Lafferty, Mur (16 page)

Few people were game for venturing out, Keepsie discovered. Those she had talked with last night who decided not to help her were openly hostile.

Coming across Alex’s name on the sheet, she tried his cell.

The voice that answered was quick and whispered. "Hello? Who's this?"

"Hey Alex, it's Keepsie," she said. "I just wanted-"

"Keepsie, where the hell are you?" he asked. He sounded terrified, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"I'm at the bar. Listen -"

"Keepsie?" It was Peter this time. His voice was much more calm than Alex's, but still hushed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm at the bar. Did you find the Librarian yet?"

"We've been captured by Clever Jack and Doodad. You have to tell the heroes that Seismic Stan is alive and with Clever Jack and Doodad."

"Oh my God, are you guys OK?" Keepsie asked, her heart pounding.

"We are fine. They also have the Librarian. I believe they are torturing her into learning the heroes' weaknesses so they will know how to best defeat them. You have to tell them, Keepsie, tell the heroes, tell them before -oh no," his voice dropped in despair.

"Wait, where are you guys? Where are they keeping you?"

The phone went dead. "Peter! Peter! Dammit, Peter!"

Tomas and Barry looked at her with concern.

"Clever Jack and Doodad have Peter, Michelle and Alex," she said in a wooden voice.

There was something else Peter had said, but Keepsie couldn't remember it.

"Where are they?"

"I don't know. He didn't get a chance to tell me, I guess Clever Jack found out they had a cell phone. What are we going to do?" she asked him, her voice shaking.

“There’s not much we can do, not with Doodad’s drones watching us. If he and Clever Jack see us coming-" Shit. "Tomas, it’s not just the two of them. It’s Seismic Stan too. Peter said we have to tell the Academy."

Tomas stared at her, his face growing white.

"We need to get out of here," she said.

He shook his head. "But Colette is on her way here."

Keepsie swore and ran past him and up the stairs to the street. A car drove down the cluttered street, and Keepsie saw Colette behind the wheel.

She waved at her and turned to look east.

A rumbling sound echoed over the buildings, and Keepsie stumbled. The glass in several storefronts cracked.

"Inside, now!" Keepsie yelled to Colette, who climbed out of her brown sedan.

Keepsie stood still for a moment, bracing herself on the railing, as her cook ran past her down the stairs. She then followed her.

When she got into the bar, Barry and Tomas were white faced and talking in low voices. They looked up when she walked in.

"This is it," she said, running behind the bar and rummaging in a toolbox.

"Ian is a turncoat, Peter, Michelle and Alex are captured, the villain who makes Jack and Doodad look like Boy Scouts is alive, and no one else will help us."

She stood up, a short bat in her hand. She flipped through the Rolodex, grabbed a card that was outlined in black and handed it to Barry. "Call the Academy, let them know what's coming and the information they're likely to need. Barry, Jason, Colette, let's, uh, arm ourselves, I guess." “But the Academy is gone. That glowing girl blew it up,” Tomas said.

“They have an answering service in case the phones go out,” Keepsie said. “They’re really efficient, if we take a moment to stop hating them.”

Tomas returned to the phone with the card in hand and started dialing.

Keepsie put the toolbox on the bar. Inside was an assortment of bludgeoning weapons from wrenches to short bats. Barry stared at her.

"Would you prefer a knife? I think Colette can lower the “no one touches my knives rule” for today," Keepsie said. Colette nodded grimly, her blonde braid bobbing off her neck. "But this is what I have to keep the bar fights to a minimum."

"Keepsie, I'm fifty-five years old,” Barry said. “My dreams of fighting super villains died about twenty-five years ago.” "Then why are you here?" she asked. "You, Tomas, and Colette are the only ones who showed up. Jason’s here by chance. I need someone to help. I need someone to have my back because I'm not sure I know what the hell I'm doing. I need someone who has planned his whole life to be a hero but the Academy decided otherwise. But if you are too old, then by all means, stay here. Of course, if Stan decides to get his revenge on the city, you’ll be in a basement in an earthquake with two stories of steel and stone above you."

Barry stared at her for a moment. Without moving his eyes from her face, he reached into the toolbox and pulled out a wrench. "I'm set."

"Good," she said with a nod. "Tomas, there’s a bat in the back if you want. Colette, get yourself a knife."

Colette walked into the kitchen, her jaw set.

Tomas slammed the phone down, causing Keepsie and Barry to jump.

"The answering service will not believe me. They said the heroes are too busy keeping the city safe to start chasing ghosts. They will not listen!" He broke off into a string of Norwegian.

Keepsie sighed. "Then it's just us, then. Great."

Colette returned from the kitchen, her apron on and her chef’s knife tucked into the strings. “I’m not going. Someone has to hold down the fort.”

Keepsie stared at her. “Did you hear us? Seismic Stan. Here.

Earthquakes. Basement bar. Besides, you know best how to filet someone, we need you and your knife.”

Keepsie expected Colette to go red with rage, but the color drained from her face. “So I’m dead if I stay, and I’m likely dead if I go.”

Keepsie put her hand on her arm. “If you stay and die, you’ll be alone, and won’t help anyone. If you go and die, you’ll be with us, and you’ll have tried to help Peter.”

Colette grunted. “Fuck. Fine. We’ll take my car.”

Her motley crew assembled, Keepsie took a moment at the door to compose herself, then opened it.

The street was deathly quiet. Keepsie wondered for a moment where the townspeople were; had they had evacuated or were they hiding in their homes? Another rumble sounded from far away and Keepsie staggered.

They piled into the car and sat panting for a moment, Colette at the wheel.

"So leader," Colette asked, "where are we going?"

Keepsie swallowed and pointed east. "Go that way. I hate to say it, but that’s where the rumbles were coming from, and wherever Stan is where Clever Jack and Doodad are. And wherever Clever Jack and Doodad are, that's where the others are."

Colette nodded, and floored it.

Keepsie turned around in her seat. The Academy still belched smoke from its innards, and Keepsie felt a shameful but true sense of satisfaction.

Colette drove them away from the carnage, swerving in the road to avoid more of Doodad’s robots that tried to jump onto the car. The rumbling continued and Colette swerved again to avoid trash cans and displaced parked cars. The road started to split ahead of them, a black crack in the asphalt.

“Oh, shit, Colette,” Barry said, bracing himself on the dash.

“Hold on,” Colette said, her voice low and concentrated. “My suspension’s going to be shit after this.”

She floored it and they bounced high as the car barreled over the broken road. The car gave a great groan and limped to a stop at the park. The rumbling stopped for the moment, and Colette turned in her seat, wincing as her she did so.

“I’ll probably need a raise to pay for a new car,” she said.

Keepsie took a deep breath, realizing she’d been holding it. “You’ve got it.”

Peter stared at the dropped cell phone, which had begun to short circuit against his face. He looked up and Doodad was glaring at him.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"We had it, you dumbass," Michelle said. "Should have frisked us, shouldn't you?"

Doodad colored. Peter remembered the reports on the news warning the populace of this man's intellect as well as his physical strength, and he groaned. The stereotype of being big and dumb was not one Doodad appreciated.

He was right. The cell phone animated at his feet at sprouted spindly metallic legs. It skittered across the floor towards Michelle. She gave a disgusted cry and shrank against the wall.

The cell phone leapt onto her thigh and dug its sharp legs through her jeans and into her flesh. Michelle screamed. "Get it off me!"

Doodad smiled coldly, watching her writhe as his construct dug itself into her leg. Michelle plucked it from her leg with a cry and with shaking hands threw it at the bars where it ricocheted and bounced onto the hall's dirt floor.

Doodad took a step towards the bars that separated him and Peter.

"Any more electronics in there?” he asked.

Peter opened his mouth, and Doodad held up his hand. “Never mind. I’ll find out on my own.” He concentrated and Peter felt his pocket writhe as his pocket change came to life and melted together, forming a small metal humanoid that crawled out of his pocket. Alex had a similar item crawl out of his, and Michelle swore as her rings and earrings slithered off of her like snakes.

The metal followed Doodad, who smirked and left.

Michelle sat and rubbed her leg while Peter stared after Doodad thoughtfully.

“I didn’t know he could do that with metal,” he said. “I thought he was good with only machines.”

It had been an hour since the Librarian had been taken from them. Peter wondered if the villains’ method of torture was worse than the heroes'. He hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

A metallic cot clinked down the hall, walking on stiff legs, followed by the stony-faced Doodad. The Librarian lay on top of it, dirt and twigs caught in her face and hair. She looked as if she'd been buried alive.

Peter rushed to the bars, Alex beside him. "Is she alive?" Alex asked.

"She's unconscious," Doodad said. "Lucky we caught you guys, now she won't die after all, will she, little healer?"

The cot walked into the cell as the bars bent themselves back. "She held out for a lot longer than Stan figured she would. Good luck with her," Doodad said, and left them alone.

The Librarian breathed shallowly, coughing weakly every few breaths.

"Can you help her?" Peter asked.

Alex placed his hands on the Librarian's ribs. He closed his eyes and nodded. "I think Patricia would be more useful here, but I think I can help."

"Patricia can only remove alcohol, not dirt," Michelle spoke up, and closed her mouth when Peter glared at her.

Alex’s face relaxed. "Ohhhhh… it's like an infection. I can do this. It will just take time."

Peter ground his teeth and forced himself to step back, knowing he could do nothing to help Alex.

"Do you think she gave them information?" Michelle whispered to him.

"Doodad says she did. I can't figure out why he would lie to us. It's not like he can trick us into giving him information -we don't have any," Peter said, watching Alex concentrate.

His healing powers were so slow. Peter couldn't see any change in the shallow, labored breathing of the Librarian. He paced the length of the cell, trying to think of a way out.

He hadn't had a chance to tell Keepsie where they were being kept. And if Doodad’s constructs and that glowing girl were attacking the heroes, they would be occupied with protecting the city, not tracking down the villains behind it all.

He sat against the wall and cradled his head in his hands. Michelle sat beside him.

"I was thinking about what you were saying," she said.

Peter raised his head wearily. "What are you referring to?"

"About my powers. That I might try using them offensively."

"Well, you can lift a lot of weight on a bar tray, right?" Peter asked, watching Alex.

"Yeah. That means I can probably throw something heavy, as long as it's on a bar tray, I mean. Or I could just throw a bar tray that had been shaved off at the edge."

Peter frowned. "You mean like a discus?"

"I was thinking something closer to Xena and her throwing circle thing, but yeah."

Peter looked around the sparse cell. "But we don't have a bar tray in here.” There were torch sconces in the wall, but no torches. The only thing in the room besides the four of them was the mechanical cot that held the Librarian.

"No. I guess not." Michelle lapsed into silence and stared at Alex, whose eyes were still closed.

Alex relaxed and sagged, staggering backward. Peter jumped up and steadied him.

"She's OK, now. All the dirt's gone, airway's clear," he mumbled, and slumped against Peter, who carefully lowered him to the floor.

Michelle bent over the Librarian, who was struggling to sit up. "How are you feeling?"

"Alex Cardon," she said, focusing on the unconscious man. "Very limited healing powers."

"Oh, that’s nice. He saved your life, bitch," Michelle said.

"Yes, I suppose he did," the Librarian said. She looked at both of them.

"So my rescuers are a woman who can control a bar tray and a man who can find limited information about someone by smelling them."

Peter ground his teeth. "So, what are your powers, anyway? We've got someone like you on our side, Wanda Greene, how are you a hero with a special name and a position in the Academy when she's a waitress?"

"Wanda Greene. Perfect memory, limited intelligence," she said. She was starting to sound like a computer. "My powers are perfect memory, enhanced intelligence, superior organization, cross-referencing, not to mention I am entrusted with the Academy's secrets. I am a hero, unlike a First or Third Wave human." She gave Michelle a pointed look.

Peter swallowed his annoyance. "But, then why did you help Keepsie escape last night?"