I Am Phantom (21 page)

“He
never wanted it,” I said quietly. “It was never his fault.” Dr. Ragan shrugged and
sat back down.

           
“You could say that. I guess the only thing you can blame him for is
anything he’s done since. Sykes escaped soon after that.”

“But
what about me?”

“What
about you?”

“The
serum drove Sykes insane. Why didn’t that happen to me?”

“Ahh…”
Dr. Ragan tapped his chin. “I’m not as savvy with this info since I was out of
the project by then, but I believe it had to do with your genes.”

“What?”

“Your
genetics, Drake. Project Midnight traced them and measured them before you were
even born, looking for the perfect candidates. There’s something about your
genes that make you more robust, more able to withstand the serum’s after
effects. For now, at least, who knows about later.”

“You
don’t seem to care what happens to me.” I pointed an accusing finger at him. “I
want the cure.”

“There’s
no cure. It’s in your genetic code. Besides, we gave you a gift!”

“That’s
what you and Sykes keep saying but all I see in this is a curse! I don’t care
if Sykes thinks his abilities are great now. You destroyed the man he was and
maybe the man I’m going to be, and you made me a target for the people who
worked for you. How is that a gift?”

Dr.
Ragan slowly reached out his hand as thought trying to touch an invisible
cheek. “If only…if only they had what you possess. They would still be here.
Their lives would have been fruitful and happy and I would get to see the
wonderful people they became before I died. That is your gift, the gift of
survival.”

I
grunted and stood up, letting Dr. Ragan know that this was the end of our
conversation.

“You
still don’t seem convinced,” Dr. Ragan mused.

“Gee,
how’d you figure that?”

He
steepled his hands in front of him and looked at me over the tops of his
fingers. “Perhaps there is someone else who can help you. Someone you can
better relate to. There’s a chance they could help you figure out what you’re
looking for.”

“Thanks,
doc,” I said sarcastically. “Unfortunately, the person like me happens to be a
teensy bit unstable. Sorry to disappoint.”

“I
wasn’t talking about Sykes. I wonder if he mentioned there were three other
children they tested on.”

I
froze and nearly stumbled. I whirled back around and tried to see if he was
telling the truth. Dr. Ragan didn’t move and his expression didn’t give
anything away. “You know about them? I thought you said you weren’t involved in
the project.”

“Correct.
I had nothing to do with any of the illegal activities Project Midnight did
after I thought I shut it down.” He put his hands down. “That being said, I did
feel it was my right to get some of the data from their computer. Including the
names and last known locations of the three other children they tested on,
including you, Drake Sinclair.”

“I…I
don’t believe you.” I tried to get up, to act like what he said didn’t matter,
but his words apparently made my legs stop listening to me and I could only sit
there and try to process what he said. Here I thought the only man who knew the
locations was crazy, and now they were within my reach. I could find the others
like me. We could figure out this problem together and stop Project Midnight. I
held out my hand.

“Give
the information to me.”

“It’s
not here,” Dr. Ragan said. “I kept the data here and I kept it safe for an
instance just like this.” He rubbed his haggard face. “I did not pursue any of
the children, though I could have. For all I know you grew up in relative
safety. You deserved that chance, at least.

“You
will get it, Drake, but for now I think it’s best I keep it. Until this revival
of Project Midnight is over and Sykes is re-captured, I feel as though you have
other things on your mind.”

My
hand dropped limply to my side. “I need those names, Dr. Ragan.”

“Not
right now. Priorities, Mr. Sinclair.” He almost looked sincere. If I had had
any clue where he might have been keeping the information I would have taken it
right then, but I had nothing. I sighed and crossed the room and opened the
back door. The chilly night air was a brief shock to me. “Sykes…right. He’s
almost unstoppable. I need something, anything, to help me stop him.” I turned
back to Dr. Ragan. “You have anything?”

“Have
you listened to a word I’ve said? You have the means within you. You’ve had it
all along. The only person who can beat a superhuman is another superhuman.”

“That’s
what I thought.” I stepped out the door.

“Drake?”
I paused just before the moonlight touched me.

“What?”

Dr.
Ragan looked pained. He leaned towards me from his chair. “Can you forgive an
old man for his past mistakes? Can you forgive him for his pride and arrogance?”
I looked back into his hopeful eyes, brimming with expectation. As if whatever
I said next would affirm something he had been tortured by for too long.

“No,”
I said. “Not yet.” I left the door open when I left.

Chapter
Thirteen

Tightening
the Noose

Phantom
returned the moment we got back from winter break. Sure, there were new classes
to go to, but Cody was still in Political Science with me. And sure, police
Chief Ryans had sent out a public warrant for Phantom’s arrest but hey, you
can’t take criticism personally.

A
couple weeks passed and I took down a couple more small time jobs. Nothing too
exciting, just drug dealers and a kidnapping or two. Being shot at or almost
killed had kind of gotten routine to me, which was both good and absolutely
terrifying.

           
I saw no sign of Sykes. Not that I was looking very hard for him. Dr.
Ragan’s revelation had left me more reserved about facing him than ever before.

But
even stranger than not seeing Sykes was seeing Phantom.

Everywhere.

Posters
and signs of me were plastered all over campus. I was on dorm room doors, light
posts, outside the cafeteria, even some local business windows. All had some
catch phrase like:
Phantom: Savior of
This City
or
Phantom Owns This City
.
Things I would never be caught dead proclaiming as I took down bad guys.

            
“Don’t,” Melanie said as we were walking back from class. I had just
torn down another sign with Phantom’s hooded face on it. (
This Area Patrolled by Phantom
. Um…no it wasn’t). “You want them to
like you.”

“I
know, but isn’t this is a little over kill?”

“No,
it’s good. The students love you, which is great for your image? This is all
good for your image. The less they see you as a menace, the better. I heard a
couple of my friends talking about how much safer they feel on campus with you.
And they think you’re hot.”

I
snorted. “They can’t even see my face. And hotness won’t stop Project Midnight
from doing everything they can to get me.”

My
phone beeped and I checked it.

                       
Got something for you. You close?

                                                           
Cody

“Cody
wants us,” I said. We immediately changed direction and headed towards my dorm.

“Possible
Project Midnight activity near the docks,” Cody said as soon as we were all in
his room. “Off Queensbury Lake. It looks like it’s attracting some interest on
the scanner.” I leaned over his shoulder and looked at the red blip that had
showed up on a grid covering the city.

            
“It’s dark in two hours. I can be out there in an hour and a half. Is it
another Project Midnight lab or are they just stealing things?”

“It’s
been stolen from before,” Matt said. Another click. “It holds a lot of
materials Project Midnight could use. But it could be just some normal gang
activity.”

“Right,
‘normal’ gangs. I love those.”

“Well
whoever is there doesn’t look like they’re doing drug work. And if its arms
dealers moving weapons then we want you there to stop them.” Matt peered closer
at the screen. “It looks like the police are going because someone left them an
anonymous tip that something might happen there tonight.”

“Interesting,”
I said. “I guess that’s as good an invitation as I’m going to get.”

                                               
#

Tall
buildings whipped past me, dotting the skyline like a thick forest canopy. We
had plotted the least crowded route there so I only saw a few cars and way more
rusting metal sidings and houses with yards that would not win Garden of the
Month. This part of the city seemed to be rotting from the inside.

The
neighborhoods and back roads spit me out at a lakefront shipping yard. Large
numbers hung from each one above unmanned cranes, unused crates and a whole
bunch of other un-things.

I
killed the engine and stashed it out of sight. Lapping waves and lakefront
stink mingled with my footsteps.

“Warehouse
six. There should be a skylight,” Cody said on the earpiece. I dashed under a
lip of roof sticking out from the warehouse above me.

I
shot my grappling hook onto the metal edge above me and started up. The roof
creaked as I landed but the sound was soon lost as the building shifted and
groaned in the wind coming off the lake. My shoes gripped the slick metal and I
moved until I was perched above an open skylight looking down into the
warehouse floor almost thirty feet from the ground.

There
were at least twenty gang members inside. Some leaned against crates, others
played cards under lamplight and still others patrolled the area, guns tucked
under their arms.

“Matt,
it’s a gang. Any police activity on the scanner?”

“Nothing,”
he said. “And I’m not seeing anything like Project Midnight.”

But
the longer I looked the more—off the gang looked. I’d broken up enough
gang get-togethers that I could tell that there was something different about
these guys.

“Umm…”
Cody’s confused voice came through the earpiece. “Does that guy have a pack of
Big Bubble Bubble gum? The one near the doorway?”

 
I looked at the guy reclining against the
wall. He blew a bubble and it burst with a loud pop!

“Yes.
Yes he does,” I said. But before I could elaborate a guy smoking an electronic
cigarette caught my eye.

“What
the heck—?”

“Didn’t
think they could afford that,” Cody said. “Maybe they can. Didn’t think they
cared that much.”

I
decided I needed to get a closer look at these guys. I lowered myself in and
tiptoed to the edge of the landing. There came another pop! From Mr. Bubbles
near the door. One of the guys leaning against a supporting beam checked his
watch.

“Are
they coming or what?”

Another
man threw his hands up exasperatedly.

“Tenth
time you’ve asked. I don’t know, gosh darn it!”

Gosh
darn it? Either these guys were fake or they were the lamest gang members I’d
ever seen.

“White
Rook?”

“Yes,
Phantom.”

“I’m
thinking this is the police.”

“I’m
thinking that too. Golden Eagle, anything else on the scanner?” The typing
stopped and Matt’s voice grew closer as he rolled towards Cody.

“Why
do you keep asking me that?”

“We
have a bad case of the gang-is-not-really-a-gang-syndrome. They’ve laid a trap
for Project Midnight but they’re a no-show.”

“What
about lame gang down here?” I asked.

“Leave
them,” Cody said. “Project Midnight isn’t stupid enough to come tonight.”

“Done,”
I said. “Heading out—” I paused mid-turn, about to climb back up to the
roof. A ghostly shape had materialized from the late night fog on Queensbury
Lake, growing closer with each second. It was a small, rusting shipping boat.
The floodlights strapped to the front beams illuminated men with Project
Midnight uniforms on the deck.

The
boat docked and the men leapt off the side and dashed into the cover of
darkness near the warehouse door. I made a decision. I jumped back down onto a
warehouse rafter and loudly pounded the metal. Lame gang’s heads snapped up.

“Get
your guns out!” I yelled. “They’re at the door!”

Lame
gang fumbled for their weapons and aimed them at me. Ryans himself pulled off a
hat and aimed a pistol at my head. “Put your hands up and come down slowly!”

One or the other, man, I
can’t do both
. I pointed
to the door Project Midnight was now opening.

“Look
alive!”

Lame
gang spun around. I watched some of them look between both of us, trying to
decide:
Group of guys with guns or one man
without a gun? Group of guys with guns or one man without a gun…
Queensbury’s finest, ladies and gentlemen.

          
Both groups froze. It would have been comical if there hadn’t been, you
know, the possibility of them killing each other.

Finally,
a man in front yelled, “Drop the weapons! Queensbury PD!”

Project
Midnight started shooting.

I
saw one officer take it to the chest and hoped he was wearing Kevlar under all
that get up. Ryans ducked behind a steel beam. I was completely forgotten as
men found cover and exchanged smatterings of fire.

“Get
out of there, Phantom!” Cody shouted over the roar of machine gun fire. I
ignored him, waited until there was a brief lull in the fighting, and swooped
down on Project Midnight. I landed on one guy and heard a snap as his leg gave.
Two more spun and rushed me but I moved to Crane pose and in two swift strikes
both dropped, clutching their chests.

An
arm closed around my throat and stars flashed in my eyes.

“You
will watch him die,” Sykes hissed in my ear.

I
tried to get under his arm but his grip was like iron. He pulled me around until
we faced Ryans. Bullets buzzed like hornets around him and pieces of wood from
the crates littered the floor.

“You
know what he did. Now he’s going to die by the same hands he once worked for,”
Sykes said. A gas grenade exploded on the far side of the warehouse. Putrid
smoke wafted our way. Ryans looked up and saw us and the remaining members of
Project Midnight trickling out the door.

“Sykes!”

I
slammed my head back, feeling it connect with Sykes’ face. Before he could
recover I drove my elbow into his stomach and hurled him through the wall and
out of the warehouse. I heard shots behind me as I leapt out the hole to
follow.

             
Sykes was gone. “What were the casualties?” I yelled into my earpiece,
aware of Ryans probably following behind me. I started running down the
waterfront, sure this was the only way Sykes could have gone.

              
“None so far,” Cody said. “They might not have put them on the scanner.
That or nobody got hurt.”
           
 
“I doubt it,” I said. I
stopped running. The warehouse was far behind me. The few gunshots remaining
seemed a million miles away. The faint, sour taste of the gas grenade lingered
on my tongue. And there was someone nearby.

         
 
“Why did you save him?”

             
I couldn’t pinpoint where Sykes’ voice came from. There were at least
three warehouses around me. He could have been in any of them. “Why did you
save Ryans? A man you knew had helped hurt you. You knew he was a part of
Project Midnight. Dr. Ragan told you.”

How
did he know what Dr. Ragan—?

My
blood went cold. I was suddenly, painfully aware of my own breath rattling in
my lungs, my heart rhythmically pulsing, and how easy it could be to stop both.
But they were still going, for now.

 
It made sense. How Sykes seemed to know
where I was. How he had appeared at just the right times. How it was nearly
impossible for me to find him without him wanting to meet. Because he had
known.

He
had always known.

         
“You’ve been following me.”

        
“Ever since you arrived in Queensbury,” Sykes answered. He seemed to be
changing locations. I edged over to a brick wall. Partly to get better out of
sight, partly to steady myself. “That’s why I was there at the Project Midnight
lab. And the train,” Sykes continued. “How I’ve known everything you’ve done and
everyone you’ve met since you came here. Your friends you’re on the earpiece
with right now, your little girlfriend. All the people you’ve surrounded
yourself with to make believe that you’re normal. You’ve been a great help.”

        
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, trying to keep him talking.

        
“You were bait, Drake. It was only after you arrived that Project
Midnight really started becoming active again. Well, after Phantom arrived.
They knew only someone with their serumed abilities could pull off the feats
you were doing. And that got them interested, which made them vulnerable. They
wanted the perfected serum and I…” He laughed humorlessly, “the serum that ran
through my veins was imperfect. No, they needed yours. They would come where
you were, and I would follow right behind.”

    
     
 
“But no more.” His voice was growing more
faint. I still couldn’t pinpoint it. I don’t know if I even wanted to anymore.
How many times could he have killed me? How many of the people I cared about
did he know of?

           
“It’s obvious you don’t care enough about what happens to you to really
stop the people who did this to you. You aren’t willing to do what is
necessary. You have no use to me anymore. But you will be sorry.”