First Superhero 1: The Second Super (2 page)

“The eighteen-year-old Patrick Henry—referred to as
Richter
—is continuing his seventh rampage in New York City,” the news caster said in a voice-over of the shaky footage that showed Richter standing in the middle of the road, picking up cars and throwing them to see how far they could go. He acted like a kid in a candy store.

I watched as each car flew further and further, going until they were tiny dots in the distance.

“Kane, turn that off,” my mom said from the front door entryway next to the living room. “I don’t want to see anybody getting killed.”

“He’s not going to kill anybody, Mom,” I said. “The city’s evacuated. He’s just dicking around.”

“Turn it off and watch your language,” she said, her fiery red hair matching the tone of her voice. She walked out of the room, and I continued watching the news.

On one hand, the fact that I was watching someone with superpowers was cool. On the other, the newscaster’s monologue reminded me why Richter had the entire world in a state of fear and panic.

“All attempts to subdue Richter have been met with failure. The number of lives lost total in the tens of thousands, and those missing easily top that. We are witnessing someone barely out of high school turning the world into his playground, having no regard for the safety and lives of others.”

My stomach twisted. I couldn’t even imagine what Richter’s appearance meant for the future. If no one could bring him down, I didn’t even want to think about how many lives would be lost. All I knew was that for the
immediate
future, the Earth was in gridlock. Always watching for any sign of Richter and the destruction that followed.

“We are getting reports of two high-speed bogeys heading toward Richter’s location. We are getting confirmation that the United States military is launching missiles at Richter. I repeat, missiles launched at New York City, in an attempt to stop Richter.”

My attention turned from my thoughts and back to the television screen. As one of the missiles neared, Richter picked up a green SUV, and threw it at the missile. The car and the missile both exploded on impact, just a few hundred feet from where the guerrilla-style cameramen were positioned, sending them flying backwards.

The camera flipped and rolled, sending images of a burning New York City rolling across the televisions, phones, and computer screens of billions around the globe. The camera settled on a shot of Richter, right before the second missile reached him. He flew toward it, meeting it in the air. He grabbed ahold of it and sent it flying into a building down the street, causing a massive explosion.

The camera moved as the cameraman regained his composure and went back to filming.

Richter’s glowing blue eyes turned straight toward the lens of the camera, looking into the eyes of billions. His brown hair blew in the wind, and he raised his hands as if challenging all those watching. He lowered his hands and jumped into the air. He flew toward the building right behind the cameraman. A sonic boom erupted in the air as he slammed into the building faster than the speed of sound.

The cameraman pointed his camera up, trying to follow Richter, but all the camera could capture was the building beginning to crumble as it collapsed on top of the cameraman.

The feed went black and cut back to the shocked faces of the reporters in the newsroom. I glanced away from the television, looking outside. I regretted not listening to Mom and not turning off the television sooner. My stomach turned, fear gripping it. But then something even more terrifying happened, drilling home the fact that nowhere was safe.

Richter himself flew past the windows of my two-story ranch house at such a high speed that the windows shattered, and I was thrown back to the ground.

Mom let out a scream. “Are you okay?” she shouted. She ran into the living room. She came to my side and helped me up.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I said.

“What was that?” She turned and looked out the window, trying to piece together what happened.

“It was Richter,” I said.

My mother’s face turned white. She wasn’t able to say anything, she was so shocked.

“Don’t worry, he’s probably somewhere in California by now,” I said, answering one of the questions I knew she was going to ask.

“You mean he got from New York to Indiana in
seconds
?”

I nodded.

“Holy shit,” she cursed, which was something she almost never did around me, even though I was a senior in high school and heard things ten times worse every day at school.

The front door to the house burst open, and Dad came running in. “What’s going on? Are you alright?” he said, running over to me.

“Yeah, Dad, we’re fine,” I said. “Richter flew by so fast he shattered the windows.”

My father ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair and then rubbed his deep blue eyes. “This is some B.S.,” he muttered.

“It’ll be alright, Andy,” Mom said in a sweet voice as she placed her arm around her husband’s side. Even though she tried to shrug it off, worry still hung heavy on her face.

Dad sighed again, examining the damage with his tired eyes. “When we moved out here I worried about some punk teenagers messing with us because we were so far out, away from the police. I never thought that punk teenager would have
super
powers.”

This warranted a chuckle out of me, which in turn caused Mom and Dad to begin laughing too. It was so ridiculous that laughing was the only thing we could do. We began to clean up the windows, still chuckling from the shock that our windows had just been blown out by a supervillain.

THE LAST SUPPER

I
FINISHED SENDING
a text to my best friend, Drew, as I walked down the stairs. I ruffled my fingers through my curly brown hair, giving it a messy look that I loved.

“Going somewhere?” Mom asked, based on the way I was walking with purpose.

“Yeah,” I said. “I gotta go to the shelter. I’m meeting Drew there, and we’re gonna help out for a few hours.”

Mom dabbed at the sweat beading on her forehead. “Maybe this summer heat is getting to me, but it sounds to me like you just said you were going out?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Mom, I am. I’ll be fine. Richter is probably on the other side of the world by now.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head with disapproval. “Still, I don’t like it. I’d rather you be safe at home.”

“Yeah, you’re right, this house is Richter-proof, I forgot,” I said as I made my way to the front door. “And this house wouldn’t be so hot if you weren’t so anti-AC!” I said over my shoulder with a teasing smile.

“Air conditioning costs money!” Mom shot back. “And now there’s a nice breeze thanks to Richter,” she said, motioning to the broken windows.”

I chuckled and went outside. I began walking down the sidewalk, but as I walked past the broken windows, Mom stopped me once again.

“Kane,” she said to me from inside. “Just be safe, okay?”

I nodded. “Don’t worry, Mom, alright?”

She nodded her head and I walked to my car. I climbed into my mid-00’s four-door sedan and began the fifteen-minute drive to town.

I
PULLED
into the parking lot of Ebon High School, and walked to the gym. The front of the lot was full, which meant I had to park in the back. I had a long, hot walk ahead of me. The weather had been hotter than usual as of late, which lead to lots of theories about the correlation between the heat and Richter. Most of them were stupid, like his hideout was in the Sun, which explained both why nobody was able to find him and that he was somehow heating up the Sun. The others were just as ridiculous. However, I guess it could’ve been true. I mean, no one’s tried looking in the Sun, so it could’ve very well been possible. I highly doubted it, though.

I thought that once I reached the end of my junior year just a few weeks ago, I wouldn't have to step foot in my high school until the beginning of my senior year. However, thanks to Richter, my summer plans were drastically altered. The gymnasium of the high school had been turned into a shelter for those who took too long to evacuate the cities. The hotel rooms filled up fast, so shelters like ours were the only option. A couple hundred terrified people crammed into a high school gym made for some interesting experiences, that's for sure. It allowed me to meet a lot of interesting people, though, so even though it kinda smelled and most of the people had bad attitudes, it was fun.

“Hey man, you ready to enter the lions’ den?” somebody asked as they came walking up next to me.

I recognized the voice as soon as I heard it. It was that of my best friend, Drew Polar.

“Lions’ den?” I asked as I gave him a fist bump. The two of us walked side-by-side up the sidewalk, the heat of the Indiana summer sun bearing down on us.

“Yeah,” he said. “You didn't see the group text?”

I shook my head as I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone. Displayed on the screen were a dozen group texts between Drew and my other best friend, Michael Teller. I skimmed them, but Drew continued talking, filling me in on the details.

“Yeah, apparently Brian Turner was talking to Macy—”

My blood immediately began boiling.

“—and she told him to leave her alone because she had a headache and wanted to go take a nap. He did, but five minutes later came to her spot and tried talking to her again—while she was laying down trying to sleep!”

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “What an asshole!”

“I know!” Drew agreed.

We reached the gymnasium doors, and pushed them open, blasted by cool air. Our ears were assaulted by the cacophony of voices. It was getting close to dinnertime, so most people were inside, instead of hanging out outside as usual. That meant it also reeked of body odor and was hotter than normal, thanks to all the body heat.

“So how is this like the lions’ den?” I almost had to shout to be heard. I was nervous about Drew's answer.

“Well, you know Brian's best friend Tommy?”

I nodded.

“Well, he told Brian about how Macy's been hanging out with Michael and us, and since Brian’s hated you since you were still in your mother’s womb, he naturally assumes that you and Macy have a thing going on.”

“But we do,” I said as we walked behind the concession stand that now held the night’s dinner instead of the usual candies and hot dogs it did during basketball season.

“Somebody forgot to tell Macy that,” Drew teased as he put on his apron.

I put mine on and rolled my eyes. “You said yourself that she told Michael that she thought I was cute.”

“Yeah, but so does your grandma, and that doesn't mean anything.” Drew grabbed a plate and dumped the night’s meal onto it, which consisted of mac and cheese, green beans, and some chicken nuggets.

“You know what I mean, though,” I told him as I grabbed a plate of my own and began doing the same. We loaded up our plates and put them on the counter where a hungry refugee would come and grab one.

The concession stand was filled with people, and Drew and I had to practically elbow our way back to the end of the line to begin filling up another plate.

“That's not even the issue here, though. The issue is that Brian wants you out of the picture.”

“Brian's always wanted me out of the picture. I can take him if I need to.”

Drew laughed and rolled his eyes but didn't say anything more.

I felt like I could take Brian if I needed to, but you can take almost anyone of any size down with a swift kick to the nuts. If we're talking a “fair” fight, though, Brian would have me whupped. I'm not that scrawny; I try and run at least every other day and hit the weights every once in a while. But I'm definitely not buff by any stretch of the imagination. Brian’s not all that buff, either, though. He's got maybe fifteen pounds on me. He also has years of martial arts experience, however. Like, this dude could break my arms with his eyes.

I wasn't worried, though. Brian had a lot of talk, but since his father was the deputy sheriff, it was mostly just that. Talk. He'd never actually do anything, unless he wanted the punishment of his father to come down on him. And rumor had it, his father showed no preferential treatment, given the black eye Brain showed up to school with every once in a while.

Once Drew and I were finished making plates of food for others, we made two of our own. We walked out onto the crowded gymnasium floor, and scanned the sea of cots for Macy. Her wavy red hair stood out in the crowd, and her bright green eyes met my own, sending waves of happiness shooting through me. We made our way down the line of cots, and sat down on the ground next to hers.

“Hi,” she said with a charming smile.

“Hey,” Drew said as he dug into his mac and cheese.

“Hi,” I said. I fumbled with my fork and dropped it on the ground. Macy giggled, making me even more self-conscious. “I gotta go grab another one. I’ll be right back.”

I stood up, and so did Macy. “I’ll go with you,” she told me.

My heart skipped a beat, and I nodded my head. “Alright, cool.” Really? ‘Alright, cool’ is the best you could come up with? I thought to myself. When we were in a group, I was relatively normal around Macy. But on the rare occasion it was just the two of us, I always did something embarrassing. Even though we were in a room filled with hundreds of people and so not technically alone, I could feel my “make-a-fool-of-yourself” engine revving up.

“How was your day, Kane?” Macy asked as we weaved through the cots.

“Good, I guess. Oh, shit,” I said, suddenly remembering the earlier events. “I forgot to tell Drew! Richter flew by my house and shattered all my windows.”

Macy stopped walking, and people around us turned and looked at me.

“I-uh-I,” I stumbled over my words. I motioned for Macy to follow and kept walking.

Macy got close enough to where I could feel the heat of her breath on my skin. I did my best to ignore it, trying to focus on not doing something foolish. “Are you serious?” she whispered.

I nodded my head. “I mean, it doesn’t mean anything. Just that we were in his path. Crazy, huh?”

Macy scoffed. “Yeah, crazy’s one word for it.”