Hero (Gone 9)

Shade was carefully watching the girl’s hand, her trigger finger in particular, wondering how quickly the girl would react. It was one thing to disarm cops who didn’t expect to have to cope with some speed demon; it was a different story when it was a Rockborn girl who knew all about Shade and was watching her with unblinking gaze. Plus, the girl had been quick. Not Shade-quick, not even close, but quicker than a normal human.

Shade concluded that she could disarm the girl, but she would need a distraction. She vibrated in place, ablur, a missile ready to launch at the first opening.

“Who the hell are you?” Dekka demanded.

“My name is—”

“She’s my daughter, Simone, you pathetic fools!” Markovic crowed as his thousands of component parts whirled in a contained tornado. “My little girl!”

To the surprise of everyone, Markovic included, Simone said, “Dad, if you hurt anyone, I’ll let them have you.”

“Okay, no one move,” Dekka said. “Listen, whoever you are, Simone, it’s not going to work. Your father here either de-morphs and lets us take him in, or he dies. You may get Armo, but we’ll get him. And you.”

“Go away!” Simone yelled. “Leave us alone!”

“No,” Dekka said with deceptive calm.

It was like a scene from some old western, Shade thought. Like Clint Eastwood in a saloon facing down six guys with guns. But this Clint—Simone—would not win a fight against the Rockborn Gang.

“Simone? My name is Malik.” Malik moved slowly closer and drew Francis with him, out of Dekka’s line of fire. “I don’t know if you know this, but there are three kinds of supers—people with powers.”

Simone heard him but kept her gaze firmly on Shade, always with her pistol hard against Armo’s shaggy head.

“Monsters, villains, and heroes,” Malik went on. “To some extent we’re all of us monsters! I mean, look at comic book characters. The Hulk is a monster, right? He doesn’t mean to do anything wrong, but he is what he is. Then there are villains. In comic books, that would be people like—”

Shade moved so fast no one saw her. She leaped, stuck her right index finger through the trigger guard, and yanked the weapon away. One second Simone held a gun, and the next instant she didn’t.

Armo reached back over his shoulder and grabbed Simone’s arm as she tried to go airborne. “Uh-uh-uh, no you don’t.” Simone tugged with surprising strength, but Armo’s huge paw had wrapped two-inch-long black claws around her arm, and if Simone wanted to pull away, she would have to leave an arm behind.

“Markovic or Bug Man or whatever you are,” Dekka said, “I’ll count to three, and you’d better be trending human or I’ll shred you.”

“That would be unfortunate for your police officer,” Markovic sneered.

“What?”

Detective Peter Williams came through the door, staggering. His face was bathed in sweat. His hands and neck erupted in boils, pustules forming and popping and oozing. Then it was as if his feet were nailed to the floor. He struggled to move but could not.

“I . . . ,” Williams gasped. “Don’t let him . . . Kill him!”

“See, if I die,” Markovic said, “then your pet cop gets sicker and sicker and . . . and here’s the cool thing, the thing that makes it so scary: he will get sicker and sicker and yet not die. Hah! He doesn’t die until I decide he dies.”

Williams, unable to walk farther, sank in a heap.

“He stays like that, on his knees, right here, with every kind of disease eating him alive until—”

“No, Dad,” Simone said.

“Don’t be an idiot, Simone, it’s leverage,” Markovic snapped.

Williams gasped, “Kill him! K—”

His words ended in a grunt of pain and a sound like someone choking on a bone. Then his tongue, swollen to three times its usual size and turning black, filled his mouth and rendered anything else unintelligible.

Shade, still in morph, watched with horrified fascination as every visible inch of Williams was effortlessly conquered by billions of microorganisms. Her vaunted speed was of no use now.

“I don’t want a fight,” Markovic said. “I really don’t. See, I’m a businessman; I understand risk. Reasonable risk, unavoidable risk, potentially profitable risk. And the thing is, I know if this turns into a bloodbath, you may kill me. But that won’t save your pet cop. And before I go down, I will turn each of you into . . . that.” He turned his insect-cloud head toward Williams.

“Let him go,” Dekka said, knowing her words were useless.