Project Northwoods (24 page)

“I should go…” Arthur said quietly, edging toward the door.

Dervish’s eyes snapped upwards toward him, and he froze. There was something cold and feral behind them, something which mixed fear and rage. “They want them in the streets so they know who’s in charge.” He snorted. “So they know their number’s up.” He went back to staring at the wall. “They always said the same thing… those floatin’ tin cans…” After hesitating, he recited with a strange timbre, “A rogue element has been reported in your area. All transportation, communication, and utilities are under lock down for twenty-four hours.” He squinted in disgust before finishing. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Arthur looked out the window. Sure enough, he could see the smooth forms of some of the large hovering crafts, their search lights carving bright swaths into the buildings. He could barely comprehend it. An entire chunk of the city shut down to find someone. And sure enough, if he paid attention, he could hear the bizarre metallic voices speaking in unison. Not loud enough to penetrate the buildings, but loud enough to show calm control over a chaotic situation.

“Thank you for your cooperation…” Dervish leaned back in the sofa. “As if there’s a choice with a gun to your head.”

ASCENSION

ARTHUR STOOD ON THE ROOF,
gazing out over the streets. The day was bright and hot, but standing outside was a relief from the stifling interior of the building. Even with the sun disappearing lazily over the horizon, the onset of night was only slightly less brutal. Without air-conditioning, the inside was a brick oven, made all the worse by people aimlessly shuffling, getting into arguments, and the general malaise of the population. At least out here, the breeze kept him from passing out.

A few of the older villains had taken great pains to remind everyone to remain calm, that the heroes were locking down their part of the city as much for villain and neutral safety as their own. Water, mercifully, was kept on. Electricity and gas, however, were a no-go. It wasn’t ideal, they said wisely, but someone had done something wrong and it was the community’s civic duty to preserve the status quo.

Bicycles ran up and down the road in groups of two or three, and walking pedestrians were relatively more numerous. The only motorized vehicles were the occasional SUV escorted by motorcycles. They pulled up to a building and disgorged their complement of Enforcers and accompanying super hero into the street before the people disappeared inside the building.

He and Tim, having spent most of the night awake and wincing at the slightest noise from the outside, had long since come to the conclusion that the Enforcers were not about to smash open the windows and steal them away. They didn’t know just who was being hunted, but they both grudgingly agreed that the explosion was enough of an alarm to the heroes to warrant their flagrant display of power. Zombress had said something about a hero having killed a goon. The Italian Mob, despite their questionable leadership, would be the most politically and financially able to hold the heroes accountable for a possible vigilante element. Even Ariana had to agree that maybe it had been a hero who had flipped out and caused the explosion, wounded Zombress and Desert Ranger, and now the heroes were hunting the perpetrator. The search drones’ use of ‘rogue’ to describe the suspect could perhaps be explained as a limitation of the software.

Not that they told this theory to anyone else. It would show they knew too much, that they willingly ignored the rules to do an unauthorized activity. They listened as people whispered and postulated that the heroes were hunting a high-profile villain, another hero, or even Weston Marsh. It turns out that the actor had vanished halfway through Arbiter’s gala the night before, much to the chagrin of the candidate. Regardless, the fact remained that it was the idle chatter of individuals fighting the fear of the unknown by putting a familiar face on it.

Earlier that day, Ariana had taken Tim to go see her father. Arthur wanted desperately to go with them; even having a destination seemed like a fabulous way to give him direction. Her coldness toward him said that she hadn’t forgiven him for his supposed betrayal or his dangerous stunt with Tim.

He stayed home instead, trying to coax Mollie into describing the events of the night before. Her story was matter-of-fact and simple, owing to her still-evolving emotional capacity. He could tell by her articulate, cold mannerisms, however, that she had been terrified to confront what, to her, must have been the face of death itself. She opted to go to sleep to save battery life, a decision which Arthur couldn’t hold against her, either for the practicality of it or for the pure safety of a controlled oblivion. It was when it became obvious that he was alone that he had ventured to the roof, hoping to get some kind of clarity.

The Enforcers finally rolled to a stop in front of his apartment complex, prompting Arthur to head back downstairs to the first floor lobby. He rounded the final landing and watched the officers entering. Unlike the others he had seen, this group did not have a uniformed hero. Instead, a tall man, with skin a deep shade of espresso, entered at the head of the column. He wore the same armor as the others but bearing the sigil of ‘colonel’ below the Enforcer’s insignia on his sleeve. If Arthur knew his ranks, that was the leader of the Enforcers now moving toward his landlord, Dave.

The two spoke in hushed tones after the initial handshake. Dave was clearly agitated, while the colonel appeared nothing less than calm and authoritative. After a moment of talking, the landlord nodded his head and motioned the Enforcer into his office. As he disappeared, the colonel’s eyes swept the lobby before he followed the other man.

The Enforcers seemed widely ignored by the populace, and they were all too happy to return the favor. Arthur noticed how relaxed they all seemed, even though their hands never strayed too far from their holstered, high-caliber pistols. A little girl, apparently the only one who saw the gathered officers, broke away from her mother and tugged on a female Enforcer’s glove. The woman looked down, smiled, and knelt by her side. They exchanged a few words before the girl’s mother snatched her away. The Enforcer stood, her face unreadable, and turned back to her comrades.

It all seemed so bizarre to Arthur, who could barely seem to keep a grip on his own sense of self that day. When he realized that the gaggle of girls was still gossiping in the corner without their red-haired compatriot, the realities of the night before came flooding back. Instead of grounding him, it made his head feel twenty pounds lighter.

He fought his way up the stairs again, each step feeling about ten feet above the last. By the time Dervish had passed him on a landing and gave him a knowing nod, Arthur’s legs had turned completely to jelly. If he had been sweating when he left the apartment, he was amazed he had any water left in his body now.

The fresh air offered a sense of reality, if nothing else. He could close his eyes and just be himself, without having to think about the last twenty-four hours. When he did think of his father, sister, and the horrible event at the Guild, he had hope that everything would turn out alright. But when the night closed in and he was joined by couples seeking to enjoy the sunset to cap a day devoid of responsibility or conveniences, Arthur couldn’t help but feel the familiar sting of doubt and loneliness that had so recently seemed to poison everything he touched.

June 19
th
, 2011

After Midnight

“You’re cheating,” Tim accused Ariana after another beneficial roll of the dice.

She laughed in the candlelight. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you suck.” She picked up the race car and moved it eight spaces. “And I’m staying in one of my hotels tonight.”

“Art, how long until power is restored and we can stop getting played by Ari?” Tim asked in annoyance. He reached for the dice as Arthur squinted toward the analog wall clock.

“Twenty minutes or so,” he announced from the kitchen, trying to read by his candle’s glow. “Kind of reminds you of the time that Dr. Corpse’s fake zombies escaped, doesn’t it?”

“Are you kidding?” Ariana tossed a look over to him. “At least then we had power.”

“Plus I got to wander the streets punching the undead.” Tim slapped his bicep. “No teeth in the world sharp enough to cut through this skin.”

“I was so mad at you,” Ariana cooed nauseatingly. “You having to go out there and knock a few blocks off to prove you’re an unstoppable killing machine.”

Tim smiled. “They ate Dr. Corpse. It was my duty to the city.”

She shook her head and smiled wider. “Despite how sexy you looked smashing through the horde, you still should have stayed home.” Her eyes twinkled in the light. Tim gave her a rakish smile before she beckoned him over for a kiss. Arthur went back to his book. They had been acting like that since they got home a couple hours ago. It was insufferable. “Roll.”

Tim obeyed. “Damn it.” Ariana laughed and covered her mouth as she kicked her feet in success.

“Oh, honey, it’s alright.” She stuck her tongue out and winked. “You’ll be spending the night in my hotel,” she said as she leaned in close. She whispered something in his ear. He squinted at her when she finished relaying her no-doubt scandalous communique.

“If I do, can I not pay you this round?”

The lights unexpectedly snapped on. Arthur’s eyes adjusted to find the two of them still shielding theirs. He blew out his candle. “Power’s back on,” he announced.

“Thanks,” hissed Ariana before gasping in pain. “My head’s killing me, now.”

Tim took his hand away from his face and blinked a few times. “Why is it I always see purple hippos when stuff like that happens?” Ariana was clearing up the candles when Arthur came into the living room. He turned on the television. The picture came in as a standard test pattern for technical difficulties. “It’s tuned to VWN,” Tim explained. “They’re not back online yet.”

Arthur nodded and turned to a neutral news station. “Oh, no…”

Ariana dropped the candles to the floor and fell backward, missing the couch and crashing to the floor. “That’s…”

Tim turned to the television. “Shit.”

The volume was too low to hear, but it was clear what had happened. Desert Ranger’s publicity shot was full screen, the word ‘Murdered’ superimposed over it. Arthur swallowed and turned up the volume.

“… Best known for being the formerly undocumented hero who fought for democracy in his home country of Iraq…”

Click.

“… Attacks. A popular man, his stated mission was to keep order and balance between heroes and villains, America and the world.”

Click.

“… The murderer is believed to still be at large. And, in a shocking twist, seems to be from the Heroes’ Guild ranks.”

Click.

“… Don’t see how anyone could possibly blame heroes for holding a grudge, especially after the 1988 attacks which led to this system. It just is another example of our government failing to uphold its promises…”

Click.

“… Dark Saint was reported to have been attempting to stop an assassination attempt on Desert Ranger, only to meet the same fate…”

Arthur hadn’t even noticed he dropped the remote. He became acutely aware of Ariana and Tim staring at him, but he didn’t care. Trying to swallow, he found his mouth had become agonizingly dry. Despite the heat of the apartment, goose bumps prickled their way across his skin. He heaved air, but otherwise felt nothing.

Then, a hand gently rested on his arm. The sensation snapped him out of his stupor long enough to look at it. Despite the size, he expected it to have been Tim to have grabbed him, providing support. Instead, Ariana, almost being held back by her boyfriend, had reached out for him. Her eyes flicked over his face, then to the walls, then back to him. She released him, and he turned back toward the television.

“… Begs the question, what unknown aggressor did this? If the heroes know, they aren’t telling.” The generically handsome anchor faded away to a previously recorded shot of Desert Ranger answering questions at a conference. Then, the image went black, before going to a generic graphic of the network’s logo with the phrase ‘Late-breaking News’ stenciled across it.