Flash Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Also Available from Titan Books

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  ALSO AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS:

  ARROW: VENGEANCE

  by Oscar Balderrama and Lauren Certo

  And continuing from

  FLASH: THE HAUNTING OF BARRY ALLEN:

  ARROW: GENERATION OF VIPERS

  by Clay and Susan Griffith (March 2017)

  THE FLASH: THE HAUNTING OF BARRY ALLEN

  Print edition ISBN: 9781785651410

  E-book edition ISBN: 9781785651427

  Published by Titan Books

  A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

  144 Southwark St, London SE1 0UP

  First edition: November 2016

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2016 DC Comics

  THE FLASH and all related characters and elements © & ™ DC Comics and

  Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. DC LOGO: TM & © DC Comics.

  WB SHIELD: TM & © WBEI (s16)

  TIBO37513

  Visit our website: www.titanbooks.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  DEDICATION

  This book is for the incredible cast and crew of The Flash led by Grant Gustin who all showed us that you can tell stories about a man who wears a red costume and runs fast, and still make us cry.

  1

  My name is Barry Allen and I am the fastest man alive. I solve my problems by running faster. Always faster…

  * * *

  Running is a solitary experience. Even in a crowded marathon, a runner’s world shrinks with each pounding foot, each carefully controlled beat of the heart, every steady draw of breath.

  At least that’s what Barry believed. It’s not like he was ever on a track team. Most of his life, the only time he’d run was when he was late—which was often.

  Then he was struck by lightning, literally, and he became more than Barry Allen. He became the Flash, and he learned a lot more about running, particularly running at unnaturally high speeds. He also learned that he never ran just to run. The Flash ran to help people, because that’s what a hero did.

  Even so, he could achieve his own coveted runner’s high, and disappear. Everything around him melted away, and Barry was alone with his speed. It became his sanctuary.

  Except when Cisco Ramon and the S.T.A.R Labs team buzzed in his ear.

  * * *

  “Barry! We have a four-seventy on highway sixty-four near mile marker one oh three.”

  Every word crackled with eagerness.

  “A forgery? On a highway?”

  “Four-fifteen,” Caitlin Snow interrupted calmly. “Reckless driver.”

  “Auto transport rig.” Cisco lost none of his excitement. “It’s carrying a bunch of vintage Corvettes.”

  “How do you still not know the police codes?” Caitlin demanded.

  “Not my fault!”

  As the friendly bickering continued, regardless of the fact that the audio feed was still live, the Flash pushed up his speed, veering toward the east side of Central City. The world slipped past. At this velocity everything appeared to stand absolutely still, and he focused tightly on the narrow corridor ahead as he darted back and forth and over and under any obstacles in his path.

  Within seconds he spotted the careening vehicle.

  A massive trailer truck loaded with eight cars swerved across the center of a busy six-lane highway, traffic clustered loosely all around. The rig hit the median rail and bounced high into the air. The chains and straps holding cars snapped, sending shiny Corvettes tumbling into the air like out-of-control missiles.

  Tires screeched as drivers swerved and reacted in desperation.

  The Flash poured it on and lightning flickered around him, sparking everything with a living glow. The sounds of the disaster echoed oddly. The decibels dropped to a low-pitched hum.

  Seven of the cars on the highway were about to smash into other vehicles or be crushed by flying Corvettes. If that happened, more would follow.

  A man in his fifties jerked the steering wheel so hard the right-side wheels of his Audi came off the ground. The Flash pulled alongside, and his hand vibrated the locked door, shifting the mechanism. As the car began tilting, he pulled it open, unfastened the seatbelt, and pulled the driver out, depositing the man on a grassy shoulder as his car completed its flip and slid along the pavement on its roof, sending out cascades of sparks.

  The driver’s hands were still outstretched, as if gripping the steering wheel.

  Yet another car spun toward the massive wheels of the trailer. It was a model that had one of those defective airbags announced on the news. He didn’t want to find out if it would fail. The Flash pulled an elderly lady from behind the wheel…

  …when suddenly his speed force wavered.

  For just a nanosecond.

  A sudden twinge gripped him, as if time blinked for a moment. He let go of the woman, leaving her suspended above the pavement.

  What the…

  Then as if it had been his imagination, it was gone. Instantly he reached out, grabbing the woman just before she connected with the highway. He left her on the same shoulder of the road. Another instant trip into the chaos brought the truck driver to safety. He reeked of liquor.

  Four more cars, four impacts averted. That left only one last vehicle, and there were at least eight seconds before the little economy car was crushed to a pancake. Plenty of time.

  He was at the car in one.

  Through the window, a woman’s terrified face greeted him, frozen in place. Her arm stretched to protect the small boy in the back seat, who looked confused and frightened at the same time, slowly beginning to comprehend the danger, staring at his mom. Reaching for her.

  One of the Corvettes tumbled straight for the little car, and the woman tried to swerve. She wouldn’t make it. A meticulously restored cherry-red ’65 model hovered just inches from smashing through her windshield. It moved slowly, but with inexorable certainty. The Flash moved his head a centimete
r to avoid the Corvette’s side mirror.

  Six seconds.

  He had an eternity to study the passengers. The only things moving were sparks of red electricity. The woman looked familiar for some reason. She was young, too young to die, yet he could see in her eyes that she recognized her fate. Seconds from the end and her only thought was to reach for her son.

  Resolve sang in the Flash as he vibrated his hand through the door lock and sprung it open. He worked quickly to pull them both from the car as the Corvette’s hood crept closer, pressing into the windshield with aching slowness. The glass cracked gradually, as if a spider was slowly spinning a web. The boy’s lips moved by minuscule degrees. Barry made out the word. The boy called out for his mother, one last time.

  Four seconds.

  The Flash grabbed both the mother and son, their bodies pliable as they hung in suspended time. He had to pay attention when interacting with people who weren’t moving at his speed. If he gripped them wrong, the friction might leave terrible burns, or he could easily rip off an arm if in his heroic zeal he exerted too much pressure.

  He could kill the people he attempted to save.

  Wrapping up the boy with his left arm, the Flash pulled the woman close on his right before placing a foot on the car’s fender. The trunk began to lift into the air as the Corvette’s impact gradually shoved the front end into the pavement.

  Three seconds.

  The Flash propelled himself across the road, bending to duck under the rig itself as it tipped onto its side. He stopped just for an instant at a metallic blue sports car well out of the way of the truck or its flying cargo. It barreled toward the rear of a braking vehicle. The driver couldn’t react in time.

  Shifting his grip on the woman, the Flash let go of her for a moment. She hung in the speed force, her expression just starting to alter from terror to surprise as she sensed something changing. He used that time to open the door and press the man’s foot hard down onto the brake pedal. Then his arm wrapped around the woman once again and he was off.

  One second.

  The Flash skidded to a halt on the small patch of grass. The world jolted to its normal pace. Keeping his grip on the boy, he set the woman gently on the ground, holding her for a moment to steady her on her feet as her perceptions shifted.

  The hum disappeared and the air filled with the impacts of cars and an explosion of twisted metal. People screamed and ducked as the now empty vehicles collided. Barry felt the small boy’s hand clutch at him. The man in the blue sports car slammed on his brakes just in time. Cars behind the chaos screeched to a halt in a burn of rubber.

  The speed of the events rocked the woman on her heels. She croaked out one word.

  “Dean.”

  “He’s here. He’s safe.” The Flash shifted the boy from his arms to hers. She let out a short sob, wrapping her son in a tight embrace. It took her a moment to grasp the reality of what happened, now that her son was in her arms.

  She looked up and recognized the scarlet costume.

  The boy responded quicker, his eyes wide.

  “It’s the Flash!” That air of awe and admiration never got old.

  “You’re a very lucky kid.” He certainly didn’t mean the car accident. He smiled warmly at the mother.

  “You saved him,” the mother gasped out. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Are you all right?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” She pressed her son’s head against her face.

  The Flash laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “You stay here and take care of your mom.”

  Then he was gone as he sped around the crash site, ensuring everyone was safe and making sure fires were out. By then, emergency vehicles wailed in the distance. He stopped again by Dean and his mother. The woman appeared to have recovered. Barry finally recognized her. She worked at the coffee shop he usually visited, C.C. Jitters. Her name was Lily.

  “You two still doing all right?” he asked.

  The woman appeared stunned.

  The boy nodded fiercely. He looked to be about ten years old. The narrowness of his escape hadn’t processed yet, and hopefully it never would. Seeing the Flash had shoved everything else to the side at least for the moment. To him, this was an adventure.

  “I can’t wait to tell my friends I met you!” Dean put his hands on his head as if his brain would explode with excitement. The Flash wished he had something to offer the kid. Searching the ground, he found a small piece of wood and picked it up. Vibrating his finger rapidly, he used the friction to burn his name into the wood, and then held it out.

  The boy clutched it like it was a golden ticket.

  Lily blushed under the Flash’s gaze.

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  The Flash gave her a warm smile, gently nodding. “You already did.” The fire trucks arrived, and he turned toward the emergency personnel who began running toward the crash with first-aid kits and oxygen tanks. He recognized Captain Sandoval, who gave him a thumbs up as the men spread out to attend the shocked and wounded.

  Lifting a hand to wave, the Flash sped off.

  “No casualties,” he announced over his suit comm link. “Well, unless you count the Corvettes.”

  “Corvettes? Nooooo,” came the dismal wail.

  “Cars can be replaced,” Caitlin stated.

  “Not vintage Corvettes,” Cisco protested. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Barry could picture the roll of her eyes even as he zipped away.

  “Are you coming in?” she asked the Flash.

  “Maybe later, guys,” he replied. “I’ve got to catch up on some work, and then I’ve got dinner plans.”

  2

  The West house had been Barry’s home since he was eleven. Since the terrible night his mother, Nora Allen, was murdered and his father, Henry, was arrested for the crime. Convicted and sent to prison.

  Barry had been cast adrift.

  Joe West had taken him in and given Barry everything he needed—a sanctuary, understanding, space, and most of all, unconditional love. Joe had also provided the boundaries that a kid needed, even though Barry challenged them at times.

  The Wests weren’t rich. Joe didn’t make a lot of money on a cop’s salary. There were long hours when he wasn’t home… but Iris was. Joe’s daughter. Being the same age, Barry and Iris had formed a solidarity. Her friendship had allowed him to remain a child, even through the life-shaping events that had shattered his world.

  The house was small but, as with most bungalows, the design gave the illusion of space. Family mementoes dotted the shelves. Hues of browns and yellows gave it warmth that seeped into Barry as he entered through the front door.

  Pots clattered in the kitchen. Iris was home. Something smelled wonderful. As he walked in, her slender frame was bent over the oven door from which the delectable aroma came. She turned toward him.

  “What’s for dinner?” Barry stepped up next to her, taking a deep sniff.

  “Chicken parmesan.” A natural smile flashed wide across her face as she slipped on an oven mitt.

  “My favorite!”

  She cast him a curious sidelong glance. “You say that about every meal.”

  “I’ve never said that about quiche.”

  Her sweet laugh filled the room as she pulled out three full trays of baked chicken breasts heaped with decadent red sauce and oozing mozzarella cheese. Barry’s belly gurgled at the sight. His elevated metabolism needed refueling. Even though her hands were full, he gave her an elated sideways hug.

  “You are the best!”

  “They had a sale at the market, and I figured you’d be hungry after all the running around you did.”

  “You saw it?”

  “I was sent to cover the story, but you’d already darted off before I could get an interview.” Iris waved a tray under his nose. “I thought maybe I could snag one tonight, after dinner.”

  “Done!” Barry exclaimed, reaching for the cupboards to collect plates
. “Is Joe going to make it home in time for dinner?”

  “He texted me he was on his way, as long as he doesn’t get called back in for some emergency.” She frowned. “I’d like at least one family meal where none of us are running off in the middle of it.”

  As Barry moved to set the table, the front door opened.

  “You made it.”

  Joe West closed the door behind him and smiled. He set his keys and wallet on the side table. “I could say the same about you.” There was a spring in his step as he walked over and clapped an arm around Barry. “Good to have you home for dinner. Even better that I don’t have to cook it.”

  Though Barry and Joe were the same height—just over six feet tall—Joe was broader and more muscular than his wiry foster son. His tie was loose, and he had a perpetually rumpled look about him. There was a softness in his deep voice and a gentleness in his eyes.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Barry said.

  “It was a good day today,” Joe replied cryptically, and he didn’t stop grinning. Barry’s curiosity was piqued.

  “Promotion? Pay raise? A vacation?”

  “I’ll tell you over dinner.”

  Before Barry could press, Iris came into the dining room wearing oven mitts and carrying a baking tray filled with steaming chicken. Her face lit up at the sight of her father.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said. “Go get changed. We’ll have everything ready by the time you come down.”

  The detective’s grin broadened. “Won’t take me but a minute.” The big man pulled his badge and service revolver and headed for the stairs. “I want at least three of those so don’t let Barry get a head start!” he said over his shoulder as he reached the landing.

  Iris shook her head. “Some things never change.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t always the Flash,” Barry protested. “It’s not my fault I have a crazy metabolism to maintain.”

  “No, but even when you were a kid, the two of you always competed at mealtimes. I was lucky to get table scraps—it’s a wonder I didn’t starve.”

  “Well, you’ve always been a little thin.”

  Iris raised an eyebrow, and he shut up.

  “Go get the garlic bread and the salad, would you?” she said. Grateful for the change in subject, Barry slipped past her to do as he had been instructed. On his way back he helped himself to a couple of slices. Either Iris didn’t notice, or she was all too used to his table manners.