The Last Hero (Book 1): Ultra

by Blake, Matt

  But deep down, I knew the real reason why I wasn’t eating well.

  I walked towards my front door. I didn’t want to get into a deep conversation with Mom about where I was going. She’d only worry.

  I hoped to sneak out as the chicken sizzled in the pan. As the fumes from the spices made me cough.

  “Where you off to?”

  Dad’s voice made my stomach sink. I turned around. Looked back at him. “Just out.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed. That pallid look that had covered his face for the last eight years was there as strong as ever. “You sure that’s a good idea, Son?”

  I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah. I mean, I can’t stay cooped up in that bedroom forever.”

  “Where you off to, then?”

  “Just… just Damon’s.”

  “Damon’s?”

  I nodded, feeling my cheeks flushing. I’d never been good at lying to my dad. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. How could I possibly begin to tell him the truth?

  “Don’t be long. Dinner’ll be ready in an hour, tops.”

  “I’m just checking in on him, that’s all. I’ll be back in no time.”

  I smiled at Dad. And for a moment, I thought that smile might just look convincing.

  Dad nodded. “Good.” He turned around.

  I lowered the handle and went to step outside.

  “Stay safe, Son.”

  Dad’s words made my chest well down. “I will, Dad.”

  I walked out into the cool summer air, the sounds of the city a distant murmur.

  I wasn’t going to Damon’s. I’d checked in on Damon a few times, sure, and he was doing… well, he was doing okay after the attack. Not amazing. How could anyone be doing amazing? He was just okay.

  But I had something else to do.

  I was going to somewhere else entirely.

  When Dad was younger, before the Great Blast, he ran a pretty decent car mechanics shop over on the north side of Staten Island right by the ferry terminal. Peters’ Parts, it was called. Decent business. Never made him rich, but enough for the family to get by in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

  Soon after the Great Blast, after Carrie’s death, Dad kind of let that place go to ruin. He tried selling it, but the building was in such a state after years of ill maintenance that he could never get rid of it. He sold everything worth something inside it, gutted it as well as he could, but he still technically owned that garage. Nowadays, he worked part-time at a grocery store just a few blocks away from our home. Mom worked reception at a salon in the day, and sometimes the late shift at a hotel bar at night. I figured she brought in most of the money. But she seemed alright about that. She seemed content.

  I stood outside the chain linked fences surrounding it, the rain lashing down from the dark clouds above. I was a long way from Damon’s. I was a long way from home.

  But I was exactly where I needed to be.

  I looked up at the chain linked fence. I knew I could try using my powers right away to get inside Peters’ Parts, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself.

  I climbed over the chain linked fence, looking left and right, making sure no one was onto me. My hood was pulled over my head. I knew I probably looked like a criminal, but fortunately, most people around Staten Island knew there wasn’t much worth stealing in Peters’ Parts after all.

  I dropped down the other side. Felt a stitch biting at my stomach. Already, I was out of breath. Damn. This was why I needed to think about exercising more. And no, Wii Sports did not count as exercise.

  I ran across the gravel. One of the windows at the side of the garage was smashed and covered in cobwebs. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use that window. I was pushing my luck as it was. Rather just walk in through the door. Rather just…

  The door was locked.

  Shit.

  I stood beneath the smashed window and looked up at it. I could jump up there and squeeze my way inside. I’d have to be careful I wasn’t being watched—I’d already been let off the hook by the CCTV gods once as it was. And I didn’t fancy explaining what I was doing here to Dad. Not one bit.

  My skin crawled as I pictured the rats crawling around inside there. Or cutting my hands on infected glass. Ugh.

  But I had to get inside. The harder it was to get inside this place, the better. Because it meant I wasn’t going to be seen.

  And with what I was planning, I couldn’t be seen.

  I jumped up. Gripped onto the side of the window ledge with my palms. I didn’t have much upper body strength, but I used what little I did have to pull myself up, drag myself inside.

  I felt loose shards of glass nicking at my bare skin, cutting at my hoodie. Inside the garage, total darkness. I could smell mustiness. Damp. And weirdly, weed and urine, like someone had been hanging out in here.

  The thought of dropping into a hobo’s den sent shivers up my spine.

  But halfway through the window, I didn’t really have much choice.

  I landed hard on the solid floor. I stood up, dusted myself down, winded once again. I couldn’t hear anything in here. Nothing but things scuttling about. I could feel cobwebs against my face and swore I felt little spiders creeping along my neck.

  I searched. Searched for a light source.

  And then I realized my stupidity.

  Of course there wasn’t gonna be a light source. Dad had left this place for dead. No way he was going to still be paying for…

  Weird thing happened when I pressed down the light switch.

  The lights flickered on.

  They were dim. Not the full beam they used to be. But they were there.

  I wondered if Mom knew Dad was still paying for electricity in this place. And I wondered why he was still paying for electricity in this place.

  I looked around. The room was as I’d remembered as a little boy, only a sad fossil of what it used to be. There was the spine of an old red car in the middle of the room. An Escort, or something. Looked pretty cool, but it’d need a lot of work to get in order; work this place wasn’t seeing any of. The floor was covered in dust and mud. Water dripped down from the roof above, covering the old car manuals, which were already so soaked they were going moldy.

  It felt sad, seeing this place in such a condition. It used to be my dad’s life. And just like my dad’s life, it was nothing now.

  But I didn’t have time to feel sad.

  I was here for a reason.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel about discovering I had ULTRA capabilities. Mostly terrified, which was consistent with my overall character, I figured. But I’d be damned if I didn’t learn if I could recreate those powers. Or at least figure out how to use them.

  I turned to a wooden beam sticking through the middle of the room. Held my breath. Pulled back my fist.

  I cracked it into the wooden beam.

  I yelped with the pain. The beam didn’t even dint. Shit. I could’ve tried something lighter first. If anyone saw me, they’d think I was mad.

  I held my breath and tried again. And then I tried jumping onto the wall just like I had in the stadium.

  I ran towards it. Ran with as much confidence and power as I could.

  I could do this. I could climb this wall and I could run along it. I’d done it before so I could do it again.

  I could—

  My feet hit the side of the wall.

  I ran up it, just a little.

  And then I went hurtling back to the floor, ass first.

  I kept on trying, as much as I wanted to give up. I felt irritation growing inside me as I landed on my ass for the seventy-fifth time in the space of ten minutes. It was a quarter to eight, so I had to be back in fifteen minutes. What a waste of time I’d spent in here. I hadn’t learned a thing, only that I was just as useless as I’d always been.

  Part of me was relieved. Because I didn’t want to be burdened with those abilities. I didn’t want to be public enemy number one.

  But pa
rt of me felt disappointed, too. Because when I’d used those powers, I didn’t feel utterly useless. I felt strong.

  Not like the kid who fake-shat himself in the toilet last week.

  Not like…

  When the embarrassment hit me, I saw a pencil drop off a flat work surface on the other side of the room, hit the floor.

  I felt a tingling feeling in my stomach. And it reminded me of how I’d felt at the stadium two days ago. It reminded me of the fear I’d felt. The embarrassment I’d felt.

  It reminded me of the pain I’d felt.

  The pain of losing Cassie.

  I let go of my breath.

  Tensed my fist.

  And then I walked over to the wooden beam and rammed my fist through it.

  I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing at first. I couldn’t believe I’d actually done what I’d done.

  But the middle of the beam came flying out.

  My knuckles didn’t even hurt.

  I laughed. Felt a smile of amazement spreading across my cheeks. My fear. My pain. My embarrassment. They were strong feelings. They were what made me feel strong. Brought out my powers.

  I focused on that feeling, that tingling feeling, once again, and then I jumped across the room.

  I went further than I thought was possible. And sure, I landed on my ass like an untrained gymnast, but the fact was I’d done it. I’d discovered my powers. I’d discovered that I did have the abilities of an ULTRA, whether I liked it or not.

  I saw the Great Blast in my mind. Saw Orion and Saint fighting above me. I saw Cassie running towards me, telling me to go back.

  I heard the Escort in front of me starting to creak. And as I focused on the pain of my mom and dad’s screams as they lifted Cassie’s body from the road, I felt a weight in my mind.

  The car lifted further off the ground without me even touching it.

  Further and further.

  I saw Orion.

  I saw Saint.

  I saw all the chaos they’d caused.

  And with the anger inside me, I tossed the car over to the other side of the garage.

  I watched it move through the air as if in slow motion. Watched it power towards the wall of this place, ready to smash to pieces.

  And then I saw movement outside the door of the garage.

  I heard a key.

  “Who’s in there?”

  My stomach dropped. I grabbed the car with my mind. Stopped it hitting the wall. Dad. Dad shouldn’t be here. Why would he be here?

  I didn’t have time to think.

  The door opened.

  Dad stepped inside.

  I held my breath.

  13

  Martin Peters looked around the garage and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

  It was rainy as hell outside. He’d come down here to check there weren’t any more leaks. Always made sure he kept an eye on this place when it rained heavily. It wouldn’t be the first time this place flooded. Besides, he wouldn’t want his vintage red Ford Escort to get ruined.

  He’d not been in this place for years until recently when he decided to work on an old Escort for Kyle. He figured it could be a decent birthday present for him. A cool, classic car, modeled to run perfectly in today’s world. His son was a good kid, and he’d missed out on the last few years of his life. If he could provide him with that special something, especially after all the hell that’d been going on lately, he’d be happy. Happy he could put a smile on that boy’s face again. A real smile.

  He thought back to the times he used to spend in this place. Peters’ Parts was never thriving, but it got busy. He missed the jokes and laughs between himself and his workmates. He missed the smell of petrol, first thing every morning. Looking back, he felt a kind of sadness as the truth struck him: he’d lived the best days of his life in this place. He’d peaked, and it’d been all downhill from there.

  He stepped further inside the garage. Looked around. His heart pumped. He swore he’d seen someone in here when he was approaching. Swore he’d heard something. And the light was on, too. Someone had been here, whether he liked the thought or not.

  But there were no signs of a break-in.

  Everything was exactly in its place. Where it was meant to be.

  Even the Escort.

  He walked over to it. Put a hand on it. The surface of it was crazily clean. The rest of the room was dusty, but not that Escort.

  Weird. He didn’t know what to think of that. Didn’t know what to make of it.

  Not until he saw the smashed window at the side of the garage.

  He tilted his head to one side and sighed. “Dammit,” he muttered. “That’s how they got in here.”

  He walked over to it. Took a close look. He was gonna have to get that fixed tomorrow. CCTV might catch the criminals, but it didn’t stop ’em.

  But for now, as Martin looked around, it didn’t seem like anything was amiss in this place. Didn’t seem like anything was off.

  When he kept completely still, though, he got that weird sensation up the back of his neck. The kind you get when someone’s watching you, only you don’t know where they are.

  He stood still. Tried to listen for sounds, catch any movement in the corner of his eyes.

  He turned around and saw something standing right at the back of the room.

  It had the shape of Kyle, his son. But what would his son be doing here? Why would Kyle be…

  When Martin blinked, Kyle had gone.

  He frowned. He swore he’d seen Kyle standing right there, looking back at him with that petrified look on his face he seemed to have most of the time.

  He walked over to the spot, slowly. Kept his eyes on it. “Kyle?”

  No sound in return. No movement. And nowhere Kyle could’ve hidden. No place at all.

  He tutted. He musta been tired. That was it. He was just tired and seeing things. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  But still, he stood there a little while longer. Looked at that spot where he’d seen his son for a split second, as real as day. He waited to see if he showed himself again. If he emerged in his vision, just like he had before.

  When he didn’t, Martin walked over to the door, hit the lights and stepped out.

  I let go of my deep breath and released my camouflage.

  Adrenaline coursed through my system. Dad had looked right into my eyes, right through my eyes, and he hadn’t said a word. He’d stood right up to my face and looked right through me.

  My heart raced as the rain lashed down on the roof above. I heard every raindrop as if in slow motion. I saw everything in this room in complete order, which I’d managed to do in the space of a second.

  I was everything I suspected.

  I was everything I feared.

  I was the last ULTRA.

  14

  I expected my return to school to be just as it was beforehand. Picking up where I’d left off. Going back into a world where I was the butt of the jokes.

  Except it wasn’t.

  That was the greatest surprise of the many surprises this week.

  I sat in the school yard against the wall with Damon. It was lunchtime, and the sun was out, which meant everyone was outside. Not that we ever sat our lunch inside. Not even in the thick of winter did we do that. We liked to pretend it was because we were cool, but in fact, it’s just ’cause we weren’t cool enough to sit in the main canteen. We’d draw far too much attention, simply because we were losers.

  “Damn,” Damon said. He sat beside me munching down on an apple. “I think I preferred it when people didn’t treat us like we’re ghosts.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I said.

  “It’s weird, though, right? How… how what happened to us can just have changed how everyone is with us. Just like that.” He clicked his finger.

  I knew what Damon said was right. People walked through the school yard, glanced over at us. People that would usually stop to have their say, one way or other. But the bulk
of them just ignored us today. Let us off the hook, like we’d been through enough as it was.

  “Is it true what happened to you guys?” one of the younger kids asked.

  Damon wiped his hands together. Stood up, half-smile on his face. “If you’ve heard the story about me scaring the gunmen away, then it’s all true.”

  “I didn’t hear that.”

  “Well, now you have.”

  The kids looked at Damon and me like we were strange for a few seconds, then off they ran.

  “Why’re people treating us like we’re, like, kinda cool?” Damon asked.

  I shrugged. “Probably something to do with us being at a soccer game in the first place. Which is cooler than anything we’ve ever done.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s cool,” Damon said, dragging me to my feet. “Ellicia. She’s cool.”

  My stomach turned. “Yeah. She is.”

  “You two were really hitting it off the other night, too.”

  “Yeah. Before gunmen ran into the stadium and started—”

  “You were hitting it off. And you know you were. Man, have you even spoken to her since… since what happened?”

  I felt guilt building inside. Truth was, I hadn’t spoken to Ellicia since the attack at the stadium. I knew I probably should. She’d been through a traumatic event—all of us had. It was something that’d stay with us ’til the day we passed away.

  But truth was, I’d had other things on my mind.

  Like being an ULTRA.

  “I mean, the party’s coming up. And she did mention that, didn’t she?”

  I shook my head and walked away. “The party’s not an option.”

  Damon punched my arm. “Of course the party’s an option, asshole. Especially now you’ve climbed the cool stakes.”

  “I didn’t exactly do anything heroic in that stadium,” I lied.

  “No, maybe not—well, obviously not—you’re Kyle Peters. But you’ve got the whole mystery vibe going on right now. The whole survivor vibe. You should use it, man. Use it before it goes stale. I know I am.”

  I stopped walking. “I don’t know. I mean, I want to, but…”