Superheroine - Chapter 7
Beth was more tired than she thought. After packing a change of clothes from her home, including the costume and necklace she had worn to the facility earlier in the night, she collapsed into bed at the hotel across the street from the hospital. Even with — or perhaps because of — all the stress and worry, she fell asleep within seconds.
The sound of her iPhone chirping awoke her. She looked at the screen. It was Stanley. It was 9 a.m. She had slept for seven hours.
"Hi Stanley," she answered.
"We need to talk," he said. "Where are you?"
"Room 426 at the Hilton."
"Can I come see you?"
"Sure."
"I'll be right there."
Beth threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, wearing her light blue cotton pajama pants and a white T-shirt with a blue snowflake on the front. Her blond hair was tossed and unkempt, and her blue eyes dreary.
She rushed to the bathroom to get ready, but less than five minutes later there was a knock at her door. Beth smirked. It took longer than five minutes to get to the hotel from both the hospital, and from Stanley's home. Stanley had known all along where she was staying, probably even the room number. His call had been a formality.
Still in her pajamas, but with her hair pulled up and clipped on top her head, she opened the door. Stanley entered the room carrying a small backpack. He sat on the desk chair, while Beth popped up onto the bed, curling her legs underneath her.
"What's up?" she asked.
"I'm trying to find out if there is a cure for whatever has afflicted John."
Beth squinted her eyes. "Stanley, I've never seen something you couldn't do. But you're not a doctor. What makes you think you can come up with a cure?"
"I didn't say come up with a cure. I said find out if there is a cure. Whatever is affecting him — and affected you — came from that facility. From that cylinder. I need to know more about it. The answer may be there."
"You've told the police the same thing, right?"
"Not in so many words, but yes. I told them John was there, was shot at, and that something happened with that cylinder."
"And?"
"They talked to one of the managers of the place, who welcomed the police inside to look around. No sign of a cylinder anywhere. The big room in the basement was completely empty. And he showed them surveillance footage, of all the exits, that showed nothing around the time you were there."
"But I saw — "
"I know what you saw, Beth. I'm sure these people moved it, or something. Whatever they did, they're now denying the existence of the thing."
"I don't know how they could have moved it so quickly. It was huge and looked like it was connected to the floor. And they would have had to take it out in pieces, to fit it out any of the exits of that room."
"I know," Stanley nodded. "Which is why the police think the device never existed."
"Maybe if I came forward and confirm that I saw it?"
Stanley shook his head. "It would be two of you, against I'm sure any number of people from the facility claiming it never existed. And the police already searched the place and reviewed the video footage. What more are they to do? They'd think you're a couple of kids with wild imaginations."
"So, what are we going to do, then? There's no way to get in there and check things out?"
"There is a way, Beth."
"How?"
"You."
"Me?" she asked, jerking her head back in surprise. "What do you mean?"
Stanley closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Beth, I've debated myself all night about asking this. But my son's life hangs in the balance. You, more than anyone, have the ability to get in there, check things out, and get out."
"Stanley . . " she said, her voice trailing off. "Of course I'd do it in a heartbeat if I thought I could. But what makes you think I stand a chance?"
"Isn't that obvious? You're bulletproof, agile, and strong. At least when you wear the necklace. You can do things nobody else can. If you run into someone in there, you can handle it."
Beth let out a soft whistle as she leaned back on the bed. Stanley remained silent.
"Is this because of something John said about me?" she asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"He says I get angry when I see someone being victimized. That I always butt in. He'd assume I'd jump at this. A chance to stand up for somebody. For him."
""This has nothing to do with anything John said. But I think he's right. I've seen that side of you, too."
"This is bigger. It's real. The thought of going in there alone...." Beth shook her head. "It's terrifying. I'm just a college girl. You're making me out to be some sort of hero."
"I didn't ask because I think you want to be a hero. Or even butt in. I agonized over asking. I really did. But I don't see another way. And I know you, Beth. Even without these powers, you're more capable than you realize. And John's going to die if we don't do something."
Beth climbed off the bed and walked to the window. She pulled back the curtain and looked out upon the parking lot. A college-aged couple walked toward a car, holding hands. That should be her and John. Now she was here, with him dying across the street, and someone asking her to play hero.
Her words to John came back to her. Using a loved one's misfortune as motivation to become a hero is the biggest cliche there is. Now confronted with reality, it didn't seem like such a cliche. It seemed horrifying.
"There has to be another way," she said without turning away from the window. "You need someone who actually knows what they're doing. Someone who could do a better job than me. I can give them the necklace."
"I wish there were," Stanley replied. "I have some investigators I could call in from other jobs, but it would take some time for them to get here. We need someone who can go now. And I suspect the necklace will only work for you."
Beth wrinkled her nose, before lifting her suitcase on the bed, opening it, and rummaging around inside it. She pulled out the necklace and extended it toward Stanley. She hesitated, feeling a strange pang of loss before it even left her hand.
"You try it," she said, fighting back her hesitation.
Stanley raised an eyebrow. "Not really my style."
"Just try it. Why do you think it only works for me?"
"Call it a hunch."
"I need to know, Stanley. Please try it."
Stanley gave a slow nod before taking the necklace. A flash of panic came over her as Stanley grasped the necklace, but disappeared just as quickly.
He fastened it around his neck and looked around the room. As Beth returned to her spot on the bed, his eyes lowered to a spot below her.
"Move off the bed for a moment," he said. "Actually, better yet, don't."
With Beth watching, Stanley crouched down and grabbed the corner of the bed. He groaned, lifting, but the bed didn't move.
He held his back with a wince and straightened.
"Your turn," he said, and unfastened the necklace. Beth popped off the bed and took the necklace from him. As she put it in place around her neck, Stanley sat on the bed. She moved to the spot he had vacated and repeated his effort. The petite woman lifted the corner of the bed into the air with ease.
After she lowered the bed to the ground, she turned to stare at Stanley. She looked down, realizing her hands were shaking, but not from exertion. She chewed the inside of her cheek.
"Even if I do this, Stanley, how do I get in? I'm sure they've figured out which access card we used to open the door. By now they've deauthorized it. I may be strong, but I doubt I can knock down a steel door."
"I've thought of that. I have a little device for you."
Stanley rummaged in his bag and pulled out a small blue cylinder, about as long as three sticks of lipstick end to end, and twice as thick. When he held it up, she noticed that the blue color matched the color of her costume.
"What's this?" she asked. "Some spaced-aged weapon? You know I won't use a gun, right? A gun killed my cousin."
"It's not a gun. It's an advanced lock pick. Hold it up to an electronic door, and it will open most of them. Stick the end against the keyhole of a regular lock, and it will pick it."
"How is that even poss — wait, I don't even want to know."
"Good, because it would take too long to explain. I forgot to mention I have something else in my bag so you can clip it to the back of your boot, and you won't even notice it."
Her boots. He was assuming she would wear the necklace with her costume. It made sense, actually. She didn't want to find out at the wrong time that her powers were in some way limited if she wasn't wearing what she wore when she gained her powers.
"There's more," he continued. "The opposite end acts as a flashlight, so you don't have to fumble around in the dark. And a camera, too. Flick this toggle, then just press the first button for the flashlight, and the second for the camera."
"You've always have an answer for everything, don't you?" she asked, and inhaled deeply.
Stanley said nothing as Beth paced back and forth in front of him. She stopped and turned to him.
"Okay, I'll do this, but I'm not a hero. I'm scared out of my mind. I'm doing it for John, and because this whole thing is my fault. I want to get him healed and get things back to normal."
"Understood, you're not a hero," Stanley said with a nod. "And it's not your fault."
He unzipped the backpack, rooted around in one of its inner compartments, and pulled out a tiny item he held in his hand. He extended it toward her.
"This is a USB thumb drive, with a transmitter and some other wizardry in it. If you come across any computers inside the facility, I want you to stick this in a USB port. That will allow me to access the computer as if I were sitting at it, and possibly break into it. That could give me access to their network."
"If I happen to come across a computer? What exactly do you need me to do in there?"
"It's a weekend, Beth. Hopefully the place will be empty. I need you to poke around a bit. I don't know what we're looking for, but the more you can find, the better."
Beth took another deep breath.
"I can't believe I'm doing this."
"I can," Stanley replied. "You're destined to be more than just a college girl who likes to have fun."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just that I've learned there's more to you than meets the eye. You're the only college kid I know whose idea of fun is reading back issues of National Geographic."
"Whatever," she said with a wave of her hand. "I better get ready."
She lifted her suitcase onto the bed, opened it, and took out the costume. She ran her fingers across the smooth fabric, before setting it down on the bed and pulling out the boots, necklace, tights, and gloves.
"As much as I'll feel silly wearing this whole ensemble, I don't want to assume the necklace is the only thing I need to wear, and find out my powers fade or something while I'm in there."
"Good idea," Stanley said.
Beth picked up the items and moved to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She stripped out of her pajamas and stood naked in front of the mirror. Beth was thankful for her slim and athletic body. She had curves, but they were the elegant and graceful curves of a skater, with modest, firm breasts. She also had muscle, but they were subtle muscles of an athlete, not a bodybuilder.
The blond woman turned her attention back to her items. She slipped on the tights, before stepping into the skating dress and pulling it up over her body. After she raised it up over her breasts, she slipped her arms into the arm holes. She reached behind her neck and grasped the smooth fabric of the collar, fastening the clasp sewn into it. Beth didn't look at herself in the mirror, instead bending down to slip the boots onto her feet.
Beth took the necklace from the counter and fastened it into place. A strange sensation rushed through her. It wasn't a physical feeling, but more of an innate sense and appreciation of the power coursing through her.
For the final step of the transformation, she pulled the gloves onto her hands and up her arms. She extended her arms out in front of her, admiring the shimmering fabric.
Beth moved to the mirror to at least brush her hair, but paused when she saw herself. Not a hair was out of place. Her blonde mane hung straight and gleaming, as if she had just returned from one of the city's best stylists. She shook her head in amazement.
She stood back and surveyed the length of her body in the mirror. She looked different now, in a way she couldn't put her finger on. When she had first worn her costume earlier in the evening, she knew she had looked good. Now, though, it was as if an invisible aura surrounded her, amplifying her presence and looks. She was sometimes oblivious to her attractiveness, but even she could sense it now.
Beth turned sideways, satisfied with the way the shimmering blue fabric clung to her firm breasts and slim stomach. The short skirt arched over her hips, barely reaching her legs. The skirt and tights showed off the legs of a skater — slender and supple, but with enough hint of muscle to suggest strength. Her forearms were thin and similarly toned.
The pristine white of the skirt and the trim around the collar added to the radiance, projecting a purity that matched the innocence of Beth's face. The innocence contrasted with the suggestive way the short skirt both clung to her and swished around her when she moved.
As she studied herself in the mirror, a calm came over her. She could do this. The fear was still there, but now only gnawed at the edges of her consciousness instead of devouring her at the core.
With a shake of the head, she exited the bathroom. Stanley sat at the desk appraising her. He nodded.
"A real-life superheroine," he said.
Beth rolled her eyes. Definitely not that. Not a walking cliche. "This is a one-time thing, Stanley."
He didn't react.
"Are you driving me there?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I need to make sure I have a good network connection, and don't get interrupted. I wish it could be another way, but you're on your own."
"Lovely."