by C. C. Ekeke
A burly student from Hugo’s class yanked on an emergency exit door handle with no luck. His panicked stare swept the whole library. “These too!”
Terror dominated the library as students shrank away from their fellow student-turned-bomber.
Brie stumbled backward, exclaiming her panic in Greek.
“Mister Quiet made me do it,” the Filipino boy wailed. “I’m sorry!”
Everyone in this library would die, unless Hugo saved them. Amid the screams and pounding on locked doors, his strategy unfolded. Superspeed that kid off campus and rip the bomb off him in time. Which would expose Hugo as a super. The realization chilled him.
But with lives at stake, Hugo had no choice.
Thirteen seconds left…
He stepped out of the aisle to run. Only for Brie to drag him backward by his belt.
Hugo whirled on her, furious. “What the hell?”
Brie looked frightened. “No, Hugo!” She shook her head feverishly, seeming to sense his plan without knowing of his powers.
Seven seconds…
The bomber’s eyes were squeezed shut.
Hugo jerked free from Brie’s grasp.
Three seconds…the bomb detonated early.
Hugo raced forward superfast, the world slowing to a crawl.
Everyone froze mid-panic, mid-flail, mid-scream. Even the small fiery balloon devouring the Filipino boy’s midsection slowed. He was already dead.
Hugo swallowed his horror and focused on the bystanders. From a quick sensory sweep, he counted twenty-three people in the library, including himself and two librarians. Hugo raced around, stacking three girls from class on his shoulders. He remembered his training, decelerating slightly to not injure anyone at superspeed. With a swift kick, he shattered the library entrance apart and tossed the trio out as gently as possible. Hugo whirled and rushed back in. He snatched up two more students, tossing them out the gaping entrance. Too fast to be seen, Hugo ran back and forth, throwing classmates out to safety. Everyone in the hallway seemed to float out as time stopped for them. Under different circumstances, Hugo would’ve found the visual cool.
Meanwhile, a fiery balloon wreathing the Filipino boy’s stomach steadily consumed him. Hugo looped around the glowing orange mushroom incinerating or knocking tables and chairs askew in its path.
Even at superspeed, Hugo’s time was limited before that explosion annihilated the whole library. After tossing the librarians into the hallway, Hugo spotted Brie where he’d left her. The blast’s concussive force threw her backward at a snail’s pace. Decelerating even a little meant Brie’s demise. Hugo raced to her…until another slowed heartbeat registered. He glanced in this other girl's direction, huddled in a book aisle a few rows down.
Fear squeezed Hugo’s chest so tight, he could barely breathe. The brilliant explosion mushroomed unhurriedly yet voraciously toward the book aisles. Hugo saw his choice: save a stranger…or rescue someone who could ruin him. Hugo only had time to save one.
Hating himself, he chose and rocketed forward.
Reaching his choice, Hugo gently wrapped his arms around her. And the inferno walloped him from behind.
He grunted, thrown into the book aisles. In that fraction of a second, Hugo panicked at what multiple collisions could do to the frail body in his arms. He rolled mid-flight, his back taking the brunt as flaming tongues roiled hungrily at him. Hugo’s shoulders finally struck something solid. He slid down the wall, hitting the ground. Gasping for air, Hugo got on all fours and checked his cargo. She sagged in his arms, head lolling back. Hugo panicked. Did I hold too tight? Did she hit something?
The danger wasn’t over. Churning fire charged at Hugo, ripping through wooden aisles like tissue paper.
“Fuck!” He threw himself over her half a second before fiery waves bathed them. Hugo shielded her as best he could. His durable skin could withstand the heat, but it wasn’t comfortable.
The flames soon receded. Hugo pushed up on his elbows and shuddered. The library was destroyed. Hugo found himself trapped between piles of burning books and shattered aisles alight with towering gold flame. Beyond the roaring inferno, Hugo heard alarms blaring and unanimous shock across campus.
Heat radiated everywhere, prickling Hugo’s flesh too close for comfort. It took him a moment to notice flames shooting off the back of his t-shirt.
Hugo bounded up and ripped it off, leaving him shirtless.
He focused on the motionless girl on the ground. Disheveled auburn waves pooled around her soot-stained face. Grime covered her dress also. There were small cuts on her legs and a thin red slash across the cheek. Hugo heard shallow breaths and a heartbeat.
Hugo knelt and cradled her face. “Briseis? Say something.” She moaned, alive but unconscious. His heart ached in relief. Hugo moved to scoop her up, until a cavernous groan caught his ear. Like a giant clearing its throat.
Hugo frowned, looking up as the entire ceiling buckled, collapsing onto him and Briseis with a thunderous roar.
Chapter 25
“Thanks, everyone, for coming,” Missy Magnificent declared from the stage, clutching a microphone. “And your donations.” She looked amazing in a black cocktail dress, sleeveless and low-strapped, dirty-blonde hair teased back.
The event took place at Obispo Hotel in Arroyo Grande, San Miguel’s second largest suburb, hosted by Missy’s charitable foundation. The two-grand-a-person private lunch funded college grants for Junction-based teens. Many of San Miguel’s elite were attending, eager to rub elbows with Missy on her comeback tour. Auctions included dinner with Missy and two of her old Extreme Teens costumes. Missy worked the crowd with stories about the Junction, peppering in jokes and that megawatt smile. “On to our next auction…”
Montgomery Major lingered in front of the stage, Svengali-like, cheering his wife. Colin and Shelley were filming at different positions in the ballroom. Missy and Monty had everyone fooled.
Everyone except Quinn. She hung in the back, arms folded, glaring at the “superhero” onstage. Quinn hated getting deceived. Spending lunch today helping a genuine hero like Hugo angered Quinn more over Missy’s dishonesty. And I thought Tomorrow Man was a fraud.
She hadn’t told anyone about Missy’s staged fights. Aside from being hard to accept, Quinn had zero proof beyond Hugo’s word. Getting evidence had been stymied by that Brahma guy making bail an hour after his arrest.
Quinn had devised another plan to get a potential confession from Missy. It was risky. And it had to happen today. The longer Missy’s deceit continued, the more liable SLOCO Daily could be in spreading it.
Nearby, Jess Richardson-Palmer was snarling displeasure at two interns she’d brought to assist. Despite Jess being pixie-sized, both college seniors trembled before her wrath. “Are you trolling me?” she scolded tartly, holding up a cellphone displaying a blurry, poorly lit picture. “In what alternate universe is this picture useable?”
“None?” offered one intern, a plump biracial girl named Naomi.
“So she does have brain matter between those ears.” Jess shoved the phone into Naomi’s hand. “Now use it to take quality photos for SLOCO Daily’s VIP subscribers. Or else!”
Quinn watched Naomi and the other intern trip over themselves while rushing back into the crowd. By Jess’s satisfied smirk, she clearly enjoyed tormenting interns.
She turned and skipped back to Quinn, shedding her venom like a cloak. Creepy. “How fun is this?” Jess gushed, clutching Quinn’s arm. Jess was dolled up and, by her rosy face, a tad liquored up.
“Mind-blowing,” Quinn offered flatly. Jess had stayed close today, also ordering Colin and Shelley around like some esteemed film director. Quinn needed her gone. But how?
Jess’s hazel eyes bulged at something beyond the reporter. “Look who’s here.”
Quinn turned and cringed. Dave Packer lumbered toward them, red-faced and smiling in his usual white button-down and slacks. That was the last person Quinn needed. “Hi, Packer,” she greet
ed, fighting for calm.
“Quinn.” Packer cast an impressed gaze at the gathering. “Quite a party.”
“Missy can work a crowd,” Quinn replied as the superhero earned laughs from her audience.
Packer nodded distractedly. “Got a moment, Jessica?” His possessive stare curdled Quinn’s stomach. “Some sponsor concerns came up.”
Jess stared up at him with captivated eyes. “Of course.” Packer guided her toward an exit.
Quinn gave a huge sigh. With Jess and Packer occupied, she turned her focus on Missy. The superhero mingled in the crowd, her and Monty charming the socks off an older couple while Colin filmed nearby.
Now or never. Quinn scurried up as Missy and Monty moved to another of San Miguel’s elite.
“Missy.” She put on a friendly smile. “Can we chat off camera? Alone?” Quinn eyed Monty pointedly.
“Of course!” Missy said with her dazzling smile. Once she waved her confused husband away, Quinn led her by the hand to a side exit.
The reporter then secretly clicked her cellphone’s recorder app with her free hand. The hotel bathrooms weren’t private, so she found an empty service closet.
Missy was oblivious and smiling, even when Quinn locked the door behind them. “What’s up?”
Quinn closed her eyes, silently praying for courage. “I need an honest answer from you.”
“Okay.”
Here we go… Quinn opened her eyes, facing Missy. “Are you paying any criminals to lose for you?”
Missy recoiled like she’d been slapped. “What?” Shock became rage. “Is this a sick joke?”
Quinn didn’t shrink from Missy’s retort, getting in her face. “Yes? Or no?”
“No!” The superhero purpled. “Why would you think that?”
Quinn wanted to believe her, but couldn’t after what she’d seen superheroes do to maintain their place. “If you’re lying, I will expose you and ruin you,” she promised, jabbing her finger at Missy.
The threat crumpled Missy’s anger, revealing a frightened teenager. “I’m not paying anyone to lose fights for me!”
“Why didn’t that Brahma guy finish you the other day, Missy?” Quinn didn’t bother staunching her anger. Not when someone had lied to her. “He could’ve ended you. WHY?”
“I don’t know!” Missy stumbled back, tearing up. “I was hungover—”
Quinn rolled her eyes at the excuse. “I read about another of your battles,” she said. “You struggled against human gang members. Take responsibility.”
Missy’s eyes narrowed, her face turning peevish. “You’re not my mother!”
“No,” Quinn threw back. “I'm a journalist covering your so-called comeback, while you’re busy partying.”
The air thickened with tension. Both women glared at each other for a long moment.
Until Missy started to cry. “I know I’m out of shape!” she sobbed. “I nearly lost to a loser I should’ve owned two years ago. God, Monty was right.”
Quinn leaned away from this slipup. “About?”
Missy flapped her hands at her face to regain composure. “I didn’t want to patron the Junction,” she wailed. “I wanted St. Louis after Hurricane died. Or Miami.” Missy wiped her tears with dainty fingers. “But Monty kept saying start small, and a shithole like the Junction proves I’m serious about my career!”
Quinn stepped back and absorbed this. “Protecting the Junction was Monty’s idea?”
Missy nodded feverishly. Despite her power and presence, she looked so fragile and young.
Quinn rubbed the bridge of her nose, sensing an incoming headache. Somehow, she believed Missy. The girl had her demons, but she didn’t come across as a mastermind. Montgomery Major, however, oozed shadiness.
Quinn pressed further. “Were the Junction sponsors his idea too?”
“Yes,” Missy sniffled. “I need to get my career back,” she pleaded. “Be-ing a superhero is my life.” Missy sank to a knee, her body racked with sobs again.
Quinn now felt terrible. Either Missy was a good actor—doubtful from the Extreme Teens films Quinn had researched—or she was Montgomery Major’s pawn. She crouched, taking Missy’s hands in her own. “Some free advice,” she said firmly. “Stop partying. Get in fighting shape. Or you will get yourself or an innocent civilian killed.”
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?” Vise-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 wa
s cracked stone and twisted metal. His hearing detected 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.
