Waiting for a Miracle - Chapter 8

Wallace had spent his rage by kicking dents in the side of my vault, and after he changed clothes we returned to my spartan den. He sat brooding in my recliner while I took the couch.

Wallace wore my spare suit, as his clothes had been ruined. We sat drinking cognac and cola as we watched his clothing burn in a metal trash bin, the black smoke being drawn into a heavy duty air filter I’d set on my coffee table.

As he leaned forward to refill his glass, Wallace looked at me, his scowl changing from anger to sadness. “When Leona said she wouldn’t go back to San Francisco, it wasn’t over what Devastator did to her, was it?”

I shook my head, taking a long drink before I refilled my glass too. “You have to understand, he beat her like that every time he caught her over the course of two years.”

“That—” Wallace swallowed his angry comment and waved for me to go on.

“Until today, I never knew how frightened of him she was, but she…” I trailed off.

“I saw it,” Wallace confirmed. “She was moving so slow that anyone else would have thought she was a normal human.”

“Devastator stole her life, and then the Rocket stole her confidence,” I said. “When I heard her telling her story to a bartender, I thought she just needed a true friend to get her life back on track.”

“No, she needs professional help from someone like me.”

“Yeah,” I said. A guilty lump rose in my throat, and I tried to make it go away with a long drink. The alcohol made my limbs tingle, but the guilt remained behind, strong as ever. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more rotten in my entire life.”

“Why?”

“I sent her out there to—”

“Duggan, stop,” Wallace cut me off, shaking his head. “You did what you hoped could save me. You were trying to do the right thing for me.”

“And in the process, I asked my only friend to take a—” A sob caught in my chest, but I fought against it. “I watched her get beaten, but you saved her. Not me.” The sob won and rushed up my throat, choking me. “She’s my only friend, but I wouldn’t save her.”

This confession brought to mind Leona’s wounded expression after I’d slapped her. I felt bad enough knowing what I’d asked her to endure. But I’d hit her, and even if I didn’t hit her hard, even if my intentions had been to help, it didn’t ease the gnawing ache made by my guilt.

I cried for Leona, closing my eyes even though it made the mental image of Leona’s sad expression more intense.

Wallace sat quietly, watching me cry as he nursed his drink. I guess he knew that nothing he could say would take away my guilt, and maybe at that point he also knew that I needed to suffer it for my own sake.

Finally, he cleared his throat, looking at me. “Devastator is the cause for Leona’s belief that she is worthless, but it was the Rocket’s abuse of her that drove the final nail into her self-esteem. We cannot kill the Rocket for her, as it would only reinforce her opinion that she must depend on others.”

“What are you suggesting? That we push her into a fight with the Rocket?” Furious, I shook my head. “She can’t face him if she thinks she’s still crippled, Wallace. You know I built the collar to try and get her balance back.”

Wallace held up his hands. “Duggan, her lack of balance is psychological more than physical. Nothing short of her growing a new tail would ever give her back her old speeds and sense of balance. If you design anything for her, then try a cybernetic tail. Without it, she will always believe she is a cripple, and this ‘hero’ will always have a power over her.”

He heaped disdain on the word hero, and his mouth became a thin line. I could tell that he was fighting against the return of his temper.

He stared at his drink, swirling the ice cubes for a while. “If she were his wife, they would call it abuse. But if I hadn’t been there, the cops would have been congratulating the Rocket for a job well done as they hauled Leona away.”

“They still hauled her away,” I said in a sour voice. Reminded of this intolerable situation, I got up to fetch a wireless phone from the faux bookshelf. “He’s probably home by now,” I said. I hit a speed dial button as I dropped back onto the couch.

Wallace asked, “Who is?”

I put a finger to my lips as the phone on the other end picked up after one ring.

“Hello?” a thin sounding voice asked hesitantly.

“It’s me,” I said. “Release Leona now.”

“We’re not holding her,” the voice informed me.

“Then what happened to her?” I asked. A trace of agitation had crept into my voice.

“Calm down, Masters. First let me tell you what happened to the Rocket. Then I’ll tell you where she is, okay?”

“Fine,” I said. “Did they arrest the Rocket?”

“They had to. He’s guilty of aggravated manslaughter and escaping a federal penitentiary in San Francisco.”

“What? Then why hadn’t we heard anything about it here?” I asked.

“We? Masters, you should turn on your TV every once in a while. The Rocket’s incarceration was big news.”

“I usually make the news, not watch it,” I said.

“Whatever,” said the thin voice. He punctuated his statement with an annoyed huff.

To break the ensuing awkward silence, I asked, “What happened to the Rocket after he got arrested?”

“The new hero’s testimony to the police on the scene was enough to convince them that he was in need of a big serving of humble pie.”

“Yeah?” I asked, feeling a little better. “How much pie?”

“First, they dropped him. Accidentally, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed, smiling at Wallace’s confused look.

“Down a flight of stairs,” the voice added, bursting into laughter.

I joined him, and yes, damn it, it was evil laughter.

Once I could get my breathing under control, I asked, “Where is he now?”

“He’s in a cell, serving a six month sentence for aggravated assault and battery. After that, we agreed to turn him back over to serve his original sentence. They took out his muffler and had him fitted with a large butt plug.”

“Describe it,” I requested, blushing just a bit.

“It? Well it’s seven-foot-two. It weighs in at four hundred pounds and goes by the name Big Bubba Love.”

I chortled with delight to voice my approval. “That’s just so...poetic.”

“I’m afraid that now I have to give you the bad news.”

“Damn,” I said. “What is it?”

“Leona had to be taken to the hospital and put in ICU. She lost a lot of blood and she’s got some internal injuries.” The voice paused, reluctant to deliver all the bad news. “With her skin being so dense, the staff can’t do anything for her but try to make her more comfortable.”

“She doesn’t spend one day in jail,” I stated firmly.

“For what crime?” the voice asked. “We have evidence against you for the massacre at City City Hall, but the video broadcast never shows your accomplices. It was clearly your bomb that went off and destroyed the building, along with any other evidence that might have linked her to the crime. At least, I assumed it was your bomb. It was, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, thinking of my cigarette bomb. “At least that went right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It isn’t important,” I said. “Where is she now?”

“She’s at Miracle Mercy.”

“I hope it’s a long time before we have a talk like this again,” I said.

“Me too,” the voice agreed before hanging up.

I set the phone down on the arm of the couch, looking at Wallace with an agitated frown. “Leona isn’t in jail. She’s at Miracle Mercy hospital, in the ICU section.” I smiled faintly, still pleased by the news of the Rocket’s arrest. “The Rocket has been put in a rough position, so to speak, and he’s going to be gone for a while, thanks to you.”

Wallace pointed at the phone. “So who was that?”

“Oh, that was the DA,” I replied.

Wallace’s eyes bulged with shock. “The district attorney.”

I shrugged. “Leona did say I got her an expensive lawyer.”

“I guess so,” Wallace muttered, looking at me curiously as I stood up and went to the door. “Where are you going?”

“To the hospital,” I said. “I’m going to get Leona back here, where I can use my laboratory to heal her faster than the doctors.”

Wallace shook his head. “Let me do it. The police believe I’m a hero, so they won’t try to fight with me.”

“Duh?” I said. Scowling at my shrink, I held out my mask to emphasize my next point. “Wallace, I can phase into her room and be gone without the police ever knowing I was there. Besides, you don’t want to ruin your new image as a hero by breaking a critically wounded criminal out of the hospital, do you?”

“You have a point,” Wallace conceded.

“I know I do,” I said. Calming down, I lowered my voice. “I have a request, if you’re willing to try it.”

Wallace nodded before he knew what I wanted. “What is it?”

“I want you to go out tonight and be our hero,” I said.

Wallace shook his head. “I can’t. I have to be home soon.”

“Home? Wallace, you saved Leona from a rogue hero. I saw the look in your eyes when you were yelling at the Rocket, and I’m certain you have what it takes to be a real hero. Certainly you have the conscience and morals that Leona and I lack. You know that you want to do this to make up for the people you killed today.”

It was a low blow, yes. But I’m the villain. If I can’t be allowed to take a cheap shot in an argument, then there really is no justice in the world.

Wallace reacted much like I expected him to. Anger flashed in his eyes, but it had no chance to take root before guilt overwhelmed him. He sounded sick as he said, “Oh, Duggan...”

“It was your plan, Wallace. You knew that, and now you know you have to do something to redeem yourself.” Wallace nodded. I said, “So you should patrol City and be our hero, at least until I can figure out how to get Miracle Man out of hiding.”

I stared at Wallace while he debated with himself. It felt like an eternity to me, and my stomach was turning somersaults in my throat while I waited.

“I don’t know,” Wallace said.

“Look, grab another collar and try it tonight,” I offered in what I hoped was a convincing tone of voice. “Later on, I could help you out.”

“You already have by giving me powers,” Wallace said.

I waved my hand. “No, I mean I could stage fake plots once a week, plots that you are meant to win for the benefit of the people in this city. You could patrol around and stop the real criminals, and then whatever crimes that I committed would be harmless acts meant to build up your stature. I’ll mutter, ‘Curses, foiled again,’ and our city will have a hero.”

“Why do you need one?” Wallace asked.

“To keep scum like the Rocket out of our city,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

Wallace took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He nodded a moment later before looking back at me. “All right Duggan, you’ve got yourself a temporary hero.”