Heroes Not Wanted

Chapter 4: Saving Hal

Art got the two young women into his van and drove down the street. Fire and rescue were zooming through town towards the destroyed neighborhood, and Art abided by the rules—he pulled out of the way and waited. However, he seethed at the delay, and his wife was absently twirling a vine around her finger. "Can't you just go?" she asked impatiently as a third firetruck flew past.

"And get us arrested?" Art retorted. His black van had been a little scorched, but otherwise unharmed. It wasn't specifically made for Art for nothing. "Not a good plan. The more of a delay at finding Hal there is, the more chance of him getting found and killed there will be."

A vine slapped the back of his head. "Don't be patronizing," she warned him.

"Turn right up here," Diana interrupted. "And hurry. He's going into shock, I think."

"Can't have that," Art muttered. He pulled a hasty right, nearly clipping the curb. "Any sign of pursuit, honey?"

Storm glared at him. "Not yet, dear."

An exasperated sigh came from the backseat of the van. "Are you two always arguing?" Diana asked.

"No," Art said.

"Yes," Storm put in at the same time. Art took his eyes off the road to glare at her, and he paid for it. "Watch where you're going!" his wife shouted.

Seconds later, he slammed into a car and all three of them were jerked forward. Again, Art was glad that he had his practically-indestructible van. However, the other car was smashed to a pulp. "Oops," he said.

"Oops?" Storm looked like the top of her head was going to pop off. "For Pete's sake, Art, we were supposed to avoid drawing attention!"

Art sighed and got out of the van. "You two go after Hal," he said. "I'll deal with this."

. . . . . . . . . .

Only a few minutes later, Hal felt someone lay a hand on his shoulder. He blinked blearily, raising his red-rimmed eyes to the blonde girl kneeling in front of him. "Di?" he said, licking his dry lips. For some reason, he felt ill and uncertain.

The girl gently brushed his red hair from his sweaty forehead. "It's me," she said. "Diana. I've brought help. Please, just sit there, don't do anything."

The woman from the disaster on Hal's street knelt down beside Diana. She dug into a bag she was carrying and produced a jar of something. "This is a salve made by our best medics," she explained. "And trust me—we've got amazing medics and scientists. You should be feeling better within two hours." Gently, Thorn moved his shirt aside to get at the hole in his stomach.

As Thorn spread the salve over the injury, Hal saw Diana glance over her shoulder nervously. "Something's wrong with Eagle," she reported.

Hal felt Thorn's fingers stiffen before she resumed the soothing movement. It felt cooling and soothing while still stinging painfully at the same time. Hal grimaced. "Keep me posted," she said. "There was something fishy about that car. We're going to need to be ready to beat a hasty retreat if necessary."

"How do you know?" Hal asked Diana.

The girl gave a shy sort of smile. "I can read minds."

Hal stared at her. Every embarrassing thought he'd ever had about Diana and while he was with her passed through his mind in seconds. Panic settled into his mind when he remembered all the times he'd thought about how he was taking advantage of her. "Oh gosh," he rasped out. No boy ever wants to hear that a girl has read his every single thought.