Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel

4: Fight Dirty

“Tell you what,” he said. “We see what we can fish up. If it stinks, we throw it back. It it’s clean, well, we’ve got ourselves a nice juicy paycheque wriggling on the end of our hook.”

She chewed her lip. She wasn’t convinced. Could they really walk away from the money when they’d already put time and sweat into it? It’d be better to break away now, leave it clean. If Frank Julius was telling the truth, he’d find another way to get his nephew back. Someone with the resources to do the job proper.

“I can see police lights,” Solomon said, cutting through her thoughts. She saw them too. The road had opened up, and now it was a straight line all the way home. Back into the Old City. Blue and yellow flashed off the buildings. They were in Epsom. Her neighbourhood. Shit.

“Shall I press the button?” he said, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

Bloody man-child. “Do it.”

He stabbed the central button on the dashboard, and the car let out a groan. She held the steering wheel tight as weight shifted in the back. Solomon flipped the switch next to the button.

The miniature rocket engine in the back of the car screamed to life. It felt like someone had punched her in the chest. The car roared and leapt forwards, throwing her back in her seat. Her stomach churned. The road markers on either side became a blur, and she struggled to keep the car from skidding off the road.

Solomon whooped and grinned. She would’ve hit him if she was willing to take a hand off the wheel.

The first of dawn’s fingers were clawing their way over the horizon, streaking the sky with pink. She guided the rocket-propelled car down the increasingly narrow street as buildings streaked past. It gained them a few minutes. Maybe, maybe they’d be in time.

They were back in the Old City now, and the contrast between here and Neo-Auckland was staggering. She flew past the made-in-bulk apartments that took up half the street. They were built after the bomb hit, when the government in Wellington wanted to get the city back on its feet. Of course, after the Nagasaki incident, they changed their minds in a damn hurry.

Funny how things turned out.

“Now.”

At her signal, Solomon disabled the rocket, and the pressure on her chest eased as the car slowed. They topped a small rise and looked over the neighbourhood. People were emerging from their homes, staring at the Met Div lights a mile or two away. They kept driving.

Niobe pulled over before they were close enough for the coppers to spot them, parking inside the garage of an abandoned villa they sometimes used as a safe house. If someone recognised the Ford, she didn’t want them to track it back to Solomon’s family. Or to her and Gabby, either.

They trotted the rest of the way on foot, keeping to the dawn shadows. People milled outside their homes and apartment buildings, most dressed in pyjamas and robes. Some pulled on costumes as they emerged from their buildings. Those who used to work as heroes were required to wear their costumes when interacting with the authorities. It made them easier to identify. Occasionally, a meta would make the sign of the First Heroes and utter a quiet prayer. It was a stupid religion. Dr Atomic was long dead, and he wasn’t going to be saving anyone anymore.

Solomon tugged on her coat. “I’ll scout ahead.” She nodded and he jogged away, moving amongst the growing crowds with ease.

Niobe jumped a broken fence and passed across two abandoned properties, coming out on the street alongside. Nearly there. A group of coppers were a couple of hundred metres behind her, pushing the crowds along the street. Niobe fell into line and nudged a woman with a child in each hand. “What do the coppers want?”