Sub-Heroes: Boombox

Chapter Two

No matter how tough it is, to stand alone,

Even if… you are a long way from home.

You will always have the power in your hand,

When you stop… and choose to take a stand.

The Journey by Hank ‘Tumbleweed’ Morgan

Released 1975

The final siren rings out and I step into the hallway before its echo fades. There’s talk and chatter all around me as my fellow students make their way to the nearest possible school exit.

I wait at a busy corridor for my friend Corbin as the stream of students flow past me. Our tradition is to catch up here and loiter until the rush is over, then we can casually make our way home.

While I wait I look through my school bag for my lunchtime box of Go-Juice in the vain hope that there’s a little still left in the box.

“Hey, Oscar!” shouts Corbin. He approaches while I’m still rummaging. “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” I say as I sling my school bag over my shoulder and relishing the last few drops of Go-Juice. “I might race you on the way home, you know, a little practice before the Tryouts.”

“Okay then,” smiles Corbin, “Last one to the store can be the sidekick.”

We stare at each other for a second and then we both sprint to the bike racks.

I fumble as I unlock my stubborn bike combination lock. Then leaping onto the seat, I churn through the loose sand in first gear. As my rear wheel finds the traction of the pavement, I take off.

Believing that I have left Corbin behind, I look up only to see him peddling like a madman only a yard or two in front of my bike.

Not to be beaten, I lean forward to try and catch up.

My legs are straining at the pedals as my old bike reluctantly clicks into its highest gear.

The rough pavement yields some relief as we reach the peak of a small hill and start riding downwards with the local store in sight.

With the descent helping I catch up with Corbin and we are neck to neck, I can’t wipe the grin from my face as my handlebar passes Corbin’s rusty side mirror.

Corbin however, has a more panicked look on his face and I notice that he is switching focus from the road ahead to his mirror. I twist my head to see what the problem is and I spot someone else on a bike and he’s quickly closing in on us.

“Is that Billy”? I breathlessly ask.

Corbin only nods as he concentrates on reaching the relative safety of the nearby shops.

It’s as if each year of schooling brings on one or two ‘Billy’s’. These guys are always bigger or naturally meaner to the other students and they are not afraid to throw their weight around. Even the teachers know better than to push Billy too far. I can remember when he was expelled in the first week of school for throwing a chair at the English teacher, we didn’t see Billy for two weeks and the teacher was never seen again.

The last thing anyone would want, is to find themselves on Billy’s bad side but Corbin somehow has.

It was not because of any one event, it’s simply because Billy sees a weak target and then doesn’t let it go.

I try to slow down a little and put myself between Corbin’s and Billy’s bikes.

“Move it you spoon!” yells Billy as he pulls alongside me, forcing my bike towards the traffic side of the sidewalk.

Corbin has opened up the gap between us but it won’t take long for Billy to catch up with him, if he can manoeuvre past me.

I swerve slightly towards Billy’s bike alongside me.

“What!” yells Billy, “You did not do that!”

Billy then returns the favour.

At first he swerves a little away from me but I can guess that he is about to try and bump me so I try to hit my brakes. As expected, Billy sharply turns towards my bike. I thought that he was only trying to scare me, so I don’t move aside, but he doesn’t yield and our bikes collide. Rather than knocking my bike off the path, my pedal twists into the spokes of his rear wheel.

While both bikes are sliding to an awkward stop, Billy instinctively tries to wrench his bike away from mine by sharply pulling away. As his bike becomes unhooked from mine, Billy loses control. His bike skids off the sidewalk while still travelling at some speed and then, its front wheel digs into a patch of soft sand.

My brakes kick in, I look back in time to see Billy flying over his suddenly stationary bikes handle bars where he then lands painfully in a small hedge by the path.

“Is he okay?” I hear Corbin ask.

“I’m not sure, he’s not moving.” I back my bike up to the hedge.

“Arrgh!,” Billy releases a frustrated yell. “You little dweebs are going to get it now.” Billy stumbles back to his feet and his eyes don’t leave mine.

“Are you okay?” I ask cautiously as I notice that he is cradling his left arm.

“You… You little dweebs have busted my arm!” he grimaces. Billy tries to raise his injured arm but he winces and then cries out in pain. “Bahh, you wait till I get my hands on you!”

I notice that Corbin has stopped but he looks like he is ready to ride away at any moment. I figure that he has a good point, if I have broken Billy’s arm I’m not about to wait around for him to do the same to me. I break my gaze from Billy and begin to ride away as Corbin follows.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, run away you little dweebs.

I could beat you both up with one arm, imagine what I will do to your faces when it’s healed. Do you hear me dweebs, losers, when I find you, you won’t have such a pretty face or a pretty voice Oscarrr!”

Billy’s ranting lingers longer than I expected as Corbin and I ride past the shops and head home. Normally we would say goodbye to each other as we take our separate roads home, but today we simply nodded in quiet understanding that we were in serious trouble.

It feels like an unusually long ride but I finally arrive home. Flinging my bike into the back of the garage I can’t remove Billy’s angry face from my mind as I walk inside. With Billy’s threats still ringing in my ears, my Mum greets me.

“Oscar dear, can you help with putting the groceries away for me.”

I’m too preoccupied with my own thoughts to register my mums request.

“Oscar, if you don’t do what you are told the Obsidiman will get you!”

Mums threat would only work on a three year old, but it does gain my attention. “What… Nice try Mum, I’m not a kid anymore,” but I still start unpacking as I’m told.

That’s who I am, a tallish, blond haired, domestic shelf stacker, Hero hand shaker, still a little scared of the Obsidiman and soon to be Billy’s punching bag.

As I pull cans of vegetables, frozen pizza boxes and a new supply of Go-Juice cartons with little straws from the paper shopping bags I can hear the TV news playing in the background.

‘Coming up later in tonight’s bulletin, the continuing civil war in Russia and how it’s spurring a new wave of refugees streaming into Alaska...’

“So dear, anything interesting happen at school?” asks Mum.

The issues with Billy fade for a moment “Well, I shook The Admirals’ hand,” I say with a smile.

Mum stops rearranging the cupboard for a moment, “You mean an admiral, not The Admiral, right?”

“No Mum, it was The Admiral. He came to the school to talk about the Ultra Tryouts.”

“Wow, now that really is something. You had better tell your Dad, he will want to know all about it.”

I take the offer as all the excuse I need to stop sorting out the shopping and I run to the lounge room where my Dad is nestled in his favourite chair watching the news on our new large 48’ screen.

“Oh, Hi Oscar, was it a good day at school?” Dad asks.

“I met The Admiral Dad, the real guy and he shook my hand!” I say excitedly.

“No way!” replies Dad, “Did you ask him for an autograph?”

I did, but I left it at school. I will have to remind myself to grab it from my locker. “Yeah, but I will show you tomorrow,” I say in frustration.

Dad says, “That’s okay, I will find a frame for you to use.”

The page I asked The Admiral to sign is a little dog eared and has some History notes scribbled on it… but yes, it’s still worth framing. We turn our attention to the TV as images of burning cities fill the screen. A man’s voice then speaks over the footage.

‘With no end in sight, the violence continues in the once powerful Soviet Union for the third straight month.

We are yet to learn the exact cause of the sudden uprising, however as these smuggled images suggest the result has been devastating.

To date, Government officials and the Ultra Division have all said that this is a local matter for the Soviet people, and no intervention is planned.’

The TV is interrupted by our ringing phone. Shortly after I hear Mum yell from the other room, “Oscar, it’s for you dear, it’s Corbin.”

I expected this call, now Corbin and I are going to have to plan how to lay low and keep out of Billy’s way for the next few days or weeks… or perhaps years.

[4 Years and 3 months until Detonation.]