Wanted: A Superhero to Save the World by Bryan Davis
Gilbert operated the tank like an assault vehicle, shoving cars out of the way and even driving overtop a few. We stopped at our apartment to use the bathroom and grab a bottle of water for each of us before hurrying on.
When we passed by Magruder’s and the triage unit, I peered into the tent area. Milligan sat on an examination table while Dr. Ross pulled a needle and thread, stitching a cut on his cheek.
Milligan’s eyes widened. He tried to get up, but the doctor pushed him back down, saying something inaudible.
We continued into the downtown area until we stopped near the edge of the gorge where I found Sam earlier. The lengthy journey helped a lot. The swelling from the scorpion sting lessened, though it still hurt, and Sam had time to strip off the rest of the spider silk.
I looked again at my watch — 3:17 p.m. Only forty-three minutes to go.
After we climbed down, Mom got out of the tank and joined us at ground level, still wearing the backpack that carried my superhero generator. Holding Prince Edward, Gilbert stood atop the tank and looked around while rotating in place. “The city has been devastated, demolished, and …”
“Destroyed?” I offered.
“Definitely.”
I attached my spool’s claw to an iron bar embedded in broken pavement and reeled out some line. When I was ready, I looked at Mom. “I don’t think you and Gilbert can come with us.”
She nodded, tears sparkling in her sad silvery eyes. “I’m okay with that. You and Sam are the superheroes.” She kissed my forehead, then Sam’s. “I know you can do this.”
Warmth spread across my skin. That was the best compliment I could ever ask for. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Should we just stand here and wait for you to come back?”
I looked toward the Stellar building, now just a ragged shell about a quarter as tall as before. “See if you can drive the tank to the Stellar and find Graham. Maybe hide close by and see what he’s up to. When we stop the quake, we’ll come back and find you.”
Mom crossed her arms, fidgeting. “Okay. We’ll be waiting.”
“Unhook the claw when we get to the bottom. All right? This one doesn’t have an automatic release.”
“Will do.”
I looked down into the gorge. Water no longer fell into the depths. Someone had probably shut off the hydrant’s feeder valve. In any case, Sam couldn’t jump that far without risking another injury, and she didn’t know how to rappel.
I took off my backpack, handed it to her, and crouched. “Ready to ride down?”
“Yeppers.” She climbed onto my back and raised a fist. “Let’s put the brakes on the quake.”
Chapter 22
When Carrying a Superhero on Your Back,
Don’t Tell Her that She’s Heavy
With Sam on my back, I let out spool line and descended into the gorge. Her weight pulled against my shoulders, making them ache. Sweat moistened my shirt. Each time I pushed against the rock with my legs, I grunted.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Just tired. Not enough sleep. And you’re not exactly a feather.”
“Sorry. I’m super strong now. I could’ve jumped down like I jumped up before.”
“Last time you nearly broke your ankles. But it’s all right. We’re almost there.”
When we reached bottom, she leaped down and bounced on her toes. “I still feel good.”
“Has your strength worn off at all?”
“Maybe a little.”
I nodded. “Gilbert said it would be gradual. Let’s hope it lasts.” When Mom released the claw, I reeled the line into the spool while Sam helped me put my backpack on.
Although the sun shone into the gorge, daylight wouldn’t be able to follow us underground. I unhooked the flashlight and aimed the beam into the tunnel as we walked in. I trained my ears for any noise ahead, but all was quiet, no sound from the generator.
Half walking and half skipping at my side, Sam looked up at me. “How do we know that old Turnip Head won’t be there waiting for us?”
“Because he doesn’t know that we know where the transmitter is.”
“But what if we don’t know that he knows that we know where the transmitter is?”
“How could he know that?”
“Because he knows that we know we wouldn’t be going back to Nirvana unless we know where it is.”
“But he doesn’t know that we know that Damocles is dead. He thinks he knows that we know Damocles is the only person who can stop the earthquake, so he thinks that we think we’re going to Nirvana to find him.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
“I hope so.”
After a few minutes, the beam landed on the sofa, now sitting in darkness. A quick sweep of light from wall to wall revealed no one in the chamber.
We walked together to the hole and peered into it. The depths seemed to swallow the light, giving no hint about the mysteries that lay below.
I found a pebble and dropped it into the hole while looking at my watch. When it struck bottom and the click reached my ears, I calculated the distance, taking into account the time it took for the sound to return. “It’s about eighty feet down.”
“How long is your line?”
I touched the spool on my belt. “This one belonged to Damocles, so I’m not sure. My spools are a hundred, so his are probably at least that long. We should be fine.” I reeled out the spool’s claw and searched for a place to attach it. “Ready to ride on my back again?”
She shook her head. “It’s too far down. You’ll get tired. I should climb on my own.”
“I know you’re strong enough, but it takes practice. I’ve done it a hundred times.”
“And I watched you lots of times. Let me try. You go first, then I’ll pull up the line and go next.”
“But you don’t have a belt.”
“Then send the belt up, too.”
“And leave you alone up here? Uh-uh. Not a chance. And I can’t let you go first, because then you’d be down there by yourself. That would be even worse.”
Sam crossed her arms in her I’ve-made-up-my-mind-to-be-as-stubborn-as-a-concrete-mule pose. “I’m not gonna ride on your back again. You’re already too tired.”
“All right. No time to argue. You wear the belt and go first. With the spool attached, it’s safer than riding on my back anyway. It has an automatic brake if the line spins out too fast. I’ll rappel right above you so you won’t be alone.”
I attached the claw to the generator, but when I tested my weight against it, it dragged. Sam and I heaved it onto the sofa, then I attached the claw to the sofa’s leg. The combined weight proved to be enough of an anchor.
After fastening the belt to Sam’s waist and showing her how to use the spool mechanism, I gave her the flashlight and whispered, “Let’s stay quiet until I say otherwise.”
While I put my gloves on, she set her feet against the hole’s edge, leaned over the opening, and lowered herself, letting line out as she walked backwards down the hole’s wall.
I copied her actions, my hands holding the line above her. Below, a dim red glow appeared and disappeared, as if blinking.
When Sam reached bottom, she whispered, “That was easy.”
“Shhh.” Following Sam’s waving flashlight beam, I touched down. After readjusting my backpack straps, I took the flashlight and scanned the area — an enormous dugout chamber. A few steps away, a cubic box about the size of a basketball sat on the rocky floor. On top, a line of digits flashed red, changing every second — 00:16:14, 00:16:13, 00:16:12.
Beyond the box, a tunnel ran out of sight in an upward slope, probably the way the magna-gopher exited this place, but where on the surface did it come out? Maybe Mom and Gilbert would see it up there.
Sam whispered, “Is
“I think so.”
“Maybe we can just carry it out of here.”
“Let’s see how heavy it is.” I crouched, slid my hands under the box, and lifted, using my legs to help. The unit stayed put. As Gilbert had said, it was anchored, maybe by concrete slabs buried underneath it.
“Let me try.” Sam went through the same motions to no avail.
I dug the spare remote out of my pocket and flipped the switch both ways. The timer marched on, now well under sixteen minutes. “Maybe you can tear it apart with your super —”
Something squealed, like spool line shooting out at hyper speed.
Sam screamed, “Eddie!”
She lifted off the floor. I dropped the flashlight and remote, leaped, and threw my arms around her waist. As we rose together, I felt for the spool on the belt. By the time I found it, we had risen too high. If I detached it now, we would fall to our deaths.
Sam growled. “It must be Turnip Head.”
“Just stay calm. We’ll figure something out.”
Above, light appeared at the top of the hole, and the sound of an engine drifted down. Mephisto must have restarted the generator and turned on the lamp.
When we rose into the upper room, Mephisto slung the line down, throwing us to the floor. “Now you will be the ones to suffer.” His face gouged and bloodied, he displayed a pair of handcuffs and lunged toward Sam.
I jumped up and plowed into him with both fists, aiming at his injured shoulder, but his backhanded slap sent me flying to a wall. I slammed into it butt first, bounced, and rolled up to hands and knees.
Every limb trembling, I crawled toward Sam. My spine tingled. My head pounded. The entire world spun. I would never get there in time to help.
As he put the cuffs on her, she fought like a wild horse, bucking and flailing. Both she and Mephisto seemed to be tiring. The superpower charge was wearing off.
Finally, Mephisto pushed Sam against a wall a few steps from me, snapped the cuffs on her wrists, and stepped away. Electricity shot across the chain between the cuffs. She arched her back against the wall, wincing and whimpering.
With each wince, I winced with her. Her pain tore into my gut. I had to stop the torture. But how?
Mephisto turned toward me. Sweat glistened on his forehead in the glow of the floor-standing lamp. He spoke through halting gasps. “Now perhaps you … will be persuaded to give me the superhero device. Once I have it … I will stop the transmitter’s countdown, but I will take the remote with me. If you try to follow … I will restart the clock.”
He took a deep breath, settling his voice. “The time it takes you to release your sister will be enough for me to get away.”
I struggled to my feet on shaky legs and glanced at my watch — 3:49 p.m. Only eleven minutes to go.
“To further incentivize you,” Mephisto continued, “Lamar dug a hole with my magna-gopher, and your mother and Gilbert are at the bottom. If anything goes wrong here, Lamar will bury them alive. I’m in touch with him by radio, so I can order their executions in two seconds.”
I concealed a swallow. Lamar was a moron. He probably didn’t look inside Mom’s backpack for the superhero device.
I crossed my arms and clenched my gloved hands, taking on what I hoped was a brave-looking pose. “Your superpowers are almost gone.”
“I know, but I’m more than a match for you even without superpowers.” He unclipped a radio from his belt and raised it to his lips. “Now shall I order your mother’s execution, or will you tell me where your invention is?”
Sam moaned, her eyes tightly shut and her teeth gnashing. I couldn’t let this continue for another second. “Let Sam go, and I’ll tell you. Or put me in the cuffs instead. Just stop torturing an innocent little girl.”
“Attempts to shame me won’t save your mother.” He walked close to me and produced a tiny key from a pocket. “All right. You can take Sam’s place, and you’ll stay in the cuffs until you give me what I want.”
I snatched the key and lunged to Sam. With quick moves, I unlocked the cuffs and threw them at Mephisto, my gloves keeping the shocking jolts at a minimum.
As we sat together, Sam slid her arms around my neck and sobbed. “Oh, Eddie. Thank you. You’re a real superhero.”
“Your turn to wear them,” Mephisto said as he bent over and picked up the cuffs.
Sam unzipped my backpack, her sobs masking the sound.
“What are you doing?” Mephisto grabbed Sam’s arm and shoved her to the side. “What are you hiding in that backpack?”
I sighed. Mastix was still in there. No use trying to hide it. It wouldn’t work for him. “See for yourself.” Still sitting close to Sam, I shrugged the pack down, slid the straps from my arms, and extended a strap toward him.
He snatched the pack away and looked inside. “A sandwich?”
Sam hugged her knees against her legs and pouted. “Being a superhero made me hungry. I was trying to get it.”
The urge to feel behind my back nearly overwhelmed me. Had Sam hidden Mastix there?
Mephisto pulled the smashed sandwich out and threw it at Sam. “Stupid kid.”
While he was distracted, I lifted my bottom and slid back. Mastix now lay between my legs. But would it work? I closed the gap to hide it and looked at my watch. Five minutes to go.
Mephisto stooped and slapped the cuffs on my wrists. When they snapped in place, he took the key and my gloves and stuffed them into his pocket as he stepped back.
The cuffs lit up. Shocks rocketed up my arms, into my brain, and down my spine. Pain — horrible, torturing pain — ripped through my body from head to toe. My limbs stiffened. I couldn’t move my legs or arms to reach for Mastix.
Mephisto roared at Sam, “Where is the superhero generator?”
She glanced at me with tear-filled eyes. I couldn’t tell her what to do. I could barely breathe.
Firming her lips, she got up, set her fists on her hips, and glared at Mephisto. “My mother has it, Turnip Head.”
“Little twerp.” He backhanded her across the cheek. She toppled to her side and braced herself with a hand on the floor.
I choked out, “Coward.”
“The slap was for the lie. I want the truth.”
Grimacing, Sam held a hand over her cheek. “I’m telling the truth. Our mother has it.”
“We’ll see about that.” Mephisto raised the radio, pressed a button, and spoke into it. “Lamar, the kids say their Mom has the superhero invention. Have you seen it?”
While he listened to the answer, I forced my stiff legs apart, revealing Mastix. I lowered my trembling arms toward it. Even if I could grab it, would it work? Would it finally recognize me as a superhero? It was our only hope, but the shocks were rattling my brain. At any second, they might knock me out.
“What do you mean they escaped?” Mephisto yelled. “How could they escape?”
I whispered to Sam, “Help me.”
As she edged toward me, Mephisto barked into the radio. “Catch them and kill them. Then get the device and start the chopper. I’ll meet you there.” He refastened the radio to his belt and looked at me.
Sam halted, her arms stiff at her sides.
“Your invention is obviously not here,” Mephisto said. “If your mother really has it, it will be mine in mere moments.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Sam asked.
“Since you’re still strong, it might take a while to kill you. I’ll just leave you here to die, buried by the earthquake.”
Chapter 23
Are Wishing Wells for Real?
Sam leaped to me, grabbed Mastix, and put it in my hands. The thongs brightened. I whipped them toward Mephisto. Each thong shot out a shimmering bolt. The bolts surrounded him with an electric web that trapped him in place. He spread h
Still jolted by the cuffs, I hissed, “Get the key.”
“But he put it in his pants pocket,” Sam said. “I can’t get through all that electricity, can I?”
I lowered Mastix and willed the bolts to stop. When they died away, Mephisto collapsed.
Sam jumped to him, fished the key from his pocket, and hurried back to me. She unlocked the cuffs and helped me get them off.
Sizzles invaded my ears. My eyes burned. But I couldn’t let the fiery pain stop me. I transferred the gadgets belt from Sam’s waist to mine, then fastened Mastix to it. The line we used earlier was still attached to the belt spool. No need to reel it in.
I tried to look at my watch, but a fuzzy glaze coated everything. “Does it say three-fifty-seven?”
Sam squinted at it. “Yep.”
“Three minutes to go.” I set the readout to show the minutes and seconds till four p.m. The blurry digits showed 2:51 … 2:50 … 2:49. “Let’s get down to the transmitter. Maybe I can destroy it with Mastix.”
Sam helped me to my feet. “What about Mom and Gilbert? Lamar’s going to try to kill them.”
“We’ll see about that.” I ripped the radio from Mephisto’s belt. “See if you can find the remote.”
While Sam dug through his pockets, I held the radio to my lips, pressed the talk button, and spoke with a low, gravelly voice. “Lamar, did you kill those two yet?”
“Boss, are you all right? You sound strange.”
“No time for explanations, you fool. Just answer the question.”
“I got ’em trapped. I was just about to bury them with the gopher.”
My throat narrowed. I couldn’t keep my voice low. “Leave them and pick me up in the chopper. We have less than three minutes left.”
“Hey, you’re not Graham. Who is this?”
“Your worst nightmare.” I tossed the radio to the sofa. Did I help Mom and Gilbert at all? Or did I make things worse?