The Prospects (Book 2): Nothing Poorer Than Gods (8 page)

Overhead, Stormhead threw lightning bolts and Magna emitted vibration waves at the bird creatures circling the helicopter.

As they drew closer several birds flew to Magna. Their claws barely scratched its metallic skin, but they kept it from helping Stormhead when another flock attacked him.

Stormhead surrounded himself with an aura of electricity that repelled all but one bird creature, which flew so fast it collided with his back despite the shock. He rolled when he hit the ground.

He ended up on his back. He saw several birds headed straight down with their talons ready to slash

Stormhead drew in the static energy around him to throw a large ball of lightning at the birds. Strands of electricity scattered among them.

He rolled and narrowly dodged the birds’ falling bodies.

He looked up. All four of Noah’s eyes fixed on him.

Pinwheel sprinted behind them and past Jenny and Deon on his way to the gym.

A high-pitched voice said, “Go to the north shore.”

There was no one else around, so Pinwheel ignored it.

The voice said again, “I told you, go to the north shore.”

Pinwheel mumbled to himself, “Steve, this isn’t the time to go nutty.”

“You’re not nutty,” the voice said, “but everyone says I am.”

Outside of the gym, Knockout Rose slapped her wrist together to activate the stun gloves.

Arbalest slapped another magazine of bolts into his crossbow and looked across the island. “The helicopter’s taking off.”

“Don’t we have another helicopter?”

“Alex didn’t come back with it.”

Knockout Rose raised her fists at the squid-men coming around the corner of the gym. “Are we stuck here?”

Arbalest nodded towards a flashing light. “I think your boyfriend is trying to catch our attention.”

Stormhead launched himself into the sky with electricity coursing over him and flew to the rising MAB helicopter.

Inside the helicopter, Gary held Joey and Ruby held Gary with one claw and the other clenched on the helicopter’s wall tight enough to bend the metal.

A burst of wind caused by the vortex of wind under Jenny and Deon tilted the helicopter. Deon wrapped one arm around the skid and the other around Jenny’s waist.

Jenny reached for the skid but missed. She swung back.

Deon’s arm wrapped around the skid.

The MAB agent pointed his carbine at Deon.

Gary grabbed the agent’s shoulder. “He’s a doctor!”

Arbalest and Knockout Rose ran to Pinwheel and Pete.

“The north shore,” Pinwheel said.

“Why?” asked Knockout Rose.

“Doctor Von Dyme made himself real small and jumped into my ear. He says there’s a way to escape through there.”

“Let’s trust Harry,” said Arbalest. “He’s crazy enough to handle crazy situations.”

“That’s the smartest thing he’s ever said,” said Harry.

Above the island,
Stormhead electrocuted every bird-creature between him and the helicopter.

Magna flew in the opposite direction. The robot used a low sonic frequency that carried through the wind to say, “Harry needs me at the north shore.”

The MAB agents didn’t resist when they saw Stormhead fly straight into the helicopter’s open door. He landed and yelled, “Out of here, now.”

Gary pointed back to the island. “What about Noah?”

Stormhead saw Noah surrounded by squid-men. He swung a tree branch and backed away, but they had him surrounded in all directions. With the nullifier on, he couldn’t use his powers.

“Our orders were to bring him back alive,” said a MAB agent.

“Please,” said Ruby, “you have to rescue him.”

“Pilot, fly out,” yelled Stormhead.

“No,” said Gary, “he saved us. Don’t leave him behind.”

“He’s a killer,” said Storhmead. “He deserves to die.”

“Say what?” said Deon. “When did you get the right to make that call?”

Jenny looked away from Stormhead.

Joey wailed.

Another agent said to Stormhead, “I thought you were a good guy.”

Stormhead grit his teeth. He hated Noah. He would never forget watching that family die in the exploding car. But being the target of so much shame and disappointment was somehow worse than reliving that memory.

“Pilot, circle to the north coast.” Stormhead said before he flew from the helicopter and threw lightning bolts at every monster in sight.

He landed next to Noah. “You are coming with me.”

Near the north shore, Harry yelled from inside Pinwheel’s ear, “Go to the shed. The combination for the lock is CLT-One.”

Pinwheel pointed to the shed. Arbalest slapped a new magazine into his crossbow and fired steel-tipped bolts at every squid-man in his path. He aimed so intently he didn’t notice another squid-man about to attack him on the right.

Knockout punched that squid-man twice before it fell.

Pete struggled to catch up. His stone-skinned legs kept him from moving fast.

Pinwheel heard a buzz in his ear as he worked on the combination. Harry, in his full Professor Photon costume, jumped out and assumed his regular human size in a matter of seconds.

Magna strafed the water in front of the shed with her vibration blasts, cutting a swath through the lines of squid-men who hadn’t reached the shore.

Above the north shore, a MAB agent slapped a new magazine into his carbine and fired to keep the bird-creatures from flying into the space Magna cleared.

Jenny made another burst of wind below herself and flew up to the helicopter’s open door. She reached back and pulled Deon in.

A MAB agent tapped Jenny’s back. “Cover him.”

Jenny followed his pointed finger to Stormhead, who carried Noah on his shoulders. She threw bursts of wind above and below him to hold the bird creatures back.

At the shed on the north shore, Pinwheel pulled the lock down and opened the door. “A motorboat?”

Professor Photon ran inside and climbed into the boat. “Would you rather swim?”

Pinwheel and Knockout Rose leapt into the passenger seats as Arbalest severed the mooring cables with a razor-tipped quarrel. Professor Photon turned the engine on.

Arbalest dove onto the back of the boat and rolled around his crossbow.

“Where’s Pete?” said Pinwheel.

Pete burst through the shed’s door. “I’m coming!”

Billy Two followed closely behind him.

The boat lurched forward.

“Stop,” said Knockout Rose. “Pete’s not on yet.”

“Our path won’t be clear for long,” said Professor Photon.

“Pete, run,” yelled Pinwheel.

Pete ran so hard stone chips flew from his knees. He splashed in the water and closed most of the distance between himself and the boat as it lurched out of the dock.

Billy Two swam frantically after them. Arbalest grabbed his horns and yanked him inside.

Pinwheel reached for Pete. Pete’s fingers closed around Pinwheel’s just before the island’s artificial ended with a sharp drop into the ocean.

Pinwheel clung to Pete even though his six-hundred pound body made the boat tip upwards.

“Let him go,” said Professor Photon. “He’ll sink us.”

Knockout Rose turned off her stun gloves and grabbed Pinwheel’s shoulders to keep him from falling out of the boat.

Something grabbed Pete’s feet and yanked. His hands ripped off Pinwheel’s gloves and most of the skin on his fingers. For an instant Pele thrashed in the clear water above the opaque

Steve screamed as the boat righted itself and cut through the turbulent waves.

Candilyn grinned as Sheriff Johnson pulled her by the handcuffs to the black van. “I’m going to write the nastiest review of this place if I ever learn how to write.”

“Have fun in Bedford Hills Correctional’s metahuman unit.” Sheriff Johnson put the sealed bag with her costume in the back of the van. “No one posted bail, so we’ll see you again at your trial.”

All she saw on the van were the outlines of several heads. Two protruding horns, a head covered by metallic dreadlocks, a mohawk made of bone spikes, a shock of bright orange hair, a small bald head poking out of a turtle-like shell, and a fluffy mane of teased hair reminded her these were not normal people. Only a small but immaculate head of straight shiny hair in the last seat looked normal.

A normal woman would’ve been terrified of being in a van full of arrested superpowered women, but Candilyn wasn’t normal. She grew up going to a new school every year, sometimes more than once a year, as her mother moved from place to another to stay one step ahead of eviction notices. The ingrained mentality of assuming she’d be hated and rejected, no matter what she did, left no room for fear.

She waved her cuffed hands and said, “Hey, future cellmate, I get the top bunk.”

The woman with a bone-spike mohawk scowled. Candilyn gave her a toothy grin.

The orange-haired midget shook a fist. Candilyn sang, “Oompa, loompa, doopity-doo.”

The turtle-shelled woman snapped her beak-like lips. Candilyn stuck out her tongue.

The dreadlocked woman whistled. Candilyn winked back.

A muscular woman with bovine horns moved to the edge of her seat to deny Candilyn a place to sit.

“No cupcake for you on my birthday,” said Candilyn.

The van lurched forward. The horned woman glared at Candilyn.

The woman with hair teased to resemble a mane put her blue-slippered feet on the open half of her seat. “Taken.”

“I’ll bet your boyfriend doesn’t say that.” Candilyn made her way to the back of the van and sat next to a petite woman with sharp cheekbones.

The woman spoke with a hint of an Australian accent. “New fish?”

“You recognize my perfume?”

“First time in jail?”

“Kind of. I ended up on the wrong side of the bars at a zoo once. Long story. But it’s a good story ‘cause it has monkeys in it.”

The woman smiled a little. “What are you in for?”

“I wish it was murder, but that dirtbag survived.”

“You’re not real bright, are you?”

Candilyn frowned. “I hear that so often I’m starting to believe it.”

“When someone asked what you did, say you’re innocent. What’s your ‘p’?”

“Uh, usually yellow?”

“Your ‘p,’ your power. You’re headed to a metahuman prison, you must have one.”

“I heal fast, but not real fast. The docs say the more I get hurt, the faster I’ll heal.”

“What’s your name?”

“Candilyn Tiffany Wyznowski of the Wingrove Mobile Home Community Wyznowskis.”

“Your real name. Who are you in your real costume?”

“Zany.”

“Appropriate. Aren’t you going to ask who I am?”

“Nah, I’d rather call you Koala.”

“Excuse me?”

“You talk like a koala in a cartoon.”

She almost laughed. “I’m Portia.”

“Is that your real name or …”

“Both.”

“What’s your ‘p’?”

“I’ll show you.” The roar of passing motorcycles made Candilyn jump. Portia glanced out the mesh-covered window as she extended her handcuffed wrists to Candilyn. “Hold these”

Candilyn held her cuffs. Portia squeezed her left hand with a series of fluid movements. The bones popped out of their joints. She slipped her limp dangling left hand out of the cuff and shook it. With a series of pops her hand regained its shape.

“What did you just do?” asked Candilyn.

“It’s called hyper-physiological control. I can make my body do anything. And I can make yours do anything with deft touches to the right spots.”

“That’s hot.”

Portia looked out the window. “Put your head in my lap.”

Candilyn tensed. “Uh, not on a first date.”

Portia tapped Candilyn’s shoulders. Her upper body went so limp she couldn’t resist when Portia grabbed her head. It was deep in Portia’s lap, with Portia curled over her, when the dry cracks of gunshots and the shrill tinkle of breaking glass surrounded the bus. Tires popped loudly. The van shook and turned sharply before it screeched to a stop.

Portia curled her body around Candilyn. “Stay down.”

Candilyn quit resisting until the gunfire stopped. The other prisoners screamed like teenagers at a horror movie. One was coherent enough to shout, “They killed the driver!”

Someone knocked and shone a light through the back window. Portia put a raised thumb against the glass.

Portia put her head up and spoke loudly without shouting. “Last stop. Everyone out.”

The prisoners pushed and shoved their way to the exit. Candilyn didn’t move. The glass behind her chair shattered under a sledgehammer’s strike.

“You know what’s going on, right?” said Candilyn. “‘Cause I don’t. All I know is my face is in your crotch and I hear fireworks.”

“It’s called an escape. You can get up.”

Candilyn followed Portia out of the back of the bus. Bearded bikers herded the prisoners into a rough crowd. The denim vests over their black leather jackets bore orange reflective letters that spelled VANDALS.

Portia stepped into the intersection of four motorcycle headlights and spoke loudly without yelling. “Ladies, we have a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it. Take your personal effects from the van, hop on a bike, and we’re out of here. We’ll get the cuffs and jumpsuits off later.”

“Hold on,” shouted the woman with a mane. “Who the hell are you?”

Portia unzipped her orange jumpsuit and lowered it to her waist, revealing a huge tattoo of a stylized spider that covered her back.

“Yo,” said the dreadlocked woman. “That’s Portia. She’s a freakin’ mastermind.”

“I know who she is,” said the horned woman. “My sister disappeared doing a job for her last month.”

Portia zipped up her jumpsuit. “You must be Brahma Mama.”

“Damn right I am. Where’s my sister?”

“I paid All-Beef Patty and said goodbye. I can’t be held accountable for anything else.”

“I know bullshit. That’s bullshit.”

“We’ll talk later.”

“No, we won’t.”

Candilyn stepped in front of Portia. “Not now, big cow. Portia arranged this escape, we listen to her.”

Brahma Mama bellowed and charged.

Candilyn heard Alex’s voice in her head: “Even big guys have knees.” She side-stepped, dropped, and kicked the side of Brahma Mama’s knees. The horned woman fell on her side but rolled back up.

“I’ll break you, beanpole.” Brahma Mama put her cuffed hands together and swung back.

Alex’s words came to her mind: “Combat is all expansion and contraction. Expand when they contract.” When Brahma Mama twisted to swing, Candilyn jump-kicked her in the stomach. Brahma Mama doubled over and Candilyn kneed her face and brought down both cuffed hands in a powerful punch. She kicked Brahma Mama several times before she hit the ground.

“Candilyn, that’s enough.” Portia pointed to a biker. “Take Brahma Mama. Everyone else, mount up.”

The other women grabbed the bags with their personal effects. Candilyn grabbed her bag by the bottom. Her suit, the white bands, the goggles, her case of makeup, and her jester’s stick rolled all over the road.

As she recollected her possessions, the other prisoners each got on the back of a motorcycle and rode off.

“Shit.” She watched the taillights go further away. “Last picked again.”

Portia tapped her shoulder. “You’re with me.”

Candilyn followed Portia to a burly man who looked like a modern-day barbarian in his furry vest and metal bracers. “He’s the leader of the Vandals.” Portia got on behind him. “Hold on tight.”

The Vandals’ leader quickly rode to the head of the gang and directed them through the dark night. After a few miles of twists and turns they went off the road, over a bumpy bridge, and down narrow forested trails. Candilyn held Portia tightly as the motorcycle bumped and tree branches smacked the top of her head.

The bikers stopped in front of a cabin. One lit a fire, which quickly turned into a bonfire, while another others dropped off his passengers and went back down the trail, and the rest went inside.

Portia stood in front of the fire. “We need to lay low and stay together tonight. We’re miles from the van and the Vandals will hide our tracks, but we can’t wander very far.”

“Yo,” the dreadlocked woman said. “What’s the plan?”

“There’s a big war coming. Hundreds like us want revenge on the conformists who sent you to jail. You will be the backbone in a battalion of bitches.”

The women cheered.

“And for your enlistment bonus,” Portia pointed to the cabin as the bikers came out carrying a keg, bottles of liquor, cartons of cigarettes, a bag of marijuana, and hamburgers. “Eat, drink, and if you need a man the Vandals are willing to please.”

Hours later, Candilyn wore her purple bodysuit, white bands, legwarmers, and goggles of her Zany costume. She sat alone on a log, staring into the fire, sipping Sprite. All around her the supervillainesses in their costumes drank, danced, talk, sang, and clung to the bikers.

The girl with a mane, her orange prison suit replaced by mismatched jungle cat patterns over ripped black tights, drunkenly swaggered over to her. “You think you’re tough, huh?”

Candilyn grinned. “I could kick your ass twice in a New York minute.”

“You don’t know me.” Curled chitin claws popped out from her fingertips. “I’m Junkyard Kat. I almost killed Gecko Guy.”

“Okay,” said Candilyn. “I still don’t know you.”

Portia, her orange jumpsuit replaced by a gray tailored pantsuit that made her look like a CEO, tapped Junkyard Kat’s shoulder. “Go get something to drink. This one is mine.”

“You think you can tell me what to do?” said Junkyard Kat.

Portia stood with quiet confidence and with no concern that Junkyard Kat was almost a full head taller. “Yes.”

“Whatever.” Junkyard Kat stumbled away.

“I could’ve taken her,” said Candilyn.

“I’m sure. Where did you learn to fight?”

“From a guy trained by Sergeant Hammer. And Sergeant Hammer too. And Lady Amazing.”

“Superheroes? How did that happen?”

“I joined a crappy team for losers. It turned out to be one more place I didn’t belong.”

“It’s their loss. We have beer, wine, and liquor, and you’re drinking Sprite?”

“I don’t touch drugs.”

“Neither do I.” Portia raised her bottle of Fiji Water. “I can’t stand losing even a little bit of self-control. What’s your reason?”

“I saw too many people hurt by addiction. My real dad spent our rent money on benders and beat up mom when she complained. My step-brother was terrific until his loser buddies got him hooked on meth. You ever see what that does to someone?”

“I have.”

“Before joining that stupid loser superhero team, I told his dealer I’d break his goddamn head open if he sold to my step-brother again. I kept my promise.”

“I told you, say you’re innocent.”

“You also said I’m stupid. Stupid is as I does.”

Portia brushed a strand of hair out of Candilyn’s face and pushed her goggles to her forehead. “What did you mean when you said the superhero team was one more place you didn’t fit in?”

“I almost died for them, and they still didn’t like me.”

“I understand. I’ve dealt with superheroes long enough to know that they only exist in their own minds. Their masks keep them from seeing how far below their own standards they are.”

Candilyn tapped her Sprite against Portia’s water bottle. “I’ll drink to that. I mean, I said Sergeant Hammer was a nasty pervert and no one listened to me. They were like, ‘Oh, he’s old-fashioned.’ ‘He does it to guys too, so it’s okay.’ By the time I got out of the hospital, about a hundred villainesses he raped came forward. And I’m the stupid one?”

“It’s harder to tell good from evil than most people realize.”

“At least these villainesses are honest about who they are.”

“No they aren’t. They’ll say they only rob the rich or have a cause or don’t know any better because they come from broken homes, but look at them. All they want is to fight, screw, and get wasted more than the laws allow. The villainy is merely an excuse, a narrative they construct to make their chaotic lives coherent. You’re clearly not one of them. What are you, exactly?”

“My whole life I’ve been a new fish. I go from one place I don’t belong to another to another. There’s nowhere I fit in, and when things go right for me I find a way to screw it up. If there’s a way to screw up jail life, I’ll do it.”