The Strike Trilogy (3 page)

With his new disguise in place, the mysterious guard-turned-chef nodded “hello” to the other chef, walked through the kitchen, and eventually found himself in front of a large storage room, which was filled with shelves of cooking utensils, cardboard boxes, and crates of food. After watching the other chef leave the kitchen, the guard-turned-chef stepped into the storage room, closed its door, and clicked the button on his device one more time.

This time, the man’s true identity was revealed: he was Orion Hobbes, a tall, thin black man, with grey hair and glasses. As nearly always, he was wearing black boots, a long red coat that reached his knees, and a quiver of arrows and bow on his back. Leaning against the storage room door, the old man closed his eyes and sighed, tired and worn.

But then there was a knocking at the door. “Hey!” somebody shouted from the other side. “Who’s in there? Open this door immediately!”

Orion jumped up. After using a long wooden table to barricade the door, he quickly stepped behind one of the metal shelving units. Hiding there, and peering out between the shelves, he reached behind him, grabbed an arrow from his quiver, pulled it back in his bow, and aimed it at the door. The arrowhead began to glow bright red.

After three loud
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
’s rattled the door, it was smashed open, and three green-skinned guards entered the room. However, the first was immediately blasted back by an arrow that exploded in a bright red flash against his chest and sent him flying into the kitchen.

Stunned, the second guard stepped forward and fired his gleaming, silver laser rifle. But, Orion dodged the green laser beams, jumped up onto a stack of crates, pulled his bow back, and shot another exploding arrow, all in one fluid motion.

The third guard, amazed at how an old man could move so fast, focused on his target and was able to shoot the bow out of Orion’s hand. However, the old man was unfazed; as he avoided the next series of lasers, he ran down a long metal shelf, leapt toward a hanging pipe on the ceiling, swung around it, and threw another arrow with his bare hand.

In a red streak, the whistling arrow pierced the air, struck the guard in his chest, and slammed him against the wall with a
BANG!
After sliding down the wall in a heap, he joined his other two mates on the floor, unconscious.

Letting go of the pipe, Orion dropped to the floor and picked up his bow. He was suddenly exhausted; with his body hunched over and his lungs wheezing for air, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pistol that was made out of shining, red chrome. Pointing the barrel of the pistol in front of him, he pulled its trigger, and waited.

Within seconds, the faint hum of electricity was heard, and then a red-and-white, swirling portal of energy burst into existence, forming directly in front of Orion. It had a mirror-like surface, floated above the ground, and was nearly as tall as a man, snapping and flashing like a livewire.

Orion stepped toward the portal, but then stopped—a
CRACK!
sounded from his back. The old man reached to his spine, straightening his body in pain.

“My chiropractor is gonna love this one,” he groaned.

With gritted teeth, the old man limped into the portal and disappeared. When he was gone, it closed behind him with a
SNAP!

CHAPTER FOUR

A
s Tobin arrived home from the soccer match, he found his mother’s boyfriend, Bill, washing dishes at the sink.

“Hey, Bill. What’re you doing here so early?”

“Oh, hey, Tobin. I left work at two to surprise your mom.” Bill was an exceptionally kind man in his early fifties who owned a construction business and looked like he just stepped off of a paper towel package. “How was school?”

“Not bad.” The boy headed to a cupboard above the fridge and grabbed a bag of potato chips. “Same as always, I guess.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Tobin’s mother walked downstairs and gave her son a kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, honey. Did you get that test back from Mr. Hastings today? I’m dying to see how you did.”

“No, not yet,” Tobin replied. “I guess he’s gonna give them back Monday or something.”

“Oh.” Tobin’s mother helped Bill with the dishes. “Don’t eat too many of those chips, honey; I packed you some of Grandma’s noodle soup for you to take to work. And don’t forget we might not be here when you get home.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tobin walked toward the stairs, but then turned around. “Actually, it might not matter, anyway, ‘cuz I’m probably gonna go to a friend’s house after work, and then spend the night at Chad’s. If that’s okay with you.”

Tobin’s mother thought it over. “I guess so. Is that really where you’re going? And how many other people are going to be at this friend’s house?”

“Oh, I don’t know, just the usuals: Jennifer, Chad, whoever. Plus a couple hundred other people maybe, who knows.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

Tobin’s mother looked to Bill. He smiled and shrugged.

“All right,” she sighed. “But be careful. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tobin walked to his mom and wrapped her in a hug. “Thanks, Mom. Anyone ever tell you you’re the greatest?”

“Yeah, that’s great, Tobin, but I’m serious about that: be careful. Now go get dressed for work before you’re late, remember what they said last time.”

With a grin, Tobin headed up the stairs, excited and eager for the night to begin. In the kitchen, he heard the phone ring and his mother answer it.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Hastings.”

Tobin stopped, halfway up the stairs, his eyes wide.

“Yes, he just got home a couple of minutes ago. No, he didn’t tell me what he got on his Algebra test.”

Tobin grimaced. He didn’t have to turn around to know that his mom was glaring at him. It felt like an eternity before she spoke again.

“You’re kidding me,” she sighed. “And this all happened today?”

Another sigh. Two sighs in less than a minute. Not good.

“All right, well, thank you for letting me know, Mr. Hastings. No, I’m just sorry to waste your time like this. I will. Bye.”

She hung up the phone. Tobin walked downstairs and looked to her, but she didn’t turn around. She simply stood at the sink, washing dishes.

“If you still think you’re going out tonight,” she said, “you’re crazy.”

Tobin stepped toward her. “What? Why?”

“You know why, Tobin. Don’t play stupid.”

“I’m not, Mom! Seriously! I didn’t even do anything, it was just a stupid joke.”

“Oh, it was just a joke. You got kicked out of the cafeteria for two weeks and got another detention, but it was just a joke. Okay.”

“Mom, I was just being funny. It’s not like I hurt anybody or anything. The ladies in the office were even laughing about it and everything.”

“Oh, and I guess since they were laughing about it, then I should probably just laugh it off, too, right? Well, that’s not gonna happen, Tobin. Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re grounded.”

Tobin laughed. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Tobin; I can’t allow you to keep doing this stuff. You’re seventeen years old, you shouldn’t be getting thrown out of the cafeteria and getting detentions! It’s ridiculous.” She put a dish in the drying rack. “So, until I know you’re behaving yourself, you’ll be in your room every night, unless you’re at work or eating dinner.”

Tobin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. This is so stupid. I didn’t even do anything.”

“No, you never do, Tobin. I know.”

After stomping up the stairs, Tobin grabbed his work uniform from his room, and then stomped back down again.

“This is so friggin’ ridiculous. I seriously cannot wait to get out of this place next year.”

His mother laughed. “I doubt that, Tobin. Who’s gonna clean your clothes? Who will cook you dinner?”

Tobin reached for the doorknob. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. Dad obviously did.”

A silence. Bill turned to Tobin’s mother, but she only looked to the dishes in the sink.

“Tobin,” she said, with her voice quiet, her hands in the soapy water. “Go to work.”

Spinning around, Tobin walked outside and slammed the door. But, before he got into his car, he looked back to the kitchen window. Inside, he could see his mom standing at the sink, with Bill’s arm around her. She was still looking down at the water.

At 9:25 that night, Tobin was kneeling on the floor of an empty grocery store aisle, half-heartedly straightening a series of canned string beans on a shelf. After much internal debate, and much arguing with himself, he had decided it would be best for him to just go home, skip the party, and apologize to his mom, especially after what he said to her before he left. It seemed to be his specialty: saying incredibly stupid things in an argument, usually the most hurtful things he could think of, and then immediately regretting it afterwards.

“Tobin!” he heard someone call. He looked up and saw his manager, Jeff, standing at the top of the aisle. “Go get your last carriage pick-up, then you can leave.”

Tobin stood and wiped the dust from his khakis.

“Thank god,” he muttered.

Outside, Tobin saw three lonely carriages at the end of the parking lot, so he walked to them, gathered them together, and brought them back to the entrance. As he pushed them along, the sparse sounds and sights of the night seemed to envelop him: the rusty carriage wheels squeaking; the wisps of fog floating ghost-like above the pavement; the broken streetlight buzzing and flickering above him. The boy suddenly felt very unsettled. That feeling only grew when he realized he was not alone.

“What the hell?” he wondered aloud. He looked ahead and saw somebody standing in the glass-walled entrance of the grocery store: it was a tall, thin black man, with grey hair and glasses. The old man was standing with his arms behind his back, and wearing a red coat that reached his knees.

With an uneasy feeling in his gut, Tobin pushed the carriages into the store and lined them up with the others. As he watched the old man, the old man stared right back, with a slight smile across his face.

“Hello,” Tobin offered, as he turned around.

But the old man said nothing.

“Can I help you?” Tobin asked.

But, again, nothing.

“Look,” Tobin said, pointing to the door with his thumb, “we’re about to close, so if you want something you should probably just—”

“Hello, Tobin,” the old man said.

Tobin squinted. “Uh, hi. Do I know you?”

The old man smiled. “No. But I was a very close friend of your father’s.”

Tobin’s brow furrowed. He looked the man over. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. My name is Orion, Tobin, and what I have to tell you is very, very important. I know that you don’t know who I am, and that you must be very suspicious, but you must try and listen to me. Okay? It’s very important.”

Tobin thought it over.

“Sure,” he said with a dismissive laugh. “What have you got?”

A silence.

“You are in great danger, Tobin.”

Tobin snickered. He stepped toward the door.

“Yeah, okay, thanks, pal. Thanks for that. I’ll make sure to write that one down. Look, you should probably just get out of here, okay?”

The boy pushed a button above the door and it opened. But Orion stayed put.

“I know what I’m saying sounds strange, Tobin, but a group of people are looking for you tonight. You must be very careful, please, whatever you do. This is incredibly serious.”

Tobin’s heart jumped. He looked into the store, hoping to see his manager, but saw nobody nearby.

“Uh, look,” the boy said, “if you don’t leave, I’m gonna havta tell my manager, and then he’s probably gonna call the cops, and that won’t be good, so why don’t you just go home or something, okay? C’mon, let’s go.”

Tobin motioned toward the open door.

“Dammit,” the old man snapped. He began to search for something in his coat pockets, his fingers trembling, his breath coming in quick gasps. “I don’t have much time—dammit, where is...? Here, here, look.” He handed Tobin a photograph. “This is a picture of your father and me.”

Tobin looked down at the photograph. It showed two men in their early thirties: one of them was a young Orion, wearing the same red coat, while the other was a dark-haired man. The dark-haired man was wearing a midnight blue outfit with a black cape on his back, and also black gloves. On his chest there was a white “S” in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Tobin was stunned. The man looked like his father.

“Okay,” the boy asked, “what the hell is this? Who are you?”

Orion suddenly screamed out. Tobin jumped back, startled, as the old man doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“I’m sorry, Tobin, I wish I could stay, but I can’t, I—arrrgghh!” He groaned and gritted his teeth, his voice a hoarse, pained whisper. “Listen…if you get into any trouble tonight, if anyone comes looking for you—run. It doesn’t matter what your body tells you, or what you think you should do: run. Run until you are far away, and even then do not stop.”

Tobin’s thoughts flew a mile a minute.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “What is this?”

The old man screamed out again, falling against the wall. As he staggered toward the exit, he held his side.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll do my best to speak to you again soon, Tobin. I’m sorry.”

Holding out his hands in confusion, Tobin watched as Orion ran out of the store and down the building. Then, with his lip curled, the boy looked around, half-expecting to see a hidden camera.

“Okay,” he said. “What the hell was that?”

The boy ran out of the store and after Orion.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Hey, get back here!” The old man was running away and almost at the end of the building. “You can’t just leave! What are you talking about? Hey! Hey!”

But suddenly, when Orion turned the corner of the store, a blinding red flash and a violent snap of lightning erupted in the night.

“Whoa!” Tobin exclaimed. He staggered back, raising an arm to shield his eyes. When he regained his bearings, he found that the world was covered in a red haze, and his ears were ringing like mad. Cautiously stepping forward, he placed his hand on the corner of the building and peered around it, looking to the back of the grocery store.

But nothing was there.

The old man was gone.