True Heroes (37 page)

              The chaotic shouting from the common room carelessly careened down the hallway behind them until the elevator sealed the peach colored hallway from their view. The grid of the elevator floor buttons glowed but went untouched. Major Howard’s thumb depressed a secret pad, revealing another table of symbols on Stephen’s side. “Been in a military building this expansive before?”

              “Not quite. All the elevators I’ve seen have numbers not letters.”

              The Major smiled. “Oh, we have numbers here, but we had too many floors for the single-digits to hold. The extra shell around the high profiles of the military worked out pretty well for the elevator system too.”

              “Yeah everyone won on that. What’s our floor? Since I’ll be living here, I might want to know where the fridge is.”

              “Heh, Omega level is all yours. Interception epsilon is where the suit sleeps.”

              ‘Ah the multi-tasking ability you can only see in the army. Join now! Make corny names, flimsy ironies, and send countrymen to their deaths, all with a red, white, and blue smile.’ The sarcasm slunk from his thoughts as Stephen felt suddenly insignificant within the spreading catacomb of the complex. ‘It’s good to be in the military or elevator business in a long paranoia war. Every military building or potential terrorist target is now crusted over with Shells. Can’t barely remember going to a sports game and seeing the sun at the same time. No economic doctor can put the symptoms together in this damn country; Shells took away tourist attractions.’ “If there’s one thing you’re right about, Major, it’s this country. Everybody has the same problems.”

              “That’s how it always is, Sergeant. Don’t let war fool you.”

              The thirtieth second found a twisted oblivion before gravity fought against the slowing lift and the doors zipped open to glass and metal. Short men in lab coats raced through the short corridor—physical movements not accompanied by mental appreciation—and into the all-metal area beneath the observer’s glass. The three men moved to the glass on the right, Stephen’s interest in the blue-white bolt glowing from a small container on the lower basement floor taking precedent quickly. His eyes wandered a little at first, noting the large girders colored within the metal liquidity of the rest of the room while more homogenous and slithered strings met under the still-glowing stratus. The six hallowed white coats hovering safely away as the apparatus dimmed, showing the propitious suit in its splendor. “They’re keeping an awful far distance from a suit you want to shove me into.”

              “They’re just testing the suit for voltage. It’s completely safe, but they’re not exactly the bravest bunch. Most that would happen would be your hair standing on end.”

              “How much juice are you guys going to push through me, exactly?”

              The entertained General spoke up from behind. “None at all. The suit only uses a few hundred volts, and there’s a layer of insulation between you and the suit. Even if the insulation fails, a few hundred volts won’t do anything permanent.”

              “I’m not a math guy, but you can’t multiply energy into the levels you’re talking about.”

              “We can use your body as the amplifier.” The Major walked forward again. “One or two volts create thousands in power output.”

              “You boys really found the gold vein in some researcher.”

              The Major nodded to the General who quickly removed a folder from under his arm. “Wasn’t even our man. The inspiration for this suit took a sharp left turn when we discovered someone else already had these abilities.”

              Stephen’s stomach knotted. “Another country has us beat to this type of thing?”

              “No, no,” the General handed over the folder to Stephen, “we found a civilian whose body can naturally produce this type of power. He’s the one giving us the information, and he’s the one you’ll be testing the suit’s limits against.”

              The folder flipped around, submerging Stephen into the color photo attached to the thick folder. Facial features struck familiar nerves against memories Stephen had attempted to eclipse. Blue eyes that dominated all structure hit him before the firm jaw and bald head. They sprang against the flow of time and vaulted years further than the rest of his young face. His mind gave his eyes the freedom to scan, and his heart jumped.

              “Rumor is you two have met.”

              The hand not holding the spine of the folder flexed into a remembering fist. ‘That…creature. Hurling me through the rain, dismantling me in every way possible. Bring me absolution, and I’ll bring you the left hand of vengeance.’ “He’s barely changed.”

              Both officers half-smiled at their ability to strum a thin nerve as the General explained. “It would seem Mr. Whitmor doesn’t cling to time’s toll as we do. Just one of the many mysteries we’re hoping to unravel with his help. The suit’s maiden voyage will be the headlamp, so we’ll need to get you interested as soon as possible. If we’re properly prepared, you’ll be every bit as strong and fast as him.”

              “Really….” Stephen felt his heart pumping fresh blood through his limbs, refreshing the numb, bitten muscles with flexible steel and confidence again.

                            -                            -                            -                           

              “It’s the official three-week anniversary of your sad little recession, Caleb.”

              His psyche stirred while it crouched in a tree, Caleb’s hollowed face dirty with emerging follicles against blazing eyes and sharp city lights from below and beyond. Their perch looked level upon the highest building of downtown Cincinnati; the slithering taillights flared and whizzed below until the horizon met and spit them into a splintered north. Power noticed. It leaned them back into the trunk of the tree, zooming into a high-flying front page of The Cincinnati Enquirer from his thirty-foot perch over a cliff. Its head felt clear, and it felt air against Caleb’s head, dimming its veracity if only slightly against the night. Some part of it loved the night’s cool attempt to slap Caleb’s pasty body from the flora. The keys from night’s pocket were being dangled in its face while Caleb wallowed, and Power was having a hard time getting over how invitingly fascinating they truly were.

              ‘Loving humans now?’

              ‘They’re nothing but rats that scurry at the boot. I’m looking up for beauty, not down. How shall we celebrate your three week slide?’ Caleb did nothing but lay in the straw bed of despair he’d made for himself in his darkened mind. ‘You’ve been brooding ever since we started running, and I started hiding us. You’ve been my hemorrhoids lately. Every time your blood starts turning blue with my essence, you re-raise your impetuous defenses. Three people got away from me because of you, and it’s just not as much fun without the kill. Far be it for me to attempt to understand your self-imposed sorrow, but neither one of us enjoys being restrained or silent.’

              Power snapped a small current to scratch at Caleb’s growing hair, feeling something stir slightly inside of it. ‘What do you have to talk about? You have all the freedom you can have, and…I have nothing.’

              ‘Oh please, you have the entire world.’

              ‘An entire world of empty faces.’

              ‘You don’t believe that.’

              ‘I’m starting to.’

              Power smirked. ‘Then free me completely. In three months, there won’t be a single hollow smile for you to grieve over.’

              Long seconds tacked and ticked against Power’s extended clutch, increasing its confidence more and more. Caleb’s dispassionate tone weakly sounded, ‘Never.’

              ‘Which brings us back to doing nothing. Stagnation simply cannot appease you, can it?’

              ‘We could turn ourselves in. We should. Where’s the justice in us running free?’

              ‘Their justice means nothing. Yes, by their standards you and I are an evil person, but you’ve never cared about their justice. You’re most annoying obsession is and will always be your dedication to the justice of the world. True justice.’

              ‘True justice might not even be possible for me anymore. I’d have ended my life before for true justice if you’d let me.’

              ‘That’s not true justice it’s nothing more than a pathetic device used to stop pain. You know how to truly justify her.’

              ‘By turning myself in.’

              ‘Not even close. That would cleanse you in fire, not under water. And letting all the fun end now? No, not a chance. I won’t let our little story end in one of their cells.’

              Caleb and his power thought the same parallel. ‘A deal?’

              ‘No, a bet. What would you say if I actually did behave for a certain amount of time, giving you whatever wasted effort you have left to find a reason to keep me from destroying this world? If you can’t find one, everything is mine, no more strings.’

              ‘How long?’

              Caleb blinked back into control of his own body, his power extending out to the end of the branch to remain visible. “Hm, time seems a trivial thing to ponder…shall we say three months? That seems like a happy medium; you can travel if need be while I will barely notice the blink as it passes.”

              “Well, you’re making me a bit happier to see you this desperate. What, exactly, happens if I don’t find the reason?”

              Power crouched down to Caleb’s pane of vision. “I’ll just flex my power and erase your pain from the world.”

              “How cheerful.” Caleb leaned his head against the cool bark and weighed the gamble carefully. “You really think you can stay out of my affairs for three months?”

              “Oh, I’m sure I’ll still have my opinions on the sadness of the human race, but unless the military finds us, you have my word.”

              Caleb nodded and drew his power completely into his body. “Deal.”

              With that, he simply rolled out of the branch, feeling his knees buckle unusually beneath him. A last second roll saved his shins from fracture, but his anger still raged. “What the hell was that?”

              ‘Oh sorry, I guess you do need me after all.’ Caleb stood and cursed his power while he hobbled forward. The edge of the cliff came under his feet soon, his mind unfolding into his body again. ‘Do you think they have any idea?’

              “Of what?” He looked up while checking his angered voice. The Cincinnati skyline faced him back, staring him level with the lights of man and the uneasy breath of a busying population.

              ‘That their lives rest in our hands.’

              Caleb released his fists at his side, and he was suddenly above the city; imagination flew him around it. Through the driving fathers and mothers, the baby seats and older children electronically enthralled, around to a dirty street musician, old but full of zeal and passion, overtop a couple walking hand in hand. All the winds brought him the smells of the city through the filter of metal skyscrapers and bronze statues flowing still against the idea of the truest man or the truest building. They never tried to be what they were or struggle to aspire; they simply were already the truest forms of themselves, neither content nor conceited. Caleb suddenly knew that his power was wrong. He had forgotten, somewhere, how to find the truest form of the world. “I truly hope not.”

              A big breath filled Caleb’s body with power before a quick jump sent him flying closer to the city. His feet took him down darkened back streets at half-speed for seconds, soon leading him to downtown, blocks from the very center of it all. Slowing, he saw how vibrantly active it truly was. The movement multiplied so swiftly that his mind was nearly overloaded, feeling the sluggish weights of the asylum still being shaken from his wits. His head swiveled between crowds like a security camera; his eyes caught a reflective store front, causing him to repulse slightly. Three weeks of growth and grime stared at him more than his eyes; his clothes were losing any shade of white while his neck had a cheap, dirty tan. He couldn’t imagine the smell emanating from his sullied shell.

              “Hey! Glow boy!”

              Caleb indirectly looked behind him using the window’s reflection, and spotted the waving black man about a hundred feet back, but coming no closer. ‘He looks familiar.’

              ‘Think about the night I came out in full.’

              His mind mended broken sinews of fleeting memories from that night, and he turned quickly. ‘The old man?’

              ‘The blind man that can see you. Be smart, boy.’

              ‘I saw his eye sockets. They’re empty.’

              ‘Still. Wariness is our ally amongst crowds. Especially with name shouting.’

              ‘He doesn’t even know my real name. Keep your head and your eyes open if you’re that worried.’

              Caleb slowly meandered through indomitable paths towards the obviously aged man. Twenty years had torn at him like a hurricane. His long dreadlocks were nearly white with salted age while his forehead was massively creased from seven-thousand passionately blended tales of sorrow and discovery. His hand extended, much as his degraded state extended to his clothes, rags and torn tunics that revealed the most well-hidden of clandestine caverns. His feet were torn to shreds beneath the sides of his decade-long jeans that scraped the pavement with limp bolts. His leather jacket looked relatively new. The cheap sunglasses still shaded his ocular deprivation, although missing chips in the lenses would become troublesome to that effect soon. Caleb shook his hand slowly, making sure to take his observations along as his mind calculated their first exchange. “Never thought I’d see you again, Glowstick.”