Marrow

by Preston Norton

  “How would you like to check out Specter’s papo tomorrow at twelve-thirty?” I asked.

  Gustav was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “You have my attention.”

  ***

  Marrow…

  My name echoed down the empty corridor. There was no mouth to the voice—just a ghostly whisper emanating with a character of its own.

  The corridor was an infinite shadow. There was no glass or windows. Just a never-ending stretch of dark, dank metal, running pipes, and the occasional meager light bulb to tease the senses. Aside from the lingering echo of my name, all of the facility was asleep, lost in a deathly rest. The silence was tangible and suffocating. I could feel it in my throat.

  Marrow…

  A lone figure wandered into my view, his wiry build and dark hair unmistakable—Nero. The only thing missing was his stupid trademark smirk. The lack of it almost transformed him into an entirely different person.

  His jaw was tense, and his eyes darted like hummingbirds.

  Marrow…

  A single door appeared from the shadows, painted in yellow caution stripes. Bold black letters were painted on the plated steel surface:

  L-00/NE-00

  Restricted Area

  Authorized Personnel Only

  In the place of a doorknob or handle was a numbered security pad. Nero seemed to ignore this, however. Instead he touched the door, his thin fingers grazing the metal. As he did, numbers flashed by faster than I could comprehend them. And yet, even as they vanished, they were engrained in my mind.

  2-3-5-8-13-21.

  Nero’s head snapped up. His eyes shifted to the security pad and he punched the numbers exactly as they had appeared.

  Marrow…

  The door opened.

  Something screamed—sharp and desperate.

  No, not a scream. It was a siren, blaring ferociously and accompanied by flashing red lights. For a split second the corridor vanished, and I was falling. I landed on my bed. It took a second or two to register that I had been in my bed all along.

  A dream… It was just a dream.

  I fumbled to an upright position and glanced stupidly around the room. It took way longer than it should have for me to realize that the siren and the lights were both coming from the wrist communicator that I had set on my nightstand. Fighting my disorientation, I managed to grab the screaming wristband. The words, “Red Alert,” flashed repeatedly across the face.

  I tapped the screen, not really knowing what I was doing, and immediately, Gustav’s face appeared. His expression, however, was not tense with urgency so much as it was scrunched with awkward uncertainty.

  The screen split a half-second later, filled with a cranky, groggy-eyed Fantom with his hair pushed up on the left side of his head.

  “What’s going on?” Fantom mumbled irritably. “It’s not Spine again, is it?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” said Gustav. He seemed reluctant to mention what it actually was at all. “There vas a police report. Apparently there’s a…bar fight.”

  Fantom blinked. “A bar fight? You woke me up at two in the morning for a bar fight?”

  “It’s pretty bad,” said Gustav. “There’s a…er…Super involved.”

  No. There was no way. If my heart wasn’t already on the fritz, this conversation was thoroughly doing the trick.

  “A Super?” said Fantom. “Do we have him on record?”

  “Yes…vell…that’s vhy the police asked for us specifically,” Gustav murmured. “It’s Flex.”

  CHAPTER 32

  We broke the surface of the water in forty-seven seconds and hit the coast in three minutes flat. I was too sick with worry to enjoy a second of it.

  The cityscape whizzed below us as Fantom followed the coordinates he was given. Neither of us spoke, but Fantom’s disgruntled scowl seemed to say it all. Though Gustav never said it, it was obvious the only reason the police called us was because of me. They thought I could calm him down. Just how worked up was he? I didn’t know how out of control Flex could get, but I did have an idea of how drunk he could get.

  The Fantom Wing’s GPS announced that we had nearly reached our destination. Fantom pushed forward on the control rod. The exojet swooped into a deep spiral, slicing parallel to the nearest skyscraper. I managed to catch a glimpse of the Wing’s blurred reflection across the sweeping glass surface before Fantom pulled back up. The force of the lower thrusters rattled us in our seats, causing me to clench my armrests tighter. I leaned into my window and watched a patch of green expand below us. We were descending on the city park. At last we landed with a metallic clank. The engines died, releasing a heavy mechanical sigh.

  Fantom didn’t waste a second bolting out of the pilot’s seat. He marched to the exit ramp with clenched fists, grumbling profanities that’d I’d never even heard before.

  “Wait,” I said, “So what are we…?”

  “Stay here,” said Fantom. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “But I thought…” I mumbled. “I mean …er…maybe if I just talked to him for a second…”

  “I said I’ll take care of it!” he snapped.

  I pinched my mouth shut and nodded timidly. Fantom’s nostrils splayed, breathing death. Whirling around, he stomped down the ramp.

  As soon as he vanished around the corner I scampered after him.

  I was only halfway down the ramp when I spotted the bar in question. If there was anything left to question, that is. Even from twenty-something yards away I could make out the shattered windows, yelling, and flaring police lights surrounding the Sloshed Josh Bar and Lounge.

  Great.

  Tapping into my skeletal structure, I glided weightless across the grass. I clung to the shadows on the off chance that Fantom turned around, although this was the least of my worries.

  “Fantom!” exclaimed a police officer as he approached the perimeter.

  “He’s here!”

  “Thank goodness.”

  The officer who was seemingly in charge swept up to Fantom’s side. “We’ve tried communicating with this guy, but he’s plastered out of his mind. I was thinking—”

  “I’ve got it under control, lieutenant,” said Fantom. “If we can’t communicate with words, then we’ll just have to communicate with force, won’t we?”

  Fantom brushed past the lieutenant and stepped through the broken door, hanging by one hinge.

  The time for sneaking was over. I rushed out of the shadows. I slowed only slightly as I drew the gazes of several surprised officers.

  “I’m with him,” I announced in a hasty, uncertain tone.

  The lieutenant lifted an unconvinced eyebrow. He raised his hand halfway and opened his mouth, but stopped himself. I took that as my cue to keep going. Glass crunched beneath my boots as I entered the shattered building.

  I immediately took cover behind a fake plastic tree.

  The bar might have looked fancy with its artsy postmodern furniture and ambient, neon blue lights if it weren’t for all the bodies strewn everywhere. Black eyes and bloody noses all over the place. Not all of the people were out cold. Quite a few were still groaning or fumbling on the floor. One guy with his head resting on a table was even singing a Bon Jovi song, although I was pretty sure he hadn’t been a part of the fight and was so smashed that he probably didn’t even know what was going on.

  And then there was Flex—doubled over on the bar top, barely balanced on his stool. His dreadlocks were matted over the left side of his scraggly face. He raised a glass unsteadily and puckered his lips to find it but ended up pouring the drink all over the bar top. Flex scowled at the empty glass and dropped his face in the puddle.

  “Look at you,” said Fantom, his face pinched in revulsion. “Disgusting. And you call yourself a Superhero?”

  “Ohhhhhhh,” said Flex, lifting his head disjointedly, his mouth and eyes both wide. His sopping wet dreadlocks dripped in front of his face. “You wanna start with me, hotshot? I’ll show
you…I’ll show you what…I’ll beat you so hard you’ll…you…you’re stupid! Where are you, anyway? You wanna start with me?”

  “I’ll be honest,” said Fantom. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you. It’s two in the morning. I want to be in bed. Unfortunately, you’re such a joke that you need a real Superhero to show you your place.”

  Flex’s unsteady, wavering gaze finally narrowed on Fantom. He squinted between his soaked dreadlocks.

  “Fantom?” He blinked his glazed eyes which were instantly swallowed in a dirty glare. “What do you want?”

  “What do I want? I want to not have to babysit an idiot who thinks he’s a superhero. What do you think you’re doing, anyway?”

  “Uh…getting drunk. Duh. What does it look like?”

  “It looks like you started a fight and caused several hundred dollars’ worth of property damage.”

  “He started it,” Flex grumbled, raising his arm to point at no one in particular.

  “He?” Fantom repeated incredulously. “Who’s ‘he’? You’ve incapacitated the entire bar!”

  “No I didn’t,” said Flex, shaking his head in a woozy sway.

  “Flex…they’re all unconscious.”

  “Psh! No they’re not.” Flex steadied his head and attempted to absorb his surroundings. “See? He’s just fine.”

  Flex pointed to the guy who was still singing with his head propped on the table. The Bon Jovi lyrics had been replaced by a Journey song, and every word was slurred into an unintelligible slush.

  “Flex, I’m going to escort you out of here,” said Fantom. “And then the police are going to talk to you. Okay?”

  “Oh, I see,” said Flex. “First you take my sidekick, and now you want to take my freedom. Okay, whatever you say, boss.”

  My insides tightened. He just had to go there, didn’t he?

  Flex extended his wobbly arms, wrists together. “Cuff me, Captain America. I’m ready.”

  Fantom’s jaw clenched, drilling Flex with his gaze. He seemed to be deliberating whether it was worth it to argue with someone this drunk.

  “I didn’t take Marrow. I gave him an offer, and he chose to accept it.”

  “You’re just a glory-seeking psychopath who gets whatever he wants,” Flex spat.

  “You want to play that game?” Fantom challenged. “Fine. Marrow, come join us.”

  Both Flex and I went rigid almost simultaneously.

  “Yes, I know you followed me in here, Marrow,” said Fantom. “Come on out.”

  Shuffling out from behind that stupid plastic tree, I felt like all the eyes in the world were suddenly focused on me. Flex’s ashamed gaze was almost more than I could handle. He looked at me for only a brief moment before averting his gaze to the floor.

  “Flex thinks I took you unfairly, Marrow,” said Fantom. “So I’m giving you a second chance to make your decision. If you want this to be your mentor,” He gestured as though Flex were a ripped open sack of garbage, which honestly didn’t look that far from the truth at the moment, “so be it.”

  My gaze shifted from Fantom, whose arms were folded patiently, to Flex, who was glaring holes into the floor like his life depended on it.

  “Flex…what’s going on?” I asked, unsure what else to say.

  Silence. Flex was winning his staring contest with the floor.

  “Flex, talk to me. Please!”

  Flex pulled his wet dreadlocks away from his face. His mouth opened only slightly, but he seemed to immediately reconsider the thought. Sliding off of his stool, he staggered past Fantom. He passed without even looking at me, cutting straight for the door.

  “Flex!” I said. “What are you doing?”

  “Turning myself in to the police,” said Flex. “They’re going to arrest me either way.”

  I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come, and Flex certainly wasn’t going to wait. He stepped outside with his hands up. The silhouettes of several officers emerged from the blinding lights. One was already removing a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

  “Wait!” I said, desperate to say something—anything—that would make a difference. “We…we can bail you out. Right, Fantom? We can bail him out, right?”

  Fantom smiled, or at least he pretended to. “Of course we can, Marrow.”

  “NO!” Flex roared, whipping around. This sent all of the police into a frenzy, several reaching for their guns. “I don’t want his filthy money!”

  Two officers took Flex from behind, and not so gently either. One pushed him to his knees, and the other cuffed him.

  “Flex!” I cried. I literally cried. Tears were seeping across my mask and down to my chin. I was crying in front of the only male role models I had ever had as well as half of the Cosmo City police department, and I didn’t even care. I didn’t care how weak it made me look. I didn’t care what anyone thought. All I cared about was that my best friend was abandoning me, and yet, in a twisted sort of way, it felt like I was the one who had abandoned him.

  “I don’t need your pity, Marrow,” said Flex.

  Even as he spoke, however, something glistened in his eyes, betraying his words. But that didn’t stop the police from jerking him up by his biceps and throwing him in the back of a patrol car.

  CHAPTER 33

  “I’m going to be coordinating things with the police today about making preparations for the Cronus Cannon,” said Fantom. “I’ve asked Gustav to forward all emergencies to Nova, Apex, and Specter. This will give you a chance to relax. I figure you need it with everything that’s transpired lately.”

  I nodded my heavy head—more out of instinct than acknowledgment.

  The dining table was huge, easily twenty feet long. Fantom and I sat at opposite ends, and the distance between us was thick with awkward tension. I reckon that was mostly my fault.

  “You haven’t touched your food,” said Fantom.

  That wasn’t entirely true. I had succeeded in stabbing the yolks of my fried eggs and shoving their bloody yellow corpses into my hash browns and then mixing it all together with my every-kind-of-berry crepes. The end result looked like something had died a gruesome death on my plate.

  I took a forkful of the breakfast slop and quietly shoved it in my mouth, forcing myself to chew. I had to give Gustav props. Even after desecrating his breakfast masterpiece, the food still tasted pretty dang good.

  It was unfortunate that my stomach instinctively wanted to throw it all up.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “Everything’s fine.”

  I strained my face into a fake smile. I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone, though, so I don’t know why I even bothered.

  Fantom set his fork gently on his plate. “Is this Flex thing going to be a problem?”

  The guy sure had a knack for subtlety, didn’t he?

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I took the subtle approach as well.

  “May I be excused?” I asked.

  Without waiting for permission, I stood up and left.

  I started for my room knowing full well that I would probably get lost. Despite the grand tour, the Tartarus was still a maze to me—a big, underwater, glass maze with mutated sea monsters trapped inside.

  Can a kid get so lucky?

  I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost didn’t notice it as I passed—a glass door with yellow caution stripes and a numbered security pad. In bold black letters were painted the words:

  L-01/SE-27

  Restricted Area

  Authorized Personnel Only

  It obviously wasn’t the door from my dream, but heck if it didn’t ring some serious bells. What were those letters and numbers at the top anyway? Was it some sort of code?

  You know those moments when you remember something you shouldn’t remember? When it comes to you as easy as your own name? Well…maybe you don’t. But if moments like that existed, this was suddenly one of them.

  L-00/NE-00…

  2-3-5-8-13
-21…

  It was like they were carved into my subconscious. But how? Normally, I would forget my dreams as soon as I woke up. How was this dream so different?

  When you had something you really didn’t want to think about—and I had plenty—it was easy to run with a ridiculous idea like this. What was this dream door? Did it really exist? If so, where was it?

  I glanced down at my wrist communicator.

  It was time to see just how useful Gustav could be.

  ***

  “Well, I’m glad you called me,” said Dr. Jarvis, flattening his comb-over across his shiny, balding head. “It’s refreshing to see an inquiring young mind seeking after knowledge. These days it’s always about video games and break dancing.”

  “Break dancing?” I said.

  “It’s a little suspicious if you ask me,” said Gustav. “Vhen I vas a young boy in Nizhny Novgorod, life vas much more simple. Ve entertained ourselves by getting into fights and pulling girls’ pigtails and biting vild animals.”

  “Wow that’s…uh…that’s something,” I said.

  “Biting wild animals?” asked Jarvis in mild alarm. “Is that even sanitary?”

  “My family vas not superstitious,” said Gustav. “Ve did not believe in such things as germs and ghosts and stuff.”

  “Ah,” said Jarvis, pressing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s…interesting.”

  “Vhy do you vant to see a map, anyvay?” asked Gustav.

  “Just…curious,” I said.

  “Suspicious indeed.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Jarvis. “I was curious when I was your age too. Tried to build my own nuclear reactor once. Plutonium’s a little hard to come across when you’re in the seventh grade though.”

  “And people think Russians are scary,” Gustav muttered under his breath.

  Jarvis continued to lead the way while Gustav and I followed. We entered a sphere chamber that Jarvis called the Command Center. Personally, I thought it looked just like all the other sphere chambers, but I wasn’t about to tell Jarvis that. The one distinguishing feature was a round central table with a computer interface built into it. The entire surface was like a gigantic touch screen. Jarvis navigated through several options with the flick of his finger. At last he selected one final icon and the entire table lit up. Glowing blue projector streams joined together, creating a three-dimensional image of the entire Tartarus.