by R. L. Ullman
Hang on, those aren’t tiny people—they’re real-sized people! Which means we must be hundreds of feet in the air!
I look back at Wind Walker, and notice behind him a gigantic, outstretched hand holding a torch.
No way!
“We’re on top of the freaking Statue of Liberty!”
“Yes,” Wind Walker says. “You desired freedom. This is the first place that came to mind.”
“Strangely,” I say. “that kind of makes sense.”
“Shall I take you home now?”
Home? Now there’s a great question.
Honestly, going home never crossed my mind. While it would be great to have the Freedom Force by my side, there’s so many of them it would ruin any possibility of surprise. Besides, if I told them what I was planning to do, I know they’d try to stop me. So, that pretty much seals the deal.
No home. No family.
I’m going solo.
“No thanks,” I say. “But, I need you to drop me somewhere else. And you’ve got to promise not to tell anybody. Deal?”
Wind Walker gives me a suspicious look. “Deal.”
***
Okay, I’m clearly nuts for doing this again.
Wind Walker’s got me by the arm, dragging me through yet another wormhole of doom. It’s like we’re swimming inside a pitch black washing machine. I feel the space narrowing around us, closing in, while an unrelenting wind blows against our faces.
I’m wiped. This is the longest wormhole I’ve ever been through. It feels like we’ve been traveling forever. Then, without warning, we POP out the other side. Wind Walker lands with the grace of a cat. I hit the ground like a hippopotamus.
“Are you hurt?” Wind Walker asks.
“Just my pride,” I mutter, face down. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“Are you certain about this?” he asks.
I scramble to my feet, my stomach still doing flips. Wind Walker studies my face for signs of weakness, but I’m not breaking. No matter how terrified I am—and believe me, I’m terrified—I’ve got a job to do.
“Very well,” he says. “Remember, you are no longer on your world. Places may appear identical, people may look familiar, but nothing is as it seems. For as long as you remain here, your greatest enemy is yourself. If you lower your guard, even for a second, it could cost you your life.”
I take a deep breath and force a smile. “Okay, okay,” I say. “I’ve got it. I can handle this.”
“I hope so,” Wind Walker says, “Now I must try and solve the riddle of the Blur before it is too late. Good luck, Epic Zero. If you need me, call my name. Hopefully I will be able to return for you.”
“Good luck,” I say, as we shake hands.
“To you, as well,” he says. “Do not forget what I told you.” Then, he steps into a black void and disappears.
I’m alone.
In Keystone City.
On another Earth.
Earth 2.
When I battled on Arena World, I learned that I lived on just one version of Earth. That my reality was only one version of reality and, in fact, there were possibly billions of other realities out there. Wind Walker called them mirror universes. So, while I exist on my world, other versions of me likely exist on other worlds.
At first, it was hard to get my head around that idea—until I met Grace 2 and Mom 2. Then, I realized it was real. There really are mirror universes out there.
And while I may not have the Orb of Oblivion to stop Ravager from destroying my world, I’m pretty sure there’s one person on this world who has another Orb of Oblivion.
Elliott 2.
From what Grace 2 told me about him, he’s not like me at all. He’s evil and supposedly rules his Earth with an iron fist. Plus, he’s blond while my hair is brown which is kind of strange to imagine.
So, my three part plan is simple. First, get to Earth 2. Check—thanks to Wind Walker’s dimension-crossing ability. Second, find Elliott 2 and steal the second Orb of Oblivion. Third, get back to my world in time to prevent Ravager from destroying it.
Seems simple enough. Right?
Wrong, and I know it, but I can’t look back now. Not if I have a shot at saving my Earth.
So, where would I be hanging out if I were an evil version of myself?
Suddenly, I hear the unmistakable rumble of an oncoming car, so I dive behind the nearest hedge. Peeking through the shrubbery, I watch as a camouflaged jeep drives past carrying three costumed goons. That’s weird, those guys looked like the Terror Triplets, a trio of Meta 1 villains on my world. What are they doing casually driving around a nice suburban neighborhood?
But, as I look around from my hiding spot, I realize the neighborhood isn’t nearly as nice as I thought it was. Every house looks abandoned and in need of massive repairs. Windows are smashed. Front doors are kicked in. Roofs have gaping holes. It’s like a war was waged here, and no one bothered cleaning up the mess!
Then, I remember my talks with Grace 2 on Arena World. She told me that with all of the heroes out of the picture, criminal Meta gangs had taken over everything and battled over turf. At the time, I thought that sounded bad, but I never imagined it would be this bad. I mean, there aren’t any people around. And where did all the heroes go?
This is completely depressing. And to top it off, I have no idea what to do next. But one thing I do know is that I can’t sit here.
I wait for the jeep to speed past, and then race across the street as fast as I can. Ducking behind a tree, I catch a street sign dangling loose from its pole. Wait a minute! I’m on High Street. So, that means I’m only a few blocks away from …
The Prop House!
Suddenly, things are looking up! On my world, the Prop House was the fake house we used to travel from the Waystation to Earth and back again. If it’s the same thing here, then maybe I can use the Transporter to find Grace 2 and the Freedom Force and pull this thing off!
I feel strangely giddy booking down the street towards my old home. I reach the end of the road and hang a left. Just a few more blocks to go. This is going to be so much easier than I thought!
Then, I hear footsteps behind me.
Somebody running.
Closing in on me.
I spin around ready for a fight, but to my surprise there’s no one there. That’s weird, I could have sworn I heard something. I shake my head. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time my mind has played tricks on me.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement from high above. I throw myself beneath a burnt-out truck and look up. There’s six Metas soaring high up above. I can’t tell who they are, but, it looks like they’re in a V formation—like they’re on patrol!
I scoot as far beneath the truck as I can, my heart pounding a mile a minute. Hopefully, they didn’t see me. But how could they miss me? I was running down the middle of the street like a bonehead! If I get captured before I can even get inside the Prop House, it’s over.
I wait a few minutes before risking poking my head out. When I finally do, the Flyers are gone. And, even better, I spot the Prop House straight ahead. Seeing it again takes my breath away, but not for the reasons I’d hoped.
The house is leaning hard to the left. The roof is sagging, the door and windows are boarded up, and the posts flanking the front porch are piles of rubble scattered over the patch-work front lawn.
It’s a teardown.
All the air escapes from my happiness balloon.
There’s not going to be any reunion with Grace 2 and the Freedom Force. I’m on my own.
Seeing the Prop House like this is utterly heartbreaking. I think of all the good times we had there. Like when Grace and I hid TechnocRat’s electromagnetic power rods, and accidently shorted out the Waystation. Or when we tracked Dog-Gone’s gravy-stained footprints here after he stole the Thanksgiving turkey. Or when our neighbor called the cops when Dad forgot to take off his mask before mowing the lawn.
Of course, there w
as also plenty of drama. Like the countless times I took the Transporter to school while Grace was off fighting with the Freedom Force. Or when the Worm’s goons broke in and discovered the Waystation. After that, we removed the Transporter and sold the Prop House, but I miss it. In a strange way, it was the only ‘normal’ home I ever had.
Even though it’s hopeless, I’m still itching to look inside. I’m sure the Transporter is long gone, but I’m curious to see if anything was left behind. I mean, we decorated the Prop House with family pictures and other sentimental stuff. Maybe there’s some clue in there I can use to track down Grace 2.
I make sure I’m in the clear, and then break for it. Stepping onto the Prop House’s dilapidated porch, I press my ear against the boarded door. Just as I thought, there’s no noise coming from inside. So, I push hard against the wood, opening a space just large enough to slip inside.
It’s dark.
Instinctively, I reach for the light switch and flick it on. Surprisingly, it works!
And then I get the shock of my life.
The blue sofas, the coffee table, the TV, the pictures. They’re all here. In perfect condition.
But … how can that be?
I walk through the room stunned. It’s an exact replica of my Prop House. Then, I remember …
The full-length mirror. The miniature Statue of Liberty. They’re here!
Is it possible?
I walk over and wrap my hand around the mini figurine when …
“Let go,” commands a deep, voice.
What the—?
I turn to find the silhouette of a large, broad-shouldered man filling the doorframe. A dead rabbit swings freely by its ears in his left hand.
I’m not sure what to do. There’s nowhere to run. And, if I pull the Statue of Liberty, there may not be a Transporter to escape into.
I’m trapped.
Then, he steps into the light. He looks like a mountain man—with dark, scraggly hair and a bushy moustache and beard. He’s wearing a long trench coat that covers his body from his shoulders to his legs.
There’s something oddly familiar about him.
Then I notice his eyes, staring me down.
Blue eyes.
O! M! G!
“D-Dad?” I stammer.
“I don’t know why you came back, Elliott,” he says. “But I’ll tell you this, one of us isn’t leaving here alive!”
I LEARN TO TRUST NO ONE
Dad 2’s about to ground me, but I mean like, bury me six feet under.
“Sorry, son,” he says, tossing the dead rabbit to the floor. “But you’ve had this coming for a long, long time.”
I watch his giant muscles ripple as he removes his trench coat. He thinks I’m his kid, the evil ruler of his world! Somehow, I’ve got to convince him I’m not. Otherwise, I’ll be worse off than that rabbit!
“Listen, Dad—I mean, Captain Justice, I know this will be surprising to hear, but I’m not your son.” I’ve got to think fast. I could wipe his powers, but he’d easily crush me anyway. Plus, that would only convince him I’m exactly who he thinks I am. I need a different approach. Pronto!
“No more games, Elliott,” he says, wiping his long, dark hair out of his face. “I’m tired of your games.”
That’s it! Hair!
“Wait!” I say, pointing to my head. “Look! I’ve got dark hair, just like you.”
“So?” he says. “It won’t stop me from doing what I need to do.”
“No,” I say. “Don’t you get it? Your son has blond hair? I’m not who you think I am. I’m Elliott, but from a different universe.”
This isn’t working! He’s still coming at me! I need another approach!
“I’m friends with your daughter, Grace. And I saved your wife’s life.”
That part stops him cold. I keep going. “The last time I saw her she was a villain. But then I saved her from death and she promised to become a hero again.”
“She what?” he says. “Who are you?”
“I’m a hero, from a mirror universe. I’m here to stop your son, just like you! So please don’t clobber me!”
Dad 2 looks at me, confused. “A mirror universe? TechnocRat talked about it once, but I never thought it was possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible,” I say. “In fact, it’s real. Your world is exactly like mine, but all mixed up. On my world, I’m a hero—a member of the Freedom Force—just like you.”
Suddenly, his face falls. “I’m no hero. Not anymore.”
Then, I remember what Grace 2 told me. That her version of Dad gave up the superhero business after my double took over his planet, outlawed all superheroes, and turned his wife into a supervillain.
“So, do you just hide in here?” I ask. “While all that bad stuff is happening outside.”
He strolls over to the sofa and sits down, his head in his hands. “What else can I do?”
“You can fight!” I say strongly. I can’t believe my ears. Captain Justice 2 is a … coward?
“For what?” he says. “There’s hundreds of Meta villains out there, all of whom would love to make a name for themselves by hauling me in. You think I want to get captured and have you—or my kid, rather—cancel my powers permanently and feed me to the wolves? They’ll lock me up and make an example out of me. Just like they did to Master Mime and Blue Bolt.”
Cancel his powers? What’s he talking about?
“It’s safer in here,” he continues. “Thankfully, I managed to steal TechnocRat’s Distorter before our headquarters was overrun. The Distorter makes the house looks like a disaster on the outside, but inside it’s fine. No one ever thinks to look in here. To survive, all I need to do is hunt for food, and stay out of trouble.”
Did he say headquarters? If I can get to the Freedom Force’s headquarters, then I may be able to find Grace 2.
“You said your headquarters was overrun,” I say. “Can you take me there? Can you take me to the Waystation?”
“Waystation,” he says. “What’s a Waystation?”
“Hang on,” I say shocked. “Do you mean there’s no—” Suddenly, I notice the Statue of Liberty figurine is fading in and out!
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say. Is that the Blur?
He stands up and races over to it. One second the mini-statue is there, the next, it’s gone. He reaches out for it.
“Wait!” I warn. “Don’t touch it. It’s going to vanish. For good.”
Then, as if on cue, it disappears.
“Bring it back!” he cries.
“Relax,” I say. “It’s just a statue. On my world, it took my whole Freedom Ferry.”
“Get out of my way,” he says, bumping me aside. His eyes look crazed, like something’s seriously wrong. He leans over and lifts up the mirror. It must weigh hundreds of pounds, but for him it’s like lifting a tissue box.
“No!” he says, frantically looking inside the empty space behind the mirror. “It’s gone!”
I peek inside. There’s no Transporter. Great. Now I’ve got zero chance of finding Grace 2.
“The Distorter,” he says. “I hid the Distorter in here, behind the mirror. And now it’s gone!”
“Sorry about that,” I say. “But look, I’ve got bigger problems. See, there’s this cosmic alien mist coming to swallow my Earth, so I really need to find your son and get something from him. You wouldn’t happen to know where to find him, would you?”
But he can’t hear me. His face is flush with anger. “It’s your fault the Distorter is gone! It’s your fault I’m going to get caught! You’re going to pay for this!”
I get the sense this is going downhill fast.
He turns, about to drop the mirror and grab me, when—out of nowhere—his trench coat comes flying across the room and drapes over his head.
“Hey!” he yells.
How did that happen?
Then, he’s shoved backwards, filling the empty space behind the mirror. The
giant mirror SLAMS down to the floor, trapping him inside. I don’t know what’s happening, but I know I’ve got seconds to get out of here.
But, before I can move, a German Shepherd appears before my eyes.
“Dog-Gone!”
His tail wags from side to side, and then he takes off, heading out of the Prop House through a large opening he made in the boarded door. I hear Dad 2 yelling something from behind the mirror, but I’m not sticking around to find out what.
I squeeze through the hole and bolt into the front yard. Dog-Gone is way ahead, and I’m huffing to keep up. I’ll tell you one thing, humans may have opposable thumbs, but when it comes to running for your life, I’d take four legs any day of the week.
I glance back at the Prop House, and to my surprise, it no longer looks like a dump. The cherry red door is back. As are the windows, posts, roof and landscaping. Dad 2 was right, that Distorter really worked.
