by Cheree Alsop
“Get him out of here,” I shouted over the roar of the flames.
The fireman nodded.
The fire chief and the other fireman were already following the other copycat into the next room. I ran after them and turned the corner in time to see two flashes through the smoke. Both men fell. I grabbed the chief and pulled him back. Blood showed through his suit at his shoulder. He struggled against my grip.
“I’ve got to find Sam,” he said.
I let him go and he went after his partner. We found him against the wall with his hands covering a wound in his stomach.
“Take him out,” I called to the fire chief.
“Be careful,” the fire chief replied. I helped him sling the man over his shoulder and made sure they left the room in safety.
Fire roared around me. Why did it always have to be fire? I pressed down the wave of memories that threatened to crash down. Someone needed me; I didn’t have time to be weak.
I ran in a crouch to the next room. The books on the shelves made a blaze almost too hot to bear. I heard the whine of a bullet past my helmet. I threw myself to the left, rolled, and came up behind a shelf. Three shadows followed.
“Like our little homecoming gift, Black Rider?” one of the copycats shouted. “We were told you had a thing for fire.”
My fingers curled into fists. I ducked behind another shelf and ran forward, keeping it between me and the copycats.
“Where’d he go?” one asked.
I dove out from behind the blazing books and tackled him around the waist. We hit another shelf and the books fell out around us. The copycat yelled as fire ate through his black outfit. He rolled on the ground in an effort to put it out.
A bullet struck the back of my vest hard enough to make me stumble. I righted myself and spun with a kick, catching the shooter in the chest. He fell to the ground, dropping the gun. I kicked it out of the way before he could reach it. The man blocked my next kick and attempted to punch me in the groin. I blocked the punch with my knee and slammed a fist into the side of his helmet. He collapsed to the ground.
“Dropping like flies,” the third copycat said. He clapped his hands in a slow cadence that belied the danger of the fire around us. “That’s what happens when you choose to use kids over real fighters.”
His words sent a shard of ice through my veins. I ripped off the helmet from the rider at my feet. Sure enough, it was Uzi from Magnum’s old Bullet gang; I recognized the rings through his eyebrows in the firelight. The other copycat on fire had managed to put it out and lay there gasping. I took his helmet off as well. It was Colt, his red Mohawk dark beneath my visor.
“Can’t save them all,” the third copycat said. A scream sounded; it was female. He motioned toward the stairs. “Save your aptly named copycats, or save Ms. Tillman on the second floor?” He laughed. “It’s the hero’s dilemma. Defeat evil, or protect the innocent? It isn’t always the same thing.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket. The copycat raised his gun. Instead of dialing, I threw the phone. It hit the copycat in the chest.
“Missed,” he said, but I was already following the throw.
I landed a two-handed punch square on his chest. He staggered back and attempted to bring the gun around. I blocked his elbow, hit him in the ribs, and then the kidneys. I slammed my left hand against the side of his helmet, then slid it along his arm and knocked the gun from his hand. I reached for it, but he was ready.
I blocked his knee before it slammed into my visor. I spun on one knee and knocked his legs out from under him. He rolled to the right and stood. I blocked two kicks, answered with two of my own that were also blocked, spun, and connected with a kick to his helmet. He stumbled to the left. I punched him twice in the ribs. He answered with a quick right to my helmet, followed by a left to my kidneys. I jumped back when he tried to sweep my legs, and stumbled against a cart of flaming books. When I righted myself, he was gone.
I grabbed the back of Colt’s jacket with one hand and dragged Uzi by his arm toward the door. I was almost there when it flew open.
“Kelson?” Sheriff Bowley demanded, peering through the smoke.
“Is that you?” Deputy Addison asked, his voice tight with worry.
“Get these guys out of here,” I said. Smoke filled my lungs and made me cough.
Sheriff Bowley and the deputy grabbed the unconscious boys. “The chief says this place is going down. You’ve got to get out!”
“The librarian is on the second floor. I have to get her out of here,” I shouted over the roar. I disappeared back inside before he could argue.
I ran to the stairs and rushed up them, all the while wondering where the third copycat had gone. He was a strong fighter; his moves reminded me of the copycat with the knife I had fought behind Bailey’s. They were seasoned, trained; their skills far surpassed the Bullet members. I wondered how they had gotten involved.
Heat pressed in from every side. It felt like my sneakers were melting as I ran up the stairs. I couldn’t breathe, and had to fight the impulse to take off my helmet. At least it was blocking some of the smoke. The door loomed ahead. I had no doubt the third copycat waited beyond it. I didn’t know if he had found his gun again. My back ached from the last bullet. I didn’t want to take a chance.
I didn’t slow down when I reached the top. Instead, I dove through the door and came up in a crouch. Two bullets hissed by before I spotted my attacker. I grabbed two flaming books and threw them. The copycat ducked, and I tackled him to the ground.
“Help!” someone screamed behind me.
I glanced back to see Ms. Tillman tied to a chair near a set of wide windows. Adrenaline sped through my veins at the sight of a fireman prying one of the windows open as he stood on a ladder outside. The copycat spotted him at the same time. He pointed the gun at the fireman.
I knocked his gun up as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the window just above the fireman’s head and shattered it. Ms. Tillman shrieked in fear. The book stacks around her went up in flames. I dropped to one knee and spun, kicking the copycat’s legs out from under him. I ripped the gun from his hand and turned to help Ms. Tillman, but the copycat caught my foot. I fell forward and hit the ground. The gun slid beneath a book stack. The copycat landed on top of me. I pulled his arm beneath me and rolled over, then grabbed the copycat’s shoulders and slammed his helmeted head against the ground. He stopped struggling, and I ran to Ms. Tillman.
Tears ran down her cheeks as I untied the ropes that bound her to the chair.
“Hurry!” the fireman called from the window. “The whole place is collapsing!”
I had the rope almost untied when the copycat barreled me to the ground. He had taken off his helmet and stared down at me. He had stringy black hair and a black rose tattoo on his cheek. His eyes were wild and rimmed with red. “You’re not saving her. You’re not saving anyone anymore, Black Rider!” he said with a crazed laugh. “You’re going to die in the fire you love!”
“Are you prepared to die with me?” I demanded. A bookshelf beside us collapsed, showering us with sparks.
“If need be!” the man replied.
I struggled to break free. The copycat was extremely strong, stronger than he should have been. I couldn’t break his hold on my uniform.
Another bookshelf fell. Ms. Tillman let out a sob. I couldn’t let her die, and I refused to be a victim of fire.
I knocked the copycat rider’s arms out from under him and pulled him against me. I rolled toward the collapsed bookshelf. I stopped with his back against the fire. He let out an unearthly scream as his jacket went up in flames. I shoved free and ran to Ms. Tillman. I jerked the remaining rope from her wrists, pulled her up to a standing position, and tried to help her walk to the window.
Her knees went weak; she wobbled, then fainted. I caught her as the fireman reached us. He helped me carry her to the window. He stepped through, then held out his arms. His eyes widened, warning me of an attack. I dropped to my
knees and crouched protectively over Ms. Tillman.
A flaming board slammed into my back. I spun, grabbed the board, and used my momentum to send the copycat rider out the window. He screamed before he hit the ground.
There wasn’t time to think about what I had just done. I lifted Ms. Tillman to the fireman. He accepted her with wide eyes and carried her carefully down the ladder. The fire beat against my back. There were at least a hundred people waiting below. Whirling lights from the fire engines and police cars lit up the night. The floor sagged under my feet.
“Black Rider, get out of there!” Sheriff Bowley shouted into a megaphone.
Something bothered me about the situation. I ran through everything that had happened. Greg called and said the library was on fire and there were copycat riders inside. The chief said he had sent a team in the back door. I fought four copycat riders, eliminating three on the ground floor and one on the second. Ms. Tillman was safe. What was wrong?
My mind raced. I should have seen the firemen the chief sent in through the back. Where were they?
I ran through the building. The floor dipped under my weight. I felt like my clothes were melting against me—the heat was unbearable. I reached the stairs and ran down them three at a time. I raced through the rooms where we had fought. The fire raged so bright, I was grateful for my tinted visor. Red and yellow tendrils snaked across the floor everywhere I looked. I couldn’t breathe.
“Kelson!”
My heart stopped. It was Zoey’s voice. I was in the warehouse again.
“Kelson!”
I blinked, seeing the rooms of the library. I ran toward the sound. A door on the right was closed. I slammed my shoulder against it twice, then a third time. It cracked, then buckled under the blows. Two firemen lay tied and unconscious on the ground. The room had three windows that overlooked the back of the library. My heart pounded above the sound of the raging fire as I searched for something to break the glass. I spotted a book cart; I ran to it and threw it through one of the windows.
“Over here!” I yelled. The shadows danced in my vision, creating light and dark from the burning of the flames against my retinas. I didn’t know if anyone heard me. I had to get the firemen to safety.
I pulled one of the firemen toward the window. I was almost there when other hands grabbed him and lifted him up. Several more firemen ran to the other man. I followed them out the window and collapsed on the grass. I couldn’t breathe. I pulled off my helmet and sucked in huge gulps of air.
Hands dragged me farther from the burning building.
“Get some oxygen over here!” a voice called.
“You okay?” someone asked.
An oxygen mask was placed over my nose and mouth.
“Breathe,” a familiar voice said.
I looked up at Deputy Addison. “You need the oxygen. Take some deep breaths,” he urged, his expression concerned.
I did as he instructed. Soon, my mind cleared, and though my throat burned, I could inhale without coughing. I took several more breaths.
“That was brave,” the deputy said. “Your mom’s going to kill you, but that was brave.”
“She doesn’t need to know,” I replied before I started coughing again.
He pushed the oxygen mask back against my nose and mouth. “Keep that on or I’ll have them run you to the hospital just to be safe.”
I obeyed. It felt better to breathe the oxygen than the smoke that was wafting from the library. After a few more breaths, I sat up. The deputy knelt beside me, my helmet in his hands. I reached for it.
“You sure you’re good?” he asked.
I nodded. “How are the firemen?”
“On their way to the hospital. If you hadn’t found them . . . ”
“The other firemen would have,” I concluded. “Firemen don’t leave their own.”
He nodded. “Glad you saved them a search that was quickly becoming deadly.”
He handed me the helmet. I put it on, but couldn’t see well through the visor. I ran a hand across it. A thick layer of soot coated my glove. Deputy Addison helped me stand.
“They knew I had a history with fire,” I said quietly.
He glanced at me in surprise. “What?”
“They said it was a homecoming gift.”
“We need to find out who’s behind this,” the deputy replied with steel in his voice.
The roof of the library collapsed, sending sparks high into the air. “The sooner, the better,” I agreed.
We walked around the side of the library. Firemen were spraying it down with water to contain the blaze, but it was obvious there was no saving the building.
“It’s like Magnum’s house,” I said to the deputy. “It went up too quickly. I’ve never seen flames move so fast.”
Deputy Addison nodded. “These are planned attacks to get a response. The fact that they were waiting inside the fire for you is a huge red flag. Do what you can to keep your family safe.”
“I need to find out what they know about me.”
“After the three you pulled out are cleared from the hospital, they’ll undergo intense questioning with the sheriff.”
I asked the question I had been avoiding. “What about the one I threw from the second floor?”
Deputy Addison answered without skirting the issue. “He died from the impact.” He glanced at me. “We know it was self-defense.”
I gritted my teeth and nodded.
When we cleared the line of firemen, citizens from Sparrow rushed forward. People cheered and patted me on the back, thanking me for saving the librarian and the firemen. I couldn’t take any joy in their gratitude. Thoughts of the dead copycat rider took that away.
Deputy Addison guessed my feelings.
“Let’s let the Black Rider get some rest. He deserves it,” the deputy told the crowd.
They backed off with calls of thanks for my bravery. I spotted Ms. Tillman in the back of an ambulance. She was sitting up with an oxygen mask on her face. She lifted a shaky hand. I raised my own in reply.
“Head straight home. I’ll be there to check on you as soon as I can get away,” the deputy said in an undertone.
“I’ve got to drop Maddy off first,” I replied. Fear knifed through my chest. I looked around quickly, searching the edge of the parking lot for Madelyn. My breath returned at the sight of her standing next to the motorcycle. She still had her helmet on so the crowd wouldn’t know who she was.
I ran to her. It wasn’t until I had my arms around her that I could convince myself she was safe. She held me, and I felt her trembling.
“I counted the seconds you were in there,” she said, her voice almost steady. “I kept telling myself you’d be out any moment. When the window broke, I saw you fighting. When the man flew through the window, I was worried it was you, but he wasn’t wearing a helmet.” Her voice cracked. “Then you carried Ms. Tillman out, and disappeared.”
“I had to find the firemen,” I told her, running a gloved hand down her hair to slow her trembling. I remembered too late that my gloves were covered in soot from the fire.
“I’m just so glad you’re okay,” she said.
“I shouldn’t have left you out here. What if they came for you?” I asked.
“I would have held out until you returned,” she said.
The bravery in her voice made me smile. “I’m sure you would have.”
I climbed onto the motorcycle. She stepped on the back peg and swung her leg over. I felt calmer with her arms around me. I started the motorcycle and noticed Deputy Addison watching us from near an ambulance. I lifted a hand. He waved back. I drove out of the parking lot.
WE WERE ALMOST TO Madelyn’s when the adrenaline began to wear off. My hands shook so hard that I could barely keep the motorcycle upright. Madelyn leaned forward.
“Pull over,” she called above the sound of the engine.
I felt so numb, I couldn’t do anything other than obey. I steered the motorcycle to the edge of a
dirt road that fronted the paved one and turned it off. I leaned forward and rested my helmet against the handlebars. Smoke filled my senses. It was everywhere, reaching down my throat, choking me.
“Breathe,” Madelyn said soothingly. She unbuckled my chinstrap and pulled my helmet off.
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths of the cool night air. My lungs burned. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I refused the sobs that filled my chest, but I couldn’t stop the tears.
“It’s okay,” Madelyn said, her voice just above a whisper. She leaned against my back, wrapping her arms around me as if she guessed just how much I needed to be held. “It’s all right.” She sat up and I felt her take off her helmet. She leaned down to set both of them on the ground. “Kelson, look at me,” she urged gently.
I couldn’t stop the tears. I shook my head, feeling raw and exposed like a fresh wound. Each breath ached; I remembered the bullet that had struck the back of my vest.
“Kelson,” she repeated.
The way she said my name took everything that was left of me and wrapped it in cotton. I felt safe and secure against the nightmares that plagued my waking hours. I turned slowly so I sat backwards on the motorcycle.
She cupped my cheek gently in her hand and lifted my chin. I made myself meet her gaze.
“Oh, Kelson,” she said in a tone that broke my heart and understood everything about me at the same time. She wrapped me in a hug, leaning against me so her hair dried my tears and her head rested on my chest.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It hurt, but I didn’t care. I let it out slowly, driving away the fear, the confusion, the guilt, the remorse. With her in my arms, I was all right. The shaking stopped. My heartbeat slowed.
“There you go,” Madelyn said softly. I could hear the smile in her voice. “You are always so strong.”
