A Once Crowded Sky (27 page)

You’re the hero. Save the day.

Ultimate flew away and left Pen with something, something intended to be permanent. Pen had once assumed it was a way of life, a path to heroism. But that’s just a stupid story. All The Man With The Metal Face left were wires, stringy, programmed wires meant to do certain, specific jobs, to make Pen stronger, faster, able to dodge bullets, catch onto fire escapes, to win. Just wires, threaded through body and brain. That’s what was left behind. Just wires.

A few whimpers. A cry. And it’s not much anymore.

Pen pictures the wires: strung through his muscles and bones, ringing and humming, pumping into his heart, pouring power into every vein and artery. The Blue would’ve stopped them, but they remain, and he’s nothing but them now; it’s the only legacy he has. Just wires.

Pen can’t move. He’s too hurt to move. He’s not enough of a hero to move. And his wife’s whimpers finally stop. And Pen listens to the quiet, and he can’t move, and he knows he has nothing but wires, wires, just wires and wires and wires, all wires, yards and yards, miles and miles, years and years of wires.

And though Pen can’t move, though he fails now as he fails always, the wires Ultimate strung force open Pen’s eyes. And Pen sees Ultimate, sees his wife beneath the metal, and Pen can’t move, and the wires stand Pen up, and the wires hum through flesh, pushing out pain, pushing Pen forward, and the wires rush Pen forward, and the wires hum, and his heart
pounds metal into metal, and Pen rushes forward, throws his body into Ultimate, throws The Man With The Metal Face back so that he trips on his cape and falls back onto the floor that Pen and Anna built their home upon.

And then, from their hallway, the clicks of rounds being chambered—each touch of metal against metal sounding out alone: the pull of the rack; the spring of cartridge; the gold brass touched and yanked; the bullets plinking as they settle down again.

His wife’s hurt. She’s dying. Pen presses against the floor, trying to get up, but his sweaty fingers tangle and slide, and once again he falls.

“Nobody move!” Star-Knight shouts as he charges into the room, gun in hand; and both Pen and Ultimate move as bullets fly.

3

The Soldier of Freedom #527

Soldier lies on the ground and looks up. Above him, Runt and Prophetier face off, each holding his gun steady. Prophetier smiles, and Runt pulls back the trigger. Soldier lurches up, grabs the kid’s hand, drags it down. “It’s done,” he says.

“Dude,” Runt says, his eyes flashing between Soldier and Prophetier. “Dude!”

“He ain’t firing,” Soldier says. “You ain’t firing. It’s done.”

“Look, I have to protect you, DG said I have to protect you, that you see her, and this guy shot you, and I have the gun, your gun, she gave it to me, and I have to protect you!”

“Calm down, kid,” Soldier says. “It’s a scratch. He could’ve done worse.”

“He’s right,” Prophetier says. “I could’ve done worse. I’ll still do worse.” Prophetier laughs, points his weapon at Runt. “Let’s go. Let’s fight.”

“I came here to talk,” Soldier says. “I don’t want to goddamn fight.”

All three men palm their guns, waiting for someone else to make the move. Long seconds pass, and it all becomes as silly as it always is.

“Well, okay,” Prophetier says, lowering his weapon. “Let’s talk. This was hardly a great battle, but it’ll have to do.”

“Fine,” Soldier says. “That’s fine.”

“So come on in,” Prophetier says. “I think I have something to show you.” Prophetier turns and heads back into his house, leaving the door open behind him.

“Shouldn’t we be shooting each other?” Runt asks.

Soldier bends over and coughs hard. When he’s done, he straightens up and takes Runt’s gun out of the boy’s hand. Carolina, left behind in a field a few weeks back. Soldier holsters his weapons and follows Prophetier inside.

“I don’t get this,” Runt says, staying a few steps behind Soldier. “Shouldn’t we be fighting?” Runt looks down at his fingers as he walks, seems to count them. “Not that I get why we were fighting, really. I mean, aren’t we all like the good guys?”

“Good guys fight,” Prophetier says, sitting down on a couch in his living room. Scattered at his feet are dozens of notebooks. “We fight first. Then we talk. We explain the plot. It’s how it works. That’s the rule.”

Soldier stops, stands above Prophetier, and Runt bumps into his back. Soldier tips forward, but he gets his balance before he falls. He looks back at the boy and scowls.

“We fought,” Prophetier says. “Now I tell you how to come back.”

Soldier takes a blanket off the couch and puts the edge of it in his teeth. He rips off a strip of fabric and presses the material against his cheek, feels the blood soak in. The cut ain’t deep; it’ll heal. “There’s no way back,” he says.

“Back?” Runt asks. “Not sure I get that either.”

“We all come back,” Prophetier says as he reaches into his pocket, produces a cigarette, and lights up. “I know. I wrote it down.” Covered in new smoke, he starts to shuffle through the notebooks scattered across the floor.

Runt scrunches his face together. “Still not getting it, not that anyone cares.”

Prophetier opens a notebook and traces his finger down the page.
He smiles, and he tosses the open notebook across the floor. Soldier bends down and reads:

“I don’t know what that’s about,” Soldier says.

Runt kneels down beside Soldier. “What is it? Is this supposed to be the future? Is this your power?”

Prophetier pushes some smoke into the air. “Turn the page.”

Runt flips the page and reads:

Runt reels from the notebook and stands upright. “Cool,” he whispers, and he bends over again, starts to thumb through the pages.

“We all come back,” Prophetier says. “It’s been written.”

“Look at this!” Runt shouts. “Me and DG get married!”

Soldier stands back up. He throws the bloody slice of blanket at the floor and touches his fingers to his cheek. “We ain’t coming back.”

“And over here he writes I’d get a C in calc. I totally got a C. Man, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have studied, not that I did, but anyway, I wouldn’t have felt, y’know, guilty about it.”

Prophetier strokes some puffs from his cigarette as he eyes Soldier. “I can’t believe I got to shoot you.” He laughs. “The Soldier of Freedom. Amazing.”

“You ain’t making much sense.”

Prophetier laughs. “Exactly. These things don’t make sense. How heroes always have to fight each other before getting their big reveal.”

“I’m like the star of a whole section here!” Runt shouts. “ ‘The Adventures of Runt’! How cool is that?”

“It’s all so wonderfully absurd,” Prophetier says.

“Wait, wait!” Runt raises his voice without looking up from the page. “You still have access to this future thing. You still actually have an actual real power?”

“I have some answers,” Prophetier says.

“And when you said ‘back’ before, you mean like get our powers back?” Runt begins flipping through page after page. “And if, I mean, if we get the powers back, that means, I mean, everyone knows once you have powers, no one dies. The villains, Survivor, my dad, my family—are they coming back?”

“There ain’t no way back,” Soldier says.

“We all come back,” Prophetier says. “Isn’t that right, Runt, isn’t that another rule?”

“There ain’t no way back,” Soldier repeats.

“There’s a way,” Prophetier says as Soldier squeezes and releases his grip on his gun.

“Well, what the fudge is it?” Runt shouts, and both men look over at him.

Prophetier takes the butt from his mouth and lights another with it. “It’s gone. He stole it, my record of it. I wrote so much, I don’t remember exactly how.”

“What?” Runt asks. “Who stole it? Who stole what?”

Prophetier looks up at Soldier, nibbles on a flake of tobacco at the edge of his tongue. “He said he’d kill me if I told. If I even tried to dig it up, he said he’d kill me. You saw how they treated me at the graves, Soldier.”

“Who’ll kill you if you don’t tell?” Runt shouts. “Hey-hey, if you don’t tell me,
I’ll
kill you! And if I don’t, I’ll get DG, and she really will kill you.”

Prophetier looks at Soldier and smiles.

“Who stole it!” Runt shouts.

“Star-Knight,” Prophetier says. “Star-Knight knows. The way to get the powers back. He stole the book from me. I suppose I can say it now, it’s out anyway, right, Soldier? Isn’t that the trail you’ve been following? Ain’t that right, Soldier?” Prophetier mimics Soldier’s drawl.

“Star-Knight has the way back?” Runt’s cheeks leap as he talks. “This is insane. What do we need to do?”

“What can we do?” Prophetier asks. “Star-Knight’s too powerful now, all those people protecting him. All that money he’s earned. None of us could do anything. None of us have power. Ain’t that right too, Soldier?”

Soldier starts to say something, but is interrupted by Runt’s yelp. “No, wait! Pen! Pen could do it! Pen has powers!”

“Stop with that nonsense,” Soldier says.

“No, no, it’s not nonsense. DG’s seen it. He’s good, again, not all afraid, at least not all the time Pencil Dick afraid. Seriously, we could get Pen. Pen could take down Star-Knight and get Prophetier’s stolen book. And then we’d know how to get back!”

“Another fight,” Prophetier says. “Another revelation.”

“So is that it?” Runt’s voice is desperate. “Pen can get the powers back?”

Prophetier uses his lips to jiggle the cigarette in his mouth, and ash sprays from the tip. “Pen could work.”

“It ain’t coming back,” Soldier says. “I don’t care what any damn book says.”

Prophetier looks up at Soldier. “I was right about Mashallah,” Prophetier says, his voice rising. “I was right about you being too weak to stop it. I’m always right.”

“Guys, I think we need to focus here,” Runt says.

“It ain’t coming goddamn back.”

Prophetier keeps his eyes on Soldier. “I know it’s hard. I know what you did to end it. But what choice is there now?”

“Focus?” Runt asks. “Anyone?”

The cigarette reflects in Prophetier’s dark eyes, a spark of yellow on black. Prophetier smiles. “The boy’s right. Pen will save us now. Thanks to you, Soldier. You’ve shown him how to be a hero, and now he can do it.”

“I’m right?” Runt asks.

“Ignore him,” Soldier says. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“I’m right!”

“Thank you for bringing him.” Prophetier gestures toward Runt. “He’s the perfect one to pass the message. Pen responds to childish pressure. Remember Sicko getting him out to the hospital? How predictable was that?”

“It ain’t coming back,” Soldier says.

Prophetier looks at the books at his feet. “The revelation is over. Star-Knight stole it. Only Pen can retrieve it. It’ll be a mighty adventure.” Prophetier stands, stretches out his arms.

Runt smiles big. “We’re coming back!” he shouts.

“Always.” Prophetier turns to Soldier. “I’m sorry I shot you, Soldier of Freedom. But I think you see it was worth it.” Prophetier snuffs his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “And now, I’m sure you have many things to do. Would you mind if I saw you out?”

Prophetier walks past Soldier and Runt, toward the door. Runt opens his mouth to say something and doesn’t say a thing. Instead, he winks at Soldier, gives him a thumbs-up, then follows Prophetier out.

Soldier means to object again, but he’s just tired of it all, and he follows the two of them. Not looking, he steps right on top of a detached metal cat head. Soldier doesn’t laugh at the insanity of it all, and he kicks the thing to the right and walks on.

Runt heads out, and Prophetier waits at the door, smiling. When Soldier gets up to him, Prophetier nods and then looks confused. He asks Soldier to wait there as he runs in the house and grabs a notebook. He comes back and hands the book to Soldier. “Pen may be distracted, and someone still has to save her.”

Soldier starts to say something, and Prophetier closes the door. Soldier waits a few seconds before tucking the book under his arm and walking down to the street.

When Soldier gets to his truck, Runt’s already at the curb, talking on his cell with DG, replaying the day’s events. Soldier should stop him, but he doesn’t, and Runt flips the phone closed and takes a deep breath, his face finally settling into a half-contained grin.