Tommy yawned. “Don’t remind me. It’s been ages since I pulled an all-nighter.” He fumbled through his belt until he found Miranda’s address. “You know Queens better than me. This isn’t far, is it?”
John squinted at the address in the fading glow from Tommy’s flashlight. “Four blocks,” he decided. “It should be an apartment.”
The two men covered the distance at a brisk pace. The streets sat mostly deserted as the looters had retreated ahead of the sun. John’s heavy steps echoed off the brownstone buildings and those few storefronts that hadn’t yet been broken by looters, rioters, or vandals. Tommy blew the feet out from under one enterprising young man who labored under an armful of stereo equipment that he was liberating.
“Tommy.” John’s tone was reproachful.
“I’m just sick of them. All of them. People are assholes, John. They don’t appreciate us or what we do for them. They don’t appreciate our suffering on their behalf.”
“You’ve had a rough day. As soon as we check on your friend, I think you’d better get some real rest.”
Tommy shrugged. The exhaustion seemed to have solidified into his very bones, as if helping to support him. “Yeah, I will,” he said, unsure if he was lying to his best friend or not.
“Here, this is it.” John pointed to a building that looked like all the others on the street.
A hand-lettered sign was taped to the security door: Electric lock not working. Please do not shut. Thanks!
“Some people are far too trusting.” Tommy pushed the door open past the rock someone had set to prop it from closing. He shined his flashlight briefly across the mailboxes in the entryway and spotted M. Kovnesky on one.
“I’ll wait here,” said John. “I don’t trust the floors in these older buildings.”
Tommy went up to the third floor, hovering to keep his footsteps from disturbing anyone who might be sleeping. When he got to Miranda’s door, he hesitated. He didn’t want to disturb her if she was asleep, but his concern overrode common sense. He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. “Miranda?” He couldn’t detect the sound of anyone stirring within, so he checked the doorknob.
It was unlocked.
He turned it and pushed. No chain was latched and the door swung open into the darkened apartment. “Miranda? It’s Tommy. Are you here?”
He moved inside. His dimming flashlight showed the clean apartment of someone obsessed with neatness, loaded with feminine touches: frilly curtains, houseplants, a Raggedy-Ann doll perched jauntily on a rocking chair in one corner. The air was perfumed, and the polished coffee table gleamed even in the dim light. “Miranda?”
He glanced into the bathroom. Spotless. Tommy liked to keep his own place clean, but Miranda took it to an entirely new level. Even her towels hung perfectly, like something in a four star hotel.
He found her in the bedroom. She lay on the bed in a chaste cotton nightgown. A faint acrid smell hung in the room, giving a sour tinge to the omnipresent perfume. Even in the stuffy heat of the air, Tommy felt a chill. “Miranda?” he asked once more, with fading hope. He cautiously touched her wrist. No pulse. Cool skin. On her nightstand, he saw an empty drinking glass beside an empty bottle of sleeping pills. Beneath them sat a folded piece of paper with the word Tommy written across it in flowing cursive.
With shaking hands, he pulled the paper free and shone his light on it.
You were wrong. I’m sorry. I wish you hadn’t saved me.
Tears of impotent rage rushed down his cheeks. He felt like a vise was squeezing his chest. Tommy’s heart pounded. The walls closed in on him. He needed to be free. He drew his power into himself, a tight angry ball of concentration. Then with a primal scream of fury, he flung it outward.
A blast of compressed wind exploded out from him and shattered the wall into dust. He stood for a moment, too wound up to be astonished. Then he flung himself out into the smoky sky with only his rage to propel him onward.
He heard John’s surprised bellow of “Tommy?” waft up after him, but pretended he hadn’t as he flew away.
#
Gretchen staggered and nearly fell. Only Shane’s arm around her waist kept her from tumbling to the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so tired.”
“Me too,” said Shane.
“Are you all right?” asked Pony Girl. She was escorting the two of them back to the safety of Just Cause headquarters. Despite the difficult events of the day, she’d explained that it was still probably one of the safest places in the city.
Gretchen nodded. “I’m fine. Really done in, though. I’m so tired that even the curb is beginning to look soft and inviting.”
Pony Girl laughed. “Well, I’m sorry we have to walk, at any rate.”
Firefighters and police at the textile factory fire had offered them a ride, but Pony Girl had refused. She wouldn’t hear of one of them acting as a taxi service under such dire circumstances.
Unfortunately, the few real taxis still on the streets wouldn’t stop for them. Gretchen could understand why. The three of them were filthy. Soot had mixed with water and sweat to make a fine layer of black mud that stained their clothes, skin, and hair. Pony Girl’s costume was torn and her skin scratched. Gretchen wouldn’t have stopped for them either.
She’d reached that stage of exhaustion where she had a semblance of fresh energy. Although she trudged and staggered, her mind felt clear and sharp. Instead of yammering at her, the power was blessedly silent. She felt she had mastered it at last.
“Hey, Pony Girl?” she asked.
“Please, call me Faith.”
“Faith, then. I was thinking. You know how Audio, er, Bobby said he was making us part of Just Cause?”
“Yes?”
“Well, did he mean it?”
“I’m sure he did, Gretchen. He doesn’t make decisions lightly.”
“Good. Because I think I’d really like to stay part of it. The team, I mean.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve had so many things happen in the past couple of days. Everything’s moving so fast. I never even imagined myself with parapowers. Now that I have them, it felt really good to use them to help people instead of hurting them.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“You guys have been so wonderful to me.” Gretchen squeezed Shane’s hand. “All of you. I want to stay here in New York. I want to return the favor.”
Pony Girl smiled. “It’s not always like this, you know. Most of the time it’s really boring. Occasionally we bust a mugger or drug dealer but besides that, it’s a lot of boring celebrity stuff. Autographs, parties, opening shopping centers.” Her smile grew wistful. “Being a superhero doesn’t mean what it used to.”
“Except days like today. Well, yesterday,” added Gretchen, since the sky was brightening. It felt like she had arrived in New York weeks ago.
They rounded the last corner and strolled onto the large plaza before the Twin Towers. Even though the sun hadn’t yet come up over the horizon, the very top floors glistened in the early morning light.
“What does it look like to see the sun rise from the top floor?” she asked Shane.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never been up that high for sunrise.”
“Can we go soon?”
“You bet.”
“It’s amazing,” said Pony Girl. “Worth getting up well before the sun.”
“Or staying up all night,” added Shane with a yawn. “Christ, I could sleep for a day and a half.”
“We’ve got rooms at headquarters. You’re welcome to stay.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll catch a couple hours of sleep, but Con Ed is going to need every hand they can get to bring power back to this city.”
Pony Girl squeezed his arm. “You’re every bit as much a hero as anyone on the team.”
He grinned.
“Gretchen,” said a voice.
They all turned to see Harlan Washington standing by a bench.
July 14, 1977, 5:00 AM
“Harlan!” said Faith in shock. She looked around but saw no sign of the Federal agents. She wondered if he had somehow escaped from them. If so, given his recent history of violence, she wouldn’t be surprised if they might already be dead. Regardless, he was a threat not yet contained and she had to do something, despite the weariness making her arms and legs leaden. She started forward.
A bullet cracked off the cement near her feet.
Faith froze. The shot had come from somewhere above her and to the right. A glance confirmed a shooter on a nearby rooftop. She saw the rising sun glint off his scope. It had to be one of the agents. “What is this?”
“We’re just after Gretchen,” said Harlan. “Release her and we’ll let you go.”
“She’s not our prisoner,” said Faith.
“I knew it!” cried Agent Simmons. Faith turned her head to see him flanking the group on the left. His pistol was out and aimed at her. She was fast, but even she couldn’t outrun a bullet. If he fired, she might dodge it, but that was a dicey proposition at best. “You goddamn superheroes and your liberal agendas. You’re going to let her go, aren’t you? She’s a murderer!”
“She’s a victim,” said Faith. “And according to the law, she’s also innocent until proven guilty.” Her voice lowered. “Unless you intend to take that law into your own hands, Agent Simmons.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Gretchen yelled.
“Gretchen, I realize you’re upset, but will you please shut up?” asked Faith. “There’s a sniper up there and he could shoot any of us at any moment.”
“Gretchen,” called Harlan. “Come on, just walk away from them and come here. You know me. I made that carousel for you.”
Faith clenched her teeth. “Simmons, why’s that kid free? What did you promise him?”
Simmons laughed. “Nothing that concerns you. You’re harboring a fugitive, Pony Girl. Far as I’m concerned, that voids your rights. Now you release Gumm into my custody or else we’re going to have a problem.”
“We already have a problem,” said Faith. “You and your partner up there on the roof. What’s he going to do, shoot us? You’re so gung-ho about going after a murderer. Are you ready to become one?”
“Don’t push me to find out. Now get your hands up.”
Faith hesitated. Her eyes flicked downward at super speed. Her radio was right there on her belt, only inches away from her hand. If she was fast enough… “I’m unarmed,” she said. “Never carried a gun. There’s no finesse in one.”
“It’s amazing what people will do when you’re holding one, though,” said Simmons. “Hands up, hero.”
“Do as he says,” Faith said to Shane and Gretchen. “Trust me.” As her own hands came up, her left hand flicked to her radio. She hoped the motion would be so fast that neither Simmons nor his partner on the rooftop would see it. Her thumb found the Send switch and locked it on.
No bullet smashed into her. Simmons didn’t seem to notice the small traitorous act. Even Harlan, who Faith now knew was working alongside the Federal agents, didn’t respond to her motion. Now she just had to stall until someone could come and help.
Just then, she realized that the night’s events had decimated Just Cause. A citywide blackout and one psychopathic thirteen-year-old had humbled and defeated the world’s greatest superheroes.
There might not be anyone left to come to their aid.
#
Harlan stared at Pony Girl and Gretchen. Hatred washed through his system, flushing uncertainty and doubt away. Pony Girl had helped take down Destroyer; he owed revenge against her. He didn’t know how or when he would exact it, but he would have plenty of time to plan and resources to implement it.
Harlan’s attention turned to Gretchen. Her lithe form filled the smudged Just Cause coveralls in a nice way. He still felt great attraction toward her. If only he could turn her, she would still be a good ally. Maybe she could teach him all the intricacies of sex, one great mystery about which he had yet to learn anything substantial. But then he remembered she’d been holding hands with the Con Ed guy. She’d made a choice, and it wasn’t Harlan.
Her loss.
His attraction to her crumbled as he realized she’d probably been fucked by that asshole. She was no better than the whores who worked the street corners in Harlan’s neighborhood.
Perhaps after Destroyer’s rampage, they might take their business elsewhere. Harlan knew that he’d begun to effect the change in society he so desired. All he needed was more time and another suit.
A stray thought of Reggie crossed his mind. Irlene must have found her by now in Harlan’s junkyard. He wondered if his security systems had gotten any of the superheroes. He doubted it; they’d been designed to defend against those on foot, not those who could fly. He’d never repeat that mistake again, he told himself. He didn’t need the junkyard lab anymore. The Feds would give him a real workshop, with legitimate tools.
He considered that Reggie was safe for the moment with Irlene. Just Cause wouldn’t harm her just to get back at Harlan, but he didn’t think that would last long. His first action once this standoff was over would be to rescue his little sister and bring her with him to a new safe place. He’d raise her the best he could, take care of her needs, and ensure she would be safe.
And she, of course, would be grateful.
“All right,” ordered Agent Simmons. “Ms. Gumm, step away from the others and come here.”
“I’ll stay here, thanks,” she said. “I think I’m safer in Just Cause custody.”
“You think?” mocked Harlan in derision. “What would you know about thinking, you stupid bitch?”
Gretchen’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
“I can’t believe I even liked you,” said Harlan. “We would have been great together, and then you had to go get involved with some… some power guy.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Gretchen. “You’re just a kid, Harlan.”
Harlan bristled. “I’m more of a man already than most guys will ever be. Him included.”
“Shut up, kid,” ordered Simmons. “Last warning, Gumm. Walk away from Pony Girl and surrender.”
“Or else what?” called Pony Girl. “You going to start shooting at us right here in the shadow of our own headquarters? Gun us down here in the plaza?”
“If I have to,” said Simmons. “I’m representing the federal government here, and you’re breaking the law.”
A distant flash of blue and white caught Harlan’s eye. It wasn’t a cloud or puff of smoke floating in the breeze. It moved with a purpose. He gasped as he remembered what Pony Girl had just said. She wasn’t just talking; she was giving directions.
“Oh shit! Incoming!” screamed Harlan.
#
Tommy headed out toward the sea. He wanted to just cut loose, start a real tornado or something. He was so upset he felt he could easily launch a hurricane if he tried hard enough.
How could everything have gone so wrong in a single day? His hopes of love with John had been dashed. A woman who could have become his friend had died by her own hand, and with her dying words chastised Tommy for having the gall to save her life.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the sun as it pushed up past the horizon; he didn’t wish to see the city below, burned and broken at the hands of its own residents. What was wrong with people that they were so quick to turn on each other? Were they inherently savage, no better than beasts, without morals or creeds?
No. He wouldn’t believe that. There was still hope; there had to be.
And yet, over the flapping of his cape in the breeze of his passage, he fancied he heard Miranda’s voice, shouting at him, accusing him of his failures from Beyond.
Then he realized the voice was coming from his radio. Still angry at himself, at Miranda, at the world, he was tempted to ignore it. Or better yet, he could hurl the offending devic
e into the sea and be done with it.
He pulled the radio from his belt and looked at it in distaste, ready to pitch it away, and perhaps likewise to pitch away Just Cause with it. He couldn’t keep being a hero when he no longer believed in those ideals.
“You going to start shooting at us right here in the shadow of our own headquarters? Gun us down here in the plaza?” The voice on the radio was Faith’s, he realized. She was in trouble.
He didn’t hesitate. He wheeled about and poured on the speed, blasting toward the World Trade Center plaza on a sheet of hurricane-force wind.
As Tommy approached his destination, he caught a glint of sunlight on glass and motion from a spot on a rooftop where none should be. He flipped sideways in his headlong flight just as he saw a muzzle flash.
Pain hit him like a fist to the ribs, knocking the breath from him. It radiated outward like fire spreading across a fuel spill. He’d been shot!
The sniper wouldn’t get a second chance. Tommy recognized Agent Stull as he closed with the rooftop. The pain in his side forgotten, Tommy blew the rifle out of Stull’s hands with a precise blast of high-pressure wind. Stull staggered and went for his sidearm.
Tommy was having none of it. Repercussions be damned. He blew Stull right off the roof. The agent yelled as he spun out into open air, and yet still retained enough presence of mind to squeeze one shot off at Tommy from his pistol, which missed.
Tommy created a downdraft, the kind that hurtled jets down hundreds of feet in seconds, and used it to pound Stull into the plaza with the force of a small meteorite.
He’d never killed before, and he searched his soul for any feeling of remorse or contrition and found none.
Black spots started to tinge his vision. Tommy looked down to see his blue and white costume had gone crimson as blood pumped from his body with each beat of his ice-cold heart. He grew dizzy and the plaza spiraled up to meet him as with his last energy he slowed his plummet to wafting down like a dead leaf before succumbing to the darkness.
Just Cause Universe 3: Day of the Destroyer Page 27
