Day 13

[from Electron]

It was morning when Aaron awoke. He couldn't quite remember how he came to be lying here; most likely he had crashed on his way to the shop. Looking up, someone had had the decency to park his bike at the side of the road, but nobody, it seemed, had had the decency to check if he was okay. Perhaps nobody had seen him. Where he had been sent tumbling into the parked car, he was lying with his legs beneath it, his left arm across his body and his right hand resting against the car door.

He tried to roll over, away from the car, to push himself back onto his feet, and this was when he received his first indication that something was wrong. His right hand would not leave the metal bodywork of the car, no matter how hard he pulled. It was as though someone had superglued his hand to the door. Perhaps they had, for a joke.

He moved his left hand towards his right one, to try and tug it free, and this was when he received the second indication that something was wrong. The moment it came within about six inches of the car, his other hand was suddenly yanked against the car's body by some unseen force, joining his right hand there, and try as he might he could free neither of them. "What the hell is going on here?" he wondered aloud.

Aaron continued to try and tug his hands free of the car, to no avail. After a couple of minutes, he began to get frustrated, as anyone would if their hands were suddenly glued to a car. "Come on, you piece of junk," he grunted, "let... me... GO!"

At this, the car and Aaron finally came apart, but not in the expected way. There was a blinding flash; Aaron staggered backwards several feet, from both the force of his tugging and the brightness of the light. The car, meanwhile, was propelled at considerable speed right into the house it was parked outside, demolishing the front wall. Nobody seemed to be hurt, but the car was a write-off, and the house hadn't fared much better.

Aaron was so stunned by what had happened that he didn't notice an oncoming car about to run him down. The driver slammed on the brakes, only for them to lock. But instead of striking Aaron, the car seemed to crash into thin air, suddenly flipping up and soaring right over Aaron's head before crashing down onto its roof and skidding to a halt.

One cannot cause this much destruction in the middle of a suburban neighbourhood without attracting attention, and so as Aaron continued to stand flabbergasted in the middle of the road, a crowd began to gather around the carnage he had accidentally caused. The family in the house he had partially demolished shakily stepped out into their ruined front yard, tiptoeing around the totalled car lying amongst the rubble. A couple of the teenage spectators took out their phones and began filming or taking pictures of the destruction. Some of the more sensible adults began to call 911, although of course they were at a loss as to how to explain precisely what had happened. All anyone seemed to know was that two cars and a house had been severely damaged, and the man in biker fatigues standing dazed in the road seemed to be responsible.

Eventually, a man in the crowd realized what was happening. He took out his phone and dialled not 911, but 787, the emergency number for the Superhero Regulatory Department. On the third ring a cool female voice answered. "Hello, SHRED Emergency Department. How can I help?"

"Hi, I'm calling from Aventura, Florida," said the man. "I think there's been an Awakening."