Joshua Dread

O
ur class got out of sixth period early the day my parents tried to flood the earth. Weather forecasts predicted massive hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms, typhoons, monsoons, mud slides, and heavy winds.

“We are asking all students to make an orderly exit,” Principal Sloane’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Please do not run, push, or form an angry mob on your way out. Buses are waiting outside.”

My parents never actually came out and
told
me they were planning on flooding the world. But they’d dropped
plenty of hints over the previous few weeks. Dad had spent every spare minute in the backyard tinkering with his new Weather Alterator machine. And that morning, Mom gave me a sly wink as I was leaving for school. “You might want to take an umbrella with you,” she said, smiling as if she knew something I didn’t.

Stepping into the hallway now, I joined the mass of other students. I listened to the rain and wind beating against the walls outside, the sound of hundreds of feet moving across the floor inside.

Everyone seemed pretty calm, considering the world was about to end.

The weather was chaotic. Wind lashed in every direction. Massive gray clouds swirled violently overhead. Bolts of lightning flashed across the sky. It looked like it was raining and snowing at the same time.

“Weird weather, huh?”

I turned and saw my best friend, Milton, standing behind me. Well, technically, he was my
only
friend. I’d known him for two years, ever since my parents and I had moved onto his street. Milton was tall and gangly, with arms and legs like sticks that had been loosely tied together. His sandy blond hair always poked up in the back.

“Did you hear what the weather forecast said this morning?” Milton asked.

“Yeah.” I looked up at the churning clouds. “They’re predicting that the storms will destroy civilization as we know it.”

“And it’s perfect timing too! Mrs. Lange was about to give us a quiz when class got dismissed.”

We both stopped talking when a bone-rattling crash of thunder echoed across the landscape.

“Come on,” I said when the thunder had ended. “Let’s get onto the bus before it leaves without us.”

Milton and I pushed against the wind until we found our bus and took a seat near the back. The weather outside worsened as we waited. The wind blew a stop sign past my window. The sky exploded with lightning.

Finally the bus rumbled into motion. Looking out the rain-splattered window, I could see trees shaking and power lines snapping loose. We passed an electronics store where the manager was fighting off a group of looters with a vacuum cleaner.

That morning, before the weather had taken a turn for the deadly, it had been a sunny fall day in Sheepsdale, one of the last really warm days of the year. Sheepsdale was a small town in upstate New York, nestled between a river and rolling green hills. Except for the occasional threat of apocalyptic doom, it was a pretty uneventful place to live.

When we reached downtown, the harsh weather suddenly stopped. It was as if we’d passed under an enormous invisible roof. There was no rain or wind. Everything looked absolutely still. A wall of gray clouds swirled around us. An eerie silence hung in the air.

My first thought was that we’d entered the eye of the storm. But then the bus lurched to a halt, and I realized what was going on.

My parents were floating in the intersection. They were holding a press conference.

It’s embarrassing to run into your parents when you’re with people from school, especially when your parents are about to destroy the planet.

Mom was drifting five feet above the ground on her hover scooter, wearing her usual uniform—a green one-piece armor body shield and black eye mask. Dad was drifting beside her on his own hover scooter. He was dressed in a dark gray jumpsuit, with blood-red gloves and boots. He was wearing a pair of massive silver goggles.

Dozens of reporters surrounded them, spilling out into the street with their cameras and microphones.

Kids crowded to one side of the school bus, pressing their faces against the glass to get a better look.

“I can’t hear anything!” someone in the front yelled. “Open a window!”

All at once, twenty windows rattled down.

I ducked low, worried that my parents would notice me. Milton squeezed against my shoulder to get a better look.

“That’s the Dread Duo!” His voice was full of fear and amazement.

“Is it?” I asked, trying to sound like I wasn’t sure who they were. Like I hadn’t just eaten breakfast with the Dread Duo seven hours earlier.

“There’s the Botanist.” Milton pointed at my mom. “She can control plants with her mind. And next to her is Dr. Dread. He wears those goggles because of his superpowered eyesight. They set a horde of zombies loose in Washington, D.C., last year. They tried to vaporize California with a death laser, but then it got blocked by Captain Justice. I can’t believe they’re actually
here
.”

Milton went quiet as soon as Dr. Dread—my dad—began speaking to the gathered reporters.

“You may have noticed the sudden change in weather when you reached this intersection.” He gestured to the wall of pounding rain and snow that surrounded the calm, clear area of downtown where our bus was stopped. “We have created a Vortex of Silence, which neutralizes the effects of the Weather Alterator within
a fifty-foot radius of wherever we go. This Vortex of Silence will keep us safe and dry, even as the weather outside gets worse.”

“And we assure you that it
will
get worse,” my mom continued. “Much worse. Unless the government agrees to meet our demands, every continent on earth will be destroyed in”—she checked her watch—“less than four hours.”

My parents did this kind of thing sometimes—death lasers, rampaging zombies, floods. I guess it was part of their job description. They were two of the most feared supervillains in the world. But that was only one part of who they were. As far as anyone in town knew, my mom was just an ordinary horticulture professor at the local junior college and my dad was a stay-at-home inventor. They had a regular house in a regular neighborhood on the outskirts of a regular little town. And they had a regular son.

In other words,
me
.

My name’s Joshua Dread. Well, that’s one of my names, anyway. I’ve gone by lots of them. My last name changes every time my parents pick up and move to another new town. Some kids have to make new friends when they move. I have to make up a whole new identity. But I can’t tell you the name I go by now. It would be too dangerous—for me, and probably for you too.

The press conference was still going on. Reporters screamed questions to my parents.

“How can you expect the government to meet such an unreasonable demand in such a short amount of time?” yelled one.

“I don’t think a private jet filled with hundred-dollar bills is so unreasonable.” A wicked smirk passed over my dad’s face. “I prefer to think of it as … 
creative
.”

“What about Captain Justice?” called another reporter. “Aren’t you concerned that he’ll put a stop to these plans?”

My mom glared at the reporter with a sour expression. Captain Justice was the most famous superhero in the world. He was also my parents’ archrival. Just mentioning his name around the house was enough to get me sent to my room.