The Ables (41 page)

“Hey!” I heard the burglar yell behind me, no doubt wondering where his assailant had disappeared to. That was followed quickly by more yelling, this time from much further away. It was the police. The victim of the purse-snatching had finally managed to wrangle some more help. I leaned down and looked through the brush and saw two figures running full speed in our direction. I turned and looked at the robber, who still needed one or two more seconds to process his situation.

Eventually, he decided to cut his losses and took off running down the path in the opposite direction of the cops.

“He’s getting away,” Bentley said, sounding disappointed.

“No, he’s not.” It surprised me to hear Chad’s voice. He sounded calm and confident. “Come on, James,” he said.

Ooph!

I jerked my head to the left, wondering what Chad was up to. I became a spectator this time. I saw nothing, of course, because Chad had gone invisible. At least, I assumed he had. All I could see was about a hundred yards or so of path, with the burglar moving away, getting smaller and smaller as he ran.

Ooph!

James returned. “Hi, guys,” he said, smiling. “I’m back. What’s he doing?”

“Nothing yet,” I said anxiously.

Not knowing what to expect, we watched, the intensity building as we watched for Chad to make his move.

Turns out he’d already made it, turning himself invisible and then getting down on his hands and knees in the center of the path. The robber never saw it coming, obviously, and ran full speed into the invisible obstruction.

Chad had lowered himself at the last second to ensure the burglar’s shins would be the point of impact, which sent the man tumbling into the air in a series of rapid cartwheels. He landed flat on his back on the dirt and instantly let out a loud groan.

The cops came racing up the path just as Chad made it back to our position and turned himself visible again. The group let out a small cheer as everyone raved about how impressed they were with his quick thinking.

“Good job, Chad!” Henry said, now seemingly completely over his original suspicion of the reformed bully.

“That was amazing!” James cried. “He never saw it coming!”

There were many pats on the back for Chad, and he deserved them. Some part of me—the selfish part—wanted to point out that I’d originally subdued the criminal and reclaimed the purse, but I said nothing. Even though a little praise of my own would have been nice, Chad definitely deserved his.

I grabbed the purse out of Bentley’s hands and tossed it quickly back into the open path. The police had cuffed the burglar and had begun leading him back down the path the way they’d came. They were searching alongside the path for the victim’s belongings and found the purse easily.

And that was that. The criminal was apprehended, and it was all because of us. While our classmates were practicing to face pretend criminals, we had already helped bust our first real one. And I’m not gonna lie: it felt awesome.

After the lopsided victory over criminal activity, the Ables began to increase the frequency of their unsanctioned field trips to the park. About once a week or so, we would go back to New York and attempt to find and stop a crime. We told our parents we were practicing and honing our hero skills on our own, and shockingly, they all bought it every time. We’d assemble in the cornfields, which still bore the scars of the fire that destroyed them, and then hop off to the big city to play heroes.

It was mostly small stuff: a lot of purse-snatchers or muggers. Henry had once found a car illegally parked in a handicap spot and called the police anonymously. He beamed while we watched the traffic cop write the ticket. “Sometimes,” he boasted, “we don’t even need to use our powers to stop crime.”

But I was quickly growing tired of the little fish. My thirst for adventure—for danger—grew, even though I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Park hoodlums were easy targets, and honestly, something the cops could easily take care of without us. I wanted a real challenge. Someone more our equal … or at least more worthy of our powers.

James, Freddie, Chad, Henry, Bentley, and I were now fairly inseparable. No one else at school was all that friendly to us as a group, not even the other disabled kids. We’d probably carry the stigma of our fall from grace for years, so we might as well go through it together.

After our weekly Thursday evening trip to Jack’s Pizza, we were on our way back to my house, warm cheesy breadsticks in our bellies. Along the way we stopped for James to run into a little shop right on the edge of what you’d call the “downtown” area of Freepoint. A few moments after entering, he returned, beaming and holding a small rectangular box.

“My new business cards,” he declared proudly, shoving the box out in front of him, arms outstretched.

He carefully opened the box and removed a small stack of the cards. “I want each of you to have one,” he said as he began handing them out one by one.

“I already have one,” Henry said half politely. “Thanks.”

“No, that’s the old one,” James assured him.

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a new contact email address on there specifically for emergencies,” he explained as he went around handing out the cards. Then, as an afterthought, he said, “I charge $2 more per trip for emergencies. Plus, these also are printed in Braille as well as regular typeface.”

“Why do you print them in Braille?” Bentley asked curiously.

“I can’t read it if it’s not in Braille,” he said, closing the box on the remainder of the cards.

“Why do you need to read it, though?” Bentley was still confused.

“Well, for one thing, I can know it’s printed correctly,” James offered.

The group started walking again while the conversation continued. Henry started it back off. “Wait a second, you can’t read the regular print anyway, though. You’re blind. Even if the Braille is correct, the regular print could still say ‘Billy the Babysitting butthead’ or something.”

James was more confident with this answer. “Oh, I have my family at home verify the regular print.”

“That still doesn’t answer why you pay extra to have the Braille printed on there.” The logic-driven computer inside Bentley’s skull wouldn’t let him give it up until it made sense to him. “Who else needs the Braille but you?”

Henry jumped in. “Yeah, if the cards are for your customers … I mean, your customers aren’t blind, right? Aren’t blind people rare? How many blind people do you even know?”

“I know Phillip,” he countered, making a fairly convincing point.

But Bentley was still searching for logic. “Right, sure. I get that. But you
know
Phillip. Like, he’s you’re friend. You see him almost every day. You give him a card once, like tonight, but then you still have a bunch of Braille cards left over. You don’t give Phillip one every day.”

He said it casually but confidently. He wasn’t asking; he was telling. But he was wrong. I cleared my throat a bit. “Um. Yes, he does.”

Bentley couldn’t believe it. “He does?”

“Yup,” I confirmed. “Every day I see him, he gives me one. He’s quite the little self-promoter.”

James just smiled ear to ear and said, “It’s called marketing.”

“I also get his …” I cleared my throat, mostly by coincidence, “email newsletter.”

“Jeez, Louise, dude,” Henry said, my vision shaking side to side along with his disbelieving head.

Bentley and I just chuckled in amusement.

“Showmanship,” James explained further. “Like Finch,” he added, stopping everyone in their tracks for just a beat before we all continued. “That guy has some showmanship, is all I’m saying. Very dramatic. He’d be excellent in marketing.”

Now that we were a superhero unit again, albeit an unofficial one, and the dust had settled a bit since Mom’s death, the topic had begun to turn toward Finch more and more. Almost any conversation we had would eventually make its way back to him as we tried to get to the bottom of the mystery.

Bentley had been breaking out the books again and studying all the angles of what he found as we collectively tried to piece together the mysteries surrounding this man. In between the nights we’d sneak away to fight real crime, we’d meet or sleep over at someone’s house and do research and planning.

“Are we sure it’s only showmanship?”

“What do you mean, Phillip?” Bentley asked.

“I mean … what if he really is planning to usher in the new Elben and unleash hell on Freepoint? What if all the nonsense he spouts … he really believes?”

“Even easier for us, then, I’d say,” came Henry’s reply. “Crazy people are easier to defeat than logical people.”

“Fair enough,” I allowed. I hadn’t even told the rest of the gang about Finch’s belief that I was actually the one he was seeking. In addition to seeming terribly unlikely, it was also the kind of thing I thought might cause some of my friends some concern. “But, just for the sake of argument … what do we do if it’s all true?”

No one had an immediate answer, but it didn’t take Henry long to find one. “We’re screwed.”

Freddie agreed, saying, “Yeah, screwed.” He sucked on his inhaler nervously.

“If it’s all true, Phillip,” Bentley said, “then Finch is the least of the real worries.”

“Well … if it isn’t Captain One Arm and his band of screw-up friends.” The voice belonged to Steve Travers and had come from our left. There was an alley running down the middle of this block, and he’d called out to taunt his former friend as we passed. We took the bait, as we all stopped and turned down the alley.

“Oh, hey, Steve.” Chad tried going with friendliness to start.

“Oh, hey, Steve,” Steve said in a mocking tone. “What, are we buddies again now? Are we friends?”

“Look, dude, let it go, okay? I wish you knew how stupid you sound when you talk like that.” Chad was standing in the middle of our little group, with Bentley and me sort of out in front. Steve had two friends with him—members of his SuperSim team. I briefly wondered why so many hooligans hang out in alleys.

“I see, I see. Now that you’re part of the special crowd, you’re above all that bullying nonsense, right?” Steve took a few steps forward, stopping just a couple feet from where we stood.

“Yeah, I guess so, yeah,” Chad agreed.

“So I suppose if I was going to mess with your little friends here … you’d try and stop me, then?” Steve reached out and poked Henry in the chest.

Henry didn’t have the patience to be treated that way and do nothing. “Man,” he started to warn Steve. But before he could finish, Chad darted between his old friend and his new one.

“Mess with them and you mess with me,” he said.

Steve wasn’t the least bit scared. It was strange seeing how much the relationship between them had changed in just a few months. He fired right back in Chad’s face. “What makes you think I’m scared of you?” Steve’s eyes began to glow, signifying he was gearing up to use his eye-beam powers. At the same time, his right arm went back in preparation for a punch.

But before he could make another move, Chad disappeared.

Steve punched anyway, aiming for the spot where Chad was standing, but as his fist came forward, his arm suddenly stopped in its tracks. Chad reappeared, standing one step to the side of his former position, his one good arm holding Steve’s in place. “Not quite fast enough, Steve,” Chad said, disappearing again immediately as Steve and his buddies darted their eyes around frantically. We heard the scattering of Chad’s footsteps as he took off running away down the alley.

“Screw this,” Steve spat, placing his fingertips along the edge of his temple. His eyes began to glow again. He quickly spun away from us and fired off a stun-beam blast down the heart of the alley. As Steve’s laser reached the middle point of the alley behind him, we saw it smack into the back of a retreating Chad, negating his invisibility and sending him sprawling forward onto the blacktop with a grunt.

Steve merely laughed and began walking toward the spot where Chad had fallen. “My powers have always been superior to yours, Chad. You know, honestly, I’m not sure why I ever allowed you to be in charge of me, like I was just your little lackey. I’ve always been stronger than you.” He reached the spot and stopped, looking down with his hands resting on his hips. “And now I’m going to show you.” He reached up his right hand to his temple, but just as his laser was about to discharge, his body flew up violently into the air, and he dangled for a second like a limp puppet. Suddenly, his body careened to the left, smacking into the alley wall with a dull thud. He slipped down the side of the wall and collapsed with a wheeze.

It wasn’t a surprise to see it. At least, it wasn’t a surprise to me. I made it happen. With nothing more than a flick of my wrist, I’d lifted the bully off the ground and tossed him into the wall like a rag doll.

I stood there, breathing a little heavy, my arm still outstretched. Chad looked up from the ground at me, his face suggesting shock or surprise. I glanced around me at the rest of the guys, who were all just standing there in nervous silence, looking at me like they’d seen a ghost.

“Damn, Phillip,” Henry finally said. “That was … intense. I didn’t even know you could do that.”

“I didn’t either,” I said, a little surprised at my own strength.

Chad rose to his feet, went over to Steve, and leaned down to inspect him. Then he started walking back toward the group.

“Is he … okay?” I asked.

“He’s fine. Just got the wind knocked out of him, from the looks of it.” He looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed our little scuffle. “We’d better get out of here, though. He’s going to be out for blood when he comes to.”

On the walk back to my house, I lagged a bit behind while the others led the way, mulling over what had just occurred. I was mildly impressed with myself for having shown such a leap in the use of my powers. But I was also a little freaked out by it. Because I didn’t know I could do that, or at least I hadn’t ever done it before, it ended up feeling a little out of my control.