‘Freezing’ was the last stage, and there wasn’t anything you could do for the rest of the game even if all of your friends jumped on you, knocked you over, and punched and kicked you as hard as they pleased. If you moved, if you shouted, or even if you cried, you lose the game no matter what happened. I never cried once at this stage of the game, and I’m not going to lose this game tonight either.
I’m at the first stage of the game. I know I’m at stage one: freeze. I could move if I wanted to, but if I do, I’m in danger also. So I don’t move. My dog, he’s waiting on me to give him a hand signal. He’ll freeze until I tell him to do something different, and I wait give him the signal to move. That’s Spike. He’s one of the best heroes I know. All my dog wants to do is please and protect me, and he does so much more for me than I’ve ever done for him. He expects nothing in return.
Freeze, I say over and over to myself in my brain. Move and you’ll die. Take a step forward and you’ll die. Don’t move. Don’t take a step forward. Freeze, I think to myself. Freeze. I also want my dog to be safe, and I think, not daring to speak, but I think, Spike, please stay still.
This is when things change. But I act in the moment. I move. When I move, I save my life. It’s no longer a game. It’s time to keep moving.
I move, and I save my life. Another bullet strikes where I’d been standing. When I move, Spike moves. Maybe I save his life too because the bullet misses me and it also misses my dog.
I don’t hear the first shot, and the bullet doesn’t make the typical ping sound. It isn’t a high pitched sound like they are in the movies, but it makes more of a loud thud sound as it strikes the ground. I haven’t been shot at too many times in my life, but enough to know the sound of a bullet when I hear it. I move around a corner and hide in a shadow where I think I’m going to be safe for now.
My attacker doesn’t see me anymore, and he starts yelling at me see if he can find out my new location. “My shots are not as good as my rhymes, you are not my target; you are wasting my time,” says the voice of the Beat. He’s shouting across the alley, I think from on top of the building. I can see the beam from the laser scope of his rifle flash about in front of my eyes. He speaks again, “I’m not here to invade your space; I’m here to take away your father’s younger face.”
I’m right; he’s on top of the building. If I hadn’t been, I would be dead. I do something I have never done before, I shout back at the Beat. “Your poems make me think, that your breath must really stink.” Okay, I am not the poet here. But I don’t think it’s too bad considering the pressure I am facing.
Another shot, and I’m not going to leave the safety of my hiding spot. I know the Beat will see me if I leave, and I’ve seen enough late night TV to know I need a sniper of my own to take out the unseen killer. I don’t have anyone to help nearby so I’m on my own. I think I’m too far away from Smokey and the others.
I don’t know if my Blinker can see the sniper. I know he is up there, but I didn’t don’t know if he can see what’s going on any better than I can. I’m pretty sure the Black Shirt isn’t going to use a rifle to shoot at me. It isn’t his way of killing, and he wouldn’t want to lose the murder game by not getting accumulating enough style points. The Beat likes to use his poetry, but he also has a gun in this alley, and it’s the same place where he killed Daphnia. The Black Shirt likes to use his daggers, which is something else I need to worry about tonight. There could also be one of their henchmen trying to pin us down so they can finish me off, but I don’t think so. I think it’s only the Beat who is up there shooting at me. How certain am I? Pretty certain.
I can’t go forward towards the Beat. But I can retreat away. I can circle back around to where my friends are supposed to be. I look up, and I don’t see my Blinker. Best case scenario, he’s blinked himself back to Smokey and the Lady Jane, and he’s now safely with the rest of my patrol, and he’s helping them in their part of the fight. Worst case, he’s gotten dizzy, and he’s fallen off his lofty perch. I can’t see him, yet for some reason I know I can only depend on Spike’s help if I’m going to get out of here alive.
I retreat back to William Street. It’s like I’m in a dream. William isn’t a wide road, but it’s wider than the alley I had been in. Here, I am standing by myself, and I finally have some clarity in my brain. I’m also standing under a street light. An old car passes me, and its headlights light flash on me for a moment. I’m bathed in its artificial sun. Now I know what to do next. No one has called out ‘freezing or frozen’ in this game I am playing, and I can still move if I like. This game isn’t over, and I still have options in front of me.
Book Two Chapter Four
-An excerpt from the recording of Professor Anthony Hillsboro’s lecture, 1996, ‘Famous Heroes in History.”
Shame has been used by many societies for centuries. The English scoundrel, Peeping Tom, caught gawking at Lady Godiva, was considered shameful because he was the only one who looked through the shutters of his window as she rode past clothed only in her hair.
What is curious about this story is that Peeping Tom went blind after he viewed the beauty. He could not have been the first voyeur in history, although he might be its most famous.
This is another of the many noted incidents in recorded history of someone with a hero’s abilities. It was her husband that forced her to ride naked through the streets of Coventry. I am not telling you this tale because of Peeping Tom. I am telling you the story because of the shame that was brought on a wife because of her husband and the power of her will, her abilities.
Why would a husband do this to his wife? (There’s a long pause on the audio while he waits for an answer. There isn’t one from the audience, and the man continues.)
It was taxes. He was a landowner, an Anglo-Saxon, before the Norman invasion. He needed the revenue under the very corrupt inherited land-holding laws in Britain. They had been in place since the time of the Romans and they still had influence on Britain’s many tribes. His hand had been forced, and he had to increase the taxes on his land.
But his wife, Godiva, saw the effect of over-taxation on their people, so even though she went along with her husband’s plan, she knew what it did to her tenants. The poverty, the starvation, and the hopelessness. This is an example of the beginnings of a the superhero as we know them.
Maybe her husband thought she wouldn’t ride naked. She was, after all, the wife of a lord. She was respectable. What he didn’t count on was the fact that she had her hero abilities. That is why she warned all of their tenants to stay inside, to close their shutters, and not to look out when she rode past.
What is the question in the back of the room? Was she beautiful? There are no records or drawings of Lady Godiva made in her lifetime, but there have been countless made since. As an academic, I would like to think she was beautiful, but there is no proof one way or the other.
Yes, I like to think Godiva must have been beautiful. A real hot-house tomato, as you might say.
Back to my story. It was the shame of being naked that forced her abilities and powers. She knew, and Godiva tried to keep all those she cared for by warning themwarned all those she cared for by trying to keep them safe.
Again, back to my point about shame. She showed her powers, her hero abilities. When Tom looked out his window, he instantly became blind. If the story is true, which I think it is, then we must list Godiva as a hero.
Is there another question from the back of the room? Does shame and suffering give heroes their abilities?
An interesting question…There is no proof, but I believe they’re enhanced, bringing out a hero’s abilities, their powers.
”Don’t wait for the page to absorb the ink,” says my Grandmother grandmother to me on occasion. ‘Do something before it has a chance to dry!’ It’s her saying, and she sometimes uses it around the house when we don’t know what to do with our lives.
Now is a time when I don’t know what to do, but I know I can’t move fo
rward, yet I must do something. There’s a sniper blocking me with his bullets in the direction I want to go. I can see there’s only one more choice for me. I must go the other way.
I hear another shot, but I don’t think it’s directed at me. It sounds different, and I think it’s from another shooter above me. It helps reinforce my opinion not to go forward. Circling back around might be a better choice for me right now anyway. I want to help the others in my patrol. My thoughts turn towards my brother, who might now be in a fight with the Beat and the Black Shirt, and I’m not helping him by standing here. Maybe Spike and I could can make our way back to Rudy, we might be able to help him.
I retreat, but I stop when the pressure in my ears changes. It isn’t a change like being a passenger in an airplane, but it disturbs my eardrums enough to make me stop moving. I look down at Spike, and he’s waiting for me to do something. Nothing happens. I think it’s safe.
I’m moving again, but it isn’t towards the fight. I’m still traveling away from it, but this time I know it’s the right path. I’m certain it is.
I hear a rifle shot from above.
I hear a pinging thud as another bullet hits the concrete, but it isn’t close to me. There’s a siren in the distance, but I can tell from the sound it’s still a few minutes away. I know I have to move quickly before they arrive. The police and the Auxiliary Corps have a troubled past, and as soon as the police show up I know they will want to arrest, harass, or harm anyone they can, including those of us in the Corps.
I move past a newsstand in the Yaletown district where the vendor has had closed his shop hours before. I think I have four minutes before the police arrive. At least, that’s the calculation I make in my brain. I need to go and try to help my friends before time is up. I hope my Blinker is still up above someplace; he can still help me if he hasn’t fallen off one of the rooftops by now. I move behind the newsstand and I’m still standing there when another bullet is fired at me. It misses me, and I know one of the snipers must have relocated as well. I move because it’s in my instinct to move. I also know in the back of my mind I need to stay in motion. I know the next shot might strike me if I stand here much longer. When another bullet is fired, it lands in front of me. I move to the other side of the newsstand, and I think I might be safe for a few seconds.
My Blinker appears next to me, stumbling from the vortex of his own quick relocation to this spot. He shakes and then he falls down onto the sidewalk. He’s still twitching as I reach him. At first, I think he has been hit by the sniper’s shot, but when I touch him I know that isn’t the case. It must have been his quick transportation to me that has disoriented him, leaving him dizzy. Spike goes to him. He offers a small wall of protection, in case another bullet is fired. I check on the man. I bend down and place my right hand on his heart.
My Blinker opens his eyes and speaks to me. “What in the name of smelly fishes are you doing? I am not dead yet.”
I smile, and I’m glad he’s okay. I give him a hand. He takes it without complaining, and I help him to his feet.
“There’s another Blinker up there and he has a rifle too,” says the man who’s now standing. That confirms what I’d suspected. I know there’s another sniper shooting at me from above.
As my Blinker stands there, I notice that he’s taller than me. He isn’t as tall as Smokey, but the man does have a tall,- lanky frame. He says, “” He’s trying to kill you, but I think I distracted him.””
“I was right, there is another Blinker out there,” I say.
“There’s another Blinker , all right.“What? Did you think I’m the only Blinker in town? Your friend with the rifle must have hired him just like your group hired me. He’s up there. I saw him, and he has a rifle. But he has a weakness just like me. He’ll get dizzy because he’s been blinking around up there too many times. That’s why he hasn’t shot you yet. But he will, once he recovers. He’s trying to find a good spot to shoot you as we speak.””
I don’t know what to say.
“I’m going back up there to try to distract him again,” says my Blinker. “”Maybe if I can blink-in close enough, it will work.””
“Be careful,” I say. “Don’t get yourself shot.”
My Blinker looks at me and smiles. He’s also older than me, and I think he must have been a Blinker for a long time. He seems to take what I say as a kind of joke. “”I’m more worried about falling off that building than him actually shooting me. I can tell he hasn’t been a Blinker as long as I have because of the way he blinks in and out. He gets dizzier quicker than I do.”” He pauses before he begins again. “That’s one of the drawbacks of being a Blinker. Cool teleportation, but it really messes with our inner ear.”” He pauses before he begins again and he’s almost talking to himself. “”But I still like the chance to carry a gun, even though I’m always worried I’ll shoot myself with it. I’m dizzy all the time, so maybe that’s not a good idea.””
I think I know what he means. I can tell my Blinker wants me to back away so he can leave. I don’t know my Blinker’s real name, but on the spot I decide to call him Felix, and in my brain he reminds me of a Felix, I back up, and after he brushes himself off, he gives me a look like he’s ready to go, then he quickly blinks away. I feel a slight rush of wind and it moves me back even more.
I’m still concerned for his safety. The other Blinker has a rifle, and he might shoot Felix, the Blinker, or even worse, get a lucky shot off and shoot me. Finally, I need to worry about Spike. He’s an authentic dog when he’s off my skin, and it makes him vulnerable. A bullet could kill or hurt him. He’s not a tattoo all of the time. Sometimes he’s real.
There’s a white flash in front of me, and I feel the wind again. It feels different. Something is different because there’s more intense light in this flash, and more wind. I don’t think it’s Felix, but so it could must be the other one. In an instant, Spike is there trying to protect me.
I don’t have time to see who it is. I need someplace to hide, and I need to do it before he sees me in the open. I grab my dog, and we move to the other side of the newsstand. I lie down on the ground and keep hold of Spike’s collar, trying to keep him as safe as I can. He doesn’t protest and stays next to me.
I can’t see the Blinker, but I’m sure it’s the other one, not Felix. I once knew a kid I had a school yard fight with in elementary, Oscar was his name. I decide I am going to call this other Blinker Oscar.
Oscar is not far from me on the opposite side of this small building, and I’m pinned down again in this location. I try to move away, but another bullet drives me back down on the ground, and I get as low as I can. There’s still another sniper above me—, the Beat—, and I have to watch out for him too.
Now it’s time to do something different, and I decide to use another one of my tattoos. I still have the pistol, but I’m not ready to try the gun yet. I think to myself maybe it’s time for me to get another tattoo to help me out in situations like this. Spike is the one I use the most. I still have on me the snake and the dagger. I sigh, and I still have to decide which one. I’m not sure which one I’m going to use.
I decide to use the snake. Sometimes I forget how big she is when she takes her full form. I sit up off the ground and get to my knees. I ready myself and hold the reptile in both of my hands. I’ll wait for Oscar to come to the other side of the newsstand. I hope he’ll walk around the corner of the small building. I will have to trust he won’t see me while I’m kneeling on the ground. I’ll just have to wait there long enough and throw my snake when I see him.
I’m surprised when he does exactly what I want him to do. He comes into my view, and I throw my snake at him. She lands where I need her to, and Oscar shakes, twists, and then screams as he tries to get her off. A voice in my head says, iIt’s going to take more than that to get her off of you. I know she’s strong as she wraps herself around him, and squeezes Oscar. He can’t hold on to the rifle and drops it. I move to the weapon and pick it u
p as quickly as I can.
It takes me a second, and then I’m ready to move again. I hear another bullet strike the ground. This is my chance to get out of here, and I’ll have to leave my snake behind. I get to my feet and I say to Spike, “”Come on. Let’s go.””
My dog starts to follow me, and then I see Felix flash in front of me. He’s come back and I want to yell at him to get him, but I don’t because I see something else. It’s a gun. A rifle. And when he isn’t dizzy any longer, he sees me and smiles. “Where did you get that?” I ask.
He says, smiling, “From that poet. Boy, was he surprised. He didn’t notice me because he was concentrating so hard on firing at you. It was during the last one I grabbed hold of his rifle and blinked away. Neat trick, huh? Hey, what’s going on over there?”
I smile back at him, knowing I don’t have to worry about the Beat for the time being. I turn with him to look at what my snake is doing to the other man.
She’s still squeezing Oscar. I walk over to her and I touch her lightly on her scaly skin. When I do, she relaxes her grip slightly on Oscar. He can’t get away, but at least she won’t kill him.
She is no ordinary constrictor, and there have been times where she’s wrapped herself around me when I had let her loose, so I know she’s strong. I know what the man in front of me is going through. Oscar, on the ground, doesn’t stand a chance, and if I’d had I wasn’t so worried about Rudy more time I might almost feel sorry for the poor guy.
I relax and examine the rifle I picked up off of the ground. I see it looks cheaper than the one Felix is holding. I pull out its magazine and put it into the back pocket of my pants. I also release its bolt back towards me, and a round flies out of the chamber. I’m satisfied there are no more rounds in it. We are all safe for now. Spike returns to my side.
I let the snake hold onto Oscar for a little longer. He doesn’t seem conscious any more. I’m still holding his rifle, and while I have removed the ammo, the weapon still makes me nervous. I don’t want him to have another chance. I’ve learned in my short career that it’s better not to give the bad guys another opportunity to kill you.
Auxiliary Hero Corps: Collection of books one, two, and three in the Auxiliary Hero Corps series. (Superheroes Of The Hero Union Corps) Page 9
