Hero Stalker

Part Thirty

Are we allowed to do this? I almost asked Slasher when we stepped onto the dock out at the bottom of CenturionTower. But the words sounded dumb. Who'd stop us?

"Get a running start and keep moving," he told me. "If you fall in, kick your legs until you get back up. Like waterskiing."

"I've never been waterskiing."

"I'm assuming you can move your legs. I'm not coming back to rescue you if you start to drown, understand? Meet me at Harrison's on West Street. It's a bar. In Governors. I'll be up on the roof." A crazy grin flashed across his face. He took a running start and shot off the dock.

Does physics allow us to do this? Because even with his blurry shadow leaving a long wake across the water, it didn't seem possible. I took two tentative steps backwards, clenched my fists, and took off.

The water felt hard as concrete where my feet struck it. Waves shattered under my steps. My legs vanished into a blur. Warmth surged through my body even as the cold, salty winds broke across my face.

Light from boats dotted the water. High ahead of me, the skyscrapers of Orignal and the financial district glittered like fireflies. The light green spire of RandolphTower rose above the rest. To the south, buildings hugged the riverbank, cozy and small. Governors sat in the middle, full of brick and steel and hipsters, the only neighborhood in Bayton that straddled The Wall.

I cut an arc to my left and glanced back at the white water flying out from behind my feet. A laugh crept out of my throat. This is what being a superhero should feel like. This is what I've been waiting for!

Concrete walls twenty feet tall buttressed the Harbor. I leapt over them. Jolts ran up my ankles as my feet hit the dirt. I nearly pitched forward, but some reflex I didn't know I had pulled my feet back underneath me.

West Street. Easy enough to find. I leapt up onto an aluminum cargo container. A line of them stretched out for half a mile.

I grinned.