Flying over the OHSU campus, Afterimage could see a band of blue fire licking out from a row of windows about halfway up the central hospital. The tendrils crawled up the walls and reached out, probing its surroundings like a tentacled Lovecraftian horror. Seeing no obvious way to the source without passing through flames, he flew toward the emergency room entrance, fully expecting to stumble upon a scene out of an old b-horror movie with people running and screaming in panic as the flaming monster lurched over the building to squash hapless victims below.
That was not what he found. The air was muted and still. Voices sounded muffled and people wandered out of the building aimlessly, stopping to look up at the flames with exhausted curiosity rather than fear. The flames cast everything around the hospital in dark blue shadows. A handful of doctors and nurses escorted patients on gurneys to waiting ambulances, but there was no mass exodus as expected. While people stepped aside to give him space, no one appeared overly interested in his arrival. Few bothered to look when Pressure landed beside him.
“Freaky,” she said, looking around her. “Can you feel that? The air feels wrong.”
Afterimage did. His glow had subtly dimmed, taking more effort than usual to maintain. Though the flames were several stories above and generated no heat, he could feel a pull as if they were sucking away the air, making it difficult to breathe.
“And what’s up with the people?” Pressure added, sounding concerned. “Hey,” she called to a passing doctor pushing a gurney. “What’s going on?”
“Powers out,” he answered, stating the obvious. “We’re moving the critical patients to other hospitals.”
“And the fire? Anyone hurt up there?”
“Don’t know,” he said, brows furrowing in thought. “None of the fire alarms have gone off, and the phones are out. Can’t call for emergency services.” The man sounded exhausted, like it was taking an immense effort to think straight.
Of course, Afterimage thought. The fire generated no heat to set off alarms, and it was sapping energy from everything around it, machines and people. The police and fire department weren’t coming. They were on their own.
“Thanks,” she told to the doctor, releasing him back to his patient. She turned to Afterimage.
“Did you see that? How tired he seems? The fire is affecting everyone. I feel it too, but it doesn’t seem as bad. I wonder why?”
Maybe it’s our powers, Afterimage thought, but he couldn’t say anything. She didn’t expect a response either.
“I guess we go inside,” she continued. She looked up at the flames coming out of windows above. The light of the fire twinkled in her mirrored goggles like stars.
Afterimage’s glow illuminated the waiting room, revealing a security guard going through the motions of waving a flashlight to direct traffic toward the ambulances. Its beam was muted and dim like everything else, making it difficult to see.
Pressure took the initiative to approach the guard. “We need to get to whatever is causing this. Any idea what floor we need?”
The security guard stared at the two heroes for a few moments before responding. “It’s up on the fifteenth floor. That’s where doctors are saying it started. But I gotta tell you, I’ve been told the entire floor is on fire.”
“Where are the stairs?” she asked.
The guard pointed the way. The building was on the side of a hill, with the emergency entrance and main lobby on the ninth floor. It was only a few floors up from where they were.
Pressure turned to Afterimage. “I guess we take the stairs. Ready to do this?” she knew he couldn’t answer so she didn’t wait for a response. She headed determinedly to the stairwell door.
It was dark inside the stairwell, the only light a distant blue shimmer filtering down from above. Afterimage took the lead, his glow lighting the path upward.
Pressure was lagging behind, so he stopped after a couple floors. She had paused on the landing below him, rubbing her hips. She looked up at him in frustration.
“Dammit,” she said uncomfortably. “Sorry, but using the stairs is hurting me. I could use my power to go up, but I might not have anything left for a fight. I swear the air is trying to suck it all away.” She shook her head angrily. “Catch-22. But you seem to be ok. How are you keeping it up?”
She waved away the question almost immediately. “Never mind. I just like complaining.”
Afterimage hated his silence. It was a good question. He had told her the answer once, but she needed to hear it again. He dropped his power, plunging the stairwell into shadow. “Two years.”
“What?” she asked. All he could see of her were her glasses reflecting the dim flickering light. They glittered as she squatted to squeeze inflammation from her knees. Every time she looked up at him, he was reminded of a wide-eyed doe startled by the headlights of an oncoming car.
“That’s how I do it. I’ve had my power for two years. The more I use my powers the worse my condition becomes. The worse my condition the easier my powers are to use and the longer they last. Yours will get stronger too. Give it time.”
“You mentioned that before,” she said as she kneaded her joints to ease their discomfort.
“I think that’s why we’re less affected by the flames. We have more energy to give than everyone else. More pain.”
She paused to look up the steps at him, brows wrinkling in frustration. “More pain. That’s not something to look forward to. Why do you always make it sound like having powers is a curse?”
“Because it is. That’s the price we pay to do what we do.”
“Then why keep doing it? Why be a hero? If you stop using your powers, it’ll stop getting worse. Maybe it’ll even get better again. Then you could forget the whole hero thing ever happened.”
The echoes of her voice up the stairwell grated his ears. He took a deep breath against the discomfort. “George Mathers had been killing people like us for years before you caught him. Only a few here and there, always using others to do his dirty work so nobody made the connection. He killed my mother while trying to kill me. She was in the way just like your brother was. I can’t let that happen to anyone else. Nobody deserves losing the people they love.”
A tear ran down his cheek, stinging his skin. He let it run. Wiping it away would hurt him more.
“That’s why you gave me an orchid? Because I almost lost my brother? You feel obligated to protect me now?”
Afterimage nodded.
She looked down at her knees, her forehead above her goggles creasing in thought. "That’s a terrible reason to be a superhero.”
Startled, Afterimage glowered at her.
“It sucks to lose someone you love,” she explained, “but whether you’re there or not, people die. It’s part of being human. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop it all. Nobody can. If you’re spending your entire life trying to save everyone, you’ll fail. No, you’ve already failed. It can’t be done.”
“I can still try,” Afterimage stated flatly.
“Then you’re an idiot,” she blurted angrily. “I lost my parents in a car accident. Where were you then? And what about all the other people in car accidents? Why aren’t you leaving all of them orchids? And yes, I know they didn’t die from a crime. But dead is dead. There was nothing I could do to save my parents. I miss them, but I’m not going to beat myself up about it. Shit happens. You need to give yourself a break and find a real reason to be a hero. Stop trying to save everyone else and find a reason that means something to you.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
He shrugged “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to be better and do better. I’m done being afraid of my disease, and this is the best way to punch it in the face.” Taking a breath, she forced herself to stand straight and marched up the stairs to him. Stopping one step below him, she craned her neck to look up at him. "Sounds like you might want to give that a try.”
Stepping past him, she paused to look up the stairwell. "Screw it," she mumbled. The pressure in the stairwell rose as she called on her power. Afterimage had to hold onto the railing to keep from being pushed down the stairs by it. She leapt upward, using the power to assist her steps. She quickly ran upward, leaving him behind.
He looked after her in the gloom, feeling the sting of the cold metal railing against his hand. Letting go, he looked at his hand and realized she was right. He was holding on to the pain of what happened to his mother and added to it every time he put another name on his list. He needed to let go. But he had no idea what that would mean for him.
Unfortunately, now was not the time to think about it. Activating his own power, he followed her, catching up just as she reached the next landing.
She had stopped there, looking up at the blue fire that filled the stairwell above. It blocked the way, fluttering above their heads like an upside-down pool of water.
“That’ll take away our powers entirely, right? Then how are we going to get up there?” Pressure wondered aloud.
The door beside her was marked 13th Floor, Inpatient Oncology. Afterimage stepped up beside her and reached out to touch it, feeling the vibrations through the door to figure out what was on the other side.
There were four people beyond, two standing and two on the ground against a far wall. One heart rate was dangerously slow, but the others were strong and steady. Odors filtered around the door’s edges as well, bringing to his senses the noxious smell of chemicals, packed gunpowder, bad cologne, and disinfectant. All the cues let him know that two of the people beyond were familiar to him. One brought a feeling of dread to Afterimage, but the other gave a sense of comfort, balancing the bad with the good. Together they let him know things were alright. Swallowing his discomfort, he knocked twice and then opened the door.
On seeing Afterimage’s light, Detective Gene Collins lowered his gun to aim it at the floor. He breathed out in relief and wiped at the sweat beading his brow as if it had taken everything he had to keep the gun raised. He leaned against the hallway wall for support.
“Damned Powers,” he blurted like it was a curse. “Should have figured you’d show up. Can’t believe I’m glad to see you here.”
Afterimage could only describe his relationship with Detective Collins as love and hate. After two years of run-ins, Collins had become a reluctant supporter of powered heroes. He saw Afterimage as an illegal vigilante but couldn’t deny the usefulness of having someone like him around. He made it a point, however, to complain about Afterimage’s existence whenever possible.
“Detective,” Pressure said in greeting as she walked through the doorway to stand beside Afterimage. On seeing the detective, Afterimage could feel her heart rate jump, but outwardly she showed no change in her demeanor.
“Great, two of you. Pressure, right? I’ve seen you on TV.” He squinted his eyes when he looked at her as if trying to recall a memory. “Have we met before?”
“You have got to be kidding me,” complained George Mathers, former villain and cancer patient. He stood behind the detective, one hand on an IV pole to support himself. He was tethered to it by a set of handcuffs as well as IV lines that ran medication from two fluid filled bags down to a catheter in his wrist. Afterimage could feel the smell of the chemicals in his gut, making his stomach roil in protest.
“You,” Pressure responded to Mathers, her tone venomous.
The detective looked at them both in turn, then smiled broadly. “Of course, she brought you in.” He reached out a hand to Pressure in greeting. “I guess I have you to thank for my being saddled with this a-hole.”
Pressure wasn’t bothered by the backhanded compliment. She took the detective’s hand without hesitation. Afterimage could feel her pulse rate relax, having been saved from recognition by her nemesis. “It was my pleasure, believe me,” she told the detective. “What’s he doing here?”
“I’m dying, no thanks to you.” Mathers spat.
“Shut it, Mathers, or I’ll shut it for you,” the detective threatened. “He’s here for his weekly chemo,” he said to Pressure. “I’m here to watch his ugly ass.”
Afterimage had kept an eye on Mathers following his capture. His cancer had been nearly undetectable, making him powerless. Now, though, Afterimage could smell the sickness in him like a gangrenous wound. Did that mean his powers were back as well? If so, why he hadn’t escaped yet was anyone’s guess.
“But he’s not the one causing trouble,” the detective continued. “That would be the guy you two put in here yesterday. You’ll have to ask Detective Armstrong here about him. Armstrong just came down the stairs with that nurse, so he’ll know more.”
Collins pointed to a man who was sitting against the wall behind him. The nurse was cradled gently in his arms, his ample belly providing a soft pillow for her head. Armstrong was awake but looked exhausted with dark rings under his eyes. The nurse’s breathing was shallow and slow, her body quivering despite the hospital blanket wrapped around her.
“Hey there,” Armstrong said, his voice labored. “Sorry if I don’t get up, but Heidi and I got caught up in the fire. Stuff didn’t burn but it felt like it was sucking the life out of me. We were both nearby when the guy blew. She was in the room with him. I managed to drag her out and get her down here.”
“What do you mean he blew?” asked Pressure curiously.
“The guy, Willard Granger, had been unconscious since you blasted him and his friend out of the restaurant.”
“Sorry about that,” Pressure piped in, shaken by the news. “I didn’t mean to injure anyone.”
The detective dismissed her concerns. “Hey, don’t worry about it. He had it coming for threatening kids. His comrade in crime got sent back to the jail this morning, but this guy was still out cold and under observation. I was in the hall but Heidi was in the room with him when it happened. I heard her yell and then this blue fire spilled out into the hallway. I saw her collapse, so I went in to get her. It was like swimming through molasses. Took everything in me to get her out and into the stairwell. I knew Collins was down here, so here I am.”
“Boy, you just cause damage wherever you go, don’t you?” Mathers accused Pressure mockingly.
Collins turned angrily at his charge. “I told you to shut the hell up! Zip it or I take you back to your room and handcuff you to the bed and leave you there. I won’t shed any tears if the place burns down around you. Got me?”
“Yes, sir!” snapped Mathers, saluting. The grin on his face refused to leave, however, making Afterimage shiver beneath the glow of his skin. Unlike the two detectives and nurse, Mathers’s face was alert and watchful, unaffected by the blue fire raging just a floor above. He may not be able to use his powers, but it was obviously protecting him from what was happening.
Pressure glared at Mathers as well but said nothing. Turning back to Armstrong, she asked “Is she ok?”
The detective shrugged. “Heart’s still beating, but she won’t wake up. We need to get her to a doctor.”
“We were just about to head downstairs when you two showed up,” added Collins.
“Then go,” commanded Pressure. “We’ll see what we can do up here to stop this. What room is he in?” She opened the stairwell door for them.
“Room 1512,” said Armstrong.
“Ok, asshole,” growled Collins to Mathers. “You help Armstrong, I’ll take the nurse.”
“What about my chemo? You expect me to carry the pole too?”
“Yes, I do. Use it as a walking stick if you have to.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, at least take off the cuffs. There’s no way I can carry him and make it down the stairs like this.”
“Dammit,” Collins grumbled, not finding a way around the logic. He retrieved the keys to the cuffs from his pocket and unlocked the cuff attached to the pole, leaving the other end dangling from Mathers’s wrist. “There. Now do what you’re told, and if I see you try to run, I will not hesitate to shoot you in the ass.”
“Yes, sir,” Mathers said again smugly. He turned to the IV bags, clipped some tabs on the lines to shut them off, and like a seasoned professional unhooked them from the catheter in his wrist. A few drops of fluid dripped onto the floor at his feet. Mathers looked forlorn at seeing the waste. “Guess we’ll be coming back soon.”
“Great. Looking forward to it. Now move.” Collins picked up the nurse while Mathers bent down to help Armstrong to his feet. They all shuffled out the door, making their way down the stairs.
Pressure stepped out into the stairwell behind them and watched them descend from the landing. Afterimage waited with her until the group were all out of sight below.
Once they were out of earshot, Pressure whispered to Afterimage. “Collins is one of the detectives who took my statement when my brother was shot.”
That explained her apprehension. Realizing that there was no one else around to see them and no power for security cameras, Afterimage turned off his powers. He put a hand on her shoulder in reassurance, ignoring the rough feel of her outfit beneath his fingertips. “He did not recognize you.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“His heart rate didn’t increase and there was no iris dilation. Both usually happen when people recognize each other.”
“Wow,” she said. “You can get all that? Handy power.”
She glanced briefly at the hand on her shoulder. He pulled his hand away self-consciously, feeling embarrassed.
Pressure smiled. She pulled her goggles down around her neck so he could see her face clearly. “Thank you.”
At that moment they were no longer the heroes Afterimage and Pressure. They were just Thomas Conway and Audrey Preston, two people caught in unusual circumstances, trying to do the right thing.
Feeling awkward, he pointed at the flames above them. “You intend to go up and walk through that?”
“What did you feel when he touched you last night? Besides taking away your powers, that is.”
“It took away my pain as well. I felt fine.”
“Then having powers might protect us.”
That reminded Afterimage of something he always wanted to ask. “Did your powers protect you from George Mathers?”
“Kinda. His power gives people the pain of his cancer so he didn’t have to feel it himself. I was able to use that pain to feed my own power and drain it away. It nearly cured him of his cancer too. But I guess that was just temporary.”
“The rebound. It came back stronger than before.”
“Yes, I think so. It probably metastasized.”
“That should make him more powerful. So why hasn’t he escaped?”
“Maybe I changed it. Maybe the rebound caused too much damage. But that doesn’t help us now.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He looked up at the flames again. “If we go in there, we won’t have our powers to help us.”
“Like I said, I intend to do better, powers or no powers. Something needs to be done, and we’re the only ones standing here. You coming with me?”
He nodded reluctantly. Appeased, Pressure surrounded them both with her bubble shield. “Better safe than sorry.” Then together they walked up the steps and into the flames.