The Last Superhero (34 page)

Let the tears burst out
freely, let yourself come undone.

35

I ask for the TV not to be
turned on because every channel is talking about Steven and Salvatore
and Michelangelo.

Ross says it won't be long
before the protesters find out where we are and come to manifest
outside the hotel.

I glance at my phone
charging on the night table and see the notifications bar is full of
little signs that I don't want to check, don't care to see what they
have.

Even some old book blog I
once had has had more views than ever after this.

This whole situation is so
fucked up.

Add to that a burning
suspicion in the pit of my stomach and the fact that vomiting brought
back the pain in my chest and I don't have to swear to you that I'm
not okay.

I'm
laying in bed staring at the ceiling when Dad comes in to check on
me. Always the doctor; if he had a stethoscope he'd be listening to
my heartbeat right now. Since he doesn't have one, he just sits next
to me and I feel the mattress slump under his weight and look at him
and know what he's thinking, what every parent would be asking him or
herself:
How
do I make this go away? How do I make it stop hurting?

“
I
want to go see Mom.”

“
She's
okay. You need to rest.”

My hand finds his over the
covers. “I'm sorry for how I acted in front of the president.”

His eyes widen, peer into
mine, “None of that. You were brilliant.” And what is
that light? Is it pride? “I'd never seen you so... so
determined, Giana. It was awesome.”

His smile, that smile, the
bearded smile, that smile I know so well.

Blink
blink
,
he goes.

He bends over and kisses my
forehead before starting for the exit. “I'm taking Mari Paz to
the airport and then I'll take you to see your mother. Now try to get
some rest.”

“
I'm
not puking anymore if that's what you fear.”

He stares at me for a
moment. “I'll see you in a while.”

He leaves and I don't know
if I want to be alone or not. The only thing I know is that after a
couple of minutes I'm stepping out of the room to find Daphne glued
to her phone and Ross on a laptop while Suárez and Powell are
lounging on the balcony.

“
Don't
you people have somewhere else to be?”

Daphne looks over the
contraption in her hand, plucking off her earphones and side-glancing
at Ross.

Suspicious glancing, that
is.

“
What?”

Ross
goes
blink
blink
,
like Dad did.

“
We're
waiting to confirm some news...” Ross starts, doesn't finish
the sentence.

“
On
what?!”

“
Steven's
apparently tried to kill himself,” Daphne blurts, standing. “He
didn't get to do it. That, of course, if the news is right because it
could totally be some bogus rumor.”

“
I'm
working on that right now,” Ross adds before I can say
anything. “It's probably not true, like all of the news that's
been coming out.”

“
Like
what?” Do I really want to know?

“
I
told you I'm trying to get access to someone on the inside to tell me
what's going on.”

The bile. Up again.

Swallow it down.

So I sit and wait and hold
my head in my hands and think so many things my head starts to ache.

“
I'm
calling Wyatt,” I tell Daphne and she doesn't oppose.

He answers my call as if
he'd been anxiously awaiting it, sitting next to his phone in his
colorful living room in that apartment of his that doesn't give much
away from the outside, but inside is like a museum with all kinds of
weird art. I can count the times I've been there with the fingers of
one hand yet it's the kind of place you never forget.

And he says he'll be over as
soon as he can because he's been researching and has things to tell
me.

So I sit and wait some more,
trying for the bile to stay in, for the fear to stay out.

Then Ross's phone rings and
he rushes out to the hallway to take the call.

Now Daphne's joined me in
the wait.

We're on each other's team.

Ten
minutes and the door opens and it's Wyatt, not Ross, saying
hi
and
I've
been reading
and
you
won't believe it, but I think I know what we must do
.

But before he can say
anything else, Ross comes back and says he's also got news: “He
can't give us more than a week. The president, I mean.”

That was fast.

“
For
what?” Wyatt asks, concerned.

“
A
week?!” Daphne cries.

I feel a presence and
realize Suárez and Powell have emerged and are now standing
near us.

“
The
president has just informed me we've been cleared to visit Steven.
He's doing everything he can but can't make any promises about not
continuing with the original plan.”

“
What
is that original plan? You met already? What did he say?”
Wyatt's darting glances back and forth and, really, I don't want to
be the one to tell him what's going on, what we're fighting against.

I look over at the table
with the folder with the emblem with the eagle holding the olive
branch and the arrows.

“
They're
going to execute him,” I say, absentminded. “But I don't
care what we have to do, I'm not letting them.” Raise my head
to meet Wyatt's eyes. “We're not letting them.”

I get to see him, yet what
if the president's words are bullshit? It wouldn't be the first time.

“
I
need to see my mother.”

Not that she'll give me any
light on this, or maybe she will.

Ross nods, answers, “When
your father comes back from the airport,” and it makes me feel
like a kid, but it also makes me feel kind of okay, kind of relaxed,
so I sit at the table with the folder and browse through the papers
inside. A script, written for me, that I only skim through while
enduring Wyatt's questioning gaze.

“
They
want me to say I was a victim, that he manipulated me.” Shut
the thing, push it away, pull back, bring your knees to your face.
“If they only knew him.”

“
Then
let's make them know him.”

“
I
don't think that'll work. Have you seen the outrage out there?”

He ponders, frowns. “What
then? Keep all this a secret? That didn't go as planned.”

“
It
did for a while.” Daphne approaches us and Wyatt pats the spot
beside him on the sofa for her to sit. “And how do you suppose
we convince everyone that he means no harm? It's not like we can pull
a publicity stunt like they do with celebrities.”

Now Daphne's also deep in
thought.

“
I'm
with her,” she says. “You don't want to add to the
unrest. Although there are so many things happening in the world
right now that he could be of help...”

“
And
then what? Give him a red telephone so the government can call him
whenever there's some shit going on because they can't pull their
heads out of their asses and deal with it themselves? It would only
be the start of another vicious circle.”

“
He's
not the young man he used to be,” Wyatt comments. “His
powers may be intact, but his body has aged significantly.”

Watch it there, Wyatt.
Although, it is true. “Superheroes age slower, but they do age.
And, anyway, it's not like he can run away to some other planet once
he's fed up with everything and everyone.”

We're all sitting with our
arms crossed over our chests and eyes lost in thought when Dad storms
into the room and his voice breaks the silence.

“
Get
your things! We're getting out of here!”

And we're all quick to act
on his urgent tone.

They found us, the
protesters. From all sides of the spectrum. The pros, the cons, all
gathering outside with their megaphones and their signs so we make
our escape through the back where this young man manages to yank me
from Dad's grip and almost gets punched in the face, but he says in a
low voice, “Save him, please,” before Suárez
interposes himself between us.

“
We
know he's innocent!” the guy shouts, now joined by others, all
staring at me like maybe I'm an angel underneath.

So I stop my entourage and
approach them. “They are going to kill him.”

“
We
know,” the young man says. “They're violating his
rights.”

Then a
woman pushes her way next to the young man to tell me, “He was
a good man,
they
made him bad. They broke him.”

“
What
do you mean?”

“
They
experimented on him until he couldn't take it anymore. They wanted
his DNA, they wanted to clone him to create an army of trained
superheroes.”

“
We
need to move.” Ross grabs me by an arm and I notice the crowd
getting bigger, tighter, closer.

“
He's
not a murderer!” someone else says.

“
He
saved me once from an accident!” some other voice tells.

And a
choir commences to sing about acts of random kindness, of heroism,
mixed with pleas, and I find myself mouthing
I
know I know I know I know
while I'm dragged away, towards the underground parking lot and into
one of the SUVs where I throw whatever it is I'm carrying into the
trunk and sit next to Daphne and all those people are joined by more
people and their voices drown each other out until we can't tell what
they're saying anymore.

We're separated into
different rides.

Look back and see Wyatt
climbing into the other SUV with Suárez while Powell goes on
with Dad.

Ross drives us through the
sea of faces, through the police trying to push them away, but still
their words stay with you and you let them sink into your heart.
Words from people who knew him, people who care.

Until something hits the
windshield and sends Ross into a rush of curses and maneuvers as we
skid to the side.

36

We're still going even
though the windshield's busted. Ross's trying to see the road ahead
and says we can't stop or they'll get us.

This is so much worse than I
thought.

He puts Suárez on
speaker from the other SUV and everyone else is okay so they decide
to make a stop once they cross the state border.

“
No!
I need to go see my mother!”

He sends me a warning glance
through the rearview mirror. “It's too dangerous.”

“
I
don't care. I need to see her.”

He sighs.

Yeah. Sigh all you want. If
I bossed the president, don't doubt I'll be bossing you too.

“
Your
friend said he'd take care of everything.”