“It’s been a long, hard struggle to bring
Dobbling Chemicals here to Fullerton. But three years and
sixty-eight million dollars later, we’re here to celebrate the grand
opening of the industry’s newest and most anticipated member of
Dobbling Enterprises.”
“Joining me today is the person everyone
credits with this endeavor, Miss Brenda McKay, head of Design and
Development for Dobbling. How does it feel, Ms. McKay, to finally
see the results after such a hard-fought battle?”
The reporter stuck the microphone in
Brenda’s face, narrowly missing hitting her in the nose. Brenda
instinctively jerked her head back to avoid it, then wondered how
the whole thing looked on national television. Pasting on one of her
patented company smiles, she replied. “It’s a dream come true,
Karen! Dobbling Chemicals is quickly becoming well-respected and
honored for its discovery and manufacturing of seco-resonant
plastics.”
“Plastics that are rapidly growing in demand
from all sectors of the retail market, as well as for military use,
isn’t that correct?”
For military use.
The phrase acted like a code word, instantly putting Brenda on full
alert. If the reporter was hoping for some juicy tidbits to verify
the rumors that Dobbling was being courted by the Pentagon, she was
going to be sorely disappointed.
“I don’t know about any military purposes,”
she smoothly contradicted. “But we have some applications coming up
that we feel will completely revolutionize the field of medicine.”
That comment got a sparkle in the reporter’s
eyes. It was enough to get the woman off of the topic of the
military for at least the next question.
“By medical, are you talking about surgical
or preventative, or...”
“Pharmaceutical,” Brenda offered. “Although
I can’t say anything more at this time.”
The reporter nodded, taking her mic back and
turning to face the camera. “Dobbling Chemicals has already hired
sixty new employees from this area, and plans to hire at least sixty
more. Which is why the town of Fullerton welcomes them with open
arms, as this company pumps fresh blood and dollars into its tired
economy. Reporting for Channel Eight Eyewitness News, I’m Karen
Fox.”
Brenda stood off to the side to thank the
woman once the camera man killed the feed. It was always good policy
to brown nose the news media. It helped to keep them as close
bedfellows, which in turn kept public opinion swayed toward the
positive when it came to big business ventures like Dobbling
Enterprises. The common man off the street had a natural aversion to
big businesses, no thanks to huge corporations who squandered
billions of dollars in the past, then expected Mr. Common Man to
help bail them out. And then, once the bail out came through,
basically gave their saviors the shaft as thanks.
Which was why she had the kind of job she
had. Behind her pretty girl-next-door face and her home grown
manners, she had a sharp brain and keen eye for dealing with the
public.
The reporter raised an eyebrow to see her
still standing there. Brenda gave the woman a warm smile. “Thank you
again for the interview. If you don’t mind...” She handed the woman
her business card. “Send me an email. That way when I’m ready to
release more information, I can get in touch with you.”
“Thanks.” The woman accepted the card,
barely glancing at it as her camera man relieved her of her
microphone. “Say, is it true you’re from Fullerton?”
“Born and raised here. It wasn’t until I
graduated from Fullerton High that I finally left town to go to
college.”
“Bet you’re especially excited to see this
company come in then, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea,” Brenda lightly laughed,
then glanced at her watch. It was usually a ploy to end the
conversation before it went any further, although the reporter
didn’t need to know that. But this time it was also the truth. “Oh,
my. I lost track of time. I’m late. I’m sorry, but I need to go. I
have another appointment. Don’t forget to email me!” With a little
wave, Brenda turned to hurry back to where the small crowd was
gathered at the front of the main building for the ribbon cutting.
The explosion was unexpected and
devastating. Wood slivers and chunks of brick shot outward, filling
the air first with dust and particles, then with lethal intent as
poison began to fill the sky. People screamed as shrapnel-like
material rocketed from the heart of the factory. An instant later,
another thunderous boom of released energy destroyed what was left
of the walls and windows. The roof literally melted like wet cotton
candy.
Pandemonium ensued. Workers ran for their
lives, but the caustic gas was faster, and people fell, overcome by
the burning fumes which robbed them of breath. Brenda saw the flames
ripping through the top of the building, and immediately knew the
worst had happened. She turned to race for safety just as the wall
of sound and debris swept over her and the rest of the crowd.
Up ahead she caught sight of the news van.
The camera man was about to close the door when he spotted her and
frantically waved at her, urging her to hurry. She screamed as her
eardrums threatened to burst, and she fell into the open door of the
vehicle as a scalding chunk of plaster narrowly missed striking her
in the head. Somehow she managed to crawl over the carpeted interior
until she was far enough inside as the camera man gave the door a
hard tug. The van’s side cargo hatch smoothly slid shut with a
satisfying slam.
Behind her, the reporter wheezed as she
fought for air. They all were gasping. Through weeping eyes, Brenda
watched as the camera man hit a switch on a panel of switches and TV
screens, and tried to croak out a plea for help. Something in the
fumes was making their throats constrict and burn. She panicked to
think they could end up suffocating to death.
Her ears were still ringing from the blast.
Shrugging off her jacket, she held it up to her nose, hoping it
might help alleviate some of the fumes. Wiping her eyes with the
sleeve of her blouse, she rose up until she could peer over the
seats in the front of the van, but there was little to see beyond
the windshield. The yellowish cloud continued to boil, totally
obliterating everything from sight.
“Miss McKay.”
Her head whipped around to stare at the man
huddled behind her. The reporter lay unconscious on the carpet next
to him. The man’s dark complexion had turned almost ghost white.
“Call me Brenda,” she half-coughed. “And you
are...”
“Alan.”
“Good to meet you, Alan. Sorry it had to be
under these conditions.”
The remark earned her a wan smile as the man
coughed behind a hand. “It’s too quiet out there,” he managed to
gasp.
The realization froze her blood. Too quiet.
He was right. The screaming had stopped. An image of the ground
littered with bodies flashed through her mind.
Oh, God, no. It was too horrible to even
consider, but there was no telling what all had been in those fumes.
The air could still be toxic. Oh, God, and it
could be heading into town!
"Quick! Can you tell which w-way the wind's blowing?"
"Hell if I know."
“Can you drive us out of here?”
“Which way?” the man asked, pointing out the
windshield. “That stuff’s like s-soup. You can see past two inches
out there.”
“Well, we can’t stay here. Can you reach the
TV station? Can you broadcast out? Call for help?”
“The blast must’ve taken out the antenna. I
can’t even get a signal. We’re stuck here.”
“Don’t say that,” Brenda gasped. Breathing
was like trying to suck air through a tiny straw. The harder she
tried, the sides of the straw would collapse, blocking the flow. It
took great effort to calm herself and inhale slowly. She watched as
Alan struggled like her.
“We can’t stay here,” she repeated, when the
camera man held up a hand for silence. He was receiving something
through his earpiece. Brenda strained to listen. “What?” she
whispered.
After a few more seconds, Alan shook his
head. “I thought I heard something.”
“From the TV station?”
“No. Outside. There’s a microphone in the
base of the antenna.”
“What kind of something? Could it be
someone? Someone alive?” Maybe everyone outside wasn’t dead. She
could only pray.
Without warning, the van lurched to one
side. Brenda gave a squeal of fright, and Alan yelled as they
grabbed for something to hold on to so they wouldn’t be pitched
about inside the interior of the van like loose marbles in a can.
The vehicle bounced again, ending upright. Alan’s eyes widened, and
he pointed out the front.
“Look!”
The yellowish cloud was dissipating. No.
Brenda swiped the tears again from her eyes and tried to get a
better look. No, it appeared as if the cloud was being blown away.
Almost like it was being...fanned?
There was a movement at the far edge of the
windshield. She crawled to the front of the van with Alan right
behind her. Together they stared at the area where they could barely
make out someone, a figure, standing not too far from them. As the
fumes rolled away, they were finally able to see a man.
Brenda gasped in shock and delight. Yes, it
was a man. A very well-built man, with a wide chest, and small waist
and hips, and long, muscular legs. A total stranger wearing a shiny
black leather-looking jacket and pants. What appeared to initially
be black paint across his face was actually a mask.
But what was more astonishing was the fact
that this man was gripping two of the factory’s huge steel doors,
one in each hand, and was waving them up and down like enormous
fans, breaking up the yellow cloud with a speed and skill that was
astonishing to watch.
“Who...the...hell?” Alan’s hushed voice
commented over her shoulder.
“It looks like we have a new superhero,” she
said in awe.
“Are you shitting me?”
“Infinity’s been gone, what? Sixteen years?”
She started to smile. A new superhero. It was almost too good to be
true.
She gave a quick glance at the area around
them and saw the fumes were almost all gone. As much as she would
love to remain there watching this mysterious stranger in black save
the day, she knew they needed to seek medical attention, especially
for the reporter who remained unconscious.
“Damn! Will you look at the guy? Those doors
have to be at least four inches thick and solid steel. I bet they
weigh at least seven or eight hundred pounds each, and he’s waving
them like playing cards!”
“Alan!”
Her tone got his attention.
“We have to get her to the nearest hospital,
and we need be checked out, too,” she told him, gesturing toward the
reporter. “Monning Clinic is about four blocks away. Can you drive
us there now? I’ll show you the way.”
The camera man never got the chance to
answer when the van’s side door slid open.
“Anyone in here needing immediate medical
attention?” Dark blue eyes slid over Brenda before darting to the
camera man, who was already lifting the reporter into his arms.
“Here.”
The woman was transferred to the arms of the
black clad man, and a prick of unexpected jealousy went through
Brenda.
“Can you two make it over to the hospital on
your own?” the man asked. His voice was rich and deep, and sent
shivers through her. His glanced paused below her waist. “Better get
that taken care of as soon as you get there,” he added.
Brenda looked down, noticing for the first
time that her leg was bleeding. At some point she’d ripped her pants
and cut herself during the explosion. “Okay.” It sounded lame, but
it was the best she could do at the moment.
At Alan’s nod to his previous question, the
superhero backed away from the vehicle. In the next second, he
lifted off of the ground and flew away.
Brenda hopped out of the van to watch him go
until he disappeared in the distance. Her body felt as though she
was holding onto an electric fence, and the current was setting off
fireworks in her bloodstream. The moment the man had set his eyes on
her, it was as though time and the universe had come to a screeching
halt. At the same time, she could feel herself growing wet between
the thighs.
This man had called to her in the most
primal way, and she had no idea who he was, or even what his name
was. But she would find out. Whatever it took, she would find out,
one way or another, if it was the last thing she ever did.
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