Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen Heroes surround me. The comic book store is full of them. I'm circled by life-size cardboard cutouts from movies and comics, and I feel like they're watching me. Luke Cage. Gambit. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Wonder Woman. Ash Ketchum. Growing up an orphan, I was raised by these heroes, in a way. They showed me how to act, how to be. Could I be tempted by .e...c.? I don't know. Maybe. I'm not perfect. But to fold? To give in? To abandon all good in hopes of saving my own skin? In front of these guys? As Wolverine would say: "No way, bub." If .e...c. wanted my help, Comically Speaking was the wrong place to bargain...

No, I am Jack Sullivan PROTECTOR OF FRIENDS, DEFENDER OF THE REALM and MASTER CREATOR AND KEEPER OF ALL THINGS RADICALLY FUN And above all, POST-APOCALYPTIC ACTION HERO And no one messes with Earth on my watch. The ground rocks as the King Wretch's talons pierce and split the floor. In the fleshy window, .e...c. growls. "SO BE IT, HERO. IF YOU WILL NOT HELP ME, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED. I WILL FIND ANOTHER HUMAN TO USHER ME INTO EARTH." The King Wretch's head jerks upward and I see pain rack his body. His tail slithers, snakes, and snaps as .e...c. growls, "NOW, JACK SULLIVAN, I WILL WATCH AS YOU PERISH, ALONE..."

A voice suddenly slices through the room: "He won't be alone anytime soon!" I whirl around. June! The rear door's barricade is being tossed to the side. I see Biggun clearing the rubble and my friends rushing inside. Dirk stomps, carrying the High-Strike hammer, and— GRAAKKK The King Wretch howls and buckles! .e...c. flashes and emits a pained cry. I know he's not hurt hurt, but we have snapped him out of

his portal—and now his voice is slithering, thinning. .e...c. gives a single, final order to the King Wretch: "TAKE YOUR FOLLOWERS AND DESTROY THE TOWN! DESTROY THE MONSTERS THAT LIVE THERE! DESTROY JACK'S FRIENDS! LEAVE YOUNG JACK FOR LAST.... I WANT HIM TO SEE THE MISTAKE HE HAS MADE.... I WANT TO SEE HIM SUFFER...." The King Wretch snarls, and then with a tremendous burst, the monster erupts upward and rockets through the ceiling, and vanishes. I turn to my friends. We need to hurry—but I just want to spend a second taking them in. Thanks for coming for What else did you expect? The store? The comics? There were valuable first issues here, irreplaceable.

"Did you see that freaking army of Winged Wretches outside?" I ask. "Yep," Dirk says. "Why do you think we took the back door?" "They're still out there..." I say, trying to wrap my head around that horror—but then I think of something else entirely: "Wait! THE RADIO! What happened with the radio?" "It's still on the roller coaster," June says. "Wait—but—you left it?" I ask. "It's alone there, unprotected?!" June simply says, "We were in a hurry to save our friend." I don't know how to respond. The radio was so important. The radio was EVERYTHING. And now it's just sitting there, unprotected, at the top of the Thunder Coaster. But— WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! We all whirl. A new sound: like an army of helicopters lifting off in some awesome Arnold action movie. I push open the front door. The tiny bell chimes again—a reminder that we're in a small-town comic book store. We're someplace normal and

wholesome and okay. And that makes it all worse, because what I'm looking at is so not normal and not wholesome and not okay. All twelve Winged Wretches are rising, following their leader, the King Wretch. .e...c. ordered the King Wretch to destroy the town—and that's what he's doing. The King Wretch is taking his army to make that second, horrific nightmare-vision—tree house burning, friends gone, monsters destroyed—become a cold and gruesome reality.... "C'mon, gang. We've got friends to save, evil to defeat, and butt-whoopin' to do."