HERO

13 / Lightning In A Bottle

When your life depends on a decision, your brain can suddenly transform into a swamp. Strange things lurk in swamps. They swim just below the surface, swirling the waters around you enough to pull you under. You try to keep your footing, but the effort makes you sweat. You see the tip of the dorsal. It comes for you making you think of Jaws and, though you might look around, there's no air canister to ram into its mouth and nothing to shoot it with if there was.

You try to move, needing to get out of there. To clear your mind. To make that choice, but you realise the creatures lurking are your thoughts. They're submerged in the mire, not wanting to attack, but just trying to get out in the open so you can see and make sense of them.

Thomas picked up the first bottle. Red.

Oscar had gone over the differences between the vials multiple times, but still Thomas was struggling to remember. Usually, his memory was good. Or at least decent. He didn't have to much trouble remember facts learned at school. He had yet to forget the combination to the gun case kept behind the sofa at home. On both occasions that he'd need to access it when his father wasn't home, he'd done so quickly and easily.

That a ten year old knew how to shoot and, worse still had needed to, should have been sad but, to Thomas, it was life. Too many people thought their powers allowed them to do as they wished, and this included breaking into homes, regardless of whether the occupants where there or not.

He hadn't killed anyone so far, but knew it was only a matter of time. His father had taught him well and he could shoot both knee caps of intruders in quick succession, before the perpetrator had time to bring their powers to bear.

On the second occasion, there'd been two, so he'd had to shoot one knee cap apiece. Once they were down, he'd doubled up, to much screaming and cursing. One of them had been a TeeKay and had tried to force Thomas to turn the gun on himself. Another bullet in his left shoulder stopped him

Iain had been proud of his son. Defence without going to extremes was just how he liked things to stay. There was no need to abuse the situation. The people who were inclined to break in deserved to lose the ability to walk, so no tears should be shed for them. The police interviewed them and then moved on. They even congratulated Thomas on his accuracy and self control.

Cleaning up the blood was a job they both joined in on. Once it was finished, Iain treated his son to a movie and far too much ice cream for one serving. The squirming, moaning and still cursing bodies of the would be thieves were carried downstairs by Iain. Being a Jacker, he could manage both with ease. He deposited them in the street, leaving them to find a way to the nearest hospital on their own. One begged him to help them while the other aimed a steady stream of abuse at him. He ignored both.

Ignoring them wasn't just limited to Iain. Pedestrians walked around them or hovered over them with indifference. In the end, they had to crawl, forgoing a hospital to just get themselves home. A five mile crawl. It started to rain after about thirty feet and didn't stop until well into the night. It was enough to wash clean their trail of blood.

Shooting intruders was hard, but Thomas did it because he had to. Reasoning with someone who cut could you in two with a look was pointless. You had to be faster than them and you had to leave any doubt locked away with the firearms. Or you wouldn't be around to regret it.

The red liquid in the bottle moved slowly as he turned it, as if it couldn't quite be bothered to follow the laws of gravity and did so begrudgingly. Dark spots appeared and disappeared, gone before the boy could focus on them, making him wonder if they were really there or if it was a trick of his too stressed eyes. He'd seen them when the Fixer was describing them to him, so knew it wasn't his eyes, but the way they were there and then not made him wonder.

Blue. What was blue?

There were only four bottles! Four! Not forty, just four! Why couldn't he remember which was which? He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, thinking back to the day before. He knew he probably didn't have long. They'd be coming for him soon, he was sure. And, did it really matter? They all did the same thing, in the end. It was the aftereffects that he needed to worry about.

He could hear Oscar's voice in his head and tried to focus on it, putting himself mentally back at the Fixer's table.

"Blue. I like the blue. You see all those black dots? They're the real magic."

Thomas smiled, although he didn't know he was doing so. He'd got it. He was back in the office and he just needed to listen.

"You can't just contain the spots on their own. They'd just vanish and you'd be left with a whole lotta nuthin. The blue liquid is jus' water wiv a few additives to make em' stay put."

In reality, Thomas had asked questions as the man spoke, but in his imagination, recollecting the event, he stayed quiet and let him speak.

"As much as I like the blue, the green is my favourite. It tasted like lightning in a bottle. The red's taste varies between strawberry and blood. They both make your head feel like it's gonna explode. One will 'ave ya pasin' out 'n' the other like you wanna."

Thomas had asked which he should get. Which would work better or faster. Here, he just nodded.

"So, red, red, blue or green. Them's ya choices. I can't say which is best fo' ya. That's gotta be up ta you. The blue tastes like vomit, I'm told. Vomit where new pieces of puke keep appearing every time one of them dots appears. They don't stop comin' till it's fully digested. Means ya feel like yav puked inside and the acid is trying to get out through ya stomach wall."

He'd picked up the blue vial. Thomas had noticed the liquid was spinning in the bottle as if it was being swirled around, but the bottle was still.

"That swrkling. See it? Like a whirlpool? Yeah, well. That's what it feels like is happ'nin' in ya gut. When it's absorbed, ya whole body feels like it for at least a week. That's without the feeling yav got a thunderstorm ragin' in there."

The green bottle was picked up carefully, between forefinger and thumb. Oscar had looked afraid of it.

"This li'l beauty is the master of 'em all. Green is mean, kiddo."

When pushed to say exactly why, Oscar didn't want to elaborate.

"I ain't saying. If I do, ya might not wanna give it a try, but this one might be the right one for you."

Thomas had stared at the vials for at least five minutes, trying to decide. He couldn't and said as much.

"Well, they're supposed ta reach out to ya. Make it so you've got no choice but to buy exactly the right one. If they ain't..."

And Thomas had walked away with all four. None of which he particularly wanted to ingest but, though the choice of which to take was his, the choice of whether to at all wasn't.

He sighed and reached out for...

Shit!