Epic Zero: Books 4-6 (Epic Zero Box Set Book 2) Page 2

  “Sorry,” I say. “The whole T-Rex thing was just so intense. Plus, I ran into the Time Trotter and—”

  “The Time Trotter?” Dad says. “He was in Keystone City? But he’s a Meta 1. He couldn’t be responsible for those dinosaurs. He doesn’t have that kind of power.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought, too,” I say, “It’s kind of a long story.” I’m about to launch into my whole ordeal with the Time Trotter, his three-eyed friend, and the mysterious Cosmic Key when…

  “Alert! Alert! Alert!” the Meta Monitor blares. “Meta 2 disturbance. Repeat: Meta 2 disturbance. Power signature identified as Where-Wolf. Alert! Alert! Alert! Meta 2 disturbance. Power signature identified as Where-Wolf.”

  “Where-Wolf!” I exclaim, throwing off the covers. “He’s an Energy Manipulator who can teleport all over the place. Not to mention, he’s got a terrible dandruff problem. We’d better get—”

  “Hold on, hot shot,” Dad says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere. You need to recover. We’ll handle this one with the rest of the team.”

  “But…,” I start.

  “But nothing,” Mom says, pulling on her Ms. Understood cowl. “Rest up, Elliott. We’ll talk more about your ‘long story’ when we get back. And please, don’t go wandering off into trouble this time. Got it?”

  “Sheesh,” I say. “Fine.”

  “Dog-Gone,” Mom orders, “keep an eye on him. Sit on him if you have to.”

  Dog-Gone barks in agreement.

  “Love you,” she calls out as she leaves the room.

  “Clearly,” I mutter.

  Dog-Gone and I stare each other down while the Freedom Flyer disembarks from the Waystation.

  We’re alone.

  Okay, so I didn’t get to tell them about the weird three-eyed guy yet, but there’s no reason I can’t find out more about him myself. I carefully remove the IV from my arm, pull down the covers and step out of bed when my not-so-loyal companion growls in objection.

  Seriously?

  “Listen,” I say, “we’re not doing this.”

  Dog-Gone blocks the door with his big behind.

  “Look, when Mom told me not to go wandering off, she didn’t mean I couldn’t leave my bed. She just meant I shouldn’t leave the Waystation.”

  Dog-Gone growls again, but I really don’t have the energy to go into a full negotiation with him.

  “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. If you move, I’ll give you an entire bag of doggie treats and you can get as sick as you want. Does that work for you?”

  Dog-Gone’s tail starts wagging.

  “I thought so. Follow me.” We head into the hallway when I realize the Medi-wing is next door to the Galley. Well, that’s convenient. I grab a bag of doggie treats from the pantry and pour all the contents into a metal dog dish.

  “Knock yourself out,” I say, as Dog-Gone starts crunching away. “But if I were you, I’d pace myself. You’re cleaning up any invisi-barf.”

  With Dog-Gone busy gorging himself, I head up to the Monitor Room. If I’m going to find any information about that three-eyed villain, it’s going to be here. I hop into the command chair and punch a few buttons on the keypad. The Meta Monitor lights up.

  The Meta Monitor is the most extensive database in the world for Metas. If a bad guy used a superpower anywhere, it’ll be captured in here. I type in a few search queries: Red Skin. Three Eyes. Male.

  ​Then, I wait. I sure wish I grabbed some popcorn. Thirty seconds later, the Meta Monitor spits out:

  No Matches Found.

  ​Huh? That’s weird. Why isn’t the Meta Monitor showing anything? Hang on, it seemed like he was projecting his image from a distance. I add an additional search term: Alien.

  ​The Meta Monitor does its thing, and up pops:

  No Matches Found.

  Well, that’s strange. I don’t understand how someone could use a Meta power, but not register in the Meta Monitor’s database. I try figuring out an explanation, but I can’t come up with one. I guess I’ll ask Dad when they get back. Maybe he can think of something.

  Well, this was a dead end. I set the Meta Monitor back to auto-pilot and slide off the command chair. My legs are crazy sore, so I decide to stretch them out with a long walk.

  As I stroll down the hallway, I hear faint footsteps behind me, followed by a low whimper.

  “You ate them all, didn’t you?” I ask.

  Dog-Gone is moving slowly. He looks up and his guilty expression says it all.

  “I warned you,” I say. “You know, you have absolutely no willpower. I hope you’ve got a fast metabolism.”

  We walk in silence for a while, me trying to solve the mystery of the three-eyed man, and Dog-Gone trying not to yack, when we enter a dark corridor.

  Suddenly, I get the feeling we’re not alone. Like, we’re surrounded!

  “Who’s there—,” I start, but as soon as my eyes adjust to the darkness I’m embarrassed. We’re surrounded all right, but not because there’s a team of bad guys waiting to attack, but because we’ve wandered into the Hall of Fallen Heroes.

  The Hall of Fallen Heroes is a memorial space dedicated to honoring former members of the Freedom Force who gave their lives in the line of duty. Each hero is represented by a life-sized, bronze statue depicting them in full costume.

  There are five statues in all.

  I flick on the light switch, triggering spotlights that illuminate each one. Honestly, this area of the Waystation creeps me out. When we were younger, Grace and I would play tag all over the Waystation, but we would never come up here. We both agreed it was off limits.

  Mom, however, comes up here all the time. She says it gives her perspective whenever she needs to make tough decisions.

  There’s a giant inscription carved into the wall. It reads: True Heroes Give So Others May Live.

  I walk down the row of statues.

  First up is Rolling Thunder, a Meta 3 Energy Manipulator with the ability to shape and magnify sound. He had a handlebar moustache and wore the insignia of a sound wave stretched across his barrel-shaped chest. Dad said Rolling Thunder was a character and his laugh sounded like a sonic boom.

  Next up is Madame Meteorite, a Meta 3 Flyer who wore the symbol of a comet across her bodysuit. She was an astronaut who passed through a strange dust cloud, giving her the ability to defy gravity and glide through any atmosphere, including outer space.

  The third statue is of Robot X-treme, a Meta 3 Super-Intellect who was part-man, part-machine. Robot X-treme was a genius with a rare disease that attacked his own body. So, he transferred his brain into a seven-foot tall indestructible robot with built-in weaponry. Dad says Robot X-treme had the most brilliant mind he’s ever known, which always sends TechnocRat into a tizzy.

  Then there’s Dynamo Joe, a Meta 3 Strongman with long hair, a thick beard, and the insignia of a boxing glove on his chest. Dad said Dynamo Joe was not only a former boxing champ, but also a hippie—whatever that means. Dad brags about how he beat Dynamo Joe in an arm-wrestling match. But based on the ridiculous size of Dynamo Joe’s biceps, I’m not sure I’m buying it.

  Finally, I reach the last statue, which always gives me the chills. That’s because it’s of a girl about my age. Her name was Sunbolt, and she was a Meta 2 Energy Manipulator with the power to harness solar energy. She wore pigtails, a cape, and had the image of a sun on her top. Mom said she was brave and smart and wanted to learn everything she could to be a great hero.

  She was also Dynamo Joe’s daughter.

  I stare into her determined eyes, and for some reason, I can’t look away. Maybe it’s because she was just starting out—sort of like me.

  I’ve never really spent time with the statues before. I guess I can see why Mom comes up here so often. It’s a great reminder that playing superhero isn’t a game. It’s life or death every time you put on the cape.

  I mean, these guys sacrificed their lives being heroes.

  Could I do that?
Would I do that?

  “C’mon, Dog-Gone,” I say, heading back the way we came. The poor mutt is starting to look green.

  Then, I remember all these fallen heroes have something in common.

  They were all killed in the battle with Meta-Taker.

  The battle that created the Freedom Force.

  Thankfully, that monster is out of our lives now.

  Well, I’m no closer to solving the mystery of the three-eyed man. I’m wiped, so I head back to my room, drop my utility belt and mask on my desk, and climb into bed. I’m so tired I can’t even change out of my costume.

  As I lay my head on my pillow, I catch a glimpse of the photograph on my nightstand. It’s a picture of my family all together in costume. Of course, Grace’s shoulder is blocking half of my face.

  Nevertheless, I’m thankful my parents survived that battle with Meta-Taker.

  I close my eyes, and as I drift off to sleep, I hear the not-so-sweet sounds of Dog-Gone barfing in my bathroom.

  I FREAK OUT

  Have you ever woken up more tired than when you went to sleep? Well, that’s how I’m feeling right now.

  There’s drool running down my chin, and I can’t even lift my head off the pillow. I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but based on how heavy my body feels, I’m guessing it’s been a while.

  Mustering my strength, I roll over and squint at the alarm clock. It reads: 3:23 p.m. Wow, I’ve slept in all day! I don’t remember ever sleeping this late. I mean, Grace sleeps in all the time, but she’s a teenager, that’s her job!

  My stomach is rumbling, which isn’t surprising since I’ve missed breakfast and lunch. And speaking of food…

  “Dog-Gone?” I call out to the bathroom.

  The last thing I remember is hearing my poor pooch getting sick. Ugh, I can’t imagine what’s waiting for me in there. I wish dogs had manners, or at least better aim.

  “Dog-Gone?” I call again. “Are you okay?”

  I wait for a signal—a bark, a groan, the waving of a white flag. But there’s nothing. Since it’s so late, I bet Mom let him out of my room so he wouldn’t wake me up begging for his breakfast. After all, no matter how bad he’s feeling, Dog-Gone never misses a meal.

  Then, I notice something weird.

  The picture on my nightstand is… different?

  Instead of my family, there’s a photo of a black cat wearing a blue mask. I have no clue whose cat it is, or how it got there.

  I bet Grace is playing a prank on me. After all, I’m always busting on her for streaming hours of mindless cat videos. I bet she snuck in here while I was sleeping and swapped out my picture.

  Why are sisters so annoying?

  I pull down the covers and throw my legs over the side of the bed. With herculean effort, I trudge over to the bathroom, hoping beyond hope that Dog-Gone didn’t leave me too huge of a disaster. But as I peek inside, I’m shocked. The floor is sparkling clean!

  Now how’s that possible? I swear I heard him barfing up a storm last night. Did Mom or Dad clean it up? Whatever happened, I’m counting my lucky stars.

  I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair looks like a bird’s nest and I’m still wearing my costume. Well, most of my costume anyway. My mask is on my desk and I can’t help but notice I’m minus one cape.

  Stupid T-Rex.

  I think about showering, but my rumbling stomach objects. So, I decide I’ll grab a bite first in the Galley. Maybe I’ll catch Shadow Hawk making one of his famous peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

  I exit my room and pray I run into Dad. No one gets costumes cleaner than Dad. Plus, he’s such a stickler for detail I can count on him to sew on a new cape. I just hope he’ll do it without his usual lecture on the proper care of Meta gear.

  I enter the Galley to find Grace bent over, rummaging through the fridge. I also hear loud munching coming from beneath the dining table, which can only mean one thing—Dog-Gone is back on his furry feet.

  “I see you’re feeling better, huh?” I say, patting the table-top. “That’s great news because you looked so stuffed, I thought you were going to pop.”

  But instead of a bark, he lets out a high-pitched hiss.

  Okay, maybe he’s not feeling better.

  Grace is still digging around the refrigerator, so I lay a hand on her shoulder and say, “Nice try with that cat picture, but I knew it was—”

  Then, she wheels on me, chicken drumstick in hand.

  And I realize it’s not Grace at all.

  Her eyes are red instead of blue. And her hair is black instead of blond.

  “Who-Who are you?” I stammer.

  “Funny,” she says, her voice deeper than my sister’s, “because I was wondering the same thing about you.”

  Just then, I notice her costume isn’t crimson red with white shooting stars. It’s all black with a big skull on it!

  “You’re not Glory Girl,” I say.

  “Nope,” she says. “I’m Gory Girl.” Suddenly, a red aura emanates from her hand, and the meat on the chicken drumstick melts away, leaving only the bone!

  “Where’s the Freedom Force?” I ask.

  “The Freedom Force,” she scoffs. “We kicked those losers out years ago. Now this place belongs to us—the Freak Force.”

  The Freak Force?

  “Um, I think I woke up on the wrong side of the satellite,” I say, backing up to the entrance.

  I don’t know what’s going on, but I can tell that she’s sizing me up to be her next chicken drumstick. Time to make my exit. I bang on the dining table. “C’mon, Dog-Gone. Let’s go.”

  But instead of a German Shepherd, out steps a black cat wearing a blue mask. The thing is fluffy and huge, nearly the size of Dog-Gone. Then, I realize it’s the same cat as in the picture by my bed!

  “Stick him, Scaredy-Cat!” Gory Girl commands.

  Scaredy-Cat?

  The next thing I know, the cat’s claws extend to a ridiculous size and the feline jumps me! I flail my arms just in time, knocking it back towards Gory Girl. The cat smashes into her, and they both crash into the refrigerator in a tangled mess of hair and paws.

  Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain on my right side. I look down to see my costume is ripped from my armpit down to my waist. The cat got me! I’ve got to get out of here!

  I bolt down the hallway.

  “Get him!” Gory Girl screams.

  What the heck is going on? I’d like to think I’m dreaming, but my side hurts so much I know I’m not.

  Something has gone totally bonkers here.

  I mean, where’s my family? She said the Freak Force kicked the Freedom Force off the Waystation years ago. How is that possible?

  I head for the Monitor Room to see if I can find a familiar face, when I hear—

  “Don’t let him get away!”

  That was Gory Girl again! And it sounds like she’s rallying her troops! How could I be home, but everyone inside my home is from bizarro world?

  And then it hits me. The three-eyed man!

  He said he was going back in time.

  Did he stop the heroes like he said he was going to do? Did he alter the course of history?

  But if that’s the case, how am I still here?

  I reach the Monitor Room stairwell and I’m about to go up, when I see a pair of boots coming down.

  “I’ll find him!” comes a voice.

  Gotta move!

  I book down the hall. If the Freak Force are the only Metas here, then all these guys must be villains.

  Just. Freaking. Wonderful.

  Well, if that’s the case I know one thing, I can’t stay here. So, the question becomes, what’s the fastest way off a satellite orbiting Earth?

  It’s useless heading for the Mission Room or the Combat Room because they’re both dead ends. I could go for the Hangar to nab a Freedom Flyer or Ferry, but what if they’re all gone? Another option is the Transporter Room, but if the timestream is screwed up I could be trapped on a world
filled with villains or worse.

  Then, I get a terrifying thought.

  What if going anywhere is useless?

  I mean, if my timestream is screwed up, the only way to fix it is to go back into the past myself. But how?

  I sure wish TechnocRat was here. I know I gave him a hard time, but he’d whip up something in his lab and… and…

  That’s it!

  I’ve got a plan!

  I double back the way I came, running past the Galley and sprinting towards the West Wing. I spot more villains out of the corner of my eye, but I’m not planning on dropping in for a chat. Instead, I huff and puff to my final destination.

  TechnocRat’s laboratory.

  Even though the Freedom Force isn’t here anymore, it looks like the lab still is. But the doors are closed and there’s yellow cautionary tape on the outside that reads: DANGER. DO NOT ENTER.

  Danger? That’s weird.

  But I’m not going to let some warning tape stop me, because my only escape route is inside that room. At least, I’m hoping it’s inside. Of course, if I’m wrong, I’ve just made the worst decision of my life.

  I reach for the keypad, when I notice it’s covered in dust. Wait a second, Gory Girl said they kicked the Freedom Force out years ago. So, is it possible no one’s been in TechnocRat’s lab since then?

  I read the warnings on the yellow tape again.

  Then, I notice the carpet next to me is singed black.

  Suddenly, it clicks!

  No one on the Freak Force knows the passcode to TechnocRat’s lab. And just like the Vault, TechnocRat boobytrapped the entrance if you input three incorrect codes. Fortunately, I know what the code is.

  I’m about to start typing when I hear a high-pitched HISS. I turn to find a black cat sitting in the hallway, licking his paws and watching me through the narrow slits of his blue mask.

  What was that superstition about black cats again?

  “Listen,” I plead. “I’ll give you all the doggie—I mean, kitty snacks you want. Just let me go, okay?”

  But Scaredy-Cat just keeps on licking, his tail swaying back and forth like a cobra preparing to strike.

  I need to up the ante.

  “Okay,” I say. “How about you let me go, and after I solve this little mix-up, I’ll bring you a tasty rat from my timestream. He might be a little bitter going down, but he’s totally worth it. Deal?”