Hero Types

Chapter 5

"...be back soon."
    Kit's head hit her shoulder and she snapped awake. She rubbed her eyes and squinted into the light.
    She was curled up in a chair at the table. Soft morning streamed through the windows. Jersey was on the other side, his head in his arms, blinking sleepily at the wall. Howe was watching over Mardie, who was breathing gently now. Mickey was asleep in the corner, his head against the wall.
    "Mmm..." She groaned and sat up. Her back hurt. She tried to crack it. Pins and needles stabbed at her legs when she stretched out. "What—" She yawned and shuddered, wiping her eyes. "What...time...."
    "Little past seven," Jersey said. She yawned again.
    "Where's...is Lucas—"
    "Not yet. But he just called Howe."
    "He'll be back soon," Howe said again. Kit looked down at Mardie. She looked different. There was something about her that was just very slightly off, as if every shade of color in her body had been dulled by a percentage of .01. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and there was no sweat on her forehead, nor an icepack.
    "She seems to be doing better," Howe confirmed.
    "You still don't know what it is?"
    "Not till she wakes up."
    "If," Jersey said under his breath. Kit grimaced and retied her bun.
    "Is Benji okay?"
    "He's still sleeping," Jersey said. "But he's going to wake up sooner or later."
    "Mmm." They looked at Mickey. He rubbed his face and squinted out the windows. "Bloody 'ell." His nose sounded stuffed up. He looked at them.
    "What about you?" Howe asked. "In one piece?"
    "Oh, yeah." He stretched and patted himself down. "Intact, I think. How's that one?"
    "She won't wake up," Kit said. He was quiet.
    There was a noise from the hall. Benji stood in the doorway, hair piled on his head, rubbing his eyes. He stood on his toes and tried to see Mardie over Kit's head. "Why..."
    "Kid." Howe hopped out and ushered him out of the room.
    Mickey came over and looked down at Mardie. Nobody spoke. Jersey sighed heavily and cracked his back.
    "Lucas," he said, "will be back soon."
    Mickey nodded. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well. Guess that's my cue. I'd best be heading back, anyway."
    "You might want to stay," Jersey said.
    "Ah...no, I don't think so." He tapped his metal hand on the doorframe, shrugging. "'S been a pleasure. This is a bit out of my league."
    "Like it or not," he said, "you're kind of a part of this now."
    He chuckled. "Haven't I always been." He touched his cap and glanced at Kit. "Suppose I'll be seeing you around, then."
    They watched him go.
    "Yeah," Jersey said after a minute. "All right. He's still kind of a creep."
    "Where do you think he lives?" she mused.
    "You know, I think he's one of those people—where it's either in a penthouse...or under someone's stairs."
    She smiled and stretched out again.
    "You need my phone to call your grandmother?"
    "Wh—I...no." Hers was in her bag anyway. "She won't worry for another couple of hours." Spending nights out on the town (not in the normal sense, of course) was a regular occurrence in the Folly household.
     Howe reentered. Benji crept along behind him. He stood in the doorway and stared at Mardie. Howe took a seat.
    "Was that Mickey leaving?"
    "Yeah."
    He rubbed his forehead. "We'll be needing him again."
    "He knows."
    Benji had left the doorway. He sat down next to Mardie and curled his knees to his chest. Kit got up.
    She sat down beside him and said nothing.
    Lucas arrived a few minutes later. He came through the back with donuts and a copy of the police report, looking tired and disappointed. He set the donuts on the table and looked at Mardie.
    "She's been out all night," Howe said.
    He fell into a chair. Kit grabbed a pumpkin donut and nibbled at the edge. She was starving.
    "I've got nothing," he said at last. He tugged at his mustache and shook his head. "Absolutely nothing. No fingerprints. He was long gone by the time the cops arrived on the scene. Not a trace."
    They sat in stunned silence.
    They'd been beaten before. But they'd never been beaten that bad.
    "Fuck," Jersey said.
    "Ugh...language."
    "Mardie!"
    The others rushed over. Mardie blinked and grimaced. She coughed. Kit helped her sit up, and Benji watched, wide-eyed. She wiped her face and grabbed his hand.
    "How do you feel?" Lucas demanded. Mardie had been his right-hand-woman for practically his entire nocturnal career. A hero and their sidekick had a special bond, and a special pain that came with the injury of one or the other.
    "Mint," she said. She stifled another cough and squeezed her nephew's hand. "I'm all right, hon."
    Howe tried to put his fingers under her neck to check her pulse, and she swatted him off, saying, "Really, I'm fine."
    "What happened?" Jersey asked.
    "I thought he was going to break your neck," Kit said.
    "There was this green light and everything..."
    "I feel fine," she said again. She pushed her hair back, nodding. "Just...worn out, I guess."
    "We have donuts."
    "Sign me up..." She reached out her hand to summon one, smiling, and waited.
    Nothing happened.
    "Here." Benji jumped up and ran to get her one. The rest of them sat still. When he handed it to her, she continued to stare at the table.
    "Maybe you're tired," Kit suggested.
    "You're definitely tired," Lucas said. He looked deeply disturbed. "Get something to eat, you'll feel better."
    Kit met Jersey's eyes. He shook his head and grimaced.
    Lucas would be in denial for days, weeks, months. In fact, his denial would never cease until he had absolute proof of what was really going on, and even then, he would remain adamant that there had to be a loophole, there always had to be a loophole. He would deny it forever, as long as it let him keep his sidekick.
    Kit left just after Jersey did. She didn't want to get in the middle of everything, and she wanted to let Gran that they were all, at least, alive.
     But there was something sitting in the pit of her stomach, and it was cold and slimy and very heavy, and it felt an awful lot like dread.
    And it let her know that from then on in, they'd be locking up by hand every night.