I’m Not Him

By Emily Hague

“Glitch, have you disabled that security system yet?”

I scowled, my radio squealing with feedback as Zephyrus shot past. “Give me a minute, geez. Have you ever hacked through a next-gen firewall while dodging actual fireballs?”

He just laughed. It always amazed me how he could laugh at times like this. How many times had we been here? Two boys, surrounded by monsters, fighting our way across Cloud City’s skyline. I ducked another burst of flame, fingers tearing across a keypad. Zeph passed overhead again, doing an aerial summersault and slamming into his attacker feet-first. I paused for a moment to watch as they grappled, man against beast, reflected a hundred times by the windows of skyscrapers surrounding the hospital. He was made for this—if not literally engineered like the fire-breather he wrestled, then ordained by some forgotten gods.

“Glitch, focus!”

I jumped, concentrating on my screen. If Zeph was destined for this, I had stumbled blindfolded into it. “Field-ready, I am not,” I muttered.

Zephyrus growled, finally landing a hit somewhere fatal. “No kidding.” He chuckled, shoving the creature’s hairy corpse off his chest. “I hate to break it to you, dude, but I’ve seen my grandmother handle herself better in a fight.”

“Of course you have! She can bench-press 1,000 pounds! There, done.” I stood, stepping up to the edge of the hospital’s tin roof beside my best friend. The eight-story drop made my knees weak, and I quickly looked up, focusing on the distant target. “The tower’s security system is down. There should be a computer terminal regulating the monsters’ coolant systems on the top floor. Turn that off, and kaboom—it’s night-night, Sparky.”

He snorted. “Sparky?”

“You know? They’re hairy. Like dogs. And they breathe fire. Sparky? Oh, never mind!”

He laughed, patting me on the back. “Good work, Rain Man. See you on the other side.”

I grabbed Zeph’s arm, making him meet my eyes. “Be careful.”

Zephyrus smiled. “Hey, it’s flipping a switch. Piece of cake, right?” Then he jumped. My heart stuttered, the way it did every time. But, as it did every time, the wind caught him, lifting him high overhead until he blurred, rocketing towards the distant rooftop.

I held my breath as he slowed near the sleek glass walls. He’d opted for stealth rather than speed, hoping that the rest of the building’s monstrous guards would be looking out from the roof, not down.

He climbed, the wind pushing him higher and higher. I let out my breath. He could do this.

The glass shattered.

One of the flaming brutes burst through the wall of the tower, catching Zephyrus in mid-air. I watched him fall, and this time the wind didn’t catch him. He was pinned beneath the beast as both of them plummeted toward Earth.

I thought I heard him hit. Impossible. It was too far off. But I could swear I heard the thud, the sickening crunch of snapping bones.

For a moment, everything was silent. I swayed on the lip of the roof. The spot where he’d left me fifty seconds before. Fifty seconds? It felt like an hour, maybe more.

And still, in my mind, he fell.

A roar shook the sky. Ears ringing, I watched the monster, a bloody, hairy thing, neither human nor animal, scaling the tower wall, flames puffing behind bared fangs. I sat down hard, watching with sick horror as the monster climbed back up from the ground to its post.

Zeph would be furious. “All that,” he’d say, “and I couldn’t even take him down with me.”

I sat for a long time, watching more and more of the fire-breathers crawl from that hole in the glass—nightmares that came in all shapes and sizes. They rushed down the building’s walls and into the city, ready to hunt.

Gradually, the world came back to me: first the scent of smoke on the air, then the screams. Sirens blared; blue and red lights flashed across downtown. There was more red, now, though—the monsters were free, and the fires were spreading.

I watched him fall. Again and again.

“Glitch, focus!”

I jerked to my feet, fingers stiff as I pulled out my only weapon. The screen glowed. I typed swiftly, bypassing firewalls and rerouting networks.

Finally, I propped up my screen, stepping back. I hesitated. He was made for this. He was, not me. What was I doing? I watched him fall, heard his laugh, heard him say, “Hey, it’s flipping a switch. Piece of cake, right?”

I took a breath, looked into the camera, and pressed broadcast.

All across the city, screens winked on. Jumbotrons, televisions, and mobile phones lit up with my face. And when I spoke, everyone heard me.

“People of Cloud City, I… you don’t know me. I’m not the one you normally see on these roofs. I know you’re wondering why Zephyrus hasn’t saved us. That’s because… because he can’t. Not this time. Zephyrus—” I stopped, forcing air into my lungs. “Zeph died trying to save us. He saw a way to stop the monsters, and he went for it. While everyone else ran away, while everyone else watched—he tried.”

I turned the camera then, pointing it toward the shining spire, letting them see the monsters that had killed my friend. “That tower is the key. If we can get to the top, we can stop them. There’s a switch; flip it, and it’s over. The monsters self-destruct.”

I looked back into the lens, feeling thousands of eyes peering out.

“I know I’m not him. I wasn’t meant for battle, but this is my home. Your home. We can save it. I’m going to try, but I won’t make it alone. Get to the tower, reach the top, and flip the switch. One of us will make it. We have to.” I smiled. “Good luck. I’ll see you on the other side.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Hague is a high school senior with the bad habit of writing fiction instead of finishing her homework. She also enjoys acting, drawing, and singing in the shower. When not writing, Emily can be found swimming in scholarship applications, fangirling over the Marvel universe, and avoiding cleaning her room. She currently lives in Oregon with her family.