The Cancerwoman Chronicles: Origin of a Heroine

"I'm afraid you already told me you were going to run, thus I have the moral obligation to force you to do it."

"C'mon, couldn't we just sit for a little longer, I have to tie my shoes."

"Tie them outside, that way you can start running right away, and not keep sitting around in here trying to find excuses as to why you can't run."

"I hate you, Keith", the girl glared as she trudged outside into the warm August air.

"Yeah yeah, I love you too, Danielle. By the way, shouldn't Dave be here by now?"

"He'll show up", she looked quickly up the empty street, "in fact, he's here."

The car pulled up quickly, coming to a short halt. Bounding out of the car, Dave tried valiantly to finish changing into his running attire. "Hey guys, sorry I'm late. Let's go"

* * * * *

Bernie looked out the window again, silently cursing the state of things. 'How could my wonderful area become poisoned by these damn smog spewing apes. It's not enough that these kids have to smoke, but they have to bring it to my coffee shop.' He looked down at the makeshift bomb in his hands. 'I guess I'll just have to take care of this on my own.'

To the casual observer, the device in Bernie's hands looked like a five year old's version of a radio, complete with paperclip wires and cardboard casing. However, thanks to his father's connections at the hospital, Bernie was able to obtain some rather hazardous materials from x- ray machines and broken sonigrams. A little tweaking, and Bernie had himself a bomb capable of demolishing half a city block.

After weeks of preparation and espionage, he had finally secured himself a quick, smoke-free access to the coffee shop. A quick in, then set the timer and be out before anyone can notice. The plan was all but perfect. The coffee shop was a small price to pay for getting rid of those damn smokers.

One might call Bernie a bitter man. Born with a deadly allergy to cigarette and cigar smoke, he spent the first week after being brought home in an oxygen tent, thanks to an uncle passing out cigars on the joyous occasion. All his life Bernie had been diagnosed with more and more allergies: fur, pollen, and various foods. Bernie strove to overcome it all though, never letting his allergies get him down. Smoke was another story altogether though. One wif of second hand smoke, and he might be forced to the hospital, spending another week in the oxygen tent.

Bernie had to be careful where he spent his time. Originally, he found a wonderful little coffee shop in the Village. No smokers would come near the place, it was a hangout for teens, and back then, only the older folk smoked. But then, they came. Kids hardly old enough to drive a car, stealing or somehow getting cigarettes, and then lighting up just to look cool. They started coming in droves, filling the place with a smokey haze before Bernie would even show up for his daily latte. He had lost the little piece of heaven that he so treasured. And it was in that moment that the spark for overcoming his problems turned into a flame, a burning flame of hatred towards those kids. He hated those kids for taking his paradise, and he would pay them back by taking their lives.

And now, he was sitting outside the coffee shop, waiting for the right time. He watched as a store clerk, one he onced chatted with often, stepped outside to throw the garbage in the dumpster outside. Bernie moved like lightning, knocking the boy out, and quickly stopping the now open rear entrance. In a final act of humanity, Bernie moved the boy far enough away to escape the blast, before stealthily moving back to the coffee shop entrance.

* * * * *

A weary band of travelers swiftly jogged through the streets, trying to keep pace, as well as keep the group together. One of the group looked on with pride, and slight annoyance; another looked determined and good humored; while the last looked just about ready to pass out on the spot.

"Slow down you guys, don't you realize that you're running with a smoker. Can't we just walk for a block?" Danielle hopefully pleaded.

"Ya know, Dave smokes too, and he isn't having a problem."

Danielle looked disdainfully at her companion, "Yeah, but Dave is a gymnast, I'm not athletic at all."

"Just get over it and keep running."

The three moved in silence once again as they entered the Village. Becoming tired of watching the intense glares from Danielle, Keith took the time to take in the scenery. Briefly closing his eyes in bliss, he missed the large crack in the cement, which managed to catch his foot and send him sprawling onto the unforgiving sidewalk. Blushing slightly as Dave and Danielle gave a hearty laugh, Keith stood up again and diverted his eyes from the other two runners, looking straight at his friend Bernie pulling an unconscious body.

"What the heck?!?!"

"Hahahahaha.. ha..he..he... what the heck is what?" Danielle tried to ask.

"Holy shit! Look, Bernie's down the street with somebody. The guy looks hurt," Dave said, shocked.

With less than a moment's thought, Keith dashed toward Bernie, "C'mon, they might need help."

Danielle tried her best to keep up, "Wait... why's...he ...huff.... leavin the guy?"

The trio reached the unconscious boy in time to see Bernie leave him and rush back to the Village. Bernie was so caught up in his plan, he failed to notice the three figures coming to the boy's aid. After checking pulse and breathing, they figure the boy must have been knocked out.

"Did Bernie do this?" Dave asked, looking towards where Bernie had gone.

"We gotta figure out what is goin on," Keith said, looking at the faces of the others with him. He received two nods of agreement before they all turned to the Village and started sprinting.

* * * * *

Bernie picked up his bomb, which he had left outside the door, and moved in. He could hear the voices of those cretins talking like the crude pigs they were. He quickly put on his painter's mask, banking that it would protect him from the smoke long enough to do what need be done. He looked around the slightly darkened storeroom for a suitable spot to hide his creation.

He set the crude device in a low shelf and set it in place to look just like another box. Soon, all his planning would come to pass, and he'd be rid of these foul apes once and for all. He paused for a moment at the activation switch. He paused at the voice of an angel. Emily had worked at the coffee shop for two years now. She was only a few months older than Bernie, and he had fallen hard for her. He had always wanted to ask her out, and had intended to, but they came in the day he had finally found the courage to do so. He heard her talking to another worker, she laughed, and oh how she laughed. It was like the most beautiful song to him.

Bernie looked down at his contraption. He heard the laugh again. A tear rolled slowly down his cheek. He couldn't do it, he could never do anything to hurt her, Emily. Bernie looked down at his bomb. He gently lifted it back up, and turned towards the door, shocked to see three of his friends bursting through.

"Bernie!! What's......" Keith couldn't finish as he saw the crude device in Bernie's hands. Had it not been for his brief army man phase, Keith wouldn't have guessed what the contraption was. But he, seeing it with slightly odd parts here and there, knew what the device was, a bomb. "Bernie, stop! Don't do anything you'll regret! Nobody needs to get hurt here."

Danielle, sensing the urgency in her companion's voice, tried her best to do what she thought was right. "Bernie, whatever is going on, it's not worth hurting someone over. You've gotta stop whatever you're doing."

Things had not gone to plan at all. Seeing his friends, Bernie panicked. There was no way he could be caught, he couldn't go to jail. He was out of ideas, and shakily pressed a button. Too late did he realize it was the start of the bomb's countdown. Time seemed to stand still as all eyes glued themselves to the red counter flashing its ominous warning.

"Oh my god! What have I done?" Bernie looked frantically at the stricken faces of his friends. The third time that day, Bernie panicked, and dropped the cardboard contraption to the ground. It seems they just don't make do-it-yourself bomb instructions with the intent of stability. The parts shook with a breathtaking clang, but settled once again. The countdown briefly paused, blinking off, before blinking on again, with a new time. Five seconds until detonation!!

"Run," came a surprisingly calm voice. And with that a body launched itself on top of the bomb, hoping vainly to muffle the explosion enough to save everyone.

And then, white.

What will happen to our intrepid group of friends? Did the Village get a bursting new make-over? Or, did our mysterious savior succeed? Who was it that tried so valiantly to save the others, at risk of their own life? Find out in the next issue of The Cancerwoman Chronicles.