Superheroine - Chapter 11
Stanley was waiting for her when she returned to the hotel with her purse in her hands, and her costume safely hidden under her comfortable grey sweatsuit. He didn’t look up at her when she entered. Instead, his gaze focused on the television.
“I see you’ve been busy,” he said, nodding at the screen.
Beth scrunched her face in confusion and walked further into the room so she could see the television. She groaned. The reporter she had saved was on screen, talking into the camera and motioning with exaggerated gestures. He stood in the same alley Beth had just left. Ryan Addington was his name, according to words on the bottom of the screen. A woman stood next to him. It was Rita, the woman who had made Beth aware of the trouble in the alley.
“Yes, Matt,” Addington said, addressing the news anchor back in the newsroom. “It sounds far-fetched, and we wouldn’t have believed it if we hadn’t seen it ourselves. But tonight the scene was straight out of a comic book.”
Beth rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“Any word on the man you were interviewing at the time of the attack?” the anchor asked.
“Paramedics took him to the hospital as a precaution, but he seemed to be doing well when he left. We’ll be sure to check on him as soon as we can.”
“You said there was one other eyewitness of this costumed woman in action, Ryan?” the news anchor asked.
“Yes, there was. We don’t like to be part of the news, as you know, so for that I will turn to Rita Mitchell, a local woman who witnessed our rescue. Ms. Mitchell, can you tell us what you saw?”
“Yes, yes I can, Ryan,” Rita jabbered, speaking so fast she was hard to understand. “I saw y’all in trouble, so I sent her to help you.”
“You sent her?”
“Yes, I did, Ryan. I knew she was in the area since I met her early tonight, and knew what she could do.”
“How do you know her, Rita?”
Rita smiled. “I’m a good luck charm. I was just in the right place at the right time.”
Beth rolled her eyes again.
“Tell us what you saw happen.”
“After I told her you needed help, she went a runnin’,” Rita continued. “She leapt through the air almost like she was flying. It happened fast - kicks, punches, throws. Those guys never stood a chance. Once she took ‘em down, she let ‘em go so she could check on you.”
“Can you describe her for us?”
“She was wearing a stretchy, kinda shiny outfit. Blue on the top, with a short white skirt. Like what those Olympic ice skaters wear, but simpler and not as frilly. Just blue and white. And she is a small thing. No more than five foot five, but you would have never guessed it by the way she threw those two muggers around.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Yes. Just like the old guy said when she left. She’s Sapphire Angel.”
Beth shook her head hard, back and forth. No, no, no! The man had said she was like a sapphire angel, not that she was Sapphire Angel. Rita either heard wrong or was taking artistic license. Whatever the reason, the genie was out of the bottle now. She could almost hear John’s comic books laughing at her with a full belly laugh now. She had a superhero name.
The screen cut away from the reporter and back to the news desk. The anchor, Matt Miller, sat with a news graphic over his shoulder showing a stylized word: Sapphire Angel.
“That’s Ryan Addington, News 6’s Harrisburg correspondent. Tune in for more about Sapphire Angel on News 6 This Morning, tomorrow at 6 a.m.”
As the anchor moved on to other stories, Stanley picked up the remote and turned off the television.
“Sapphire Angel?” Stanley asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, no, no. There was a guy there, and he . . . oh, never mind,” Beth shook her head and waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
Beth sighed and plopped onto the bed, setting her purse next to her.
“How did it go?” Stanley asked.
Beth told him everything, starting with parking her car. As she walked Stanley through the night’s events, excitement built within her again. She felt guilt creep up once more, battling the excitement. She couldn’t really be enjoying this, could she? Not with her boyfriend dying in the hospital.
She forced herself to continue her telling of the night’s events. When she described the man with the silver eyes, Beth shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“What is it?” Stanley asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Those eyes. It was like they saw right into my soul. And they were evil. Pure evil.”
Stanley showed no reaction, only nodding with closed lips.
“Does he run that place?” she asked.
“No,” Stanley shook his head. “The CEO and founder of Fizzure is a man called Demarco Dominick. He doesn‘t match your description of the man with silver eyes. Dominick is a massive black man.”
“Hmmm. Nobody there tonight like that. Maybe this is happening without his knowledge?”
“Doubtful. Dominick is a driven man, and a control freak, from what I could dig up on him. He built that company from nothing. And in his divorce, he paid dearly to keep his wife from having anything to do with the company. He is the company, in a way. There’s no way this would happen right under his nose.”
Beth shrugged. “Probably not, but everybody gets distracted from time to time. Look at us now. Somebody could burn down my apartment back at school, and I’d never know.”
Stanley paused, wrinkling his forehead in thought. He nodded.
“It’s possible,” he said. “His daughter has been sick, so he might be focused on that.”
“What kind of sick?”
“Drug related. Just an accumulation of issues from abusing her body. She’s barely hanging on right now.”
Beth didn’t know the girl, yet pangs of empathy tugged at her heart. Perhaps it was because of the similarity to her situation. She, too, was watching a loved one waste away.
“Poor girl,” Beth murmured. “How old is she?”
“Seventeen,” Stanley said with a deep breath. “She had her whole life in front of her.”
“Addiction is a nasty thing,” Beth said, shaking her head. “It seems like it can take anyone.”
“Yes, it can. Let’s get back to our problem, though.”
Beth continued her story, ending with saving the news team in the alley. When she finished, she looked up at Stanley with a shrug.
“Show me the photos you took in the building,” Stanley asked.
She rummaged around in her purse, retrieved the cylinder device, and handed it over to Stanley.
“I got photos of the big tube in the basement. The thing the police couldn‘t find. Now Fizzure can’t deny its existence.”
He took it and rushed over to his laptop on the desk. As he loaded it, he asked her a few more questions about her findings at the Fizzure building. He seemed most interested when she described the room with the chemicals and other materials. He jumped to that group of photographs on his screen and scrolled through them.
“Very interesting,” he murmured. “Perhaps if I spend time with this, I can learn more. I want to keep all this close to the vest, but I’ll run this by people I trust. Experts in their field. Maybe I can figure out what this stuff could do.”
“You think it could help with John’s condition?”
“Perhaps,” he said, closing his laptop lid as he stood. “I need to get back to my office and crunch some of this. You should get some rest.”
“How about that USB thingy I put on the computer? Did it help you get onto their network?”
“Not yet. Their firewall is pretty sophisticated. But give me some time.”
“I hope we have time. Is John awake yet? Can I go see him?”
“No and . . no,” Stanley answered, his voice wavering for the first time. He took a moment to compose himself. “He’s still unconscious. And I think it will be too dangerous for you at the hospital. You should stay out of sight. Right here.”
“I think I showed tonight I can take care of myself.”
“Are you going to go to the hospital wearing your costume? As Sapphire Angel?”
“I’m not Sapph-“ she began, but stopped. She couldn’t argue with him, with the emotions he must be feeling now. “Fine. But please call me if anything changes. And let me know how it goes with the police.”
“Call Ethan,” Stanley said, changing the topic. "He’s wants to talk to you. He’s upset like the rest of us. He could use an ear.”
“He tried calling earlier tonight, just before I entered the Fizzure building. I didn’t answer. I’ll call him.”
“Beth, I think it would be best if you didn’t tell him everything.”
“Such as?”
“I’d prefer you not tell him anything, actually. Until we know more, we don’t know if you could be putting him in danger. These people have secrets they don't want revealed. Enough that they shot at you and Ethan. So we must assume that anyone who knows anything is in danger.”
“Like you and Mrs. Devor?” Beth asked.
“We can keep our mouths shut. Nobody has to know we know. I don’t think Ethan is a blabbermouth, but all he has to do is tell one person, who could then tell another, and so on. We can’t risk it, for his sake and yours.”
“And yours,” Beth reminded him. “Fine. I won’t say anything. But you can’t shut me out, too. Let me know what the police say about the photos.”
Mr. Devor nodded, his mouth closed in a line, but said nothing. And then she realized.
“You don’t plan to show those photos to the police, do you? You’re worried about Fizzure learning something, and connecting me, or you, or Ethan.”
“I have to figure that out,” Mr. Devor said. “I‘ll feel things out with my contact at the police department. Learn whether I can present this evidence as a confidential informant. I’m worried about leaks. About the Fizzure people learning something. But you’re safe and so is Ethan. Let’s keep it that way.”
Beth frowned. She knew better than to argue the point with Stanley. “So, what am I supposed to say to Ethan? What does he think happened to John?”
“He thinks he got sick while you guys were on your way to your party, so you returned home. Everything you saw, including all the symptoms, you can reveal. Just not where they first started.”
“I don’t know if I can lie to him, Stanley.”
“Don’t look at it as lying. Look at as protecting him.”
Beth closed her eyes, groaned, and laid back on the bed with her eyes clenched shut.
“I’ll do my best,” she said without opening her eyes.
Beth paced the hotel room as she waited for the knock at the door. She had decided to talk to Ethan face to face. Keeping the truth from him would be bad enough. Doing it over the phone would be worse. He was hurting and needed someone to lean on. She couldn’t push him away.
Ethan had been at the hospital when she had sent him a text message, so he would arrive soon. She fought back tears as she imagined what he must be feeling. He and John had been friends since grade school, so they were more like brothers than best friends. During her few years of dating John, she had gotten to know Ethan well, too.
She heard the knock, and popped up and headed to the door. Ethan stood in the doorway, his brown eyes full of sadness. He stood about six feet tall, with the same thin, athletic frame as John. He had the same brown hair, too, but where John’s was thick and wavy, Ethan’s was soft and smooth, cut short and teased up in the front and at the part. His skin wasn’t dark, but he possessed a light, natural tan.
She let him in, and they embraced for several moments before moving into the room.
“How are you holding up?” she asked him as they sat next to one another on the bed. Beth held one of his hands in hers, covering it with her other hand. She blinked back more tears as she saw the anguish on Ethan’s face.
“Me?” he asked. “Good grief, Beth. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” she answered, giving his hand a squeeze. “The worst part is the uncertainty. I wish they could figure this thing out.”
“So, he just started puking?”
“He said he was sick first, but yeah. I left him alone for a few minutes, and when I came back to the living room…” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t finish the sentence. Ethan wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. The tears flowed, for both of them. Beth’s came out as sobs, while Ethan’s were sniffles mixed in with an occasional heave of his shoulders. She knew he was trying to keep it together.
“Was it something he ate?” Ethan said. “Mrs. Devor said the doctors ruled out food poisoning, but it has to be something.” The desperation was clear in his voice.
“I don’t know what it is, Ethan,” Beth murmured into his chest. That was partially true. She knew, or at least suspected, that John’s symptoms came from what had happened with the large cylinder in the Fizzure building. But she truly didn’t know what was ailing her boyfriend.
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“What can we do?” she replied. “We can hope the doctors figure this out.” She again felt as if she were lying to Ethan, by not telling him of her efforts with Stanley.
The best tonic was to remember happier times, so they changed the topic, telling some of their favorite stories of John. They even managed a few laughs. After several minutes the conversation moved from old stories to the present.
“Did you see what’s all over one of the local news stations, about the costumed woman who came to rescue of the reporter and his camera lady?” Ethan asked. “Sapphire Angel, they’re calling her.”
Beth subconsciously tugged the hem of her sweatshirt down, making sure it covered her costume. She wondered if Ethan could sense her discomfort at the question. She looked down and nodded. “Uh, yeah. Pretty amazing, huh?”
“I’ll say,” Ethan replied. “I wonder if it’s true. But would a reporter jeopardize his career by fabricating something?”
Beth shrugged. “Hard to say in today’s world.”
“I guess so. And they had a witness. Something tells me if this is real, we’ll be hearing more of her.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she answered. “Maybe this was just a one-time thing, where she saw someone in trouble and felt she had to help.”
“Why the costume, then?” Ethan asked. “The way the reporter described it, it was fantastic. Someone doesn’t get dressed up like that if she isn’t trying to make a statement. You wear something like that so people, including the bad guys, instantly recognize you the next time. There’s no way this is a one-time thing.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Beth said softly. “Listen, Ethan, I’m tired. I’m sure you are, too. Why don’t we call it a night, and we can talk again tomorrow?”
Ethan gave Beth a concerned look. “Certainly,” he said. “I hope I didn’t keep you up.”
She squeezed his hand. “No, not at all. Just feeling tired all of a sudden.”
Ethan rose and made his way to the door. They exchanged another hug, with Beth resting her head against his chest.
After Ethan left, Beth dead-bolted the door and wandered over to the window. She pulled back the curtain and moments later Ethan came into view, walking to his car. His shoulders sagged, as if the burden of John’s condition weighed him down. Sadness welled up in Beth at the sight. Sadness and anger.
For a moment, Beth wanted to fight. Fight for John. Fight for Ethan. Fight for Mr. and Mrs. Devor. Fight for herself. Because now she could. She had abilities that made it possible. But her urge to play hero is what had caused this mess. She couldn’t let those feelings surface again. She closed the curtain, climbed into bed, and started to cry.