Chapter 25: Debacle

Emily had brought home a lot of paperwork that weekend and so hadn’t had time to check the news sites as she normally did. Besides, Supergirl hadn’t been active and Kara’s report on how the week had gone had been encouraging.

The phone calls Sunday night took her by surprise.

The first was from Mr. Douglas. “Have you seen the news?”

“I’ve been busy tonight. Did something happen?”

“The rumors about Kara have been picked up by the news networks.”

Emily’s evening fatigue was washed away by a bucket of ice-cold adrenaline. “Have they shown her name, or a picture?”

“Not yet, though they’re showing Supergirl’s picture of course. Since it’s just hearsay at this point, the rules most organizations follow forbid identifying a minor. I can’t guarantee that every organization will show that level of restraint but for now, they are.” He paused. “However, they are showing your name and image. I strongly recommend that you allow us to provide you with protection 24/7.”

Emily closed her eyes. “I understand, Mr. Douglas, and believe me, I take your offer in the spirit that it’s meant. But that will confirm it, won’t it? And then her name and photo will be plastered everywhere. Won’t that make things worse?”

“Again, Dr. Jordan, we feel it’s only a matter of time. At this point, very little time.”

“That may be, but I’d still rather wait.”

“Very well. Are you all at least carrying your emergency signals?”

They’d each been given a small item the size of a car key fob, a panic button they could press if they were in trouble.

“Yes, Mr. Douglas. I make sure the girls have theirs every day before we leave.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. I suppose we’ll continue to do it your way, for now. Good evening, Dr. Jordan.”

“Good evening, Mr. Douglas.”

The next call was even more unexpected.

“Dr. Jordan?”

“Yes?”

“This is Gloria Frye.”

Emily paused. Gloria Frye was the principal of Milford Middle School. “Good evening, Ms. Frye. What can I do for you?”

“May I meet with you, Caitlin, and Kara tomorrow morning when school starts?”

Uh oh. “Of course. May I ask what about?”

“Well for starters, I’d like to discuss the fleet of media trucks pulling up around my school.”

• • •


The three of them were very subdued on the way to school Monday. As they turned onto Lakeview Road, they could see that the normally placid surroundings of the school were a mob scene. Children were walking to school as usual, but there were also a number of trucks with huge satellite dishes, as well as a throng of reporters and camera crews. City police stood by and firmly rebuffed any attempts to photograph or approach the children.

They could see that the reporters were scrutinizing each child who entered the school. By unspoken agreement Kara walked sandwiched between Emily and Caitlin to shield her from view. Even so, as they walked up there was a cry of “That’s them!” and the din hushed. All eyes followed them as they entered the school.

They made their way to the administrative offices, students and staff silently moving out of their way. When they arrived they were waved unceremoniously into the principal’s office. The door shut behind them.

Ms. Frye stood up. “Have a seat, please.” When her guests sat down she followed suit. The first bell rang and Kara looked nervously to the door.

Ms. Frye half-smiled. “Don’t worry, girls; you’ll get a hall pass.” She leaned forward over her desk. “Now, would someone please tell me why this circus descended on my school overnight?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Frye,” said Emily. “This is not something any of us want. I don’t know how this rumor got so out of control. Believe me, we do not want the attention.”

“Is it really just a rumor?”

“Ms. Frye…” sighed Emily, slightly exasperated.

Ms. Frye frowned, then folded her arms and sat back. “All right then, what do you propose I do?”

“I propose that you let me bring my girls to school, the same as always, and wait for the media to give up when they realize there’s no story here. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of days.”

The Principal and Emily regarded each other coolly. “And what if they don’t give up? Because they find a story?”

“If and when that happens we’ll have to decide on a new plan.”

“I’m sorry,” blurted Kara.

Emily put an arm around her. “There is nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. You haven’t done anything wrong, and every child in this country has a right to an education.” She turned her gaze back to Ms. Frye.

Ms. Frye softened her expression. “That is true. However, every other child here also has a right to an education. This… zoo is disrupting that.”

“Ms. Frye, any disruption is entirely someone else’s doing. Kara is just trying to get her schoolwork done. Has she ever done anything to disrupt class or any other school activity?”

Ms. Frye regarded them for a while. “No. No, she’s been a very good student.” She smiled at Kara, then grew serious again. “Very well, we’ll try letting things be for a while. But if things get out of hand then we’ll have to decide on a new plan.” She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

Emily blushed slightly. “Fair enough.”

• • •


Mike watched as the family who’d been identified that morning ran the gauntlet on the way home from school that afternoon. He was pretty sure Kara Kent was the blonde girl with glasses he’d seen several days ago. If she wasn’t Supergirl, she certainly bore a strong resemblance.

He felt sorry that a child had to be subjected to this experience; if she was Supergirl, it was poor payment for all she’d done. The same for the foster family who’d taken care of her. Still, there was no help for it.

The police were escorting them through the crowd of reporters. He shouted out questions with the rest, questions he knew wouldn’t be answered.

Flashes were going off continuously. The two girls’ faces would be blurred out, but Emily Jordan’s wouldn’t.

• • •


The next day, Jarrod Gardiner was cooling his heels in the E.R. at Milford Memorial, wishing he could dispense with the charade and stay close to Emily to protect her properly. True, she was mostly in the same room, but she was out of sight for long stretches. He didn’t like that.

He wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for the lengthy, heated conversation between Emily and his superiors last night. She still didn’t want to give any evidence that the government held her family in any special regard; his team thought this was stretching things long past the point where it made sense.

Caitlin was relatively safe, as the school was being watched and it would be difficult for an unauthorized adult to penetrate it. Emily was a different story.

They’d reached a compromise: Jarrod could shadow her in the E.R., but wearing civilian clothes. He’d pretend to be someone waiting for treatment, changing his story as needed. No one paid much attention to someone waiting in an E.R. as long as they didn’t complain.

The story wouldn’t last more than a couple of days, but Jarrod didn’t think that would matter. This smelled like a bad situation to him.

So there he sat, pretending to read a magazine, while he was really keeping an eye on Emily and all the people she interacted with. If anyone noticed him they probably thought he was a stalker.

Emily had just stepped into the staff room adjacent to the E.R. to take a short break. Jarrod fumed silently.

Suddenly there was a shriek from behind the closed door. Jarrod leapt into action, drawing his pistol and eliciting further screams from the people around him as he sprinted across the E.R.

A policeman talking to some EMTs spun around and, seeing Jarrod’s weapon, drew his own as he ran to intercept the agent. “Police! Drop your weapon!”

Jarrod scowled in frustration. “United States Secret Service! I need to get into that room!”

“Drop your weapon!” Everyone in the E.R. was shrinking away from the confrontation.

Jarrod lay his service firearm on the ground and put his hands on his head.

“On the floor!”

“Damn it!” cursed the agent but complied, lying face down.

The policeman approached him carefully. Jarrod was glaring at him. “My credentials are in my back pocket. Hurry up!”

“Shut up and don’t move!” The policeman reached carefully into Jarrod’s pocket, never taking his eyes off his hands. He picked up Jarrod’s weapon and backed away. Only then did he look at the ID. His face paled and he swore vociferously. “I’m sorry! You can go!”

Jarrod got to his feet. “My gun, Officer!”

The policeman handed him the weapon and Secret Service ID, and he grabbed both before barreling through the staff room door. A nurse was cowering in the corner, pointing to a rear door. “They had guns…”

Jarrod swore again and charged out the rear door into a service corridor. He had no idea which way they’d gone, but the trail of terrified hospital employees pointed the way. He finally bolted out a service entrance only to see a parking lot full of cars, with no sign of Emily. He looked at his feet — and saw Emily’s panic button and cell phone.

• • •


Kara was watching Ms. Noether demonstrate how to add fractions when something tugged at her attention. It wasn’t a new sound, but something had changed. She suddenly realized it was Emily’s heartbeat. It had sped up briefly, then become slow and steady again.

She ignored it, as Emily often got agitated during the course of a normal day. Then she heard Jarrod arguing with someone about guns, and cursing. That was a concern, but didn’t seem like something she should leave school for without instruction from an adult.

Then she noticed something else odd: Emily’s heartbeat was becoming more distant. In fact, it seemed to be moving towards the shore. That couldn’t be right.

Jarrod spoke again, urgently. “Gardiner, declaring Code Red. Hawkeye has been abducted. I repeat, Hawkeye has been abducted. By armed hostiles, likely by car or truck, destination unknown.”

Kara was frightened now. Who was Hawkeye? And why was Emily’s heartbeat—

She jerked bolt upright and gasped, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Ms. Noether stopped her lecture. “What is it, Kara?”

“I… I… I have to go!”

Comprehension dawned on many of the students’ faces, but others were confused and mistook her meaning. Someone snickered.

Ms. Noether was confused as well; she frowned. “Class will be over in five minutes. Can’t you wait until then?”

Emily’s heartbeat was getting harder to hear, farther away; Kara was frantic. “I have to go right now!”

Ms. Noether sighed in exasperation. “Oh very well, Kara, but—”

She never finished her sentence. Kara blurred out the door of the classroom, leaving a whirlwind of scattered papers and screams in her wake. There was a sonic boom that rattled the windows slightly, and the door swung slowly shut.

The press assembled around the school heard the noise, but there was nothing to see by the time they looked up. They all looked at one another.

• • •


Kara didn’t pause to change into her uniform. She knew she’d just outed herself but at the moment that was a distant concern. She was focused entirely on saving Emily and every second counted.

She hovered two thousand feet above Milford, lowered her glasses, and cast her vision in the direction she’d last heard her foster mother’s heartbeat; it was towards the marina. She detected some commotion there, and zoomed in. She saw a car with its trunk open, two agitated men getting up off the ground, and a boat heading out of the harbor.

Focusing on the boat, she saw men with guns inside; Emily lay unconscious on a bench. Kara looked into her chest and saw that her heart was beating normally. Only then did she allow herself to breathe.

The boat had Milford markings. Kara saw that it was heading towards a larger boat about a mile offshore. She scanned that boat as well; it appeared to be out of Key West, Florida.

She suddenly realized she was flying in her school skirt, which was not well suited to the task. She debated taking the three seconds needed to go home and change into her uniform, and decided she might as well. She might have blown her secret — what little of it remained — but she didn’t have to broadcast it to everyone. Maybe the government could come in and erase everyone’s memories at school, like in that movie her dad liked. That would be pretty cool, actually.

The reporters camped out at their home didn’t even have time to see her when they heard the door slam as she left.

She raced towards the bay while checking again on Emily, who still seemed unharmed. A thought suddenly struck her and she changed course to the hospital instead.

Jarrod was standing in the parking lot talking with another agent — she noticed the black suit and earpiece — so she landed right next to them.

“Supergirl?” exclaimed Jarrod, surprised. He looked around and lowered his voice. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“I heard what happened to Emily,” said Kara emotionally.

“Oh.” Jarrod hesitated. “We’re blocking off all the roads, and helicopters are on the way. I’m sure we’ll find her…”

“I already found her,” said Kara. “She’s in a boat with some men with guns. She’s unconscious but she looks OK. The boat is heading for a bigger boat. I wanted to ask you what to do before I went there.”

Jarrod closed his eyes in relief. “Can you rescue Emily first and bring her here? Then you can go back, disarm the men, and bring them to the police station. I’ll tell them to expect you, OK?”

Kara nodded, turned to go, then stopped. “Jarrod? I, uh…” and she looked every bit her eleven years of age, “I kinda messed up. I was in math class when I figured it out, and I… I kinda freaked out, and…” She blushed and looked down, intently examining her red shoes.

Jarrod sighed. “I understand. I’ll let everyone know.” He smiled. “It’ll be all right. Go save her, OK?”

Kara nodded and was gone.

• • •


The stolen boat lay abandoned behind them as they put out to sea. The snatch had gone off perfectly and the “asset” was locked in a stateroom below decks. The woman would soon be in the hands of their boss at a hideaway no one could find. Then they’d see what Supergirl could be made to do, instructed by encrypted, untraceable email.

The men were just settling down to a long-delayed meal when there was a loud crunch.

“Check the prisoner!” shouted the Captain, and they rushed below decks. They found the door to the stateroom unlocked and the guard already standing inside, gaping at the new hole in the ceiling.

That barely had time to register when they heard a commotion above decks. They all rushed topside, only to find their weapons gone.

“Let’s get out of here!” shouted the Captain. “Full speed!” The helmsman complied, throttling up the engines.

Nothing happened, except for the whine of propellers biting into empty air. At this point they noticed that the ocean was not where it was supposed to be. A seagull squawked angrily at them as it floated by, apparently flying backwards. They then realized it was they who were moving.

Two hundred feet in the air.

• • •


A large group of Secret Service agents, Sussex and Kent County deputy sheriffs, and Milford police stood ready with weapons drawn, waiting by the police station for the kidnappers. What they weren’t expecting was the delivery method.

Without exception, their jaws dropped as a one hundred foot power cruiser came sailing over the roofs of Milford, Supergirl holding it over her head. She drifted slowly downward.

“Where should I put it?” she called.

Alan Roth, the agent in charge, shook himself and looked around. The river that ran through town passed right behind the station. There was a dock, but the boat was too big and the river too shallow — he didn’t want to block river traffic. There was an unpaved area behind the station; he pointed.

“OK,” said Supergirl, and floated the boat over, gently setting it down. The cruiser tilted over onto its side as she did so, and the top deck came into view. A very confused looking group of men slid towards the gunwale as their footing was upended. Alan heard a whoosh as Supergirl shot off somewhere.

“United States Secret Service!” shouted Alan. “Put your hands in the air!”

The criminals complied meekly, just as a ball of crushed guns landed next to the boat with a loud thud. Alan looked up, but Supergirl was already gone again.

• • •