by Gwenda Bond
For now.
“Oh, wow, I almost forgot,” I said, pulling back. “I’m still determined to track down Donovan, but I think I found my next story on the way home. I ran into this guy who’s super-fast.”
That straightened him up. “What do you mean, super-fast?”
“Like he ran faster than any normal person should be able to. And actually, he ran into me. He knocked me down on the street.” I leaned back against the stone wall. “And it was on purpose. I saw him last night outside the movie theater too. After he barreled into me he took off, but then he kept slowing down. It seemed like it was so I could follow him. He had some weird armor on his feet and a backpack with a logo on it. I couldn’t make it out, though.”
“Hold up.” SmallvilleGuy blinked at me. “He knocked you down? Are you all right?”
He touched my arm carefully, like he could examine me for injuries even though we weren’t anywhere close to each other.
“Stop worrying, worrier. He just knocked the wind out of me, maybe a bruise or two on my—” I bit my lip before I could say something embarrassing. “Um. My back.”
He reached up and touched my cheek.
“You still showed up to meet me after that?” He sounded surprised. “You didn’t run straight to the Scoop?”
“No. I came here. And it was worth it.” I wondered about something, though. “How fast can a regular person go, anyway?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “About twenty-eight miles per hour—but that’s not regular-person speed. That’s a professional running record. Most people run eight miles per hour or so.”
“Gold star for sports trivia,” I said. “Anyway, you know I plan to go all out to find him.”
He looked back to me. “Of course. But be careful, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
As usual, that was the only promise I could make and have any chance of keeping it.
CHAPTER 3
I chomped down on a bite of chewy bagel, hunching my shoulders to prevent being jostled by the other passengers on the subway train Monday morning. Maddy had woken me with a text first thing, saying she’d reserve our study room in the library so we could huddle before school to talk about this new story I’d happened on. I’d rushed out my front door with my bagel clutched in a napkin.
Determined to be on time, I’d even made a mental note of what she’d set as our next password: Harriet Tubman. Who, Maddy had informed me, held among her many other excellent accomplishments being a female spy during the Civil War. Maddy had developed a minor obsession for lady spies, which I heartily approved of.
I’d gone to see Madwoman again on Saturday and kept my eyes peeled for the boy who’d knocked me down. No sign of him—not yet anyway. I hadn’t slept well all weekend. Every night it took me forever to even close my eyes instead of staring at the ceiling. Imagining SmallvilleGuy coming here and what it would be like to breathe the same air and really look into his eyes was too distracting. What if that chemistry I thought of as “us” didn’t exist in person?
When I finally did sleep, I’d dreamed about running down the stairs in Dabney Donovan’s old lab headquarters, footsteps echoing behind me. I heard the last and only words Donovan ever said to me: “You will never see me again.”
And my most frequent nightmare had reappeared right before I woke, the one where I watched, helpless, as the flying man tumbled from the sky.
The flying man had been my introduction to the concept that there were things in the world that defied explanation. Dad and I had spotted a giant rock tower when we were driving through Kansas late at night, and we’d gotten out to investigate—only to have it collapse.
We’d have died there, crushed by enormous boulders, if the flying man hadn’t saved us. He’d managed to gather the rocks before they could hit, and then disappeared—faster than the boy I’d seen the day before, to be sure, and faster than the supposed limit of human speed. Neither Dad nor I mentioned it again after that night, but it had changed how both of us saw the world.
I’d posted on Strange Skies about it and SmallvilleGuy had sent me a private message assuring me what I’d witnessed was real—though he couldn’t say how he knew or tell me who he was.
Dad, on the other hand, had started a top-secret government search for the man we’d seen.
The train slowed, and I finished off the bagel and balled up my napkin. The sliding doors parted and I stepped off. School was four long blocks from this stop. I paused at a trash can, and a flash of motion snagged my attention.
A male figure darted past me and up the steps fast. Eerily fast, like that boy. His heels flashed with silver, just like his armor. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder again, too.
“Wait!” I called out, rushing between people to go after him.
His head ducked back in at the top of the stairwell. Floppy brown hair, hollow cheeks. Yep, it was him again.
He shot me a mocking grin. “How about you catch up instead?” he asked, and then was gone again.
People on the stairs frowned and grumbled, but got out of my way as I pounded up the steps. When I got to the sidewalk, he was fifty feet up the busy block, standing in wait. He waved at me with that same mocking grin.
This guy was not endearing himself to me.
I shouldered my messenger bag across my chest and launched into motion. I ran as hard as I could, weaving through the crowd. He stayed right where he was, a still point as I approached…
I was almost there, would reach him in moments. He hadn’t moved. I considered slowing before I collided with him. Three more strides to go—and then he took off.
“Can’t catch me,” he called.
“What are you, the freaking gingerbread man?” I muttered, panting and surging forward again, with no hope of keeping up.
I was no expert, but he was definitely outpacing the average person’s speed when he burst into movement. I couldn’t be sure about whether he was faster than the upper end of the range. Because he was toying with me. He’d erupt into speed and put on a serious lead, then slow down again. He was letting me keep up with him. Just as he had the day before, right up until he’d decided to lose me.
Wait, I thought, my boots slapping the pavement hard as I slowed. He was leading me somewhere. Should I go along with that? I’d promised SmallvilleGuy I’d try for caution. My friends at the Scoop didn’t know about this guy yet. Which meant no one would figure out for a while where I’d disappeared to, should I disappear.
But I didn’t have to risk anything to keep going. I knew right where we were. School was just around the next corner.
“You’re losing me,” his sing-song voice called. It came from closer than I expected.
He’d run back to me, and stopped a few feet away. His backpack was still slung over a single shoulder. I lunged and grabbed the free strap at the same moment that he started to run again.
“Get off,” he said.
“I’d rather not.” I tightened my grip.
He grimaced and lunged away. His momentum went one way, mine the other—and I managed to pull his backpack off.
“Give that back,” he said over his shoulder. He was moving slower now. Much slower. Slow enough for me to keep up.
“I don’t think I feel like it,” I said.
School came into view as I clutched the backpack and pursued him. It had to be after first bell by now—so much for not being late—but the sidewalk wasn’t empty.
Then I saw something that made my breath catch.
Maddy, James, and Devin were out front. Maddy was on the ground, James helping her up. Devin was climbing to his feet, having been downed too apparently, and seemed to be asking a question of the three unfamiliar people standing across from them, two girls and a guy. Devin assumed a defensive crouch, his fists up.
One girl wore silver gloves that reminded
me of speedy boy’s armor. A second girl had some sort of silvery mask around her eyes, molded to her face like a second skin. The boy had… spiky silver wings extending from his shoulder blades. They were all too thin, just like the boy who’d come after me.
I might not have recognized them, but I knew trouble when I spotted it. Whatever was going on here, well, it was trouble and then some.
“You want this back?” I asked the boy, speeding toward my friends. “You tell me what this is about. Who are you? What are you up to?”
We reached the others.
“Lois!” Maddy said and held out a hand to me.
I stopped just in front of her, a friend and a shield, and held the boy’s backpack up high. The vantage finally gave me a better look at the logo on it.
The art style was interestingly detailed. The elements of the logo for Donovan’s lab—which was called Ismenios after the dragon that fought Cadmus—were present, the dragon and warrior facing off against each other. There was no name and the illustration style was different, but that didn’t matter.
The logo was enough to send me to an immediate conclusion. This must have something to do with mad scientist creep Dabney Donovan.
Good. I’ve been looking for you.
“Give that back,” the silver-footed boy said, joining his trio of friends.
“Not likely,” I said, unzipping the backpack with my free hand. It was remarkably light. “Wonder what’s in here.”
The girl with the silver armor molded over her hands stepped in front of speedy boy protectively, and then came toward me. She was average height, curly brown hair. She could have been pictured next to ordinary in the dictionary—if not for her armored mitts. I’d never seen anything like that metal… if it was metal.
James appeared at my side. “Look out. She’s strong.”
“She can’t be that strong.” There were no bulging biceps to be seen beneath her loose, faded T-shirt when her hand came up to grab the backpack.
“What are you—” I started.
She lifted the backpack, and with it, my feet off the ground. I grappled inside the black canvas and came out with a folder. Remarkably Donovan-like. I’d seen plenty of folders like this—plain, manila folders—in the filing cabinets at his old office.
The girl plucked the backpack away from me, and James and Maddy caught me before I fell.
“Okay, maybe she is,” I said, disconcerted. “Deceiving looks, et cetera. I think it’s the armor.”
Maddy said, “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live.” I waved them off with my prize, the folder I’d liberated.
The crazy strong girl tossed the backpack to speedy, who pulled it back on. He used both straps this time.
But he didn’t ask for the folder back. And none of the others seemed inclined to try to take it. From what I could tell, it had been the only thing inside too.
Interesting.
A boy who could run faster than he should be able to. A girl who was stronger than seemed possible. I narrowed my eyes at the remaining two teens, a dark-skinned girl with a silver eye-mask and street clothes and a boy with weird spikes jutting up from his shoulders.
They all had that same lean, hungry vibe about them as the first guy. Their clothes were frayed at the edges.
Yet they all had some kind of high-tech armor on, too, which seemingly gave them their abilities. And they had some sort of connection to Donovan. I felt not only like the universe was giving me a gift, but that it was exactly the gift I’d been waiting for.
Might as well be up front about things. “Who are you and what do you want with us? Donovan sent you,” I said. “Why?”
The girl with the gloves spoke up. “It’s not about who we are or what we want. You made enemies, Lois Lane.”
I glanced at my friends. “Yeah, we know. Dabney Donovan. Where is he? He’s not someone you want to mess around with. No matter what he’s told you.”
The girl frowned, and I’d swear there was a confused cast to her squint.
“I don’t know what you think,” the strong girl said. “Or care. We love our parents.”
What?
“I love mine too,” I said, “but that’s a weird thing to say right now.”
The girl spoke again. “They rescued us. They made us powerful.”
“They who?” I asked. Was Donovan working with someone else again, another patron like Boss Moxie? “If Donovan’s involved, it won’t last. Whatever it is he did to you, there will be consequences, side effects to that gear you’re wearing. There always are when Donovan’s involved.”
“Trust us on that,” Maddy added.
Speedy boy laughed then. “Sounds like you’ve got more enemies than you know, and no clue what you’re talking about. We don’t know any Donovan, we’re here because we’re Typhon.”
That was a surprise.
Such a surprise, I didn’t believe him, though I made a mental note of the word.
“Yeah, right.” I tightened my grip on the folder. I hoped it had something in it besides his homework.
The door to the school opened, and the four of them looked at each other. “Bye now,” the boy said. “We’ll be seeing you soon.”
The boy with the spiky wings embraced the strong girl. I gaped as the silver appendages on his shoulders pumped and he flew away with her. The other two ran, disappearing quickly around the corner.
I hesitated. Go after them or not?
And then I heard the worst possible voice to hear at a time like this… or at any time, frankly.
“Why, if it isn’t my favorite reporting staff,” Principal Butler said. “You’re all late to school. And Ms. Lane, I do believe this is enough accumulated tardies to send you back to detention. Maybe you can convince me to overlook it, if you can explain what you’re all doing out here.”
I shuddered at the thought. Detention was as boring as boring got. Worse, it would get Dad on my back again. Plus, the Scoopers and I had a lot of business to discuss now. Serious business.
I tucked the folder into my messenger bag to keep Butler from getting his hands on it.
He walked down the steps to join us on the sidewalk. The fabric of his suit picked up a silver glint in the sunlight. Combined with his hair, he was peak Principal Shark today. He smiled, coolly, baring his sharky teeth.
Maddy rubbed her arm. “I, um, I got knocked down,” she said, speaking up. Her T-shirt today was for Riot Patrol. “Some guy and his friends attacked me. These three were just helping me.”
“Yeah,” Devin chimed in. “I saw the whole thing.”
“Me too,” James said. “Some random kids—I don’t think they go to school here.”
“No, I don’t think they do either,” I said. Maybe Butler could be useful in some way. “You’d better alert security to be on the lookout for them. They might try to sneak in.”
“Are you working on a new story?” Principal Butler asked, sounding eager and interested.
“We’re always working on a story,” I said.
This answer seemed to offend him. His lips pursed. “I presume this isn’t a game, Ms. Lane. James, at least, is trustworthy.”
I gave an affronted gasp. “You wound me.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Maddy rolled hers, but only I could see that. Her face was still pale.
What had happened before I got here? I’d be dying until I could find out.
Also, dying to figure out what Dabney Donovan was doing that had given those teens powers with that silvery armor—and why they didn’t respond to his name. Why would they risk being seen out in the open this way? Risk challenging us directly? Why had they let me keep the folder?
“Can we have a second to talk in private?” I asked. We were on moderately improved terms with Butler—no more Monday meetings for me—but this was a long shot on my pa
rt.
Butler’s lips curled into an indulgent smile. “Of course. After school’s out,” he said, “you can have as many as you want.”
So no collective confab, then. He waved toward the steps and the entry doors. “If no one needs to visit the nurse, then you’d best get on to class.”
There was no getting around it. We nodded and marched to his orders. He’d let me off without detention, so I knew better than to argue. I made like a good little soldier.
As soon as I could slip my phone from my bag, I sent a text to Maddy, James, and Devin.
Let’s regroup at the Scoop offices after school. We should ride over together in case they come back.
They surreptitiously checked their phones, and Maddy gave me a thumbs-up.
*
I wasn’t able to examine the contents of the folder until third period. Even then I had to conceal it within the pages of my notebook to avoid getting busted. I wanted to begin formulating a plan before my friends and I met up after school.
My gut told me that guy’s wings were a new kind of flying mechanism, which wasn’t so hard to believe given the various powers the others had. I hadn’t seen any wings in Kansas, but then I hadn’t seen much of my flying man at all. Still, I felt certain this was something else, something different.
I didn’t know what to expect in the folder, but it certainly wasn’t what I found.
The two items on top were hard copy clippings, neatly scissored out of the newspaper. They were my own stories that had run in the Daily Planet. A select compendium. And my name in the bylines was underlined in black marker.
The first major story I’d done, on Advanced Research Labs, Inc. CEO Steve “Dirtbag” Jenkins and his research experiment on the Warheads. Then the story about James’s ex-mayor dad, the then-current mayor, and Boss Moxie.
I hadn’t been able to write about Donovan’s role in framing James’s dad by making a clone of him, because it would have put Maddy’s sister in danger. She’d been used in the cloning experiment, linked up with the double, who was now voluntarily in jail and who everyone else thought was James’s dad’s secret twin.
