by Tom Andry
"And that's when she showed up?" Alan asked.
The man nodded vigorously, trying to get control of his emotions. "Yeah, that's right. A super I've never seen before. Had a mohawk. She slammed him against the wall with some sort of green field. He fought back, even knocked her down. But eventually, she drove him off. She saved us all."
The picture cut back to Alan behind the desk, "The Bulwark has released this picture and information."
The screen changed to a picture of Nissa with her vinyl outfit, now with a large V on her chest, cowhide glove removed. Her expression was stern but confident under her eye mask. There was a second picture with Nissa from the side, her green, scaly skin clearly visible.
Alan's voiceover continued over a third image of Nissa, the first two side by side. "They call her Saint and she's new. The Bulwark claim that they've been developing her, and others like her, for years. That this Vanguard, as they are called, were supposed to be announced during the Tournament. While The Bulwark would continue their role as Earth's defense force, Vanguard would be the Earth's strike force. They were en route when The Raven attacked. Now, they are being brought into The Bulwark fold and will be leading the fight against The Raven."
The picture cut again to a serious Alan, "This is great news to all of us and, especially, to all those who had all but given up hope. To know that, not only is The Bulwark still in action, but that there is a new group with powerful members who have already had success against The Raven. Reportedly, the members of The Bulwark and Vanguard are training somewhere out in the desert in preparation for the final showdown with The Raven. Citizens are urged to stay indoors as much as possible for the next few days until this crisis passes. I think I speak for us all when I say, God speed and good luck."
I turned back to the nurse as the TV started rehashing the same information again along with specific details on how to stay safe in a super fight. I rolled my eyes. The only way to stay safe in a super fight was to be in a different town. Staying inside was no help. Too often supers used electrical poles and structures as things to throw at their opponent or to throw their opponent through. Sure, during periods of inactivity the Super State liked to promote the statistic that you were more likely to die in a car accident than as a casualty in a super fight, but that didn't explain why Liz was always so busy.
Liz.
"We're here for Liz Novac? I was called. Bob Moore?"
The nurse tore her eyes away from the TV and met mine, realization finally dawning, "Of course. Moore, Bob. Here you are." She reached into a drawer and took out a card, handing it to me, "This is your pass. Ms. Novac insisted on seeing you. It's through that door, second hallway on the left."
I nodded, "Which room?"
"Just follow the cops. Can't miss it."
"Cops?"
"Yeah, turns out she's got a lot of friends in high places." She glanced at a piece of paper, "An Officer Clark ordered it."
I smiled. Clark. I wasn't sure if he was trying to score points with Liz or me. Either way, it was a good political move. Clark was a smart one.
I started to leave, but the nurse touched my hand, "Mr. Moore. Your friend. She needs you to be strong."
I looked back at the nurse. She'd seemed young and inexperienced at first glance, but now that I really looked at her, I could see the knowledge behind her eyes. She might have been young, but she knew her stuff. Maybe she'd worked in a high violence area or something, but her gaze didn't waver. She was giving advice that should be taken, "Strong?"
"She hasn't seen yet, Mr. Moore. She doesn't know. Are you dating?" I shook my head, "Does she date?"
I stammered, "I...don't know. I'm sorry."
She smiled, knowingly, "Well, you're the only one she asked for, so probably not. But that means that your opinion is important. She's in a lot of pain and on a lot of meds, but you have to assume she's going to remember your entire visit. Probably not, mind you, but just assume so. Now, it actually looks a lot worse than it is, but it isn't good. Mostly second degree burns with a few superficial wounds. Fortunately, her lungs were unharmed so she could actually go home in a day or so if she had someone to help her out?" She looked at me expectantly, but I couldn't meet her eyes. She stood and put a hand on my shoulder, leaning over the desk to do so, "That's fine. Remember, sometimes this first visit can have a profound effect. It's been my experience that the ones who have someone come in and react positively have a much better recovery rate."
I shook my head, "What about healers? Don't you have any?"
"Usually, yes. But not now. Healing takes a lot out of a super, usually, and all the good ones...well, they were at the Tournament. The ones we have left are good for a broken bone or two. Not burns. Not like Ms. Novac's."
I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.
"Now believe me, we're doing everything we can. But we are not the only hospital in the city, much less the world, hurting for healers. And with second degree burns...well, it's probably one of the most painful things you can go through."
"But every day she goes..."
She smiled, sadly, "You've obviously been treated by a healer before. You're right. Every day she heals on her own increases the scarring. Even the best healers on the planet...who were on the planet...would have a hard time removing extensive scarring. Chances are that Ms. Novac is going to have to live with her scars." She smiled again, "That's why your reaction is going to be so important. You have to let her know that it is okay. Your reaction will tell her more than your words."
I nodded and turned to the door. The hallway seemed long and at some point, Nineteen slipped her hand into mine. I looked down, trying to push the sense of dread from my mind. We turned the corner and saw the cops lining the walls. They were stationed one at every door throughout the hallway. Only one door had two guards. I assumed it was Liz's. As one, the cops turned to us. I held up my pass and the majority of them turned back to stare forward, a skill, I think, required to pass through the academy. All except one. He was staring at us from the side of Liz's door.
Well, staring at Nineteen. I swear; having a kid gets you more attention than a puppy.
I had thought I'd take Nineteen in with me, but the presence of the cops pretty much killed that plan. I'd have to leave her outside or risk someone figuring her out. What I really needed was a couple of people I could trust to test out Nineteen's power. So I knew if she could turn on and off the forgetting thing if I asked her. I'd thought I'd do it with Liz, but considering her condition, much less the presence of the cops, that was out. I'd have to hope for some alone time with Nissa. Or maybe Gale. I shook my head. No, not Gale.
Time. What was I even thinking about? According to Ted's new security system, Nineteen didn't have much time. What did it matter? And what was I doing with her anyhow? I should just give her to Gale and The Bulwark and let them use her. If she was going to die anyhow...
No. After the lies I just heard from Alan's news report, and the information they are obviously hiding from me, I couldn't trust them. Not with so much at stake. They'd be fine. They didn't need her. And if Nineteen was going to die soon, I'd rather she be with me than with them. Plus, they were supers. Screw them.
I barely spared a glance at the rotund cop as he took my pass and gave it the once-over. "Could you guys watch her for a minute? I'm not sure she should be seeing this."
The cop handed back the pass and nodded, "Sure, buddy. No problem." The cop on the other side of the door with bushy eyebrows simply nodded.
I was too busy steeling myself for Liz to really notice. As long as Nineteen stayed in their immediate vicinity, I was hoping they'd remember her. I'd pick her up on the way out and all they'd remember was my visit. I turned and took a knee in front of Nineteen using the opportunity to glance once more up and down the hallway making sure there were no cameras recording my presence with the girl.
"You stay here with the nice officers, okay? Uncle Bob will be right out."
Nineteen tilted
her head to the side at first, but finally nodded. She looked up at the cop with the eyebrows and took his hand. I waited for a few seconds before I stood, making sure he didn't collapse in agonizing pain. I draped my overcoat over my arm and, on a whim, placed my hat on Nineteen's head. She looked up at me through her sunglasses. I couldn't help but smile. She looked so cute. So normal. I almost jumped back when a hint of a smile crossed her lips as fleeting as a cool breeze on an August afternoon. I swallowed, turned back to the door, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.
Hospital rooms in movies and television shows are always so clean and professional. They are white from floor to ceiling and they are full of high-tech equipment and apparatus. The real thing is much more mundane. Liz's room was a garish mixture of equipment and an attempt at comfortable decorations. It had decades-old furniture strewn around, interspersed with tippy-level medical apparatus. It had an antiseptic smell and a low, background hum from equipment functioning that all the lamps, framed posters, and flowery wallpaper couldn't cover up.
There were bouquets of flowers and balloons covering every available surface. I stuck my hands in my pockets, feeling strangely naked. It wasn't that I wouldn't have brought anything; it was just that it had been the last thing on my mind. The cards had all been pulled and set on the table that straddled Liz's bed. She was in a half-seated position with the back of the bed raised and there was a TV in the far corner near the ceiling replaying the news.
My eyes finally made their way to Liz. I'm not sure what I expected, but it was both worse and better. Part of me had expected her to die or to be burned beyond recognition. That wasn't the case. Half her face and all of her scalp was covered in gauze. One eye was covered with a patch, but the other, eyebrow burned away, studied me. The sheets covered most of her body, but I could tell that the majority was wrapped like her face. The skin I could see was red and angry. Around the gauze, I could see small bubbles of second-degree burns. I didn't want to imagine what was under the bandages. She'd been through something horrible, for sure, but her eyes were as bright and alert as I'd ever seen them.
"Thanks for coming, Bob," her voice warbled slightly as though she'd just had dental work and the anesthetic hadn't worn off yet.
Hearing her voice really brought everything home. She sounded hoarse, as one would after excessive smoke inhalation, but I could sense the resolve in her voice. I smiled in response, forcing the smile to my eyes, "No problem," I answered lamely.
Liz moved her right arm slightly and I noticed a small red button on a remote connected to the wall by a long cable. "You know what this is?"
"For the drugs, I'm sure."
"Yeah," she slurred, "for the pain. I haven't pressed it since I woke up."
"Why?" I stammered. "That's been hours!"
"I wanted you to know you were talking to me, not the drugs."
I swallowed, "Understood. Now what..."
"Just shut up, Bob," a tear escaped from her eye, "let me talk. Let me talk so I can press the hell out of this button."
I nodded vigorously, clamping my mouth shut.
"I know you, Bob; you're going to go after them."
My eyes grew hard.
"See, it's what you're here for, right? Getting the information so you can do...whatever?"
"Them!" I hissed, "I knew it. Liz, what happened?"
"That's just it, Bob, I'm not telling you."
"But..."
"No buts. Stay out of it. It was an accident." She turned away, whimpering at the movement, "They're just kids."
"Screw that," I growled. "Tell me who did this."
"No," she responded simply and I heard a click from the machinery.
"Liz," I pleaded, "I get it. You don't want me to do something stupid. But I have to know. I promise, I won't get hurt."
She laughed, hoarsely. A gravelly sound that pained me nearly as much as it seemed to hurt her, "No Bob," another click, "you don't get it. I'm not worried about you. It's about them. They didn't know. They didn't know I was there. They made a mistake," another click. "And I get that. But they deserve a second chance. They deserve a little forgiveness."
For a second I couldn't speak. My mouth hung open with about fifteen different responses dancing on my tongue. I blinked and shook my head, rapidly trying to sort out which one to go with. Finally I decided on, "You've lost your mind."
"That's just it, Bob," click, "I haven't. I know you, sometimes, I think, better than you do. You don't forgive, Bob, you never have. You don't forgive yourself and you sure as hell don't forgive others. You're going to try and find them. You may not know what you'll do, but in the end, it won't be kind." Click. Her eyes started to glaze over as I realized that the clicking was her pressing the pain medication button. "I love you, Bob, but you're rarely kind. At least not to those who get in your way. Don't, Bob. Just don't. This is mine. This pain, these people, they are mine. I don't want you getting involved."
"Liz," I begged, "listen. Just tell me what happened. Not who, what."
She shook her head, but answered, "Just some kids. Some scared kids. I think they thought I had something that could protect them. It was an accident. Just an accident..."
I watched as she slowly slurred her way to sleep. I shook my head. Let them go? Let them get away with doing this to her? Pain meds or no, she wasn't in her right mind. Maybe she had her own plan for them, but I wasn't going to wait on that. I had to know who did it. Maybe I would just keep tabs on them, making sure they didn't skip town while she recovered. She didn't have to tell me who, only confirm that someone was at fault. Now that she'd given me that confirmation, I knew whom to talk to next.
I stepped away from the bed, but stopped.
You are rarely kind.
That wasn't true, was it? Was I really so callous? I could think of tons of people that I'd helped over the years, not the least of which was Liz herself. Hell, my contributions alone to TOP pretty much kept her in business. I half suspected she accepted money from other contributors just to give them a chance to donate and feel like they had some measure of control.
Because that's what most contributors to organizations were looking for: control.
So she let them contribute, let them think they could influence her, and when they tried, she'd cut them off. Because she didn't really need them. She had me. And I never asked for anything. She handled my money, hid my earnings. When you dealt with supers, you had to expect that one would think to come at you from that angle. But I could pay someone else for that for far less than I contributed to Liz.
I shook my head. She was wrong. She didn't know me. Everyone does things they regret. An image of confetti danced across my mind. But regret is one thing. All I wanted was to find out who did this to her. Find out just how much of an accident it really was. I didn't have any plans for revenge. I just wanted the info. Then, when she was better, I'd bring it to her. And let her decide.
I exhaled and opened the door.
"Get on the ground! Get on the ground, now!" a chorus of voices rang out.
I froze in place, blinking rapidly, trying to understand what was going on. Every cop in the hall was surrounding the door, guns drawn. My heart started to pound and I could feel the adrenaline pump into my bloodstream. My hands shot up as if I could deflect the bullets with my palms.
"Whoa, what the hell..." I managed before I noticed that none of the cops were actually pointing their guns at me. The cops were a mismatch of standing, kneeling, and everything in between with their guns pointed in all directions as if they didn't know where an attack might come from. Of course, now that I'd said something, a few did turn my way. From my left, I heard a breath expelled in pain followed by a low moan. I turned.
The cop with the bushy eyebrows was on the ground, clutching his head. Blood was dripping from his nose and ears and his eyes were wide and wild with pain. His hat had fallen off, revealing his bad comb over. It had also dislodged an eyebrow. I'd have known that face anywhere. I'd only seen it for a f
ew short moments at the club, but it was indelibly imprinted in my mind.
Master Tay.
I scowled and made a move toward the prone figure, nothing but red rage in my mind.
"Stay back, sir," a cop shouted out. "A doctor is on the way."
They didn't know. They hadn't made the connection. I gritted my teeth in frustration. I had to get out of there, get Nineteen away. But I so wanted to wring that asshole's neck. Find out about the other clones. Twenty. But I couldn't. Not in front of these cops. I wasn't sure why he was here, but it was surely to do with Nineteen. He must have remembered her...or maybe one of her predecessors, and made the connection.
I didn't have time for this.
Before anyone could react, I swung my overcoat off my arm and around the girl who was standing over the writhing form of her former master, my hat still in on her head. As I did, I called out hoping that my ploy would work, "You're right, he's not a cop! He's wearing a disguise!"
As I hid the form of Nineteen from the cops, they started to blink and sway in confusion. I leaned down and hissed, "Tell me. Where are the others? Where are they!"
Tay's eyes rolled in their sockets, unable to focus on anything. I stepped back, Nineteen in my arms and wrapped up in the overcoat. Slowly, the cops were all regaining their senses and, I hoped, incorporating my statement into their new memories. I couldn't risk a longer interrogation.
A cop touched my arm and gently, but firmly pulled me behind him, "Stand back, sir. Let us handle this." He, with his partner, stepped forward. He knelt down, his partner with his gun extended standing over him. He holstered his gun and pushed up Tay's face, completely dislodging his hat. The eyebrow came with it. He jumped back, retrieving his weapon, "Son of a bitch!"
I continued to walk backward with Nineteen in my arms, trying to become one with the wall. I whispered platitudes to her through my overcoat, trying to keep her from hurting anyone else. I snuck a peek inside the jacket. Her sunglasses had been knocked aside and she regarded me with clear blue eyes. The beauty of her, the purity of that gaze, made me catch my breath. She closed her eyes and laid her head on my chest. Even through my jacket I could feel the heat off her forehead.
