Mod Superhero (Book 6 STUBBING on Oct 27th)

Chapter 6.52 - Too Late

Emmett watched from across the street as his other self decimated the Summit capes and what was left of the biomechs. He could barely see what happened—with his one good eye and through the barrier of heat and nanites—but he could still follow Mod's path.

Emmett sensed his counterpart's path through physical space and cyberspace. Saw the nanites swirl around him as he moved. Felt the air quake under the exchange between Siphon and Mod, and then felt as parts of the swarm wrapped around the faces of the Summit capes. And in spite of his relative blindness, Emmett saw the flash of Mod's fusion lance—the attack was so powerful that it was visible in both physical space and cyberspace. It felt like a tiny sun had been brought down to Earth and gone nova.

Maybe that was why Emmett missed it.

Emmett watched the last heavy mech fall to the ground and saw his other self tower over it. Emmett had been transported back to his childhood as he'd watched his news footage of his heroes fighting villains. Except now he was watching himself.

All this time, Emmett had looked at Mod like he was someone else. They were two separate people that just happened to share some of the same memories.

But now, Emmett looked at Mod like he was looking in a mirror. They were the same person, separated by time. Emmett was himself in the present. Mod was who he was becoming. Mod was the future that Emmett had been building all this time.

Emmett looked at his other self in awe, almost long enough to breathe a sigh of relief. He thought the battle was over.

Then Mod took off in a blur.

Toward Mom and Dad's house.

Emmett ran. His brain sped up and time slowed to a crawl. His legs felt numb and each step felt like he was trudging through snow. Milliseconds ticked by.

He'd missed it. He didn't see the three infiltration biomechs hop the chain-link fence or run through the front yard. Didn't see them when they bashed in the front door.

Emmett hadn't made it to the fence yet, but events were unfolding inside the house. Even so far away, even without sight, Emmett watched everything happen through the ripples in cyberspace.

Scattered microphones picked up their steps as the skinwalkers ran through his childhood home. They weren't pretending to be human anymore; they moved on all fours, like rabid animals, and tossed furniture aside—trying to find anyone still hiding on the main floor. Emmett saw their murderous ghosts through displaced wi-fi signals. It had to be his imagination, but their faces were twisted into sneers.

Emmett was in the yard, still running to catch up. His heart thundered in his chest.

Emmett was piecing together the aftermath. It felt like he was twenty steps behind them. Unable to catch up. Too late.

Everyone was huddled in the basement—a glorified cellar. No windows. Only one way in or out. The nephews were whimpering. Someone's hands were covering their mouths, trying to keep them quiet. Probably Maci or Darryl, maybe Mom. By now, they would've heard someone in the house above them.

But hiding was only buying them a few seconds. The biomechs already knew where they were.

Emmett kept waiting to hear voices. Waited for the mechs to call out. To lie. To trick Mom or Dad into opening up the basement door. But the skinwalkers didn't call out.

Inhuman hands kicked and wrenched at the basement door. The mechs should've pushed right through, but metal scraped and wood cracked. Emmett's family had barricaded the basement door; there was a lot of old furniture down there.