17
The Greatest Hero of All
Dogboy crashed onto the deck of the Mariska a few feet from Wylie, who was using a needle and thread to stitch the main sail back together. Wylie threw his work down and knelt beside the boy, gently slipping off his mask.
Blood poured out of Bronson’s nostrils, running down his cheeks, then pooled on the wood under his head.
“Bronson,” Wylie said, shaking his shoulders. “Bronson, can you hear me?”
Bronson coughed. His head fell to one side. “What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know, buddy. One second you weren’t here, and the next… Well, it was almost like you fell from the sky.”
“Sounds familiar,” Bronson said. He sat up. Something scratched at the back of his mind. Something important.
“You sure you should be moving around already? Somebody busted you up pretty good.”
“There’s no time. The police are coming back this way. We need to get back to the docks. Quick.”
“I found a sewing kit in the locker over there, but I barely got started on patching the sail when you showed up.”
“Guess it’s up to me then. Let’s see if I can pull off one more miracle,” Dogboy said. He pressed his hands to the deck.
“What are you doing?” Wylie asked.
“Trying,” he said. His hands glowed orange. The aura extended out across the deck, climbing up the sides of the ship. He groaned. The ship shot forward twenty yards, drifted for a moment, then did it again. A fresh trickle of blood ran down Bronson’s upper lip. He licked it away
The ship shot forward again, except this time it didn’t stop. It glided over the water, well ahead of the police boats, until it came to a stop in its usual spot next to the dock.
Bronson collapsed. Wylie leaned down to check him. Out cold.
Down on Liberty Pier Wylie saw several police cars parked, their red and blues flashing. He took Bronson’s mask then picked him up.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Wylie said, “I’ll get you somewhere safe.”
Bronson came to on the sand underneath the pier. Wylie leaned against one of the support beams along the edge, twisting his neck to see what was happening above them.
“I guess we made it then?” Bronson asked.
“Thanks to you,” Wylie said. “Where’d you learn to do all that?”
“The powers? My dad gave them to me,” Bronson said.
“Duncan? You got them from Duncan?” Wylie said. “He used to joke about having real powers, but I never thought—”
“He told you about this… thing he did to me?”
“Sometimes, when we went out late after a show, he’d start saying he could predict the future. He’d go around the table telling us things about ourselves… names, important places, that kind of stuff. Then he’d have somebody pick a time and day, and he’d say what each of us would be doing then. I always figured it was just a fun party trick, but apparently there was more to it than that.”
“Did he say anything about where he got it from? A place? A name?”
“He claimed he got them from a man named Willowood on Halloween when he was a kid. You know, come to think of it, that’s what he’d say when he was having those seizures too. Willowood. What do you think it means?”
A siren blared from the pier above them. Wylie ran back to the edge to check it out.
“I don’t think they’re going to leave until they have somebody to haul in,” Wylie said. “I’m turning myself in, buddy. While they deal with me I need you to get out of here. You up for it?” He handed the mask to Bronson, who put it on.
“You don’t have to do this,” Dogboy said. “We can make it back to the shop easy from here. You can hide out there for a few days until they give up.”
“I was stupid,” Wylie said. “I sold them one of your dad’s salvage vests. They used it to pull Stonehouse’s ‘body’ away in case anybody was looking. I made them sign a contract because I didn’t want to give up the rights. They have my name, which means they’ll be looking for me by morning. Besides, a good guy doesn’t run away from trouble, right? He runs at it. And if it helps you get home safe all the better.”
“Promise me you won’t call yourself a coward anymore, Mr. Morgan,” Dogboy said. “What you’re doing… I kinda think you’re the greatest hero of all.”
“I’m only doing what Lyla would expect of me. But thanks. Now get out of here. I’ll see you in five-to-ten.”
Wylie held his hands above his head then started up the hill onto the pier. Dogboy ran in the other direction then went to find Cindy.
“Did you run it through a blender?” Cindy asked as she inspected the damaged Mariska. Bronson, his wet mask and cape stowed in his backpack, gawked at the long gash along the side of the ship.
“I can’t believe we didn’t sink,” he said. “So how long do you think it’ll take us to fix?”
Cindy smiled and shook her head. “Days. Weeks. No way we can fix this on our own.”
“Okay. Guess I’d better go break the bad news to Mr. Horum then.”
“No, no. I know a guy. You go home and rest. You’re a mess,” she said.
“A ‘guy’? What kind of guy do you know that’s going to fix a boat on a kid’s say-so?” Bronson asked.
“The kind of guy you don’t know, obviously. Don’t worry. He’ll have it ready to sail by morning.”
Bronson grabbed Cindy’s hand. “Well, in that case… Mr. Horum and I thought we might take her out tomorrow afternoon. Want to come with us? It’s a lot of fun.”
Cindy looked at the boat then back at Bronson.
“I figured you’d be sick of boats after tonight.”
“A little,” Bronson said, “but if you come I figure I can stomach it.”
Cindy smiled at him then leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.
“Ok, I’ll come on one condition,” she said.
“What’s the condition?” he asked.
She pointed at the tattered sail hanging from the mast. “Mr. Horum is in charge of sailing.”
“No problems there. See you tomorrow,” he said, heading back toward the pier.
Cindy waited until he was out of sight then pulled out her radio and switched it over to Channel 4.
“Axle?” she said. “Axle, you there?”
“What?” came the boy’s voice from the radio.
“Send Nuncio down to Liberty Pier right away. I have a boat I need repaired. Tonight.”
“This for him?” Axle asked.
“Yeah, what of it?” she said.
“We’ll help Dogboy out this time, but next time he’s gonna have to ask us himself. Maybe we can work something out like we did with Bugs.”
“Look, I’m going to bring him in. Just not yet. Now can you please send Nuncio? Jenn too actually. She can patch the sail.”
The radio went silent for a moment then squawked back to life.
“Nuncio wants to know how bad it is,” Axle said.
Cindy ran her hand along the damaged hull.
“Tell him he might want to grab a sandwich first,” she said.
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