Rise of the Heroes (10 page)

“MOM!” shouted Toby.

He spurred forward and was instantly struggling against the savage winds. Leaning forward, almost at forty-five degrees, he pushed onward. His fingers gripped a metal grille on the undercarriage of Tempest's glider-disc and he was yanked from his feet, his body flailing wildly.

“Mom! Hold on! We'll save you!”

Tempest peered down, and snarled. “This is what you get for meddling! She's my hostage now!”

“We've got no powers! Tempest'll kill him!” screamed Lorna. She ran for her brother, struggling free of Emily's attempts to hold her back. The wind slapped Lorna's face hard when she hit the tornado wall and her feet slid across the uneven ground.

Toby felt Lorna's hand grip his foot as he was pulled
higher. His heart pounding, he glanced down to see Lorna precariously swinging beneath him. She opened her mouth to yell something—but didn't see a broken piece of furniture, caught in the tornado, whirl around and slam into her.

Toby stretched his free hand toward her. His fingers raked across her sleeve—but she lost her grip and was flung aside by the force of the tornado, as though shot from a sling. She flew across what was left of the office and smashed into the wall.

Toby secured his other hand on the glider and looked defiantly at Tempest. “Let her go!”

“You brats have ruined one set of plans! Now I've got some insurance that you don't do it again! If you do you'll never see her alive!” His peculiar, unrecognizable accent made the words even more threatening. Then something occurred to him. “What's the matter? No superpowers? Ha! Then it's time to die!”

Tempest cackled as a stream of ice shot from his finger. It narrowly missed Toby's hand, but the cold seeping through the metal was so intense he felt his blood run cold; his fingers numbed and he was forced to let go.

Toby dropped, and then was yanked sideways by the whirlwind. The gale hurled him across the backyard.

“Say good-bye to your mommy, fake little heroes!” roared Tempest. He was almost out of sight by now. “And don't forget to clean your rooms!”

With a mighty blast of wind, the twister blew itself into nothingness—the sudden shift in pressure knocked Emily and Pete to the ground. A hail of rubble that had been caught in the tornado rained down, forcing them to shield their heads as it bounced around.

Emily was first on her feet and ran to Lorna, who was slumped against the wall, groaning.

“Lorn, you okay?”

To Emily's relief Lorna's eyes flicked open and she nodded.

“Mom?”

Emily didn't know what to say. Her hesitation was enough for Lorna to understand.

Tempest was gone. And so was her mother.

Lorna looked around with a frown. “Toby?”

Emily pointed out of the destroyed house. Pete was leaning over the prone body of Toby. Pete gently shook his friend but there was no response.

Lorna's own pain was forgotten as she knelt next to Toby. He had a cut on the side of his head that was bleeding freely. Trembling with fright, she staunched it with her sleeve as Emily felt for his pulse.

“It's strong,” said Emily.

Lorna and Emily had both achieved certificates in first aid, but Lorna couldn't remember a single thing they had learned. Emily was much more composed when under pressure, but she was still relieved when Toby coughed and his eyes flickered open.

“What …?” was all he managed before Lorna crushed him in a hug, squeezing the breath from him. Then Pete rapidly explained what had happened.

“You're a complete nut, attacking Doc Tempest without any powers,” concluded Pete.

Toby didn't say a word. The shock of losing his mom had just hit him and he could find no words to express himself.

“What have we done?” Lorna asked in a trembling voice. “Where's he taken Mom?”

Toby didn't know what to say. He and Lorna stared at the remains of their home. It reminded Lorna of a dollhouse she had once had, one where the front hinged open, revealing the interior. Half the study and kitchen had been gouged away by the twister, including Toby's bedroom and the bathroom above. Papers fluttered everywhere as most of the books in the study had been torn apart under the fierce air pressure. Severed pipes shot pressurized jets of water out, while broken electrical cables snaked with a life of their own, sparking angrily. To top it off, Lorna swore she could smell gas; she was now worried the remains of the house would explode in an instant. The whole structure creaked ominously.

Toby's foot caught something. It was a small box that he instantly recognized. He carefully picked it up and opened it, making sure the contents didn't spill out and break on the floor. Several sealed vials of insulin and an injection kit. Lorna saw it, and if possible, became even graver.

“How long can she last without her medication?”

“What's it for?” asked Pete.

“Mom's got type one diabetes. She gets low on sugar and needs these injections regularly or she'll collapse. Even die.”

Toby closed the kit and held it tightly. The clock was ticking.

* * *

The fire department had arrived quickly and the children had been escorted from the scene by a fireman, who warned them that the building was close to collapse, and would probably have to be demolished.

Next, the ambulance crews arrived, and all four children found themselves draped in silver thermal blankets. Paramedics tended to their wounds. Once the blood had been cleaned away they could see the cuts were minor, although the one on Toby's head looked impressive and needed a few butterfly stitches and a large bandage.

Finally the police arrived, cordoning off the entire street, since the twister had ravaged five other houses in its path of destruction. The police asked Toby and Lorna if the house had been empty.

They described how their mother had been plucked away by the tornado—both children agreeing not to mention Doc Tempest's involvement. After all, they had no idea if the police would believe them. Or who—if anybody—knew about these rampaging supervillains?

The kind-faced policewoman who took their statement was surprised by just how well Lorna and Toby were taking the news about their missing mother. Toby overheard her talking to a colleague, asking for an aerial search for their mother's body; they believed she must
have died. Tornadoes often drop objects miles from the point they were vacuumed up.

By six o'clock the police had to keep packs of newshungry camera crews at the end of the street. They had no luck contacting Lorna and Toby's father, and their nearest relatives were in Europe somewhere.

Fortunately, Pete and Emily stepped in to prevent their friends from having to stay with Social Services. They said it would be okay if they stayed with them. Calls were exchanged, and with little choice, Toby went to stay with Pete, and Lorna with Emily.

Before they parted ways, Toby and Lorna had a brief quiet moment together—and Lorna broke down in floods of tears. Toby bit his lip to fight back his tears.

“You think … Mom is …?” Tears choked the rest of Lorna's sentence.

“Don't even think it,” he said sharply. He was feeling lousy and upset, but knew he had to be there as a support for his sister. He may have argued a lot with his mother lately, but the thought of her in any danger made him feel both angry and sad. “Tempest
needs
her alive. I'm sure he'll have something to help her.” His voice broke, but he regained his composure. “So you know Mom's going to be fine. And
we
are the ones who are going to get her back.”

Lorna blew her nose noisily and rubbed her eyes. “You mean that?”

“Completely. We're going to rescue Mom, and put a stop to Doc Tempest.”

This drew a half-smile from Lorna. Toby felt the conviction of the words burn into him, but he had no idea how they were going to achieve any of it.

Now Toby lay on an inflatable mattress on Pete's floor, wearing a pair of his friend's pajamas. He glanced at the alarm clock, the red LCD numbers burning in the darkness. One thirty in the morning, and Toby didn't feel any trace of fatigue.

If only he had powers now, he'd find Tempest and make him pay. …

Toby sat bolt upright, bobbing on the inflatable mattress as if it was a waterbed. “Pete?” he whispered. “Are you awake?” Nothing. He tried again, louder this time: “PETE! You awake?”

He heard snuffling from Pete's bed. “Huh? Um, yeah … I am now. What's wrong?”

“We've got to go back to my house!”

Pete breathed out heavily. “Toby, dude. You can't. They're probably knocking it down as we speak. Try to sleep, I'm sure they'll save as many things of yours as they can.”

“But the computer! It's the only way we can access Hero.com.”

Pete sat up in bed, instantly awake. In all the chaos, he'd completely forgotten too. “Maybe we can access it on mine?”

“How? We don't know the URL and you said yourself that you searched the Net, but couldn't find anything about it.”

Pete nodded. “You're right, we have to get to your computer.”

Then a dark thought suddenly crossed Toby's mind.

“If it hasn't been destroyed by the twister.”

Sneaking out of Pete's house had been simple, although they had run into the unexpected problem of creeping past Pete's dad, who was sleeping on the couch, blanket drawn up to his chin and snoring loudly.

The rain had stopped, and now the town was shrouded in fog that gave the dark streets an eerie quality. As they approached Toby's street, they were glad they had it to shield them from the police officer sitting in his car, amid lines of “POLICE—DO NOT ENTER” tape.

The cop looked up and for one heart-sinking moment Pete thought they had been seen. But the cop just glanced around, and then continued doing a crossword in his folded newspaper.

“Come on,” whispered Toby. He pointed to the nearest front yard. “Cut through this way.”

He led the way across a driveway, both boys hunkered as low as possible. They scrambled under a hedge and into the next yard and continued down the street that way.

The yards resembled a disaster zone. Smashed roof slates, soggy papers, litter, splintered wood, glass, and—strangely—an assortment of socks. Toby didn't bother to check, but they were probably his.

As they reached his house, Toby glanced back to see that the fog had obscured the police car. A framework had been erected across the front of the building, holding plastic sheets that gave the impression the house had been gift-wrapped. Toby found a slit between two of the sheets and they slid inside.

Pete flicked on his flashlight, which he'd thankfully remembered to bring along. It took several seconds for Toby to realize he was standing in what used to be the hallway. Looking into the kitchen he could see that the heavy oak table had been split in half, both pieces then tossed against the wall, leaving huge indents in the plaster.

“What a mess,” muttered Toby.

He walked into the remains of the study. The damage looked particularly bad here, with a greater section of the house pulled away. Pete ran the flashlight beam across the room. Not a single piece of furniture had survived. The plastic sheeting formed one entire wall,
while the rear window had been blown out across the backyard.

“I bet this is right where the tornado hit,” said Pete. “It's cleaner than the rest, like the twister vacuumed it all up.”

“Yeah, I bet Mom was on the computer at the time, she always is …” Toby faltered as he realized there was no sign of the computer. “It's not here!”

Toby snatched the flashlight from Pete and started to kick over pieces of smashed wood lying on the floor. Then he spotted something wedged under a desk-sized chunk with a light fixture jutting from the wood, giving testament to the fact it used to be part of the ceiling. Toby tried to remove it, plaster crumbling in his hand. It was heavy.

“Help me lift this!”

Pete found a handhold next to Toby, and together they levered the large chunk of ceiling upright, letting it fall with a crash—revealing the battered desktop computer case underneath, the metal buckled and scratched and lying in an inch of rainwater. The monitor lay next to it, tangled in a snarl of cables. The screen was smashed, and the plastic housing had cracked clean in two.

“I don't think that it's going to work,” said Pete.

“Oh no …,” groaned Toby, kneeling down to inspect the computer. A brick was poking out of the front panel where the DVD drive should have been. The
whole case was tilted at an angle—“like the Leaning Tower of Pisa,” thought Pete.

“We've lost it. How're we going to get that Web site back?” said Toby with a hint of panic. “How are we going to save my mom?”

His fist slammed the top of the computer, causing no damage whatsoever; the machine had already taken enough.

An idea suddenly occurred to Pete. “Just open it up.”