Page 54 of The Not So Super Hero

“What do you think I have to say?” Nate crossed his arms and cocking his brow. He looked ready for an argument, which was likely going to happen.

Zane wasn’t sure he wanted to answer or hear Nate’s answer. Shifting his weight, he quietly replied, “I don’t know. That you hate me, that you think I’m scum, something along those lines.”

“Not even close.” Nate shook his head, earning himself a disbelieving look.

“I’m disappointed. When we were at Raiffel, you were always trying to get us out.

You always had a plan, and even after each one failed for so many years, you got right back up after all the torture and torment and tried again.

I wasn’t the only one that looked up to you.

Everyone did because you gave us all hope that we could be more than lab rats. ”

Zane bit so hard into his lip that he tasted blood. He couldn’t face Nate, the disappointment would break him.

“And what makes this harder is that I understand. I do. Isaiah’s death was—”

Zane flinched, almost whimpered. He slipped into a defensive stance like that would protect him, arms crossed and head lowered.

“Isaiah’s death wasn’t your fault,” Nate said.

“Bullshit,” he spat. “How can you even say that?”

“Let me finish,” Nate hissed. “When the chance came that we could get out of there, you curled up into a ball like a coward. You stayed in your room and waited it out while others fought to get out. If you had helped, things would have been different!”

“You sure are putting a lot of faith in me,” Zane scoffed. His hair fell into his face, shielding his anguished expression. “There’s no guarantee my help would have changed anything.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that you ran when we needed you most! You built us up, only to turn your back. Isaiah trusted you to get us out. He died in vain. You ran away, and that’s all you’ve been doing. By now, you should realize that it hasn’t gotten you anywhere and it never will.”

Died in vain. That stung more than Zane cared to admit. Although he always felt that way, and had always been himself up for it, hearing it out loud hurt a thousand times more. His lungs constricted. The room grew smaller. His hands shook. Nate reached for him. Zane took a stumbling step back.

Nate’s hands fell listlessly to his side. “I’m sorry, Zane. I shouldn’t have said that, I just…”

The two fell into a soul-crushing silence, but Nate made no moves to leave. He ruffled his hair, and gazed about the room, waiting for Zane to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he finally replied, voice shaking as he brought his hand up to tug roughly at his hair. He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I know I should have done something. It was-it was just hard and…”

“I know. It’s why I don’t like talking about it.” Nate took another chance, stepping forward to rest a hand on Zane’s shoulder. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I understand. It frustrates me even more that I do, but I’m still fucking angry and it doesn’t make me miss Isaiah any less.”

Zane missed him, too.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you guys after we left Raiffel. We should have kept in touch,” Zane mumbled.

“Yeah, we should have tried harder, too.”

“I shouldn’t act annoyed every time you two come around. I am...glad that you’re here.”

“Well, I always act like a jerk too, but I’m glad we’re all together now.” Nate’s smile was so bright it hurt to look at. The tension in the room slipped away.

“I don’t want us to stop talking after all this, either.”

“We won’t, I promise.”

Zane chanced looking at Nate to find the guy was practically beaming.

It was embarrassing, even more so, when Nate suddenly wrapped Zane in a hug.

He stood motionless for a moment, wondering if he had fallen into a coma, passed out from the lack of napping.

But then Nate squeezed a little harder and Zane slipped his arms around Nate in a hug that he hadn’t realized he so sorely needed.

“See, it’s not so hard to talk, is it?” Nate asked.

“It’s exhausting.”

Nate snorted, his face burying itself in Zane’s shoulder. “I know you haven’t forgiven yourself, but nothing has changed for me or Natalia. You’re still the big brother we always wanted, and you’ll always be my idol. Always.”

Zane didn’t want to admit how grateful he was to hear that.

He didn’t want to talk about how it warmed his heart to know that, even after everything that happened, he hadn’t changed in their eyes.

He still had family, more than he knew, and the family kept growing, with Bailey now thrown into the mix.

Sadly, the moment was short-lived.

The security alarms blared, red lights flashing ominously above their head.

The shrill sound echoed throughout the halls.

Nate and Zane jumped. They set their attention upon the alarm, then each other.

A voice rang over the intercom, stating different sections of the facility where intruders had entered.

The list continued on for what felt like forever.

Zane bolted to the door before Nate could speak. There was only one person on his mind; Bailey.

The siren wailing through the apartment caused Bailey to jolt.

He sat on his bed, staring at the red blinking light in his room that cast eerie shadows across the wall.

The sound softened when a voice overtook the intercom, informing everyone where the intruders were.

Bailey’s hall wasn’t listed, although that didn’t cease the shaking in his hands.

Reaching to the bedside table, Bailey grasped his phone to call Zane.

During the tour of the facility, there had been discussions on exit signs leading to hidden escape routes.

However, what to do afterwards was beyond him.

In this panic, Bailey couldn’t recall how to open the hidden exits.

He wasn’t going to find out either, because Zane’s phone went off inside the apartment. He had forgotten to take it with him.

What was the point of a cell phone if he left it behind? How was Bailey meant to know if Zane was ok? What if something happened to him or to Bailey, for that matter? Knowing Bailey, something awful would happen to him before it did to Zane.

“Damn it.” Bailey’s shaking fingers clicked on Chris’ name next, but he didn’t answer.

He didn’t have Natalia or Nate’s numbers, either.

The alarm continued going off, the sound causing an aching discomfort.

Fear coursed through Bailey’s veins when he hesitantly headed towards the door.

He stood there, motionless, contemplating waiting for someone to arrive or taking his chances outside.

Where would he go? After he got out, he would have no idea where he was.

So was it better to leave or stay in the apartment?

There was a sudden knock at the door that made the decision for him.

“Bailey.” The knob jiggled, but it was locked. He recognized that voice, Leona, the woman from the cafe. “Oh, Bailey, a locked door won’t keep me out.”

Survival instincts kicked in. Bailey ran across the room to shove the couch against the door. Leona giggled at the soft thud of the couch hitting the door. A tapping sound followed, like she knocked the tip of her nail on the surface.

“Don’t play hard to get, sweetie. I’ll be getting in one way or the other,” she said with a laugh.

Bailey looked for more objects to shield the doorway when Leona’s fist broke through.

The wood shattered, splinters covering her hand that trickled blood.

She ripped her arm out. The splintered door tore her skin.

Bailey watched in horrid fascination, Leona’s blood trickled down the wood, burning it as if it were acid.

It hissed from the heat, smoke slowly rising from the marks.

“I can see you,” Leona sang, peering through the hole with her piercing green eyes that made his knees shake.

Leona reached her hand back in. Her long nails took shape, snakes protruding from her fingertips.

The slithering fiends dropped to the floor, growing in size with each passing second.

They hissed, their attention shifting towards Bailey, who bolted towards the kitchen.

He snatched a knife from the drawer. Snakes hissed behind him.

He ran for his bedroom, slamming and locking the door.

That time, he pushed the TV and its stand against the door.

There was no escaping. The disadvantage of no windows. However, Bailey didn’t sit still. He pushed the dresser a little closer to the door, then waited, back pressed against the wall and attention fixated on the door.

He trembled so ferociously that he had to grip his wrist with the opposite hand.

Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself, although no amount of meditative breathing could calm him.

Outside his room, Leona’s footsteps grew closer, as did the hissing of snakes.

His thoughts ceased, his mind overtaken by his labored breath, the obnoxious siren, and Leona’s steps.

Then came an ominous screech that he could only surmise as Leona dragging her nails across the walls. The doorknob jiggled.

“Really? Blocking the door again?” Leona called. “Fine, I like when a man puts up a fight.”

Leona slammed her fist into the door, as Bailey suspected. He brought the knife down. Leona screamed when the cold metal penetrated her palm. Bailey ripped the blade out as Leona pulled it away, shrieking. Bailey dropped the knife. The blade had melted away, even the carpet sizzled from her blood.

“Son of a bitch! You’ll pay for that!” Leona ripped furiously at the door. Her nails tore the wood apart bit by bit.

Bailey crawled on top of the dresser, waiting patiently. He wasn’t sure if his plan would work, but at that point, he was desperate.