Wally West's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Wally West ran with a vial of cure strapped to his chest, and the heat was killing his speed. A sandstorm was swallowing cities behind him. He had to reach the last settlement before the sand did. But the heatwave turned the air to soup. Each step came slower than the last. His legs, which once blurred, now dragged like wet rope. Sweat stung his eyes. His red suit clung to him. The lightning bolt on his chest felt like a brand. He pushed harder, but his vision swam. Numbers scrolled in his head, the math he always ran. At this pace, he would collapse in minutes. The settlement was too far. The storm was too close. He needed to cool down. Fast. Or the cure would die in the sand with him. Then he saw it. A small wooden shelter sat alone on the flat ground. Its sloped roof threw a wedge of shade. Wally stumbled toward it and fell through the open doorway. The dark inside hit him like water. He gasped and pressed his back to the cool planks. "You look half-cooked." A boy crouched in the corner. He wore the same red and yellow suit, the same lightning bolt. Wally knew him at once. His son. The kid had run off three days ago, swearing he could help with the delivery. Wally had told him to stay home. The boy never listened. "You're supposed to be back at base," Wally said. His voice cracked. Wally West jr held up a small white fan. Its curved frame gleamed in the dark. "Good thing I'm not." He thumbed the power button. The blades spun and threw cool air across his father's face. "Found it in here. Been charging off the sun all day." Wally closed his eyes and let the breeze work. His skin stopped burning. The pounding in his skull eased. He felt his pulse slow from a hammer to a drum. The boy angled the fan at Wally's neck, then his chest, cooling the vial too. "Keep it on me," Wally said. "Just a minute more." The boy obeyed. For once. The two of them sat in the shade while the fan hummed. Outside, the sky had gone the color of rust. The storm wall rose on the horizon, taller than before. Wally stood. His legs held. The dizziness was gone. He could run again. "Thanks," he said. He reached for the vial. His hand stopped. The strap hung loose. The glass had cracked when he fell through the door. A thin line of cure had leaked into the dust, already drunk by the dry ground. Half the dose was gone. The boy stared at the broken vial. "Dad. Is that enough to save them?" Wally didn't answer. He didn't know. And the storm was coming.