Small Town Superhero Box Set: Complete Series

by Cheree Alsop

  “Someone lit a bonfire. It was under control in an old metal garbage bin, but then a drunk idiot decided to throw his unopened beer in the fire. Someone else panicked and tried to get it out before it exploded. He tipped the bin and fire ran all over the alcohol-soaked floor.”

  It moved like snakes in a dozen different directions, trailing streamers of red, orange, and yellow that ate into the worn wood. The laughter of the boys and girls turned to screams when they realized what was happening. They scattered like mice surprised by a cat.

  I could only stare. It was a nightmare, shadows racing along the walls, the scent of alcohol and the still-thumping beat from the car that burned in the middle of the warehouse. It was a disaster, and I had started it.

  “Kelson!”

  My muscles twitched and Madelyn held me closer. I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt her brush the tears gently from my cheek. “Zoey called my name.” I choked. Smoke hung heavy in the air, clawing down my throat, threatening to consume me the way the fire ate at my clothes and skin. “I couldn’t find her.” The tears wouldn’t stop. “She was upstairs, but the stairs were gone. A beam fell from the ceiling and landed on me, crushing me to the floor. My head was hit and the fire was burning all around me. I was disoriented and couldn’t move.”

  I remembered the wail of the fire engine sirens when the trucks pulled up outside the warehouse. Firemen burst through the sliding doors. One of them grabbed the beam, then two and three. When they lifted the burning beam off me, I wouldn’t let them hold me down. I had to get to Zoey. She was calling my name over and over. The firemen pinned my arms behind my back. I fought them off. I was tackled to the floor. I couldn’t breathe. The smoke was too thick.

  “They dragged me away,” I said, sobbing. “I tried to find her, but they wouldn’t let me go.” My back ached where the beam had fallen on it and burned the skin. They had cut off my clothes in the ambulance. There was little more than black tatters left of my favorite 49ers shirt, the one Zoey gave me for my birthday.

  “She kept calling my name, and then her voice just stopped and all I could hear was the sound of the roof collapsing.” I covered my ears, but it did little to shut out the groan of timbers and the pop of flames as they ate through the thick wood. When they collapsed, sparks and flaming embers flew through the air like miniature shooting stars. In the middle of shock, I wished on the stars that Zoey would be safe, that she would fly out of the warehouse and land safely next to the ambulance. She would tell me the party had been a bad idea.

  “How long were you in the hospital?” Madelyn asked quietly.

  “A week for minor burns, smoke inhalation, and the blow to the head from the beam. The burns hurt, but it didn’t feel like enough.” I looked at her. “I wanted to hurt more, for my bones to burn and my skin to be as charred and wretched as I felt. Those who looked at me saw the one who let Zoey and Jeff die. I know my mom did.”

  It was in her eyes every time she looked at me. She stopped visiting the hospital, and I took a taxi home the day I was released. A few days later, she called her sister Lauren.

  “So Sparrow is your second chance.”

  I stared at Madelyn. “There are no second chances for what I did.” I rubbed the tears from my eyes. “There is no forgiveness and no making it better. I’m a lost cause; no miracles will set me free because they died.” My voice rose and I clenched my fists. “They died and I lived. I should have been the one who died.”

  Silence filled the shadows beneath the trees. After a few minutes, Madelyn took one of my clenched fists in her hands. She rubbed my sore knuckles and tight fingers, easing the fury that ached in my chest by providing the one thing I didn’t deserve. Love.

  I buried my face in her hair. She leaned against me and held my hand. “I don’t know why you care about me,” I whispered. My voice broke with heartache.

  “I could say the same thing about you,” she replied with her own tremor of sorrow.

  I put my arms around her and hugged her as tightly as I dared. “You are the only spark of light in my life. I don’t deserve anything as wonderful as you.”

  She sniffed and spoke through her own tears. “I’d say you must be crazy to think such things, but after hearing your story, I know why a person like me, so bleak and without anything to offer, could attract someone like you.”

  “You mean someone without a future or hope of redemption?”

  She gave me a watery smile. “I mean someone who stole my heart and who gives me something to live for when I feel ready to give up. These nights with you have added a new dimension to my life, something bright and exciting, something I didn’t know I could feel anymore.” Her voice cracked and she fell silent.

  I held her in my arms, both of us broken in our own way. Her pain was deep and fathomless, caused by someone who had stolen her innocence and left a shell where her soul had been. I was a raw, gaping, self-inflicted wound, festering and angry but unable to heal. We needed each other. Even when we didn’t speak or probe into the hurt, we needed another heart that beat with the same echo of confusion about a world where terrible things happened, where boogeymen existed and fires devoured loved ones.

  Holding her in my arms, I could remember that kindness existed, that there was someone to love and live for after my world had been taken away. Madelyn gave me hope, and I loved her for it. Her arms tightened around me and she put her head against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. I smoothed her hair, and something like a prayer of gratitude rose from my soul.

  I wasn’t the type to pray. I hadn’t been even before the accident, but afterward there was no point and no hope. I gave myself up as lost when I woke up in the hospital and knew that Zoey was gone. Yet here, with Madelyn’s trust and her soul shining through her gaze, a flicker of faith was restored like a healing balm. If she could survive what she had gone through and continue to be the wonderful, amazing person I knew, perhaps I could make something of myself as well. Maybe I could make a difference.

  THE ASHBYS WENT TO church Sunday morning. I politely declined when they asked if I wanted to join them, and they didn’t question or press me. I appreciated their consideration. I cleaned up what was left of breakfast and drove the four-wheeler to Jagger’s with some leftovers.

  He accepted the breakfast with zeal. “Been a while since I’ve ate someone else’s cookin’,” he said with his mouth full of over-easy eggs, bacon, and French toast.

  “Aunt Lauren’s a great cook.”

  “Excellent,” he agreed.

  He motioned for me to take a seat at his small plastic table. Mick hadn’t approved of my entrance into the shack, and he doubly didn’t approve when I took the proffered seat. His yapping filled the room until Jagger sent him to the bed. Then the little dog sat with his head on his paws and glared at me. I was grateful dogs didn’t possess the power of Darth Vader or I would be dead.

  “Had a thought,” Jagger said around another bite.

  “About what?” I asked.

  He washed down the mouthful with a swig of beer. “Well, I was at the football game t’other day, ‘member?”

  I nodded. Something about his tone made me wary.

  “I was recallin’ the fight with Magnum. Ya know the one I’m referrin’ to.” At my nod, he gave me a look that was suddenly sharp and clear, the gaze of a hawk at the sight of a careless mouse. “Whoever wore that mascot outfit ‘ad a limp.”

  A fist tightened around my heart. I dropped my eyes from his shrewd gaze and studied a brown stain on the plastic tabletop. I tried for a casual response. “Yeah? What of it?”

  “I also heard the Bullets were attacked a’ Joe’s store ta other night by a kid in a black outfit on a black bike. Know anyone fittin’ that ‘scription?”

  He had me and we both knew it. I dropped the pretense. “If you want the bike back, you can have it. I’m just tired of that gang walking all over this town like they own it.”

  “They do own it,” Jagger replied. “They ‘ave a hand i
n every pocket and a tie in everythin’ that happens ‘ere. They hold all the power and they know it.”

  The frustration I had been fighting filled me. “Then how do I beat them?”

  Jagger gave me a wry smile. “Not wi’ padded paws and humiliation. That’ll make ya a target quick.”

  “Maybe that’s the goal.”

  Jagger lifted a shaggy eyebrow. “If they’re lookin’ for you, they’ll leave everyone else alone?”

  “Something like that.”

  Jagger reached down and pulled a package from beneath the table.

  “Open it.”

  “What is it?” I asked warily, eyeing the brown paper bag.

  Jagger rolled his eyes. “Jus’ open it.”

  I did as I was told and pulled a black vest from the bag. It took me a moment realize what it was. “A bulletproof vest?”

  “A ballistic vest, made out a Kevlar and thin enough ta fit b’neath that black outfit you wear.” He gave me a serious look. “If you’re insistin’ on stirrin’ up the Bullets, you’re gonna find yourself at the wrong end of a knife or gun sooner rather than later. I won’t say a word to your aunt ‘n uncle if’n you promise to wear that vest every time ya go after that gang.”

  “Where did you get this?” I watched him closely, sure I had missed something about his history that had to do with the CIA or Mafia or something.

  He merely shrugged. “It’s amazin’ what you can get now a’days off the Internet.”

  “You don’t have the Internet,” I stated with a quick look around the pre-wireless-era shack.

  He grinned, showing his crooked teeth. “Nope, but Sally do at the bar, an’ she show me how ta’ order.”

  I laughed. “You’re sweet on Sally.”

  Shock lit his face like a Christmas tree. “Sally looks like ta’ hind end of a horse got mixed up wi’ a rabid cougar.”

  I shrugged. “Sounds like love to me.”

  A very faint blush colored his cheeks. “Shut it, son, and promise me you’ll wear et.”

  “I promise,” I replied.

  He set something else on the table, a black backpack that looked sleek and well made. “You’ll be wantin’ somethin’ to carry it in.”

  I set the vest in the backpack and zipped it up. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say nothin’ and start bringin’ me more of your aunt’s cookin’,” Jagger replied.

  I grinned. “It’s a deal.”

  MADELYN SAT NEXT TO me on the bus the next morning and her hand slipped into mine. I smiled and was about to tease her about such an outward show of affection when Sandy flew onto the bus and dove into Cassidy’s seat, waving her cell phone. “Look at this!” she demanded loudly. They were five seats up from us and though I couldn’t see what she was showing Cassidy, my curiosity was piqued.

  “What do you suppose they’re so excited about?” I asked Madelyn.

  “Probably the guy who attacked the Bullets at the Homecoming game,” Madelyn replied.

  My heart stuttered and I stared at her. “What?”

  “It was all over the school newsletter. Don’t the Ashbys have the Internet?”

  I shook my head with a long-suffering sigh. “Uncle Rick says it’s a fad.”

  She smiled. “Well, Martin Carrison writes the school bulletin and he posted pictures of the mascot beating up the Bullets at the game, and also of a man dressed in black taking them all on at Joe’s Country Store. Apparently he thinks the two are linked. He’s calling the man the Black Rider.”

  “Not very original,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

  She shook her head. “He needs to watch more superhero movies. Tell him that when you see him next.”

  Alarmed, I asked, “Why would I see him?”

  She watched me like she knew something was wrong, but couldn’t figure it out. “Because he’s taking pictures for the yearbook today. Everyone will see him.”

  “Oh, right.” I tried to change the subject, but it stuck in my mind. “If this Black Rider fought at the store, how do you suppose Martin got a picture of it?”

  “He’s Joe’s grandson. Apparently there was a security camera, and his grandpa gave him access to the footage.”

  I sat back in the seat. “That makes sense.” I couldn’t decide how I felt. My goal was to take the Bullets down a notch or two, not become the city vigilante.

  At school, rumors were flying. Everyone was talking about the Black Rider. The only time voices lowered was when Magnum or any of the other Bullets were around. Even the teachers mentioned it in class. It seemed everyone agreed something had to be done about the Bullets, but no one knew where to start.

  “This Black Rider has it made,” a boy with blue dreadlocks said in chemistry class. “He can take them on and they can’t retaliate against his family.”

  “But if he’s found out, anyone he knows will be in trouble,” a girl from the seat behind me replied.

  “Maybe he’s done—maybe he won’t try to stop them again,” a mousy boy with big ears answered from the front row.

  “What good would that do?” Dreadlocks demanded. “He’s got to finish what he started.”

  “Maybe he’s not here anymore. He could have been just passing through Sparrow,” Melissa retorted.

  That shut them up, but I heard Dreadlocks whisper, “I hope not.”

  “YA GOING OUT RIDIN’ tonight?” Jagger asked when I finished piling bumpers near the entrance.

  “Not sure,” I replied. I pulled off the tattered gloves and cross the lot to his shack.

  He followed me. “Ya probably should.”

  I studied him. “You know something I don’t?”

  He nodded and a faint touch of red colored his cheeks. “I been to Sally’s for lunch and she said there’s talk of a party tonight.”

  “Cass never mentioned anything.”

  He shrugged. “Sally’s gal Trista is a cheerleader. She’d be knowin’.”

  If Cassidy was planning to go, there must be a reason she hadn’t told me. Perhaps since I was on Magnum’s bad side, it was safer for them not to have me along. I was a target for his bullying, and that made them targets as well. I needed to make sure Cassidy and her friends were safe.

  I nodded. “Guess I’ll be riding.”

  Jagger took the gloves, then paused on his porch. “Watch out for ta’ sheriff.”

  I gave him a steady look. “Why should I be worried about the sheriff?”

  He gave a nonchalant shrug. “He was askin’ ‘round here about the motorcycle. Seems he recognized it from Joe’s security camera.”

  “There are thousands of bikes like this.”

  A slight frown formed between Jagger’s eyebrows as he tried to look completely innocent, but failed entirely.

  “What?” I asked, weary of his game. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

  Jagger nodded, looking slightly abashed. He stared at the floor. “That bike ‘as a custom exhaust that don’t come stock. I forgot ta mention it; ‘parently the sheriff din’t forget.”

  “Great.” I walked back to the tire pile where I had hidden the bike. The last thing I needed was the sheriff thinking I was working against him.

  I stared down at the bike. I could show up at the party without the motorcycle—I could just check on Cassidy and her friends, then leave if they were all right. I only needed to make sure Magnum and the others weren’t giving them a hard time.

  It was a losing argument. Even though I could take the easy way out, something drew me to the motorcycle. I needed to ride, and I needed to show Magnum that I was still around.

  I pulled on my black riding gear, helmet, and gloves, then revved the engine. A smile settled over my face. The sheriff, the party, my nightmares—everything drifted away with the familiar rumble of the motorcycle. I kicked it in gear and drove out of the junkyard.

  I followed Jagger’s directions and knew I had found the right house as much by the number of trucks on the street as by the address. Appare
ntly everyone knew where everybody else lived in a small town like Sparrow. Stereos thumped and students spilled around the house in droves. It seemed everyone at school besides me had been invited.

  I pulled up to the front of the house and waited. I wasn’t sure what the best course of action was, but Magnum’s blue CBR and a dozen other motorcycles lined the property. I turned off the engine and was about to go in without a plan when several students on the porch noticed me. They pointed and spoke to their friends, and then everyone piled out the door. I felt a strange impulse to laugh. I wasn’t one to seek attention, but apparently, as the Black Rider, I had found it.

  Magnum’s eyes flashed when he appeared at the door. He stormed down the porch steps with the Bullets following behind. A crowd of students trailed after them, jostling and whispering to each other. Cassidy and Sandy stood on the porch with their friends.

  “Looks like you decided to take a break from harassment,” Magnum said when he drew near.

  “Can’t say the same about you,” I replied.

  He kept silent for a moment, and then a threatening smile spread across his face. “I was hoping you’d show up.”

  Foreboding rose in my chest. “Why’s that?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “I wanted to see if you were any good on that thing.”

  I studied him carefully. “How did you plan to find out?”

  “A race at the factory,” he replied. “You know the place?”

  I nodded. The thought of another race there made my heart pound, but I knew I had to be careful. “Why would I race you when I can just beat you down now?”

  He pulled something from his pocket. A set of keys jingled in his hand. “Principal Dawson’s pretty fond of his ’57 Chevy. He put a lot of work into restoring it. It’d be a shame if, say, someone set it on fire.”

  My heart tightened. “If I race you, I get the keys?”

  He shook his head. “If you win, you get the keys. You lose, and you can watch the thing go up in flames.”

  I kept silent. I couldn’t let him set the principal’s car on fire and I wasn’t much for trash talking, but the thought of racing at the factory with the chance to prove, even just to myself, that I could beat Magnum was more than I could have hoped for.