A Superhero's Death by Lucas Flint

Author:Lucas Flint [Flint, Lucas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: young adult, superheroes
Publisher: Secret Identity Books
Published: 2018-04-07T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Jack!” Uncle Josh’s voice suddenly pierced the air. “What the hell are you doing with the Atlas Glove?”

Snapping out of my shock, I saw Uncle Josh walking toward me, his hands balled into fists. Even though he was completely uninjured from the attack, he nonetheless looked as if I had just fired a loaded gun in his face.

“I just wanted to help,” I said, lowering the Atlas Glove to my side, smoke rising from the fingertips. “I saw this suitcase in the trunk and—”

Uncle Josh stopped in front of me and tore the Atlas Glove off my hand immediately. He looked over the Glove briefly, perhaps to make sure it was still in one piece, and then looked at me with a disapproving scowl. “You could have killed yourself. The recoil alone is enough to break a person’s arm. It’s a miracle that you’re not writhing on the street screaming for your mommy from the pain of your broken arm.”

I winced at Uncle Josh’s harsh tone. “Well, my arm does hurt a little, but—”

“I don’t care,” Uncle Josh interrupted. “I don’t understand why you didn’t run when I told you to, but I guess you thought you’d play the hero or something. You could have gotten both of us killed or caused all kinds of collateral damage that I wouldn’t be able to explain to the police.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t know what it was,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I still don’t know what it is.”

“It’s a weapon,” said Uncle Josh as he looked around, perhaps to make sure that no one had heard the blast from the Atlas Glove. “And a dangerous one, at that. Like I said, you got lucky.”

I looked around Uncle Josh toward the back of the alley where the smoking car lay. Mohammad and the driver both still lay unconscious on the ground, though they could have been dead for all I knew. “And who are these guys and who is this ‘Superior’ they kept talking about?”

Uncle Josh rubbed the back of his head, an exasperated look on his face. “I’ll explain on the way home. For now, we need to get out of here. It’s possible that Mohammad and his friend might be the only two in Rumsfeld, but—”

“Only two what?” I said.

But Uncle Josh apparently didn’t hear me. He looked around again as he continued to speak. “Regardless, someone probably overheard the explosion and have no doubt called the police, which means we don’t have much time to get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” I repeated. “Why do we need to ‘get out of here’? Shouldn’t we stay so we can tell the police what happened?”

Uncle Josh looked at me in annoyance. “The last thing I need is for the police to know that I have the Atlas Glove or to start asking me about my connections to these guys. Even you’re not supposed to know about the Glove, but it’s too late now for you, I guess.

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