Hope & Fury (Heroes & Demons Book 2)

Sandy was doing everything she could just to hold her shit together. Frustrated, angry, guilty – all these things were whirling around inside her head. She knew they had done everything they could and knew they had still failed. Every time, in every battle they fought they had failed. They had been unable to stop the Blackout – as much as Ruth might have mitigated the damage – they had failed. They had been unable to stop the rise of Atlantis, and the return of Atlas. They had failed. They had attempted to stop a missile inbound for York and they had failed spectacularly.

It wasn’t the weight of all their failures which weighed most heavily on her. It was the single act the day before done without thought. She had sent her father away with the most venomous of intent. To get rid of him, to have the problem go away and be something she didn’t have to think about. She sent him home to his new wife Jackie and undoubtedly a bunch of kids who she would never accept as her half-brothers and sisters, or step-brothers and sisters (Jackie always sounds like a woman with kids from a previous relationship, she didn’t know why).

She had sent her father back to his job, as a firefighter. In York.

Somehow not wanting someone to be part of your life and knowing fully that if they were lying in a pool of their own decaying flesh you never would be able to – they were two completely different and separate things.

After their brief, pointless meeting, she headed back out to the steps. She lit her fag and this time even when Rick joined her in the fresh midday air he didn’t question her lifestyle choice. He simply sat next to her and took in the sombre tone of the city that morning. He did catch the slight shake of her hand as she brought the cigarette to her lips and so took her other one in his. She let him.

“You know in the middle of all the other mess going on, I sometimes forget to stop and see how beautiful it is,” he mused. Glad of the distraction she asked,

“What do you mean?”

“Look around you.”

She did, she saw a grim street lit from above in a cloudless sky but the buildings too tall for the narrow street to get much actual light down it. She saw a bus chugging by with morose looking people sombrely staring out of the window. She saw a couple hugging, one of them having stopped and simply given up – overwhelmed by what they were feeling, unspeakable hopelessness and true fear. Or perhaps simply sad solidarity, who knew? A shopkeeper’s lad brought out fresh crates of fruit and took in the empty ones with very little gusto, as though a meaningless task to keep the mind distracted by occupying the body.

“This isn’t beautiful.”

“No, I mean for one that couple over there is totally mismatched,” he agreed, “But that’s not what I’m seeing. Yes, some of this emotion hanging over this city like a cloud right now – over this whole country and beyond – is simply fear of what comes next. But fear is never the full story. Anger and hate are not what it’s all about. It’s simpler than that – it’s compassion.”

“When tragedy happens, when the world is shocked by something like this – it shows us two things. It shows us that there is true, genuine darkness and evil in the world that we can never let win. And it shows us the endless ability of the heart to feel compassion, indiscriminate and unconditional love.”

“What is going to happen now is that there will be so many posts on social media about ‘we stand with York’, ‘we love you York’ and all that stuff. Yes, some people will consider it to be disingenuous and insincere but in truth, a part of it is not. We are social beings that define ourselves through our relationships with others and a loss so great makes us feel. Hits us in the core of our social being, every single one of us. Loss connects us. And sometimes the only way people know how to help in such a messed up helpless situation is to put a sticker on their profile picture. Yes, it’s tacky, but it’s also sometimes a symbol, a reminder – that we are not all bad.”

“I know it will never heal the pain and it will never undo the things that have been done. But knowing that the capacity is there – knowing that the people we’re fighting for are basically decent, good people with compassion in their hearts – it gives me hope.”

He finished his little speech and though Sandy wanted to believe him, the monster in her heart wouldn’t let her. She didn’t feel compassion, she felt despair and pain, guilt worming its way to fan the dragon of her anger, coiled around what remained of her blackened heart.

“For every moment it seems like this God has abandoned us,” he continued after a moment, “There is a moment like this one.”

“You making a speech is hardly a miracle from God, you egotistical prick,” she threw back at him.

“No,” he agreed, “but the fact that your dad didn’t go back to York when you told him and is standing over there is.”

She glared at him, followed the direction of his gaze and saw her dad at the bottom of the steps as if twenty-four hours hadn’t passed and he’d simply been there the whole time. An illusion, a trick of time.

Emotions burst in her that she didn’t know how to feel – it had been too long. One was elation, it propelled her to her feet and to rush down the steps. She almost stumbled as without words she threw her arms around him and gave him an uncharacteristic hug.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t think you’d turn into a complete soft arse,” Rick called sarcastically from behind her. “What’s next? A knitting circle?”

She stepped back self-consciously, pushing away tears that threatened to sting her eyes. She couldn’t describe or put into words the melting pot she was feeling but she did know that she’d only hugged a few people in her life and never one with such furious vigour her boobs felt bruised. She shuffled awkwardly.

“Sorry, I just…thought you were melting somewhere, and that because I couldn’t stop the missile I’d killed you,” she concisely explained.

“I don’t understand much of that sentence, Cass, but I’ll go with it,” he responded, likewise awkwardly.

“Also sorry for being a complete bitch, but it’s far easier to hate someone and push them away while they’re still alive, y’know?” she continued, “I mean, when you were dead-not-dead it kind of made me realise that we should, y’know…maybe go for a coffee sometime?” Before he could respond another thought dawned on her and she said aloud, “Oh God, Jackie…”

“It’s okay, she’s fine,” he responded, “She came with me yesterday and is currently sitting watching the news in the Travelodge. Clutching actual pearls. Cass, what is going on?”

“It’s a long story,” she tried to throw off, not sure how she was going to explain in a nutshell the very complicated steaming pile which had become her life.

“She’s a superhero, Mr Harris,” Rick added helpfully from nearby, taking the job out of her hands. “We’re currently trying to stop the Second Horseman of the Apocalypse inhabiting a clone of my dead ex from starting World War III.”

To his credit, her father simply squinted at Rick, looked at her and shrugged.

“Can I help?”

“Well, currently unless you have a way to smuggle us into the city passed the army so we can convince the PM of what’s truly going on before he retaliates…” Rick answered. At that point, her father looked at the two of them like they were idiots. “What?”

“They’re only letting in emergency services, right?” he asked them. It began to dawn on her. “Have you both forgot what I do for a living?”

She turned, looking up at Rick who was grinning.

“See, Sandy, that there – that’s hope.”