Cartoon Heroes: Book One of the Dark Skies Series

by Anthony Harwood

  He was going to ask who she had been speaking to. She knew it. Russell was right. She didn’t know what, whether it was a bomb or what, but he had something planned. Something bad and he couldn’t tell her. He was lying to her.

  “How could you?” She stood up, moving away from him.

  He started to rise, “Kristen. Nothing is going to happen. Who have you been talking to? That Russell kid?”

  “How could you?!” She screamed at him.

  “Don’t you raise your voice at me!”

  “I asked you a question! How could you?”

  “You don’t understand. You couldn’t understand!”

  She lowered her voice, “Try me!”

  “Honey, we stand a chance at being on top. I can’t-”

  “On top? We are on top? We were on top of the world until this.”

  “You weren’t supposed to know.”

  “What? Wasn’t supposed to know what? That you were planning to kill people? That you already had people kidnapped, beaten?”

  “They’re all lies,” He reached out to her with his hand and with his voice. He was pleading for her to come back to him. But how could she? Not now. This wasn’t the man she knew. This wasn’t her father? How could he be?

  Her father was a family man, a loving, caring, gentle man.

  When she was younger she remembered looking up to him as if he was God himself, leaning down to protect her. Now she could only see him as the demon he really was.

  “How could you!” She screamed; an accusation more than a question. She reached for the deadbolt, unlocked it and disappeared out into the night.

  “Kristen! I-”

  There was nothing more he could say.

 

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The next morning came with a beautiful sky. No dark clouds as an omen to what was to come. The sun was bright, the clouds white and fluffy. Russell had thought about the term, every cloud has a silver lining. From all his experience of late, he was starting to believe it. What with his new found abilities giving him the ability to see air currents as silver wisps, he just wished the figurative meaning was true as well.

  But it was more or less behind him now. He really did have more important things to worry about.

  As he walked into the room, he found himself walking into the tail end of a conversation between his housemates.

  "Ha ha. Very funny," Pam saw him and quickly changed the subject, "We were just trying to see if we could spot anything."

  Russell spotted an image of some technical looking junk, "How about that?"

  "The lighting board? As far as I could tell, it was clean. It's possible all the different components housed different parts of the bomb. But it's very unlikely. All work the desks have to do to begin with, it would probably blow before the end of the first tech rehearsal, which they had last night. And there was nothing in the news this morning about it."

  "So, still no idea?"

  "Not a thing."

  Russell fell back into an arm chair, “Well, I’d say we’re royally screwed, not to mention a few thousand people as well.”

  “It’s not over yet, Russell.”

  “Yet being the operative word there, Pam.”

  She ignored him, “Our best bet would be turning up. The least we could do is try and contain the blast when it happens and protect as many people as we can. Are we at least up for that?”

  The two men nodded, determined not to fail at this.

  “Well then, boys. Our sponsors and I have a little surprise for you then.”

  Russell leaned over to Stacey, “Who are these mysterious sponsors of ours?”

  He shrugged, “Search me. She’s the only one who has claimed to know them. I’m just hoping they’re pretty reliable.”

  “Well they’ve done wonders for this place.”

  “You boys coming?”

  Pam was at the door, waiting for them to follow.

  “Where are we going?”

  She raised a finger to her lips, “Sshh. It’s a secret.”

  “Oh, don’t be coy, woman.”

  “Stacey, humour me. We could all do with a little of that before we get into the grit this afternoon.”

  They did so without another word of complaint.

  She led them both back toward the main entrance. Russell hadn’t bothered checking the other rooms as yet, so he had no idea where he was going when Pam stopped at one of the doors on the right. She took hold of the handle and addressed her two companions.

  “What you are about to see, you must promise not to laugh at,” she was nearly laughing herself, which got the other two quite discombobulated. What exactly was she up to?

  “What you are about to receive, you must promise to utilise to its full potential.”

  She paused once more.

  “What you are about to do, you must tackle head on and do us proud.”

  “Come on, Pam, cut the crap and let us in already.”

  She laughed out loud now, “Fine. Gentlemen, I now introduce to you… Your new costumes!”

  With that she flung the door inward to reveal a mid sized room, its walls a stark white. It was completely devoid of furnishings. But on the very far wall, three hooks protruded from the wall. And from those, three hangers. And on those, three not so garish, but very, very awkward looking heaps of material. They had no form, having been hung directly onto the hangers instead of display mannequins.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Stacey beat Russell to it, “Costumes?”

  She adopted a hero stance, hands on hips, legs wide apart, “We need to protect our identities,” this was a new side to Pam Russell hadn’t seen. He had heard tid bits from Stacey on her exploits with the chairman, but Russell thought he was joking.

  “But won’t protecting our identities by masking our faces actually create a little more tension. You know, masked vigilantes?”

  “Oh come on, Russell. Just for today at least. Try it out. Who knows, looking at it from your perspective, we may never have another chance to wear them,” she joked.

  “Hey, I’m not always that negative!”

  “I know, just toying with ya. The people in charge want to give them a test run, get public opinion polls or something. Now, grab your gear and get ready. We’ve only got a couple of hours before lift off.”

  It wasn’t hard to see whose costume was whose.

  Stacey’s was on the right hook. A mixture of flame red and orange. There were hints of other colours there, but it appeared it was all done in ‘flame’ motif.

  Pam’s was in the middle. Crimson red with a lot of dark patches. She was bound to look hot in that one. Mind you, Russell thought, she looked good in anything.

  The last costume, Russell’s, was more sombre. Grey was a major colour, a deep almost wolfish grey, he supposed to represent storm clouds. The rest was made of black.

  He slowly removed the hanger from the wall. Stacey followed suit.

  “Come on guys, chop-chop. They should be the right size.”

  “But I was never measured,” Russell argued.

  “Just try them on. You’ll see.”

  “But I’ll look ridiculous.”

  “Russell, if you don’t go and try it on now, you’ll be hard pressed to convince me you aren’t always a negative little git.”

  He exchanged glances with Stacey who looked as enthusiastic as he did. The Cockney shrugged and disappeared out the door.

  * * *

  To be honest, Russell’s most embarrassing moment was the support. ‘You just can’t wear tights without a support’, Pam had said. It sent shivers down his spine just to think she’d probably been the one to look after that little detail. Or anyone would have to look after it at all.

  He put it on and found it also to be the most uncomfortable item he had ever worn, that was on top of the costume itself.

  It's only just this once, he was thinking to himself. The way the damn thing was riding up, as it was supposed to, he
could be sure to stay focused the whole blooming time.

  When he put on the rest of the costume, after the initial difficulty of telling which was front and back, he was far more concerned about how his physique would look.

  He wasn’t exactly Arnold Schwarzenegger, was he? He was lucky to have pectorals at all, let alone biceps.

  Thankfully, however, whoever designed the thing had taken that into account. There was some sort of padding built into the costume itself. He wasn’t sure if it was some sort of armour or what, but when he looked in the mirror, he had a very decent, if fake, build. He smiled, “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  There was a knock on the door, “You ready yet?”

  “Give us a moment.”

  He had a cape. It was big, majority grey with a black patterning on the back. It could attach to the costume by the wrists and the collar and lower back. It looked pretty cool in theory, but how would it stand up in practice? Was it more aerodynamically in tune? Would it help him lift off better? Or would it just get in the way?

  The last item he had to put on, other than adjusting the boots that made up the bottom end of his costume, was the mask. It was negligible when it came to protecting his identity as Pam had claimed.

  It barely covered his eyebrows. But it sat snugly, adjusting easily to the contours of his face.

  It was complete. Checking the mirror on the backside of the cupboard door, he made sure everything was on straight and sitting right.

  The design on the body was pretty decent, as well. Again, mainly black, with black swirls down either leg. These extended from his upper thigh where the costume became completely black until it reached his waist line where, again it broke into cloud-like whiffs that ran up either side toward his arm pits. Matching patterns ran down from his collar to just above his wrist.

  In all it was a pretty decent costume and it fit rather well, though he was still concerned as to where they got the measurements from.

  As he stepped into the hall, he felt slightly self-conscious. At least, until Stacey stepped out of another room a moment later. He, too, looked pretty good. The flame motif actually made him look taller than he actually was. There was no cape on his, simply the base costume, but it actually stretched up his neck and the side of his face, stopping short of covering his hair. Russell wasn’t sure how it stayed up like that, but it looked good. Stacey obviously had the same sort of padding in the costume because he looked like he was capable of lifting a truck.

  “This padding is pretty cool, huh? Makes you look like Superman or something.”

  Stacey regarded him curiously, “What padding?”

  Russell shut his mouth, more than a little embarrassed.

  Pam was already dressed. She arrived from the stairwell. And to say she looked good in her suit was an understatement in Russell’s point of view.

  “How are we supposed to do anything with you looking like that?”

  “Feelings mutual, Stacey.”

  He began to blush.

  “Okay. We can’t exactly go in like this,” Pam continued, regardless, “We’ll wear civvies over the top. If and when there’s trouble, we may need to spruce ourselves up. But it is entirely up to you.”

  “Sounds cool to me.”

  “Ditto,” Russell said.

  He had already found the cape detaches at the wrist and can be wrapped around his body so it didn’t look weird under his clothes. So he did as Pam suggested - wore his ordinary gear over the top, dressing up slightly for the occasion.

 

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  They arrived at the Centre at Eleven o’clock. Television and radio journalists were already making their way in. But from the looks of it, through the glass that made up the foyer’s external wall, the crowd was still kept outside and was gradually increasing in number. Soon their numbers would be spilling into the street.

  “We don’t have time to wait,” Pam stated the obvious, “We’ll flash our cards and get inside.”

  “What about me?”

  “You stay out here. Keep an eye out. If anything suspicious happens-”

  “Like someone choking on a hot dog or passing out from heat exhaustion?”

  “Like the bomb going off out here instead. Just be at the ready.”

  He nodded, keeping his eye on the street, hoping to make out a familiar white Mazda van. No sign as yet. But there was a massive car park a few streets away for it to be stored.

  Then a thought struck him, “Pam! Stacey! Wait.”

  They hurried back to him, “What?”

  “The car park. What if they’re attacking the car park again?”

  She considered it for a moment. Then shook her head, “Too obvious for one. And no guarantees that someone will get caught. The weather could take it up and away from the crowd.”

  “Oh, come on. There will be thousands of people.”

  “Well, keep your ear out. We’re spread too thin to be able to deal with that many options. It could be the train station for all we know. Hundreds of people will be taking public transport today. Just keep an eye and ear out."

  He nodded, surveying the crowd as the two disappeared inside.

  Great. All alone again. Then again, maybe this was better. If he could spot Dufus or Pipsqueak around, maybe he could distract the bad guys from setting the bomb off. Unless, of course, it’s set on timer.

  He looked at his watch. Brilliant. Ages to wait.

  * * *

  Inside, it was dark still. Some television cameras had been set up by the corners of the stage. Some men and women were carrying the portables, attached to hip braces to prevent drastic shaking and unsteadiness.

  “There are so many places it could be,” Stacey whispered to Pam.

  There were too many people around to speak too loudly. They’d draw attention to themselves and any mention of a bomb would probably have them arrested.

  “We just have to keep looking.”

  “I’ll try back stage again. Maybe I’ll be able to get around better with all the cast out there.”

  “Let’s hope so. I’ll stick out here. Maybe I’ll spot someone or something.”

  They split up. They would have been wasting their time sticking together. Besides if the bomb went off underneath their feet, the best thing would be to have the only other help as far away as possible.

  She watched as Stacey vanished out through one of the stage doors. It was now up to her to check the front. Sticking close to the journalists who were already present, she tried to listen out for any suspicious talk. All she heard, however, was the usual babble; some annoyed insults and received a few dirty looks.

  These guys were no help.

  Opting instead to do a once round the stage, hoping to spot something she, once again, failed to spot anything out of the ordinary. The only place left for her to go was into the seating.

  Slowly, but casually, trying not to draw too much attention to herself, she moved up toward the make shift lighting and sound set up. There were two men working there already, going through preliminary tests, warm ups on the equipment and making thorough checks as to whether the boards were working correctly.

  "Excuse me," she started.

  "Yes," neither man looked up.

  "I was just wondering. Last night, did you have any technical problems? Was everything running smoothly," she laid on a bit of the 'ditsy' air, hoping to fool them. What she had asked obviously caught their attention. They both looked up.

  The man checking the lighting board answered, "Not particularly, why?"

  "Just doing a comparison on the new Colonial Stadium in Melbourne. They had a few glitches, I believe for the Barbra Streisand concert a while back. Just wanted to make sure that we, a proud Western Australian establishment, are running perfectly."

  The guys smiled. No evil here, she could tell, "You can count on us, miss, to keep things running right. We’ll show them why we’re the best city."

  She smiled sweetly, "Thank you gentlemen.
Much appreciated. Now if you'll excuse me, I want to check the state of your cleaning services."

  They nodded in acknowledgement, sort of like a curt little bow and she moved off, up the stairs into the darkened auditorium.

  Absolutely nothing. She could feel the frustration setting in. This was pathetic. How hard would it be to hide a bomb?

  Stupid question, she knew.

  Looking back and forth down either side of the isle, she watched for anything suspicious. Anything at all. And came up with zip.

  With all the seating and all the aisles in this place, it would take hours to check them all.

  She concentrated, pushing out lightly with her telekinesis, letting it fan out along the seats and around them, like covering then all with a tight fitting sheet.

  It was hard work and took a lot of concentration, but she continued to push, feeling for anything out of the ordinary. Still coming up with zip.

  "Oh, this is getting ridiculous."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am?"

  She spun around and found herself looking into a very broad chest.

  "I'm trying to find my seat, she covered."

  The massive behemoth looked down at her, quizzed, "It's first in best dressed, ma'am."

  "As you can see by looking at me, sir, I know that," She played the prissy card this time.

  He looked a little embarrassed and she hoped she didn't look too intimidated. A man this size should not be physically possible. He was gigantic.

  "I meant, ma'am, that you can find a seat anywhere and take it."

  She smiled, as if actually understanding what he meant, "Oh, so if I wanted to sit in that box over there, you'd let me?"

  The man looked where she was pointing, finding it hard to turn around.

  "Uh. No ma'am. That's for the Premier and his family."

  "But you just said-"

  "I know, Ma'am. I am awfully sorry. I was mistaken."

  "What are you doing, you idiot?"

  A smaller man, at least a quarter of the size of the first appeared. He spotted Pam and his eyes nearly leapt out of his head.

  "Oh. I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am. I didn't realise he was working. He has a tendency of wandering off."

  "Oh, no. He was being most helpful. In fact, he has helped me chose my seat. Thank you very much gentlemen."

  With that, she made her exit.

  These two weren't kosher. In fact, she wouldn't mind betting they were the two both Russell and Stacey had encountered before. The size of the first man was unnatural and he did fit their description of him.