Page 15 of The Not So Super Hero

S itting alone in his apartment, Zane felt utterly bored to the point of insanity. Normally silence was something he strived for, however, that Sunday afternoon made him restless. That annoying feeling of pins and needles in his legs had him kicking them about to disperse the energy.

Zane never had energy. It was a foreign word, let alone a feeling.

He wished for that energy to leave so he could return to his lethargic nature.

However, the fidgety symptoms traveled from his legs to his arms until it forced him to pace his apartment.

How odd, because listless was Zane’s natural state of being.

It was his weekend, work was tomorrow, students were returning, which meant it was going to be a colossal pain.

He wanted to spend his Sunday at home. That wasn’t happening though, because even TV and beer couldn’t keep him in bed.

Sighing, he put on some clothes suitable for the outside world and went for a stroll. He knew he was losing his mind the moment he left his apartment to walk. Zane didn’t do exercise. Was he actually his own doppelg?nger?

However, the edgy feeling dissipated, allowing Zane peace of mind while listening to music on his walk to the park.

Since break was ending, the town returned to its normal booming nature.

Students piled back to the dorms. The streets grew packed.

For a brief moment, Zane wondered what Bailey was up to.

Brief, seriously, it was two seconds at the most.

A sudden pat on his shoulder brought Zane back to reality.

Pivoting on his heel, he set his headphones around his neck when he came face to face with Terry Busch, the young officer who worked with Chris.

From time to time, they got drinks together, or he checked on Zane when Chris was busy, so it wasn’t all that surprising that he came over to talk.

“Strange seeing you out on a weekend,” Terry said. He obviously wasn’t on duty, seeing as he was in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Are you feeling ok? Need to go to the doctors?”

“Funny.” Zane snorted, then noted the bag in Terry’s hand. “Getting some take out by yourself? Where’s the girlfriend?”

Terry’s face fell, while Zane’s smirk grew brighter. He may have overheard from Chris that Terry had recently been dumped.

“My bad, I won’t tease you if you’re gonna be like that,” Terry huffed, hands raised in defeat.

“Good choice.”

“What about you, though? Chris was talking about some new boy in your life. Got yourself a boyfriend?”

“What?” Zane grimaced, making a mental reminder to disembowel Chris the next time he saw him. “No.”

“You sure?” Terry pursed his lips. Zane swore he saw a light bulb go off above Terry’s head when his eyes widened. He playfully nudged Zane with his elbow. “Is that why you’re out today? Feeling a little restless after not seeing your boyfriend?”

Zane yanked Terry into a headlock so fast that the guy dropped his food. Terry shouted more about his food than the assault. Zane’s heart palpitated strangely, which he passed off as a heart problem.

Bailey? His boyfriend? Feeling restless because he hadn’t seen him?

That was ridiculous, though his mind reminded him that his restless nature had happened after Thursday, when he spent most of his time with Bailey.

Whatever didn’t matter. Wasn’t true. Like he wanted to date someone as troublesome as Bailey, or anyone.

Dating was exhausting. Relationships were tedious.

Feelings and all that gave Zane the shivers.

Terry punched Zane’s leg right to be released.

“With that reaction, I think we both know the actual answer,” Terry said between chuckles.

Zane grabbed Terry’s take out and held it over the nearest trash can. With wide eyes, Terry held out his hands like a toddler and whimpered, “No, I just got that. Come on, I’m teasing. It was a joke, a joke!”

“Your life is a joke.”

Terry placed a hand over his heart. “That hurts.”

Zane handed Terry his precious food, which he held like a sacred gem to his chest. Continuing to smile, Terry suggested the two of them head back to get Zane some food, maybe hang out and have lunch together. Though Zane was not one to spend time with someone, he rarely said no to free food.

Zane followed Terry, who chattered away over a few odd happenings at work.

Zane listened for a moment, though a frigid chill running down his spine had him halting in his tracks.

It could easily be ignored, passed off for nothing more than a random tremor except the chill never left.

The odd sensation lingered, causing the tips of Zane’s fingers to tremble.

Shivering, he rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the goose bumps that appeared on his skin.

There was a peculiar feeling that overtook him, like he was being watched.

Zane glanced about the street in search of the culprit, though he saw no one paying him any mind. Everything was normal, and yet Zane couldn’t brush off the sensation that something was terribly wrong.

“Zane, what’s up?” Terry asked, hesitating a few steps ahead.

“Nothing,” Zane responded in his signature monotone voice, though his eyes were more alive than ever. They took in every aspect of the environment, from the college girl texting on her phone to the rat scurrying back into the sewer.

Before Terry argued, Zane continued on the path leading to food.

Terry ran to catch up to Zane’s long strides.

Although the two had a meal together, he never stopped looking over his shoulder.

By the time he returned to his apartment, the feeling of being watched had disappeared.

He hadn’t felt eyes on him since he left Terry after lunch.

Part of him wondered if it was his imagination, while another hoped for it to be his imagination.

Sighing, Zane kicked his door closed behind him, double-checking that the door was locked prior to doing the same with his window.

He slid the curtains shut, blocking the outside world as he sank into his bed, where he should have been all day.

The rest of Zane’s day went as it should have been from the beginning; on his bed, watching TV.

Though he hesitated on the Live TV option where the news played.

“Yet another sudden attack took place today by unknown perpetrators,” Carrie Kempt reported.

Her co-host of the evening, Gordon Wessell, sat at her side.

Their voices carried over the video being displayed for the world to see.

“This time, the attack was in Fredericksburg. Two unknown villains came seemingly out of nowhere and overtook the city central in a matter of minutes.”

Two villains were visible through cameras on the streets. The villains wreaked mayhem and havoc. Both wore typical ski masks to obscure their identities as people fled like mice in every direction.

“Thankfully, Jax showed up in time before too many lives were lost. However, he failed to capture the villains who disappeared without a trace,” Gordon finished.

Footage of Jax from a vertical angle came onto the screen.

The camera shook tremendously, barely making out Jax’s figure sent hurtling back to smash a car.

The alarm blared so loudly that Zane turned down the volume.

Jax, with weapons of his own design, fought off both villains.

Those trapped in central Fredericksburg escaped with his help.

The footage abruptly cut to Carrie and Gordon at the news station.

“We’ve seen an unusual amount of activity from villains the last few weeks. The public is growing scared as questions have come up that perhaps these attacks are coordinated,” Carrie said with a frown. “Police have been looking into it, but so far, there are no leads.”

Zane switched to a random streaming service before Gordon could go on. He was no longer interested nor wished to listen to the troubles of the news. Putting on a series, Zane did his best to forget about real-world problems.

During his marathon, Zane fell asleep only to awaken in a fright.

He shot up from his bed, chest heaving and mind reeling when he found himself incapable of breathing.

He couldn’t move, simply sat there on his bed, staring into the darkness of his apartment, wondering what lurked in every corner and within every crevice.

Goose bumps appeared on his skin, lasting a second before his eyes adjusted to the light coming from his TV.

There was nothing there, no one but him.

Zane calmed himself enough to grab a glass of water.

The immense pounding against his skull, like some drunk took a jackhammer to it, was so painful that he dropped to the floor with a low growl.

He thought he was too old to be having nightmares, though it seemed age had nothing to do with it.

No one could run away from their past; Zane’s liked to visit him in his sleep.

His alarm went off before he got any more shut eye.

Like every other Monday morning, Zane prepared for work with the least amount of effort required.

He grabbed his keys and left. Yet again, he found that same woman from some time ago standing outside with flyers.

Her cheeks had sunken in, eyes grown dark and gray while she barely spoke.

The lady was so out of it she didn’t recognize him, simply held out the flyer for him to take, which he did.

“Thank you,” she said, softly.