Wayward Soldiers

After nearly an hour of questioning the teenager handcuffed to the table across from him, Detective Mare, a forty-something year old man, slightly overweight, with short hair edging too close to gray for his liking dropped the young man's file on the table, "So the mask. the costume. Do you really think you can make a difference by becoming a vigilante? You're a smart kid, why not become a politician or join the police force. You could change so many things from within the system."

The boy sat up and looked toward the two-way mirror, "It was never about making a difference. Politicians promise to make the world a better place with their policies. Supervillains vow to cut people free from law and order, which they see as shackles. Groups like the avengers, and the X-Men swear to protect humanity so that peace can be maintained."

"And what's wrong with that?" the detective said with a smile, "Shouldn't people strive to change the world if they think something is wrong? Isn't that why you wore the mask in the first place?"

"The world changes too fast for anyone to control how it progresses," the boy looked the detective straight in the eye, "The best we can do is help each other the best we can."

The detective knew that look. That fierce stare of determination, yet so filled with hardship. He had seen it in the eyes of so many young vigilantes that would later become heroes, but too often had he also seen them in the eyes of future villains, so he asked the question that he had asked so many like-minded youngsters before, "And if you fail?"

The boy looked down at the handcuffs on his wrists and let out a deep sigh….

Chapter 1: A City of Their Own

The 3,000 students of Brighton High School had been called into the school's annual assembly to discuss superpowered beings in today's society. On stage the guest speaker lawyer and anti-super activist Donald Dodson, a towering man with a strong build a his black hair cut in a military style crew cut, was giving a heated speech about the dangers of mutants and the measures that needed to be taken to ensure "normal society's" safety, while his wife Delia, petite with a blonde bob cut, controlled a powerpoint presentation showing questionable acts carried out by superpowered heroes and villains alike.

"These things," Donald said with a calmness that gave his words an unsettling feeling, "are a menace to society. They don't feel the need to follow our laws, laws that have been put into place to protect you," he paused, letting his point sink in, before continuing, "mutant groups such as the X-Men have caused billions of dollars in destruction, and allow their members, superpowered beings with complete disregard for human life and law, to run free…unchecked in society, where their thoughtless attitudes put upstanding citizens, such as yourselves, at risk every day."

The student body sat on the edges of their seats, as they did every fall during the Dodson's speech. Brighton City had long been known for its anti-super attitude, and Donald and Delia were at the movement's forefront. They had, on numerous occasions, successfully convinced the local government to sign certain bills to ensure that any superpowered being could never make Brighton their home.

But, at the very back of the auditorium, a young man with unkempt blonde hair, mostly hidden beneath his red sweatshirt's hoodie sat as low as he could in his chair, waiting for the assembly to end, "Just a few more minutes," he said quietly under his breath, "just a few more minutes and I'll be free from this speech forever." Terry, while he would never have called himself a supporter of equal rights for supers, couldn't really see the justification for treating all supers as villains. But with four years of college at Stanford ahead of him, Terry wasn't about to cross the ideals of his classmates, let alone his parents, who would be paying his tuition, because of a difference in opinion. "Just wait it out," he said to himself, "then I can be away from all of this."

At the end of the speech questions were opened, but Terry had long since stopped paying attention. Every year it was the same, "What should we do if we think someone is a mutant?" "I think my friends support the Avengers, what should I do?"

But then a girl with dyed blue and black hair—and a Junior, Terry figured based on her seat in the middle of the auditorium—walked up to the microphone and asked a question that had probably never been raised, or even imagined by any student of Brighton High School since these assemblies began, "Have you ever considered that your fear mongering may play a part in young supers turning to crime or vigilantism?" Terry saw Donald's jaw drop at the suggestion, but before he could rebut the claim, the girl pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and continued, "For example, the bill that most recently got signed into law in our city states that no being with superpowers, be they extraterrestrial, mutant, or of any other origin, may attend publicly funded schools within Brighton." She lowered the paper and continued, "If you refuse these children an education, it makes sense that, without other options, they'd either fall to crime or seek refuge from certain groups."

Donald stared at the girl, lost for words and angry, so Delia stepped up to the microphone, "My girl, you are young. You have not yet seen the terror that supers bring down upon us. They have betrayed our trust, and until they earn our trust again, it is our duty, as adults, to protect our children."

"But—" The girl tried to counter, but Delia cut her off.

"Now, that is all the time we have for today, so until next year, goodbye and stay vigilant." Delia and Donald walked off stage as the student body, save for Terry and the junior erupted into applause.

After the assembly Terry tried to find the girl, but she had managed to slip from sight, which Terry found to be quite the feat considering her dyed hair in a school filled with straight laced, by the book rich kids. So, wanting to leave school after yet another boring assembly, Terry grabbed what books he needed from his locker, shoved them in his backpack, and made his way out the front of the school.

Terry was the only senior at his school without a car. It was almost a Brighton High School tradition for 17 year olds to get their first car for their birthday, but Terry's parents had instead offered him a free ride to any school he got accepted into, rather than the previously agreed upon, much closer to home MIT. So, wanting to ensure as much distance as he could between him and his parents, Terry accepted the deal and worked his way into Stanford. And while at first he had felt inconvenienced by not having a car, he had quickly grown accustomed to walking the streets of Brighton City, and didn't feel like he had a target painted on him whenever he went to some of the seedier districts of the city.

Another benefit was that it opened him up to a few of the smaller businesses on the edge of District 1 where he lived. It may have put him about an hour from home, but going to The Diner, as bland as the name sounded, was the highlight of his after school activities because apart from the amazing, albeit overly greasy food, The Diner gave him a bit of time every day to get away from his Brighton life.

"Yo, Terry," a loud, boisterous voice called, "Good to see yah," a young man, about Terry's age, ran up to him and gave him a friendly jab to the ribs with his elbow.

"Hey, Vik, what's up?" Terry had met Vik when he got lost in District 3, a district with a high crime rate that combined with its proximity to District 1 has made it something of a nightmare to the parents and students of Brighton High School. But Terry, in one of his early days of exploring the previous year had stumbled into the heart of the district and had nearly walked into the middle of some inter-gang dispute when Vik saved his neck.

Since then, Vik would, on occasion, meet up with Terry at The Diner. Terry would get a break from the high school socialites, and Vik would get a free meal.

"Not much," Vik said as he walked alongside Terry, "a few more riots since we last met up, so nothing out of the ordinary."

"Sounds rough. You handling everything okay?"

Vik shot Terry a toothy grin, "Please, riots are riots. People go crazy for an hour or so, the police come in, the riot falls apart and life goes on. As long as you stay out of the crossfire you're golden."

"And the gangs?" At this, Vik dropped his smile and cast his eyes downward, "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't—"

"No, it's fine," Vik cut him off, "it's just the reality of where I come from." Vik's dad had been a member of The Vultures, a gang formed in an attempt to take control of the district from the police. But about three years back, the group split between those who wanted to rule the city, and those who wanted to break away from the original ideal and help the police in any way they could. His father, a member of the latter, had unfortunately met his untimely demise during a drive-by, and since then there has been an all out war between the two sides: the Vultures and those who broke away, the hounds; given their names because of their supposed kneeling to the law.

The two continued in silence until they reached the diner, at which point Vik regained his normal cheery demeanor. "Come on," he said, "it's not safe for me to stay out too late, and I've been looking forward to this meal all day."

The two stepped inside and greeted the waitress who led them to a booth and handed them menus. However, without looking at the menu, Terry ordered two Philly cheese steaks and cokes for the two of them.

Terry took a glimpse at the news where they were talking about progress on the investigation of some fire on the outskirts of the city in which the owners of the house, a husband and wife in their early fifties, had perished. A picture of the girl, a bit younger that Terry with long red hair and freckles, popped up on the screen and he heard them mention that the teenaged daughter of the two was the main suspect, but before he could catch the next part, the waitress arrived with their food.

"I always wondered," Vik said as he chewed his first bite of the sandwich, "if we're in New Jersey, why do they still call it a Philly cheese steak? Shouldn't it be a Jersey Cheese steak, or a Brighton cheese steak or something?" Vik had always come up with strange things to talk about. Per usual, Terry, rather than humoring him with a suggestion, simply shrugged.

"You know," Vik said after downing another chunk of sandwich, "you take yourself too seriously sometimes. You're like those anti-mutant people on T.V, you know the 'They walk among you,' people," he said this is a zombie-like voice that make Terry crack a smile, "There we go. You see, funny is good, funny is healthy."

"Speaking of them, we had our assembly today. You know, the anti-super assembly?"

"Oh?" Vik raised an eyebrow. Normally Terry hated discussing these sorts of things.

"Yeah," Terry said as he put down his half eaten sandwich and wiped his hands on a napkin, "you know the drill. Mutants this, aliens that. Nothing you don't see on the news or read in the papers."

"It's all bullshit," Vik said with a hint of poison in his voice.

"What would you know? Supers haven't been spotted anywhere near the county ever since Brighton City passed those laws."

"That's what you think," Vik said as he leaned in. Terry leaned in as well, so that Vik could drop his voice, "They only haven't been seen where the police want to look. There has been talk of a couple of supers hanging out in the sewers beneath my district. And there may even be one at my school."

"Mutant?"

"I don't know. But rumors have been going around about a girl who's been walking through walls to get out of school without teachers noticing her."

"If her goal is to be inconspicuous she doesn't seem to be doing so well," Terry folded his hands and rested his chin on top of them. "Are you sure these rumors are true? I mean, that just sounds like someone may be spreading rumors about that Shadowcat from the X-men or something."

"Why," Vik raised an eyebrow questioningly, "what's got you so interested in supers today, Terry? Normally you try to dodge the subject."

Terry thought for a moment, considering hiding the truth from Vik, but saw no reason to keep it a secret, "There was this girl at the assembly today. After the speakers opened up for questions she actually asked a question opposing the current state of things."

"So what," Vik said, unimpressed, "I don't know how things work in your neck of the woods, but in the real world people have their own opinions."

"Yeah, but not like this. Three thousand students, and not a single one thought that anything the speakers had to say was anything but gold. Except for her."

"And you didn't recognize her?"

"No, I don't think I'd ever seen her in my life. But in a school that large, that's not so strange."

"Are you sure she is actually a student at your school? Maybe she snuck in?"

"Vik, my school has more security than any other school in the country. To sneak in you'd have to…" An idea had struck Terry, stopping him in the middle of his sentence.

"You'd have to what?" Vik asked confused as to why Terry stopped.

"That girl you mentioned. You said she is able to walk through walls?"

"Hey, it's only rumors and speculation," Vik said as he leaned back, "Even if they are true, why is this so important? And why would she sneak into your school anyway? Sounds like a lame way to use a power."

"Look, it's like I said, everyone in my school thinks the exact same way. The students the parents….all of them follow the word of the Dods….of those guys like they were reciting the damn bible. If this girl is a super, why wouldn't she want to try to get people in my school to challenge the normal viewpoint?"

"You think it's a resistance movement?"

"What else?"

"Well," Vik said, "she could just be trolling."

"Maybe, but it's worth a look." Terry pulled out his wallet and left a twenty, "Keep the change," he shouted to the waitress as he rushed to the door.

"Wait," Vik said as he picked up Terry's unfinished sandwich and followed him outside. "What are you talking about," he said as Terry put something from his backpack into his pocket and checked his watch.

"It's only four o'clock. That means we have an hour to investigate."

"Investigate," Vik asked, "Investigate what?"

"This girl. Look, your school has a yearbook, right?"

"Yeah, but no one ever buys one. Too expensive. Only the library's got one."

"Well, then we'll just have to go to your library," Terry said as he started making his way to the border between the districts, "Come on, we don't have much time."

"Hold up," Vik said, "it's not safe, especially for you. Once five o'clock rolls around, the creeps come out, and I don't want your blood, or mine, splattered against the wall of a back alley."

"Then we'll just have to hurry? The faster we get the book, the sooner we can leave."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I go in alone," Terry said with a smirk, and he stared down his friend.

"Fine," Vik said defeated, "But you owe me big after this." He poked Terry hard in the chest.

"I always have," Terry said with a smile, and the two started running.

It took them about ten minutes to reach the school, but as Terry made his way up the stairs to the front entrance, Vik stopped him, "No," he said, "you aren't a student here. If you try to go in, security will stop you. We have to go through the gymnasium." Vik led Terry around the side of the school, through a heavily graffitied asphalt basketball court.

"There won't be any security here?" Terry asked.

"Not if we go through there," Vik pointed up to a window above a ledge two stories up, "We keep it unlocked so that we can get out if anything's going down. Can you climb?"

"Yeah, no problem," Terry said with confidence as he started climbing up the side of the building, using the spaces where bricks had been missing to hoist himself up to the ledge where he held himself up triumphantly. "Six years of summer camp," he bragged, though being just over six feet tall admittedly helped a bit, "Need any help?"

With a cocky smile, Vik took a step back before jumping toward the wall, catching his foot in some foothold, and pushed himself up to the ledge with another step and a quick jump, where he hung beside Terry. "Now would be the time to make a black joke," he said with a smile. "Seventeen years on the streets will teach you to get around quickly," he said as he pushed the window open and pulled himself through. "Now for the hard part," He extended his hand and helped Terry up.

"No kidding," Terry said as he looked down at the two-story drop, "That's quite the fall."

And with that, Vik dropped off from the window sill and landed cleanly below, "Just don't think too much, and don't force yourself against the impact. If you tense up, you'll screw up an ankle or something."

"Isn't there a latter or something?" Terry asked, as worry started settling in. Climbing up was one thing, but dropping down was not something Terry had thought he would have to do.

"Not if you want to make it home without a bullet in your gut."

"Okay," Terry said to himself, "You can do this." He took a deep breath and readied himself, but pulled out at the last second. "No, I can't do this."

"Well, you have two choices," Vik said, growing impatient, "You can either jump and try to make the landing, or you can go back the way you came, climb down, and never figure out if that girl you saw goes to this school.

"Well, it's not that important, I could just—"

"Terry," Vik raised his voice, "you already dragged me back to this school. I swear to God, if you don't jump down in the next ten seconds I'm coming up there and throwing you down myself."

For a moment Terry thought his friend was joking, but Vik's glare told him otherwise, so he pushed himself from the ledge. Terry felt as if the fall were happening in slow motion. The ground seemed to be approaching him much slower than he imagined, and for a moment he thought to himself, "Huh, this isn't that bad," but just then, his toes made contact with the floor, and everything flew back into real time, and he fell flat on his face.

"Not bad for your first time," Vik said as he helped Terry to his feet, "that'll bruise nicely."

"You don't say?" Terry said bitterly as his eye started throbbing.

"Don't worry. As far as I, and everyone who asks you about it is concerned, you got that soon to be shiner protecting some poor damsel in distress. Now," Vik said with a clap of his hands, "to the library."

By the time they made it to the library, half an hour had already passed, "Hey Vik, when you say the creeps come out at five, you didn't mean that literally, did you?"

"No, I did. It's like clockwork. I have no idea why, but it's just the way it is. One second," Vik ran to the back of the library and quickly returned with a book in hand, "This year's yearbook, hot off the press," he tossed it to Terry who walked over to a desk and sat down and started flipping through the freshman pages, thankful that they were in color.

"Do you have any idea what year she is in?" Vik asked.

"No clue," Terry said, "She was sitting with the junior class, but if she doesn't go to my school, there's no way of knowing how old she actually is."

"Well, describe her. Maybe I can help you out."

Terry stopped going through the book and thought for a moment, "Dyed blue and black hair, skinny."

"Congratulations, you've just described half of the white girls in this school. Anything else?"

Terry thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind, so he shook his head.

"Height, race, boob size?"

"Medium height," Terry said unsure, "Asian, I guess." He stopped there, but Vik gave him a look, so he answered the last question, "I don't know, B-cups?"

"Junior year."

"What, you know her by that?" Terry knew that Vik was always a little perverse when it came to how he recognized a girl, but this was toeing the line between creepy and practical.

"I wouldn't know her name, but I think I know who you're talking about. Junior year," he repeated, and Terry turned to the class. It took him a while, but he managed to find the girl: blue hair and everything.

"Haruko Nakamura," Terry said.

"Oh the Chinese girl, I knew I recognized her."

"She's Japanese," Terry corrected him.

"Chinese, Japanese, whatever," Vik picked up Terry's wrist and looked at his watch, "Look, we've got about 15 minutes to bolt out of here as fast as we can, so let's shift it." He started pulling Terry up.

"Hold on, does your school have a copy machine or anything?"

Vik let out an annoyed grunt and pulled a switchblade from his pocket. He flicked the knife open and cut the picture out of the book and flicked it toward Terry, who stuck it in his wallet. "There's your copy, now move it." He pulled hard on Terry, forcing him to his feet, and the two sprinted out the front gate, leaving the lone security guard in the dust. Though before he was out of sight, Terry could have sworn he was far more heavily armed than a school security guard should have been.

"Hey, slow down Vik," Terry said as he struggled to keep up. He wrenched his wrist free and slowed down to a more comfortable pace.

"We can't slow down." Vik said, growing more and more frantic.

"Relax, what's the worst that can happen if it takes us five extra minutes?" Terry stopped in his tracks, causing Vik to skid to a halt.

"Relax?" Vik said angrily as he marched toward Terry and grabbed him by the collar, "this isn't some game, Terry. This is your life that's on the line, and if I don't get you out of here your blood is gonna be on my hands, and I am not gonna let that happen." He turned to the side, "I should never have brought you here," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"As long as we avoid the crowd we should be fine though, shouldn't we? Besides, I can see District 1 from here, if we just—" The last thing Terry saw was Vik's fist coming toward his face.

When he woke up he was propped up against The Diner with a massive headache and his left eye hurting far worse than it had when he fell on it earlier. He looked at his watch, "6 o'clock," he said, "shit, I need to get home," he stood up, but the pain in his head made his vision blur and he nearly fell to the ground, but with the aid of the wall he steadied himself and slowly started his trek home.

He didn't make it far before he heard groaning coming from an alleyway. He considered ignoring it and going on his way, but a second, louder groan told him that whomever this was really needed help, "Hello?" he said sheepishly down the alley, but he got no reply, "Are you okay?" he said slightly louder, yet he heard no response.

He bit his lip, and tried convincing himself that he should just walk away, but as much as he wanted to just get home, he couldn't just leave whoever was alone in an alley, so he gulped down the lump in his throat and started walking toward the voice.

He found her tucked behind a dumpster, wrapped in a sheet, and by the looks of it nothing else. Moreover, her face and shoulders, the only parts of her body he could see, were covered in bruises, and sweat was pouring down her face. He reached out a hand to feel her forehead to see if she had a fever, but she whimpered, and tried to push him away with her feet, but did not have the strength to resist him, "It's okay," he said in a calm voice, "I'm not going to hurt you," he placed his hand on her forehead, "my god, you're burning up. I'm going to call for help okay?"

Terry pulled out his cell phone and was about to call for help, when he felt something cold and sharp against the side of his neck, "Make that call, and it'll be the last thing you do."

Terry dropped his phone and out of the corner of his eye saw two men, one black, one white, wearing black hoodies. The white man had a knife to his throat and the black man stood a few feet back, though Terry was unable to see exactly what he was doing, but whatever it was, he didn't want to be around to find out. So, when the white man turned his head to ask, "What should I do with the boy?" Terry reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular gadget, about the size of a flash drive, pressed the two metal prongs at the end into the white man, and pressed the button on the top, sending an electric current through whatever part of his body he made contact with. The man screamed in pain before Terry threw his head back into the man's knows with a solid crunch, knocking the man unconscious and making Terry see double.

"Kid," the black man said calmly as he reached into his pocket, "I'd stop if I were you."

But Terry, determined not to let these men do whatever they intended to him or the girl, charged at him and threw the hardest punch he could muster.

He missed.

He had aimed for the man's face, but ended up hitting nothing but air, and the man brought his knee swiftly up into Terry's stomach, dropping him straight to the ground. Terry had never punched anyone before, and this was exactly why.

Terry pushed himself off the ground, but froze when he heard a click by his ear, "Kid, if you know what's best, stay down." He couldn't move. After all the courage he had worked up to do what he had just done, he couldn't move a muscle. "Now I'm sorry about this. But you've seen my face. And I can't let you report me to the authorities."

Terry closed his eyes and felt tears starting to well up in his eyes. 'Stupid' he thought, 'how could you have been so stupid? You should have just walked away, why didn't you just walk away?'

He grit his teeth, preparing for the worst, when suddenly he felt as if the temperature has risen to a blazing heat. "NOOO!" he heard a girl scream, and he looked up to see the girl, her body covered in flames, walking toward him and the man.

"Stay back," the man said as he pushed the gun harder against Terry's head, "I mean it." There was only fear in his voice.

The girl looked at Terry and said, "Duck," and he nearly didn't react in time. She threw a jet of flame at the man, engulfing him in fire, and Terry started to pull away from his grip, but not before a shot went off and caught him in the shoulder.

"FUCK" he screamed out as the man fell to the ground as nothing more than a burnt husk, "he shot me." Terry always thought that being shot be painful, but not like this. The bullet had gone clean throw his left shoulder, and he could feel the blood going down both his chest and his back.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked as he flames subsided. Sometime in the heat of everything she had fallen to the ground, likely due to her state when he found her.

"Okay? He fucking shot me, how am I…." he looked up at the girl and was nearly left speechless, "you…you…you."

"What?" she said angrily, and her skin started turning red.

"You're that girl. On the news. You're the suspect in the death of your parents," he remembered that red hair, those freckles. Yet, he found it hard to believe that this girl who had just saved his life could do such a thing.

"Look, as much as I'd love detailing my life's story, could you help me get Mr. Knife-guy's clothes off?"

"…what?" Terry stared at the girl, unable to comprehend why she needed to do such a thing, until he realized that she was standing before him completely naked. "Oh…oh my," he looked away, and his face turned a shade of red that probably stood out more than the girl did just a moment ago.

"Thanks for the chivalry, but it's not needed," she started pulling the shoes off of the man, "When your body gets covered in fire every time you get scared or angry, you learn to be comfortable in the buff," she tossed the first shoe aside and looked back, "Besides I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before."

Terry looked down at his feet, ashamed, "Not exactly."

"What?" she exclaimed, "really…." She shrugged, "Well, then, I hope you enjoyed your first show." She tossed the second shoe aside and undid the man's pants, "but please, can you help me out here? I'm not going to draw more attention to myself by walking you to the clinic butt naked, and I kind of melted your phone," she pointed toward a black spot on the pavement what he could only assume was his phone, "so can you please lift him up while I pull his pants off?"

He nodded and made his way toward her, doing his best not to see anything he shouldn't, but as he lifted the man, a bolt of pain shot through his shoulder, and he fell to the ground.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked as Terry pushed himself off the ground with his good arm and noticed for the first time how skinny she was; as if she hadn't eaten anything recently. Beneath the bruises on her face, he even could see how sunken her eyes had become.

"I'm fine," he said, "let's just get this done with." He shoved his good arm beneath the man's back and lifted as hard as he could and the girl pulled his pants off in one swift motion. She then layed the jeans aside and wrestled the hoodie off of him.

She threw on the hoodie and jeans, which thankfully was worn with a belt, and tried to stand up, but fell back to the ground and started coughing up blood.

Afraid of her condition, Terry steadied her, "Listen," he said as he threw her arm over his shoulder and hoisted her up, "I'm calling the hospital."

"No…" she protested weakly, but by this point she was in no condition to fight back.

"Look, we both need to get to a doctor. So here's what happened…"

Six hours later, Terry and the girl, both bandaged up, fed, and otherwise cared for sat together on the hospital bed while Detective Mare paced back and forth in front of them, "So let me get this straight," he said as he turned to face the two, "You, Claire, were with your family last Saturday when two men, one African American, the other Caucasian broke into your home?" Claire nodded, "Your father pulled out his shotgun, and it was then that the Caucasian used his powers and killed him, your mother, and then burned your house down."

"Yes," she said nervously and she gripped her hands tightly to stop herself from shaking.

"But you managed to escape, and the two were hunting you down, which is where you come in Terry. You saw the two corner her in an alley after your daily trip to the Diner? Why didn't you just call the police?"

Terry straightened up and added to the fabrication, "Well, I had lost my phone, so I was going back to the diner to see if I had left it there. I figured that by the time I got there it would be too late."

"Which is how you got so beaten up?" Terry nodded, "I see. So what happened next?"

"Well, I charged the African American with this," Terry held up his makeshift Taser, to which the detective raised an eyebrow quizzically, "It's a small Taser I made for emergencies. I shocked him, and then when the other guy tried to blast me, he missed and hit his friend."

"And then I tackled the guy before he could try to hit him again," Claire said.

"And that didn't work?"

Terry and Claire looked down, "No," Claire said, "he tried to attack again, but he must have lost his focus or something because the next thing I knew, he was covered in flames and he was screaming." A couple of tears rolled down her cheek, and Terry marveled at her ability to pull this off, but then realized that she had just killed two people and it may not be an act.

"Very well," Detective Mare said as he turned toward the door, "There doesn't seem to be much left to discuss here, but I may be in touch in the next few days, so don't leave town." He opened the door and was about to leave when he looked over his shoulder and said, "Terry, you did a brave thing. But don't let it get to your head." He then walked out the door and closed it behind him, leaving the two battered teenagers to themselves.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Claire let out a laugh, "Man," she nudged him on his arm, which was help in a sling, that sent a small jolt of pain through his shoulder, "that was close, wasn't it? But I'm glad it's all over."

"How can you be so cheerful?"

"Because, we made it out alive, Terry."

"But two people are dead. Because of us," Terry felt a heaviness in his chest that he couldn't explain. Sure, the two men had tried to kill them, but seeing them die had unnerved him. Terry knew that this next question was going to be hard, and he was confident it wouldn't end well for him, but he had to ask it, "What happened at your house?"

And her smile faded, "It wasn't my fault."

"But what happened?"

"Tonight, okay? I'll explain everything tonight when we are out of this hospital."

It wasn't the answer he was hoping for, but he figured that it was better than nothing, so he accepted it, "Where will you stay?" Terry asked.

The door opened and a man said, "She's going to stay with us before she settles things tomorrow."

Terry and Claire turned to the door where Donald and Delia Dodson stood, exhausted after a night of worrying about their son.