Generation Next: A Superhero Adventure (The Pantheon Saga Book 3)

by C. C. Ekeke

  Missy nodded. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she begged. Tears streamed down her cheeks, smearing her makeup.

  I won’t if you’re innocent. “As long as you keep this conversation secret,” Quinn bartered. When Missy agreed, Quinn helped her up. “Let’s find a bathroom and fix your makeup.”

  Minutes later, Missy was back in the ballroom, laughing and joking with guests like nothing had happened.

  And Quinn had the confession on her cell. Some quick clicks sent the recording to her personal email.

  Quinn was mostly convinced of Missy’s innocence. Montgomery Major staging these fights without the superhero’s knowledge made sense. Now Quinn needed to learn which Junction sponsors Monty had chosen and why. But Jess or Packer hadn’t returned to the ballroom.

  “Dunno,” Colin confirmed when asked of their whereabouts.

  Quinn headed for the exit they’d left through, leading into the lobby. She spotted Packer and Jess several yards away in deep conversation. They were waiting by the guest elevators, their backs to Quinn.

  Elated, Quinn opened her mouth to call Packer.

  She then spotted Tania Navarro on Packer’s other side and stopped herself. The dark-haired Filipino woman was texting on her cell while Packer and Jess chatted. Why are Packer, Tania, and Jess at the elevators? The Ad Sales VP then draped his beefy arms around both Jess’s and Tania’s shoulders. The petite strawberry blonde beamed at her boss and slipped an arm around Packer’s back. Tania remained fixated on her mobile device.

  Quinn gasped and dove behind a pillar. She peeked around, her stomach imploding in disgust.

  The trio looked very comfortable. Especially Packer and Jess, both married to other people. The elevator opened, and the trio stepped inside. Then the doors closed.

  Quinn emerged from her hiding spot, trying to pick her jaw up off the floor. Jokes about Packer’s harem had run rampant around SLOCO Daily’s office for years. Never had she thought them to be true. Quinn threw her hands up in utter exasperation then let them drop. “Why am I always seeing this crap?”

  A familiar jingle jarred Quinn out of her shock. The caller couldn’t have come at a worse time.

  “Annie!” Quinn cried. She had so wanted a long overdue heart-to-heart with her. Just not now. “Dealing with work drama. Can we talk tonight?”

  “Quinnie.” Annie sounded like someone had died. “Is Jodie safe?”

  Quinn frowned, momentarily confused. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Oh my God,” Annie gasped. “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?” Vice-like worry squeezed around Quinn’s throat.

  Annie exhaled raggedly. “A bombing happened at Paso Robles High. I don’t know specifics. But you should call your aunt and uncle.”

  Quinn’s heart stuttered. A Paso Robles High bombing. Like the teen suicide bombing Hugo was investigating. “Uh…thanks, Annie,” she stammered. Towering worry made thinking a challenge. “Talk later. Bye.”

  Once she hung up, Quinn tapped her SLOCO Daily mobile App. The news was front and center.

  ‘SUICIDE BOMBING STRIKES PASO ROBLES HIGH.’

  Quinn couldn’t feel her legs. Only icy fear.

  Fear for her cousin Jordana.

  Fear for Hugo, despite his powers.

  Fear for every Paso High student, teacher, and employee.

  “No…” Quinn whispered, collapsing against a pillar behind her. “Oh my God, no.”

  Chapter 26

  “Alright,” Hugo wheezed in growing discomfort. “That doesn’t feel great.”

  He was on all fours like some muscle-bound table. Burnt wood and ash flooded his nostrils. Everything around him was cracked stone and twisted metal. His hearing caught flames devouring what remained of the library. Outside, the librarians and students Hugo had saved were screaming. Beyond that, chaos consumed Paso Robles High. Terrified teenagers getting ushered outside while panicked teachers barked orders.

  Hugo’s arms and legs quivered under tons of wreckage burying him and Brie. Concrete slabs, pipes and metal generators from the roof, all resting on his back. Before the ceiling collapsed, Hugo had hesitated a second too long, stuck on if running through the flames would roast Brie alive. People cargo alters every decision, Lady Liberty had taught. That indecision had only left Hugo time to shield Brie before she got crushed. Lying under his makeshift body tent, she looked asleep and peaceful. Hugo’s panic hiked. Any dislike harbored for Brie vanished. Please don’t die.

  Hugo tried pushing up in this awkward table position, back protesting. But the debris on his back and shoulders was unstable, slight movements causing groans and wobbling.

  Hugo slumped to all fours, cursing his sloppiness. One wrong move could trap him and kill Brie.

  He pushed upward again, growling in exertion. Now the debris wouldn’t budge.

  Despite his superstrength, Hugo was helpless. The awareness was more embarrassing than the beating from Vincent Van Violence.

  “Help!” he cried in urgency. Briseis couldn’t last as long as him under here. “Somebody HELP!” The weight pressing into his back made talking a struggle. And a sonic shout with Brie so close was a no-go. “We’re in here…please help!”

  No reply. No one outside the library could hear over the raging fire and collapsing rubble.

  Some superhero… Despair pulled Hugo under with startling force. He’d failed to stop this bombing, like he’d failed as Lady Liberty’s sidekick. Hugo couldn’t even free himself from this rubble…

  He looked down at Briseis underneath him, still as a corpse. Too still.

  Her heartbeat was gradually slowing. And her breaths grew frightening shallow. Hugo inhaled deep, tasting thin and dirty air.

  She’ll die before anyone finds us. Hugo knew that for certain. More people would die if Hugo didn’t stop Mister Quiet. That couldn’t happen trapped under this wreckage.

  In that moment, Hugo’s despair retreated. San Miguel needed him. So did Brie. Titan found him worthy of these powers. Now Hugo had to prove that to himself.

  “C’mon, Bogota. C’mon…move!” He pushed himself upward. The debris wouldn’t move.

  Hugo kept pushing, muscles aching with strain. The debris shifted a little.

  Hugo’s elation surged through him. He rose high enough to crouch. Everything trembled, threatening to collapse. Smoke leaked through packed rubble seams. Brie was barely breathing—dying. Hugo clenched his teeth, reaching deeper, pushing his hands under the debris with full arm strength. He rose slowly yet steadily. Tons of unstable debris sent tremors through his knees but wasn’t impossible like he’d believed earlier.

  Now completely vertical, Hugo hurled that immense debris away with a shout.

  The concrete slabs and generators struck burning remains. Hugo staggered, barely catching himself before toppling over. Sunlight poured down from the ceiling’s Texas-sized hole. Hugo gasped in relief, nearly choking on thick smoke. In front of him, the library burned. Yellow-and-gold flames hungrily devoured the debris Hugo just tossed.

  He flinched away. “Oh, that.” Hugo could walk through fire unscathed. But not Brie, even at superspeed.

  An idea formed after some quick thinking. Something he’d seen Titan do to extinguish fires. And if the Central Coast Saint had done it, Hugo could, too. “Here we go.” Spreading his hands wide, he slammed them together.

  The clapping shockwave shook the library to its foundations. Hugo heard glass shattering in nearby classrooms, dangling light fixtures falling. He briefly feared he’d made things worse. Then the billowing gusts from the shockwaves washed away the fires dousing the library.

  The flames receded into smoldering embers, leaving blackened ruins.

  “YES!” Hugo cried triumphantly, fist-pumping.

  Feeble moans behind Hugo jarred him out of triumph. He turned. Under a haze of smoke, Brie stirred.

  Hugo crouched beside her. “Briseis?” he asked softly. She sagged, still unconscious. “Can you hear me?” As Hugo slid bot
h arms beneath Brie, lifting her from the ground, his gaze wandered to the library’s rear wall. “We’re—” Hugo choked on his words.

  A charred corpse stuck to that wall, no doubt blasted back by the bomb detonation. Hugo never knew her name, but he immediately recognized the girl he couldn’t save. His self-congratulations evaporated. He tore his eyes away as tears welled up. With considerable effort, Hugo forced himself to look at the remains.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Fighting back grief, the Samoan stood and adjusted Brie’s posture so her head rested on his shoulder. Hugo then weaved through cloudy, smoldering wreckage.

  He stepped out of the library into pandemonium. Screams, fire alarms blaring, sprinklers soaking everyone. Hugo spotted the English Lit classmates he’d saved clustered several yards away while librarians and teachers tended to them. Hugo grimaced seeing those with nasty gashes or other injuries. He hadn’t been as careful when tossing them out of harm’s way. Hugo powerwalked to the group carrying Brie’s limp body. “Help!” he shouted over the fire alarms. “Help her!”

  One teacher turned. “Hugo?” Mr. Proctor sounded surprised.

  “And Briseis.” Hugo approached his scared classmates, placing Brie on the floor. “She’s hurt. Help her.” The students swarmed them, buzzing with amazement at their survival.

  Mr. Proctor crouched beside Hugo, overly coifed hair plastered to his head. “How…how did you and Briseis survive?” he asked shakily.

  The librarian ordered the rest of the students to give Brie and Hugo breathing room. Hugo appreciated that, glancing at the library. Curling black smoke poured from the shattered door. “We were in the back,” he explained honestly. “Brie pulled me out of the way. Please help her.”

  Mr. Proctor nodded considerately, kneeling to check Brie’s vitals. Nice to see he wasn’t a total asshole.

  “I’ll check your vitals,” the hefty female librarian said, reaching for Hugo’s shoulder.

  He caught her hand so fast she yelped. Hugo let go and pointed at Brie. “Her first.” Terrified, the woman promptly did as he ordered.

  Hugo moved back while the librarian and Mr. Proctor examined Brie, who started to rouse. His relief was dizzying. Tears fell, lost under sprinkler showers. Soot and grime bled off Hugo’s chiseled frame in dark rivulets.

  Other students pestered him about a second explosion that had shattered several windows. Hugo realized they referred to his thunderclap. He bowed his head guiltily. “I think that was the ceiling collapsing.”

  Principal Walker soon arrived with the school nurse, both overwhelmed and soaked. The librarian explained what happened. The nurse started examining almost two dozen students huddled in a drenched, hazy hallway.

  “It’s a miracle you all survived,” the principal remarked.

  Marshal, a lanky Korean boy with shaved hair, nodded. “Felt like I got picked up and thrown.”

  Several students voiced similar experiences. Hugo shrank back, not at everyone’s near-identical tales of survival but at those he couldn’t save. “Not everyone escaped."

  That hushed the others. “What?” Principal Walker exclaimed. Mr. Proctor and the librarians watched him.

  A female student yelped.

  “Who else was in there?” another classmate inquired.

  Heat flooded Hugo’s face as all eyes studied him. “The bomber…and another female student.”

  A chorus of sorrow filled the halls. The nurse gasped but kept checking the students. Mr. Proctor seemed to deflate. Both librarians openly wept. Brie shook from violent coughs, dazed but alive. It was a small mercy.

  Principal Walker placed a sympathetic hand on Hugo’s shoulder. Sorrow etched his weathered face. Hugo couldn’t imagine how gut-wrenching this was for him, tasked with leading Paso High and protecting its students. “I’m sorry, son,” Walker said, his voice gravelly.

  Hugo nodded, recalling the suicide bomber’s repeated apologies. The fire alarms abruptly stopped, providing some quiet. Hugo listened around campus. Almost everyone else had been evacuated. Good. He breathed easier knowing that. “Wasn’t the bomber's fault.”

  “How?” Mr. Proctor demanded, pushing sodden hair from his face.

  “Hugo’s right,” one librarian countered. “He said someone made him do it. Can’t remember the name.” She snapped her fingers to try remembering.

  “Mister Quiet,” Hugo growled, the name etched into his memory.

  Another student perked up as the nurse examined him. “Yeah. Mister Quiet.”

  “Is he behind the other bombings?” Marshall added, prompting panicky student discussions.

  Principal Walker ended the rampant speculation with a sharp whistle. “The ambulances are on their way.” He raised both hands in a mollifying manner. “We’ll get you kids to safety.”

  Once the ambulances arrived, the next few hours were a blur.

  Hugo remembered stepping outside and taking in the blasted ruin of the library building. Pillars of smoke curled up into the blue skies. Hugo was surprised how many students got injured, all from library-adjacent classrooms. Some were bloodied. Others had broken limbs. Brie fainted again and was carted away on a gurney. Witnessing all this damage left Hugo seething, unforgiving.

  Mister Quiet did this. “I’m gonna find you,” he quietly promised when escorted to an ambulance.

  On the ride to San Miguel General Hospital, Hugo had to fight off EMT attempts to examine him. Any slipup could expose him as a super. “My mom’s a nurse,” he explained. “With hospital credentials. I’d rather she examines me.”

  The EMTs eventually relented and backed off.

  Quinn texted him within half an hour on his superhero cellphone.

  Quinn: OMG. Are you okay?

  Hugo smiled.

  ME: I’m fine. Got my bell rung. At hospital. It was the suicide bombing guy. Calls himself Mister Quiet.

  Hugo speed-texted the name furiously, nearly cracking his cellphone screen.

  Quinn: I’ll get whatever info I can on this Mister Quiet and his liger. Glad you’re ok.”

  After reaching the hospital, Hugo had spoken with San Miguel PD since he’d seen the bomber. His counselor, Mrs. DeWitt, sat with him in the hospital lobby, which he appreciated. With his clothes trashed, the hospital had provided sweatpants and a hoodie. Hugo stuck to his original story: he and Brie were in the back of the library. A bookshelf protected them from the brunt of the blast. Brie had pulled him back, saving his life. Mostly a lie, but Hugo had improved at strategic falsehoods thanks to his training. “He said Mister Quiet made him do this.” Hugo recalled the boy’s fear before the explosion had…consumed him. Hugo was barely holding back a reservoir of emotion.

  Mrs. DeWitt dotingly rubbed his shoulders. By her red eyes, she’d been crying.

  “Thank you, Hugo,” the detective stated, a fleshy man in plain clothes with a pockmarked face and short, ash-blond hair. He passed Hugo his card. “I know today’s been rough. But if you recall anything, call me.”

  The lobby was packed with students and teachers and parents, making it hard for Hugo to concentrate. He wandered into room 208A, where Brie slept. Auburn hair pooled perfectly around her perfect face, cleaned with the cut on her cheek bandaged. According to her doctor, Brie had a concussion and bruised ribs but should wake up soon. Hugo sat and watched her sleep, emotions about everything churning within. What would he say when she woke up? And would he have saved Brie if he’d gotten a do-over? Hugo had run that last question through his brain a hundred times. And kept reaching the same choice. What does that even mean?

  A buzzing from his regular cellphone saved Hugo from answering.

  Marshmallow: Please, please answer.

  Hugo smirked, glancing at Brie before texting back.

  ME: So we’re talking again?

  Marshmallow: THANK GOD!! Are you okay?

  ME: Yea. At hospital with Brie. Second Floor.

  Marshmallow: We’re coming.

  Hugo’s second cell rang, forcing him to s
lip outside. “Hey,” he replied, phone pressed to his ear.

  “Are you hurt?” Ms. Ortiz asked with noticeable concern.

  “I’m fine.” Hugo did feel okay now, thanks to his handy healing factor. He gave his mentor a summary of events. “The bomber and another girl…” Hugo’s eyes itched. “I couldn’t save them.”

  “Bogie,” Ms. Ortiz replied quietly. “Sometimes you can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try.”

  Hugo opened his mouth angrily at her insensitivity. He caught himself, realizing she spoke from experience. “I gotta find this Quiet Man,” Hugo declared, but his conviction wavered. He had no clue where to start. “Him, his liger and the students he kidnapped.” Three more students who could kill hundreds.

  “We will,” Ms. Ortiz stated with confidence. “Talk to Geist’s hacker. Clint can probably find footage from where these kids got kidnapped.”

  Immediately Hugo felt assured. “Thanks.” He caught three familiar footsteps marching around a corridor. “Family’s here.”

  When he hung up, Mom, AJ, and Uncle Sione came into view. They beelined for Hugo.

  “Hey,” he greeted as casually as possible, embraced in his family’s love. Hugo readily hugged them back.

  “Bogota…” Mom exclaimed, arms around his waist.

  “Are you hurt?” AJ asked, embracing Hugo from behind. Glancing over his shoulder revealed his brother's pale and worried face.

  Hugo shrugged. “Been better.” He’d been waiting for Mom to show up so he could get discharged. The sooner that happened, the sooner Hugo could go find this Mister Quiet motherfucker.

  Sione cupped Hugo’s cheek, inspecting him with fatherly warmth. “What happened?”

  But with Sione present, Hugo had to recite the false story again.

  “Good lord!” Mom sounded sick, leaning on a wall for support.

  Sione’s rough-hewn face darkened. “A psycho is kidnapping kids, making them suicide bombers.” He shook his long curls. “Disgusting…”