Project Northwoods (109 page)

Julia saw the helicopter pivot toward her, then move through the light shower with a seeming casual disregard for physics. Behind them, the curtain was rapidly closing, leaving her no choice but to take out her grapple-gun and aim carefully, one-handed as Electronica had recommended what seemed like a lifetime ago.

The helicopter pivoted and revealed its cargo hold. She hit the trigger, and, with a hiss, the hook shot out and sank into the roof of the copter. She hit ‘retract’, and was in the air as the helicopter pulled her toward the nearly-shut window to freedom.

Dark Saint bounded through the floors, fighting to get to the roof. He had no doubt he could make it, no doubt that he could try this again. No one would believe his daughter… even if she talked to someone before he made it look like she killed herself in grief. Agent Mast would be a tougher sell, but he believed he could make it look like an accident… yes…

He leapt through the final hole and landed on the roof, eyes adjusting to the now-brilliant night. Everywhere, the golden curtain crackled with energy except for one sliver which shut behind a fleeing helicopter, destroying its rear rotor.

The air prickled with ions as debris lifted into the air. He looked up, the blinding light of the death ray beaming down on him. “No!” he screamed. “No!” He held his arms to the side as the light grew larger. “No!” his words carried on, until there was no longer an entity to project them.

The helicopter went into a spin, Julia holding on for dear life as the others were buckled in but gritting their teeth. The pilot laughed uproariously, as if drawing amusement from staring death in the face. Outside, the world roared with an explosion, throwing the already tumbling vehicle into a building before swatting it to the earth.

The screech of metal on pavement assaulted their ears as the helicopter rolled end-over-end before squealing to a stop. Julia, fingers digging into her palms, finally stopped holding onto the crash webbing. She tumbled to the earth, coming to a rest against the unconscious body of Weston Marsh.

The world seemed to lose its color as what looked like snow fell from the sky. The faces of Enforcers appeared in her vision, their concerned eyes the last thing she remembered seeing before sleep took her in.

Ariana stood alone at the ramshackle barricade the Enforcers set up. All eyes were drawn to the Guild, the low howl of wind the only sound.

“Arthur,” Ariana said quietly as the sparking mushroom cloud rose from the aftermath. She fell to her knees and covered her mouth with her hand. She couldn’t cry, not after everything else. Instead, she watched as the luminous cloud rolled into the sky.

Wildfire
.

The word which sealed his fate. Which took him away forever. A word which guaranteed the safety of countless others at the cost of his life.

Arthur, hold on to your past.

Arthur, don’t leave us.

Don’t leave me.

I need you.

Remember how we met.

Remember…

Remember…

Remem

Rem

R

WHISPERS OF SUMMER

July 6
th
, 2011

Early Morning

THE WORST PART ABOUT HOSPITALS
,
Steven thought as he watched doctors and nurses rushing by,
is no one ever seems to notice you
. It was probably four in the morning now, not that he cared to check, but he was still wide awake. His eyes were dry and ached from lack of sleep, but the adrenaline in his system, coupled with the constant agony of a gunshot wound, kept him from drifting off.

It wasn’t like the doctors weren’t courteous, but as soon as they patched him up they began working on one of the Enforcers who had come in fresh off the brawl. The neutrals were perfectly content with the operation, handling the overflow from the heroic hospitals that were never equipped for more than a few patients at a time. There was probably a tax break in it for them, which explained the lack of overall grumbling from the harried staff.

Steven rolled over in his bed, his perforated body protesting the entire time. He felt like he had been hit by a truck, backed over, run over again, and then fired. Most of the Italian Mob had been reduced to ash, probably leaving him jobless and uninsured the second this mess happened. On top of that, his brother had betrayed him at some point in the past and had been perfectly willing to watch him die.

Someone’s not getting a birthday card, that’s for damn sure.

“Hey,” came the familiar voice of Morgan.

He rolled over, wincing as he did so. Her hair was disheveled and dirty, a gash in her eyebrow had been stitched, one eye was swollen beneath a nasty welt, and her arm rested in a sling. Nevertheless, she moved smoothly as she sat down on the unoccupied bed next to him. “I thought you’d be sick of me by now,” he said.

She smiled weakly. “Maybe it’s the concussion speaking, but you’re easily my best friend.”

“Thanks,” he said. After a pause, he reconsidered the statement. “I think.”

They looked awkwardly at each other for a few moments, Morgan taking to gently slapping her unbound palm against her thighs like a pair of drums.

“I just–”

“You should–”

They trailed off, sheepishly smiling at each other before laughing. He gestured to her. “You first,” he said.

“No, I insist.”

“I had nothing important.”

Morgan nodded, took a deep breath, and finally pushed herself to the edge of the bed. “Thank you.”

Steven felt a little disappointed, but hoped he didn’t let it show. For as big a pain in the ass as she could be, he thought she was a cute pain in the ass. He looked away, mock embarrassed. “Aw, shucks. It wasn’t worth anything.” When he looked back at her, she hadn’t looked away, instead staring at him intently. He swallowed dryly and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

She leaned forward on the bed. “So what are you going to do after this?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I have two brothers left that I know of. Probably try to look them up before anything else.” He brought a hand to his chin, adopting a stereotypical ‘deep thinker’ look. “Don’t know after that. Maybe open a bakery.”

“A bakery?” Morgan laughed.

He pretended to be offended, dropping his hand from his chin in faux-shock. “Why not?”

“It sounds great,” she said, her toothy smile fading to a close-lipped one. They continued to look at each other, the battered survivors of a near-apocalypse. Steven breathed in to say something, but Morgan beat him to it. “Would you like some company?”

Arthur hated hospitals. He had been in one only twice that he could remember, but both times were unpleasant. Once, he had to have a cast put on his broken arm. Before that, staples were punched into his skin to close a gash in his leg. His memory of both events was hazy, but he remembered being scared, his father having left him to his own devices as the doctors worked to make him better.

Now he was alone in a waiting room, impatiently jiggling in place. The leaves in the courtyard were just turning orange with the season, promising to be inviting in a month or so when they fell away into great heaps on the ground. For now, they teased Arthur with the possibility of fun as he waited.

“Arthur,” his father hissed from a doorway. The boy looked up. His father, serious as always, waved him over. He obliged, walking to the super hero and following him down the hall to a door. His father stood by the doorway, like a cop in a movie.

“Arthur,” his mother called from the room in her sweet, welcoming tone. A smile spread on his face as he entered the hospital room, free of doctors and their staple guns, and moved toward his mother as she stretched on the bed. Brunette hair fell onto the pillow behind her like a perfect shawl, highlighting her natural tan. She smiled at him, shifting a bundle that had gone unnoticed until that moment. “I want you to meet your sister, Julia.” He walked to the side of her bed and peered at the swaddling. A pale, sleeping face fidgeted slightly as he studied her features. Something about the baby made him smile, even if all it did was squirm. “You two are going to get into fights and say things neither of you really mean to each other.” He looked at his mother. “But you have to remember that your job is to always love and protect her.” She smiled, placing a warm hand on his cheek as a tear rolled down her own. “And she’ll always do the same for you.”