Gasping for breath, Clark broke the surface of the water. It had taken all the air in his lungs and more to move the entire boat without putting too much pressure on any one part. He’d had to duck under the rescue ships without moving too fast, or they’d be complaining about torpedoes again.
Glancing back, he saw that the rescue boats were between him and the recently recovered fishing boat. No one was looking in his direction; all eyes were turned toward the emerging drama on the boat.
There wasn’t anything he could do for the survivors now. Even flying them to a hospital wouldn’t give them quicker access to the decompression chambers. Those were already on the rescue ships, and the survivors were already being rushed to them. All he could do was hope that he’d managed to save at least some of them without hurting them too badly.
The way he was feeling now reminded him of how he’d felt when he’d first realized he could fly. It was euphoria, the kind of high he’d sometimes seen in sky divers and bungee jumpers. He felt on top of the world, as though nothing could get him down.
He found himself smiling, grinning in a way that wouldn’t go away. He wanted nothing so much as to shoot into the stratosphere and shout out his joy.
This was what he’d been born to do. He’d had little hints before, when he’d used his gifts to help, but nothing like this.
Clark took several more deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. At this time of the evening, the light was on the water, but all the glare was coming from the west. He didn’t dare take off from within sight of the two ships, on the off chance that someone might spot him. It would be easier with the sun to their backs. This meant that he needed to swim at least several miles before he could emerge from the water.
Maybe the cool water would help calm him, cut the feeling of euphoria a little.
Part of him hoped not. It had been a long time since he’d felt this good.
**********
Lois found herself transfixed by what was happening on the screen, just like the rest of the nation. It was a gripping drama, the pictures of men being rushed on stretchers into decompression chambers.
It had been a close thing. Any longer, and men would have died. There was still a chance that at least some of them would die from the bends. But somehow a miracle had spared them, and it was almost certain that most of the men were going to make it.
Kendall looked haggard with an oxygen mask over his face and wrapped in heavy blankets. The men were freezing, and that would have to be cared for along with a litany of broken bones, sprained ankles and possible frostbite.
As soon as that drama died down, with all surviving crew accounted for, the discussion about what had happened began.
Some scientists offered a natural explanation. In July 2006, divers and scientists at Santa Barbara had videotaped a massive methane blowout from the ocean floor in the Santa Barbara channel.
That had created a bubble that was five thousand cubic feet….the size of the first floor of an entire two bedroom house.
The video of this was shown repeatedly.
Other scientists disputed that explanation. The explosion in the Santa Barbara channel had been in an area of gas and oil seepage from small volcanoes in the ocean floor. The undersea geology in the area of the accident wasn’t the same and wouldn’t have supported that sort of an explosion.
In any case, that explosion had been as loud as a freight train, while this one had been almost soundless.
Conspiracy theorists insisted on pointing at the computer sonar records. Something had come from the east at a speed of two hundred knots before just disappearing. This was far faster than most torpedoes, and the only known weapon capable of moving that fast was the Russian Squall torpedo, which used something called supercavitation, that essentially surrounded the missile with a bubble of air so that only its nose ever hit water.
The argument was that it could have been launched from up to twenty miles away. However, the squall missile was over twenty feet long. The sonar records which were available indicated that whatever had been launched had only been two to three meters in length.
This could only be some sort of secret U.S. weapon using similar supercavitation technology, some pundits asserted, proof that the U.S. had technology the rest of the world didn’t know about.
It was argued that this demonstration was to serve as a warning to some of the other nations, that it was a demonstration of American naval superiority.
Both the United States and Russia denied having any vessels in range to have launched anything, much less a hypothetical weapon designed to create silent explosions.
Everyone agreed that it was a miracle.
What bothered Lois as much as anything was the knowledge that something approximately the size of a human being had rocketed toward the sunken boat and shortly afterward that boat had been saved.
It was almost enough to make someone believe in Aquaman.
Or Superman.
************
He’d ruined another outfit. Clark felt rueful as he finally began to fly at a low elevation across the country. The wind was hard enough on clothes that weren’t tight up against his body; slicing through the water at more than two hundred miles an hour had ripped clothes off yet again.
All that was left were his boxer shorts and socks. His shoes were still on his feet, but they were ripped to shreds.
If he was going to do this sort of thing very often, he’d have to have some sort of outfit that was a little sturdier, or the clothing costs were going to beggar him.
It would have to be something that clung tight against his skin. As Clark considered what sort of outfit might work best, he began to form a mental image.
Shadowy at first, it began to fill in. He’d always loved the color blue. Perhaps some sort of body stocking or ski suit. Slap a symbol on the front and people would know who he was. They might not think he was some sort of alien freak.
The underwear on the outside, that was ridiculous of course, although Clark could see how it might help to conceal certain areas of his anatomy. It might be helpful to have a belt where he could slip money in case he needed it.
Boots might be good, both to make him seem a little taller than his everyday self and to give him another place to slip things like money and credit cards. He’d lost his wallet two or three times already this trip.
At home he’d been able to fly slow enough not to destroy his clothing, but this was a faster paced world.
Clark couldn’t help it that the image of a blue and red suit kept coming to his mind. The cape would have to be made of something special anyway since it wouldn’t be protected the way the rest of the suit was.
Damn that movie. The theme song had been rolling around in his head since he’d seen it, and now he couldn’t get the costume out of his mind either.
**********
Hilda’s face was flushed and her eyes were red. Lois wasn’t surprised. In the background she could see the television muted, set to the still unfolding drama of the Celeste Marie.
Of course, it was going to be hours before there was any real word of the survivors’ condition, and by this point, all the theories and explanations of what had happened were just beginning to repeat themselves.
“I need you to pick up a few pre-paid phones for me,” Lois told her in a low voice. “Some government goons bugged my apartment, and I’m pretty sure they are listening in on my phone.”
If the battery wasn’t unplugged on her telephone, they’d be able to use it as a microphone. Of course, they had to know which phone she was using, so pre-paid was the best bet.
Hilda stared at her wide eyed. Lois handed her the money, then patted her on the shoulder. “He’ll be all right.”
“I just couldn’t believe…” Hilda said.
Hilda’s telephone rang.
She looked at Lois apologetically then went to pick it up.
“She’s right here.”
Lois glared at Hilda for a moment before sighing and reaching for the telephone.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do a little follow up on the missile story?”
“The Celeste Marie?” Lois asked. It was a huge story, but it was a little out of her usual territory.
“No…the one from before. The little piece you did on the missile over Washington.”
“You didn’t run it,” Lois said.
There hadn’t been enough there to run it; even Lois had known that.
“Apparently a couple of college kids were in a restaurant near Andrews Air Force Base. The place is usually crawling with airmen. They have cell phone footage of half the restaurant emptying out after more than twenty people received simultaneous phone calls.”
“When was that?” Lois asked. Frowning, she realized that the mobilization had occurred only a few minutes before the Celeste Marie had turned up afloat.
She quickly began taking down notes. Even though it was well after dark she had a long way to go.
She glanced over at Hilda, who sighed. Hilda knew what that look meant, which was one of the reasons Lois found her so valuable.
*************
It wasn’t every day that Cyrus got to see an angel.
He’d seen plenty of devils in his time, when he wasn’t taking his medications, but angels were something new.
The angel wasn’t anything like what he’d have expected. There were no white robes, no wings, and no halo. This angel didn’t wear anything, other than a pair of black boxer shorts and a white pair of socks. He even looked younger than what Cyrus would have expected,like a young man in the prime of his life.
If he hadn’t been floating down from the heavens, Cyrus would have thought he was just another surfer, or maybe somebody drunk.
The angel’s voice was that of an ordinary man, and there was something kind about his eyes that Cyrus immediately liked.
It took him a moment to realize that the angel was actually speaking to him.
“Could I borrow a little money? I promise I’ll get it right back to you.”
Cyrus stood transfixed. He was wearing everything he owned, all six shirts and three pairs of pants. He had the best pair of boots he could find at Goodwill, and despite all of it, he was still never warm even here in the California winter, which was so much gentler than New York winters had been.
Everything he owned, and all he had was a single crumpled up five dollar bill.
All Cyrus could think was that the angel was testing him somehow. Old sermons about faith and sacrifice and parables about a poor widow giving her only coin rolled through his head. Wordlessly he reached into his pocket and pulled out the grimy bill.
The angel smiled at him and walked across the street, leaving the darkness to head for the convenience store across the wide, shadowy expanse of parking lot.
He stepped inside, and it seemed that he was gone forever. Eventually, the angel stepped out and headed slowly across the parking lot, heading for the isolated section of beach that Cyrus had staked out for himself.
The angel began handing him bills, twenties, more than Cyrus had seen in a long time.
“Thanks,” the angel said, rising once more into the sky.
All Cyrus could do was stare down at the money in his hands. Maybe this was a sign that he needed to go back on his medications; that he needed to make peace with his sister. She had a good shower and a roof, and she didn’t complain nearly as much as he sometimes liked to think.
The money in his hands was certainly enough to get a hot meal and a bus ride home, with a little left over for incidentals.
Cyrus began to whistle tunelessly as he began to gather his things together.
Only a fool spoke to an angel and didn’t let it change his life. Whatever else Cyrus was, schizophrenic, alcoholic or whatever, he was nobody’s fool.
***********
“The air base went nuts. Soldiers were scrambling, planes were flying…it’s just the same as it was the other day.”
Lois fumbled with the new cell phone. She’d bought a pre-paid phone specifically so it would be traceless. She’d get rid of it and switch to another soon enough. Her own phone had the battery out.
“Are you sure of the time?” she asked.
The time he’d given her matched up with all the other reports she’d been getting. She had enough already to run with the story, but she wanted to be sure she had everything.
The homeowner, a disgruntled older man who’d recently bought a house near Andrews Air Force Base snorted. “I thought I was getting a good deal when I bought this place, but six times a day I have planes flying by overhead. I was watching the news when I heard the sirens. I know what time it was, Ms. Lane.”
“You’ve been a big help Mr. Johnson.” Lois hesitated, and then said, “Is there anything else that you can remember about it?”
“Most of the planes haven’t even gotten back yet.”
Lois was in her car, ready to head for the base, which was a few miles southeast of Washington D.C. She hesitated, and then turned the key into an off position.
If the base was still locked down, they wouldn’t be answering any questions until the morning. Lois’s best bet was to get the information she had collected into a story and then try to talk to someone on the base in the morning.
She felt suddenly exhausted. Miracles and still more terror all in the same evening, it was a lot to take in.
Lois couldn’t be held responsible if part of her deep down had a suspicion that planes had been scrambled in Alaska as well as Washington.
It was a silly thought. That traitorous part of her that craved someone larger than life was something that had to be savagely suppressed sometimes. This was the real world. Magic didn’t exist and neither did superheroes.
Sometimes there weren’t even enough ordinary heroes to go around.
