Page 42 of All Superheroes Need PR
She captures the moment he finds the first car, the one he previously emptied, and follows him as he digs deeper into the snow, melting it and pushing it aside like a heavy curtain with his hands. He heads in one direction, like he knows exactly where he’s going, and soon enough, a second car appears. Monika hangs back here.
The photos that come through are sensational. Margerie’s already on the phone with news outlets, and soon, in a crazy twist, I start to see Monika’s photos appearing on the screen in front of me, moments after they first hit my phone.
“This is incredible material, coming from The Riot Creative’s war journalist, Monika Neumann. For those who don’t know, The RiotCreative’s founder and CEO is the Wyvern’s partner, Vanessa Theriot. I am told that she is watching our coverage live, as I speak ...”
“Oh shit, that’s us! I took that pic!” Luca points at the screen, startling Mani so badly, he knocks his water glass off the table. It hits the ground, blessedly empty, but Mani’s alert now and staring at his own face on the TV. “Shit, I needed more than five grand for that,” Luca says.
“Too late,” Margerie quips.
My face is hotter than the sun as the image Margerie just posted on the Wyvern’s official page hits the TV. My face looks huge and frightened and hopeful. My brothers look appropriately impressed. Margerie looks concentrated and concerned. And then the image switches to the one I posted, from the back, showing the screen with the reporter we’re still watching. And then, in a strange twist of time, all that falls away, and the reporter is speaking once more, showing images of the Wyvern coming up the dark, scary shaft as they’re sent by Monika.
“Monika Neumann is one of the best in the business, if I may say so myself, though I’m being toldFemastaff aren’t particularly pleased, and there may be fines for The Riot Creative after all this is over, and ... oh. I’m just getting word that we’re getting footage frominsidethe car. This is incredible stuff, people ... I certainly hope that you all at home are holding on to your chairs—including Vanessa, who must undoubtedly be feeling strong emotion for her boyfriend. Hang in there, sweetheart. It looks like the Wyvern is about to make another rescue ...”
“Sweetheart?” Margerie makes a gagging sound. I don’t love it either, but I’m too stunned watching the scene unfold.
A very shaky phone camera is transmitting to a social media live stream—good grief. The news report has captured the footage and is broadcasting it far and wide. Heart messages and crying emojis clutter the screen as they crop up. I see darkness and then the flash of light and then hear the Wyvern’s voice before I see him.
“That girl alive?”
“We ... don’t know ... She got hit hard ... by the snow.” The female voice speaking is shaky. She’s shivering that badly. “We dragged her in ...”
The Wyvern looks at the one speaking, just above the camera. His chest starts to glow, flames licking up and down his chest and abdomen before disappearing. They come in easy waves like surf on the shore. He keeps it up as he looks around, his face hardening. “Are you alone?”
“Nobody’s been ... they ... I don’t know.” She starts to cry.
“You’re doing great, kid,” he says in a low voice. “Can you move at all?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t move then.” The camera goes dark as the fire on his chest goes out and he reaches for the girl holding the phone. There’s shuffling fabric and a muffled voice—Roland’s—asking, “How many in the car?”
“Seven.”
“Seven. Is that including you? What’s your name?”
“M-M-Mallory Zh-Zhu. And y-yeah.”
“Did somebody leave the car?”
“Br-Brian Hughes. He’s the b-best climber. T-t-tried to g-get help.”
The Wyvern makes a gruff sound and turns. The camera flashes back out and I catch a glimpse of a woman with dark hair crouching in the absolutely terrifying snow tunnel. She’s got a flashlight in her hand that blinds the camera for a moment before she points it at the wall.
There’s grunting, and the Wyvern keeps moving, passing Monika in the death corridor. A few moments later, a few more pictures hit my screen.
The Wyvern is carrying so many bodies, he’s almost unrecognizable as a human—or, I guess, as the being that he is. I can hear the sounds of his struggle with each step he takes, transmitted through the TV. Meanwhile, I pass on the images to Margerie, who hisses at what she sees. “Jesus Christ, this guy is a beast.”
“I wanna see.” Luca dives across the room to look over Margerie’s shoulder at the computer screen.
The news coverage finally pans back to the world beyond the hell that had swallowed the Wyvern up, and we see him emerging from the snow, carrying so many people, I can’t count them all. He collapses as he drops the last one to the ground, landing on one knee, and I make a sound that’s even higher than a squeak. My phone is buzzing, but I don’t reach for it. I can’t. My bones are all shaking. I think I’m trembling as badly as the girl he pulled out of the car.
“He’s gonna be okay,” Charles says at my side.
I nod, wanting to believe him so badly.
There’s so much shuffling and commotion happening, it takes some time before the Wyvern is standing again. There are medical personnel swarming him, but he waves them off and staggers back toward the opening in the ground.
“What are you doing?” a doctor shouts. A Black woman with tight ringlets. She grabs his arm. “You need to rest. Your heart rate ...”
