Countdown (30 page)

Her glittering compound eyes looked into his. Her slender antennae tilted toward him. “I said
gods,
Jimmy. Plural. You are, I believe, a soul-catcher.”

A what?
he thought.

PUMISE ISIAHB.

“Disaster*," the Queen of the Amazons said gravely. “Do you know where that word comes from? Comets. Falling stars. Ill omens from above.” Hippolyta gazed upon Mary, who nervously endured the queen’s scrutiny. The youthful castaway shivered in the chilly gloom of the cave. “Now you turn up on our shores, claiming that you fell from the sky like Icarus.”

Mary didn’t understand what was happening. She’d expected the female sentries to escort her to the Amazons’ walled city elsewhere on the island, so she was confused to find herself in a murky cavern instead. A jagged stalactite hung above her head like the Sword of Damocles. The spear-wielding sentries ensured her cooperation. Mary’s damp clothes smelled like sea salt. She hugged herself to keep warm.
At least they left the dog tied up outside.

“Tell me, Mary Batson,” Hippolyta continued. “Did you try to fly too high?”

“Y-you know me?” Mary stammered.

The queen nodded. “Our paths have crossed before,” she reminded Mary, “when divine power still coursed through you.” Mary recalled fighting alongside Hippolyta during a big alien invasion a few years back, along with pretty much every other meta-human and magic-user on the planet. She was surprised that the Amazon queen recognized her out of costume.

There was no mistaking Wonder Woman’s legendary mother, though. Her resemblance to Diana was striking. They had the same lustrous black hair, statuesque proportions, and piercing blue eyes. Now those eyes inspected Mary warily.

“I sense that blessing has been rescinded,” Hippolyta stated. “So ... how did you come to merit the gods’ scorn?” Mary blushed and stared sheepishly at the floor. “Jeez, where do I start?” she began. “When I was Mary Marvel, I had a family and a purpose. I felt... special. But then

the power of Shazam was taken away, and I felt so empty and useless and lost.” The guard on her right, the one with the incongruous Gotham City accent, nodded sympathetically. “I would’ve sold my soul to be a hero again ... and I guess I did.”

She spared them the messy details.

‘“Those whom the gods would destroy...’” Hippolyta mused, quoting Euripides. Mary’s explanation seemed to satisfy the older woman; the queen’s voice and expression softened. “But it seems you’ve purged that evil from your body and spirit. I sense within you nothing worse than regret.”

Mary was grateful for Hippolyta’s leniency, even if she wasn’t entirely sure she deserved it.
I’ve got a lot to atone for,
she thought. But that didn’t explain why they were meeting in this spooky cave. “Then why bring me

“Can’t be too careful on this rock nowadays,” the guard from Gotham explained. Orange bangs peeked out from beneath the brow of her Corinthian helmet. “There’s a fake Athena out there, training phony Amazons.”

“Yeah,” her squeaky-voiced comrade confirmed. “It’s like cheerleading camp, only run by Bin Laden.”

Mary blinked in surprise. A fake Athena? Bogus Amazons? It was a lot to take in all at once.
Now what have I got myself mixed up in,
she fretted,
and without any powers to boot?

“We’re going to bring them down,” the first guard declared, “but we need all the help we can get.” Her streetwise blue eyes looked into Mary’s. “You in?”

13 AND COUNTING.

Tears stream, down Jean Loring’s face. She writhes helplessly within the constricting bonds of the heavy canvas straitjacket. Her short black hair is matted and in disarray. Beefy guards haul her toward a waiting cell in Arkham Asylum as she peers frantically back over her shoulder at the man she loves.

“Ray! Don’t let them take me!” Crazed blue eyes plead for mercy. Saliva sprays from her lips. “Don’t do this to 'me! RAY!”
   “

Ray Palmer looks on helplessly as the guards drag his ex-wife away. In happier days, he had often rescued her from all manner of perils, but this time she was beyond saving. Jean had condemned them both to this terrible moment when, unhinged by madness, she had murdered one of their best friends as part of an insane scheme to revive their marriage. Now he can do nothing but watch her join the other dangerous lunatics in Arkham, possibly for the rest of her natural life.

He has never felt so small.

Her desperate shrieks echo in his ears. “Help me! Ray! RAY!”

“Ray?”

Jean gently nudged his shoulder as she woke him from his nightmare. He sat up abruptly in their bed, his body drenched in sweat. Disoriented, it took him a second to remember where he was....

IV! TOWN. EARTH-51.

“Another
bad dream?” Jean asked. Standing beside the bed, she gazed down at him in concern. A purple turtleneck sweater flattered her figure. Her stylishly coifed black hair curled over her shoulders. Silver crescent earrings sparkled in the dim lighting. “You poor thing. Perhaps you should see someone about these recurring nightmares. Maybe that nice Dr. Quinzel at the clinic?”

“After the holidays,” he promised, although he privately doubted that therapy was the answer. How could he explain to a psychiatrist—or to Jean—that these “nightmares” were actually painful memories from another life ... on another Earth? /
just have to put the past behind me,
he thought.
Somehow.

Jean glanced at the atomic clock on the dresser, next to their wedding photo. “Anyway, nap time’s over. You need to get up and get dressed. Our friends will be here soon.”

Right,
Ray remembered.
The Christmas party.
Rising from the bed, he paused to peer out the window at the peaceful suburban neighborhood outside. Snow carpeted their neighbors’ roofs and front yards, although the sidewalks .and driveways had already been shoveled clean. Christmas lights decorated every house in the cul-de-sac. Genuine snowmen shared the lawns with plastic reindeer, elves, and Wise Men. A life-sized replica of Superman, wearing a Santa hat, posed in the large inflatable snow globe occupying the Morrows’ front yard. The kids across the street played fetch with their rambunctious Irish setter, the one that kept harassing the cat next door. Smoke rose from brick chimneys. A glorious winter sunset confirmed it was almost evening.

Gazing out at the tranquil holiday scene, he could
almost
forget that ghastly trip to Arkham. He turned toward Jean, seeing only the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with in the first place, not the mentally disturbed murderer he had left behind two years ago. His throat tightened with emotion. He discreetly wiped a tear from his eye.
I’ve been given a second chance here,
he reminded himself.
Another shot at happiness for both of us.
He shook his head, trying to clear any lingering vestiges of the nightmare from his mind.
I can ’t let it go to waste.

Jean stood in the doorway, watching him. “I’ll be down in« few minutes,” he assured her. “Just give me a chance to straighten up.”

“All right. But don’t be long.” She shot him a teasing smile before exiting the bedroom. “You know how punctual Barry and Iris are these days.”

A hot shower and a change of clothes helped him put his memories of Earth-One behind him, at least for the time being, so that he felt more at home by the time their guests arrived. Ralph and Sue Dibny settled onto the couch beside Iris Allen, while Iris’s husband, Barry, helped himself to a second plate of homemade Christmas cookies. Bright orange flames danced in the fireplace, making the living room warm and cozy. Brightly colored packages were piled high beneath the Christmas tree. Instead of the usual star, the handblown glass ornament atop the tree, a gift from his colleagues at the university, took the form of an atomic symbol. Matching “His” and “Hers” stockings hung from the mantel. Strings of popcorn hung upon the branches of the tree. Bing Crosby crooned softly from the stereo.

“Hey, Barry!” Ralph’s arm stretched across the room to tap the Fastest Man Alive on the shoulder. His wavy red hair matched his garish holiday sweater. “Have you and Iris thought about joining the four of us for New Year’s?” Barry Allen grinned at his friend and former teammate. His blond crewcut was hardly hip, but seemed to suit him. “We’d be delighted, but if I have to sit through another ‘Elongated Man Mystery’ game, I’ll be out the door faster than a photon.”

“Heh!” Ralph’s rubbery nose wiggled. “Understood.” Ray chuckled, enjoying the casual chatter and camaraderie, as he poured himself a mug of eggnog. He tried not to think about the fact that, back on that other Earth, Barry and Sue were both dead, Barry having perished during the original Crisis several years ago, while Sue had been savagely murdered by none other than Jean herself....

But not this Jean,
he reminded himself.
Not here.

“Oh! Check this out,” Jean said, nodding at the TV set in the corner. Plucking the remote from the coffee table, she clicked off the Mute command. “It’s Diana.”

The television, which had been tuned to coverage of tonight’s Christmas celebration in Washington, D.C., flashed up a picture of Wonder Woman in full Amazon regalia. “Even Queen Diana of Paradise Island,” Lois Lane-Kent reported, “is here to wish us all a very happy holiday.” “Would you look at Diana?” Sue sighed. She put down a piece of fudge, apparently having second thoughts about the fattening treat, even though the petite brunette hardly looked like she needed to diet. “I swear that woman never ages.”

The broadcast cut to a shot of Superman descending from the sky above D.C., bearing a truckload of Christmas presents with bright red ribbons. His legendary S-shield was inscribed on every oversized crate.

“There’s Clark,” Barry said. “Still delivering food and toys to the underprivileged like a red and blue St. Nick. Good for him.”

Ray smiled at the TV. “I love it when he dons the old duds. Even if it’s only just once a year.”

On this world, the Justice League of America had disbanded after successfully ridding the world of every major meta-human menace. There were no more super heroes anymore, nor any need for them.

“You ever miss the old days, guys?” Ralph asked the other men. “I still keep my stretchy uniform hanging in the closet. Just for old times’ sake.”

“Just hanging?” his wife teased him good-naturedly. “Fess up, honey. I know you put it on sometimes when you think nobody is looking.”

He smooched her on the cheek. “Only because I know how it turns you on.”

“Oh, Ralph!” Sue elbowed him playfully, her attractive face turning an embarrassed shade of red. “Behave!” Barry sat down beside Iris. “Seriously, I don't mind not being the Flash anymore. The League did what it set out to do. We suited up to make the world a better place, 'spent five exciting years taking down all the bad guys, and ...
presto!
Mission accomplished.”

“Sounds good to me,” Iris agreed. She wore her light brown hair in a fashionable bob. Her green cocktail dress was the color of mistletoe. “At least you’re never late for dinner or anniversaries anymore.” She shook her head at the memory. “Back when you were running around the world, fighting Captain Cold or whoever, you were always late for everything!”

Everyone laughed at the irony of the Flash, of all people, never being on time. Ray took another sip of eggnog.

“You’re right, Barry,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing the League called it quits when we did, at the top of our game.” He savored the happy ending they had all found on this best of all possible worlds. “Who knows? We could have ended up dead or...”

Insane,
he thought, averting his eyes from Jean.

“Oh, Ray.” She came up behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I hate to impose, but the fire seems to be dying down.”

He glanced at the hearth, where the crackling logs did appear to be on their last legs. “Say no more, darling.” He reluctantly disengaged himself from her embrace. “I’m on it.” "    "

Throwing on a jacket, he ventured out into the backyard in search of more firewood. The crisp December weather felt invigorating after the toasty living room. His breath frosted before his lips. The smoky aroma of dozens of active chimneys added a piquant touch to the air. He took a moment to bask in the peace and quiet.

Now, this is living. A relaxing evening at home with lifelong friends, a loving wife, and a warm fire.
He retrieved an armload of logs from a stack by the back porch.
A few more nights like this and those nightmares don’t stand a
—

Then he glimpsed a trio of figures lurking in the shadows just beyond the white picket fence enclosing the backyard. Moonlight reflected off the snow, offering him a murky view of the strangers. One of them was obviously not human....

Despair gripped his heart. The firewood tumbled from his arms. “Oh no.”

He felt numb all over. Unable to face the reckoning upon him, he staggered back indoors and locked the door behind him. His jacket was too warm for inside, but he barely noticed the heat. He wandered back to the living room in a daze.
This can’t be happening,
he thought.
It isn’t fair.
...

“Er, Ray,” Barry commented from the couch. “You kinda forgot the firewood.”

Jean picked up on his distress immediately. “Ray? What is it?” A worried expression came over her face. “You look like it was fifty below out there.”

Oh God, how was he ever going to explain this to her? “I... Jean, I’m so sorry....”

“Sorry?” She rushed to his side. Her warm hand grasped his arm. “I don’t understand. You’re shaking like a leaf....”

He stared into her confused, compassionate eyes. There was no trace of homicidal mania in those captivating blue orbs, only love and concern. His heart broke all over again. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I deluded myself into thinking that I could avoid this, that the past would never catch up with us.”