DEMIGODS

TWO

TWO

D’ANDRE WALKER rose from his bed to gaze out of the smeary glass at the grimy urban landscape below. The big event was about to begin. He turned to his doorway, and he set out walking by himself toward the recreation room. Already the kids shouted and wrenched chairs around to sit near the big TV screen.

D'Andre trudged ahead.

Nurse Shondra called from down the hallway. “Hey D'Andre? I brought that robot chair just for you. Don't you wanna check it out?”

“Naw.” He waved her off, and he claimed a seat at the back of the rec room. Everybody gathered to watch the live coverage.

The show began as usual. Out on a grassy hilltop a bunch of reporters clustered. News camera people, politicians, and in the center of it all was a little white girl named Erica Tate. The screen said she was ten, and she wore a flight suit, the kind people jumped out of airplanes in.

D'Andre watched intently, his hands quaking with anticipation.

The media circus turned skyward, and the cameras hunted across fluffy clouds. Off in the distance a little dot descended from above.

The entire hospital ward screamed out with glee. D'Andre couldn't hear the TV anymore. The kids went so wild, pointing at the screen, arguing, pushing, and pulling each other.

He ignored them to watch the landing.

Text scrolled from the news station and said that the dot was Steve “Lab Rat” Arkin, but everyone already knew that. Supernatural Steve floated easily down to the center of the hilltop and landed softly beside Erica Tate and all of the TV show people.

The kids in the rec room chattered and pointed.

Reporters described the details.

Another graphic read, ERICA TATE, SQUAMOUS CELL CARCINOMA.

D'Andre tolerated the smiling spokespeople, who pushed their microphones in at Supernatural Steve, yelling silly questions.

D'Andre leaned forward, considering whether to stand up and move in closer to hear. “Come on. Let him talk!”

Assistants prepared Erica Tate to ride on Steve Arkin’s back, like a tandem parachute.

Supernatural Steve gave a speech at the microphone.

“The Wish to Dream Foundation is a great place,” he said, “and it needs your support. So write ‘em a check, or click on their website. Help these kids out, okay? They need all the help they can get.” He nodded, and then he relinquished the microphone to some suit.

A local politician shook Steve’s hand for a photo-op with fast flashes from the cameras.

On Steve’s back, Erica Tate adjusted her flight goggles, wearing ear buds. A drink holder was clipped onto Steve's shoulder.

He said, “Ready?”

The girl, Erica, said instantly, “Yeah. Let’s bolt.” She held her thumb up.

The rec room at the Bronx Children's Hospital exploded with cheers, as the pair flew straight up away from the crowd. Erica’s helmet camera broadcast the feed. TV cameras whipped to follow Steve and Erica’s quick ascent into the clouds.

The room faded away. D’Andre felt too tired to watch the rest of the show. Leaning up against the back wall of the rec room, he fell asleep.