Hero Types

Chapter 10

"...No?"
    "Was Lucas with you?"
    "Lucas was there."
    Gran nodded, pacified. She trusted Lucas. "Sometimes I worry about you."
    "I'm fine."
    "Always with that. 'I'm fine, Gran', 'I'm good'."
    "I am!"
    "A girl should have her secrets, but I just hope they aren't hurting you."
    She rolled her eyes, because Gran would always go for soapbox lines for dramatic effect. "Bye, Gran." She hugged her around the neck while she did the crossword in her slippers. She grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the table, slipped on her jacket and her bag, and met Lucas out front.
    "What's going on?"
    "We got a hint about Lucidity."
    "Oh, wow. I forgot about her." She shut the door, and he wasted no time kicking the car into gear and pulling away.
    "So did I."
    "Is she—"
    "The Houndsman popped up as well."
    "They're working together?"
    "Not as far as we can tell." It was already past six. Kit was hungry. She bit into her apple. "We're spread thin."
    She swallowed and closed her eyes. "Really?"
    "Sorry."
    She checked her bag. Maybe she would be able to get some reading done. She'd only read two chapters so far. "Where are we going?"
    "You guys are going to that old adventure park thing out on Long Island."
    "...When you say 'you guys', you mean..."
    Lucas wouldn't meet her eyes. She sat back in horror.
    "No..."
    "I'm so sorry, Kit."
    "No, you can't—is Jersey coming?"
    He ran a hand through his hair. When he was agitated, he generated a lot of static. It snapped in his fingers and he winced. "Jersey's solo." He offered a glance. "Howe's sick, he can't come in. I'm covering base."
    "Wait, but—"
    "Mardie doesn't need to be dragged into this."
    She wished that she hadn't answered his call. She should have known something was up. He hadn't given enough explanation over the phone.
    "Why can't I go solo?"
    "Because there's a ton of machinery around there and you could use it to your advantage."
    "Oh, come on. Fine, why couldn't Mickey go solo?"
    "I don't trust him enough."
    "But you trust him with me?"
    "Yeah?"
    "Jersey can go with him, then, and I'll find Lucidity—"
    "Who is in a mental hospital, full of people, where you would be conspicuous."
    She groaned. He patted her shoulder consolingly.
    "Sorry, Kit. Seriously, just ignore him. He'll leave you alone sooner or later."
    Somehow, she doubted that would work. But Lucas looked worn thin enough, so she shut up and was quietly miserable.
    They picked up Jersey on the way, and apparently he already knew the whole plan.
    "How's Howe?"
    Apparently she had also been the only one who didn't know their bookkeeper was sick.
    "Flu, I told him he should try going to an actual doctor for once." Lucas fixed his hair in the mirror while Jersey got in. "Here's hoping."
    "He won't go."
    "I know."
    Kit frowned while Lucas revved the engine experimentally and backed out of the parking spot. "How old is Howe?"
    "Dad-age," Jersey offered.
    "He's..." Lucas mouthed numbers. "Forty...seven? Shit..."
    Kit wondered what it would be like to get old. Lucas wasn't old, but she knew that he'd just turned thirty the past year and he'd acted weird about it for a while. Sometimes she accidentally thought about the future, and it excited and terrified her at the same time. Eight more months, and she could be free of bullying and her high school quiet-girl label; maybe forever. But what was she supposed to do then?
    They got stuck in evening traffic, so she had a lot of time to ponder that. She could have opened up her book, but she was saving that to be a shield from Mickey, and she also didn't want to open it. As superheroes, she thought, it seemed that they should have had a more efficient means of travel. Why couldn't they have someone who could teleport? How did you even find those people?
    When people asked her what she wanted to do after high school, she usually mumbled something about veterinary medicine. She never mentioned art school, because she had made that mistake once and it had been met with raised brows and disappointed 'Oh's.
    She supposed she would just continue with the hero work she was doing now. It was the best part of her life, and it had been for the last four years. As far as she knew, it had saved her life, in spite of the number of times it had required her to risk it. Superheroes and villains didn't bully each other. They just fought to the death, or, at least, to the imprisonment.
    It was much easier to get through than high school.
    Not that it didn't have its downsides. But even Mickey wasn't mean. He was just plain irritating. She thought she would have rather even put up with him than overhear any more locker room conversations.
    They met him at the CAA, and for reasons she was unaware of (though they had no doubt obviously been predetermined by her present company) he got in the back, because Lucas was going to drop everybody off like the world-saving soccer-mom he was.
    She didn't look up, so he tapped her shoulder. "Hi, Kit."
    "Hi."
    Maybe her tone was cool, or maybe he didn't want to egg her on so early on in the evening, but he sat back, looking pleased with himself nonetheless.
    They dropped off Jersey first. He vanished before stepping foot on the sidewalk, nothing but a dim shadow beneath the streetlights.
    "Call when you're done," Lucas said.
    "Got it," came his voice, and the door shut seemingly on its own.
    They drove out to Long Island. Traffic had thinned (as much as it ever did) by that time, and they arrived around seven-thirty. It was almost dark, and the bay wasn't far, so the last orange tendrils of sunset still gleamed off the water. Silhouetted against that like a jack o'lantern were the battered constructs of the somewhat-recently abandoned Pirates Cove Playland. A broken spiderweb mess of a small rollercoaster was caved in to the side, and a swing with tangled chains was visible by the scrambler. There was an abandoned trailer funhouse with a gaping cartoon mouth for an entrance, and the falling walls of a ticket stand. Kit shivered.
    "Come on, it was Halloween yesterday, wasn't it? Embrace the creepiness." Lucas encouraged then while they got out, bags on their shoulders. He opened the window and gave them further instructions: they were to wait, hidden, for the Houndsman to show up to the playground from hell, where he had been hiding for the last few weeks. Then, using any means possible, they were to detain and immobilize him, and somehow avoid being eaten by his spectral dogs.
    "I'll be at the CAA," Lucas finished. "Call me when you're finished."
    "Or if we need help?"
    "Well..." He shrugged. "Try to handle this one on your own. Okay? Kit?"
    He met her eyes. She sighed.
    "Yeah. I know."
    "Good luck."
    She watched his tires spin dirt into the night, and listened till the hum of the engine faded and it was just trees, birds, frogs, and wind howling through empty structures.
    "Well." Wew. Mickey crossed his arms and surveyed the park. "Suppose we should find a hiding spot."
    There was a go-cart course around the perimeter, inside the wire fence. The tar was cracked and brittle as they crossed over it. There was too much gravel on the grounds inside for grass to grow sufficiently, so it was wispy thin stuff that stuck up especially around muddy potholes and age-old styrofoam cups.
     They stopped in front of the funhouse, which was the only place in sight with an interior. The clown mouth beckoned them into darkness. Kit shook her head.
    "What the fuck...."
    Mickey chuckled. "Right?!"
    She smiled. "It's like..."
    He put on a theatrical expression and tried to deepen his voice. "Welcome to hell, children, leave your shoes at the door."
    She laughed for a few precious seconds because he was so fucking stupid, but she remembered what Lucas had said, and that if he was right (she didn't think so) she shouldn't encourage him.
    "Maybe we should find somewhere else."
    "Sure..." He turned and looked around. "Oi—all right, c'mere."
    He ran off. She watched him go before she realized he'd been telling her to follow, and then there was that minute where she stood wondering if she really wanted to follow where Mickey told her to. Curiosity got the best of her.
    He had picked up a heavy set of rubberized cables by the scrambler, and now he traced them around the ticket stand and to a dark spot behind the swings.
    "Ha!"
    She jogged over. He'd pulled up the panel of a big gray machine, and he was examining it with pursed lips.
    "What're you doing?"
    "This's long off the grid," he muttered, sticking his hand down in a space and putting his tongue between his teeth. He cocked his head and triumphantly drew out a set of wires. "But little places like these used to have generators...."
    The translucent wires in his arm and the gaps in his neck flared, and the machine whirred and hummed, warming up. Lights blinked on. Behind her, a squeal of jerky movement and a flood of confused electric blue, red, and yellow.
    Half of the lights on the swings blinked, and the scrambler hummed unsteadily. The funhouse flashed and glowed. The park had come alive, but like a zombie, dead-eyed and lurching.
    "Somehow," she said, "this's even worse."
    "This is an adventure," Mickey argued, slamming shut the panel and surveying his work with crazed satisfaction. He tapped her elbow and hurried away. "Come on. Get in the Halloween spirit."
    She groaned, hugged herself against the cold, and trudged after him.
    He pushed on a few lowered carts in the tilted scrambler and seemed to decide on the one that screeched the least. He undid the rope and gestured inside. She stepped back.
    "No."
    "It's perfectly safe." He smacked it, and the entire machine rattled. He shrugged. "Probably, I meant. Probably."
    "We need to be on the lookout, how does this help?"
    He jabbed his hand toward the sky. "Perspective!"
    She pushed back her bangs and sighed. "It doesn't look...safe...."
    He groaned. "You hurt me, Kit, you really do. No fun at all. Come on." He patted the cart again. She didn't think it looked like very much fun, but she got in to get him to stop. She needed to read anyway.
    He hopped in and it struck her as funny that he bothered to retie the rope over the door. They sat for a moment.
    "Now what?"
    "You gotta give me a second..." he lunged across her and groped over the side of the cart. She sat back and lifted her chin to avoid getting elbowed. She cursed Lucas in her head. Mickey's sleeve scratched her nose. It smelled like lint and gasoline.
    Then the tubes in his hand glowed, and faintly beneath his sweater, and it lurched to life. It was terrifying. The machine grated and lifted them slowly in a clockwise motion, shuddering and screeching as it went and the hydraulics wheezed. He released the machine and sat back, and it came to a jerking halt that sent them both sliding forward.
    She peered over the edge. They were a good fifteen feet off the ground. She questioned her judgement, and the fact that she couldn't get down without Mickey's assistance. It wasn't that she thought he would attempt to assault her; rather, now he could annoy her all he wanted.
    "Cool, right?" He sat up, looking rather pleased with himself, face flushed from the cold. She dug into her bag.
    "Um...can you keep an eye out?" She pulled out her book. "I have homework, it would—"
    "Yeah, of course. No problem."
    "Thanks."
    "Yeah."
    She frowned at him from the corner of her eye while she felt for her dogeared page. He stuck his hands in his pockets and watched the woods. There was no way it would last. She was convinced that he was planning something. He would never actually leave her alone, would he?
     It was hard to focus on her book. Not because he was distracting her, and not because she was nervous about the Houndsman. She always found it hard to focus on that book. She shifted in her seat every paragraph or so, rubbed her eyes, and tried to press on.
    The thing about cheap carnie rides is that they're not built to be sat in for lengthy periods of time. She checked her phone when her back and neck had been aching for some time, and it hadn't even been quite an hour. She groaned and stretched, then she sighed, readjusted her position, and tried again. She glanced over the top at Mickey, who was craning his neck and frowning.
    "What?"
    "Trying to see what you're..." She turned it, and he nodded. "Ah."
    "Have you read it?"
    "Oh, yeah." He yawned and scratched himself. "Yeah. I didn't...I really didn't see what all the—well, no, I don't want to say anything—"
    "I already know what happens," she said. "I wrote my report two weeks ago."
    He chuckled. It was quick and chirrupy, more of a giggle than anything really. "In that case—this may be lengthy, I'll warn you—I really didn't see what the hype was about. It's a classic, of course, but really not the most exciting one out there."
    "Yeah, I just think it's kind of boring."
    "Right. I dunno."
    They were silent. Kit leaned forward, but the movement she had spotted was just a stray plastic bag. She rubbed her hands together and blew on them.
    "Um..." She glanced at Mickey. She was supposed to be ignoring him. Unless Lucas was totally wrong. It didn't seem like he was flirting with her. He was warming up his hands too. "At the end. Did the girl's father tell her to try to get him arrested?"
    "Ah...well, depends on how you look at it." He wrinkled his nose and fixed his baseball cap. "I mean, she was quite desperate, she went after him to begin with. But—and it's reading between the lines here—it's inferred that her father abused her. He marked her up, right? But 'e goes and tells the court 'e saw her getting raped, protectin' himself, right, so...no, but not in the beginning. That was her."
    "Oh." She tucked the book back in her bag. "Okay, so—Boo. He's not actually bad, right?"
    "Oh, yeah, no. No. Scout's little, right, so it's not clear, but he probably has some kind of mental disorder. He saves her and Jem in the end, I think he was intended to showcase, ah..." He squinted at the moon and shrugged. "Well, things aren't always quite what they seem."
    "Yeah..." She curled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, thinking. Time passed. She took out her phone and checked the time again.
    "What's that?"
    "Just past nine."
    "Damn. This isn't much fun."
    "I know, imagine what it would be like if we weren't up here."
    He grinned and eyed her curiously. "Being funny, now, are we?"
    She stood up in the cart, squinting at the forest. The grin faded from his face and he tried to see as well.
    "Is that—?"
    "I'm pretty sure that was him."
    Their voices had dropped to a low hum.
    "Now what?"
    "Don't touch it," she said immediately, because he had moved to trigger the machine back into motion. "Keep quiet."
    She lifted herself out of the cart and crept around the edge. Mickey looked worried.
    "Kit...."
    "Keep it down. We have to jump."
    "Jump?!"
    "Shh!" She almost slipped trying to quiet him. She clung to the edge of his side and watched nervously. No sign of the Houndsman or his dogs. She perched carefully and took a deep breath.
    "You're going to jump all the way down there?" He craned his head over the side.
    "Yes, come down after me."
    "...Ah." He looked less than pleased. She swallowed, made sure her tongue was not between her teeth, and jumped.
    She had done that sort of thing before. There was a method behind it. She didn't like it, but she knew not how to break her bones. She landed a bit off and felt pain in her ankle, but she still rolled silently onto the dewy grass and got to her feet. She waved up. Mickey frowned in disagreement.
Hissss....
    The whisper was not from the wind. She spun around. Nothing but flashing lights and trees and the bay glimmering in the moonlight through the trees.
    "Come on," she mouthed. He pursed his lips and crawled out of the hole. She backed up. He stared at the ground.
    She cycled her fingers in a rolling motion, and he waved it aside.
    "I know, I know."
Shhhwwwwwwwooooo....
    She looked over her shoulder.
    "Mph."
    She spun back around. Mickey was sitting on the ground, rubbing his behind.
    "That really could've gone better."
    She held her finger to her lips while he picked himself up. She crept around the center of the octopus-like machine. She saw a purplish flicker, and heard a ghostly howl on the breeze.
    "Spooky."
    She jumped. Mickey's breath was in her ear. She pushed him and turned back around.
    A man in a worn brown coat slunk out of the shadows. Flickering dogs circled by his feet, lifting their spectral noses to the breeze and sniffing.
Vwwooom!
    She jumped again. Mickey had booted up his cannon arm. She pushed it down, shaking her head. He gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes. When she turned back around, the man had vanished.
    "AH!"
    She leapt back. Her shoelace was torn. A dog snarled at her. Mickey aimed at it, but before he could shoot it was just a puff of colored mist.
    "Shit—" Two more had appeared behind him. He blasted a hole in the ground, and she fell backwards from the blow. She felt hot breath on her neck and drool in her hair, and she flailed her arms and tried to protect her throat.
    The hounds were soundless, but for the windy sound of their movements. She felt them being jerked away, but heard no whines or yips. They weren't real. Mickey helped her up.
    "Was that all of them?"
    She shook her head, surveying the area. "It doesn't work like that."
    There was a sudden swell of light near the ticket booth. A pack of dogs appeared, circling, wispy hackles raised and fangs bared.
    "Ah." Mickey sucked in a breath. "I see, yes."
    The dogs charged, and they ran.
    She felt claws at her heels and ran faster. The grass and the mud was slippery under her sneakers, but the hounds floated inches above the ground. The night air was cool and it stung her cheeks rosy.
    Mickey turned and shot a blast, scattering them, and they hid behind the generator to catch their breath. The dogs skidded around the corner, and Kit threw up her hands. Gold light emanated outwards. They beat themselves against the wall, biting and scratching while she panted.
    "Why," Mickey said, "didn't we just stay in the machine?"
    "Because we need to catch him." Kit twisted around when she saw him go running. He disappeared from view once more. "Come on."
    She dropped the shield and took off. She skidded around the ticket booth and saw the ends of his coat whip the other way. She followed, and slipped in the mud. She fell hard on her side and as she picked herself up she saw another blast of blue light. Mickey appeared. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up, but let go suddenly. She almost fell over again.
    "In there!"
    He took off. She spun in confusion, but then the hounds were once more on their heels, so she chased after him. She paused for a second in front of the funhouse, debating over how much trouble she was really willing to go through for their cause, and he pushed her from behind.
    "Go!"
    She stumbled into the rotating funnel that was the entrance. She tripped and nearly fell, but recovered her balance in time and threw herself over to the other side. She pulled herself up and watched Mickey scramble through after her.
    "Come on, go!"
    She leapt up and continued running.
    There was a narrow hallway filled with spinning floor panels and sliding handlebars. She fell, and Mickey sprinted in a second later and fell on top of her just as she was getting up.
    "Ow—"
    "Sorry—"
    "Mickey, that's my—ow!"
    "I can't see!"
    The hounds appeared, however, glowing brightly, and they were able to find their footing and pick their way across as fast as they could. They sprinted around another corner, into a room full of strobe lights. Kit spun around, saw the doorway, and pulled Mickey after her.
    Hung in the doorway were heavy rubber strips, and they smacked her face mercilessly. She flailed her way through and into a black-lighted room full of ceiling-height warped mirrors. She looked for a way out, and a dozen Kits stared desperately back. What was going on with her hair?
    "Ah..." Mickey limped over to the wall and eased himself down.
    "What're you doing?! We need to—"
    "They've stopped," he said through gritted teeth, gesturing toward the rubbered doorway. "Baffled for a minute, at least. Ah..."
    She watched, incredulous, as he removed his shoe and rolled up his pant leg. Her stomach jumped. He winced and touched his ankle.
    "Ooh. That's not good."
    She'd never known that that much of him was made of metal. Suddenly, she was wondering just how much of him wasn't.
    "Hey—"
    The brown coat slid out of view. She glanced back at Mickey. He waved her on.
    "Right behind you."
    She chased the Houndsman.
    Kits darted between mirrors with her, short Kits, tall Kits, skinny Kits, fat Kits, Kits with serious spine problems and Kits with squat legs. Her shoelaces—what remained of them—glowed in the light. She saw another flicker ahead and smacked into a mirror. She dodged around it.
    A heavy sack swung over her head. She ducked, and a plastic mirror rippled like water under its force.
    The Houndsman spun soundlessly and a dog leapt at her hands. She formed a shield, which the bag bounced off of. Plastic bags of pills flew across the room. Kit socked him in his masked face, knocking his hat off.
    She spun when she felt a sharp bite on her thigh, but by then Mickey had kicked the monster aside. He grabbed the Houndsman's hands and forced him to his knees, and she ripped the amulet off his neck. The dog evaporated.
    She held it up, panting, and looked at Mickey. He shook his head at the man and looked toward the glowing exit sign.
    "Let's get out of here."
    She nodded and helped him usher the criminal out. "That sounds good."
    She called Lucas, but when the door opened it was Jersey driving.
    "He's at the CAA," he explained while she got into the passenger's seat. "I finished about an hour ago. What took you guys so long?"
    "He didn't show up for a long time," she said. She looked back. Mickey was tying the Houndsman's hands with the rope that had been in the back seat. "Where do we drop him off?"
    "Downtown, I'm thinking. They usually take care of it."
    The carnival lights gleamed in the rearview mirror. As they drove away, she saw them dying and fading as the generator ate up the last of its strength. She shivered and looked away. She was glad to be away from there forever.
    "Have fun?" Jersey joked. She touched the bite on her leg and glanced at Mickey.
    "Are you, like...?"
    He blinked. "Oh, yeah. I'm good. Yeah. I can, ah, repair it later."
    She nodded and turned back around. Jersey gave her a look, and she did ignore that. She fell back to her usual habit of looking out the window.
    They left the Houndsman out front of the station. Kit knocked three times and jumped back in the car, and they saw the door opening as they drove away. The amulet was still sitting on the dashboard.
    The CAA looked a bit like home when they pulled into the parking lot. It was past ten, and Kit was exhausted and hungry. She rubbed her arms and yawned. Jersey grabbed the keys and went to unlock the back door.
    "Hey." Mickey tapped her arm. She looked up. "You did well today."
    "Oh." She nodded, shuffling her feet. "Um...thanks."
    "Sure."
    Lucas was sleeping at the table. Jersey cleared his throat, and he sat bolt upright.
    "Oh! Good. You got him?"
    Kit tossed the amulet on the table. He held it up, smiling.
    "Great work, great work. As usual. Good job. Did everything go smoothly?"
    She glanced at Mickey. She was still uncomfortable with his behavior that night. She was so sure that this couldn't be it, that he had to have planned something to annoy the hell out of her.
    "I mean...yeah."
    "...Okay." Lucas frowned and looked back to the amulet. "Well, this is great. He's been a pain for too long. And Jersey got Lucidity. Ladies and Gentlemen, let's call it a day!"
    They locked up, grabbed their things, and headed out the front way, which was the only door that could also be locked from the outside. Lucas waited for them all to exit to lock it. Kit stood on the walkway, watching the moon over the buildings. The street was quiet, except for a single little taxi cruising down from the bridge. She shivered.
    "Do we need to be in tomorrow, Lucas?" Jersey asked, looking up from his phone.
    "No." He slipped his key out and patted the door, satisfied. He turned around. "You guys get Saturday off. Maybe you can—"
BOOOM!
    She flew backwards. Her head smacked something hard. Her vision blurred, and she stared straight ahead. Everything grew dark, and through the sheen and the pulsing in her ears she saw the taxi rocking on its blasted-open roof in the grass, roaring with flames. She blinked, or intended to, but her eyes wouldn't open back up, and the throbbing faded away along with everything else.