Supergirl (11 page)

In the room she shared with Lucy, she began to regret acutely coming back to the dormitory. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, and impossible to escape her thoughts. Never before in her life had she been lonely. Growing up privileged in Argo, she had always been surrounded by people, her parents first, then Zaltar, and all the friends and relatives she had known since she was a tiny girl. All of them had cared for her; she could hardly walk a block in Argo City without meeting someone who knew her and her parents. A terrible yearning for the beautiful city of Argo overcame her. Was it still there? What had happened to it with only one Power Source? Did they have water, food, air? Were they suffering? Her thoughts tormented her. She touched Zaltar's bracelet. Was it possible that she might not find the Omegahedron . . . or if she did that it would be too late for Argo and the people she loved?

In her room, Selena was again entranced by her mirror, not to reaffirm her beauty (she had no doubts), but because it gave back to her a different sort of reflection, a reflection of her creative genius. She had actually only become aware of this satisfying aspect of her personality as she watched the monster—the Shape, she called it—oozing across the countryside. Now that it had left her and Bianca, despite the rude way it had exited and the crummy hole in the wall it had left her, despite all that, she had begun to appreciate it and, as a result, herself. How many genuinely disgusting, frightening, horrible, true monsters were out there, anyway? And who else was around who could do what she'd done? The monster was her creation. It was unique. Nothing like it had ever before walked, crawled, or oozed its way across the earth. And she, she alone, had brought it into the world. She had called it forth from the unknown realms, animated it, and sent it out on its mission to destroy. It was a genuine act of creation, and, therefore, partaking of genius.

Selena stroked her face lovingly. Genius. That she was beautiful, clever, and diabolical was already a given, but to add to that, "genius" was most satisfactory. And, indeed, confirmed her, not only in her desire to rule the world, but in the propriety of her desire. One wouldn't, she thought righteously, want to rule the world without the proper character attributes.

An audience of one (oh, well, two, counting Bianca), she watched intently the monster show that she, and she alone, had conceived and produced. Selena, she told herself, We (might as well get used to the royal locution), We are an amazement.

A storm was brewing. Lightning flashed pink, green, white; thunder rumbled and crashed; a strong wind moaned through the treetops.

The Shape, with the power of a tornado, carelessly uprooted an oak tree. . . . A steel-cable fence crumpled before it like string. . . .The Shape moved on mindlessly toward its destination, leaving in its wake a trail of flattened cars, demolished playgrounds, and trees splintered like toothpicks. Invisible to human eyes, its unimaginable weight and bulk gouged room-sized footprints out of the earth. (When discovered some years later, these curious formations, that resembled nothing heretofore discovered, would be explained by a classical scholar as abandoned prehistoric burial sites.) The land shook beneath its weight and buildings for miles around quivered and swayed. Earthquake warnings were broadcast; half the population of Midvale took shelter in their cellars, the other half decided if the end was coming, they might as well enjoy their last moments, and they did. So it was a merry night for many people of Midvale. . . .

Standing at her window, watching the approaching storm, Linda Lee decided she'd had enough of feeling lonely and sorry for herself. She couldn't do anything about missing her parents and Zaltar, except get back to them as soon as possible—and that meant finding the Omegahedron. She looked down again at Zaltar's bracelet, remembering how it had flickered into life that morning in Nigel's class.

Thunder rumbled again . . . or was it thunder? At that moment, Linda Lee saw something she couldn't put a name to, something vile and ominous dragging itself through the night. Neither human nor visible, it was a vast, shapeless, lightless mass . . . it was as if the darkness itself had gathered together and taken form. Monstrous . . . alien . . . perverse . . . and coming straight for her.

Rarely had she known real fear. Pain, loneliness, anxiety, yes . . . but not terror, not till this moment. More alone than ever, she shrank back with a stifled cry. And the Shape, the ground giving way beneath it, slithered toward her.

In her nice little cubicle, all fixed up the way she liked it, with the shades down and the curtains drawn and plenty of beer, and the TV on good and loud, and her favorite pillow for her back in her favorite chair—with all that nice stuff, plus the best stuff of all, none of those rotten little snots around with their snotty-snooty ways, with all that, Mrs. M. was still not feeling the nice mellow feeling that would come over her when she raised her bottle of beer and saluted Dan Rather, "You tell 'em, Dan boy" As he did tell 'em, told everyone, every night, with that sorta sweet but serious little dogface of his, how seriously the world was going to hell. Going to hell in a handbasket, as Mrs. M.'s mother used to say. And where else should it go, and who could better tell 'em that it was going there, than Dan boy. She liked him, and she didn't like anything to interfere with her pleasures. Bottle of beer and Dan Rather. And none of those pig-faced princesses simpering around. The whole thing was set up for her, and now she couldn't even hear Dan boy for the ruckus outside. Never heard so much damn thunder. Damn weathermen and their damn storms, interfering with peaceful people trying to watch TV and raise their level of culture. She turned up the sound on the box.

Selena was in a cheerful mood as she watched her monster ravage the land. "Go, my darling monster, go!" Heading like an arrow for Midvale School. Good job. She liked a monster who could concentrate. That bulldozer had been a real dud, but this one was nothing less than splendid. Oh, very, very nice . . . and soon, quite soon, the world would have one less Midvale School girl, and all the better for the world. There was only one tiny nagging worry for Selena—what would she do with darling monster once he'd gobbled that nasty little Midvale morsel? She really didn't fancy any more holes in the Ghost Train decor.

"Do you see what I see?" Bianca said, leaning over Selena's shoulder.

Selena twitched Bianca off. "Certainly. There's nothing wrong with my eyes." She was sensitive about her eyes. They were the only not-perfect part of her, and they were not-perfect in a way Selena found distasteful. She was nearsighted in one eye and farsighted in the other. It was like having six fingers or twelve toes. It made people laugh. Selena did not like to be laughed at.

"Look, look," Bianca said, hanging on Selena's shoulder again. "It's that flying girl again, the one with the cape."

Just like that, Selena's whole good mood shattered. "Where the devil did she come from?" How had she done it? How could she appear out of nowhere, right under Selena's nose? One moment Selena had been enjoyably watching her monster on the loose, and the next this—this
interloper
—had dropped out of the sky. And now, standing directly in front of the monster, legs planted squarely, hands on her hips, she looked ready for a fight. Selena's only consolation was that the monster would be no easy pushover like the bulldozer.

A tiny thought flashed in the corner of Selena's mind, something about the string bean and the flying girl, about them showing up in the same places. . . but she couldn't catch the idea; it was gone as fast as it had come.

"Did she just say something?" Bianca said. "What'd she say? I wish this thing had sound."

Outside the Midvale School, Supergirl confronted the monster; its foul breath blew over her like a hurricane, rattling her in her tracks. She tried to raise her fist, but its breath pushed her arm harmlessly aside. "Who are you, you son of darkness?" She tried to keep her voice from shaking. "Leave this place and do no harm"

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, she was flung against the wall of the dormitory. Green lightning lit the garish scene as a soft-drink dispenser crashed under her weight. Supergirl sprang to her feet, kicking away soda bottles. Help me, Zaltar! The Forces of Evil are mighty! Zaltar . . .

Did he answer? She felt his presence and took heart. She would overcome, as she had so many times before. She jetted straight into the air and launched herself at the thing . . .
Go through it like a rock through a window . . .
But she, who had broken through a steel tank, bounced off the hide of the monster as though she were no more than a grain of sand.

Her enemy was invisible and powerful. She needed to know what she faced. She drew on the core of energy that burned in her, pulled the energy from every part of her body into her eyes. They shone with a laserlike concentration and, for a fraction of a millisecond, she saw it—saw a nightmare, vast, shapeless, and evil . . . saw it reaching out for her.

She was crushed between enormous paws, then tossed away like .an unwanted kitten. She crashed against a lamp post. Lightning forked through the sky, and the laughter of the monster echoed the thunder.

Dazed, Supergirl regained her feet. Oh, you Invisible One, horrid monster from the Evil Empire, do you think you can so easily defeat me . . . ? Snapping the lamp post off at the base, she flew straight up into the storm with it, holding it aloft like a torch. Again and again, lightning bolts struck the post. Again and again, Supergirl's face contorted and her body writhed as the electrical charges poured through her.

Like a goddess afire, she dived downward. Down, down, straight down . . . aiming herself like a glowing arrow into the invisible evil. The impact lit the sky for two hundred miles, and for a split second, the monster was made visible. In that swift rush of time, that primal confrontation of light and dark, Supergirl saw the evil glory collapsing . . . shrinking . . shriveling . . . fading in a ghostly rush of dark anti-energy.

It was gone.

Gone.

She stood alone, trembling, exhausted, victorious.

And Selena? She stood with Bianca, trembling, defeated, and furious. She kicked furniture, clothes, the wall. She would have kicked Bianca had Bianca not had the good sense to duck behind the door. "Every time," Selena raged. "Every time! Send a monster to do a woman's job, and that's what you get.
Who is she?
"

Neither Bianca, nor the Coffer of Shadow, nor the dark regions below answered her.

Exhausted by her battle with evil, Supergirl had .a temporary lapse of attention and went straight back into the dormitory as herself. "Who's that?" Mrs. M. yelled, hearing Supergirl's steps in the hall.

Supergirl hesitated—did she have time to become Linda Lee? Her hesitation was fatal. Mrs. M. tottered out of her den. A happy smile appeared on her face. She hadn't forgotten how all that damn ruckus outside had upset her special communion with Dan boy. Now, she realized, she had a chance to make some ruckus herself. When she was younger, she thought with a nostalgic pang, she had made whoopee, but them days . . . Anyway, making ruckus could be almost as much fun.

"Where've you been?" she snarled.

"Outside, Mrs. M.," Linda Lee said meekly and added in a Linda Leeish tone, "I'm in now."

"Who gave you permission to go out? I'm in charge of you girls here." Mrs. M., coming nose to nose with Supergirl, was distracted by her red cape and skirt. "Well, I don't believe what I am seeing. What do you think this is, Halloween? You girls today!" With sublime scorn, she tossed her empty beer can into a corner. "You got no morals, no polish, no
finish
."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That is an indecent outfit."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You put on your school uniform and throw that lousy-looking little skirt into the trash. Why, if your mother could see you. Shame on youI And don't forget to cover up those legs," she added, thinking it was unfair for anyone to have legs that gorgeous when other people couldn't even watch Dan boy peacefully. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," she put in as a final shot and waddled back into her room.

Whenever Selena fell into one of her pensive moods, Bianca got a little antsy. Selena had been quiet for a long time, at least five minutes. What was she cooking up now? Basically, Bianca admired the way Selena could hatch up a scheme in two shakes of a frog's tail, but sometimes she wondered. Look how Selena'd gotten rid of poor old Nigel. Not that Bianca really cared . . . but why be so drastic? Nigel had his uses.

"The battle is joined," Selena said, breaking her silence. "My Power against hers" Selena tapped her ruby tips with a long ruby fingernail. "She flies. She has other powers. I cannot allow that. I will not" The rings on her fingers flashed. Her bracelets clashed. Her eyes glittered. She put the Coffer of Shadow down in the center of the room and slowly circled it. "Growing . . . definitely growing . . ." She snapped her fingers peremptorily, and when Bianca didn't respond, said, "What's the matter with you? I want the yardstick!"

Bianca sighed. Was she a mind reader? That was Selena's department. Back in the old days, Selena had been more satisfied—a little reading of the cards, a little caressing of the crystal ball. . . .
I see in your future a dark man . . . I see money in your future . . . and two trips to another place . . .
Used to be, she and Selena had themselves a ball or two or three. Life was a kick. Now, Selena was going overboard on this power stuff, getting—did Bianca dare say it?—bo-ring! Always with her nose in some old smelly spell book, or raving about this teenage kid who liked to wave her arms around and make like she was flying, or ranting about power, power, power. Bo-ring.

What was she up to now? She'd opened the Coffer of Shadow (after a little tussle) and was measuring that glowing whatchamacallit. Why bother? So it was growing a little; maybe it was natural. Bianca was growing a little, too; lately she'd noticed that her black gown with the silverwork was getting just a mite snug. Bianca puffed on her cigarette. Smoke more, eat less. Good thought . . . Such a good thought she almost missed hearing Selena mutter, "No more fooling around for little Selena. From here on in, no more Ms. Nice Guy."