No ordinary hero (Keepers of justice # 1) (8 page)

X and Stretch are in X’s room, sitting on the floor with bags of chips and cans of
soda. I grab a can and join them.

“What’s up?” Stretch asks. “You
don’t look too good. Did something interesting happen with you and Lindsay?”

“
Forget her,” I mutter, then take a swig. Walking her home was okay, I didn’t get mad or anything. But as I made my way to the Tower, I felt my anger take over. I don’t know why. I mean, I don’t really care that she’s mad at me. I don’t. It’s just that I don’t want Earth to blow up because I did something stupid. Even though I
didn’t
touch her butt. My hand wasn’t even close.

“What’ve you guys been up to today?
” I ask. “Any news on the traitor? Did Robert find anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing,” X says. “
Robert said Lightning’s clean.” He growls. “They’re wrong.”

“You sure? Did y
ou see any more documents with the logo?”

X tosses his empty can in the garbage. “
Just that one time.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s the Blades. I didn’t make this up.”

“I know
. I believe you,” I say. “What do we do?”

No one says anything. X
doodles in his notebook and Stretch shoves more food down his throat. I stare out the window. What to do...

“Anyone got anything?” Stretch asks after a little while.

“Man, what are you doing?” X says. I follow his eyes. Stretch’s stringy fingers are poking through X’s drawers, while the rest of his body is still with us.

“I know you got more food somewhere.”

X mutters something under his breath, grabbing hold of Stretch’s arms and trying to pull them back. It’s like trying to pull on a piece of chewed gum. It only stretches farther. “You eat more than Speed.”

“Can we all focus here?” I say.
I stand up and march around the room. Getting the need to occupy myself with something as we figure out what to do, I snatch X’s Rubik's cube and turn the thing. I’ve got no clue how or why X does this for fun.

“You know, guys,” Stretch says. “This got me thinking about my parents.”

I look at Stretch. “How could this have possibly got you thinking about your parents?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. I think I’ve been thinking about them ever since we went on that fire rescue mission. Got me thinking that I have no idea who my folks are. I
could save them one day, you know. That’s pretty messed up. Saving the people who dumped me at the Tower’s doors.”

We don’t know much about Stretch’s parents. Actually, we don’t know a thing. Dad thinks his parents freaked out when Stretch was born. Even as a baby, his skin was stretched and bendable like a rubber band. He said it was hard to hold him because his body stretch
ed and his toes always swept the floor. He’s been my best friend since we were little. A childless couple at the League raised him like their own son. There are other kids around here who’ve never met their parents, either.

X doesn’t say anything, but I see his jaw clench. He doesn’t like to think about his past. I’m about to change the subject, but my phone rings. Stretch’s lips pull into the widest smile
I’ve ever seen as he bends his head to read the name of the caller. “Ah, the girlfriend.”

I answer. “Hi.” My voice is low and wary. I don’t know if she’s calling to yell at me some more. Or demand I finish our project or whatever.

“Hi.” Her voice is hesitant, too. I wait for her to continue, because she’s the one who called. She clears her throat. “I’m sorry for what happened. For what I did.”

I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m still mad at her, but I don’t really want to stay mad at her. I look at my friends. X
continues to doodle and Stretch is eavesdropping on my conversation (his ear is less than an inch from my ear that’s pressed to the phone). I’d leave the room, but then the guys would tease me about it.

I shrug. “It’s no biggie,” I say.

She doesn’t answer right away, and I’m wondering if she’s still there. “So...you’re not mad at me?”

“No biggie.” Stretch makes kissy faces and chuckles. I
shove him away. “We’re cool. Did you get home okay?”

“I saw you following me. It’s, um, it’s one of the reasons I called. At first I wanted to tell you to get away from me, but I couldn’t. It was so sweet what you did. Walk
ing me home, I mean. Lots of guys wouldn’t do that.”

I don’t know how to react to that. I like that she likes me, but maybe she likes me a little too much? What if she expects me to be her boyfriend? I don’t
know
how to be a boyfriend, especially to a girl who can blow Earth up. I don’t know what to do.

“Billy? You there?”

“Huh? Yeah. I’m here.”

“So, um, did you do your homework yet? Maybe we can study for our history test together? If you want?”

“Uh...yeah, sure that’d be—”

X
jumps up in his seat. His eyes are glued to the floor. “Guys, we need to move.
Now
.”

“Wha
dya see?” Stretch asks.

“Light
ning. He’s leaving the Tower.”

“Linds, I got to go.”

“But—”

I hang up
, and Stretch and I follow X down the stairs and into the hallway that leads to the back doors. There are no windows around, so Stretch and I can’t see what Lightning’s doing outside. Only X. He has an intense look on his face.

“What’s he doing?” I whisper. X motions
for me to shut up.

“So,” Stretch says to me. “Made up with your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, man.”

He chuckles. Oh,
crap. I hung up on her. Why did I hang up on her? I should have explained or told her I’d call her back.

“
He’s coming back,” X says. All three of us run into the kitchen, the least suspicious spot. It’s where all the older guys at the Tower hang out. All the food’s here.

The kitchen is huge, probably the size of
three kitchens attached together. It has five refrigerators and freezers, four sinks, and who knows how many cabinets. On the wall is a huge plasma TV. Right now, football’s on. Some of the older kids are watching.

Stretch, X, and I grab loads of snacks and pretend to be engrossed in the game. Lightning comes inside and pours himself a glass of orange juice. He walks out.

“That was close,” Stretch says, chomping down a powdered donut. “Wudya see?”

“Not now,” X hisses, eyeing the others in here.

We go back to X’s room and sit on the floor. No one says anything. I scan my phone to check if Lindsay called. She didn’t. I should call her back, but what X saw is more important now.

“
So?” I ask him.

“He got into
a black car. Exchanged papers with the guy inside. He got out and the car drove off.”

“
Who do you think it is?” Stretch asks.

X gets another notebook and writes some stuff down. “He meets with
the same guy almost every week.”

“Ho
w are you so sure he’s with the Blades?” I ask. “Dad said Lightning exchanges top secret papers.”

“It’s the
Blades, man. I know it.”

He’s got that tone in his voice, like he’s worried his
friend doesn’t believe him. I do. “Okay, yeah.”

Quiet.

“Now what?” Stretch asks.

No one says anything.

“We need to get into his room,” I say. “Hack his laptop or something.”

Stretch’s face gets white. “That’s not allowed. He’s an
Elite member. Your dad’s second in command. We could get into big trouble.”

“Man up, Stretch
,” X says.

“
X’s right,” I say. “We can’t be scared to do anything. Hacking Lightning’s laptop is the best plan we got. We need solid proof for my dad.”

Stretch looks at us, eyes wide, and slowly nods. “Okay.”

We’re quiet again.

“Guys,” Stretch says. “
Robert’s a good telepath. So why isn’t he picking anything up on Lightning? Doesn’t make sense.”

“Unless Robert’s teamed up with the traitor,” X says.

All three of us exchange glances.

“Is he?” I ask X.

X shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look so sure.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I say. “My dad trusts Robert almost as much as he trusts Lightning. The only way for Light
ning to avoid Robert is to have him on his side.” No one says anything. “X?”

“I’ve never seen
them say more than two words to each other,” X says. “Lightning’s always alone. Robert doesn’t meet anyone secretly.” He curses under his breath.

“If
Lightning’s not the only Blade undercover,” I say, “we’re screwed.”

“More than that,” X says, eyes dark. “If Robert is with the
Blades, he’ll read our thoughts and see we’re on to them. They’ll—”

“Kill us,” Stretch squeaks.

X slowly nods. “We need to find a way to block him out.”

Block him out. How?
By thinking about other things so the telepath can’t read our thoughts? That technically could work, but how can we occupy our minds twenty-four-seven? And it’s too risky with Stretch. His brain is like his body. He can’t keep his thoughts together.

X says, “I know a guy. From when I lived in the sewers. A telepath.”

X’s life story can probably fill ten books. Ran away from home when he was a kid, he lived on the streets and fell in with the wrong crowd, who got him to use his powers to commit crimes. Rob banks, mostly, from what I got from him. And worse. He didn’t give me details. He’s pretty closed up about his past, never even told us his real name. There was a time when he lived with a group of people with powers in the sewers. These people avoid both normies and their own kind because of the abuse they got. One guy was even experimented on by some super-secret organization that deals with studying people like us—or shall I say, like them. One of Dad’s missions a few years back was to put an end to organizations like that. Not sure how that turned out, though.

“What about this telepath?” I ask.

“Very strong. Very dangerous. He can wipe out every thought and memory you have with a blink of an eye.”

Stretch lets out a small whimper. He has this ridiculous fear of people with powers, which is bizarre considering that he lives with them. He knows the adults and kids in the Tower will never use their powers against him, but there’s no guarantee a pissed
-off telepath in the sewers will show the same courtesy.

“This one of the guys who hates people like us?” I ask.

X nods. “Hates everyone except for his family in the sewers.”

Great, that’s
just perfect. I peer at Stretch. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“Will he hurt us?” I ask X.

He’s quiet for a bit as he thinks about my words. “No. He’d never hurt me or my friends.”

“How can you be so sure?” I ask.

“This is the guy who took me off the streets. I trust him with my life.”

And I trust X.

I glance at Stretch again. “Hey, man, I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

Not that I can do anything with the lack of powers, especially against a telepath who can fry my mind with a blink of an eye.

Stretch gets a determined look on his face. “No more whimping out. I’m in.”

We wait until dark, until every light in the Tower is shut and everyone is in bed. We’re dressed in black so we can blend into the night. I lead the guys to the secret
elevator that brings us to the Decoy House I’ve been using to get into Brooklyn (I’m still not sure how the thing works). X uses his vision to make sure the house is clear before we get inside and close the door after us.

“Cool digs,” Stretch says, yanking off his cap.

“We’re not here to goof around,” X says. “And put your cap back on.”

“
Dude, do you know what the heat does to my head? It’s shrinking.”

I stick my hand into my pocket for the key
Premonition gave me on my second day of school. He’s so paranoid about people finding this place, he locked the door on both sides. I stab the key into the lock and turn the knob, opening the door. The icy wind blows inside and smacks against my face. Stretch’s, too, it seems. His head falls back and knocks into mine.

“
Geez,” he says, rubbing the side of his head.

We step out and I lock the door after me. It’s freezing outside. Maybe it would have been smarter to wear something warmer. “Can I cuddle with you?” Stretch asks. I smack his arm. He’s acting like a goof because he’s nervous. My knees knock into each other, and I don’t think it’s due to the cold only. X
is composed like always.

He walks over to a manhole and lifts the cover
with this hook. “Prepare for the worst,” he says, then climbs down.

“Prepare for the worst?” Stretch’s voice is so pitched it feels like he’s scratching his nails into my ears.

We’ll be okay, we’ll be okay. We have to be, right? I mean, this story can’t have such an abrupt ending. The three heroes dying in the sewers? How lame is that?

“Go, Stretch,” I say.

“You first.” His voice is shaky.

I peek my head inside the hole. I can’t see much except for the ladder that leads down and some light. Does it smell? Yeah, it has to smell—it’s the sewer. What about rats? Yeah, there definitely
are rats. Am I afraid of rats? I don’t know. I never met one before, other than Animal, but she doesn’t count.

“Why are you staring down there like that?” Stretch’s fingers dig into my back, and I yelp because it feels like a knife stabbing me.

“When was the last time you cut your nails?” I yell over my shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. My bad.”

“Will you calm down? Climb down right after me. And cover the manhole after you.”

The smell starts to reach me as I climb further and further down the ladder. After a few
seconds, I hear the sound of the manhole getting covered and the area gets pitch black, except for the small light coming from somewhere further down.

“X,” I call. “You here?”

“Yeah. Keep moving.”

We should have brought flashlights.

When we finally reach the floor, X tells us that we’ve got some walking to do. He knows Brooklyn’s sewers as well as he knows Brooklyn itself. We’ve got to walk a bit until we’re in downtown Brooklyn, where this group supposedly lives. Stretch mutters how he would rather walk
above
ground instead of running around like sewer rats, but X insists it’s safer this way.

We don’t say anything to each other as we walk deeper and deeper,
except for the occasional squeak from Stretch when a rat runs past his shoes. The lights flicker in some places and I hear a lot of dripping from pipes, and rushing water.

“Almost there?” Stretch asks after
twenty minutes. “I bet we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost. We’ll be there
soon.”

I think Stretch has relaxed a bit. Maybe he thinks this group of people isn’t here, that X is sending us on a wild goose chase or something. But after five minutes, the three of us freeze in place
as a voice says,
Stop
, in my head. It sounds very child-like. High pitched. Kind of freaky.

Stretch whimpers.
Did he hear it, too?

What
do you want
? the voice says.

I can’t move my mouth. Why can’t I move my mouth? It’s like it’s glued together.

It’s me Ray. I need a favor.

Now this is weird. I hear X’s voice in my head.

You know the rules, Ray. No trespassing, no uninvited guests
.
Why did you bring these people into my home
?

Oh,
man. This must be the telepath X told us about. The one who can wipe my mind with a blink.

We need you,
Scar
, X says.

Scar
, Stretch’s voice bangs against my head.
His name is Scar? We’re so screwed!

Andrew Mason
, the voice says.
Also known as Stretch. Care to tell me what brings you to my humble abode
?

The poor guy whimpers again.
Please don’t kill me
.

X grunts.
Scar, read us and see what we need from you. I swear we only need your help
.

Images fly through my head.
My
images and thoughts. Memories. It’s like someone fast-forwarding through a movie. I expect it to hurt a little, but I don’t feel anything. Wow, I forgot so many of these memories. Are they all buried in my head somewhere? Memories of Mom, Dad, our pre-accident happy life. Some memories of Stretch and me when we were like six and played pranks on the adults in the Tower. Memories of Lindsay. Man, this guy is reading me all. I feel so naked.

Kale
Zenith
, he says.
Son of Samson Zenith
.

Yeah,
I say, my voice quivering.
That’s right.

Samson
.

T
he guy said it with disgust
.
Oh, crap...

Tried to recruit me. Couldn’t take no for an answer. Wouldn’t leave me in peace. Had to gather
my family and relocate elsewhere.

Double
crap...

Everything gets so quiet. I
glance at X and Stretch. Stretch looks like someone’s pointing a gun at him, and X seems annoyed.

But
I like what Samson has been doing,
the voice continues
. Trying to make the world a better place for people like us. You are all welcome
.

I’m no longer frozen. My mouth can move. Stretch and I look at each other, his eyes wide, his body stretched in some weird shape. He follows m
y gaze. “What?” He shrugs. “It happens when I stay in one position for too long.”

X
says, “Let’s move.”

He walks toward the wall, which suddenly lifts, and a guy about twenty
with red skin, sticks his head out. A smile spreads across his face when his eyes land on X. “Ray,” he says. “Good to see you.”

“You
, too, Blaze.”

“Ray?” a female voice says from inside.
Something jumps through the nearby wall and runs through Blaze’s body, into X’s arms. It’s a girl about our age. “You’re back.” She squeezes X. He pats her purple hair, no emotion on his face. Stretch and I exchange a glance. Was she his girlfriend or something when he lived here?

“
It’s been so long,” she says, pulling out of the hug and giving him a shy smile.

Blaze
steps forward. His eyes flash red for a few seconds. “Some of us say you abandoned us. That you’re not welcome here.”

“I left to
search for a better life,” X mutters. His fists clench at his sides. I can tell the difference in his clenches. This isn’t a pissed-off one, or a mad-as-hell one. It’s full of guilt and regret.

Blaze
gives him a curt nod. “Found it?”

X doesn’t say anything. A few silent seconds tick by.

Finally, Blaze turns to us. His expression is cold and hostile. “These two with you?”

X nods.
The girl turns to Stretch and me. Like she just realizes we’re here. Man, what’s with the death glare?

Blaze
steps closer to us, and we stiffen. But he doesn’t shoot fire at us or knock us over the head or bash our bodies into the wall. He holds out a hand. “A friend of Ray is a friend of mine. He’s like a brother to me.”

I don’t know what to say. X has never talked about his days in the sewers. Most of the information I do know is from Dad and a few bits here and there when X let it slip out. It makes me feel a little guilty that I didn’t try to get to know about his past life. Like I don’t care enough about him.

Blaze
turns back toward the doorway and sweeps his hand. “Come on in.”

It’s like walking through a portal and into another world. I don’t feel like I’m in the sewers anymore. The floor is covered with gray carpet, the walls lined with pictures and portraits l
ike you’d find in a living room or hallway. There are tables and chairs and couches, and when I crane my neck to peer deeper into the room, I see some sort of hallway that leads to many doors. Like a real house.

The room is packed with people. Adults and kids, some deformed. At first they all stare at us like we’re some of the sewage that poured in from the waters, but then this little girl about five years old with boils on her face that remind me of Lindsay wraps her arms around X
’s legs.

Then they welcome us like we’re their long-lost brothers who went out to sea and haven’t been seen or heard from in years. I take it all in. These people are a family. Not tied by blood, but something stronger. They need one another to survive. It’s a big colony.

This door on the side slides open and everyone stops what they’re doing and watch as a man in his late-thirties and four feet tall heads in our direction. His face is covered in scars. So are his arms and legs, and other parts of his body that aren’t hidden by his clothes. It looks like he’s been cut open and sewn back together again, like someone’s torture toy. It’s not the greatest sight, and I’m tempted to look away, but I hold my ground. I’ve seen some bad sights over the years. Lots of members of the League have been through some pretty bad stuff in their lives. But nothing as extreme as this.

The
thing that stands out the most is his mouth. He doesn’t have one. It’s just empty skin in the spot where his mouth should be.

Welcome Ray and friends
, he says, his eyes scanning us. I try not to flinch. Having him speak in my mind is one thing, but actually seeing him do it is something totally different. It looks as though everyone hears his thoughts, too. That’s some serious stuff.

Blaze
and some other dude—a guy with huge biceps—act as bodyguards, flanking Scar on both sides. Arms crossed over their chests, feet spread wide. Kind of freaky.

I didn’t think you’d accept me back down here
, X says, his voice very...emotional. That’s the best I can describe it. X’s voice is always flat, devoid of anything.
I’m sorry I left
.

I do not want to get involved with anything that does not
concern my family. Their safety and security come first, above anything else. Even before yours. You are no longer part of this family.

X clenches his jaw.

“You have to help us,” I find myself saying. “Because you need the League.” Scar’s eyes snap to mine, hard and cold. I didn’t realize I’ve spoken with my mouth. Uh, is the protocol to speak with my mind only?

How so, young
Zenith
?

I’m swallowing a million times pe
r minute. Tongue or mind? Eh, hell. “If something happens to the League, it will give the humans all the more reason to abuse people like us. No one will stand in their way like my dad is doing now.”

Scar stares at me for a moment and the silence is so thick I swear I can slice through it with a knife. Finally, he takes a step toward me and his bodyguards follow
. I was kidnapped as a child
, he says, circling me, his gaze locked with mine. Am I shaking? I check my fingers. Definitely shaking.
Took me right out of my home. How did they know I possess mind control? Five grand could do a lot to a father, especially one who was ashamed of his own son.
His back is facing me now. He turns around slowly, his gaze boring into mine.
My own father, one who was like us, handed me over. Let them torture me. Watched from the sidelines as they dug their knives into me, poking and prodding to see how much of the pain my brain could handle. See if I could block it all out, switch my thoughts and trick my mind into thinking I wasn’t being ripped alive. The more my father nodded, the more his cash register chimed.
His eyes flash with fury.
I don’t trust anyone with ties to the government
.

“My dad
’s not like that!” I say. “It’s his life mission to make the world a better place for us.”