The First Superhero (Novella): Richter Page 5

  Patrick took it. On the front, it said Detective Harold Winston. The card had all of his contact information on it. “I’ll call you first thing.”

  Winston nodded. “We may have more questions, so stay where I can reach you, alright?”

  Patrick nodded. “Of course.”

  “Alright, well, we’ll get out of your hair now.” Winston said, and he and Francis walked toward the door.

  Patrick’s dad shook their hands and opened the door for them. When they were gone, he closed the door and turned to Patrick. “What in the world happened last night?”

  Patrick shrugged, watching the detectives through the little window next to the door as they walked toward their car. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  11

  Investigation

  Patrick shut his bedroom door behind him. He grabbed a pen and notebook from his backpack by the door and crossed the room to the desk by his bed. He had so much going on inside his brain, he had to get everything down on paper so he could figure out where to go from here.

  What are the possibilities here? How could something like this have happened?

  One, it could be someone else with abilities (this is most likely, as crazy as it sounds). Who could have these powers? Lace is the only one I know to have survived so far, and she didn’t seem very shaken. Although the detectives didn’t tell me what happened, so she probably has no clue. Still, she’s the only one I know so far who survived. I need to get my hands on a list of names of those who are confirmed dead, missing, and survived. I gotta find out who could possibly have the same abilities as me. Then what, though? Do I make them pay somehow? What does that even mean? I can’t kill them, can I? They obviously have no problem with that. I don’t know if there’s a prison that could hold them, though. Besides, if they’ve had powers longer than I have, they’d know way more about them than I do. Maybe I can get them to tell me everything they know. Maybe they can help me figure out what’s happening. We could help each other.

  But they also killed almost all of my friends. Can I really work with someone who’s done something like that? Who’s capable of that?

  Theory Two: EVERYBODY there developed these powers, and their bodies couldn’t handle it, and they popped. Either my body CAN handle it, or it’s taking longer for me to pop. Which means it could happen at any time. I didn’t see any bodies lying around, so this one could be a real possibility.

  Patrick sat back in his chair, trying to come up with other theories. He couldn’t think of any other ones that were as plausible as the two he had written down. He flipped the pen around in his hands, thinking, If I’m really going to do this, the first thing I need to do is find out what I’m capable of. My abilities will help me in this search, but first I have to find out their extent.

  *

  The next morning, Patrick ran as fast as he could. His strides were so huge it felt almost as if he were flying. He zoomed across the Michigan countryside, running around cars and buildings when they popped up, but leaving them out of sight just a few moments later.

  After about ten minutes of running, he came to a stop in some thick woods. He had no idea where he was, or even if he was still in Michigan. He took a deep breath, drinking in the smell of the tall pines. Even though it was almost June, deep in the woods it was still damp and cool. He almost wished he’d worn a long-sleeved shirt, but he told himself he wouldn’t be still long enough to get cold.

  He scanned the tree line, taking in the sight of the towering pines. There were a few other trees sprinkled around, maybe oaks or hackberries—he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the pines that stood tall before him were very, very heavy. He picked out the tallest one of the bunch and walked over. It stood almost a hundred feet tall, and was probably very old.

  Patrick had other things on his mind, however. There were plenty of trees around. He needed to find out the extent of his abilities, and he wasn’t going to be able to do that by hugging trees. He was doing this for one reason: so he could find out who had killed everybody at the party.

  “Sorry, buddy, but I gotta do it,” he said with a smile as he patted the tree.

  He wrapped his arms as far as he could around the tree. I guess I am a tree hugger, he thought with a chuckle. He squeezed the trunk, sending cracks up and down it, as if it were made of glass. It moaned and shook as he pulled up slowly. Roots sprang up from the ground and shot dirt up into the air, hitting Patrick in the face. It was like the tree was fighting back against him, but it was going to take a little more than flinging of dirt to stop him.

  He pulled up on the tree more and more, going slowly so he’d be able to know the exact moment when it became difficult. He waited for resistance, but none came. He stood there amazed as he pulled the tree out of the ground. He pulled it up as far as he could until his own height stopped him. He wasn’t tall enough to pull it out any farther. He held the tree up as far as his body would let him.

  With a smile, he decided that wasn’t enough. He squeezed as hard as he could and crushed the tree in his arms. The trunk split in half, sending splinters and dirt flying everywhere. Patrick ran out of the way as the tree fell to the ground, crashing into the tops of other trees, bringing some of the smaller ones down with it.

  He watched as pieces of the tree rained down from the sky. After catching on a few more trees, the pine slammed to the ground. The sound echoed through the woods, and the ground beneath Patrick shook like an earthquake. He could feel the reverberations in his bones. They danced up his legs into his spine, and up into his head. He found it exhilarating. The powerful vibrations that danced through the ground, that he felt in the bones, were all because of him.

  A smile slipped across his face. All the things going on in his life—the massacre at the party, lying to the police and his family, it being up to him to find out who had killed everybody—he couldn’t help but let that all slip away. He was having so much fun with his powers that in the moment, nothing else mattered. It was just him in the woods where nobody could find him. He wasn’t in danger of anybody finding out, he didn’t have to worry about Detective Winston or Detective Francis coming by and asking him any questions—it was just him and his powers.

  He looked down at his hands and noticed that a blue light illuminated them. He brought them up closer to his eyes, and the light got brighter and more intense. Frowning, he turned and ran out of the woods, searching for a reflective surface to confirm his suspicions.

  He found a small town close by that had a small diner next to a flashing red light. He ran inside, zipping past all the workers and patrons who stood frozen in time. He ran into the empty bathroom in the back and stopped. Time resumed as he stood still in the bathroom, looking at his reflection, his suspicions confirmed.

  Both his eyes were glowing bright blue. He couldn’t see his pupils; it was as if both his eyes were glowing blue orbs of light. He smiled as he looked himself up and down and found his joy hard to contain.

  He could’ve stood there in the bathroom of that diner staring at his reflection all day, but instead he turned and ran back out of the diner toward the woods. He had a busy day ahead of him, testing out his new abilities.

  12

  Nature

  Patrick whooped and shouted in pure exhilaration as he came to a stop. He’d run the border of the woods five times, each time doing so a little faster. He couldn’t believe how great it felt. It was a million times better than any amount of booze or adrenaline-pumping activity could make him feel. Everything was beginning to look a little bit simpler, feel a little less scary. It wasn’t hard for him to imagine going skydiving, rock climbing with no safety gear, climbing Mount Everest—all of which he could imagine himself doing in an afternoon without breaking a sweat or getting freaked out. But he couldn’t fathom those things giving him the same feeling that running around the border of the woods a sixth time would.

  So he did just that. He ran a seventh time, too. Finally, after his eighth trip, he decided to take a brea
k. He didn’t want the feeling to get old, although he had his doubts that it ever would.

  He stopped next to the pine tree he’d brought down earlier and climbed up onto its trunk. He sat atop it, his arms behind him to support him. His breathing was cool and calm. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. He was surprised when he found himself to be a bit tired, then guessed that despite his abilities, he still needed sleep.

  He closed his eyes, still sitting up. He wasn’t trying to sleep; he just wanted to rest his eyes for a bit. While his eyes were shut, he listened closely to the sounds around him. He imagined a bubble around him, and everything in that bubble he could hear. The wind whistled through the needles of the pine trees above him. He listened more closely and could hear something digging underground. Probably a mole or something digging its tunnel, he thought.

  He pictured the sound bubble and expanded it. It spread through the woods, picking up the sounds of the various wildlife. Baby birds chirping in their nests, momma birds chewing up worms to feed to them. A squirrel running up a tree trunk with an acorn in its mouth.

  A snarling sound piqued his interest. He zeroed in on it and listen as two cats hissed and growled at each other. They didn’t sound like regular house cats to Patrick. No, these sounded like two very large cats who belonged in the wild fighting.

  He opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction the sound was coming from. It was behind him to his right. All he could see were trees. If he were a normal person, he’d have no idea there was anything going on.

  He leapt off the tree trunk and began jogging toward the cats’ location. He didn’t want to sprint as he wasn’t sure how far away the cats were. He didn’t want to overshoot them or scare them away. Besides, he wanted to work on his hearing. He’d already done plenty of running exercises.

  The sound of the snarling grew closer and closer until finally, Patrick found the cats. He stood behind a tree and watched as two cougars circled each other, each waiting for the other to strike first. The cougar closest to him was the larger of the two. It spun in place while the smaller one circled.

  For a second, Patrick wondered if he should step in and intervene. His heart pumped with adrenaline and fear as he watched the cats try to figure out a way to kill each other. He watched, mesmerized, then decided to do nothing and just watch. He didn’t want to interfere with nature. This was going to happen whether or not he was there to watch, and he decided it should stay that way. That didn’t mean he had to look away, of course.

  The smaller cougar decided the time was right, and lunged at the larger one. The two of them fought in a flurry of claws and teeth. Patrick watched in awe, his mouth slightly open. It was pure ferocity, nature at its finest. Whether they were fighting over territory or over a mate, they were fighting to the death.

  The smaller one dug one of its sharp claws into the soft flesh at the spot where the leg connected to the torso on the larger one. The cat screamed in agony and stumbled, limping. This gave the smaller one the perfect window of opportunity. It lunged onto the larger one to finish it off.

  Patrick looked away, pressing his back against the tree. His blood pumped furiously, flowing with adrenaline. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. It was so visceral and feral. His hands felt clammy and his head was hot. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He wasn’t sure whether or not he enjoyed the feeling.

  After a minute he opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. It was beginning to get dark as the sun made its way down to the horizon. He jumped up, panic beginning to set in. He’d been gone for way too long. What if somebody was looking for him? He didn’t have a phone so they could call him. What if the detectives had more questions to ask him? If he’d just disappeared, he’d become a prime suspect for sure.

  He knew he needed to get home, and fast. He turned and sprinted out of the woods, running as fast as he could toward home. Even through all of his panic and fear, he couldn’t help but smile. This was definitely going to go down as one of his strangest and most exciting days.

  13

  Confrontation

  Patrick walked into his house a little before six. He kicked his shoes off at the front door and walked toward the living area ahead of him.

  “Patrick?” he heard somebody say from the television room.

  Patrick stopped and turned, and saw Victoria sitting on the couch. Patrick’s mom was sitting next to her. Victoria looked like a mess. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her makeup had run all over her face, but from the look of her, Patrick guessed she’d run out of tears a long time ago.

  “Victoria, what’s wrong?” Patrick asked as he walked over to the couch and sat down next to her.

  “Something terrible happened at the party night before last, Patrick,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “I’m going to go get some water,” Patrick’s mom said, standing to leave.

  “I know. Some detectives came by yesterday. I left the party before anything happened, though. I don’t know anything,” Patrick said, placing a hand on her back.

  Victoria shook her head as if to tell herself that she wouldn’t cry. “So, you’ve known since yesterday and you haven’t said anything to me?”

  Patrick didn’t know what to say. He scoured his mind for an excuse, but nothing came to him. “I-I-I’m really sorry, Victoria. It’s just all so much to handle. Like I said, I don’t even know anything. I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “Well, you know what, Patrick?” Victoria said, turning to face him. The look on her face scared him. “Ben’s dead. He died at the party, and they won’t even tell us how. All they’ll tell us is that he died. You weren’t there for him.” Somehow she found more tears to cry, and they began to leak out. “You said you would be, and then you weren’t. Then, when I needed you yesterday, you never came by to check on me! I called, and your mom said you were up in your room all day. You didn’t come to see if Ben was okay.”

  Victoria stood, her sadness turning to rage. “I thought I’d come over today and make sure you were doing okay with everything, and you’re just gone! Where have you been all day, Patrick? Where were you when I needed you? When Ben needed you? You were just gone!”

  Patrick stood too, unable to take it anymore. “Okay, I’ve been dealing with some things too, Victoria!”

  Victoria reeled back. “Oh, you’ve been dealing with things?” she screamed. “Tell me, Patrick, what’s worse than your brother dying and you have no idea how, and your best friend who’s supposed to always be there for you being MIA when you need him the most?”

  “You think this is easy for me?” Patrick yelled back. “Everybody died there, Victoria! All my friends, everybody I know, they’re all dead. Why did I survive, Victoria? Huh? You think waking up covered in the blood of everybody you know is something that you can just—”

  “What did you just say?” Victoria interrupted.

  Patrick froze. Everything had fallen apart before his eyes, and he had to work fast to put it all back together. “I said I’m just going through a lot too, okay?”

  “No, you said you were covered in blood. I thought you left the party early, Patrick.” Victoria took a step forward, accusation in her voice.

  “I did,” Patrick said, his eyes not meeting hers. “Victoria, I did.” His confidence grew as a story formed in his head. “I meant it metaphorically. I just feel really guilty, like I have blood on my hands. Like, if I hadn’t left the party early, maybe I could’ve done something. Maybe I could’ve stopped whoever it was from doing whatever they did.” He sighed and shook his head. “Can you believe we don’t even know what happened? After everything they’re putting us through, they won’t even give us a hint as to what’s going on.”

  Victoria took a deep breath and shrugged. “Trust me, I’ve thought plenty about that.” She sat back down on the couch.

  Patrick sat down and put an arm around her. She didn’t push him away, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. It had worked. She believed him. “How
are your parents?”

  “How do you think? It’s so sad over there.” Victoria looked out the window toward her home. “I had to get out of there.”

  “I’m really, really sorry, Victoria,” Patrick said, and he meant that honestly. “The police are going to figure out who did this, and they’re going to get what they deserve.”

  Victoria nodded in agreement. The two of them sat there in silence for a few moments longer. Finally, Victoria stood up again.

  “Where are you going?” Patrick asked.

  “I have to go. You’re acting really weird, and I need to get back to my family,” Victoria said as she gathered up her belongings.

  “I’m not acting weird.”

  “I’ve known you forever, Patrick. I know when you’re hiding something. I don’t need this right now. I thought you could be there for me, but obviously I was wrong.” Victoria walked toward the door.

  Patrick went after her. “Victoria, I’m sorry. This is just a lot, okay?” he said as she opened the door.

  Victoria turned around to face him. “I can’t look at you right now. I can’t help but think about how you said you would watch Ben.”

  “Victoria, I said—”

  “I know you’re sorry. I know it’s not your fault. I know there’s not anything you could’ve done. I just can’t help but think about it, and I need some space. I’m sorry.”

  Victoria turned and walked off the porch and down the sidewalk toward her house.

  Patrick stood in the doorway watching her walk away. He was having a hard time facing the possibility that after all these years, he might’ve lost his best friend.

  He closed the door and stood there in shock, staring at the door, lost in his own mind, replaying their conversation over and over again in his head.

  “Did Victoria leave?” Patrick’s mom asked from behind him.