Where am I?
That was the first question that popped into her head when she opened her eyes upon waking up and saw the unfamiliar surroundings. That first question was immediately followed by a myriad of other questions.
How did I get here, wherever here is?
What happened?
Who were those people?
What people?
As the questions chased each other in her mind, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Okay, Kathy, let's take one question at a time, she told herself. First, let's find out where I am.
At least "Who am I?" hadn't been one of the questions. She was relieved to discover that she still knew exactly who she was. She was Kathy Norris, a junior in Journalism at the state university. Twenty years old, almost twenty-one, single and currently unattached, since she and her boyfriend had broken up recently. Both parents back in the Midwest. An only child, no brothers or sisters. An apartment two blocks from the campus. Work-study program at the Chronicle, the second largest newspaper in the city. Nothing unfamiliar there.
Opening her eyes again, she slowly looked around. The room had four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. So far, so good. Nothing too unusual.
There were doors on two of the walls. Drapes were pulled across a third, apparently covering a window. So far, so good. Nothing too unusual yet.
The television was a little unusual. No, not the television itself, currently turned off and showing a dark blank screen. There was nothing unusual about the television itself. But its position in the corner of the room seemed a little strange, mounted on a rack near the ceiling. She certainly didn't have anything like that at home. She couldn't remember ever seeing one mounted like that.
No, wait a second. Yes, she could remember seeing them like that.
In hospital rooms.
Looking around, she saw the little things that set hospital rooms apart from others. The blood pressure thingy mounted on the wall near her bed. The bed high above the floor. The metal rails on the sides of the bed. The table/tray besides the bed.
So I'm in a hospital. What am I doing in a hospital? she asked herself. What's wrong with me?
There was no easy answer. She didn't feel any pain. There were no tubes stuck in her arms. Her arms and legs seemed to move fine when she tried to move them. But she did feel an emptiness in her stomach, nothing painful, she was just famished.
So, if there's nothing wrong with me, why am I here in a hospital?
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. The first person in the room was a nurse. Seeing that Kathy was awake, she immediately dashed back out, to return less than a minute later. She was followed by a man who looked like a doctor. He in turn was followed by two men in business suits and ties.
"So, how are we feeling today, young lady?" the doctor asked.
"I don't know how I felt yesterday, but I feel fine today," she replied. "But I'm hungry. I feel like I could eat a horse."
"That's a good sign. You've been in a coma for two days. And we couldn't feed you intravenously the second day." He directed the nurse to fetch a meal for his patient.
"Where am I? What am I doing here?"
"One at a time. You're at Saint Luke's. You were found right outside the emergency room two nights ago."
"Saint Luke's? The emergency room?" That was the biggest hospital in the city --- and had the best emergency facilities --- but it was clear across on the other side of the city from where she lived and went to school. "How did I get here?"
"We were hoping that you could tell us, Miss." This was the older man with salt-and-pepper hair in the brown suit. He flashed a badge at her. "I'm Detective Henry Miller. This," he indicated the other, younger, man in the blue suit, who also flashed a badge, "is my partner, Detective Randall Johnston."
Under other circumstances, Kathy might have been interested in getting to know Detective Randall Johnston a little better. Straight jet hair, deep blue eyes, and such broad shoulders. Instead, she turned towards the older of the two men. "I wish I knew, Detective Miller. But I don't remember anything about coming here at all."
"Why don't we start with who you are, Miss? Do you remember your name?"
"Of course I remember my name. I've had it my whole life. My name is Kathy Norris."
"Full name?"
"Katherine Jean Norris. That's Katherine with a 'K', not with a 'C'." Johnson wrote it down in his little notebook.
When he asked for her address, she gave it to him. Johnston made more notes in his notebook. Miller continued on. "What do you do, Ms. Norris?"
"I'm a Journalism student at the university. I'm a junior. I work part-time at the Chronicle." A nasty suspicion sneaked into her mind. "Look, Detective, am I under arrest or something?"
"No, no, Ms. Norris. But you showed up at the hospital, in a coma, with not a stitch of clothing on you. No identification. We didn't even know who were, until you just told us."
The doctor spoke up again. "If you'll pardon me, she is still my patient. I'd like to examine her first, before you officers grill her."
"Certainly, Doctor. I'm sorry. Please call us when you're through. We'll be waiting outside." Miller nodded to Johnston, who closed his notebook and followed Miller out.
"Hello, Kathy Norris. I'm Doctor Jonathan Metzger," he introduced himself as he took her wrist and measured her pulse. Then he took his stethoscope out of his pocket. The stethoscope was cold --- as required by standard medical practice --- but Kathy felt no discomfort when he placed it against her skin.
"Is it true, what he just said?" she asked when he had finished and put the stethoscope back in his pocket.
He picked up the clipboard hanging on the end of the bed and made some notations. "What? That you just magically showed up here, naked and unconscious? Yes, I was on duty that night. A gurney nearly ran you over outside the emergency room while bringing in a car accident victim."
"Why was I in a coma? What's wrong with me, Doctor?"
"Absolutely nothing, as far as I can tell. You're in perfect health. I'd love to take credit for your recovery, but I haven't done a thing except to get you in here and look in on you every few hours. There was nothing wrong with you when you showed up here, except that you were unconscious. Not a mark on you. When you didn't regain consciousness, we tried to feed you intravenously, but we had a devil of a time doing that."
The explanation was interrupted by the nurse bringing in a tray of food. The doctor attached the table to the side of the tray while the nurse elevated the head of the bed and fluffed up a pillow to help Kathy sit up. "Nurse, would you keep the gentlemen of the police from interrupting her again until she's finished eating?"
"Certain, Dr. Metzger."
It was the usual bland unidentifiable hospital food, but Kathy attacked it with fervor. She ate every bit of it, not really caring what it was. She probably would have licked the plates clean if the nurse hadn't been standing over her watching. Instead, she asked for, and received, a complete second meal, which she finished off as quickly as the first.
After the nurse took the second tray away, and Kathy had had a chance to use the bathroom, the police detectives returned. Despite their questions, she could not account for her arrival here at Saint Luke's Hospital.
In fact, there was an entire week that she could not account for. She had last been in class on Wednesday night, and now it was the following Wednesday. She had been found at the hospital Monday night. She had absolutely no recollections of the intervening time.
She noticed that Detective Johnston kept looking at her, as if he recognized her. But she couldn't remember ever seeing him before. I don't know what he sees in me. No makeup, and my hair must be a total mess. Though I wouldn't mind seeing him again.
After a while more spent not getting anywhere, the two detectives left. Now that she was alone and the emptiness in her stomach had been filled, all she wanted to do was to sleep.
But it was not easy falling asleep. In her mind's eye, she kept seeing Detective Johnston and his deep blue eyes. A girl could get lost in those eyes. After some tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed, she finally fell asleep.
Detective Randall Johnston also encountered trouble going to sleep that night. There was something about that girl, that Kathy Norris, and her deep blue eyes. Eyes just like the ones that looked back at him in the mirror every time he shaved. No one else had eyes like that.
He knew that he should keep his professional detachment. This was just another case. And not one of his usual cases, either. He usually worked with the narcotics squad. This case had fallen into his lap simply because he and his partner had been the closest team when the hospital had called.
Yes, he really should keep his professional detachment. She probably already had a boyfriend. He really shouldn't get involved.
But those eyes...
Not that the rest of her --- what he had been able to see in that hospital bed --- was too bad.
But those eyes...
The entire room was on fire. As she huddled in the corner of the room, trying to find a way out, the burning ceiling started to collapse. She saw one of the heavy timbers falling towards her. She tried to get out of the way, but she was completely surrounded by the fire. And her legs still wouldn't work. She screamed...
Kathy sat up and opened her eyes. Realizing that the blood-curdling sound was coming from her own mouth, she stopped screaming. Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, she looked around. Nothing was burning. She was still in the hospital bed. Relaxing a little further, she unclenched her hands from the railing around the bed.
Several nurses gathered around her bed, all of them acting worried about her.
"It's okay. I just had a nightmare," she told them.
The nurses started leaving, relieved. One, an older woman, perhaps the head nurse on duty, stayed behind a little longer to make sure that she indeed was all right. "Do you want something to help you sleep?" she asked.
"No, I think I can sleep. From what they've told me, I've been doing it for the last two days. I should be able to do it for one more night."
"Okay, Ms. Norris, but if you decide that you want some sleeping pills, just press that call button there." She indicated the button on the wall next to the bed. She turned her head as she went out the door. "Good night."
Despite her assurances, Kathy could not get back to sleep. That nightmare had been too vivid, too realistic. It was also all too familiar. Slowly, it all started to come back to her.
It was Wednesday night. Wednesday night of last week, from what she had learned. After her night class, she was taking her usual shortcut through the Physics building, rather than walking all the way around it, her knapsack slung over one shoulder. As usual at this time of night, it was almost deserted.
She was walking through the last corridor, between the labs, when a large man, completely naked except for something that looked like a pair of black swim trunks, came flying out of a door just ahead of her and to her right. Literally flying, he was bent over double, moving back first, his arms and legs trailing behind him. He smashed into the cinder wall on the left side of the corridor, pieces of the splintered door falling about him. Not just into the wall, but practically through it.
As she stood there, amazed that a human body could do that much damage to a thick cinder wall, she was surprised to see two hands emerge from the hole amidst a cloud of cinder dust. How could a man possibly survive such a collision?
She saw the bulging muscles on his arms as he pulled himself out of the hole. Getting up to his feet, he charged back into the room from whence he had just come. She was just about to turn and run back the way she had just come, when something came through the right wall. A big piece of cinder hit her in the side, knocking her against the left wall and stunning her.
When she came to, she saw that she was in the still in the corridor. There was pain in chest and in both of her legs. She saw that there was a large wooden beam lying across her legs. With some effort, she managed to push it off. Somehow, that only seemed to make the pain in her legs even worse. She tried to stand up, but fell in agony as she felt the pain shoot up both legs. Damn, they must be broken, she thought to herself. Now, how am I going to get outta here?
On her stomach, using her arms, she crawled through the nearest door, into a lab. The pain in her side was excruciating. Dragging her legs behind her didn't lessen the pain in them any. Just across the threshold, she passed out from the pain.
When she came to again, she saw that the room was burning. She also saw that she was not alone in the room.
A man and a woman were apparently fighting. Not just verbally arguing, but actually physically fighting. Surprisingly, the woman seemed to be getting the better of the much bigger man. The young blonde woman, wearing something that looked like a red swimsuit, had the black-haired man in black trunks down on the floor. He had his right hand on the bottom of the deeply dished front of her suit, as if he was trying to tear it off of her. She had her left hand on his right wrist to keep him from doing it, and her right hand was going for his throat. Her deep blue eyes burned with determination.
Kathy could see the big bulging muscles on both of them; they both looked as if they could be bodybuilders. They seemed totally oblivious to the fire as the woman lifted the man off of the floor and flung him across the room, against the wall, and practically through the wall. The woman charged after him.
The man ripped a cinderblock from the wall. He hurled it at the woman, hitting her in the chest. Much to Kathy's surprise, the cinderblock shattered on impact, the impact not even slowing down her charge. She ripped a support beam out of the wall, swinging it like an impossibly gigantic baseball bat, hitting the man with it, sending him completely through the wall and into the room on the other side, even as the beam shattered from the impact.
Then she saw another black-haired man in black trunks spring up from the floor and launch himself at the back of the woman like a linebacker tackling a ball carrier. The force of the hit drove both of them crashing into the wall, and right through the wall.
Kathy shook her head trying to clear it. Had she really seen what she thought she had seen? Three bodies going through a wooden wall? She must have, there were two large holes in the wall not more than fifteen feet from her. She could still hear the sounds of the fight from the other side, so the woman and at least one of the men were still alive and conscious after going through that wall. She was amazed that anybody could still be alive, let alone conscious and fighting, after that.
The fire was a more immediate concern, however. She started crawling towards the door when something across the room exploded, spreading the fire throughout the room, and cutting her off from the door. She crawled in the only direction she could, into a corner. Then the burning ceiling started to collapse. She screamed.
The next thing she knew, she was waking up in this hospital bed. Unhurt from the fire, and apparently with nothing wrong with her side or her legs. She had been sure that some ribs and both legs had been broken.
In the morning Dr. Metzger made his rounds. She asked him to check out her ribs and her legs. After doing so, he assured that --- just like the rest of her body --- there was absolutely nothing wrong with them. And she had been sure that she had broken some ribs and both of her legs.
The two detectives came in as soon as the doctor left. "I remembered something about last Wednesday," she told them. "The Physics building. The explosion. The fire."
"Easy, easy. Slow down, Ms. Norris," Detective Miller said, standing over her and holding up his hands. Detective Johnston sat down in a chair and whipped out his notebook and pen, preparing to take notes. "Now take it easy. What do you remember?"
"It was Wednesday night. After my last class, I was walking home. I took this shortcut through the Physics building."
"Is that the way you usually go home?" Miller asked. "I mean, walking and all that."
"Yes, I always walk to school. My apartment's only two blocks from campus. It's quicker than driving and trying to find someplace to park. Besides, I don't have a car."
"How about the Physics building? Do you usually cut through it?"
"Yes. It's easier than walking around the building. I only walk through the corridors. It's not like I'm interrupting any classes or anything like that." She wasn't sure whether she should mention anything about the three people she had seen in there. She decided to leave out that part for now. If questioned about it later, she could always claim that her memory was still fuzzy.
"Go on, Ms. Norris," Miller prompted. "You were walking through the Physics building."
"Well, I was almost through the building when there was a fire and an explosion. I was trapped in the fire. The ceiling collapsed on me. Th-that's the last thing I remember."
"Do you know what caused the fire, or the explosion, Ms. Norris?"
"No, I don't. I assume the fire caused the explosion, but what started the fire, or what blew up, I don't know. I haven't taken any Physics since high school. I'm sorry."
"That's all right, Ms. Norris. I just had to ask." He exchanged a glance with Johnston, before asking her more questions. "Do you remember how you got here? If something had happened to you on campus, wouldn't it make more sense for you to be at the University Medical Center, or at Mercy Hospital, instead of clear across the city here at Saint Luke's? And why did it take you five days to get here. Where were you between Wednesday and Monday?"
"I'm sorry, I don't know. I just remember the ceiling collapsing on me, and then waking up here yesterday, just before you came in. I don't remember anything in between."
"Okay, thank you, Ms. Norris. We did some checking around. Your professors remembered seeing you in class on Wednesday and not seeing you after that. Your boss at the Chronicle said that you haven't been in since last Tuesday."
She saw the two detectives exchange glances again as Johnston closed his notebook. They stood up to leave. "Ms. Norris? If it's okay with you, I'm going to ask Dr. Metzger to keep you here another day. We'd like to come back tomorrow to see if you remember anything else. Would that be okay with you?"
"He's the doctor. Whatever he says is fine with me."
"Very good. Thank you, Ms. Norris."
"Thank you, Ms. Norris. We'll see you tomorrow." That was the first time Detective Johnston had spoken to her. His voice sounded even better than she had imagined it would.
The next morning, when the two detectives came by, Kathy had nothing new for them. Afterwards, after another examination, Dr. Metzger pronounced Kathy Norris as fit as a fiddle and discharged her from the hospital and gave her instructions to take it easy for the weekend. He had found a set of sweats for her to wear home. The two detectives then drove her across the city to her apartment.
Once there they had to see Mr. Simmons, the apartment manager, to let her in to her room since she didn't have her own keys any more. He also had a box of mail for her, since her mailbox had overflowed, a week's supply of newspapers, and a FedEx package.
Mr. and Mrs. Simmons were a kindly older couple, who saw themselves as foster parents for the students who made up the bulk of their tenants. Each of the students could count on at least one home-cooked meal every semester. The Simmons were overjoyed to see Kathy; until the hospital called them two days ago they had been going bananas worrying about her. Kathy gladly accepted Mrs. Simmons' invitation for dinner that evening.
The two detectives helped her carry everything up to her top-floor apartment. After making sure that she would be okay, they left after making her promise that she would call them if she remembered anything else about the fire at the Physics building. Detective Johnston smiled at her as he said goodbye.
The first thing to do is get dressed, she thought to herself. No, that can wait. A bath first. Yes, a nice hot soak in the tub.
While she waited for the tub to fill she quickly looked through her accumulated mail. A couple of magazines, some bills, and a lot of junk. Nothing that needed immediate attention. She then turned to the FedEx package.
There was no return address. Upon opening it, she was surprised to discover her own knapsack in it. Somewhat charred on the outside, the contents seemed to be in good shape. Her textbooks and class notes were safely inside. So was her purse. It contained her makeup, a pack of tissues, her keys, and her wallet. Everything seemed in place. Her checkbook was there, along with her credit cards, driver's license, university ID, and even her money. There was no note or letter to indicate who had found and sent her things back to her. Setting everything aside, she went back to the bathroom and the tub, which was now just about full.
After soaking and relaxing until the water turned tepid, she got out and dried herself off. Then she started to get dressed. Her jeans felt a little loose around the waist. Well, if I hadn't eaten for two days, I guess I should have lost some weight. But not only were they too loose, they also seemed to be a little too short. Maybe it's about time I bought a new pair.
The problems with the jeans were nothing compared to the problems with the bra. But instead of being too loose, it was too tight. She had to let it out two notches. And even then, the cups were too tight. About two full cup sizes, she estimated.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. It was the same person she'd always seen in the mirror, but were there some subtle differences? Yes, the hair was a little lighter, almost gold in color. It was also straighter; she'd always had somewhat wavy hair before. Her skin was a little smoother --- and darker --- as if she had gotten a good tan. And her eyes were clearer, bluer than she could remember ever seeing them before.
She looked lower. Yes, her breasts did look larger and fuller, and firmer, sitting high and proud on her chest, only a slight teardrop shape as they barely acknowledged the presence of gravity. And her waist was narrower than she'd ever been able to get it, even when she had been on that yucky diet plan last year.
Looking even lower, she saw her ankles sticking out below the cuffs of her jeans. She quickly slipped out of her jeans to take a look at her legs. They did look longer. And they were shapelier --- even if she did say so herself --- with her calves quite nicely rounded.
She'd always taken care of her body, but deep down, she knew that she was only about average. But now, the total picture looked like something straight out of a Playboy centerfold. She now had a body that could make a supermodel turn green with envy. Whatever it was that Dr. Metzer had done for her, if he could only bottle it, he could make a fortune off of it.
With her new breasts standing so proudly on her chest, she decided that she could do without a bra, at least for today. After all, she wasn't going anywhere. Well, there was dinner with the Simmons. But they were practically family, she wouldn't have to dress up for that. She was just going to be sitting around the apartment for the weekend. Though she might have to go shopping for a new wardrobe. She slipped on a tee shirt and put her jeans back on.
When she got to the kitchen to fix herself a late lunch, she realized that she definitely would have to go shopping this weekend. Some of the food in the refrigerator was going bad, from sitting there for over a week. She made do with what she had, and spent much of the afternoon throwing out the stuff that had gone or was about to go bad.
After dinner with the Simmons she went straight to bed. She had no trouble falling asleep, and no nightmares awoke her in the middle of the night.
Saturday morning, after a simple little breakfast, she took the bus for the fifteen-minute ride to the mall. She bought a pair of bras, even though she wasn't totally convinced that she needed any. As she had estimated yesterday, she was two full cup sizes larger than she had been before. She bought herself a couple of pairs of jeans. I guess I can make cut-offs out of my old jeans. While she was at it, she couldn't help but pick up a new blouse. Then she walked across the parking lot to the supermarket to do her grocery shopping.
Monday morning found Kathy back in school wearing a pair of her new jeans. She had spent some time in front of the mirror, debating how much makeup to wear. She ended up wearing none; somehow her face didn't seem to require any. She had on one of her new bras under her new blouse, though it chafed a little. She was surprised at how easy the two-block walk seemed to be. I guess the rest did do me some good.
She had to go around the Physics building instead of taking her usual shortcut. The building was a total loss after the fire, and it was cordoned off. She learned that the classes had been relocated to other buildings, mostly the Chemistry and Engineering buildings.
In her classes, she noticed that the guys seemed to look at her chest more than they ever had before. They must think I got myself a Wonderbra.
When she went home for lunch, she also removed her bra. Looking in the mirror, she could hardly see any difference in her profile. With her blouse on, it was hard to tell that she wasn't wearing a bra, the protruding nipples being the biggest hint. She went the rest of the week without wearing a bra. She was beginning to regret having spent the money.
Friday afternoon found her at the student union with a couple of other students from her last class, discussing their homework for the weekend. The student union seemed a little rowdier than usuall she thought that she could hear every conversation in the room, even the people on the other side of the room seemed to be talking loud enough for her to hear. She had finished her coffee and had just gotten up to leave when she saw her ex-boyfriend coming towards her.
Nick, like herself, was a junior. He played linebacker on the university football team. They had been dating for the past year and a half. At least they had been dating until she had seen him at a party about a month ago with another girl.
He caught up to her before she could get away, taking her arm. "Hey, Kathy. With your twenty-first birthday coming up in a couple of weeks, how 'bout you and I get together to celebrate?"
"Don't you have another girl to be celebrating with, Nick?"
"Oh, c'mon, Kathy. You're not still sore about that, are you? I haven't even seen her since then. You're the only girl in my life."
"Uh huh. Sure I am. How many girls have you said that to this week?"
"C'mon, Kathy. At least let me walk you home."
Knowing that he'd come along anyway even if she refused, she agreed. He came with her all the way up to her top-floor apartment. She stopped in front of her door and turned to face him. "Thank you for walking me home, Nick. Good night."
"C'mon, Kathy. Let me in."
"No, Nick. Good night."
He put his arms around her. "C'mon, Kathy." He tried to steal a kiss from her.
She slapped him with the palm of her open right hand. Much to her surprise, he went staggering across the hallway, hitting the wall on the other side.
He shook his head to clear it. He looked at her in surprise, rubbing the side of his face. "You shouldn't have done that, Kathy." Then he came towards her again.
She put her hands out in front of her. Just as they clasped hands, she stepped to the side. She was surprised again when the action sent him flying down the hallway, and then bouncing along the carpeted floor, before finally ending up in a heap about twenty feet away.
Suddenly worried that somehow she might have hurt him, she dashed over to him. Kneeling down, she determined that he had just been knocked unconscious. Getting her keys out of her purse, she opened her door. Then she went back to him.
Even though he weighed nearly twice what she did, she discovered that she could easily carry him. She carried him into her apartment and laid him down on her couch.
She suddenly had a wild idea. Sliding her right hand under him, she raised it straight up. She had no trouble holding his entire weight with just one hand. Amzed with herself, he set him back down on the couch.
Putting her right hand under the couch, she raised it straight up. She had to quickly reach out with her left hand to balance it and to keep from dumping Nick. Finding the balance point, she was able to effortlessly hold both the couch and Nick up over her head with just one hand.
Setting the couch back down on the floor, she went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Coming back, she splashed it on his face. This time, when she told him to leave, he didn't argue with her at all. In fact, he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to leave. She thought that now she was firmly his ex-girlfriend. She certainly hoped so.
She wondered about what she had just done. She took good care of her body, but she'd never really considered herself to be very athletic. Certainly she was no match for an athlete like Nick the football player.
Yet a simple slap had sent him staggering across the hallway. Then she had somehow flung him twenty feet down the hallway. And afterwards! Lifting up the couch, with Nick lying on it, over her head with just one hand. That was unbelievable!
Experimentally, she pushed up her sleeve and flexed her arm. She gasped in amazement when she saw the immense biceps rising up out of her slender arm. It was far bigger than anything Nick had ever shown her had been, and he was justifiably proud of his muscles.
As she tried to sleep that night, her mind kept replaying the evening's events over and over in her mind. Just how had she gotten so strong so suddenly? It just wasn't possible for somebody to be that strong, was it?
Just before she fell asleep, she remembered that there apparently were at least three people who were that strong. Three people, who for some reason, were fighting in the Physics building as it burned.
Kathy felt a little uncomfortable going down to the swimming pool at her apartment complex. She had discovered that Saturday morning that her old swimsuits fit her no better than her old bras had. The only thing that would fit was a frilly little thing that a friend had given her as a gag gift. She had thought that it was ridiculous, something that only a Las Vegas showgirl would wear. She had never before worn it in public. As she tried it on, she discovered that she didn't feel ridiculous in it. In fact, she liked the way she looked in it. She had never looked --- or felt --- so sexy before.
She was unaccustomed to the attention she was drawing from the guys around the pool. She had never drawn this much attention before, even in her skimpiest bikini.
She also discovered that she kind of liked the attention that she was drawing. Not only from the guys, but also some from the girls, as well.
As she basked in the sun --- and the guys' looks --- she read her History textbook, preparing for the exam coming up on Monday. She kept hearing a metallic clanging sound over the music blaring from the CD players that some people had brought out. She had long ago learned how to tune out music while studying, but this clanging was different.
Looking around she discovered that some of the guys had brought out the weights from the indoor gym and had set them up by the pool. The clanging was coming from a huge barbell that one of them was bench pressing.
She thought back to the previous evening, when she had lifted the couch --- with Nick still on it --- over her head with just one arm. Wondering whether she still had that strength, she closed her book and walked over. As she got closer, she saw that the lifter was the biggest guy around. Muscles bulged on his arms and on his chest with each repetition. Fine beads of sweat glistened on his chest and on his arms as he strained against the weight. She waited until he finished his set and racked the weight.
Steve Nelson knew that most of the other guys came out here to lift weights to try to impress the babes. But he was here for a serious workout. He was the heavyweight on the university wrestling team. He held all of the team records for weightlifting. And if the babes were impressed by his physique, so be it. But he already had a girlfriend. Tammy was a cheerleader, and he was happy with her. Though she was out of town for the weekend, having gone to visit her parents.
"You guys mind if I give it a try?"
Steve turned around at the sound of the sweet melodic voice. His eyes popped out as he saw the owner of the voice. A beautiful blonde babe --- one that he hadn't seen before --- was standing by the weight. She was wearing a black bikini lined with white fringes. She was holding one of the smaller weight disks in her hand.
The bikini did absolutely nothing to conceal her gorgeous body; this babe was really built! She could make his cheerleader girlfriend look like a boy.
With his girlfriend out of town, this babe would make a great substitute. Hell, this babe would make a great replacement. Especially if she was interested in weightlifting; Tammy was a dancer, and didn't care much for weights.
And even if he couldn't get this babe into bed with him, it would still be interesting to watch her lift. Interesting, and very scenic.
"Sure thing, honey. Let me take some of the weights off of here for you."
"No, that's okay, let me try it like this first, with everything on it."
Before he could protest, she reached out with her right hand and grasped the bar. He gasped in amazement as she curled the weight smoothly up to her chest. With just one arm! An arm that now bulged with muscles, muscles far larger than his own. As her biceps expanded, he felt something else expanding, as his shorts got tighter. Looking at her other arm, he saw that it was still as slender as ever.
"Thanks," she said, racking the weight.
"How... how did you do that?" he asked. "It's... it's all I can do to bench press that, and you just curled it with one arm. "
"I'm not sure. I've been feeling pretty strong lately, and I just wondered whether I could do it or not."
"Pretty strong? That was incredible. Nobody can do that."
"Well, thanks anyway. I guess I know I can do that." With that, she put down the disk and turned around, starting to walk off.
"Wait! Show me again. Can you teach me how to do that? Whatever you did to get that strong?"
"Sorry, I have to get back to my studying. Thanks for letting me use your weights."
"No, wait!" But she kept walking, picking up her books and her towel, and headed in. About a minute later, he realized that he hadn't even gotten her name. And he couldn't remember ever seeing her here before. If he had, he certainly would have remembered her.
By Monday morning Kathy had decided that she needed to see a doctor. But her family doctor was back home; she had never been to a doctor here since she had come to school. Before going to her first class she called Dr. Metzger at Saint Luke's Hospital. He sounded genuinely happy to hear from her. When she told him of her concerns, he readily agreed to see her that very day at his office across the street from Saint Luke's Hospital. After her last class, she took the next available bus across town.
"There's still absolutely nothing wrong with you, Kathy," Dr. Metzger told her after he had just given her a full physical examination. "You're in perfect health."
"But I can't be, Doctor. There's something wrong with me." She continued buttoning up her blouse. "Something happened to me that week."
He shook his head. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Kathy. You're the healthiest person I've ever seen."
"You just measured me, Doctor. How tall am I?"
He looked down at the chart in his hand. "You're five-seven, Kathy."
"I'm supposed to be five-five, Doctor. I've been five-five since high school. I was five-five at the start of the semester. How could I have grown two inches in one week? I had to buy new jeans when I got home from the hospital." She refrained from mentioning the need for new bras.
"And you said that I had a hard time with the IV. Why was that? What happened?"
"Oh, that? Your skin was extremely tough. We simply had a hard time piercing it."
"Well, maybe there's nothing wrong with me. But not everything is right, either, Doctor."
"What do you mean, Kathy? What's not right?"
She looked around the room. Her eyes fell on a large filing cabinet in the corner. She thought back to how she had lifted the couch in her apartment, and that weight by the pool. "Is that cabinet full, Doctor?" she asked, pointing to it.
"What? Oh, that one? It's filled with my oldest patient records. The ones before we started computerizing the office. Why do you ask?"
"Could you lift it, Doctor?"
"What? Are you kidding? I suppose if we emptied it, I might be able to lift it." He took a deep breath. "Look, Kathy, where are you going with this?"
She hopped off of the examining table onto her feet. "Right here." Squatting down at the base of the cabinet, she put her left hand on its side and tilted it over, sliding her right hand underneath it. Lifting it up as she slowly straightened her legs, she pressed the filing cabinet over her head with just her right hand. She knew that it had to weigh several hundred pounds, but it felt no different than putting a book on a high shelf.
She turned around to face him, still holding the cabinet over her head with one hand. "Now, Dr. Metzger, are you still sure that there's nothing wrong with me?"
Dr. Metzger was gaping at her, his mouth and eyes wide open, the chart having fallen forgotten from his hands. "What the...? How...?" he finally managed to stammer out.
She turned around and set the filing cabinet down. She then turned back around to face the doctor and sat back down on the examination table. "You're supposed to be the doctor, Dr. Metzger. You tell me."
"I... I don't know what to say, Kathy." He sat down in his chair, with his head slumped down in thought. Then he looked up and snapped his fingers. "Hmm, I wonder. Do you have time, Kathy? I'd like to show you something across the street at the hospital."
"Whatever's happened to me, it's obviously going to affect me for the rest of my life. I think I have the time, Doctor."
"Good. Please come with me." He led her across the street to the hospital, taking her to the wing where she had stayed. He got one of the duty nurses to open a storage room for her. Turning on the light, he led her in.
He rummaged around in the back, and came back with two long pieces of metal. "They replaced the railing on your bed after we discharged you. At the time, I didn't think much of it, just figured that it was age or something." He showed her one of the rails. There was a damaged section, about three inches long. It was clearly deformed and crushed.
Kathy took the rail and looked at it. The crushed portion was just the size of her hand. She remembered her first night at the hospital. The first night that she wasn't in a coma, that is. "I woke up screaming after a nightmare. And my hands were on the rails." She closed her hand on an undamaged portion of the rail. Tendons popped out on the back of her hand as she squeezed. When she opened her hand, there was another deformed and crushed portion of the rail, just like the first one. "It looks like it was me, Doctor."
"Th-that's solid stainless steel!"
"I told you there was something not quite right with me, Doctor. Can you tell me what's happened to me?"
"I... I don't know, Kathy. It's just not medically possible. Human muscles just can't generate that much power. Nor can human flesh possibly be hard enough to crush steel like that."
"You should probably talk to the police about this," he told her after they had returned to his office. "Do you know how to contact those two detectives that interviewed you?"
"Yes, I still have their cards."
She left Dr. Metzger's office with too many unanswered questions.
Kathy had been thinking about what Dr. Metzger had told her, about talking to the police. She finally decided to do so, to tell them about the three people she had seen in the Physics building during the fire. Just maybe, she might be able to learn something about all of the recent changes that have happened to her.
Calling, she spoke with Detective Johnston. When he asked whether she could come to the station to talk, she agreed to come during her lunch break, after her morning classes and before going to work at the Chronicle.
When she got to the station, she was relieved when Detective Johnston came out almost immediately to escort her back to his desk. Somehow, she was gladdened when he told her that Detective Miller, his partner, was away on some other case for the day. She also liked the way that he looked at her, now that she didn't look like a hospital patient. As she sat down across his desk from him, he sat down and pulled out his notebook. "What did you want to talk to us about, Ms. Norris?"
"Something's been bothering me about that night in the Physics building. There were three people fighting in there."
"We discovered no bodies in there after the fire. If there were any students in there, then they must have gotten out safely. Do you know who they were?"
"I never saw them before. But I don't think they were students." She went on to describe some of the things she had seen in there, their bodies smashing through cinder walls, the woman ripping out a beam from the wall.
"A woman?" He perked up. "One of them was a woman? Can you describe her?"
Kathy described the woman as best she could remember. When she mentioned the red swimsuit, he held up his hand.
"Hold on a sec there, Ms. Norris." He bent down, opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and started rummaging around in there. He came back out with a thick file folder, which he then opened and began rifling through the papers in there. Taking one out, he handed it across the desk to her. "Was it her?"
Kathy looked at the piece of paper. It was apparently a page from a supermarket tabloid. There were three color photographs, all apparently of the same blonde woman, though she was wearing different clothing in each one. The middle one showed her in the same red swimsuit that Kathy remembered seeing. "Yes, that's her. Who is she?"
"She's known as SuperFemme."
"I've heard of her. But I've always just assumed that she was just some kind of publicity stunt for a movie or something. I've never seen her on CNN or anything like that."
"I like to think she that she's real." Randall realized that this was the first time he had ever told any woman that. He hated to admit it, but he'd had a crush on her ever since he'd seen the first tabloid article about her, back in his early teens.
"So just who is she?"
"There's a lot of wild ideas about her, but not much is known for sure. But she does seem to be on our side. Assuming that she's real, of course."
"Who were those men she was fighting?"
"I think they were what SuperFemme calls Arions. According to her, the Arions are trying to infiltrate and invade the Earth. They apparently have powers that rival hers."
"Do you think that this SuperFemme rescued me from the fire and brought me to the hospital?"
"It's possible, but that still doesn't explain why it took her five days. We'd still like to know what happened in that time." He glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Say, speaking of time, have you had lunch yet?"
He walked her to a deli around the corner from the station. Getting their sandwiches to go, they went across the street to the little park and sat down on the grass to talk and to eat. Before they were halfway finished with eating, they weren't talking as "Ms. Norris" and "Detective Johnston" any more, but instead they were "Kathy" and "Randall".
And they weren't talking about SuperFemme, or the fire at the Physics building, either. She told him about her journalism studies. She told him about growing up in the Midwest, and about spending her summers with the horses at her uncle's ranch. She listened as he told her about his football career at a junior college before he gave it up to concentrate on his studies when he got to a four-year school. He told her about his work as a detective.
When they had finished their little picnic lunch and were just sitting on the grass, she reached out and put her hand on his. When he didn't pull his hand back, she started working her fingers up his thickly muscled arm. She ran her hand lightly across the front of his chest, tracing his large pecs through his shirt with her index finger. He sighed and leaned back, until he was lying on his back on the grass. She continued tracing his pecs with her fingertips.
Randall knew that he was a strong man, unusually strong. Freakishly strong, even. He'd never encountered a man who was his equal. He didn't think that there was anybody on the planet as strong as he was, outside of that SuperFemme and those Arions of hers.
Yet this girl had just forced him down to the ground with just one hand. And she was forcing the air out of his lungs, with just the pressure of her slim fingers on his chest. She didn't even look like she was exerting herself. In fact, she seemed unaware of the pressure she was exerting on him. He put both hands on her arm and tried to free himself. He was surprised to discover that he couldn't budge her arm even a single inch.
Then Kathy felt his hands on her arm and heard him gasping for breath. Looking at his face, she saw that he was grimacing in pain, struggling to breathe. She realized that he hadn't leaned back, but that she had forced him down with just her finger in the middle of his broad muscular chest, and that now she was exerting enough pressure on his chest to make it difficult for him to breathe.
She quickly snatched her hand back. "Oh, I'm sorry, Randall," she apologized as he coughed, trying to get his breath back. "I didn't realize I was using that much force."
"What...? How...?" he gasped out.
"I'm sorry, Randall," she repeated. "I'm stronger than I look, and sometimes I forget it."
It look him a while to get his breath back. "You're stronger than you look? I'm stronger than I look. I've never met anybody who was stronger than I am. I'm about four or five times stronger than an ordinary man my size. I didn't think there was anybody stronger than I am, except for that SuperFemme and those Arion dudes of hers. But you just forced me down and almost crushed my chest with just one hand."
She wondered whether there was any connection between her new strength and his unusual strength. "How did you get to be so strong?"
"I don't think I did anything special. I was born that way. All through high school and college, I've had to hold myself back so that I wouldn't stand out as a freak. Even on the football field, I've had to hold back my strength and quickness."
"Why did you become a policeman? You could have made a fortune in pro sports."
"It may sound silly to you, but I wanted to do some good in the world. And if I was some kind of freak, it wouldn't be fair for me to compete in sports."
"A freak? Why would anybody think that you're a freak?"
He looked around the park, and then pushed up his sleeve and flexed an arm. She saw the second biggest biceps she had ever seen up close, even bigger than those in the bodybuilding magazines that Nick sometimes had shown her were. "When I was playing football, I always had to hold myself back, to not use all of my strength."
"What about your parents? Are they like you, too?"
He hesitated before answering. "I, I never knew my parents. I grew up in an orphanage until I was adopted when I was seven."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's okay. The Johnstons always treated me as if I was their own. They died in a car crash last year."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Will you quit saying that you're sorry for things that had nothing to do with you?"
"I'm sor... Oops, can I say that?" Their shared laughter completely changed the mood.
She thought back to what he had told her about SuperFemme, and those men she had been fighting. "Are you...? Could you be, what did you call them? Could you be an Arion yourself?"
"No, I don't think so. According to those tabloids, those Arion dudes can toss cars and buses around. I could maybe toss a motorcycle around, but that would be about it. And they're also bulletproof." He stroked his chin and grinned. "I can still cut myself shaving."
As they were getting ready to walk back to the station, he asked her again about her strength.
"Flex your arm again for me," she said. When he did so, she reached out and put her hands on it. Even with both hands, she couldn't come close to surrounding it. Putting her right hand on top of his biceps, she gave it a light squeeze. She heard him wince in pain. She immediately let go as he straightened his arm, rubbing it with his other hand.
As he rubbed his arm, she pushed up the sleeve on her tee shirt. She then flexed. She saw his eyes widen as her biceps expanded to match his in size. He stopped rubbing his arm and put his hands on her arm. "Ready?" she asked. When he looked back at her without any signs of comprehension, she put some effort into her flex. She saw his jaw drop as her biceps expanded some more, positively dwarfing his.
Randall was stunned. He had never before seen anybody with biceps as big as his were. Not until just now, when this girl had flexed her previously slender arm. He reached out to feel her arm. Her skin was as smooth as silk to his touch, but her arm felt as hard as a marble statue.
He gasped as she flexed further, causing the peak of her biceps to rise several more inches. He squeezed it with all of his strength, but he discovered that he couldn't even make the slightest dent in that mass of muscle.
"How, how did you get muscles like this?"
"I know I wasn't born like this," Kathy answered. I think it had something to do with those five missing days in my life. I didn't know anything about it until a week after I got home from the hospital. Though it apparently had already happened by the time I woke up." She told him about the crushed railings that Dr. Metzger had shown her and about the incident with her ex-boyfriend. She told him about how she had had to buy new jeans, though she wasn't about to tell a man about her new bras. Nor about how she'd almost never worn those new bras.
Sitting at his desk back at the station, he asked her a few more questions about the fire at the Physics building. She answered as best she could. Then she accepted his offer to drive her to her work at the newspaper.
As he dropped her off at the Chronicle, he fired one more question at her. "Uh, would you care to have dinner with me this Friday? I mean, if you're not busy or anything?"
"That depends on who's asking. Is it Detective Johnston or is it Randall who's asking? Are you being professional or are you being personal?"
"Uh, Randall. Personal. I'm asking Kathy, not Ms. Norris."
"I'd love to have dinner with you Friday, Randall."
"Great. I'll pick you up at six."
"I'll be waiting, Randall."
"Thank you, Kathy."
"You're supposed to thank me after the date, aren't you?"
He simply smiled and waved.