19
Andrus Revealed
Making sense of everything. A new trick. The final battle. Going home.
Cindy pointed her camera at the action happening down on the stage. Her radio squeaked. She took it from her belt then switched it to channel four.
“Axle?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Axle said, “we gonna do this or what?”
“There was that big explosion. Now Dogboy’s guy is up on stage messing with everybody,” Cindy said.
“We should go help him, right?” Axle asked.
“Dogboy looks like he’s got a handle on it and he is getting a little prissy about ‘sticking to the plan.’ If we’re going to bring him over we should probably stay on his good side. I think we might need to postpone.”
“Alright, but we can’t postpone forever ya’ know,” Axle said. “Say, is your boy trying to kill that dude?”
Andrus pulled against the rope, but pulling on it made the rope get even tighter. He sunk to the ground as he pushed up on his mask. His face hit the ground and he stopped moving. Dogboy took a step toward him, ready to cut the rope if he needed to.
Andrus twitched and made a gagging sound. He pushed up on the mask again and it fell to the ground. He caught his breath, then lifted his head and smiled at Dogboy.
“Uncle Randolph?” Dogboy asked.
Kathleen walked up behind Cindy.
“I called the explosion in to the station. Wait… is that the Dogboy kid?” she asked.
“Yeah. He just knocked that other guy’s mask off,” Cindy said.
“Who’s the other guy?” Kathleen asked.
“Never seen him. Looks like a creep.”
“Well, keep the camera on them. Zoom in as tight as you can. I’m going to call my friends in the Colta City PD to see if they can tell me anything.”
Kathleen leaned down and looked in the viewfinder of Cindy’s camera. She put her arm on Cindy’s shoulder. “This is one of those nights reporters dream of, kid. However this shakes out this is going to be history. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen every day. Soak it in.”
“I don’t understand,” Dogboy said. “Why kick me out and then ask me to come live with you in a cave? What kind of mind game is this?”
“Hello, nephew,” Randolph said. He picked his mask up off the stage, folded it up, and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t see this in one of your little visions I take it? Good. I love surprises. Sorry if this is a bit awkward for you. Family spats in public are always dreadful.”
“You… why are you doing this?” Dogboy asked.
“I suppose you didn’t have your dad’s little gift before the car wreck. Think he saw that before it happened? I wonder if he knew I did it? I hope he did.”
“What did you do?” Dogboy asked.
“I’ll bet you think your parents’ deaths were an accident, a mechanical malfunction. But if your father ever taught me anything, Bronson, it’s this—”
Randolph kicked Dogboy in the stomach. Dogboy flew back onto his back.
“We make our own luck,” Randolph said.
Dogboy closed his eyes and held his hand out towards his uncle. The orange energy licked out and surrounded both him and his uncle.
They shot up like a bolt into the metal pipes above the stage.
Cindy let the camera droop as she took in what she’d just seen. “He never told me he could do that,” she thought. Her radio squeaked.
“Yeah?” she said.
Mr. Horum’s familiar laugh came over the radio. “Now that an expert trick,” he said.
Dogboy lowered them both down on a platform. He shot an orange beam out of his hand that pushed his uncle down on the ground.
“I need to know why,” Dogboy said. “Why would you kill them?”
“I was thought your mom and dad had a little more in the way of funding to offer the cause. A mistake. They were poor as church mice. But that mistake created you, right? A little soldier for my army… and with your dad’s talents, too. He would have made you waste your gifts just like he wasted his.”
“How did he use these powers?” Dogboy asked.
“So you don’t even know? That’s amazing. He did the same thing you’re doing now, kid. That’s his old mask. He went around our neighborhood causing trouble dressed just like that. Then brittle little Duncan had one bad experience and stopped it. How can you let powers go to waste like that? The only reason he got them in the first place is because he found the—well, no sense telling you about that.”
“You know where these powers came from?” Dogboy asked.
“I do, and they should have been mine. Of course, I got them anyway in the end.” Randolph lifted his hand. A darker burst of energy shot out of Randolph’s hand. It hit Dogboy in the chest, throwing him back off the platform.
Dogboy fell toward the stage. He closed his eyes and focused his energy, which did a whole lot of nothing. It’s difficult to concentrate when you are falling to serious injury or death. He closed his eyes again while imagining a cloud underneath him slowing his fall. When he opened his eyes his orange energy surrounded him, but he wasn’t slowing him down much.
Dogboy rolled into it as he hit the stage. He continued rolling straight into one of the giant cannons at the back of the stage. The cannon cracked, throwing some sparks out toward the band. The band ran toward the wings as the bandstand caught fire. The sounds of sirens wailed in the distance.
Dogboy sat up and shook his head. He tasted copper under his mask. A quick check. Warm and wet right under his nose. Ah, well. He’d heal. He crouched down behind the bandstand then crept around the edge of the stage toward the giant bald eagle statue.
Randolph drifted down to the stage surrounded by his dark aura. He picked up the microphone.
“So sorry for the interruption,” he said. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Winners or traitors? I say time’s up. Traitors the lot of them. Commence. Begin. Commence.”
More thieves ran through the crowd to join their brothers. They all carried zip ties and started binding the wrists of people in the crowd.
“I planned out this whole big night for you and not one of you wants to join me? Who will stand with us?”
Silence. But then the crowd started clapping. Then they cheered. Randolph smiled and waved to the crowd. “My guild, now we can—”
Dogboy landed between Randolph’s shoulder blades leading with his feet. Andrus fell down. Dogboy’s entire body glowed bright orange. Randolph clawed at the knife on Dogboy’s ankle, but as soon as his hand touched it his skin began to pop and sizzle. He screamed then pulled his hand to his chest.
“Where’d you learn that trick, nephew? Not even your dad could manage that.” Randolph chuckled. “I’m sorry for this, but if you won’t play nice you’re going to have to play dead.”
Randolph shot a burst of energy into Dogboy’s back. He pulled out a revolver from his coat then cocked the hammer. Dogboy’s aura flowed out and formed an orange bubble around him. He floated closer to Randolph. Randolph kept the gun trained on his nephew. Dogboy’s head shook. Tendrils of fire blew out from the eye holes in his mask.
“Tell your daddy I said ‘hi,’ kid,” Randolph said. He pulled the trigger. As the shot rang out the orange ball around Dogboy expanded. It hit the bullet, which melted in mid-air, the metal dripping on the stage. Then the energy slammed into Randolph, sending him flying against the wall. The energy grew larger than the stage as it pulsed out into the crowd. Most of the crowd was unaffected, but the guild members fell to the ground spitting and seizing.
The microphone floated up to Dogboy. He snatched it from the air. “If you’re with Andrus and you’re still standing I’m giving you ten seconds.” The orange ball contracted. Dogboy floated down and landed gently on the stage.
He laid the microphone down then walked over to his uncle. He pulled the knife from his ankle then pressed it against Andrus’s throat.
“Where did you get the power?” he asked. “No lies, or I use this. For the record I’m okay if you lie.”
Randolph chuckled. “No lies, but no truth either. Not yet.” Randolph’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he drifted off. Dogboy put the knife back in its sheath.
“Some revolution, Uncle Randolph,” Dogboy said. He picked up the microphone. The crowd began chanting his name: Dogboy. Dogboy. Dogboy.
“Folks—Colta City—Thank you. I don’t know everything you’ve heard about me but I hope you guys know I’m not with those thieves. I was a little confused for awhile but I’m better now. Don’t worry. I’m a good guy, or at least I’ll try to be a good guy.”
Dogboy floated into the air. “Thanks for letting me save you, and remember— I’m Dogboy.” He dropped the microphone, flashed a thumbs up at the crowd, then floated up and out over Dixon Park.
He saw the thankful citizens, injured policemen, retreating thieves, and others slipping by below him, then he disappeared into the trees on the south end of Dixon Park.
Cindy put her camera in its case and closed the lid. She walked over to Kathleen, who was typing her notes to send to the station.
“Kathleen,” Cindy said, “this was an amazing night. An amazing, dangerous, exciting night.”
Kathleen closed her laptop. “Yes, it was. What’s with the radio though? That isn’t from the station, is it?”
Cindy put her hand over the radio attached to her belt. She hadn’t thought anybody would notice.
“There’s this boy at school. He wanted to talk while I was working. He’s kind of a dork like that. Don’t tell on me, okay?”
Kathleen smiled. “I remember what that felt like.”
“What?” Cindy asked.
“My first crush.”
“Eww, no. He’s just a friend.”
“Sure he is,” Kathleen said. She walked over to the news van and put the laptop inside. “You need a lift?” she asked Cindy.
“Nah, that’s okay. I have a ride.”
“Who?”
Cindy looked away from Kathleen. “That boy from school. Well, we’re both getting a ride from the same person anyway. He’s not old enough to drive. Not that I’d ride with him if he did. Well maybe.”
“I thought so,” Kathleen said. She climbed up into the news van and it rolled away.
Cindy and Mr. Horum sat in Mr. Horum’s van waiting on Bronson.
“How long do you think it’ll take him?” Cindy asked.
“He come when he come,” Mr. Horum replied. Mr. Horum offered Cindy half of a Peppermint Pattie, which she accepted. They sat there chewing on their candy.
A loud THUMP came from the top of the van. A moment later Dogboy jumped in through the back doors then slammed them shut. Mr. Horum turned on the engine and drove.
“Bronson,” Cindy asked, “why didn’t you tell me you could fly? That was awesome. And your energy blasts… WHAM! But how was that guy able to do them too? Does this have something to do with Mayor Lane’s—”
“It was my uncle,” Bronson said. He looked up at her. “He… he killed my parents. Cindy, I’m… a little tired right now. Could we talk about this later?”
Cindy felt awful. “Yeah. Whenever you want. Sorry.”
Bronson smiled at Cindy. “No, you’re right. It’s pretty cool.”
“C’mere. After all that you deserve a hug at least.” Cindy unbuckled her belt and climbed back next to Bronson. She hugged him. He hugged her back. It was sweet.
Cindy pulled back. She smiled at him then kissed him. He tasted a slight hint of mint. It opened up his lungs, like vapor rub on your chest when you have a cold. He leaned into the kiss as he mirrored the movements she was making with her mouth.
She pulled her head back and took Bronson’s hand. “You did good tonight,” she said.
Bronson laughed. “You too. You stuck to the plan. Mostly.”
Cindy punched Bronson in the arm then climbed back up into the front seat. Mr. Horum looked over at her and winked. She winked back. Mr. Horum got on the interstate, the quickest route to the other side of town. He adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see Bronson.
“Where you live now?” he asked.
Bronson yawned and curled up against the window. “In the hideout, I guess,” he said as he closed his eyes.
“When I see you fight I think ‘Predsha, why big hero like this live like rat when you have four walls to use?’ I have much room. You live with me. Now we family, hmmb?”
Bronson snored from the back seat. Mr. Horum smiled and readjusted his mirror. “We fix it up soon, I betcha.”
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