by Andy Briggs
“Storm’s getting worse,” warned Emily.
Lorna followed her gaze outside as she had a troubling thought. “Toby, I don’t think you should be on the phone during a thunderstorm.”
Toby didn’t look up, as a series of the new Hollywood movie trailers appeared on-screen. “We’re not on the phone. We’re on the Net.”
“Yeah, but it still uses the phone line, stupid.”
Pete looked up at her, his mouth forming the words to agree. But whatever sound came out was masked by a blinding flash of lightning and a simultaneous, sonorous roll of thunder that made the pictures on the wall rattle as if a bomb had exploded outside.
Which was close to what had actually happened. Lorna saw the jagged fork of lightning lick the top of the telephone pole at the end of the backyard, and when she closed her eyes she still had the ghostly afterimage imprinted on her retina. None of them saw the electric bolt crackle along the phone cable toward the house.
The computer made a high-pitched death rattle before the screen went blank.
Pete’s heart was hammering from the momentary excitement. “Wow! That was close!”
Lorna shook her head. “It struck the telephone pole. Look, it killed the computer.”
Toby stared at the blank screen in horror. “Oh God, no. Not now.”
A vengeful smile tugged Lorna’s lips. “Dad is going to kill you for breaking his computer! All his work files are on it!”
Toby felt a sudden sickness in the pit of his stomach. Lorna was right. Their father was an archaeologist and, as far as Toby knew, all his research was stored on the hard drive. He just prayed that his father had had the foresight to insure against exactly this type of situation.
“Dad’s not even in the country!” He wondered where exactly he was; somewhere in Mexico, Mom had said. His work meant that it was normal for him to disappear for weeks on end with only a satellite phone for communication, and that was usually temperamental at best.
“Lightning could have blown the fuse, or even the power pack!” said Emily.
Pete looked at her skeptically. “Oh, you’re a PC expert all of a sudden?” he teased.
Emily rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile.
Pete examined the casing. “Fan’s still on in the computer. Maybe it’s just the screen?”
Toby thumbed the monitor’s power button with a faint trace of hope. His spirits lifted as an image slowly returned to the screen.
“Thank God!” he said, breathing out a huge sigh of relief. He flicked a victorious look at his sister. “It’s not broken.”
Lorna made a face. “Well, you should get off it before you do break it.”
Not willing to push his luck any further, Toby reluctantly agreed. “Point taken.”
His hand found the mouse, guiding it across the virtual desktop to shut the system down, when Pete suddenly grabbed his wrist to stop him.
“Wait! That’s not the Web site we were on before.”
The movie trailers had been replaced by a completely different set of icons and text, all of it unfamiliar.
“So? You’d still better turn it off,” warned Lorna.
Toby waved his hand to silence her. “Hold on, Lorn. Take a look. This is weird.”
Lorna and Emily crowded next to the boys. A bold banner filled the top of the screen: “HERO.COM.”
“This another of your stupid comic-book sites?” Emily asked.
Pete pointed to the screen, leaving a new spot where his finger had been. “Look at the Web address.”
“Geekybrother.com, by any chance?” said Lorna smugly.
The address bar on the screen was devoid of the usual “http:” or “www” prefixes and instead was replaced by a series of strange characters. “What kind of site is Hero.com?” asked Lorna.
“One that’s not on the Internet,” said Toby ominously, as another flash of lightning and a thunder roll indicated the storm was retreating. But the rain outside still drummed heavily.
Underneath the banner, a series of four icons stood out. Toby passed the pointer over each; it changed to a hand, indicating the icons were separate links to click on. But other than the enigmatic title, there was not another word in English … or any other language for that matter.
“Click on something,” urged Pete.
“Okay. The first symbol, I guess,” said Toby, motioning toward a swirling whirlpool. He clicked and moments later the Web page changed to another series of icons. These looked more familiar: a stickmanlike figure in various poses: flexing muscles, lines coming from its eyes, stretched horizontally, shimmering, bloated …. There were so many that Toby had to scroll down the page to see them all.
“This is stupid,” said Emily. “It’s just another boring, nerdy Web site.”
With a faint pop, a smaller window appeared on the screen. Paragraphs of text wavered between dozens of languages before finally solidifying into English.
“I can’t read that. What’s it say?” said Pete, taking off his glasses and rubbing the dirty lenses vigorously on his shirt.
Toby read aloud, “Welcome to Hero.com. As new visitors you have a free two-day trial download. Maximum of one download per person. Be sure to check out the mission board and don’t forget to fight on for justice!”
Silence filled the room as they each took in the words.
“Junk,” said Lorna. “I’ve heard about these things. They ask you to download what turns out to be a virus onto your computer then they take all your bank information.”
“It’s called phishing,” said Pete.
Emily glanced at him. “You would know that, wouldn’t you?”
“I know a lot of stuff,” he snapped back defensively.
“So what’s the harm? I don’t have a bank account,” said Toby.
“Duh! Our parents do! It’s all a big scam to get money!”
Toby looked thoughtfully at the screen. “Maybe they’re just games. And the first two days are free?”
“You’re an idiot,” said Lorna.
Toby’s cursor circled the screen, the pointer falling on the icon of the stickman crouching on all fours. “We’ve got a virus checker. What’s the worst that could happen?”
His finger clicked the button.
The screen seemed to ripple. Toby could have sworn the very material of the LCD screen bulged toward him like a funnel, whipping out to tap him gently on the forehead, all in a split second.
Lorna gaped at her brother, not quite believing her eyes. But the expressions that Pete and Emily wore confirmed that something bizarre had just happened.
“Now that was a strange … optical illusion. You okay, Tobe?” asked Pete.
Toby nodded. The room seemed to revolve unsteadily around him as though he’d been spinning on the spot. He placed both hands firmly on the desk to steady himself. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” The feeling passed as soon as he said it. He went to pull his hands from the desk.
They wouldn’t budge.
Toby frowned. He pulled harder. This time his hands peeled away like suction cups on a window, complete with a loud sucking noise. The others backed away from him, concern evident on their faces. Toby examined his hands. They seemed normal enough, if a little dirty.
“What’s wrong?” asked Pete.
Toby was silent. He stood up from his chair, hands held straight out with his palms up. His fingers tingled as if he’d been sleeping on them. Some inkling appeared at the back of his mind, spurred on by his over-active imagination.
“Something’s different,” he mumbled.
Lorna raised her hand to his shoulder, but the expression on his face made her hesitate. “What is it?”
Toby turned to the curtains and gingerly touched them with one hand. The material instantly stuck to his fingers like glue and would not drop away until he gave his fingers a sharp flick.
“What’s on your hands?” Lorna asked.
“Some kind of electrostatic charge?” asked Pete. “Like when paper sti
cks to a comb, or you rub a balloon on your hair and it sticks to the wall.”
Lorna shot Pete a scornful glance. “Thanks for that, Professor. I’m in advanced science, okay?”
Peter winced. He hated being called “Professor.” It was the nickname the bullies at school had given him.
A million thoughts swirled around in Toby’s mind. He’d read enough comics and watched enough hours of cartoons to be able to put the pieces together. Even if the pieces were extremely unlikely, or even impossible.
He turned to face a wall and extended his hands, palms up, fingers splayed. Toby licked his lips in anticipation; then thrust his hands forward.
They stuck to the wall!
Emily’s mouth opened in amazement. “What’s happening to you?”
With a grunt Toby placed one foot against the wall, then the other. They stuck too. Whatever had happened to him had also affected the material of his sneakers.
“What the heck?” exclaimed Lorna, astonished at the sight of her brother held fast against the wall.
“I’m walking … on … the wall!” said Toby in astonishment.
Using all his strength he managed to free his right hand and left foot, positioning them further up the wall. Then he followed with his opposite limbs—raising him higher up on the surface.
Pete pushed his glasses firmly on his nose, as though it would dispel the illusion. “That’s completely impossible!”
Pulling himself further up the wall, Toby positioned himself nose-to-nose with the ceiling.
“Impossible or not … he’s doing it,” said Lorna in an awed voice. She was smart and, if she were being honest, she’d have to admit they all were. But Toby’s actions defied both physics and logic, at least to the best of her knowledge. Surely, she thought, if people could walk up walls then everybody would be doing it? She would have seen it on TV. A voice of reason chimed from the recesses of her mind: she must have fallen unconscious when the lightning struck. This must be a dream.
But as her nails dug into the palms of her clenched fists the pain assured her she was still conscious, which meant this had to be real.
“We’ll be famous,” she murmured.
“That’s awesome!” exclaimed Pete.
“No, that is so weird!” Emily added.
“Watch this then,” said Toby, now feeling a little more confident with his newfound skill.
Leaning backward as much as he dared, he moved one hand to the ceiling, quickly followed by the other. Making the transition from vertical wall to upside-down ceiling with his feet was easier than he’d anticipated.
“This is awesome!” he exclaimed as he scuttled across the ceiling like a lizard. The others started giggling despite their trepidation. “Except I can feel the blood rushing to my head.”
Lorna shook her head. “This can’t be possible.”
“You’re right,” said Pete, grinning as he pushed himself into the leather chair and rolled forward to the keyboard. “It’s the Web site! It lets you do the impossible! Gives you power. I have to try this!”
Emily peered over his shoulder. “How? You can’t just download things. It’s not music, you know! You can’t download physical things. If you could, people would be downloading pizza all the time.” She wavered, suddenly uncertain. “Can you?”
Pete tapped the screen. “Look! ‘Hero.com.’ Says it all. Toby’s just turned himself into a superhero.”
Lorna tore her gaze away from her brother. “Pete, no! You don’t know the …”
Click! Again the screen seemed to funnel out and this time it tapped Pete on his forehead. He found the micro-experience unsettling. Emily blinked, missing the whole event.
Toby scuttled in a circle on the ceiling. He peered down at them, his voice filled with excitement. “Well, what did you choose?”
Pete shook his head. “I have no idea. I was going for the flying guy … but the mouse slid. I clicked on something else.”
Pete climbed from the chair and stretched his arms expectantly. Nothing happened.
“Come on!” he screamed. “Go!”
“Maybe it only works once?” Lorna said.
Pete walked around the desk to the center of the room, where he stretched his arms out. Toby looked down.
“The screen said a two-day trial,” said Pete. “It has to work!”
“Try jumping?” suggested Toby.
Pete jumped, his feet thumping hollowly on the floor. “Nothing,” he reported. A sensation spread through his body, a pleasant kind of pins and needles.
“Maybe it made you stronger or something?” said Emily.
Pete flexed both his arms like a champion weightlifter as he strained what feeble muscles he had. His arms grew warmer as blood coursed into his biceps—
WHUMP! Snarling orange flames covered his body as though somebody had covered him in gasoline and lit a match. Emily screamed as waves of heat seared her face. She could feel her bangs burning. Lorna stepped back, too amazed to say anything.
Toby, who was directly above, felt the full impact of the heat blast; flames singed his clothing. He threw his arms up to cover his face, flailed wildly and swung, upside down, from both feet.
Pete stood calmly in the center of the room, staring at the flames dancing across his body and clothing.
“I can’t feel a thing!” he exclaimed. “It tickles, but it’s not hot. Not even warm.”
Toby gawked. “That’s incredible.”
“It’s impossible,” Lorna whispered. “You should be burned alive by now.”
Pete clapped his hands together—a blue spike of fire momentarily gushed from his palms like a Bunsen burner.
“Pete, stop it!” shouted Emily. She looked and sounded worried.
Pete looked up with an expression usually reserved for Christmas Day. “This is so cool! I mean, hot!”
“You’ll hurt yourself!” she warned.
“The rug!” shrieked Lorna.
All eyes were drawn to Pete’s feet, where a circular section of the fine-printed rug had already burned away, the edges smoldering in a slowly increasing circle. Toby just had time to take this in, when an ear-piercing screech made him look around.
“The smoke alarm!” he said.
“Pete!” warned Lorna. Then she saw something beyond him. Through the window, past the lightning-struck telephone pole, a black BMW four-by-four had turned into the drive, windshield wipers battling the rain.
“Mom’s home!” wailed Lorna.
The moment Pete’s attention faltered the flames extinguished in a dull thump. For a moment the four of them stood in confused shock, before Lorna gathered herself together.
“Tobe, turn the computer off! Pete, roll the rug up. We’ll have to hide it for now. Em, help me stop the smoke alarm.”
Without question everybody moved into action. Toby scuttled down the wall headfirst and, with a faint popping noise, vaulted both feet off the wall to the floor and twisted his hands free.
Emily and Lorna dragged a chair into the hallway, directly beneath the smoke alarm. Lorna clambered onto the chair, which creaked under her weight, and stood on her toes—but still the button to mute the device was just out of reach.
Toby slid in front of the computer and grabbed the mouse. But he hesitated. If he closed the Web site now, would he ever find it again? Was this his only opportunity? This was something he simply couldn’t ignore; the implications of what had happened were momentous, and he certainly couldn’t let his mother stop them from exploring the find of the millennium.
Since turning twelve, Toby hadn’t seemed able to get along with his mother. It wasn’t as though he was always in trouble, in or out of school. It was just a feeling that nothing he did was good enough for her. She just always seemed to favor Lorna, and with his father rarely around, whom could he turn to for support?
His swell of rebellion was dampened by the sound of the car door closing. He knew he had little alternative. Thinking fast, his hand zipped the mouse across the screen. M
oments later the computer was shutting down. He logged off completely: just his little contribution to using less energy and saving the planet. Then he raced over to Pete, who was struggling to roll up the rug.
“Move it!” Toby said, helping him.
Lorna strained for the smoke alarm again, annoyed at herself for not being taller. She made one big leap off the chair—and missed. Instead she landed on the floor with both feet, the impact causing a small table to wobble precariously.
“Toby!” yelled Lorna. “I can’t reach the alarm!”
Pete and Toby stashed the rug in a nook between two bookcases. Pete began frantically to stack some fallen books back on the shelves as Toby raced into the hallway.
“Let me try!” said Toby as he climbed on the chair. But he was marginally shorter than his sister, and the button was well out of reach.
“Can you climb up the wall?” suggested Emily.
Toby looked at her in surprise. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
“Hurry!” urged Lorna.
Toby took a deep breath and launched himself off the chair. Pete ran into the hallway just in time to see Toby stick midway up the wall, scrambing onto the ceiling as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Racing on all fours, Toby reached the alarm and stabbed the button—silencing it—just as a key was inserted in the front door lock.
Lorna used her foot to kick the chair against the wall. Toby pulled his feet off the ceiling—and hung from his hands, unable to let go.
“Help!” he said as the front door began to swing open.
Pete and Emily both jumped up and grabbed a leg each. Toby’s arms and legs felt as if they were being plucked from their sockets as they tried to pull him away from the ceiling. He wouldn’t budge. Toby yelled out in pain as Emily hung from his leg, her feet cycling wildly.
