Virus Attack (5 page)

A shriek in the forest snapped Basilisk from his ruminations. It was probably an owl. He looked across at the rogue he had recruited, who was leaning against a tree. Like him, she was a Prime—somebody who had the latent superpowers from birth, waiting for the chance to burst to life, usually in times of stress, or the old favorite: an industrial accident.

In her mid-twenties, she was tall and lithe with a tight white cowl over her head, her eyes visible through narrow slits. She pulled a stick of gum from the recesses of a cape that hung across her shoulders; no doubt keeping her warm, thought Basilisk as he shivered. When the woman moved, the cape seemed to possess a life of its own as it moved unnaturally, fluttering impossibly large behind her.

She was somebody Basilisk had known about for a couple of years, and it had only taken him a day to track her down and recruit her to their project. She was inspired partly by the cash Basilisk had promised, but more by the prospects of escaping from under the Council of Evil's yoke. Their constant meddling had made life a lot less fun for the younger villains.

She and Basilisk had been in the woods for several hours, waiting for Worm to meet them. She hadn't uttered a single word and had scowled at the nature
around her. She was a city girl. As the first drops of rain began to fall she finally opened her mouth, to complain about standing in the damp forest.

The art of conversation is truly dead
, thought Basilisk, and he decided to respond with silence.

After a minute Basilisk felt the faintest of vibrations through his feet. They grew stronger by the second. Loose stones and rotting branches suddenly started to dance from the clearing as the earth trembled. Then a bronze machine rose from the ground at an angle. About the size of a bus, it also had gnashing blades that consumed dirt, branches, and foliage.

Basilisk watched as the sleek vehicle pulled itself from the dirt on hundreds of articulated spikes mounted across the fuselage, designed to pull the machine through the earth. The front was nothing more than a gaping hole with circular teeth that chewed the soil, carried it through a tube that ran the length of the craft, and deposited it at the rear. It was a simple system that allowed the machine to move underground without leaving a tunnel or even a trace it had passed by. Two large green glass windows at the front made it resemble a bug, and the fins on the side were a stylistic remnant of the 1930s, when the machine was built.

A portal hissed open and Worm stepped out with a grin. “My old ship! The
Nematode
. She still works, after all these years!”

Basilisk poked and prodded it like a professional mechanic. “I've only seen photos of this thing. I could have used this a few weeks ago.”

The woman scrutinized the machine doubtfully. “It belongs in a museum … or a junkyard.”

Worm returned the skeptical look. “Ah, I assume you must be the cat burglar?”

“They call me Trojan,” replied the woman in a gentle Southern accent and with a humorless smile. “And I prefer
‘escape artiste.'
I heard about you too, Grandpa. Thought you were dead?”

“A thief's a thief,” snapped Worm pompously. “And in my day, women had a more civil tone of voice when they spoke to their elders and superiors.”

“Times change, Gramps. This is
my
day now.” She walked the length of the ship, examining it with a critical eye.

Worm refrained from snapping a retort. Instead he turned back to Basilisk. “And you believe this
riffraff
can aid our ambitious plan?”

“Indeed she can,” said Basilisk. “Her skills are second to none. But we need one more.”

“And you?” asked Worm, casting a shrewd eye on Basilisk. “This plan of yours is all that's preventing me from handing you over to the Council and claiming the bounty. I fail to see your contribution.”

Basilisk's eyes flared neon blue, and even though
Worm could not see under the dark hood, he knew the villain was grinning.

“Me? I'm the mastermind. Without me there would be no plan. And at the very least, I'm the one who is protecting you from being torn apart by Trojan. She's a lot stronger than she looks, and I don't think you two got off to a very good start.”

Worm flicked a worried glance at Trojan. Although she was thin, he couldn't shake the fact that she could indeed kill him if provoked.
How times have changed
, thought Worm. There was a time when other villains feared
him
.

Basilisk rapped a hand against the bronze hull. “Your ship is archaic. Perhaps we need something more … modern?”

Worm looked surprised. “The
Nematode
is state-of-the-art…. Well, it used to be.”

Basilisk waved to Trojan. “Let's go. This bucket of bolts will get us to our next step at least.”

“Where are we going?” asked Worm, who was starting to feel Basilisk had a little too much authority for a prisoner on reprieve.

“To hell,” Basilisk said with a chuckle.

School had improved noticeably over the last couple of weeks, Pete thought. Even when he hadn't downloaded
superpowers, he was feeling much more confident. That could also be attributed to the fact that Jake Hunter and his gang of thugs hadn't been at school for a while.

But today saw the return of Big Tony and Knuckles, who were walking to school deep in conversation, although Pete couldn't imagine any conversation between the two of them lasting for long, or not containing profanities instead of the more normal adjectives.

Pete trailed behind them, knowing that overtaking them would risk him becoming a target. After a few minutes it was obvious something was amiss as the two bullies were keeping unusually low profiles, as though not wanting to attract attention.

When a kid in a year below Pete, who was another firm bullying favorite, stepped from a side street and straight into the thugs' path, they didn't bat an eyelid. The kid ran away as quickly as possible, unscathed.

It was then that Pete registered that the other two members of their single-digit IQ posse were missing: Scuffer and the leader of the herd, Jake Hunter. Pete smiled; that could only be a good thing.

Pete had an increasingly irritating day. Aside from the mounting homework for them to do over the next two days' “vacation,” he couldn't find Toby, Emily, or Lorna at break. A paranoid thought suggested that they were all enjoying Hero.com together. He ignored it. He trusted Emily and Lorna more than Toby. He was
certain they wouldn't cheat behind his back. Then again he did feel a tremor of jealousy that Emily and Toby seemed a little closer than usual. Or was that just another twinge of paranoia?

Feeling confused and alone, he headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom. He was there when the bell rang and he had to sprint to his English class. The school yard was empty by the time Pete ran across it—and into the path of Knuckles and Big Tony quickly leaving the science wing.

Knuckles stared at him with a scowl. “Watch what ya doin', Professor. You wanna broken arm?”

Pete's mouth was dry. He'd faced armed thieves, smugglers, and a weather-controlling supervillain. But without the comfort of his superpowers he suddenly felt vulnerable.

Big Tony pulled on his companion's sleeve. “Knock it off, Knucks. We've got a … er … class … remember?” He jerked a thumb across the yard.

To Pete's amazement Knuckles backed off and they hurried across the yard without another glance. From bitter experience Pete knew he should at least have gotten a numbing punch in the arm.

Mr. Rush gave Pete a stern glance when he ran into the classroom.

“Ah, Peter Kendall. Good of you to take time from your busy schedule to join us.”

Snickers of laughter rippled across the room.

“Sorry, sir. I was—”

“Out saving the world, I would imagine. Now sit down, we have a lot to get through today. I've teamed you up in pairs. You're with Miss Forshaw.”

Pete glanced at Toby, who had been paired with a cute Asian girl. Pete reluctantly moved to his seat next to a girl who was almost twice his size and scared him almost as much as Knuckles did.

The lesson crawled along as Mr. Rush extolled the virtues of the book they were being forced to read. Pete had been told it was a classic, but he couldn't see why. Nothing happened and all and the characters spoke in an old-fashioned way. But he dutifully took notes as the teacher tried to explain
why
the story was so important.

A slight noise made Pete glance up and he saw Toby had knocked his pen off the desk. Either that or the pen had tried to commit suicide out of boredom. Toby reached down, and his arm extended by half its length so that he could comfortably pick up the pen. His arm looked as though it was made from rubber.

Pete watched, stunned. Toby stared at his arm, which had now shrunk back to normal. He quickly looked around the room to check that nobody had seen that display of inhuman power. No one paid him any attention. When he noticed Pete staring dumbly at him it
seemed, to Pete at least, he
tried
to act surprised and mouthed the word, “Wow!”

Pete felt crushed. His suspicions had been confirmed: Toby had been downloading superpowers without the rest of them knowing. Toby and Lorna fought for days when she had suggested that they should let the world know about their abilities and cash in on the fame. Pete had sided with her; fame certainly meant money. And right now his family was penniless. But Toby had taken the moral high ground, telling them all to act responsibly.

The traitor!

Pete didn't listen for the rest of the class. His mind was elsewhere as he stared at the words in the book. He thought about how he was going to confront Toby. He felt sick from the betrayal.

Pete shot up a hand. “Sir—I feel sick!”

He didn't wait for permission, but ran from the classroom holding his stomach.

The corridors were mercifully empty as Pete ran down them. The queasy feeling in his stomach had ebbed the moment he left class. He exited the block and walked out into the teachers' parking lot, where he leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

Why would Toby lie?

A sudden thump startled him as the door he'd come through was kicked open and hit the wall with force. Knuckles and Big Tony sprinted out wearing frightened expressions. They froze when they caught sight of Pete and looked wildly around before accepting that he wasn't a threat. Then their panic changed to a predatory gaze.

A quick glance around the empty parking lot confirmed that Pete was trapped and alone. Big Tony nervously glanced back the way they had come.

“Coast's clear,” he said.

Knuckles composed himself. Deliberately stretched his neck from one side to the other with a horrible crack, and then popped the knuckles on both his fists.

“How's it going, Prof?” he said, advancing a step. “Shouldn't you be in class, like a good brainiac?”

Pete's eyes darted side to side as he looked for an exit. He felt the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Shouldn't you both be back in remedial class?”

“What?” screamed Knuckles, his skin flushing like a beet. “You little nerd! I'm going to smash your face in for that!”

Pete saw the fist being clenched and raised toward him. He closed his eyes in anticipation and waited for it to connect. It seemed like an age had passed and yet he still felt nothing. He opened his eyes, wondering if something had scared Knuckles away—but no, in
reality only a second had passed and he saw a close-up of Knuckles's fist connecting with his nose.

The pain was unbearable. Multicolored lights flashed before Pete's eyes. He fell to the ground with the peculiar salty smell of his own blood oozing from his nose. His cheap glasses spun off and landed a few feet away.

Knuckles laughed loudly as he stared down at Pete, who had one hand across his nose, the other patting the ground to retrieve his glasses.

Big Tony gave his friend a high five. “Nice one.”

Knuckles felt elated. Professor had gone down without a fight, which is
exactly
how he wanted it. The quicker they fell, the harder he looked. But his smile slowly drifted, his mouth sagging open.

Pete's nose shifted under its own volition and they all heard a loud snap as the cartilage realigned itself. The swelling around his face deflated like a burst balloon, and the bleeding stopped in an instant.

Pete shoved his glasses back on and felt his strength return in a huge wave that coursed through his body. He sprang to his feet, suddenly full of energy and feeling
very
angry.

“That's the last time you hit me!” he roared.

Without thinking, he balled up his tiny fist and threw a punch at Knuckles's stomach. In an ordinary fight he would have missed the bully, or if he'd been
fortunate enough to connect, the punch would have felt like a tap.

But this wasn't an ordinary fight.

Pete saw his hand expand to double its normal size, and it shimmered with a faint blue aura. When it connected with Knuckles, the bully felt as if a bomb had detonated in his stomach.

The breath was expelled from him and he heard a couple of ribs crack. The punch was so strong that Knuckles was lifted clean off his feet and propelled more than thirty feet across the parking lot. He bounced off a MINI Cooper, crumpling the hood, ricocheted off a Ford, denting the roof and shattering the windows, before finally slamming to a halt against the side of a Honda, smashing in the entire door panel as though it had been struck by another car. A cacophony of car alarms sounded, and the Honda's airbag abruptly expanded.

Knuckles let out a long groan, indicating he was still alive. Pete swiveled around to face Big Tony, who was as white as a sheet.

“You're one of
them
! You're a
freak
! Get away from me!”

Big Tony tripped over his own feet as he fled, distancing himself from Pete and not at all concerned about his friend's condition. Pete stared at his hand, which was still double its size; veins throbbed under
the bluish skin. He shook it, the action returning his limb to normal.