with Harry. Thus get easy access to the fortieth floor that way. I wouldn’t think they’ll be expecting that.”

  “Or,” Russell added, “We could still go from the outside, just not through that window.”

  This intrigued them both, “How so?”

  “Who’s going to notice another broken window? Or, who even said anything about another broken window. Your Telekinesis could ‘unstick’ the glass, we could make a quiet entry, using our powers only in defence, if we get discovered, nip in, look round, pop out and there we go. Finished; least amount of fuss.”

  There was silence for a bit. Stacey looked at Pam, who returned his gaze.

  And they both nodded.

  “Not bad,” Stacey said.

  “It’s a pretty decent plan.”

  “Well, how about it?”

  “Okay, sure. We could try it.”

  “We can do it,” Russell corrected, “So. When do we go?”

  * * *

  It was three o’clock in the morning. Russell was hardly in any peak physical condition and with all the latest strain; a late night wasn’t the most idyllic situation. They had all dressed appropriately in black. That way they’d be able to blend better inside, not to mention against the night sky as they made their entrance.

  They were standing one block away. Distance enough to avoid any external patrols, if, of course, there were any. Russell was conjuring images of television shows where the bad guy had a huge compound with hundreds of armed bodyguards. Like Beverley Hills Cop. Kill one and hundreds more take his place. Not that he wanted to kill anyone. Nor that he’d have that many people in his employ for that specific job description, nor would the building actually allow him that sort of man power.

  Basically, Russell was letting his imagination get too carried away.

  He stifled a yawn as Stacey made last checks on equipment. They didn’t have much. Torches, a small tool kit, just in case, gloves to prevent leaving fingerprints.

  He gave his okay and Russell started to imagine what they must look like from afar. Three black clad figures huddled in the street like some sort of saboteurs or conspirators. If a police car was to go past, they’d be picked up for sure.

  Pam looked over at Russell, “Are you ready for this?”

  He nodded, “I think so.” He was slightly anxious about using his powers to fly again. Sure it had been a thrill the first time. But was it altogether safe?

  No. He couldn’t afford any doubts. The winds hadn’t failed him yet. They hadn’t given him any reason not to trust them.

  But what if his powers were only temporary?

  What if the effects of the bomb were about to wear off?

  Don’t think about it!

  Pam lifted into the air. She did it so casually, with such ease it was amazing to watch. Like a slow motion backward dive. She held her arms by her side, almost like a streamlined set of wings, more for effect than anything else, Russell figured. But hey, it was a beautiful effect at that.

  Stacey went next, getting caught up in Pam’s TK field. He was a little more unsteady about it, not being used to the experience and all. But he didn’t make a sound. Merely followed her lead.

  Then it was Russell’s turn.

  He could feel the night breeze already, now coaxing him to follow suit. He’d have to convince the winds to do what he wanted, or that was the way he saw it as being done. It was almost as if they were alive, responding to him in some sort of empathic connection. It would explain to some degree the way he felt a final completion to himself every time he really let loose with his abilities. Maybe that was the way it all worked.

  But tonight, the currents were reading him. They kept pushing at him, sliding over his body. It wasn’t long before he felt them lift him from the ground, replacing the solid earth with what felt like a solid landing of their own. The silver strands once more forming a kind of disco suit for him as it carried him higher and higher with such ease.

  And he let it take him. Why argue with such a wonderful power. He’d always been fascinated by the elements. Earth, Fire, Air, Water. Earth was pretty standard, boring. Fire was exciting, the way it danced and moved, some people claiming it was actually alive. Maybe that was true. Maybe they all were. For, from Earth came life, such as trees. The same from Water. And the way the other two behaved at times, you could imagine them both being physical beings with minds of their own.

  Was that the way Stacey saw his own power. His control of fire was intense, the way he could conjure a fireball as he had on Sunday. Did he sense the same connection as Russell? He was going to have to ask him later.

  Most of the lights in the building were off. Everyone having gone home for the night. It didn’t take long before the trio reached the missing windowpane. It was covered in semi-transparent plastic, no doubt hiding someone or something behind it, in wait of their next move.

  But it didn’t come in the way those inside may have expected.

  They continued to rise and moved around the building, circling it until they reached the North East corner.

  Russell crossed his fingers, hoping Peerson wouldn’t be in. The lights were out, but that wasn’t to say there wasn’t anyone inside.

  Carefully, they approached the glass, its surface revealing only a reflection of what was outside. If the lights were on, they’d be able to see, but that wasn’t how this worked.

  Once they arrived, Russell heard a small squeak coming from behind the glass and nea
rly panicked before he realised it was Pam at work.

  There were four large metal screws, or clamps, one in each corner. Slowly, one by one, she was unscrewing them. They turned as Russell watched, barely able to see with what remained of Perth’s late night-lights. Once she had them out, Stacey stored them away in a small backpack. All that remained was a sealant around the edge. That was where Stacey came in.

  Pam moved him up to the window and he took a quick look at the substance. He then lifted his hand, pointed a finger and shot forth a tiny red-hot stream of fire. The sealant began to bubble and ooze, melting and some of it actually evaporating under the intense heat. It took him less than two minutes to do the whole way around the pane. When he had finished, Pam took control once more. With a barely audible whoosh as the air pressure inside changed, adjusting to that outside, she lifted the pane free. The strain of maintaining both her own and Stacey’s height and now that of the heavy glass plate was beginning to show, but she soldiered on, turning the glass around so it was now on its side. She then moved it, base first, into the office.

  Leaning it against the other windows, the three finally made their entrance.

  No one was home. Russell sighed with relief.

  It was a pretty big office, though. Hopefully he’d be stupid enough to leave the wallet in his desk draw.

  But that wasn’t the plan just yet. First, Stacey ran to the door and put his ear against it. He waited a few seconds before looking back at his companions and shaking his head. Then, he opened the door, slightly, peering out the gap before exiting into the secretary’s office outside.

  He was their first line of defence. Keeping his ear out for trouble, not to mention fending off the bad guys with his powers.

  Inside, the other two got to work.

  They both avoided the desk to begin with. Too obvious. Pam started running her hands over the other two walls, hoping to make out any secret compartments or hidden safes. Russell started checking the few cupboards. They were filled with pieces of art. Some things he’d never seen before. Others, he had seen in books when he was in high school doing sculpture. There were a few paintings on the wall as well, but he could only see the outlines.

  Every so often he’d pause, wondering if someone was coming. Did he hear something? Was it just Pam checking or Stacey pacing? Had he been seen? Or mugged? Maybe they had taken him by surprise…

  He didn’t even bother scolding himself for being so pessimistic.

  As far as he could tell, the draws to the cupboards were empty. The shelves only occupied by the art.

  Then there was a small filing cabinet on one wall. Obviously most of his files were stored elsewhere, probably for his secretary to find. What Russell found were files labelled with some of the larger, well known companies in the city. He didn’t know what they were all for and he didn’t care. All he wanted was his wallet. He flicked through each one, hoping to find any references such as a loose card that had been dropped or hidden individually or the wallet itself. No such luck. This left only the desk.

  Pam had finished her own search and met him by the chair. There were drawers on either side and that was where they started.

  The first draw proved exciting, but fruitless. Like in all the movies, he kept a small gun in his upper right hand draw. Easy access for easy defence. Russell avoided touching it, wondering how many times, if any it had been used. Underneath were more files, probably current or recently finished.

  “Russell. Look at this.”

  He stopped his search and looked up. Pam was holding one such file in her hand. Labelled ‘D-day’.

  “D-day? Deposit Day? Deposition?” He knew he was avoiding the obvious.

  Pam pushed Trent's keyboard out of the way and opened the file on the desk.

  Inside were photos, diagrams, and letters.

  Unable to make any details out, Russell reached over to a small desk lamp and switched it on.

  It lit up most of the desk surface including a small, framed photograph just below it, which caught Russell’s eye. And his heart leapt to his throat for the nth time this week.

  He finally knew why Peerson was familiar. It was so obvious. He hadn’t thought about it before. If only he had put one and one together he wouldn’t have found himself contemplating four.

  It was a family portrait. All three individuals were tall, almost the same height, though one was sitting. The daughter. Kristen. Kristen Peerson. The daughter of the megalomaniac who had tried to kill him.

  “Bugger me blue and paint me green.”

  Pam looked up, her confusion more than evident, “I beg your pardon?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Don’t you mean him?”

  He shook his head, “No. Her. Kristen. The girl I went out with tonight. I work with her. She’s his bloody daughter.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “Look,” He grabbed the photo and practically shoved it in her face.

  She pushed it away, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen her.”

  He dropped it onto the desk, “Bloody hell.”

  “We don’t have time to worry about that just now. This looks bad.”

  Trying to push the whole idea of dating this bastard’s daughter aside, Russell looked at what she was talking about; the file.

  Some of the photos were recognisable. The Entertainment Centre’s stage. Except it was being decorated. Several workmen and women were seen hanging set items, rigging lights and sound or just standing around. From all indications, these were images of the Aus. Day concert. There were Australian flags, gum trees, life-size kangaroos, though only stuffed toys. All atypical items people for some weird reason associated with Australia, though most people never encountered any of those things in their lives, including the Australian flag.

  “There’s another bomb.”

  “At the concert. That would explain why Peerson wants Kristen at Rottnest,” He couldn’t help it. She was still slipping into his head.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Where is it?”

  Pam shuffled through the pages, trying to find any useful information, “It doesn’t say.”

  “Guys. Someone’s coming.”

  Stacey had stuck his head back through the door.

  “How long?”

  “They’re at the lift. Two minutes max.”

  “Not enough time!”

  Pam shoved the papers back into the file, “Look for your wallet. I’ll keep looking around.”

  Russell started to check the other drawers, “Maybe on the computer.”

  “It’d take two minutes to load up. We don’t have enough time,” She continued to look over the documents, the photos, hoping to get any information.

  “Got it!” He found his wallet in the bottom right hand draw, amongst some office items such as boxes of staples, elastic bands and paper clips. He quickly rummaged through it, checking it was all there. Licence, memberships, twenty dollars, bankcard and eighty cents in change. All there, excepting the one they had left at his home. Now he could pay Stacey back the fifty he borrowed for the date.

  “Almost here.”

  “Go,” Pam called, “I’ll hold him off.”

  She pushed the file back into the drawer as Russell headed toward the window. Stacey came into the room and followed suit.

  “Go. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

  Trusting her completely, which Russell admired, Stacey stepped out into mid air and hung there, waiting.

  Russell followed suit, drawing the silver wisps around him once more.

  “Come on Pam.”

  The window came first. Sliding along the air like it was on rollers. Then Pam.

  She literally ran out into the air, allowing herself and Stacey to drop below sight of the office. Russell once more copied as she adjusted the angle of the pane and slid it back against its housing.

  Stacey then removed the bolts from the pack and she took them with her mind.

  Russell couldn’t
help wondering what it would be like to have her powers. It was all so fascinating, how everyone was so different. Did they all act the same way, the powers? Did she actually feel the objects she was holding with her mind? Hers was, of course, a psychic ability. How far did that power stretch? Did it give her access to other levels of human consciousness, not quite telepathic, but Astral. Like in Astral Projections. Could she do that?

  He was going to have to sit down with these two one day and find out what the deal was. Ask them all the questions he could, find out all the details.

  These people, like him, were unique. Even more so than the average person, because Russell liked to think everybody was somewhat special. He wanted to know more about them.

  Pam had three of the bolts in when Russell realised he could still see inside the office.

  “The lamp! It’s still on.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Can you turn it off?”

  There was an instant flash of darkness from inside as the lamp switched off and the office lights went on.

  “Did they notice?”

  “Sshh.”

  Pam stopped her work on the window. There was nothing she could do while someone was inside. They were bound to hear.

  A shadow fell upon the window and all three moved back against the side of the building just below, hoping it would give them sufficient cover.

  It was slightly nerve wracking hanging hundreds of feet above the street with nothing supporting you but air, all the while hiding from someone standing only inches away.

  Russell couldn’t help himself. He craned his neck and tried to see who it was.

  Peerson was standing directly in front of the window Pam had painstakingly removed and replaced.

  His face was shadowed from the back lighting, but Russell could still make out the hard expression on it. He wasn’t happy about something. In fact, with the added bonus of shadowing, he looked down right pissed off, to be blunt.

  He stood there for only a short while longer before turning abruptly and disappearing from sight. The lights within went out and Russell was able to breathe again.

  Pam hurried with the last of the bolts before the three lowered to the street below, making sure they were unseen.

 

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “He sure wasn’t happy about something,” Russell was the first to speak.

  “How so?” Stacey asked.