Open Your Eyes (Book 4): Broken City

by H. J. Rethuan

  Broken City

  [Open Your Eyes 4]

  by

  H.J. Rethuan

  “Broken City”

  Copyright © 2016 Herman Rethuan

  All rights are reserved to the author. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Herman Rethuan.

  Dedication

  Again, to my folks.

  Contents

  Zero

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  About The Author

  Zero

  The rumble slowly stirs Jean awake from his coma, the vibrations shaking him into consciousness as he lay in his hospital bed.

  The young man opens his eyes, the sound of the chaos outside gradually seeping into his ear canals. The daylight streaming through the window hurting his eyes, immediately he shuts them again. Too bright...

  He could hear the sound of a door being opened, a nurse coming into his room. Another. “He’s awake!” one shouts in surprise as they approach his cot.

  “Where am I?” he mumbles. “What’s going on?”

  He tries to open his eyes again. Still too bright.

  “It’s okay Jean.” one of the nurses tells him. “We’ve got to get you out of here. We’re evacuating the hospital...”

  “The hospital?” Jean mutters as the sound of a loud explosion rocks the building. He opens his eyes once more and tries to sit up. As he looks down his gown-covered body, it takes him a second to process the sight of two bandaged stumps where his lower legs should be.

  “What the fuck...” he mumbles, confused, panicking. “What happened to me?”

  “Calm down Jean.” says one of the nurses as the other rolls in a wheelchair.

  “What fucking happened to me!?” he shouts as the nurse sticks the syringe into his neck, the sedative quickly knocking him out cold. Lifting Jean up and into the wheelchair, they quickly leave the ward and join the mass evacuation outside as Jahannam continues his attack on Port City only a few blocks away.

  One

  Farrah had decided to accompany her mother to the local Middle-Eastern grocer. The elder woman was adamant to get an ingredient for her stew; it just won’t be the same without it she protested to her daughter.

  Farrah had to follow her mother. It would be for her own safety.

  As she waited for her at the door, the young woman ditched the headscarf she wore, placing it folded on a table by the front entrance. Tingling with guilt, she turned to see her mother approach. She still wore hers proudly.

  “Ready to go?” she asks her.

  Her mother nods. Farrah smiles.

  Despite the brave face, she couldn’t completely hide the unease in her eyes.

  It was on their way home, the two men catching them as Farrah and her mother took the familiar shortcut down that little alley way. They came for them, the two skinheads. Saw them, stalked them as they drove by before.

  Farrah had seen them around the street before, even before the events of that day. They liked to harass people like Farrah and her mother; ethnic immigrants, Middle-Easterners, Muslims. Those who they saw as terrorists in their eyes. It was like it was their hobby, a crass form of entertainment to them. She herself had been personally harassed by them before, even though she was born here, her voice as American as theirs.

  Still, they didn’t care, and now it was worse.

  With the current mood, this time the men felt they could act without impunity. They were coming here every day now, making this neighbourhood their own little playground.

  If only someone could stop them.

  “Hey, if you want to live here you take that thing off.” one barked at Farah’s mother, the smell of alcohol on his breath obvious.

  “This is free country, I have to right to wear it!” she answered back, defiant.

  “I said, take it off.” the man continued as the two corner Farrah and her mother against a wall. Above their heads Farrah hears a window being shut.

  She doesn’t expect help to come.

  “No, I have a right to wear it.” Farah’s mother calmly replies.

  “Mom, just...” Farah mumbled meekly.

  “Just what?” she replies, annoyed at her own daughter. ”I’m not taking it off for some racist.”

  One of the men chuckles before lunging at Farrah’s mother.

  “Come here!” he teases as he tries to take her headscarf off. “Give me it!”

  The other skinhead laughs as Farrah’s mother tries to fight him off, her daughter frozen, not knowing what to do. Her mother pushes her attacker back with a mighty shove; it does little. He retaliates by shoving her back in return, pushing her violently to the ground.

  “Mom!” Farrah shouts as the two skinheads laugh as the bright flash of light envelopes one of them.

  Reappearing down the alley, Seth reappears in another flash of light, tossing the skinhead hard to the ground.

  The second skinhead takes the opportunity to run, unwilling to face up to Seth. The first however, still remains defiant as he picks himself off the concrete.

  He laughs at Seth.

  “You protecting them?” he asks of The Blink. “He was one of them!”

  “These people didn’t do anything.” Seth tells him.

  “So what? Jahannam. Arab name, Arabs to blame. They should be put in their place.”

  “Get out of here.” Seth orders the skinhead. “And never come back. Your friend too.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll put you someplace you don’t want to go.”

  Smirking, the skinhead laughs before he turns and runs off.

  Seth turns to Farrah and her mother. “You’re safe now.” he tells them.

  The old woman spits on him.

  “You brought this on to us.” she scowls.

  Seth is rattled, unable to form a reply.

  “They blame us, but it was you. Jahannam wanted you.” she tells Seth, turning his back on him. Walking away, Farrah goes after her mother.

  “I’m sorry,” she quietly apologises to Seth. “Thank you.”

  Left standing there, Seth keeps an eye them, making sure they leave the alley safely.

  The euphoria of winning the battle did not last for long for the three heroes. What was left for them in Jahannam’s destructive wake was a broken city.

  Its people were left broken too.

  After the sing-a-longs and massive rallies, the vigils and the gatherings against fear and terror, the tributes to the everyday heroes and the funerals what was left was still a city, a city not of hope and solidarity but now of tension and hate and distrust against those perceived to be responsible. If it was not this group it was another group, if it was not them then it was the heroes – and Seth was now feeling the weight of it.

  “She spit on me.”

  Seth sat at the kitchen table, across from his sister Emma and their housemate and partner in heroism Lily. He felt dejected; the things that old woman said to him still muddled over in his mind.

  She was right. They did have a role in this.

  “You know it’s not your fault.”
Emma tells him. “You know it was Salt who had brought Jahannam here in the first place.”

  Yes, before he broke loose Agent Salt had captured the monster and transferred him to the Toy Box’s secret lab in Port City. Not a very smart decision in hindsight, but they didn’t know his desire for carnage, his lust for destruction of the city.

  “Still the public don’t know that.” Seth tells her. “They saw him chasing us.”

  “Last night I stopped a gang from tearing up a restaurant downtown.” Lily speaks up. “The owners of the place told me to get lost. They said I ruined their city. I didn’t know what to say to them. I saved their business for fucks sake!”

  “They’ve turned on us.” Emma mumbles.

  “I think...” Seth begins. “I think we should go away for a while”

  “So after all we’ve done we’re quitting?” Lily asks him.

  “No. We’re not quitting. We’re just taking a break. The city doesn’t want us. They don’t want to see us. Not now, anyway.”

  “So what do we do now?” Emma asks.

  “We can help in other ways. Without the hoods.”

  “So we’re still quitting?” Lily speaks up again.

  “No, we can help this city but just as us. As Seth. As Emma. As Lily.”

  Lily shakes her head.

  “This is bullshit. Who made you the boss?”

  “Lily, we can’t help if people don’t want our help...”

  “Seth, we have been given these abilities. The city is still a mess out there. We need to be out there.”

  “They don’t want us.”

  Lily throws up her arms.

  “You’re just scared!” she barks at him. “Fuck!”

  Standing up, she leaves the table and the room in frustration.

  “Lily!” Seth calls out to her. She ignores him.

  “Huh, so I guess superhero fatigue really is a thing.” Emma says to him.

  Seth nods.

  “Yeah.”

  Two

  The rebuilding effort would take months, if not years. A huge swath of the city had been levelled by Jahannam’s attack and an army of workers would be needed to return Port City to its former glory.

  Feeling he could still help beyond being his superhero alter-ego, Seth eagerly volunteered.

  He was assigned as a labourer to the 221 Building, an office building that, while structurally sound, had still suffered heavy damage in the chaos. Its floors were wrecked, its windows blown out leaving it wide open to the elements. The upper floors needed the most work.

  Fortunately, Seth was comfortable with heights.

  The four men slowly made their way up the stairs carrying their heavy tool bags. It was a tough hike; the dimly lit, tight stairwell making the trek even more difficult.

  “Hey, wouldn’t this be a lot easier if The Blink was around?” one jokes to his colleagues.

  “I’d punch that asshole in the face if I ever see him.” another, older man grimly answers.

  “Not a fan Jake?” Seth asks him, jokingly.

  “He did this, you know that?” Jake replies sternly.

  “No, no I didn’t.” Seth responds. “No, I didn’t.”

  On the other side of the central business district, the art store had survived the destruction.

  Emma had gone back to her day job doing graphic design, volunteering her services for organisations and businesses hoping to rebuild. She had just completed a few flyers for a co-op supermarket not far from here. They needed help to stay open; every little bit counts.

  As Emma gathered up a bundle of expensive Copic markers, she passed by a small memorial set up in the middle of the store dedicated to the loss of one of their employees who had died during Jahannam’s rampage.

  A young woman like herself, she had been taken too early in life.

  Engrossed in a collage of photos of the young woman taken in happier times, Emma didn’t notice the man now watching her, a handsome man, a familiar man. The man who once betrayed her.

  “Emma.”

  She turns towards the voice. Pete, her ex-boyfriend. She is not pleased to see him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks him.

  “I just want to talk to you Emma.”

  “About what? We’re over Pete. It’s been months. I’ve already moved on...”

  “Emma, I made a mistake.” he admits to her. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’ve been thinking and I really liked the life we had. I want to go back to it.”

  “You said our life together was boring. You said you wanted more, and that didn’t include me.”

  “I was wrong. Terribly wrong. I need you Emma.”

  “What about that woman you left me for?”

  “She, she was a mistake. She’s long gone. Forgive me Emma, I was wrong.”

  Seemingly had enough, Emma leaves Pete and takes her markers to the cashier. He follows.

  “Is that hat you wanted to hear? That I was wrong?”

  She doesn’t reply.

  “Is it? Forgive me Emma...”

  “It’s too late Pete.” she says softly.

  “No, it’s not too late!” he retorts, raising his voice. “I’m here, in front of you with my heart on my sleeve! We can start again, fresh...”

  She continues to ignore him.

  “Just listen to me Emma. Listen to me!”

  Uncomfortable, the female cashier leaves Emma alone as she continues to ignore Pete. Frustrated, he throws up his hands.

  “Okay, so that’s how it goes. You don’t deserve anyone else to love you like I did.”

  He marches out the art store, slamming the door shut on his way out.

  Emma takes a long, deep breath as the cashier returns and calmly rings up items like nothing happened.

  “That’s a hundred and fifty-seven ninety please.” she says to her.

  The bar was not too far away from the construction site. Before it would have been filled with office workers; now it was patronised by labourers and tradesmen finished with the day’s shift. Amidst this loud bunch, Seth leaned in closer as he tried to listen to his new friend’s life story over the commotion.

  “I’ve been doing this for over twenty years.” Jake tells Seth. “I’ve never seen a construction boom as big as what is going on now. Of course, we never had some kind of superpowered monster taking out half the damn city before.”

  He takes a swig of his beer. Seth takes a drink too.

  “So Jake, back in the stairwell. Why do you hate The Blink so much?”

  “It’s not just The Blink. All the heroes.” he tells him.

  “Wow, all of them. Why?”

  “These heroes with powers,” Jake begins, “They think they’re better than us. Better than the police, better than the firefighters. It’s just arrogant.”

  “I think they’re just trying to help.”

  Jake laughs at that suggestion.

  “Well, as you can see they made things a lot worse. They fought that monster out on the streets, and now we have to clean up the pieces.”

  “It wasn’t really their fault.”

  “Yeah, well I see it like the Joker and Batman. The Joker would never exist without Batman being around. Now who else is going to rock up to our doorstep and fuck over this city because of them?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be so well versed in superheroes.”

  “Oh I like superheroes, but only when they’re fictional.”

  Again the wind whipped up at the building site. It had been an ongoing problem, with the surrounds creating a wind tunnel like effect that often built up powerful wind gusts that made working on the building dangerous.

  The horn blared as the chief foreman came over the PA system. “Tools down!” he announced as the site immediately shut down due to the winds.

  There would be no more work today.

  As Seth came down with the other workers he couldn’t help but notice the heated discussion being held amongst the foremen and a few suits at the foot of the buil
ding. There behind them stood two massive air conditioning units, ready to be lifted up and installed on the roof of the building. With the site cleared there would be no more work today, resulting in further delays and budget overruns. The suits were not happy about that.

  If only there was some other way to get them up there...

  Sneaking in at the dead of night, Seth quietly approached the air conditioning units where they still remain, unmoved. Placing his hand upon one, he shuts his eyes as he Blinks himself and the whole unit up onto the roof. Teleporting back down, he repeats the process before disappearing back home with a smile on his face.

  Upon returning to work the next day, Seth can’t help but listen in to the foremen again meeting at the foot of the building, this time baffled by what he had secretly accomplished.

  “What do you mean they’re already on the roof?” one says to the other as Seth heads upstairs, a sly, satisfied smile on his face.

  He didn’t need a hood to do this.

  Maybe, he thought, The Blink doesn’t even need to come back.

  Three

  For Jean, soon the memories of the night came flooding back, the night when he lost his legs.

  He was finishing up work at the pizza shop. He’s had the job for a few weeks now, a stroke of luck getting it in the first place considering his circumstances. He got on well with his boss, his co-workers. It was hard work but things were looking up for him.

  Alone, he was left cleaning up the store after a busy shift. His manager had to leave early for personal reasons, and he had to wait for the security guard to come before he could lock up.

  He was running late.

  As he waited in the kitchen the bright light appeared to pour out from the freezer, spilling out and illuminating the whole room. It took Jean by surprise at it seemed to envelope him, pull at him. He felt queasy, nauseous as the fear and panic set in. He had to run.

  He bolted out into the street. The driver of the car did not see him coming as his legs smashed into the vehicle’s front bumper, crushing his bones. The momentum carried him over the hood, as his skull smashed into the front windscreen.