STRIKE: THE HERO FROM THE SKY (STRIKE TRILOGY, BOOK 1)

by Charlie Wood

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WINDSHIELD WIPERS.

  Swoosh-swoosh, back and forth, like someone sweeping with a rubber broom.

  Rain pattering against glass.

  Something soft and smelling of rubber.

  An engine hissing.

  Tobin opened his eyes. He was leaning against an airbag. Sitting up, he rubbed the back of his neck, which was aching terribly. Along with the windshield wipers, he could hear music—an oldie, from the station that he liked. The words were mixing in with the rhythm of the windshield wipers.

  With his vision unsteady, Tobin looked out the window. It wasn’t a strong storm, but the rain was small and fast, tick-ticking against his car and the pavement and the surrounding trees. He suddenly felt an overwhelming relief, like he could lift his shoulders again and breathe normally for the first time in days.

  Red-and-blue lights flashed across his face. He looked out the driver’s side window, seeing a police officer standing in the rain. He was a portly guy, like Porky Pig in a rain slicker. He was holding a flashlight and motioning for Tobin to unroll the window.

  “Hey, are you all right in there?”

  “Yeah,” Tobin said. “I think so.”

  “Then come on out if you’re not hurt. We gotta get you off the side of the road.”

  Tobin stepped out of his car, holding his head. He was home, right? How did he get here?

  “You’re lucky I was driving by and saw your car,” the policeman said. “You musta been going pretty fast—you can’t be doing that in weather like this. Where the hell were you trying to go right now, anyway?”

  Tobin looked to the front of his car: it was smashed into a telephone pole. Its hood was scrunched up, and a wisp of smoke was rising into the wet air.

  Confused, Tobin walked with the policeman to the police car.

  “I was actually on my way over to Middle Street,” the policeman said, “to help clean up the aftermath of the damn Apocalypse. I heard they finally got through that cloud, thank god. I still can’t believe you were out here driving around—you must be the only person on Earth who isn’t at home underneath their bed, waiting for the end of the world.”

  “The what?” Tobin asked. “What did you say? They finally got through what?”

  “The, uh, death cloud? Ya know, the one that fell from the sky around Middle Street? It finally started breaking away about an hour ago. People can get in and out of it now.” The policeman shook his head. “I swear, you kids and the news. You really need to put down the cell phones and start paying attention to the world.”

  Tobin leaned against the hood of the police car.

  “You sure you’re all right?” the policeman asked. “You look like you’re on another world or something.”

  “I’m fine,” Tobin replied. “But this is Earth, right?”

  The policeman laughed. “Yeah, Earth. The United States of America. Bridgton, Massachusetts. Come and sit down, for crying out loud. You musta hit your head pretty hard. Where do you live?”

  Tobin looked down the street. “Uh, right there,” he said, pointing. His house was only a few dozen feet away.

  “You crashed right in front of your house? That’s pretty weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  The front door of Tobin’s house opened, and Tobin’s mother stepped out. She saw her son standing in the rain with the police car.

  “Tobin?” she said. It was him. It was really him. “Tobin!” she cried, running toward him.

  Tobin walked to her. Of all the things that came to mind, he only needed to say one.

  “Mom.”

  She reached him and they embraced.

  “Tobin, what happened to you? Where have you been? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” he said, his eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She let go of him and held his face in her hands.

  “Where did you go?” she asked. “I was so worried, Tobin, I thought I was never going to—Bill and I, we didn’t know what to do, we looked and we called…where did you go, Tobin? Where have you been?”

  He rubbed his neck, scrunching his forehead. “I don’t know, Mom, I feel...I think—I don’t know, I think something—”

  “Hey ma’am?” the policeman said. He was inspecting the front of Tobin’s car. “You should call somebody to tow this thing outta here. And your insurance, too. This thing is pretty dinged up.”

  Tobin’s mother grabbed Tobin by his shoulders. “Stay here,” she said. “And don’t you ever think about moving. Ever again.”

  As Tobin’s mother and the policeman looked over the accident, Tobin leaned against the police car and tried to sort out his memories. Putting his hand into his jacket pocket, he found something.

  It was a note:

  SORRY ABOUT THE CAR, KID. ORION TOLD ME TO THINK OF AN ALIBI FOR YOUR INJURIES, SO THIS IS IT. PRETTY GOOD, HUH? AND ALL IT COST YOU WAS ONE CAR! YOU CAN THANK ME LATER. YOUR BUD, KEPLAR.

  Tobin smirked. He sat against the police car and laughed—a loud, sudden laugh.

  His mother and the policeman turned to him.

  “Uh, honey? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’m absolutely fine.”

  Tobin looked to the sky.

  The rain was finally stopping.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “MAN, THESE HILLSIDE KIDS ARE such losers,” Chad said. He, Tobin, and Jennifer were sitting in a different, foreign cafeteria. “I still can’t believe we have to spend the rest of our senior year with…with…Hillside kids. Ugh. I wanna puke.”

  “I know,” Jennifer said. She looked over the lunchroom full of students, most of whom she didn’t recognize. “There’s like forty kids crammed into my art class alone—it’s crazy. Right, Tobin?”

  Tobin realized someone had said his name. “Huh? Oh, yeah. My Computer Education class is packed, too. It sucks.”

  “Are you all right?” Jennifer asked him. “You seem out of it today, Tobin.”

  “I do? No, I’m just tired, I guess. I don’t know.”

  Chad leaned across the table. “You get any word from them, yet?”

  Tobin laughed at Chad’s demeanor. “No, I don’t think I will, either. They would have contacted me by now, somehow.” He shrugged and took a sip from his milk.

  “It’s only been three weeks,” Jennifer said. “Maybe they can’t contact you. Maybe they’re—I don’t know—unable to for some reason. You never know. I think they’ll find you soon.”

  Tobin shrugged again. “I guess. I’m just glad you guys don’t think I’m completely nuts.”

  Chad shook his head. “Dude, after everything we saw that day, and everything that happened in this town, I’ll believe anything you say. You could tell me you’re actually some kind of half-lizard creature from Mars, and I’d still believe you. You aren’t, are you?”

  Tobin laughed. “No. Not that I know of, anyway.”

  “Hey, look at this.” Jennifer pulled a scrapbook from her tote, placing it on the table. “Do you know Time magazine called ‘The Cloud’ one of the most important events of our lifetime? Right here, in little Bridgton. Can you believe it?”

  She flipped to a page; there was a magazine cover on it, and it showed the outside of the Dark Nebula. Its headline read:

  CONTACT FROM ANOTHER WORLD? SECRET GOVERNMENT COVER-UP? OR BOTH?

  “In our own hometown,” she added. “It’s crazy.”

  “I know,” Chad said, flipping through the book. It was filled with photos, magazines, and news stories about the Dark Nebula. “But you’re seriously obsessed with this.”

  He stopped on another magazine cover; this one showed the demolished Middle Street, with a headline reading:

  DISASTER IN BRIDGTON.

  There was also a blurry photograph of Vincent on the cover. The caption read:

  MONSTER OF BRIDGTON CALLED A HOAX.

  “I saw another guy on TV this morning saying the whole thing was fake,” Jennifer said. “That it was
just some kind of weird weather event, and we’re all freaking out about nothing.”

  Chad sneered. “I’d like to punch that guy in the face. No one knows what happened that day except the people who were there. And…Mr. Hero-Man!”

  “Chad!” Jennifer said. “Be quiet!”

  “What? I said it softly!”

  Tobin laughed. “I can see I picked the worst person in the world to reveal my secret identity to.”

  Chad shook his head. “No, dude, I just think that was the most awesome thing in the world. To do what you did that day, that kicked so much butt.”

  “All right,” Tobin said uncomfortably. “Thanks.”

  Jennifer put her scrapbook away. “We’re gonna go down after school and check out Middle Street, see how the clean-up is going. You wanna come?”

  Tobin thought it over. “Um…nah. I think I’m gonna head home. I’m pretty tired.”

  The bell rang and Tobin stood up.

  “I better get to class. Talk to you guys later.”

  “Later, dude.”

  “Bye, Tobin.”

  Jennifer and Chad watched Tobin walk out of the cafeteria.

  “You think I could be his sidekick?” Chad asked.

  “No!” Jennifer replied. “You’d be the worst sidekick ever.”

  They brought their trays to a trash barrel.

  “Why?”

  “’Cuz you don’t have any superpowers.”

  “So? Batman doesn’t have any superpowers, and he’s awesome.”

  “Does Batman still collect action figures?”

  “Hey!” Chad said, looking around the cafeteria. “Don’t say that so loud. I only do that as part of my secret identity.”

  They laughed and walked out of the cafeteria.

  After the last bell of the day, Tobin was walking across the student parking lot of Hillside High and toward his car. His mind, however, was elsewhere; he saw the world so differently now, as if he suddenly had new eyes from the ones he had only a month before: the people, the places, the things he saw on the news at night—it was all different, and he was having a tough time dealing with it. He only wished that there were others with whom he could talk about it.

  Tobin’s phone buzzed. He pushed his thoughts away for a moment and checked it.

  It was a text message, from an unknown number:

  I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

  Tobin was startled. He looked around. Another text:

  I KNOW YOUR SECRET.

  The boy couldn’t believe it. He stared at the phone. Another buzz:

  LOOK BEHIND YOU.

  Nervous, but prepared for a fight, Tobin turned around.

  “Orion!” he shouted.

  The old man was standing in front of Tobin, smiling.

  “Hi, Tobin. How are you?”

  Tobin wrapped his arms around him.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Orion laughed. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”

  “Whatever,” Tobin replied. “Where have you been?”

  Orion laughed again. “Come on, I have about twenty minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Tobin and Orion were sitting at a booth in a diner near Hillside High. The old man was drinking from a coffee cup, but Tobin’s soda was sitting in front of him, untouched, as he had been too eager to talk to even think about drinking from it.

  “So that’s the last thing you remember?” Orion asked.

  “Yeah—being with you on the roof across from the school, and then all of the sudden…I was in my car. It was very weird.”

  Orion nodded. “I thought that might happen. You pushed your body too far, too soon, and that last lightning jump pushed you over the edge. Your body couldn’t take it and shut down. Luckily, we were able to bring you to your house and get you to your car during all the commotion.”

  “I figured it was something like that.”

  Orion placed his coffee cup on the table. His next words came with a slight hesitation.

  “I saw in the papers that you’ve gone out some. As Strike, I mean.”

  Tobin nodded. “A couple times.” He shifted in his seat. “Up in Boston. Nothing too intense. I’m still trying to figure out if all this is for me or not.”

  “You’ve already done all you need to do,” Orion said. “I mean that. If you feel like you never want to put the costume on ever again, no one would ever begrudge you of that. Honestly.”

  Tobin nodded, looking at the table.

  “I—I wanted to thank you, Tobin,” the old man said.

  “For what?” Tobin asked with a laugh.

  “For doing what you did. I asked too much of you, when you barely had any idea about what was happening. And I want to thank you for being able to handle it the way that you did.”

  The boy shook his head. “Orion, without you asking that much of me, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Nobody would.”

  “I know. And that’s why I’m thanking you.”

  Tobin smiled. The old man checked his watch.

  “Well, we better get going,” he said. “There are some people who want to say hi before we go.”

  A few miles down the road, Tobin and Orion walked onto the roof of a shuttered Hillside warehouse. The boy saw what he never thought would be a welcoming sight: the Sky-Blade, with its brilliant silver sides gleaming. Two friends were standing next to it.

  “Hey!” Tobin said, walking toward them. “Funny seeing you guys here!”

  Keplar smiled. “Hey, how ya doing, kid?”

  Scatterbolt ran to the boy’s side. “Hi, Tobin!”

  Tobin laughed, putting an arm around the robot. “Thanks for the alibi with my car, by the way, Keplar. That was really great, thanks.”

  Keplar grinned. “Anytime, bro. My pleasure.”

  “How about you, SB?” Tobin asked. “How’re you feeling? Last time I saw you, you weren’t looking too good.”

  “Oh, I’m fine,” Scatterbolt said, waving away the concern. “I got all fixed up, no problem. Are you coming to the party with us tomorrow night?”

  “The party?”

  Orion laughed. “Aykrada asked me if she could throw a dinner for you tomorrow night in Gallymoora. I told her I’d see if you were up for it.”

  “Yeah, absolutely,” Tobin said. “Definitely.”

  Keplar opened the sky-ship door. “And her daughter’s gonna be there, too. Don’t forget about that.”

  Tobin laughed.

  “Okay, guys,” Orion said, “let’s get going.” He turned to Tobin. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow night? Seems like a good spot.”

  “Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

  “Okay.” The old man smiled. “I’m very proud of you, Tobin. I want you to know that.”

  The boy and the old man shook hands.

  “Thanks, O. It was nothing, really.”

  Minutes later, when all of its passengers were aboard, the Sky-Blade’s engines revved up. As it began to hover off the ground, Scatterbolt opened the passenger window.

  “Bye, Tobin!” he said with a wave. “See you tomorrow! I’m bringing the guacamole!”

  Tobin laughed and waved back. “Okay, SB! See you then! Can’t wait!”

  Soon, the Sky-Blade zoomed into the sky, and away into the clouds. When it was nearly out of sight, it disappeared with a CRACK! of thunder and a bright silver flash, leaving a streak of white smoke behind it.

  Tobin watched the sky. To see his friends again, and to know he would see them tomorrow, filled him with happiness.

  But then he heard a commotion on the street.

  “Help! Somebody help me!”

  Startled, Tobin walked to the edge of the building. He knew he was in one of the rougher parts of Hillside.

  “Somebody help me!” the person shouted again.

  Tobin looked to the street; a thief in a ski mask was running away from a liquor store, and an older man was standing in front of it.

  “Somebody stop him!” the older man shouted. “He just robbed me! Help!”
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  Tobin stepped back. He remembered the photo that Orion showed him that night at the supermarket—the one of Orion and his father, dressed in costume. Then he looked at the streak of smoke still left in the sky by the Sky-Blade.

  Tobin smiled. He opened his shirt, revealing the white ‘S’ underneath, and stepped to the edge of the building.

  End.

  BONUS MATERIAL

  CHAPTER ONE OF STRIKE: DAWN OF THE DAYBREAKER

  BOOK TWO OF THE STRIKE TRILOGY

  THE NIGHT AIR WAS HOT and still as Rigel trudged through the jungle. The seven-and-a-half-foot, red-skinned giant had been walking for hours now, and even his feet—strong, tough, elephant-like—were beginning to ache with each step. But, the pain did not matter, because he was almost there now. Almost home.

  Rigel turned to check on his two companions. Luckily, they were still there, but they looked even more tired than him. One of them was a young woman named Adrianna; she was in her early twenties and impossibly beautiful, with long, pin-straight dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, and fine skin nearly the color of snow. She also had an incredibly fit body, which was covered by a tight-fitting purple costume complete with a black cape on her back, black gloves, and tall, black boots on her feet. The other companion, the man in his mid-thirties named Nova, was more difficult for outsiders to figure out: he spoke rarely, and when he did it was always in a calm, collected manner. He was tall, and on his body he wore a green costume with white gloves, white boots, a long, white cape, and a large, multi-pointed white star on his chest. Other than that, his appearance was a total mystery—no one alive had ever seen his face, for his entire head was always covered by a featureless, grey mask made out of thin, metal wires, which crisscrossed over each other so tightly that it was impossible to see past them. From a distance, he looked like a medieval fencer—stoic and composed, but also standing up straight and ready for action.

  The strange trio—Rigel, Adrianna, and Nova—continued their trek through the dark jungle until finally Adrianna turned to Nova.

  “Are we almost there?” she asked. It was the first time anyone had spoke in nearly an hour.

  But Nova said nothing.

  “Um, hello?” Adrianna asked. “Nova? Are you awake? Are we almost there or what?”