Ch. 6 - The Jaguar and the Bam Bam Kid

“It’s been three weeks!  And you have nothing!”  Rob slammed the phone down.

His wife Candy and their kids 12-year-old Henry and 9-year-old Merone sat at the kitchen table.  They had long finished dinner, but the uncleared dishes spoke of the unsettled mood that left the family feeling shaken.  The Tennants were five – Rob, Candy, Henry, Merone, and the eldest, 16-year-old Igor.  Igor had been sent off to camp.  On the last night, there was a fire.  Igor somehow rescued his classmates and then himself turned into fire and shot into the night.  This after they had, earlier in the summer, gone on a cruise in the Chesapeake with Rob’s brother Matt and Matt’s family which includes his wife and three kids.

On the nocturnal cruise, the children fell into the Bay as the boat sailed over a mysterious submerged light.  None of the six kids was injured.  In fact, each felt invigorated swimming in the mysterious glowing waters.  Then weird things began to happen.

It started with Igor’s strange disappearance.  He seemed to be able to control flames and turn himself into lightning.  Then, 16-year-old Dean developed the ability to control his body’s density, and the denser he became, the more impervious to pain was his skin.  Eddy, a 14-year-old star long distance runner, was now able to walk on clouds, control the wind, and fly.

Then there was Henry and Merone. 

Henry, 12, was gearing up for his first season of full-tackle football.  Henry, with his dad’s help, convinced his mom, Candy, that he’s be ok playing full contact.  She was worried about concussions, but she had to admit, he was growing into toughness and could probably handle it. 

So they signed him up for a camp to develop basic skills before practice.  Mostly, the camp involved non-contact drills.  However, on the last day, they went live action.  Rob knew this was coming.  He was going to watch the scrimmage but just before he began his cell phone rang.  It was the FBI agent he’d been talking to daily.  Desperate for a word about Igor, he walked away from the crowd of watching parents.  The agent took 25 minutes to tell Rob no new news.  He was absolutely frustrated.

As he talked with the agent, he heard in the background a loud commotion and a lot of screaming.  When he came back over, three parents jumped into his face pointing fingers and yelling.

“How old is your son?”  Screamed a frantic mom. 

“What?”  Rob was confused.

“How old?”

“12.”  Rob was in no mood to be attacked, especially not regarding his son.  “All these kids are 12.  Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why?’  Didn’t you see?”

“No,” now Rob was nervous.  “I had a call.  I had to turn away.  What happened?”  Then, Rob was horrified to hear the sound of sirens.  Ambulances were coming.  He looked to the field and for the first time heard the sounds of tears.  Boys were laid out, crying.

Now a dad was right in Rob’s face.  “The first time they gave your son the ball, he ran through everyone like a freight train.  We could hear the bones cracking from the sidelines.”  The man was livid.

Before Rob could perceive what was happening, the coaches had run over and come between him and the other parents.  One coach was calming the parents of the injured kids down.  The other coach, a former NFL running back, was talking to Rob, and he was astounded.

“You’re Henry’s Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t get it.  You’re …”

“White?  Yes, I am.  I am a white man and my son is black.  He’s adopted.”

“Well,” the coach continued, “He’s the most amazing 12-year-old I’ve ever seen.  He’s been spectacular all week, in every drill.  He’s the fastest, most powerful and most athletic.  To be honest, I probably should not have let him carry it against these kids.  He ran through them like he was a full-grown man.”

Rob was surprised.  “He’s barely 5 feet tall.”

“Yeah, but he’s got explosiveness in his legs like I have never seen in my 30 years in this game.”

Rob looked at Henry who had a downcast look on his face.  Henry had spent the last few weeks just worrying about Igor.  Rob hoped football would take his mind off things.  But, Henry is tender-hearted.  He’s got the body for football, but not the mentality.  Now, a bunch of kids were hurt because of Henry’s running.  Rob knew Henry would not like this.

On the way home, Henry said nothing in the car.  As they drove, the phone rang.  Candy’s voice was frantic.

“I can’t find Merone.”  This was the last straw.  Their precocious 9-year-old daughter had not shown any symptoms since the boat incident, other than being extraordinarily energetic.  Now, she was missing?

“How long?” Rob whispered into the phone.

“A few hours.”  He could hear the tears in Candy’s voice.

He and Henry pulled into the driveway.  The July sun was cooling as evening set in.  Candy met them and the three stood in the yard, not really saying anything. 

The stillness of the twilight was interrupted by a gleeful distant shout.  “Hi Mommy, Daddy.  Henry.” 

They looked around, not knowing where Merone’s voice was coming from.  “Up here.”

They craned their necks and saw her in the top of the backyard tree.  The lowest branch was 10 feet up.  Before anyone could say anything, she shouted, “Watch this!”  Face first, she bound down the tree, her nails clutching the bark like cat claws.  The tree was easily 50 high, and she went from top to bottom in seconds.

Rob and Candy were speechless.  Merone was beaming.  “And,” she smiled, “Watch this.”  Then Merone squinted her eyes into a snarl, a hilariously cute snarl on the face of a 9-year-old girl.  She stared as another tree a few feet away.  Fire shot out from her eyes and consumed the branch.  It was ash in seconds.

Henry ran into the garage. 

Rob and Candy stared at one another. 

Merone continued talking.  “As far I can tell, I can shoot the flame about 10 feeShe shot another flame burst that dissipated above their heads.  “And watch this.”  She held her hands up.  Her fingernails sharpened and extended like five razor sharp claws.  “I can even dig them into brick.”

“How do you know that,” Candy asked with a new concern.  “I was at the middle school.  I climbed up on top of it.”

Candy frowned.  “To your room, right now!  You know you are not to go to the middle school without one of your brothers.”

Merone frowned and bore her claws at Candy.

Mustering as stern a father voice as he had in him, Rob barked, “You will not threaten your mother with your newly acquired superpowers, young lady!” 

Merone burst into tears.  “OK Daddy.”  She ran in the house and up to her room.

A few seconds later there was a loud crash in the garage.  A year earlier, Rob had hung a punching bag in the garage.  He wanted to work-out.  He told the boys whenever they felt frustrated to work it out punching the bag.  When Henry saw Merone in the top of the tree, his confusion and fear overtook him.  He ran in the garage to work out his feelings on the bag.  He hit it so hard, the bag ripped off the hanging fixture, through the garage wall and into the dining room. 

Two hours later, after the insurance adjuster had left and the four Tennants had picked at their dinner, a phone call came in, from someone new. 

“Mr. Tennant, this is Major Seamus O’Toole, of the United States Army.”

“I am too old to enlist.”  Normally Rob showed respect for army officers.  His own father was a retired Lt. Colonel and Vietnam vet.  But, he was in no mood for any more unexpected news.

“Actually sir, I am calling about your son, Robert.”

“He’s too young to enlist.  And he’s missing.  And for your records, he goes by his middle name, Igor.”

“Yes, Mr. Tennant, we actually know all of that.”

“Did you say the army?” 

“Yes sir.”

“The FBI is already looking for Igor. At least, they say they are.  How many government agencies are looking for one missing teenager?”

“More than normal Sir, when that missing teenager turns his own body into lightning.  We’ve been tracking his movements as best we can.”

“And,” Rob was suddenly interested.

For the next 10 minutes, Major O’Toole gave Rob a rundown.  The army had been following an unnatural lightning path that had zigged and zagged all over the globe.  From Europe, over Russia, over Japan, over Australia.  They could follow it and then they’d lose it.  And then they’d pick it up again.  By the time the conversation ended, it was clear to Rob that this army major had no idea where Igor currently was. 

 That’s when he shouted, “It’s been three weeks!  And you have nothing!”  He slammed the phone down.

The rattled family sat there for several quiet moments.  All at once a blinding lightning flash crashed right in the back yard. 

“What?”  Rob gasped.  They all ran to the back deck.  There stood Igor, completely naked, but none the worse for wear.  They brought him inside.  With their son home, the Tennants fears could give way to relief ad curiosity.

Ch. 5 - Welkin

The sand swirled.  It was nearly impossible to see, though the host, Prince Akbar, had chuckled that this was mild.  This prince had been cast off, excommunicated from the royal family of the small, oil-rich Persian Gulf nation.  He was too ambitious, and his ambitions led him into associations with several Middle East terrorist groups.  It was the kind of thing his family, on good terms with the United States, tried to avoid.

But he had access to hundreds of millions of dollars, even in his exiled state.  He tried contracting mercenaries and drug lord.  He had from time-to-time financed Al-Qaeda and other lesser known but far more dangerous groups.  He was not particularly religious.  Prince Akbar simply wants things in place, the chessmen properly positioned so that he could overthrow his country’s government, assume power, and raise the profile of his nation in the region.  Anyone who died in his quest for power, even his own relatives, was an expected and acceptable loss. 

On this occasion, he was sending a large force against the royal troops in Southeastern Saudi Arabia.  His small army had gained a foothold on the coastline two nights ago.  In normal circumstances, the Saudi military would have no trouble dispatching this glorified thug in less than a week.  But in the initial battle, the Saudis lost all communication and later reconnaissance revealed their entire battalion to have been routed.  And no one in the Saudi government knew what had happened.

Now, 100 Saudi tanks supported two infantry battalions, nearly 1000 soldiers, and 5 helicopter gunships stood within view of a force that appeared to be about 100 soldiers and 7 cranes of some sort.

“<What are those things?>”[i] General Ahmed wondered. “<Get me a description of those cranes or whatever they are,>” he barked at a subordinate. 

“<Your majesty, this is much larger force,>” the nervous contract soldier reported to Akbar.  “<We will not repeat our success.>”

Prince Akbar turned to his new colleague, retired American Lt. Colonel and now wanted criminal, Augustus Shenko.  Shenko nodded. 

Shenko turned to his second-in-command.  “Ready the Assault Warrior-7’s.”  The 7^th version of Shenko’s assault suits were by far the best, in his opinion.  Each was an armored suit 12 feet tall piloted by an ex-American military man who Vengeance had managed to free from the prison facility at Ft. Leavenworth.  These were ex-navy SEALS, ex-marines, and ex-army rangers.  All were destined for life at Leavenworth for their crimes.  Now they were getting rich, testing Shenko’s latest invention.  This would be a live test.

The battle was fast and furious, but decidedly one-sided.  The Saudi troops, though holding a seemingly insurmountable advantage in numbers were no match for the “Assault Warrior-7’s.”  In a panic, they radioed Washington in hopes of American air support.  Shenko using equipment of his own design was able to completely disrupt the navigation systems of the American jets.  By the time the American planes were on-line and Saudi reinforcements arrived, the oilfields were burning and all 100 Saudi tanks had been destroyed.  Shenko and his team had vanished into the Persian Gulf in a stealth submarine.  The Saudis lost many men and billions of dollars in oil revenue.

Half a world away, the Powers family was gathering for dinner in the Kilmarnock home.  Dean could not avoid discussing his incident with Billy Rebuks even if he wanted to.  The talk had made it all over town by the time he got home.  He needed time to process it all. 

“Phenomenal.”  Matt had now said this word a third time.  He was referring to everything that had taken place since the night the six kids fell into the Chesapeake Bay that was aglow from no-one-knows-what.  Igor had had the incident at camp and had not been seen since.  Now Dean was cracking bones and parking lots.  He and Melanie were on-edge.  His brother Rob and sister-in-law Candy, Igor’s parents, were a wreck.  Somehow, Matt was more interested than worried.  Somehow, he felt he knew his nephew was not hurt or in danger.  “Phenomenal.”

“Hey Dean,” Ben said smiling.  “Maybe you could be a superhero.”

“Ben,” Melanie chided.

But he continued.  “We could call you Phenom.”

“I am going for a run.”  Eddy announced.

“You haven’t finished eating,” Melanie responded.

“I just need to move a bit and you won’t let me run after dark.”

She looked at him.

“I’ll finish eating as soon as I get back.”

Finally Matt said, “Be back in 30 minutes.”  Melanie glared in his direction, but did not say anything.

Eddy really was done with this.  Since they had fallen in the Bay, his parents could not stop talking about it.  But he felt great.  All he wanted to do was run.  He felt so good, he was thinking about world records.  When he did a 10-mile a few days ago, he average 4 minutes 20 seconds per mile.  When he was done, he wasn’t really tired at all.

On this warm summer night, he ran to clear his thoughts.  His parents had raised him to pray and he prayed best when he ran.  He asked God to show him what all of this meant.  No answer came except the feeling that he and his brothers and cousins were entering the beginning of something, some story.  He felt like they were just scratching the surface.  However, Eddy, wasn’t given to speculations, so for now, he ran.  Normally he would pay attention to his pace.  But this night, he just ran.  He didn’t really notice where he was or how fast he moved. 

He was out of the center of town where they lived, running along a cornfield.  He knew the farmer, so he turned in to run among the cornrows, something he did often.  A strong breeze moved across from his left to right.  It felt good.  In fact, Eddy felt like his body was drinking in the breeze. 

A cloud cover was descending, almost like a fog.  Eddy felt like the cloud was coming to him, like he called it.  Or it called him.  He really did not know.  He just ran into the cloud.  The eeriness of the quiet, the cornfield, the cloud bank all gave way to energy.  Eddy ran and felt himself climbing like running up a hill. 

Often in distance races, Eddy would run even with the top competition until they hit a tough hill.  At that point the other runners would gasp as Eddy sped up.  By the time things flattened out, the others were running, but their wills were broken.  Eddy won easily. 

Now, he had the same sensation, of running up a hill.  It suddenly occurred to him that it was odd to feel this way running through a flat cornfield.  Already, the thought had gnawed at him that he did not remember fog covering this farm in the late afternoon.  What was going on?

Eddy ran to a break in the fog and emerged into a startling discovery.  He had in fact been climbing – the cloud.  He was now 100’s of feet in the air.  He looked down to see the farm, the town, and miles and miles in each direction.  The cloud was dissipating and he began hurling toward the earth, picking up speed as he fell.  Instinctively, he focused on forcing himself to stop. 

It was if a wind emitted from his body.  No, that’s not right.  He controlled the surrounding air and whipped into a wind so that it broke his fall to the point that he was suspended in the air, held aloft by an upward blowing wind, about 20 feet above the cornfield.  He realized that he controlled this.  His fear was gone.  He laughed out loud.

Then Eddy summoned a wind to shoot him into the sky at a blinding speed.  He found his body unaffected by the air friction.  Cold did not bother him.  He flew and flew.  A plane taking off from Richmond’s airport was ascending.  Eddy couldn’t help himself.  He called on the wind that was his to control and soared alongside the plane.  Passengers looking the Western sunset were shocked to see a 14-year-old boy outside, in the air, smiling and waving to them.  Just to drive the point home, Eddy flew right across the front of the plane in full view of the flight crew. 

He carried on like this well after dark before heading back toward Kilmarnock.  Beneath him he could see the shimmering blue of police light.  Horrified, he realized the squad cars were at his house.  How late was he? 

He landed a block away and slipped in the back door.  His mother ran to him and embraced him.  His father started into a harangue, and then stopped himself.  Matt explained to the police that it had been a misunderstanding.  They left, and Eddy told his tale. 

After an hour of talking, Matt and Melanie sent the boys to their rooms, and headed to bed themselves.  Eddy could hear Matt on his cell phone.  “Rob, hey, it’s Matt.  Yeah, um, I need to tell you about Eddy.  What?  Merone and Henry?  Seriously? …”

Eddy, Dean, and Ben kept talking.  As they did, Dean was on his computer.  Eddy shook his head.  Dean was always on that computer.  And Ben worshipped Dean.  Eddy just wanted to go out and fly again. 

“The sky; the vault of Heaven.”

“What?”  Eddy looked at Dean. 

Dean replied, “The vault of Heaven.  It is the definition of the word ‘Welkin,’ a middle English word for the firmament or the sky.”

Ben smiled, “Phenom and Welkin.  Two superheroes.”

Eddy looked back.  “What about you?”

Ben’s face turned pensive.  “Well, I do have something to tell you.”

---

[i] Dialogue in < > is translated from Arabic.

Ch. 4 - Phenom

For, Ember, it was easy.  She took a break from her experiments for just a little over a month.  Mr. Shenko had given her a roster of names - unmarried men who worked for the department of defense.  These were men whose lives were focused on work and not much else.  The key was finding one with high level clearance  and who was extremely lonely.  Coulten Lowry turned out to be perfect. 

He had access to the entire record of the federal gold reserves.  He also had access codes that would enable her to gain knowledge of enough federal secrets to bribe terrorists on three continents. And she'd only share the minor stuff with the terrorists.  She’d set them against each other even as she pushed them into the path of the United States.  A distraction.  The intelligence she would lure out of Mr. Lowry, oh, what a delight!  No one could contain her ambition.  Why was she so power-hungry?  It did not matter.  She just was. 

Dean Powers was just hungry, for a sandwich or something.  He and some of his buddies on the cross-country team had just finished a summer run – 10 miles.  He felt good running, but 10 miles had worn him out.  He and his friends gathered at the Dairy Queen in town.

A pick-up truck pulled in the lot and 5 guys piled out of the back. 

“Hey, Tayshaun,” Dean yelled.  It was some of the offensive starters on the football team and Dean had been friends with star running back Tayshaun Banks since they were the best students in their 8^th grade math class.  Tayshaun approached, wide smile across his face.

“It’s my man Dean.”  He gave the handshake-hug.  “Where’s fast Eddy?”

Dean was long over the fact that while he was very good in cross country, his younger brother was so fast in long distance running, there were rumors of a college scholarship, a rarity in that sport.

“He and Ben are working on a project with my Dad.”

“Tay,” a voice yelled from the pick-up, “Enjoying your talk with the puffing skirts?”  Billy Rebuks had been a starting offensive tackle since his freshman year.  He had been a big pain in Dean’s neck longer than that.  Now, they were all juniors and Billy continued to grow.  He was up to 6’ 3”, 275lbs. 

“Shut up, Billy” Tayshaun barked with an irritated look on his face.

The big boy sauntered over, ignoring Tayshaun.

“Puffing skirts?”  Dean asked, regretting the question as soon as it left his mouth.

“Yeah,” he crowd, “skinny little boys, running their butts off in a sport no one watches.” 

“Huh-huh, huh-huh,” he mocked, “listen to hard I breath.  Oh, I ran 10 miles.  Oh, oh, oh.”  He pirouetted effeminately. 

Dean looked at him with scorn. 

Unsatisfied that his taunts weren’t striking home, Billy continued.  “Tell you what, Powers, I am going to help you out.”

“Billy!”  Tayshaun’s voice was harsh, but Rebuks shoved him aside. 

“Powers, I am going to shove that milkshake down your throat.  Maybe if you guzzle all those calories, it will fatten you up just a bit.”

“Come on, Billy, man.”  It was the voice of another player, DeAndre White.  He was not a star, but definitely a tough kid.  Dean had tutored him through 10^th biology and in the process the two became friends.  He was moving toward Dean, Billy, and Tayshaun.  Billy’s only acknowledgement of White was to shoot a middle finger in his direction. 

He stepped toward Dean whose neck was feeling hot.  Yet, there was something odd …

“Seems my friends don’t like me threating their little buddy.  Are you a girlfriend they share?”

Now the Dairy Queen assistant manager, Cory Twinesette, a recent high school graduate, was approaching.  “I think that’s enough, Billy.”

Rebuks reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into a tight headlock.

“Ughh …” Cory could not breath.

“Aw, Cora, did you come to see the show up close?”

“Let him go,” Dean spoke through gritted teeth.  He was filled a feeling, an overwhelming, what, emotion?  He did not know.  But he knew this.  It was not fear.  He, at 5’ 9”, 140 lbs, should be very afraid of the hulking jock.  And he felt no fear.  And he did not know why this was.

“Oh, the puffing skirts squeeks.”

“No,Dean,” Tayshuan tried to gently come between the lineman and the runner.

With one hand, Rebuks violently shoved Cory Twinesette to the parking lot’s concrete surface.  The sun was beating down.  It seemed like time and sound were fading to the background.

Billy turned to his teammate.  “Back off Banks.  I’ll block for you, but you shut your mouth and get back to the pick-up truck.”  By now DeAndre White was on the other side of Billy Rebuks, wanting to intervene.  But he did not know exactly what to do. 

Dean extended his hand to move Tayshaun aside.  Tayshaun was shocked at the force of Dean’s small push.  He was actually thrust back a few steps.  Dean’s eyes’ never parted from Rebuks.

“Let see what you’re made of runner.”  Bill sneered, “Let’s see what’s in the heart of a puffing skirt.”

He reared back his balled up fist and thrust it with everything he had into Dean’s chest.

Tayshaun heard a crack.  Something had popped.  Dean had not moved, not a centimeter.  He was still glaring at Rebuks who had dropped to his knees.  He was staring at his wrist which showed a protruding bone, easily seen in spite of the rapid swelling. 

For several seconds, on his knees before Dean, agape, he stared as his now shaking arm.  The pain shot through him.  All his knuckles and his wrist were broken.

“Guess we’ll need a new offensive tackle,” DeAndre muttered as he made his way back to the pick-up.

“Dean.”

“Dean.”

Dean was coming back to himself, back to an awareness of something more than his rage.  It was Tayshaun’s voice.  His hand was on Dean’s shoulder.  He pointed to the ground.  Dean’s feet had sunk into the parking lot, making two 2-inch deep divots in the concrete. 

Ch 3 - Lightning Boy

"Nothing?"

"Not that I can see."  

Matthew Powers shook his head.  It had been a weeks since the incident in the Bay.  His brother Rob said that the kids, Igor, Henry, and Merone had shown no ill effects from falling into the water, essentially, into the light.  And Matt had continued to grill his own kids, Dean, Eddy, and Ben.  

Does anything hurt?  Do you feel hot?  Do you feel sick?  

No, Dad, we feel great.  Never better.

It was true.  Eddy, a budding star in long distance running, had his best time in a 5 kilometer run.  He blew away his previous times.  But it wasn't just him.  All the kids felt fantastic.  Ben, who had just started mowing lawns, was eager to do his jobs and add more customers.  Dean's mind, always ahead of his peers, seemed sharper.  Matt would find him up late at night reading.  And he wasn't reading Harry Potter.  Rob was a pastor and Matt was a pastor and a theologian.  He found Dean reading the works of Nikolai Berdyaev.  

When Matt quizzed Rob, the same was true on his end.  Igor, Henry, and Merone were flourishing.  He continued his conversation.

"So, are you sending Igor to the camp?"

"I don't see why not." 

Matt changed the subject.  "What about you?  You were in that water too."

"Matt, we've been through this."  Rob sounded not irritated, but definitely weary.  "The water felt great, not too cold, not too hot.  It felt like an overwhelming energy.  Even opening your eyes under the water didn't hurt the way it normally does in the ocean.  But, all you could see was unbelievable light.  It was beautiful, and that's it."

"And since then," Matt inquired with some hesitation.  This was at least the third time they'd had this conversation.

"I don't feel any better.  I know, I know, I know. The kids all feel like they could fly to the moon.  My lousy knees still hurt like heck when I run one mile."  

"Alright," Matt sighed.

Rob hung up the phone.  He was as confused as his younger brother, but he didn't know what to do.  He and Candy had talked and talked, and they could not think of a reason to hold Igor back from the camp.  It was design camp.  Igor had blossomed as a creative artist both in painting and sketching, and in building.  Entrance to this camp was limited.  Only 20% of the applicants were accepted.  It was an expensive camp, one the Powers had already paid for.  They let Igor go and prayed for the best.

It seemed to be the right decision as Igor had an amazing week of new friends and exciting learning.  Igor hated school unless it involved building or drawing.  In those cases he was at the head of the class.  And his team in design camp had done so well, they were to be honored as "Top Structural Designers."

The final night a group of friends crowded into a dorm room.  There was a lot of laughing and card playing.  Someone had smuggled in him some beer.  Igor had resolved not to touch the stuff, and kept his commitment.  That did not stop him from reveling along with his friends as they slowly became drunk.  The party was rocking on when someone smelled smoke.

An exposed wire had ignited a blanket.  The party was raucous enough that no noticed until it rose to a dangerous fire.  And then, panic.

They were on the fourth floor of a building in which only this morning the elevator had stopped working.  And this now roaring fire originated in the dorm room right next to the stairwell.  Smoke was filling the air.  High School students streamed into the hallway only to have their eyes burned and their lungs choked in the smoky haze.  There was utter confusion.  

"The windows," someone yelled.  "We have to jump out the windows."

"Are you nuts?"  Another kid scream.  "We are four floors up."

"We can wait out on the ledges until the fire department arrives."

Some began this plan, opening windows and piling out onto the ledges.  But there certainly wasn't enough room on the ledges for all those students.  And some of the 16 and 17-year-olds, under the influence of alcohol, acted rashly.  Igor, still inside, was unsure of this desperate plan.  Then he heard "Oh No."  

Two boys, one a friend of his, had lost their balance and were plummeting down.  

Without pausing or thinking, Igor leaped over the throng of bodies, into the air, and then down.  But he wasn't falling.  He was ... flying?  He didn't know.  He also was not aware that his body was turning to flame.  What he would remember was an odd sensation that everything around him seemed to slow down.  He felt a sense of control that increased as his temperature increased.  But, thought he became hotter and hotter, he didn't feel hot.  He just felt energy.  And it felt good.

He grabbed the boys by their shirt collars and slowed their descent so that they landed unharmed - unharmed by impact any way.

Their shirts were aflame. Igor's entire body seemed aflame.  They looked at him - wide-eyed.  He returned the shocked stare.  Then he blurted out "Stop, drop, and roll.  Stop, drop, and roll."

"Ahhhh!"  One yelled.  And only then did Igor hear the cries above him.  He was coming back to himself.  He looked up to see flames shooting out of the room where the fire originated.  Soon the hall would be an inferno leaving boys the terrifying options of death by burning, suffocation, or fall.

Igor, felt flames rise up around and he knew the blinding light was coming from him.  He shot into the air and in less than a blink he was hovering outside the fourth floor balcony that was starting to bend under the weight of too many bodies.

“Get inside,” He yelled.  The boys just stared at him blankly.  He surged above their heads, into the smoke, into the flame.  It was as if could see everything and nothing.  He momentarily wondered if he was dying or had died.  He shook that off and flew through the inferno to the source, the dorm room where it started.

Igor landed in the middle of bright, angry flames.  He could sense the slightest differences in temperature, but he never felt hot.   It didn’t hurt.  In fact, he noticed that as the heat increased, he felt full of unbelievable energy.  It was exhilarating.  He could draw the heat to himself.  Instead of the fire reaching for the precious oxygen in the air, as fire does, he controlled and drew it all to himself. 

The night air filled with the ring of blaring sirens as fire trucks filled the parking lot.  The ladder truck was in place quickly, evacuating students one-by-one.  Igor, a lover of fire engines since childhood and to this day, never noticed.  He had been absorbing the fire into himself.  It was nearly out.  The smoke was still deadly, but the source of it, the raging flames were now contained.  Consumed in Igor’s body.

He felt as if he would explode.  He felt as if he were going to blow up and blow the entire North Carolina State University campus off the map.  He was shaking violently.  He stuck his right arm, straight as an arrow, out the window, skyward.  A stream of lightning flew forth into the night, into the deep of space.  After more than it minute, it stopped. 

He expected to feel exhausted, but he didn’t.  His body resorted to its fleshly form, the flames and lightning now receding.  He didn’t know what to think or do.  He walked to window and looked down.  Hundreds of people stared up in silence.  Firefighters.  His buddies.  Professors who ran the camp.  The girls who had all flooded out of the girls dorm.  It seemed like everyone in the camp was there, staring up at him.

Not knowing why he did it, he suddenly jumped out the window.   No one had time to yell stop.  In a flash he was light, then on the ground, and then in human form again, unharmed.  Still, all eyes were on him.  And there was a nervous stillness. 

His buddy Jack said, “Um, Igor … you’re …”

“What?”

He looked over at Stephanie, the cute blonde he had met.  It started as a crush and only this morning, they walked and held hands.

She giggled and blushed.  “Hi Igor.”

Only then did he realize that while the flames had not harmed him, his clothing was not so lucky.  No matter what powers you have, even if your name happens to be Powers, if you are 16, you don’t want to have 400 people staring as you stand buck naked.  Igor’s body suddenly again turned to pure, hot light, and he shot into the night. 

Reports of unusual lightning strikes were noted by both the national weather service and United States surveillance satellites. These reports made it to the desks of Colonel Dukes and Major O’toole. 

Ch. 2, - the Powers Family Cruise

Matthew Powers loved to sail.  It was not a family passion, but his, and he passed it on to his kids.  His parents, his brother, his sister - none were sailors.  But Matthew Powers loved boats and when the family came around, he shared that love.  For their part, the parents, siblings, nephews, and nieces enjoyed it as long as Matt was at the helm.

So it was early in the summer of 2018 that Matthew had rented a large boat.  He and his wife Melanie had their boys, Dean (16), Eddy (14), and Ben (12).  And Matt’s older brother Rob and his wife Candy came along with their sons, Igor (16), Henry (12), and daughter Merone (almost 10).  Ten of them on the boat was a bit tight, but they were enjoying a night cruise on the Chesapeake Bay.  They had been out for about an hour.

“What’s that?”  Ben was pointing at a strange light that was beneath the surface. 

Matt began to turn the boat about.  “I am not sure.  Let’s check it out.”

“Let’s not.”  It was Candy and she was uncomfortable.  “Don’t you remember that story about a U.S. submarine surfacing and smacking right into a Japanese fishing boat, killing all aboard?  That was a few years ago.”

“I promise you,” Matt said, “That is not a submarine.”

“Then what is it?”  Melanie asked.

“We’ll just take a quick look.”  Matt was trying to sound calm, but he couldn’t hide his uneasiness.  But, he did not know why he felt uncertain, so he plodded on. 

The boat came over a submerged, extraordinarily bright yellow-greenish light deep in the bay.  The area of illumination was roughly 100 sq meters.  The source of the light could not be determined.

The six kids were fascinated. 

“Cool,” Henry exclaimed.  Merone and Ben were pointing and smiling. 

With all six on the same side leaning over, the boat began to tilt.  “Could you guys back away from the edge of the boat, please.”  Candy said.  It wasn’t a request. 

“Guys,” Melanie added, but before she could get another word in, something bumped the bottom of the boat, hard.  The boat lurched and dipped.  All six children were jettisoned into the shimmering deep.

“Merone,” Candy screamed forgetting that her nine-year-old was on a swim team and won every race she entered.  Rob moved quickly to the edge.

“No,” Matt started.  “Wait. Rob …” 

Too Late.

He, like the children disappeared into the shining brilliance beneath them. 

Now Candy was leaning over the boat.  “What do we do?”

Melanie was moving toward the edge with a life ring.  Within a few seconds, all seven emerged and seem OK. 

“Is it hot,” Matt asked. 

“No,” Rob responded.  “It feels really good.”

“What do you see down there?”  Melanie asked.

“Nothing but blinding brightness,” Dean answered.

Matt lowered the rope ladder.  Despite their worries, the group stayed in that spot over the underwater light for over an hour.  Matt tried calling the coast guard, but his radio suddenly failed.  He got nothing but static.  He marked their coordinates and kept trying.  They watched the water for any sign, any indication of what might be happening.  Nothing changed.  Matt kept trying the radio.  No luck.

Finally, they left. They sailed away and as the brightness shrank from view, Matt tried again and finally the radio worked -  in fact it was perfect, as if there had never been a problem.  He reported what they saw.  No, the coast guard responded, no one else has filed such a report.  Yes, they would check it out. 

After the group returned to the marina, they drove to urgent care.  The six kids had a slight glow about them.  For unknown reasons, the light did not stay with Rob the way it did the children.  He felt like he had been swimming in saltwater.  Actually he felt fresh, strong, better than he had felt in a long time.

The children felt odd.  Igor and Henry both had sense of explosiveness within them.  Merone felt it too.  Each of the three, in different ways, felt like they wanted to run 100 miles at a sprint.  Each felt like they were ready to jump out of their skin.  Dean, Eddy, and Ben had a sense of heightened awareness.  They were hearing and seeing and smelling everything.  It was like their senses were all operating with super-powered ability. 

The doctor at the urgent care office was utterly confounded.  He did not know how to react to this odd turn of events.  He released the children with no treatment plan.  What was there to treat?  But, Candy, wondered, what is that glow.  It was fading.   But why did it not stay with Rob the way it did the kids?

As they were leaving the urgent care, Ben noticed the caulking around the windows peeling.  The windows were across the room, a good 20 feet from him.  He looked at the peeling caulking.  He tilted his head and looked again.  He furrowed his brow in concentration and held his right index finger out in the air.  He made a motion as if he were painting a vertical line in the air with his index finger.  Melanie and Candy watched and glanced toward the window to see the caulk re-attach with a fresh coat, as if Ben were re-caulking the window just by waving his hand in the air. 

Melanie and Candy looked at each other.

[Next - Kid Heroes]

Ch. 1 - Portent of Fire

On a sultry early September evening, the air dripping with heat you can't shake, in an alley behind a greasy burger joint, an unlikely trio gathered.  

Ember, a slight but tightly-muscled 30-year-old 3rd generation Japanese American and a brilliant chemist.  She had completed her PhD by age 24 and since had done numerous experiments on how fire affected the human body.  Most of her work included test subjects, homeless people or college students recruited, not knowing what they were in for.  Not knowing they were contributing their lives to further her work.  She contacted the other two to share what she had developed. She had thoughts of the three forming a trio, a nefarious symbiosis.  The only thing they truly had in common was a thirst for power.  Certainly, once they achieved it, they would go after each other.

The other two were Claude Thomas and Augustus Shenko.  

Thomas now called himself "Vengeance."  When he was Claude Thomas, he was the hope of a nation, specifically the nation of Mali.  Not known for their stable of olympians, Thomas burst out of nowhere taking the bronze medal in the decathalon, and four years later the gold.  He then shocked the world four years later by claiming silver in judo and gold in greco-roman wrestling's heavyweight division.  Sports Illustrated declared Thomas the world's greatest athlete.  However, the wheels came off the tracks when it was discovered Thomas had experimented with every steroid and growth hormone known to man, and many not yet widely used by athletes vying for an illegally gained advantage.  Thomas went from beloved hero to poster-boy for all that is wrong in competitive sports.  Embittered, he turned to Ultimate Fighting Championships where he lost in a title bout.  Searching for advantages, he came under the guidance of Dr. Wan and Master Shu.  Master Shu spent years training Thomas in every conceivable martial art.  Along the way, Dr. Wan not only pumped Thomas full of drugs.  He performed unorthodox surgeries, lengthening Thomas' bones, increasing the density of his bone and muscle mass, stretching his tendons, and in the end, turning him into a 7'4" mountain of man who, full of chemicals, was out of control with rage.  It turned bad and then fatal for Wan and Shu when their creation turned on them and in a conflagration of holocaust proportions destroyed their Hong Kong lab.  Both men died in the fire, but Thomas did not.  Since then, authorities have not been able to bring him in, though hundreds of law men and women have died trying.

Augustus Shenko, a 20-year veteran of the army and a man with a PhD in physics from North Carolina State University, had not been a criminal for long.  His military career was in weapons development.  He designed super-suits, impervious to small-arms fire.  A soldier in one of his suits could withstand explosions, could fire a variety of projectiles, missiles, and bombs, and could single-handedly defeat enemy platoons.  The government denied funding repeatedly, and over the years, Shenko lost support from his closest military allies.  He managed to retire with honor at the rank of Lt. Colonel, but he was utterly frustrated.  On the way out the door, he managed to steal millions of dollars in cash and many millions more in equipment.  Since then, his crimes have become known, but not his whereabouts.  He's spent the five years since retiring in hiding, experimenting, perfecting his super suits.  Since he is no longer military and on the run, his motivation for such endeavors is questionable.  He began as a patriot desiring to use his inventive talents to advance American might, but ended up as a genius mercenary, looking to have the world acknowledge his accomplishments and also seeking to gain wealth with his monstrous creations.  

On this hot night, the type of night when blues songs are written, Ember, Vengeance, and Augustus Shenko sat in a dingy alley, the two men listening as the young woman hatched a plot that would make them all rich and strike fear into the hearts of world leaders.

Air Force Colonel Michael Dukes and Army Major Seamus O'Toole did not know of the sinister gathering, but they wish they did.  Col. Dukes had been a fast-rising officer.  He modeled his career after his idol, Colin Powell.  He never met the now retired Secretary of State and U.S. Army General.  But, he knew every conceivable fact one could gather.  Dukes would not be the first African-American anything and he was grateful.  His country had finally had a black president and black generals and black business owners.  Racism still reared its ugly head, but more and more, at least in his experience, he found he succeeded or fell due to his performance, not his pigmentation.  Michael Dukes nearly always succeeded.  

Dukes had spent the last five years trying to track down Augustus Shenko.  When he took the assignment, he knew it would eat up time, lots of it.  He knew if he stuck with it and did it right, it would likely deny him the command opportunities needed for Colonels to gain stars.  But he decided this was important.  He had done his time as a pilot and was happy for a new challenge.  So when the Chief of staff of the Air Force asked him to consider being the leader of the investigative task force, he accepted.  There were enough secrets in the head of the now rogue Lt. Col.Shenko that a task force was dedicated to catching him.  And Dukes had a capable assistant, Seamus O'Toole.

O'Toole majored in criminal justice and was a 4.0 student.  He went into training with the FBI, but after a few years as an agent, something about the work frustrated him.  He shifted gears going through officer candidate school and joining the army.  He was with the military police, and he found the work as frustrating as what he did while as civilian.  In both contexts, though, he emerged as a brilliant investigator.  He also found, as much he did not want it to, success in the army came as easily to him as it confounded his peers.  When he received the chance to join the task force and work under the command of the Air Force Colonel, he jumped at it.

The past year they had worked together, Dukes and O'Toole developed a great working relationship.  Dukes had the command bravado, the cockiness of a pilot, but also the big-picture vision to see how all the pieces of the military operation fit together.  He also knew how dangerous were the classified secrets Shenko might sell to the highest bidder.  O'Toole was a man born to pay attention to the minutia.  He excelled as a crime-scene investigator, but also as one who put it all together.  He could spot a series of seemingly unrelated facts and quickly demonstrate the narrative those facts were writing.  However, for all their talents, the military men had no leads.  They did though know for sure that Shenko was building new combat suits.  Dangerous combat suits.  And they knew of the existence of Vengeance and Ember.  They were not investigatng these other two, but both turned up on the threat lists.

What Dukes and O'Toole knew and the trio in the alley did not was that the United States was creating a team of their own ... the unlikeliest of response teams, ready if needed.

[Next - the Powers Family Cruise]