Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight

4– Superheroes

By the time I wake up the next morning, the snowfall has ended but the sky, despite the cloud cover, seems brighter, swathed in opal luminescence. I dress quickly in more layers than usual, uncomfortably cold, and run to the window. The temperature has plummeted and it's well below zero. All of yesterday's snow has frozen into fantastic patterns on the trees lining the road; icicles jut down from eaves and tree branches and the lawn and road are frosted over. It's beautiful, but won't make driving to school any easier.

For breakfast I scarf down the usual toast and make another mental note to go grocery shopping with dad in the future. Despite my worries, the truck seems to handle the icy conditions fine and I make it to school with time to spare. I still drive a little slower than usual, maybe an unnecessary precaution considering that my truck could probably be overtaken by skateboarders even when I'm pushing it to its limits.

When I step outside, a glint at the back catches my attention. I move closer to have a look, mindful of the ice dotting the ground. I soon find out the reason I didn't have any problems driving to school; my dad has put chains on the tires. I smile to myself. It's nice to be taken care of for a change. Some kind of hard lump in my chest seems to soften a little, and I'm really starting to feel like moving back here was long overdue.

Except, that's when I hear a sudden screeching sound and look up. Across the width of the lot Lynn Cullen is staring at me, her eyes wide open. Every face seems to be turned toward me, mouths agape, screams gushing out. I search for the source of the sound and I see a black van spinning out of control over a large patch of ice. It careens straight at me. I don't have the time to react or even close my eyes, but a tiny part of my mind flashes a quick thought: I'm staring at my own death.

I feel a sudden yank on my collar and fall backward, hitting the concrete hard, just before the van collides with a sickening crash with the back of my truck. Lynn Cullen is standing above me, but the van is still spinning, wrapping itself around my ride, and it's about to hit us both. And then the most incredible thing happens. Lynn braces herself against my truck with one hand and with other she stops the motion of the van before it can squash us like bugs. When the engine sputters and it comes to a complete stop, Lynn and I are trapped between the inert vehicles. Shouts erupt all around us and we know we will soon be freed. Lynn, still crouched right next to me, prevents me from getting up.

"You'd better stay down. You might have hit your head when I pulled you back. They'll get us out of here soon."

"How did you do that?" I ask her, my eyes wide.

"Do what?" A terse whisper. Her beautiful eyes are only inches from my face.

"You were nowhere near me, and then suddenly you were. And you stopped the van with your hand. That's incredible. You saved me…. But how?"

She cringes and her expression shifts.

"You hit your head. You're confused. I was standing right beside you and what you said is impossible."

She sounds convincing, but I think she's just a good actress.

"No way. I'm not confused at all. You were next to your car, all the way across the lot. And I saw what you did."

"Please." She hisses. "Don't tell anybody."

"But…"

"Please, Brandon." I see pain in her expression. This is important to her; I can tell that much. "I'm begging you…"

"Okay, but you will explain it to me later?" I hear a scraping sound. They're finally about to free us.

"Whatever." She's angry now. "Just please don't tell them."

"I won't. Thank you. You saved my life."

I wasn't paying attention to all the commotion, but when the van is finally removed paramedics are waiting for us next to an ambulance. Lynn tells them she doesn't need any assistance but she's worried about me; I hit my head. I should be upset when they strap me to a gurney in front of the whole school. I'm just too surprised to really get mad, though. I wave to the crowd and tell everybody willing to listen that I feel totally fine and it's just a minor knock. The driver of the van, Tyler, is already being loaded on an ambulance. A paramedic is pressing gauze reddening with blood against his face. They load me on another one, but Lynn gets to sit with the driver. Some people have all the luck. Before they can take off my father shows up and I spend the next few minutes reassuring him that I'm fine. Fortunately the medic confirms I look okay and that they are only taking me to the hospital as a precaution.

The next couple of hours or so are a bit of a drag. The doctors insist on taking X-rays and then abandon me in the ER ward with my father tagging along. Tyler is there too, his face now mostly covered in bandages, but he seems okay.

"Brandon, I'm so sorry. I wasn't going that fast but I panicked when I skidded on some ice I hadn't seen and started sliding. I'm so sorry man."

You don't know how lucky you are buddy, I think to myself, you could have been already charged with manslaughter.

"It's okay. I'm fine. Lynn pulled me out of the way just in the nick of time."

"Who?"

"Lynn Cullen."

"Oh, right. Sorry. I didn't see her at all. I guess it was all so fast."

"It could have been a lot worse, young man." My father, protectively stationed by my side, tells him. "We will have a chat later, Tyler."

"Yes, sir, I'm very sorry." He says contritely. I feel like laughing.

"So, she saved your life son?"

"Yes," I see Lynn walk into the room, followed by a young doctor. He's very handsome. Dad introduces him as Doctor Cullen and I remember he must be her father. She was adopted, and they look nothing like each other. He's taller and his hair is blond. I can see why the nurses swoon in his presence and I envy him his good looks. Still, like Lynn he's very pale and moves with unusual elegance. Living together must make people somewhat similar.

"Brandon, you were saying…?" Dad grumbles, reminding me of his question. Lynn appears tense, rigidly waiting for my answer. I think I know what she's worried about. There's no need.

"Yes, well, like I was about to say, after I parked Lynn came over to ask me something about our French class. I was looking at the chains you installed. And then I heard a loud noise and looked up. The van was about to hit me, but she pulled me out of the way. She has quick reflexes."

"Lynn? Your daughter, Dr. Cullen?"

"Yes, Charlie. And here she is. And yes, she is very quick, fortunately."

"No doubt, doctor. Lynn, I don't know how to thank you. You saved my boy."

"I'm glad I could help," She says, her expression serious.

"You were very lucky, young man." Doctor Cullen finally addresses me directly as he moves in front of me and shines a light in my eyes.

"The x-rays look good. How do you feel?"

"I have a bit of a headache but otherwise I feel totally fine. Can I go back to school now?" Everybody else in the room has a bit of a chuckle. Even Lynn joins in. "Glad you find me entertaining, but I wasn't joking."

"You better take it easy today, Brandon." Doctor Cullen explains patiently. "You seem to be fine, but just go home for today and rest."

"Is Lynn going back to school?"

"Yes, she's cleared. Somebody will have to tell the few students that didn't show up in the waiting room about your survival."

I groan and even my dad joins in the laughter.

"Okay, well, anyways, thank you doctor. Can I go home now then?"

"Of course. Charlie, I'll need you for some paperwork. You don't mind waiting here Brandon?"

"That's fine." This might give me a chance to talk to Lynn alone. First, I need to stand up.

"Lynn, could I talk to you in private?" I ask her once my legs have stopped shaking, surprised by my own audacity.

Her eyes are hard, but she turns around and strides to the other end of the room and then into the corridor, well away from Tyler. I amble after her, still a little dazed.

"What do you want?" She asks in harsh tones, glaring at me with obvious annoyance.

"I wanted to thank you again. If it wasn't for you….."

"You're welcome." Her eyes soften a little, but not enough.

"I bet you won't tell me how you did it?"

She smiles coldly in spite of her anger.

"Not a chance. And if you blab, well, nobody will believe you." She scoffs and silently dares me to disagree.

"I'm not telling anybody. After your rescue, that's the least I can do." I try a shy smile. "But I'd really like to know. I swear it will be between us. You can tell me." I try my eager-student expression, but it fails to win her over.

"Forget it, if you know what's good for you." She glowers at me for a few long seconds. I look at the shades of color in her eyes. Contacts or no contacts, I could lose myself in them. Finally, she stomps out of the room without another word. I want to call out to her but don't.

At home I read an old SF novel and work on a report. My headache dwindles, with some Tylenol help, and I become bored. In the late afternoon I go out for a walk. My soccer coach recommended using hiking poles to exercise the upper body, and I decide it's time to give it a try. I got a pair for cheap at the only hiking gear store in town and I lean on them as I walk in the forest for a couple of hours. For supper, I meet dad at the diner. One of his men had already driven my truck back home. We are both thankful we don't have to cook.

A few hours later I'm buried under the usual avalanche of blankets, trying to sleep but still staring at the secret maps hidden in the ceiling's coarse veneer.

Out of the blue, it finally hits me for real. I was about to die. In fact, I should be dead now, I should be a body at the morgue, whatever was left of it after being sandwiched between two layers of cold, unyielding metal; most likely a cartoonish two-dimensional cut-out. Without Lynn's intervention, they would have had to scrape my remains off my truck with a trowel.

And then the shakes begin. It's just a queasy trembling in my fingers at first, but it spreads to my entire body and turns to full on convulsions, until I'm wondering whether I'm ever going to be able to stop. I try to take deep breaths, but my body rocks harder and harder. I gasp for air like a fish stranded on dry land and I start to think I'm about to have a heart attack at seventeen, but then, mercifully, I manage to take a few deep breaths in a row and the quaking finally abates.

I should be dead. The thought still bounces off the walls of my skull, back and forth. There is no way anybody could have saved me. It's absolutely impossible. And yet, here I am….. Making sure my breathing stays deep and steady, I try to look at the most rational explanations for my survival.

First hypothesis: I am actually dead and the last few hours have been nothing more than a dream created by my oxygen-deprived brain to ease my passage into the afterlife. Maybe Lynn's rescue is something my mind used to justify this imaginary existence. For the moment I discard this one. Everything seems real enough. Boringly so. I'll keep it on the backburner.

Second hypothesis: I've gone insane, schizophrenic maybe, and hallucinated the whole thing. This doesn't work…. Mirages can't stop a van with momentum.

Third hypothesis: Lynn has some special abilities, or even super powers. Movies and comic books are filled with those. Assuming I'm neither dead nor insane, there is really nothing else that comes to mind. But who or what is she, really? Some of the concepts in pop culture are just a joke. A radioactive spider, planet Krypton, a vat of chemicals. Ridiculous. Are there any stories or characters that could, maybe, be real? Only a couple come to mind: mutants or some kind of experiment, military or private.

Genetic mutations have been reported in real life. Not super powers, obviously, but still, there might be some mutations that, while much rarer, resemble comic book lore. Unlikely, but not utterly impossible. There is also no doubt that many scientists have tried to develop ways to make humans smarter or stronger, so some secret super serum, like the one that created Captain America, is not completely farfetched.

Either explanation could also fit the bill in another way. The Cullens are a family through adoptions only, and yet its members all have certain similarities. The pale skin, strong features, maybe eyes that can change color if Lynn is any indication. Both theories could easily also account for why they would want to remain keep their distance from the rest of us. Her strength and speed are nothing short of miraculous. I bet many governments would love to vivisect her, if they knew of her existence.

My hypotheses may well be way off the mark, or really close. Either way, I'm pretty sure they are hiding and don't want the rest of the town to know just how freakishly different they really are. Come to think of it, the rest of her family looked upset rather than scared when they dug us from between the vehicles that almost turned me into an omelet. They want to remain unnoticed, anonymous. It's the only thing I'm sure of. Considering I owe Lynn my life, I will not disclose any of this to anybody. Even my parents must remain in the dark. Besides, she's right. Nobody would believe me. I would just end up locked up somewhere. One more reason to keep mum.

And finally, sleep takes me away from my conjectures and into a land of confused dreams rife with perilous journeys.