Free The Last Hero (Book 1): Ultra by Matt Blake

late.
    The curtains opened up. Outside the curtain, I saw two police officers standing there. Both of them were dressed in black suits, wearing sunglasses like they were from the Men in Black or something.
    Both of them had little yellow FBI logos on their jackets.
    “Kyle Peters,” the officer on the left said, a bald black guy with a deep voice. “Detective Agent Kirsh. And this is Detective Agent Cole.”
    The man beside Kirsh nodded. He had a broad head and a big figure that I didn’t want to mess with anytime soon.
    I thought about using what I’d discovered to teleport my way out of this. But it was just too dangerous. Too risky. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I could replicate those abilities.
    “Obviously, we’re sorry to intervene right now. You must be traumatized. But we have to ask you a few questions.”
    Here it comes…
    “The CCTV we retrieved was down. Completely fried.”
    Wait. What?
    “So we aren’t able to gather any footage of what happened inside the stands. The gunmen must’ve shot down the cameras some way, I don’t know.”
    Cole interrupted: “But we believe some of the gunmen got away. And strangely, it looks like some kind of fight went on in there before we got there. Some kind of in-fighting between them. Broken bones. Bullets fired. Seeing as we found you in there, we were wondering if you saw anything?”
    I looked between Kirsh and Cole. My heart still pounded. I couldn’t believe my luck at the CCTV being taken out. They didn’t know. They genuinely didn’t know.
    Or, they were testing me.
    I wanted to tell them the truth. That several of the gunmen had got away. That I’d been the one to stop the ones who didn’t.
    But instead, I said the only things I could, the only things I knew would keep me safe. For now.
    “I remember running,” I said. “Then I remember… I remember being knocked down and stamped on. I remember passing out. Then I remember waking up.”
    Silence between me and the two officers.
    “So you don’t remember how many of these gunmen there might’ve been? Where they might’ve gone to?”
    I searched my mind and played my words carefully. “No. Well, maybe something about going out onto the field to get away. But I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I don’t remember a…”
    I started coughing. This brought our conversation to an end.
    The officers sighed and walked towards the curtain. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Peters. Eighty-nine people died in that stadium. You’re fortunate to have a guardian angel looking over you. Rest well.”
    They disappeared, but before they did, I swore I caught a look of suspicion in their eyes.
    I did have a guardian angel looking over me.
    His name was Kyle Peters.
    And if I wasn’t careful, Kyle Peters was going to get me in big trouble.

12
    T hree days home from hospital confined to my bedroom and remarkably, I was eager to get out.
    I hobbled down the stairs. I could smell chicken curry fumes sneaking up from the kitchen. It smelled good, even though I hadn’t been hungry since I woke up. I’d been out cold for a day. The doctor told me and my parents that it’d take time for me to get my appetite back.
    But deep down, I knew the real reason why I wasn’t eating well.
    I walked towards my front door. I didn’t want to get into a deep conversation with Mom about where I was going. She’d only worry.
    I hoped to sneak out as the chicken sizzled in the pan. As the fumes from the spices made me cough.
    “Where you off to?”
    Dad’s voice made my stomach sink. I turned around. Looked back at him. “Just out.”
    Dad’s eyes narrowed. That pallid look that had covered his face for the last eight years was there as strong as ever. “You sure that’s a good idea, Son?”
    I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah. I mean, I can’t stay cooped up in that bedroom forever.”
    “Where you off to, then?”
    “Just… just Damon’s.”
    “Damon’s?”
    I nodded, feeling my cheeks flushing. I’d