High School Heroes II: Camp Hero

High School Heroes II

CAMP HERO

By

James Mascia

Published by James Mascia at Smashwords.com

2nd edition ©2013

Copyright 2010 by James Mascia at HSH Productions

Published in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations for reviews.

The characters and events written about in this book are completely fictional. Any resemblance between the characters and persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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For my parents, Ann and Henry, who have

supported me in all my crazy endeavors throughout

the years. They are truly heroes.

Author’s Note:

Camp Hero is a very real place on the eastern tip of Long Island, NY. Many conspiracy theorists believe that this place was the site for many unworldly experiments – some of them mentioned within the pages of this book. Are they true or not? I don’t know.

Prologue

May

Sophomore Year

I don’t understand how it came to this. How could I have been so right and yet so wrong all at the same time? If I could travel back in time I might very well stop myself from ever starting on this foolish crusade. What was I thinking? I wasn’t Moses, trying to free the slaves from Egypt amidst the terrible plagues.

But you could probably part the sea with a thought, the voice in my head interjected. Plus, I don’t think Ethan would like you with a bushy white beard.

Shut up! I told it.

I didn’t have time to argue with myself. One of those plagues had pretty much come to life and was, at that very moment, scaling the wall to get me. I didn’t know what to do. Once again, I was all alone. My friends were somewhere, far below, dealing with problems of their own. They’d be of no help to me.

Its scaly head came into view over the edge of the building. If I didn’t act now, the thing would chomp me into oblivion. I looked around for somewhere to hide, but all I saw was the flat, cracked, cement roof, offering no cover of any kind. There wasn’t even access back into the building, and I’d used the last of my power getting myself up here.

The phrase, Trapped like a rat, entered my head, not for the first time.

This’ll teach you to follow your dreams, Christine, the voice said.

I sighed, ready to face the inevitable. At least I’d succeeded in my self-made mission. No matter what happened, even if I was soon swallowed by the jaws of this hulking beast, I would know that I had at least made sure they were all safe.

The lizard-like eye widened when it saw me. I stood my ground, knowing there was little else I could do. I would show the monster no fear and would go down fighting. Besides, something would come to me at the last second, it always did.

Or would it?

Chapter 1

Never Ending Battle

Three Weeks Earlier

Flying. I really enjoyed it. One might think it would be scary, soaring through the air with nothing holding you up but sheer willpower, but it really was exhilarating. The wind in my face, and Pittsburgh shooting past below me – it had to be what freedom felt like.

I wouldn’t be able to do this soon. In another month – give or take – my mother would have a baby. Since she just started her new job, I promised I would take care of the baby after school. I couldn’t very well fly with a baby. What if I dropped it?

Chris. The voice filled my head, like so many did on a daily basis. This one, however, was calling me by name. Could you concentrate on our mission?

Is it too much to ask that you call me Christine? I asked my mental invader. And it’s not a mission! We’re a bunch of idiots chasing a car on the highway!

The car weaved through traffic in front of me, speeding down Interstate 396 at over a hundred miles an hour. The flashing lights of police cruisers lit up the cloudy afternoon as they diligently pursued their suspects. If I’d learned nothing else in the last few months, they wouldn’t catch the car. Like when those crack-addicts jacked the woman’s mini-van with the baby still in the back seat. We found the cop cars crashed in a ditch as we came by in pursuit.

No – the only ones who could stop them were us.

Yeah, but I’m the best at it, my mental invader added.

Ethan, I swear, you’re a child. I looked down at the ground, trying to find my boyfriend among the traffic. He should have been able to catch that car by now, seeing how fast he could run. Where are you, by the way?

Got caught behind a bus, he answered.

He’s lying, another voice echoed through my skull. This one belonged to Savanah. He stopped at a hot dog stand.

I was hungry.

You’re always hungry, I added. Now, catch up.

I’m right behind you, Ethan groaned.

Loser, Savanah said.

I flew closer toward the evading car. I finally got a good look at it – a white 1987 Chrysler Conquest, or so the news report said. It certainly looked its age and was hardly something I would make an escape in. Actually, I was surprised the thing could even do a hundred miles per hour. I half expected to see nuts and bolts flying off the thing as it rumbled across the pavement.

As I skimmed lower to the pavement, I caught my reflection in the windows of a building and felt the revulsion for what I saw. My half-eaten lunch threatened to revisit me at the sight. I looked absolutely hideous. I swore, when I agreed to come on these stupid little quests the others insisted on, I would never wear anything like this. Yet, here I was, skin-tight, black spandex covering my body from my neck to my ankles, and an ugly purple mask that covered my forehead and my cheeks, leaving only my mouth uncovered. I hated it. I think that’s why they made me wear it.

Actually, it was so you matched the rest of us, Ethan chimed in.

Really? I asked. So, this has nothing to do with wanting to see your girlfriend in something tight and black?

Well, there’s that too, Ethan admitted.

You do know, we can all hear you, the fourth member in our group, added.

Shut up, Pete! I screamed into his mind.

I was right behind the tiny car now. Close enough that I could see three people inside, but not much else. The reporter on the television at school wasn’t too clear whether the men inside were armed and dangerous. I didn’t see any guns. The three men didn’t look at all concerned with the police cars chasing them. They didn’t even look back at their pursuers. Very odd.

I projected the image of the car into my friends’ heads. Ethan would be pulling the other two behind him on skateboards. I’m actually surprised Savanah could stand on one of those things. I guess super-strength did have its advantages.

The cops were a good twenty yards behind. Four blaring squad cars weaved their way through traffic. The traffic was one of the many reasons they almost never caught the suspects.

Two cars ahead of the Chrysler, the drivers of which were too blind to see a high-speed car chase quickly coming up behind them, blocked its path. The driver of the Chrysler apparently didn’t feel the need to swerve around them, so he plowed headlong in between the two unsuspecting vehicles.

Damn.

The two cars both flipped sideways and their momentum carried them into the air. Even above the sound of the grinding steel came the ear-piercing screams of the people inside. One of the cars was going to fly over the divider and crash into oncoming traffic. The other would land in a ditch on other side of the highway.

I stopped myself in mid-air and reached a mental hand out toward the cars. Both stopped dead in the air, but their passengers continued screaming. Unfortunately, I added to their terror as I instantly lifted them another ten feet in the air, making the unlucky driver of one car tumble onto the ceiling of the upturned vehicle. The cop cars – which apparently had no intention of stopping – passed harmlessly underneath them. One officer looked up at me and the cars in awe as they zoomed by.

A second later, a black blur streaked past as Ethan, towing both Peter and Savanah, carried on the pursuit.

I’ve got this, Chris, Ethan thought.

Have a good time, I said as I set both cars down on the highway’s shoulder.

Landing next to the cars, I checked on the people inside. I didn’t see any serious injuries, though they were pretty shaken up. My own heart was racing, both from the exertion, and the massive amounts of adrenaline coursing through my body.

You okay? I asked.

The man in a business suit clutched his chest like he was having a heart attack. He looked up at me through his cracked driver’s side window like I was some kind of phantom. His mouth hung open as he gasped for breath. His hand never left his chest.

This guy worried me. I really didn’t want to give him mouth-to-mouth if he went into cardiac arrest. Are you okay? I repeated, a little slower this time, hoping he might understand better.

His eyes finally focused on me, as if he just noticed I was there. He clenched his jaw and nodded.

An ambulance siren blared from down the highway. He wouldn’t be left here for long. Rescue workers are on the way, I said and ran to the other car.

It was a woman with a young boy in the back. Both seemed fine. If anything, the boy looked as if he’d had an awesome time as the car flipped end over end. I made sure they were both fine and prepared to catch up with the others. They had to be a few miles ahead by now, but I didn’t think I’d have a problem catching up.

Just as I was about to take off, the window of the woman’s car shattered. I spun to see what happened. The driver’s side window lay in pieces on the inside of the car. The woman slumped to the side, shaking, her eyes closed. Sticking out of her neck was a tiny dart.

I took off without hesitation, flying as fast as I could along the highway after the Chrysler. They were aiming for me, and I wouldn’t give them a second shot.

Guys, we’ve got Agents.

What else is new? Savanah answered.

The Meta-Human Detection Agency – one of those unofficial government agencies no one ever hears about. It seemed like every time we went out, they were waiting for us. Almost like they…

Damn. Why didn’t I see it sooner?

I put on an extra burst of speed, forcing myself past my own speed limits. Another wave of nausea hit me, but I didn’t allow myself to stop. I had to catch them.

Back off the car! I screamed in my head.

Why? Ethan asked.

It’s a trap! They’re Agents.

In the distance, Ethan and the others weaved through traffic just ahead of the squad cars, trying to catch the Chrysler that was still speeding up the highway at faster than possible speed.

How can you tell? Peter asked, always the first to believe me – probably because he still had the biggest crush on me.

Look at how old that car is. It’s crashing through other cars at a hundred miles an hour. Look at the men in the car. They haven’t looked back once to see if they’re losing their pursuers – like they don’t care at all. They supposedly just robbed a bank, but I don’t see any guns inside the car. It’s a fake!

Silence. They were considering my words, yet still maintaining their pursuit. Ethan backed off a little. Mistake.

The Chrysler’s back window folded down and the man in the back stuck his head out. He grasped something in his hand, but I couldn’t tell what at this distance. I could see that it wasn’t a gun, nor was it large in size.

He threw the object on the street behind the car. It rolled toward Ethan and the others. I closed my eyes, knowing they would have no time to avoid it.

A half-second later, an explosion rocked the air. It wasn’t anything big, but as I opened my eyes, I saw Savanah flying up in the air, screaming. The object had exploded under her skateboard.

Savanah shot through the air like a kid’s toy. I needed to catch her. At the rate she was falling, she would land on the pavement right before the pursuing police cars. Savanah couldn’t take that kind of pounding.

She reached the apogee of her arc (yeah, I pay attention in science), and began her descent back to the highway. As her body flipped end over end, her eyes caught mine for just a second. But I was still over a hundred yards away, there were only seconds before she’d be road kill.

With one last burst of speed, more than I thought my body could handle, I covered the length of a football field in less than three seconds. The strain on my neck and shoulders was intense. I thought that one of my limbs might rip off from the force of the wind rushing past.

Savanah, now only feet from the highway, reached out.

I swooped low. My hands clasped both of hers. I swung her back up and away from the pavement, letting her toes just barely scrape the blacktop in the process.

I hate it when you’re right, she shouted.

How’s that different from any other time you hate me? I replied.

I soared straight up, and for the second time waited for the police cruisers to pass harmlessly underneath me. Then I flew forward again, Savanah in hand, intent on catching that car and causing some real damage. These Agents really needed to be taught a lesson. A thought, I knew, shared by the girl dangling in my arms.

Just drop me on the hood, she said. I’ll take care of the rest.

I nodded. The Agents never resorted to deadly force before. They always tried to incapacitate us – like they only wanted to capture us. Quinn said it was because they wanted to see what made us tick. But I think there was more to it – much more.

Speeding up again, I closed the distance between us and the Chrysler. Below us, Ethan bobbed and weaved through more of the small exploding balls the Agent seemed to like dropping. I worried he wouldn’t be fast enough to evade them all. If that happened, he’d be badly injured, if not killed.

They say things always happen at the worst possible moment. In this case, while holding an extremely heavy girl, and chasing down the Agents, my cell phone rang.

Grab my left hand! I shouted at Savanah. She swung her right arm over so both her hands now gripped my left.

With my free hand, I reached into my pocket and retrieved my ringing cell. The screen simply read: Home.

You’re not seriously going to answer that? Savanah asked.

I’ve got to. It’s my parents.

I flipped the cell open and already heard my father’s voice blaring out of the earpiece. Where are you? I called the school, they said you’re not in class!

Ugh! I thought. Why did he have to call the school first?

Sorry, Dad, I said as calmly as I could, with 100 mph wind blowing in my face. I’m helping Mr. Quinn in the storage room. Quinn would vouch for me, like he had the last three times we’d been caught out of class. So I was safe.

I don’t care what you’re doing, my father yelled. Your mother’s in…

Look out! Savanah called.

Pulling the phone away from my ear for a second, I banked left, practically throwing Savanah from my grip, as I avoided a grenade launched from the rear of the car. The small ball spun through the air, passing within inches of my head. A loud BOOM shook the air behind us. The shockwave nearly sent me tumbling to the ground. It couldn’t have exploded more than ten meters away from us.

I put the phone back to my ear.

Christine, what in God’s name was that? It sounded like an explosion.

Sorry, Dad, I blurted. Savanah dropped a couple of boxes, and my cell fell.

Okay. Listen, your mother’s gone into labor. I’m taking her to the hospital.

I fumbled my phone – and Savanah. I would have a baby brother by the end of the day. I definitely wasn’t ready for that. I was supposed to have another month to prepare. They couldn’t just spring this on me now.

Ummm… uhhhh, I stammered into the mouthpiece.

Drop what you’re doing and meet us down at the hospital. I’ll deal with Mr. Philmore tomorrow if he gives you a problem.

Ummm… uhhhh.

Chris, said a voice from below me.

Savanah was looking up, dangling by one arm as I gripped her hand tightly. Below, the Chrysler still sped along the highway.

Hold on a sec, Dad, I said, then turned my attention back to Savanah. What? She really should have known better than to interrupt. Did she really want my father to know what we were doing?

Drop me, Loser! she said.

Instantly, I let her go. Savanah fell the thirty feet from my hand to the car below. It only took a second, but it felt like forever. As she fell, I brought the phone back up to my ear.

Dad, I wouldn’t take 396.

What? He sounded confused – probably because it was the first time in my life I’d given him driving advice. Why not?

Savanah crashed on the hood of the car, crushing the hood and the engine block and causing the car to skid to a halt. Metal crunched and bent and the windshield shattered. Sparks and bits of glass flew in all directions. Savanah stood on the hood of the car like a warrior overlooking her opponent.

Just trust me on this. Traffic’s gonna be a killer. I hung before my father could say anything else.

I landed next to the car – it came across like it crashed into a brick wall. The passengers inside didn’t look any better. Besides all of them looking a little woozy, it appeared the driver had hit his head on the steering wheel pretty hard. Even though there was carnage all around, the thing that stood out the most were the MHDA patches on each of their shoulders.

I really, really hate it when you’re right. Savanah balled up her fist, and reached back like she was going to punch the driver.

I grabbed her arm and held tight. One of her punches would have caved in his skull. You can’t kill him! I yelled.

I glared at her until she dropped her arm. She knew why I wouldn’t allow it.

You can’t keep holding back because of what happened with Tommy, she said. Eventually, it’s going to be us or them.

Any further response was interrupted by the screaming sirens of the cop cars. Ethan and Peter stopped a few feet away, both looking over their shoulders at the vehicles.

I guess it’s time we make a hasty retreat, Ethan said.

Peter nodded his agreement.

The police cars screeched to a stop a good twenty yards away. The door shots open. Cops jumped out, guns aimed at us.

Freeze! one of them shouted.

See you back at school, I said.

I grabbed Savanah, and flew off before anyone could react. Ethan did the same, running off and pulling Peter behind him.

I couldn’t wait to see the news that evening. I wanted to see the MHDA explain why three of their men were arrested.

Chapter 2

New Troubles

I arrived at the Jefferson Regional Medical Center in record time. It was only about ten minutes from school, but flying back from the scene, explaining the situation to Quinn, changing into normal clothes and driving my car, it took closer to twenty.

My car was so slow compared to how I was used to traveling, either in Ethan’s arms or flying. I didn’t even want the car anymore. Not that it wasn’t a cool car. I’d managed to buy myself a nice ten year old Mustang with only 20,000 miles on it. Uncle Murray knew a guy and got me a great deal. I only held on it to keep up the appearance of normality.

I ran to the reception desk. Penny Carpenter. She’s having a baby, I told the nurse, who was busily copying data from several file folders into the computer.

Maternity ward’s on the fourth floor, she said without even looking up.

I stepped into the elevator and went up to the fourth floor. I was intent on asking the nurse about my mother, but it turned out I didn’t have to. As the elevator doors slid open, both my parents whizzed by – my mother on one of those rolling beds and my father running beside her – going toward the delivery room.

Mom! I shouted, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t hear me.

Before I could follow, they were through a double door and gone. All I could do now was wait.

So, I waited in the waiting room along with all the families waiting for other mothers to deliver. But I sat alone, thinking about how my own life would change with the little bundle of joy about to be brought into the world.

Not that I was upset over it, but the new baby meant my carefree days were over. I wondered how the others would take it when they found I was finished saving the world with them. Ethan was the only one who knew about the deal my parents made me agree to.

The deal was pretty simple. My dad had started a new accounting firm, and my mother needed to work until the business took off. Until then, I had to go home straight after school and watch the little bugger. Not my idea of fun.

After squatting in that uncomfortable chair staring at the blank gold-colored wall for several minutes, I decided it was definitely a mistake not to bring my homework. I might be there for a while, and I needed something to pass the time. I put my feet up on the coffee table and stared at the news scroll on the television.

The man came to the chair next to mine and started reading the Pittsburgh Tribune. I use the term reading loosely. It was more like nervously flipping through the pages, trying to take his mind off his wife, who was still in the delivery room. A quick glance inside his head showed he was definitely not taking a word of it in.

As his eyes wandered about the paper, I glanced at the pictures on the back page. It happened to be the sports section, and while I’m not into sports, my boredom got the better of me. Judging by the headline, Pirates Still Seeking Treasure and the picture of a player with his head hanging low and rubbing his forehead like he had a headache, I could tell the baseball team’s losing streak was continuing. Not that it mattered, but I really hoped they’d win soon.

While I was trying to read the shaking words of the article, one of the nurses stepped into the room. Mr. McGregor.

The man lowered the paper and looked up. His legs were shaking, causing a loud crinkling noise, as the paper rattled in his lap. For the first time, I realized his age. He couldn’t be more than five or six years older than me.

The nurse smiled at him. Congratulations. It’s a boy!

He threw the paper on the low table, and nearly tripped on my outstretched legs as he hastily stumbled toward the door. Oh my God! It’s over? I’m a father—where’s Sandy?

Relax, Mr. McGregor. The nurse managed to grab the man before he crashed into the door frame. Your wife is fine. Come with me and you can see her and the baby.

She led Mr. McGregor out of the room. Before the door shut, I heard him ask, Did she name the baby yet?

I wondered what my brother’s name would be. My parents had been throwing names back and forth, but so far they hadn’t picked anything yet. I just hoped his name wasn’t Chris. Christine and Chris – I shuddered at the thought.

If I had my way, his name would be Moe. One syllable – easy to remember. It didn’t get any better than that.

I picked up the half crumpled newspaper off the table and smoothed it out as best I could. At least the man left me some reading material. I couldn’t believe the headline. I think my heart actually skipped a beat. I guess it was only a matter of time before it happened, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take in. I sat up in the chair and began reading.

High School Heroes on the Prowl

By Gloria Tennan

Recently, the city of Pittsburgh has been invaded by a group of teenagers who see themselves as the city’s new law enforcement. Over the last two weeks, local police report sighting these teens at no less than eight crime scenes.

Reportedly, these heroes have stopped each of the crimes in progress before local law enforcement could respond. But are they truly a Godsend? Or are these four young adults just vigilantes out seeking attention?

Where do they come from? And why do they flee the scene when police arrive? If these children are truly here to help, why do they refuse to show themselves? Why refuse to speak with police? The answers are obvious: These teenagers know the illegality of their actions.

Wearing masks to hide their identities, the vigilantes act like characters out of a comic book. But these children are no Superman or Captain America. The brutality shown on some of the suspects they have apprehended has been appalling. One man was reportedly sent to the emergency room with internal bleeding. He spent two days in the intensive care unit before being released to police custody.

Sgt. Eric Carlson of Pittsburgh’s fifth precinct has this to say about the teenagers: Their illegal activities do not help the police. Instead of going out to catch real criminals, we must waste our time cleaning up their messes. I don’t think they realize how many suspects they catch are released because they weren’t apprehended by the proper authorities.

Mrs. Bernadette Franklin, one of the first to spot the costumed teens, said, They scared me one night. I saw them chasing a man down the alley by my apartment. These kids should be arrested for disturbing the peace!

Not everyone in the greater Pittsburgh area sees the four youths as a threat. Captain Falcon, another costumed superhero, said, I think they are doing a fine job. I’ve always said a true hero is someone who will do what others won’t. These kids seem to be taking that message to heart.

When asked to reveal his identity, Captain Falcon declined to comment.

I stopped reading, disgusted with what it implied about us. I tried to push the stupid thing out of my mind. The harder I tried, the more I thought about it.

The article didn’t mention our powers. That had to be news, though. Gloria Tennan made it seem like we were just four regular kids running after criminals, wearing ski masks and carrying baseball bats.

Whoever read that article would surely hate us.

Maybe that’s the point, the voice in my head said.

Gloria went out of her way to make us look bad. She conveniently forgot to report the man sent to the ICU was on some kind of hallucinogen and was firing a gun into a crowd, screaming about deranged zombie dwarves.

Peter shocked him real good. Normally even a low-level shock would be enough to knock out a horse, but whatever the guy was on kept him going. Ethan broke his wrist and Savanah punched him several times, just to get the gun out of his hand. Then to get him to calm down… I didn’t want to think about what we had to do.

If we hadn’t done what we did, there’s no telling how many people he might have killed.

About ready to go down to the Tribune and use my power to make Gloria punch herself in the face – over and over – I instead decided to go to the bathroom and splash water on my face to cool off. I couldn’t get over that she never mentioned our powers in the article. Even if she meant to tear us down, that still had to be news.

The voice in the back of my head returned. How absurd would her article be if it talked about a flying girl and a boy who made lightning?

The voice was right.

After a few minutes – and several facefuls of water on my face – I exited the bathroom, and saw my grandparents entering from the opposite side of the waiting room. I resisted the urge to run up to them squealing like a little girl on Christmas. Instead, I waved until my grandmother pointed me out to my grandfather, then came over.

Hiya, hun. She kissed me on the cheek. Any news yet?

I wanted to say, Do you see a baby? but figured that would be rude, especially toward my grandmother, and shook my head instead.

How’s my girl? my grandfather bellowed as he scooped me up into one of his powerful hugs. I hugged him back, but only half-heartedly. He must have sensed my lack of enthusiasm, because when he let me go, his eyes narrowed at me.

My grandmother, totally oblivious that anything was amiss, continued on about the little bundle of joy my parents were bringing into the world. I can’t believe he’s gonna be here tonight. It seems like only yesterday your mom told us she was pregnant.

I remember that day vividly. Thanksgiving – the day my grandfather gave me his journal – a book that would have a profound impact on my life from that day forward. Even though I’d read it through already, I still kept it on my nightstand. I glanced through every now and then, as if the pages held some great secret I had yet to discover.

Do you need to talk? My grandfather’s voice echoed through my head. I had actually inherited the ability to read minds from him – all my powers, actually. Essentially, anything I could do, he could too.

I shook my head again, but pointed to The Tribune, lying where I’d thrown it. If anyone would understand what had upset me, it would be him.

I’m going to sit and read the paper, he said to my grandmother. You two can talk for a while.

That’s fine, dear. Christine, why don’t we go to the café downstairs and get some coffee? We could be here a while.

My grandfather was already hidden behind the paper, reading the article on the front page. Reluctantly, I went with my grandmother, not at all interested in chatting with her.

The elevator was crowded on the way back down to the lobby. I did my best to keep my cool, but I think a bit of my fear radiated from me into the other people inside, because when we stepped out of the elevator, everyone was shaking.

Cold in there, my grandmother said, rubbing her hands over her arms.

I didn’t respond. I had to let her think she was shuddering because of a chill. The truth would have been too much for her to take.

She led me through the lobby to the little café. How’s school, hun? she asked as we approached the doors.

Fine, I muttered. Truth was, with all the running off I’d