by Lucas Flint
Turning my attention back to the door, I pressed against the exit bar as gently but firmly as I could. The back door slowly started to open, but I didn't dare increase pressure too quickly, because I didn't want to make loud noise that would attract the attention of the Injectors. I needed to open it just enough for me to slip through. Luckily, I wasn't a very fat person, so I didn't need to open it very much in order to exit.
"Hey, what are you doing?" someone behind me said in a voice that was shockingly loud.
I jumped and looked over my shoulder to see one of the students looking at me in confusion. It was Billy Haas, a kid who shared my English class but wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed. I hadn't even noticed him in the back of the bus, but he was at the very back of the line and seemed to have just noticed me himself. He stared at me with his large, dull eyes like we weren't currently being held hostage by a bunch of violent criminals.
"Billy, shhh," I said, holding a finger to my lips. "I'm going to get help."
"You're going to get help?" Billy repeated in a voice that was definitely loud enough to be heard from all over the bus. "Really? Can I come with you?"
"Hey, what's going on back there?" said the first Injector from the front of the bus. "Everyone needs to be lined up or else."
"Rodriguez, I think one of the brats is trying to escape through the back of the bus!" said another Injector.
I didn't even wait to see what they would do. I just shoved the back door open without hesitation and fell out of the bus, landing on the pavement on my hands and knees. But I quickly scrambled back to my feet and ran like hell toward the nearest house. I heard the Injectors shouting at me to get back, but I didn't even stop. I just grabbed the top of the fence lining the house and launched myself over the top at the same time I heard gunshots go off. I landed hard on the soft green grass, nearly knocking the wind out of my lungs, but again, forced myself to get to my feet and run toward a small building that look like a tool shed.
I yanked open the door and then slammed it shut behind me as soon as I entered the building. I groped in the dark for a few frantic seconds until I found a rake, which I stuck through the door's interior handle. It was a terrible lock, but hopefully it would keep the Injectors distracted long enough for the police to arrive.
Speaking of the police, I needed to call them. I put my hand into my pocket, intending to grab my phone, but my pocket was empty. I checked all of my jean pockets, but I didn't have my phone on me anywhere. What the hell? I thought I'd made sure to grab it before I left the house earlier. Did I accidentally drop it? Probably when I fell out of the bus or maybe it fell out of my pocket even earlier than that, when I left my seat to sneak away.
Either way, I was completely screwed. Without my phone, I couldn't call the police. And now I had trapped myself in a tiny shed, with no escape route save for the front door, which would probably soon be kicked in by the Injectors, who would then gun me down right where I stood. By the time they were done with me, I'd probably just look like meat paste.
Turning sixteen sucks.
Suddenly, I heard banging on the door, followed by the distinct voice of Rodriguez shouting, "Come out, brat! And don't try to be a hero. We know you're alone in there. We have you completely surrounded. If you don't come out in ten seconds, we'll start shooting and that shed doesn't look bulletproof."
I backed away from the door until I hit a lawn mower. I looked desperately around the shed for anywhere I could hide, but there was nowhere to hide in such a small space. If I surrendered, they'd definitely kill me, despite what they said. My only other option at this point was to pick up a shovel or an ax and try to use it as a weapon. If I was lucky, I could get them by surprise and maybe take out one of those guys before they realized what happened. At the very least, I might be able to poke out an eye, which was better than nothing, I guess.
But this was a terrible way to go. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to my parents. Then again, Thomas didn't get a chance to say goodbye, nor did Grandfather. I guess it was just a very depressing family tradition at this point.
Before I could grab a gardening tool I could use for my last stand, my eyes darted to the face of my watch. In all of the confusion, I had forgotten about the mysterious watch I got as a birthday present this morning. The face was backlit, allowing me to see that it was exactly 7:21 AM, with thirty seconds left before the next minute. Something about the watch was comforting, like I was looking at an old friend who I hadn't spoken to in a long time.
"Press the button, kid," said that voice in my head again, the one that sounded just like Grandfather. "It's your only chance to get out of this mess alive. Better make it count."
Like my hand was guided by something else, I pressed a button on the side of the watch and the face flipped up, revealing another button--this one bright red--set directly in the center of the watch itself. It was labeled simply: SUIT UP.
It probably wasn't smart to listen to the voices in my head, but at this point, I had no choice. If I was going to die, I might as well listen to that voice.
Without hesitation, I pressed the red button in the middle of the watch.
CHAPTER FOUR
As soon as I pressed the red button, bright blue energy immediately flowed out of the watch down my arm onto my body. It felt really strange, like being soaked with water, but I didn't get wet. The energy covered my entire body, except for my mouth and eyes. I looked down at my body, which was now covered from head to toe in this weird blue energy, and then the energy flashed so brightly that I had to close my eyes to avoid going blind.
But the flash soon faded away and I opened my eyes to get a better look at my clothing. I was shocked by what I saw.
My body was glowing. No, not my body, but the red and blue bodysuit which now covered my body. I was still wearing my normal clothes underneath, but I now had a strange spandex suit which covered my whole body like a second skin. And, while I wasn't the most muscular guy around, the spandex did show off my muscles quite well, with a stylized TW emblazoned on my chest. A quick glance over my shoulder showed that I had a red cape now, of all things, though I had no idea where it came from. It looked pretty cool, though.
"What the heck?" I said, looking at my new clothes in confusion. "Where did all of this stuff come from? It's tight."
"Hey!" Rodriguez shouted from the other side of the door. "Brat, what was that flash of light? You've got a one man light show going on in there or something?"
"Brat's probably calling the police on his phone," said another Injector. "Get him before he ruins everything!"
All of sudden, there was more banging and pulling at the door. This time, I could tell that all three of the Injectors were working together to open it. With their combined strength, they would probably succeed, and once they did, I would definitely be screwed, even with my new clothes that just magically appeared out of nowhere.
Once again, I looked around for an exit, but I saw none. Damn it. I never gave much thought to how I would die--I guess I just assumed I would die of old age or something. I didn't expect to get gunned down by a bunch of drug dealers while hiding in someone's garden shed like a little kid playing hide and seek. Even Thomas' death by melted skin was more dignified than that.
"You're tougher than you think, kid," said Grandfather's voice in my head again. "Much tougher. The Watch didn't just give you a new get up, you know."
Before I could ask the voice what it meant by that, strength poured through my body. It was like drinking a big cup of coffee in the morning. I became more alert, with a clearer mind, and felt like I could bench press a diesel truck fifty times if I had to. My sudden increase in strength almost scared me, but more than anything, it filled me with confidence. All of my previous fear vanished, replaced by the feeling that I could handle whatever these Injector guys would throw at me.
The only question was, could they handle me?
Suddenly, the front door was ripped off its hinges, allowing light from outsi
de to pour in. One of the Injectors appeared in the doorway, gun in hand, but as soon as he saw me, his eyes widened and he said, "Wait a minute. You're not the brat. Where did the brat go? And who the hell are you?"
I smiled. "I'm your dentist."
Without hesitation, I pulled my fist back and smashed it directly into the Injector's jaw. I expected the Injector to fall flat on his back and maybe also fall unconscious, where he would remain until the police came by to arrest him.
But he actually flew backwards, head over heels through the air until he crashed into and through the wooden fence surrounding the house.
"What the hell?" Rodriguez shouted. "Cristiano, what happened? Cristiano, can you hear us?"
I was just as stunned as the Injectors by what I just did. I looked at my fist in awe, wondering if any of this was real or if this was part of some weird dream and I was still back home in my bed.
"This is real all right, kid," said Grandfather's voice again. "But I wouldn't get too distracted. Those Injectors might be shocked now, but they'll get over their shock soon, and once they do, they'll want to avenge their friend. Don't waste the opportunities that fate gives you."
Grandfather or his voice or whatever it was, was right. I shook my head and leaped out of the shed, coming to a landing right between the remaining two Injectors, Rodriguez and the other one whose name I didn't know. They immediately turned their guns on me when I appeared, but rather than fire, they just stared at me with absolute bewilderment.
"Who the hell are you?" said Rodriguez. "You're not the brat."
"You're right," I said, rising to my feet. "I'm not a brat. I'm a hero, and I'm going to kick your asses."
Rodriguez scowled. "Pedro, kill him!"
Pedro--who must have been the other Injector--raised his gun, but I whirled around, kicking the gun out of his hand and sending it flying to the other side of the yard, where it landed safely out of reach. Then I followed up with a kick to the gut, which, like my earlier punch, sent Pedro flying. He crashed into the ground so hard that he actually made a shallow crater, where he lay in a heap, clearly unconscious from the impact.
Whirling around to face Rodriguez, I saw him raise his gun and fire. I jumped into the air, going high enough to avoid the bullet, and landed on top of the roof of the nearby house behind Rodriguez. My landing wasn't entirely smooth, however. I nearly lost my balance upon landing on the tiles, though I grabbed onto the chimney for support.
But then Rodriguez turned around and started firing at me. I fell behind the chimney, which was thick enough to catch the bullets, but Rodriguez still had me pinned down. I cursed myself for jumping like that, because it just left me stuck again and it was only a matter of time before Rodriguez got me.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," said Grandfather again. "See that loose tile? Pick it up and throw it at him. Trust me, it will be hilarious."
"Hilarious?" I said aloud, because I wasn't sure how to speak to Grandfather in my mind. I cringed at the sound of bullets striking the brick chimney. "I'll get shot."
"Not if you're fast," said Grandfather. "You don't even have to think about it. Just grab that tile and throw it as hard as you can at him. Don't worry about aim, either. It will work out on its own."
I looked at the loose tile before me, the one the voice told me to grab. I didn't understand what he meant about not worrying about aiming, but I decided that if the voice in my head had been right about pressing the button, then it was probably right about this, too. Even so, I made a mental note to ask Mom and Dad to send me to therapy, because I was pretty sure that hearing voices in your head was the first sign of insanity.
Snatching up the tile, I peered around the side of the chimney and saw that my situation had gotten worse. Rodriguez wasn't alone. Four other Injectors had entered the backyard, each one armed with what looked like a machine gun, and they were all setting up around various parts of the yard. I realized they were getting ready to strike me from multiple angles, which would definitely increase their chances of killing me.
"There's more of them," I said, whispering because I didn't want the Injectors to hear me. "How is this tile supposed to help me take out all of them?"
"Don't worry," said Grandfather. "Just throw it at the shed and let your powers do the rest."
I bit my lower lip, but again, decided to trust the voice. I aimed at the roof of the shed and hurled the tile with all of my might. As the tile left my hands, however, I thought I felt some of my energy pass into it, though I didn't quite understand what that meant. I just knew that the tile flew straight and true toward the roof of the shed, like a drone.
The tile struck the roof, but rather than harmlessly bounce off, it ricocheted. It hit the top branches of a nearby tree, bounced off the side of the house, and flew straight toward one of the Injectors, who had just enough time to glance in its general direction before the tile struck him in the forehead and knocked him flat off his feet.
But the tile wasn't done yet. It flew toward another Injector, who raised his machine gun to fire on it, but the tile flew over his gun's barrel and struck him directly in the nose. He collapsed onto the ground in an embarrassing heap, while the other two new Injectors turned to see what had happened to their friend, only for the tile to bounce between both of their faces and knock both out of them out cold.
That left Rodriguez, who had just enough time to look at his fallen comrades before the tile flew toward him. Unfortunately, the tile didn't hit him, because Rodriguez ducked at the last second, allowing the renegade roof tile to fly harmlessly over his head.
"What in the hell was that?" said Rodriguez. He looked up at me and scowled. "You! Did you throw the tile? If so, it didn't work. I'm still standing, even if you took out all of my other comrades."
"That may be true, but have you considered that maybe you have spoken too soon?" I said.
Rodriguez tilted his head to the side, like he didn't understand what I meant, but then the tile hit the shed door behind him and bounced off it. It hit him in the back of the head so hard that Rodriguez fell face first onto the ground, where he lay as still as a stone.
CHAPTER FIVE
I just stared at the scene below me uncomprehendingly. Seven Injectors--the toughest of the tough, some of the most dangerous and murderous criminals alive--lay scattered around the backyard in various states of unconsciousness. The roof tile I had thrown now lay on the ground next to Rodriguez. It looked pretty harmless at the moment, but I now knew that roof tiles could be dangerous weapons in the right hands. Or at least in my hands, anyway.
Speaking of my hands, how did I even do that? I could barely even bounce a ball off a wall, yet I had made that square tile bounce all over the backyard like everything was made of rubber. Even stranger, the tile itself looked okay, not even cracked from bouncing off of so many hard surfaces.
"Good job, kid," said Grandfather again. "For a newbie, you sure got the hang of that quick. You're almost a natural, though you still have a long way to go before you'll have complete control over it."
"Are you real?" I said aloud. "Are you really Grandfather? Or am I just going insane?"
Grandfather chuckled. "Could be both. The McDonald family line is known for going crazy at sixteen. It's a family tradition, mostly because it's genetic and crops up every now and then like bad acne. Speaking of acne, you've got too much of it."
"You can't really be Grandfather," I said, "because Grandfather would never give me skin care advice."
"It's just a joke, son," said Grandfather. "Kids these days are so high strung, I swear. But never mind that. I think you should get back down to the yard and ditch the costume."
"Why?" I said, looking down at the costume I wore. "It's kind of tight, but it also looks kind of cool."
"Because the police are going to be here soon and the last thing they need to see is you in costume," said Grandfather. "They'd ask too many questions you don't have the answer to right now. Best to play the part of the scared teenager who has
no idea how these guys got defeated."
I frowned. "If I do that, will you explain who you really are and what this costume is?" I already had my suspicions, but I didn't want to say them aloud just yet in case they were wrong.
"Sure," said Grandfather. "It will be my birthday present to you. Only, I won't be able to wrap it up in a box and put a bow on top. You won't mind, though, will you?"
Either Grandfather had more of a sense of humor than I remembered or this guy actually wasn't Grandfather at all. Regardless, he had a point about getting rid of my costume. The last thing I needed was to explain my getup, mostly because I couldn't even explain it myself right now.
So I jumped off of the roof and, landing on the ground, was about to make my way over to the shed when I heard a ringing noise coming from somewhere. It sounded like someone's ring tone, but when I looked around, I could not see where it might be coming from.
Soon, however, I noticed it was coming from Rodriguez's pocket. It must have been his cell phone ringing, but I had no idea who could be calling him. Probably one of his fellow Injectors, perhaps checking to find out the current status of their mission. Or maybe ... it was his boss, Michael Jones, calling for the same reason. It made sense. My own research of the Injectors indicated that Jones worked closely even with the lowest members of the organization. If I answered the call, I might be able to find out why the Injectors attacked the bus in the first place and maybe even find Jones himself.
I walked over to Rodriguez' unconscious body and fished his smartphone out of his back right pocket. As I suspected, the number on the screen was listed as 'BOSS,' so I swiped right to answer and held the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Rodriguez," said a deep, calm voice on the other end, which I assumed was Jones. "I have not heard from you since you left headquarters this morning. How is the mission going?"
