CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

Mass Healer, Part 2

----------------------------------------

Sam felt sharp-nailed fingers tighten on his hand, drawing him out of his reminiscence and back into the present.

“Are you alright?” Wolf-Woman asked. “You were gazing off into the distance…”

“I’m—”

Miracle Girl smacked Sam hard in the shoulder. “Holy shit, guy… I thought you were just one of those strength-type jocks with a crappy secondary healing gift?!”

She was most likely referring to the rumor that Herculean, who insider sources claimed had mistakenly registered as a healer, was recently seen displaying a destructive force rivaling most strength type bruisers of mid to high tier levels. Tall tales about Herculean had already begun spreading on the hero forums too. Stories about how Herculean was hiding his real power because he was moonlighting as a villain or the story about him being Apex’s long-lost younger brother—that one annoyed Sam—were just some of the outlandish tales being told about the new vigilante.

Funnily enough, Sam thought these tall tales were a lot more believable than the truth that he was the latest in a long line of heroes that were trained to be fabled Argonauts by the legendary Mr. Saturnday himself.

“Um,” Sam straightened up, “my main gift’s a healing power.”

Satyr-shit,” Miracle Girl snapped. “If you were as physically powerful as the rumors claim and have primo-healing abilities like what you’ve just shown us then you would be on the U.S. top hundred charts...and you aren’t there, guy.”

There were some nods from the healers who’d drifted over to listen in on their conversation. Most of the recovery tent’s inhabitants just looked confused though.

Miracle Girl crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you on GHG or something?”

GHG was the acronym for Gifted Growth Hormone, a designer drug meant to temporarily increase a gifted’s abilities. The side effects of using it were horrendous though, and that’s why it had been classified as a class-A harmful substance by the Wardens who also had it on their drug ban list.

Sam frowned. “I don’t take anything illegal.”

This was technically not true. Although Wolf Woman didn’t seem inclined to tell anyone Sam had just lied. She even saved him from dodging more questions with a growl that Miracle Girl must have taken as her friend’s way of telling her to drop it.

“He helped us. That should be enough...for now,” Wolf-Woman insisted.

She turned her wolf-eyed gaze on Sam, and he saw the glint of understanding in them.

“Isn’t there somewhere you have to be?” she asked while nodding toward the dilapidated gates at the far side of the parking lot.

“Y-yeah...” Sam rose to his feet. “Thanks.”

“This one and I”—Wolf-Woman pointed a sharp-nailed finger at Miracle Girl—“will follow once we’re sure everyone else is okay.”

Miracle Girl was still frowning at Sam, but she didn’t refute her partner’s words, leaving Sam to imagine that they might make reliable future teammates…maybe.

“I’ll be counting on you then,” he said.

As he began to leave the tent, a group of previously injured heroes had gotten up to thank Sam for healing them, although they gave no assurances that they would be fighting at his side later on. Unlike Wolf-Woman and Miracle Girl, most of these heroes looked defeated already.

This thought of running away from the fight—one Sam knew all too well—also nagged at him as he made his way across the parking lot and through the unhinged gates of the Eisenhower campus. He didn’t listen though. Although, as he saw the scene beyond the gates, Sam wondered if he made the right choice after all.

“It’s like ‘Land of the Dead’ in here...”

What was once fresh-cut grass carpeting an entire campus was now a barren, fog-ridden field with patches of dead trees spread around the grounds. The two largest buildings—the museum and library, which faced each other at the other end of the campus—had become like tombs stained in black ash and rot. As for the president’s boyhood home and the statue that should have stood in the middle of this wide field—only their foundations remained.

It’s like a patch of the Underworld’s come crawling up to the surface, Chiron mused.

This, Sam thought, was an accurate description as actual will-o’-wisps were rising from the earth to float up into the air and illuminate the grounds in an eerie ghostly light.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

The sounds of explosions and gunfire reached Sam’s ears, causing his gaze to snap toward the entrance of the museum where he found the Argo VII parked in front of it while under heavy fire from the machine guns of the white-clad soldiers encircling the school bus.

It wasn’t just their armor and weapons that were dyed in shades of white though. Some of the enemies had lost their masks to reveal the alabaster skin and snow-white hair hidden underneath.

“Wow…that’s taking uniforms to whole new heights,” Sam commented.

Wise cracking’s my job, lame-brain, Chiron replied. Yours is getting your butt kicked by these stormtrooper wannabes.

“I don’t get my—”

Looks like Thunder is in a pinch.

Those words were enough to spur Sam onward. And, with the help of “Herculean!” he bounded across the dead earth with such speed that he arrived at Thunder’s position right as one of the albino soldiers reached for her back with the bowie knife in his hand.

“Hey, gang”—Sam drove his fist into the gut of the soldier threatening the woman of his dreams—“I see you’ve made new friends!”

Even before that first soldier was sent crashing into the stairs leading up to the museum, Sam had already moved to tackle the other white-clad assassin at Thunder’s back, giving her enough breathing room to zap the other two soldiers gunning for her with an arc of elemental energy that snapped across their bodies like a whip version of a lightsaber.

“Whoa, that’s”—Sam push-kicked his opponent into the path of Jackboot’s dropkick—“a cool new move… What do you call it?”

“Lash,” Thunder replied absentmindedly as she was busy wrapping her Lash around the soldiers’ necks. Once she’d finished wrapping them up, she glanced over at Sam and asked, “How was the sidequest?”

“Complicated,” Sam replied.

He’d hoped to catch his friends in St. Louis, but it had taken him too long to farm materials from the wendigo’s corpse, a task that Chiron was adamant Sam see to despite his reluctance to desecrate the dead.

“This doesn’t feel right…I got the kill shot but I didn’t beat it,” Sam had reminded Chiron.

Do you know how rare it is to bag a wendigo? Chiron had asked.

“Rarer than a centaur appearing in a city,” Sam had guessed.

Even rarer! Chiron had yelled. A Wendigo’s ice-cold heart is the primary ingredient to ‘warming balms’ strong enough to withstand even the heat of fire giants... This stuff’s worth a small fortune. We can’t pass this chance up, kid.

Sam had been clumsy with his carving knife though, and so it had taken him past sunset before he managed to climb back down the mountain and reunite with his motorbike. Then there was the thing with Apollo, a meeting that had ended with Sam waking up next to his bike on the shoulder of the highway.

Of course, it was a dream... Gods aren’t allowed to physically appear in the mortal world because their very presence wreaks havoc with the environment, Chiron had explained.

So, yes, there were several complications to share with his friends, but Sam would have to wait until after the fight to tell his story.

With his focus back on the battle, Sam began to notice how these Chimera agents didn’t even flinch from the arrows Farsight shot into the spaces between their armor joints. They barely slowed down even after Sam caved their masks in with his fists.

“It’s like we’re fighting zombies!” he complained.

“These soldiers have been genetically modified,” answered a deep-throated voice Sam hadn’t heard since that night in the Bronx. “The trick is to keep them off-balance long enough for Thunder to zap them into unconsciousness.”

The man who stepped into Sam’s field of view was a tall, buzz-cut, Samoan man with muscles so thick they were threatening to burst out of his all-black costume. On his chest was a symmetrically pleasing symbol of a burning hearth.

“Y-you’re Dr. Hearthstone!” Sam yelled excitedly.

“And you’re Sam Shepard,” Dr. Hearthstone grinned. “That healer who came to my rescue and then beat the Terror even Thunder couldn’t beat.”

Dr. Hearthstone placed his hands on his waist in that traditional superhero pose he was famous for. He kept the ‘Hearthstone Pose’ up even when Chimera’s agents began to surround him.

“So, you’re the ‘Herculean’ I’ve been reading about”—he sized Sam up with his eyes—“that name means you’re strong, doesn’t it?”

It was an invitation, Sam realized—prompting him to nod enthusiastically.

Together, they each sent their fists smashing into the ground, causing it to crack underneath the weight of their collective power. The earth rumbled beneath them and forced the remaining Chimera agents to lose their footing, which was all the distraction Thunder needed to incapacitate them with her Lash so that they dropped like flies at the heroes’ feet. But it was only after they’d tied the bad guys up with rope when Sam got a proper reunion with his friends.

“You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” Jackboot noted.

Sam glanced down at his gear which was caked in the dark ichor that came with farming a horror’s corpse. He probably smelled pretty badly too.

“Herculean always looks shabby,” Farsight chimed in. “It’s his trademark.”

“You’re still not funny, guys.” Despite their jibes, Sam happily gave them both high-fives. “So, what’s the situation?”

“These goons were left out here to keep us from following after the enemies who’d already entered the library.” Thunder bumped fists with Sam before eyeing him up and down. “You got stronger again, huh?”

Sam grinned. “Maybe a little.”

As for Thunder, she looked healthier than when he’d last seen her. Perhaps the trip home had done her some good, or maybe she was just happy to see him.

“Check this out.” Sam unclipped the horn from his belt and tossed it to Thunder. “It’s my mission reward.”

“This is…” Thunder brushed her fingers against the horn’s surface and felt the magic emanating from it. “...a summoning tool?”

Sam nodded. “I’ve only ever heard about them... Chiron tells me it’s a pretty rare reward.”

“Chiron?” Jackboot asked.

“Y-yeah…” Apprehension flashed across Sam’s face. “That was the, um, name of the author in this book I read about, um, spirit summoning...”

Neither Jackboot nor Farsight seemed completely convinced by Sam’s lie, but Thunder was quick to jump to his rescue and steer the conversation into less secretive matters.

“Let’s hope your new relic proves useful inside the maze...” She gave Sam back the horn before turning her gaze on the beta-level hero who now waited for them at the top step of the Eisenhower Museum’s entrance. “Are you coming with us, Dr. Hearthstone?”

Dr. Hearthstone placed his hands on his waist once again. A grin, wide and welcoming, appeared on his face. And somehow, the sight of this reliable hero willing to join them in their mission encouraged Sam more than any words of inspiration might have.

“All right”—Sam stepped forward—“let’s go ruin the villains’ evil plans.”