Better to Die a Hero (10 page)

Nora’s mouth fell open. “I have to sneak back in at least by twelve o'clock, there’s no way I can stay out any later.” She looked to Steve for support.

Steve’s voice cracked. “Bryan, we have to give Nora a ride home.”

“Oh, all right, I'll give both you guys a ride home,” he said, “but then I'm coming right back.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as they proceeded down the pedestrian trail. Steve pretended not to notice.

The trail soon led them to a dimly lit parking lot. Two low riders, one purple and one black, parked under a lamp next to a sign that read -Park closes at 10:00 P.M. - pounded out gangster rap audible for half a mile. Nora asked how such vile lyrics like those assaulting their hearing could ever be released to the public. Bryan said something about the price of recording electronics being so cheap anyone could record a rap and burn it to disc.

When a predator roars, the animals of the forest scurry, instinctively circumventing the area and so it is in the city. Normally, the three would have detoured around the hostile lyrics without thought or hesitation—but they were no longer normal. The powder, by bestowing upon them superhuman strength, endurance and reflexes had indirectly boosted their courage. Still, it had been tempting to avoid the scene until Nora mentioned how a blaring stereo could be used to cover up the sounds of crime. Although the boys thought it unlikely, the three unanimously decided to continue on, course unaltered. As Bryan pointed out, if they were serious about patrolling the park they needed to investigate all activities.

Steve took a deep breath, focused and turned his attention on the noisy group. The world around him blurred and grayed except for the group that took on the form of a still picture rushing into his face. The knowledge of friends standing alongside vanished as details flooded in defining the scene: 5 males, 2 females, 17 pieces of jewelry, and 53 articles of clothing.

Where am I? Steve thought.

An over whelming data stream drowned out his internal voice: 37 buttons, 157 textures, 569 angles, and 633 curves.

A crescendo buzz developed in Steve’s inner ear, followed by pain and then loud pop. His world suddenly fell back into place. Again fully aware of the environment, he slapped his forehead in an attempt to rid himself of a lingering low-level buzz. While the original snap shot in all its detail remained available in memory, the experience was unsettling.

The would-be heroes relaxed as they passed the rainbow of skin tones rounding out the noisy group. Many of the cliques in Queens weren't as segregated as those on the island or South Bronx, which meant less hostility. Never the less, Bryan conjured up the toughest look a normally jovial face could muster and drilled it through the gathering. It would have been taken as a major show of disrespect and a challenge, had anyone been able to see it behind the goggles and mask.

“Uh, Oh.” Nora said, glancing at her two partners.

“Hey, mister pajama head, where do you think you're going?” A mean looking man with shaved temples stepped forward. Group laughter followed.

Steve was just about to suggest they ignore the comment and keep moving when three of the young men darted out, blocking the trail. The other two moved a bit slower taking a position behind the teenagers.

“You really don't want to do this,” Bryan said displaying his middle finger.

“Oh look, mister pajama head can talk,” the mean one said, “Hey, Marty look at this, we got us a sexy cat woman, a chubby masked man with an “M” on his chest and a clown. What do you make of that?”

“I think it's too early for Halloween,” Marty replied. He reached behind his back and withdrew a pair of black nunchaku.

The man’s cohorts backed away as he flung the chained sticks over one shoulder then the other. He spun the sticks around his waist, then neck in a blur of black and silver. Covered only by a slim leather vest, his stomach, chest and arm muscles flexed to the rhythm of the hurling sticks.

“We're not looking for any trouble,” Steve said, stepping out in front, “so if you just move out of the way we'll be going.”

Bryan blurted out from behind. “Kick his ass Mongoose.”

“Mongoose? What
a
joke
, come on Mongoose mother fucker.” Marty stepped forward. Only a few feet now separated Steve’s face from the deadly weapon. The nunchaku hissed as it sliced the air.

Over years of gaming, Steve had participated in hundreds of hand-to-hand combat scenarios that played as clear in his mind’s eye as watching a movie. He knew all the moves—in theory. Heart pounding, fear electrifying his limbs, he still managed to stand strong as the man charged, the hard weapon whirling a deadly pattern. Adrenaline pumping, the timing of the chained sticks instantly known to him, Steve easily slipped past the danger to the man's outside right and hammered his fist down on the hoodlum’s wrist. The lethal instrument bounced against the ground. Steve’s swung his arm around and smashed across his opponent’s chest in a clothesline maneuver. The man’s chest cracked and popped as the targeted rib cage flattened.

The hoodlum’s feet came up from underneath him and his back slammed the pavement. Steve and Nora stood paralyzed as Bryan spun to the back and charged the largest man.

The big man didn’t bother bracing for impact. Much like the cafeteria incident Bryan raised his foot high for a front stomp and drove the kick forward. The large man pivoted. The flat of Bryan's foot caught the man’s shoulder; the hood’s feet left the ground. His heavy body spun a full two and a half times before his head collided with the ground. Bryan’s opponent lay still, face in the dirt, ass in the air.

Bryan took hold of the second adversary’s jacket and twirled him several times until the thug was airborne. Spinning with more force than an Olympian discus event, Bryan released the body. His foe collided with a fir tree beside the trail. Twigs and branches snapped and the man’s squeal made the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end.

“Aaaaah!” Nora's voice pierced the air. She dove to the dirt, snatched up the nunchaku and tumbled to a low-graceful stance. She hurled the weapon at one of the men. Before the stunned hood could pull a snub-nosed revolver from his baggy pants, the clang of hard wood and metal sounded as the weapon met its mark, the gun wielder’s face. Nora yelled a second time and sprang high into the air, well over the head of the last man standing. She landed on the trail far beyond the group and took off running. Steve jumped even higher and farther and ran after her. The horror of the experience was lost to him the instant the wind hit his face. These jumps, so high and long, almost like flying—it was ecstasy.

Bryan followed and the three, running together full tilt, left the park for a nearby alley in an adjacent neighborhood. They covered over ten blocks running from alley to alley when Steve recognized one of the buildings. An old apartment dwelling renovated into commercial offices, occupied by architects and engineers, he believed. No lights indicated no personnel working late, making the rooftop a perfect place for the teenagers to collect themselves. Nora's emotional state showed through her painted face. The girl was rattled.

“There’s no one in this building,” Steve said, slowing down, “let's hit the roof and talk about what happened.”

“Maybe we should just walk up the fire escape this time, nice and quiet like.” Bryan added, noticeably out of breath.

Nora ran ahead and left the boys standing there. The brickwork around the windows jutted out from the wall forming large decorative arches. She jumped two stories and landed on the ledge of the window arch, her heels hanging over. Again she jumped, ascending another story, her face inches from the wall. Passing the top, she executed a perfect twist and flip, landing her feet firmly on the roof ledge. The barely audible maneuver scored a perfect ten from both males.

“Can you do that?” Bryan asked.

“Nope,” Steve replied, “let's use the fire escape, besides I think she could use a moment alone.”

Air-conditioning units and sheet metal ducts cluttered the rooftop and offered seclusion residential buildings lacked. Nora sat against one of the large metal boxes picking at a hole in her black nylons. As Steve approached, he counted four holes in the fishnet stockings. The material obviously couldn’t hold up to the tumble back on the trail or the powerful leaps she was capable of performing, not that he thought this a bad thing, he found the tattered hosiery very cool and extremely sexy.

Steve sat beside her. She turned to him, began sobbing and buried her face in his chest. Awkwardly, he put his arm around her. Comforting a woman was new territory and he tried remembering recent movies, looking for a relative scene to draw upon. No movies came to mind and he fought the urge to console his female friend with a ‘there, there’. Gaming had consumed both his and Bryan’s time all through High School leaving both of them, up to this time, dateless.

“That was kind of scary back there,” Steve said.

Bryan sat down and crossed his legs. “Yeah, I have to sit down or my legs are going to start quivering again.”

Nora lifted her head off Steve's chest and wiped the tears from her cheek. “I just didn't expect it to be like that,” she said. “That thing I threw at that guy. I think I put his eye out.” She sniffled and wiped her nose.

Bryan smiled. “And I'm sure he didn't believe his mother when she told him, don't play with that thing, you’re go’na put your eye out.”

Nora managed a small laugh and a smaller smile. “I have a scenario for you guys,” She paused, “let’s say you’re walking down a dark abandoned street in the middle of the night and you see a small group of men a block down heading your way. Even though it’s dark you recognize them as a group of troublemakers and bullies.” She wiped a tear from her face. “They are directly in your path, but you can go around the block and avoid them, losing only a little amount of time. What do you do?”

Bryan waited for Steve to answer first, and then decided to end the silence before it got awkward. “Two weeks ago I would have said any sane person should move to the next block and avoid the group. And I say that still goes for the weak, but not for us. We walk straight on.”

Steve wanted to give an answer that would please Nora, but didn’t have time to analyze her thoughts on the subject and opted for honesty. “I would not avoid the group.”

“Why,” she asked.

“If they’re going to commit a crime against someone, it would be better if it were against a person who could defend himself.”

“But if you avoided them the crime would never have taken place,” she said.

“I see where you’re going with this,” Bryan said, “but those punks tonight pulled a gun on us. They’re criminals through and through and if it weren’t us tonight, it would have been someone else tomorrow. So I wouldn’t feel guilty if I were you. And you know what else, you may have saved our lives tonight.”

Steve squeezed Nora’s shoulder tenderly. “If you hadn't spotted that gun one of us could be shot or dead.”

“And man, are you quick,” Bryan said, “when I'm on the powder I have the eyes and reflexes of a fighter pilot, but I didn't even see that gun until you beaned that guy.”

“You guys are not going to believe this, but I knew he was going to pull a gun.” She looked at their faces for signs of skepticism.

“I believe you,” Steve said, “when we were on the roof earlier I could have sworn you knew a guy was coming up before he actually got to the roof.

“I think I did,” she stated.

“You know what else,” Bryan said, “you knew Steve was going to land safely when he jumped off the building.”

“I thought something funny was happening to me,” she said.

“So, you must see things happen twice, one right after the other.” Steve said.

“Not really,” Nora stated, “It's more like I know what’s going to happen, because I saw it happen sometime before. Like I had a memory of it happening the day before and the memory is still very clear.”

“Don’t worry about that guys eye Tigerwoman,” Bryan said, “I saw the whole thing, his eye is okay, but you did break his nose and I mean big time.”

Nora got up and walked toward the edge of the roof. She looked back at her friends. “You guys can start calling me Déjà vu”.

7

BETTER TO DIE A HERO

CHAPTER 8

I
t took forever for the following Friday to arrive, or at least to Steve it felt that way and it had taken all his will power to stay in during the weeknights and log a full eight hours sleep each night. He’d decided to forgo the midnight runs, to wait and build up energy for this night. He did use the new weight set a couple times, always vigilant for his uncle’s approach. Getting caught with three-hundred pounds of iron plates pressed above his head would be hard to explain. George was a smart man. He would automatically think steroids and start asking questions.

Earlier Bryan called their gaming friends and canceled the weekend campaign, causing less disappointment in the group than either one of them expected. Maybe everyone else was getting a life too. The evening’s big disappointment came when Steve placed a call to Nora. She had skillfully dropped hints throughout the week that she probably would not participate in this weekend’s patrol, but the official word dampened the young man’s spirits. Watching her cartwheel, twist and flip across a rooftop was half the fun of going out, not to mention the synergy her sunny disposition created.

The sun was going down and the two
friends
drove
to the South Bronx business district minus their teammate. Steve, anxious to do some rooftop jumping, thought staying out of the residential areas meant less of a chance of getting the cops called on them. He didn’t think they’d run across any crimes in progress and that’s just the way he wanted it. Though, he didn’t tell that to Bryan.

Steve loved running the rooftops. The gritty texture of tarpaper and sealant under foot changed from building to building, giving tactile feedback to his
astonishing
leaps and solid landings. Some tops were like fine sand paper, while others so coarse they were like running on a bed of pebbles. One thing they all had in common, they offered a confident footing and he couldn’t wait to go running on a rainy night. He wondered how the water would affect his traction. How would he compensate jumping from one slippery surface to another? What the ecstatic teenager really looked forward to was the cooling effect the downpour would bring.

The only activity that beat vaulting an expansive alleyway was bouncing over the clutter of sheet metal monstrosities in their path. The leaps clearing these obstacles, so long and high, gave the illusion of flight, however brief. It was mid leap Steve was the most free, not a care in the world as the wind hit his face. The landings were wonderful also. Every muscle in his body contracted and absorbed the shock, reminding him just how powerful he’d become. Professional buildings offered the best course. Cooling systems, heating systems, sheds, skylights and protruding ductwork of all shapes and sizes lay in their path, just waiting to be hurtled. Enthralled by the superhuman strength that carried him over such obstacles, their function never entered Steve’s thoughts.

Steve looked over his shoulder. Bryan was right behind, again. He couldn’t push any harder and his friend caught up. While the two ran and jumped in unison, Steve studied Bryan’s face. His friend’s headgear couldn’t hide the fatigue that was starting to show.

“Who would have thought there was so much crap up here,” Steve said, landing on the far side of an air conditioning unit the size of a small moving van.

With a light thud, Bryan landed beside him. “Yeah, a string of these rooftops makes a great obstacle course. Try and keep up,” Bryan said, vigorously pushing off.
He
began hurtling rooftop protrusions one after another. As he sprang over each, Steve could see that his friend’s thighs were starting to fill the once baggy underwear.

“Is there one of those trap doors in the seat of your costume? Under those boxers,” Steve yelled from behind.

Bryan remained silent. An expansive alleyway entered their path. The building across was one story higher than the current.

“Uuuugh,” Bryan grunted, his body arced fifteen feet up and twenty feet over, arms and legs pumping the night air. A loud exhalation followed from behind as Steve executed the same vault.

Steve had planned adding small amounts of acrobatics to these leaps, nothing on Nora’s level; however, it was all he could do to keep pace with Bryan. They covered over three miles of rooftops, in what Steve guessed was something under fifteen minutes. He continued to push and managed to stay on his friend’s six. For starting the powder a week sooner, Bryan had not progressed as fast as Steve or Nora. Tonight was an exception.

His strenuous activity is paying off, Steve thought. He knew for a fact Bryan had gone out solo a least twice during the school week.

“I hate to break it to you buddy but, I think you’re exercising.” Steve shouted, and then skidded to a halt. He tore off both the ski and eye mask. The rubber eye mask made his face burn. “I have to stop,” he shouted.

Bryan stopped and spun, perspiration flew like a wet dog shaking off. He removed his own headgear. “These masks suck,” Bryan said, collapsing on the rooftop. He threw his gear to the side.

Steve, hit by several foreign droplets, attempted to wipe them away only to find them lost in his own profuse lather. His disgust faded fast and he sat down envious of Bryan’s long cape. Steve pulled his sweatshirt up to dry his face, but gave up on the idea. His shirt was drenched as well.

Steve crossed his eyes and watched the sweat drip from his nose. “We have got to bring some water with us next time. I’m thirsty as all hell.” He positioned his nose over a lose nail and attempted to hit it with the falling beads of perspiration.

“I know what you mean,” Bryan said, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t bring any money with me either.”

“I’ve got a couple of bucks,” Steve said, reaching into his pocket. “Maybe I could give it to you and you could drop down to a twenty-four hour convenience store and get us some water.”

“Sure, why don’t we both go?”

“I’m feeling a little shy at the moment.” Steve ran a hand through his wet hair. “I feel like a drowned rat.”

“Okay,” Bryan said, taking the money. “Just give me a minute to rest. I still feel pretty good, but I can tell I need to drink something. We’ve got to remember just because we have superhuman strength doesn’t mean we can go without food and water.”

“I know, I’ve been drinking and eating more since we started taking the powder, how about you?” Steve asked.

Bryan rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, but not enough. I may have been making a mistake, assuming a heightened endurance would take care of itself.” Bryan stood up, his legs quivered briefly. He wiped the seat of his heart-covered boxers. “Feels like I lost a ton of water.” He walked to the edge of the roof and looked down the distance. “Stay put, I’ll find a place that’s open and come right back.” He hopped off the edge, his cape snapped straight and disappeared.

“That did look cool, I may have to get me one of those.” Steve lay back on the hard surface and closed his eyes.

*          *          *

Steve awoke to the sound of footsteps ascending iron. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, his gaze fell on the masks beside him and the headgear piled a few feet away. He thought back, pictured Bryan jumping off the roof in search of water and sure enough, his friend’s face was not covered.

“Damn, I thought I had some kind of heightened perceptions.” The young man slumped where he sat. He should have noticed and reminded his friend to put on the rest of his costume.

Bryan emerged from the fire escape 15 seconds later. “Sorry that took so long, I had to walk all the way back.” He set a two-liter bottle of orange soda down and handed Steve a gallon jug of water. “I didn’t want to...” He gyrated at the hips and knees, his upper body staying implausibly still. “Shake up my soda. Oh, and by the way I forgot my mask.”

“Yeah, I watched you leave. I was looking right at you and I didn’t even notice.” Steve popped the plastic top on the water and drank deeply. The cool water went on an osmotic trip through his body. It flowed internally through his legs, up his chest, through both shoulders and down both arms, bringing a wave of relief. A cold tickle crawled up his neck. Water spurted from a gland in the back of his mouth. “What did you do when you got to the store?” Steve asked, trying to ignore how dangerously dehydrated he’d let himself become.

Bryan wiped soda from his chin. “I took off my cape and wrapped it around my waist and went in. Dude behind the counter didn’t notice a thing, dude looked dog-tired.” Bryan gulped more soda. “The guy barely looked up to make change.”

“Keeping our identities secret may not be that important anyway.”

“No, no,” Bryan said waving a finger, “We have to keep our identities secret.”

“We only have enough powder to keep this up for one summer, then we should go public and take credit.”

Bryan shook his head. “We can’t do that. We can never tell anyone and we can only run around powered up for one month. I need a lot of the powder left to analyze.”

“To analyze?”

“I’m changing my major to chemistry.”

“Dude, your dad is going to shit, he’s going to explode. Seriously.”

“I’m a superhero, nothing else matters.”

“I thought we were just playing heroes for the summer.”

“I’m going to unlock the powder’s secrets and you and I are going to be superheroes for the rest of our lives.”

“Trust me,” Steve said, “Nobody likes being strong more than me. I absolutely love having the strength to jump two or three stories, but this superhero thing is not like it is in the comic books. We could run around all night for weeks and not see any crime.”

“If you’re going to make a career of crime fighting, you don’t leave things to chance encounters,” Bryan said. “You find out who the villain is and you go after him. That’s what I intend to do and I expect you to be at my side.”

“Okay buddy, I’m with you,” Steve lied. He knew his friend would come around eventually. “I’ve daydreamed about being powerful all my life and this does feel great, but one thing disappoints me, no super villains.”

“That’s true,” Bryan said, letting out a large belch. “Damn!” he yelled, “No super villains!” He threw his arms up. “I never thought about that. What are the chances a second bottle of the powder is out there waiting to be discovered by some bad guys?”

“Not good I’m afraid.”

“Damn it, let’s see,” Bryan said, holding his stomach. “Steroids and supplements are advancing at a fast pace. Maybe someone will put together an army of muscle bound steroid freaks. High-tech is coming a long way too. Get this, maybe a super villain with high-tech body armor and weaponry.”

“One can always hope,” Steve said, noticing Bryan’s growing discomfort.

Grurgle!

“What the hell was that?” Steve asked.

“That was my gut,” Bryan said, rubbing his belly.

Grurgle!

“I’m really starting to percolate.” Bryan grimaced as the pressure built. The teenager contorted his face to the extreme in conjunction with the gas bubbling in his gut. A gurgle and his mouth stretched implausibly agape. A gurgle and his face puckered, his eyes crossed. A gurgle and his lips twisted, then turned inside out. “Holy crap!” He jumped up and scurried to a secluded spot of the roof. “Don’t come over here.”

“Oh Dude, the shit’s going to hit the fan.” Steve’s voice projected out over the rooftop, so did his laughter.

Bryan stopped laughing. “Oh God,” he said, “I think I’m going to be here a while. Go run around for ten minutes... and stop laughing!” he shouted, “It’s not funny!”

“Okay, okay,” Steve answered. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m okay,” he grunted. “Give me ten or fifteen minutes… you better make it twenty.”

“There’s a lot of water left. I’m leaving it right here. If you’re smart you’ll switch to water.”

“Yeah, yeah, switch to water,” Bryan said.

Steve walked to the edge facing the alley. The darkness was so pervasive no clear landing spot presented itself. A leap from here looked like a good way to get a nail in the foot or a post up the butt. He sauntered over to the edge facing the street. Two moving cars, half a dozen night owls and all the light a superhero needed to make a safe landing. Maybe it was time to introduce the people of the world to New York’s first real superheroes. So far, their nights jaunt had taken them over deserted alleyways. Jumping down to an occupied street, bounding across, leaping the facade of a five-story building would be the biggest challenge of the evening, one that would be witnessed. He knew he couldn’t make it to the top of the far building in just one jump, although a drop from the same height didn’t hurt. He would have to hit and push off from something solid half way up, maybe a window ledge or that neon sign. He secured both masks. Loud flatulence from the far side of the roof, followed by Bryan’s agonizing “just kill me”, sent Steve over the edge of the building.

He landed solid and in the middle of the street exactly as planned. He was, however, off in his timing. The car racing at him should not have been so close. An enormous upward spring carried him to the branch of a streetlight. Tires screeched below. The aluminum stem vibrated beneath his feet; the bulb popped. A second upward leap carried him just over the top of the target building. He landed low, on all fours and expelled a healthy groan that bordered on a growl.