by Strand, Kai
“Was the boy hiding himself?” Tubs asked, leaning forward with interest.
“I’m not sure. But I wonder.” Mr Sims hesitated and chewed his thumbnail.
Tubs blinked at Mr. Sims. “What, Mr. Sims, what do you wonder?”
“Well, I wonder if he was…um…cloaking his breathing. Instinctively, maybe.”
Tubs scowled. “That’s not an instinctive skill, Mr. Sims.”
Mr. Sims sputtered. “Well, it is only a su…sups…an observation, sir!”
“Hmmm.” Tubs picked up his small stack of belongings and walked out of the stark interrogation room. The hollow metal door banged closed behind him.
Chapter 4
Jeff kept a low profile that week, hanging out at a buddy’s house most of the time. He hoped not to be home when the cops paid a visit. But with no sign of them by the end of the week he started to suspect that the guy hadn’t reported the incident after all. Strange, but good.
He chided himself for his growing paranoia. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought he was the star of a new reality t.v. show. Yet when he tried to find the cameras or a director, there was never anyone around. Feeling scrutinized successfully dissuaded him from causing any trouble all week. But the itch burned in his fingers. He chuckled to himself. Burned was an appropriate description.
Jeff looked up at the sliver of night sky visible between the two buildings. Completely black, no stars, no moon. Large floodlights lit the alley, which ran between the grocery store and the oversized frou-frou store that sold bedding and bath accessories. Jeff knew from experience that he could dart out of the alley and disappear into the apartment complex across the street—quick, like a bunny.
Holding his breath against the stink, Jeff lifted the lid of the dumpster. He tossed his head to flip the shock of hair that always fell forward out of his face. He froze and peered around the alley. He thought he heard a foot scuff along the ground. Nothing. He drew a packet of matches out of his pocket. His heart raced with the thrill of knowing a fire was coming. His fingertips tingled with excitement. So much so that the book of matches fumbled out of his grip and fell to the ground. He squatted to pick it up just as the back door of the grocery store opened. Jeff wedged himself between the dumpster and the wall, annoyed at the interruption.
The person tossed a couple bags of trash into the dumpster and then closed the lid. To Jeff’s dismay, he lit a cigarette. Jeff rolled his eyes and stifled a moan. His fingers tingled; he thought he saw them spark. He turned his palms up and frowned at his fingertips. Even in the shadowy light he could see the tips were red and swollen and splotched with angry white spots. He touched a fingertip to the inside of his arm and hissed in surprise at the red-welted burn mark left behind.
The heavy metal door of the grocery store banged shut. Leveraging himself between the wall and the dumpster, Jeff pushed the dumpster away enough to stand. In the better lighting he studied his fingertips. Was he imagining the pulsating? He raised his hand level to his eyes. Sure enough, the tips of his fingers throbbed gently. But that wasn’t all. A thin wisp of smoke rose from each one. Jeff’s heart skipped a beat and his breath tripped around, trying to escape his lungs.
“I’m gonna combust!” Jeff’s voice bounced around the empty alley reminding him how very alone he was. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”
He stared at his smoking, pulsating fingers. The distended tips ached and smoldered.
“Just let it out, kid.”
Jeff gasped as the woman who’d spoken appeared out of nowhere in the alley. The petite woman dressed in slacks and a polo shirt approached Jeff. She didn’t look threatening, but he’d seen her appear out of thin air so he suspected there was more to her than her small stature indicated.
“Just let it out,” she repeated. She stared at his fingers still held out in front of him. “Or you’ll end up scorching yourself.”
She grabbed the lid of the dumpster and flung it upward. Jeff winced when it banged against the wall. “This is what you wanted to do anyway, right? Just do it.”
She stepped away from the open dumpster and looked between him and it expectantly.
Jeff’s fingers ached more. It was as if there was some sort of homing signal drawing the heat from his fingers to the piles of trash inside the dumpster.
“Turn your palms toward the trash can or you’ll end up raining fire all over yourself,” the lady said.
“What?” Jeff looked at her in amazement. How did she know what he’d been planning?
“Hurry!” She leapt at him and fumbled with his wrists, trying to force his palms toward the dumpsters.
Jeff’s resistance was natural, but the result was to his detriment. She’d succeeded in turning the palm of his left hand toward the dumpster. Unfortunately his right hand was only half turned when flame erupted from his hands.
Jeff watched the light show in awe. He’d seen fire emit from his very own fingers. Flames showered onto the dumpster, setting the contents ablaze. Had he fallen asleep behind the dumpster? Was this all only a dream? The woman seemed real. As a matter of fact, she was still trying to force his right hand around enough so that the inferno was no longer directed toward his left hand.
“Holy ssssmokes!” Jeff said. The fire went out.
He gawked at his left hand in disbelief. What should have been a charred stump now glowed red. A burning, blistering feeling erupted under the skin. The pain intensified. His face contorted and a couple nasty words escaped his mouth. The woman stepped back from him, a sympathetic look on her face. Jeff doubled over as the pain seared his hand.
“I’ll be right back,” the woman said just before disappearing into thin air.
“If this is a dream, it shouldn’t hurt so much, should it?” Jeff asked himself.
Seconds later the backdoor of the store opened and the woman stepped out, carrying a large bag of ice. She plopped it on the ground at Jeff’s feet and tore the top open. “Here.”
Jeff stared at her, cradling his shiny red hand.
She rolled her eyes and huffed at him. Then she grabbed the wrist of the throbbing hand and plunged it into the bag of ice.
The relief was instant and ecstatic for Jeff. He plopped onto the ground with a goofy grin on his face.
“Oh no you don’t,” the woman said. “We’ve got to get out of here before the fire department comes.”
“Huh?”
She nodded toward the dumpster. Ten-foot tall flames shot out of the metal box, blackening the cinderblock wall behind it. Jeff’s jaw dropped in awe.
“Bring the bag; let’s go.” The woman disappeared again, but this time in a blur as she ran at inhuman speed out of the alley. Jeff stared stupidly after her. She blurred back into the alley and stopped in front of him; her brown hair wind blown and ratted as if she’d been riding in a convertible. “Let’s go, kid.”
The wail of sirens approached.
“Oh, right,” Jeff said and clutched the bag of ice against his stomach, his injured hand still plunged well within.
They moved so fast it was hard to follow the woman. She slowed down and ran just in front of him. Being able to see her clearly while the houses, trees and cars blurred passed made him nauseous. He concentrated so hard on keeping pace with her he didn’t pay attention to where they were going.
At last they came to a stop behind a large warehouse. The woman typed a code onto a keypad next to a heavy metal door. A loud “thunk” echoed through the dark as the lock clicked open. She held the door for Jeff and motioned him through. Jeff hesitated. He had no idea where they were, who this woman was, and no idea who else might be inside the building. Everything was happening too fast. He looked down at the bag of ice his hand was buried in. She seemed to understand what was happening better than he did, though. And she had tried to help.
“Um, maybe I should just go home,” Jeff said.
The woman smiled and chuckled ironically. “Look. You need help. You have no clue what’s happening to
you. We can help.”
Jeff’s eyes widened. There were more people in the building as he suspected. He backed up and turned away. “I don’t think so. It’s late; I gotta get going.”
He headed toward the street light on the corner, hoping he’d recognize where he was by the street names.
“Jeff, you can’t do this on your own.”
He froze and gaped at the woman who still held the door open. “How do you know my name?”
“Let me at least treat the burns before you go. I’ll explain things to you while I fix up your hand, okay?”
Jeff looked up at the nondescript building. He looked around at the other buildings in the area, but nothing gave him a clue as to where they were. His hand throbbed despite the ice glove and the melting ice had soaked the front of his shirt and jeans. Other than her wind-blown hair, nothing about the woman looked other than normal. But he knew she was just as not normal as he was and she knew what it was all about.
“Okay, you can fix my hand and you can tell me what’s going on with me while you do it. And then you’ll let me go home, right?” Jeff asked.
“If you still want to, you can go home.”
“If I still want to?”
“This way, kid.”
Chapter 5
The woman led him down brightly lit hallways. They passed several closed doors and some darkened windows, but no people. It was about 11:00 p.m., so Jeff guessed that the place was probably busier during the day.
They entered a room that looked like an examining room at a doctor’s office.
“Have a seat, kid.” She indicated a long padded table covered with white paper, where a patient could lay down if need be. She walked over to a row of cabinets and pulled out gauze, salve and a spray bottle and set them on the counter nearest Jeff.
“Are you a doctor?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve been a patient enough times to know how to treat this type of wound.” She slid Jeff’s hand out of the bag of ice and set the dripping bag into the sink. “Does it hurt?”
Jeff nodded. “A lot.”
“People call me Pyro.” She misted Jeff’s hand with the solution in the spray bottle and an immediate numbing sensation settled the throbbing.
“I have fire too,” Pyro continued. “They say it’s unusual, but I have a theory.”
“You mean you can do what I did?” Jeff noticed little creases around Pyro’s eyes and mouth. Her small size had led him to believe she was younger. Now that he really looked at her, he guessed she was Mother’s age.
“I can. That’s how I recognized that you were losing control of it. I’m sorry I couldn’t avoid this.” She indicated his glowing red hand. “You’re strong. Even for an S.V.”
He flinched as she rubbed the salve on the hand. The pain was bearable from the numbing spray, but it still smarted when she touched it. “What’s an S.V.?”
Pyro paused and looked Jeff directly in the eyes. “Super villain.”
Jeff snorted.
Pyro’s expression didn’t change.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah right. I’m a super villain.”
Pyro continued to stare as if willing him to believe what she’d just said.
Jeff thought about his inhuman speed, his delinquent behavior and his now improved pyromania. His stomach lurched as the truth hit like a lead weight. “I’m a super villain.”
Pyro nodded, but continued to stare intently.
A sudden burst of anger swelled inside him. “How the hell does that happen? How does someone like me get so lucky?”
Pyro’s expression didn’t change by Jeff’s outburst. She didn’t flinch or back away.
“Wait a minute,” Jeff glared at Pyro as intently, “why were you watching me? How did you know my name? How did you know I have special abilities?”
Jeff looked around the utilitarian room. An uneasiness settled in his stomach. Why was he here with this woman anyway? Pyro looked like a mother waiting for her two-year-old to stop throwing a tantrum and that stoked his anger again. He sucked in a deep breath and jammed his eyes closed. Replaying the events by the dumpster in his head, he remembered the sensation of fire erupting from his fingers. That is not normal. He needed help and Pyro knew how to help him. With a slow deep breath, Jeff filled his lungs and expanded his stomach. He held it for a few calming seconds before letting it out slowly.
Control over his anger was tenuous, but at least he felt he had some. “So, why were you watching me?”
Pyro grabbed the gauze and wrapped Jeff’s hand while she explained that they’d learned about Jeff when he’d set fire to the trash can at the high school.
“Oh, the guy chasing me was an S.V. too, huh? That’s why he was wicked fast and leapt over fences in a single bound.” Jeff winced as she wrapped his tender fingers. He spoke through gnashed teeth. “But how did you find me again? I lost him that day.”
“We all have special abilities. Some of us are trackers. S.V.’s have easy to detect energy sources. Especially untrained S.V.’s. Once a tracker located you, I took over and I’ve been trailing you since.” Pyro finished wrapping and put everything away. “I have a question for you, kid.”
“’Kay,” Jeff answered with caution. He wasn’t sure he’d have any answers.
“How long have you known about your abilities?”
“The only thing I’ve known about, until today, was my speed.” Jeff shrugged. “I guess I’ve always known about that. I don’t use it around other people ’cause they freaked out in the first grade when I zipped across the playground.”
“What do you mean ‘freaked out’?”
“The kids and the teachers treated me like a circus act or an alien after that. I don’t even think the kids remember why they’re afraid of me anymore.” Jeff hung his head and stared at the floor. “I really am different though? After all these years, I find out those kids are right? I am a freak of nature.”
Pyro leaned back against the counter with a far away look on her face. “I didn’t have it that bad because my first ability didn’t show up until freshman year in high school. It was the first signs of my fire and it came in handy. Tim Malone and I were kissing and I heated up more than normal. I didn’t know it, being new at the whole necking thing, but Tim did. He thought it was cool, until I burned him of course. After that no guy would get near me.”
“Um, why do you consider that handy?” Jeff asked.
Pyro looked at him and smiled. “Because it was easy to say goodbye to the place when the time came.”
“What do you mean?”
“Follow me.”
Pyro led Jeff down another series of bright hallways with closed doors. The building seemed a never-ending maze to Jeff and it unnerved him that he wouldn’t be able to find his way to an exit. At last Pyro stopped with her hand on the knob of a door. She turned back toward Jeff and said, “You aren’t alone, kid.”
She swung the door open with a flourish and indicated for Jeff to go inside. He stepped into the doorway and stopped. They were in some sort of gymnasium. Kids ranging from about 12 to 18 years old were hard at work testing their athleticism in a freak show sort of way. A girl did chin-ups at twice the speed of a top Olympian. A boy ran across a high wire. The most beautiful girl Jeff had ever laid eyes on leaned against the wall across the room. Jeff tore his eyes from her when an oddly shaped ball soared over the heads of the kids. Two boys enjoyed a game of catch. At least Jeff thought the sneers on their faces indicated enjoyment. Suddenly a head popped out of the ball.
“Come on, you wimps, get further apart.”
Jeff’s stomach lurched when he realized the ball was a contorted girl.
In the far corner of the gym a couple of kids were involved in extreme wresting. Jeff watched one kid leap six feet off the ground and pile drive the other kid into the thick stack of mats. He thought they’d have a future in WWE if the super villain thing didn’t pan out for them. Jeff’s gaze wandered back to the beautiful redhead. She smiled at him and hi
s stomach fluttered.
Pyro nudged Jeff into the gym and let the door close. “Each S.V. has at least one prominent ability. Most of us are faster and stronger than the average human, but there are a few that are faster or stronger than the average S.V. There are also those of us who have fire as well as those who have ice. You can usually find an S.V. with a complementary ability to yours.” Pyro pointed at a dark haired girl standing in the center of the room.
The girl had a large bucket in front of her. Her face was contorted with concentration, but Jeff couldn’t see anything happening. Then all at once a geyser of water burst toward the ceiling and it fell back down on the assemblage in a misty rain. The girl’s face broke into an exultant smile as the dripping kids groaned and grumbled around her.
“Wow, that’s really hard to do,” Pyro said, “break an element into so many little particles. She’ll have a headache later.”
A nondescript boy, tall and lanky with hair the same sandy color as his skin, approached the girl. He smiled at her as they talked, but the girl stood stiff with a forced smile. All the dripping kids eyed him nervously. A puddle on the floor near the boy gradually receded. The kids’ clothes stiffened as though dried on a clothesline. When everything around him was dry, the sand-colored boy clapped the girl on the back and returned to sit alone, on the bleachers.
“Who’s that?” Jeff asked.
“They call him Desert Storm. Besides his evaporation skills, he can also create a wicked sand storm. When he’s near sand, of course.”
“Why is he all alone?”
“He doesn’t have reliable control over his power yet. If he gets too excited, he’ll drain someone’s body of its moisture and leave a shriveled corpse behind. He’s loads better than when he first got here. We used to have to keep him sequestered and teach him through a loud speaker.” Pyro indicated a girl who stood away from the pandemonium. “Hush, over there, has the ability to shut people up. She seals all orifices at once, rendering those around her not only silent, but blind and unable to breathe as well. Dangerous.”
