Free Footsoldiers: A Super Human Clash Special From Philomel Books by Michael Carroll Page B

blindfolded her, and threw her down the cellar stairs.
    Hesperus was out of the cuffs before she even hit the ground. She was back up the stairs even as Slaughter was closing the door. She smashed her way through and proceeded to beat the living snot out of Slaughter. I think it was the first time that anyone had managed to lay a decent punch on her.
    Of course, Slaughter was out of prison within a week. But she never again tried to take on Hesperus without someone backing her up.
    Anyway.
    Yeah, the Footsoldiers were a bit weird. But we were superheroes. Weird goes with the territory.
    When Thalamus and Apex decided that they should form a team, they asked me. I wasn’t going to bother—I was doing pretty well on my own—but then they told me that they were going to ask Hesperus too.
    That changed my mind. If Hesperus wanted to join, I would too. As we’d grown older, we’d grown a little apart, and I enjoyed spending time with her. Plus there aren’t that many women in the superhero game. Maybe whatever it is that makes us superhuman mostly works on men. Or maybe it’s like Thalamus said once: “There are certainly superhumans out there who have never discovered their abilities.”
    He could be right about that. I only discovered my own powers by accident. I was able to create and shape sound waves. A lot of people have asked me about that, how it works, but it’s hard to explain. It’s like I was able to
see
them, like an extra layer on top of normal vision. And I could make the sound waves do what I wanted.
    I was sixteen when I discovered this. My folks dragged us all to my little sister’s school concert. Let me tell you, there’s nothing more annoying than a bunch of seven-year-olds attempting to sing the latest pop songs.
    By the time the last kid appeared, I was pretty much ready to cry. Naturally all the old folks went “Aw!” at the sight of her. Then she started to sing. Fractured and uneven sound waves hit me like a shower of broken glass.
    Man, she was bad. Up and down the scales searching for the right notes and not finding them. She even hit a few that really shouldn’t have existed. I swear I’ve heard more tuneful car alarms.
    Then one particular note just sort of slammed into me. It should have been a Middle C, but it was cracked and chipped like pottery in a cement mixer—which, to be honest, would have sounded better. But the thing is, I could see exactly what was wrong with the note, and I fixed it. And the next one, and the next. I didn’t realize at first that it was me doing it.
    All of a sudden that little girl could sing. She was pitch perfect.
    Around me, the parents’ fake grins turned into looks of astonishment.
    My mother leaned past me to whisper, “Isn’t she amazing?” to my dad, and that broke my concentration. The little girl’s voice returned to the noise of a wildcat desperately trying to scratch its way out of a metal garbage can.
    It took me a long time to learn how to properly control sound waves, but when I was at my peak I was pretty powerful.
    Sound waves aren’t just noise, vibrations in the air. Well, OK, on one level they are. But they’re more than that. They’re communication, emotions, alerts and alarms. And properly directed, sound waves can be a devastating weapon. Certain singers can shatter a wineglass through sound. They do it by issuing a note that’s perfectly in tune with the glass. The harmonic resonance builds, causing micro-vibrations that shatter the crystalline structure.
    At my best, I was able to shatter brick walls. Instantly, too. No messing about trying to find the correct frequency. I could whisper and direct the sound to someone miles away. They’d hear me perfectly. And I could do the opposite: I was able to listen to passengers talking in a 747 at thirty thousand feet.
    I could deaden sounds—handy when sneaking up on someone—or