Issue 23: "Flash of Infinite Worlds!"

“Well, that was boring,” the Flash declared as the Treadmill re-appeared and he decelerated. Only a few seconds had passed for him, but Ray’s chronometers read two minutes later.

“But it worked!” Ray whooped. He’d been holding his breath almost the entire time.

Still running, though at sub-sonic speed, Barry checked the fuel-cell: still full. He called over to Ray, who was still busy examining the data pouring in: “Be back in a minute,” He accelerated and adjusted the controls. “I’m gonna take her for a spin!”

Ray Palmer looked up in panic: his instruments had picked up a photonic disturbance--- an unexpected, and monstrous[/i] solar flare!--- and there was no telling how that would react with the Treadmill’s tachyonic field! “NO! BARRY, STOP!”

But his friend could not hear him over the hum of the Treadmill. In a split second, it was too late. And this time, there was sound and fury! The Flash was still smiling as the Treadmill exploded out of reality as if it were a stone crashing through a window! Ray Palmer was forced to duck and cover his eyes, a wave of nausea passing over him like a child in a tsunami. For a moment, he was too stunned to even lift his head. But when he did, when the chronal reverberations subsided, he saw that he was alone. There was no sign of the Cosmic Treadmill--- or the Flash!

The Flash took off, leaving Ivy Town behind in a blink, and headed for Central City. He had a deep foreboding. Ray had warned him about the consequences of time travel before they even started: the least little thing might change the past, transform all of history… Had Barry somehow caused all this? But he hadn’t even gone into the past…!

Central City lay straight ahead, and he breathed a little easier as he navigated familiar streets and byways. But before he could make his way to the home he shared with Iris and Bart, he pulled up short: police had cordoned off a section of downtown, beyond which was a mess of torn-up road, over-turned vehicles and dozens of little fires.

He pulled up to a halt next to a familiar police captain, who looked more startled than usual at his arrival.

“Captain Broome,” Barry acknowledged him cordially. “Who do we have today? Gorilla Grodd? Big Sir?”

“Who the devil are you?” Captain Broome gaped at him, as if he were looking at a ghost.

“I’m the Flash…?”

“No, you’re not,” The cop snorted, then pointed into the distance. “She’s the Flash!”

In the evacuated area, Barry watched as a creature of molten rock reared up and roared, coming down with a massive two fisted blow where his foe had just been. That she was a speedster, there was no doubt: she was moving so fast that only Barry could track her movements. She was clad in a familiar red costume, though the design was sleeker, the lightning bolt more stylized… She circled the shambling tar-pit of a creature, lapping it a hundred times per second, drawing all the oxygen from its burning body. The creature howled in frustration, but its movements became stiffer and stiffer, until finally it solidified into a solid piece of greasy, black tar.

The crowd cheered, many of them chanting the name of the Flash. Barry could only stare in shock as the heroine sped up to the police line, the tell-tale Flash grin of a job well done on her face.

“He’s all yours, gentlemen!” She told them, “Tell the boys at Iron Heights to build an extra-special cell for this weirdo…” Her voice trailed off, and her smile faded as her gaze fell upon Barry.

Their eyes locked. Two pairs of identically-shaped eyes of soft blue widened in surprise.

“Dad…?!?”

For what felt like an eternity, Barry could only stare back at his daughter. The daughter he did not have[/i]! Then he did the only logical thing he could: he ran.

A quick trip through Gotham further puzzled him. This was not the city he had left behind, but one of law and order. Middle-aged Police Commissioner Bruce Wayne worked long hours into the night at his office[/i], while a terrifying--- and young!--- Batman patrolled the streets and rooftops at the same time. In Metropolis, Superman, too, seemed younger, and his costume was different. Updated, he thought. More… Modern.

A new generation seemed to have taken the stage.

Without realizing it, he ended up in Keystone City, on a hill overlooking the Flash Museum. It was late now, almost full dark, and in the distance he could clearly make out four bronze statues before the museum steps.

Four Flashes honored… Three others to have worn the ring before this latest incarnation. He wondered if one of them was him. He didn’t want to get any closer and confirm it.

“Barry?”

He turned at the sound of his name. A costumed figure was coming towards him, moving slowly, cautiously. Moonlight glinted off a silver helm.

“Thank Heavens, Jay!” Barry felt himself relax a little. At last, a familiar face. He moved forward to greet his friend and mentor--- then gasped as he saw who it really was. The costume was similar, including the Hermes-helm, but the colors were different: instead of red and blue, there was mostly yellow and red. Same silvered sideburns, but a different face, a face no less familiar, however…

“Uncle Barry?!?”

“Wally[/i]?!?”

Barry Allen needed to slow down. Revelations were coming at him--- the Fastest Man Alive!--- too fast. He turned away from Wally and dashed down the hill, taking a superfast tour of the Flash Museum. What he found was evidence of a similar, but subtly different world. The Flash emerged on the public scene in 1956, becoming the protector of Central City against the likes of Captain Cold, Gorilla Grodd and Professor Zoom. He was a founding member of the Justice League of America, and in the mid 60s, took on a sidekick dubbed Kid Flash--- who would become a founding member of the Teen Titans. The discrepancies were minor, as long as one discounted the much earlier timeline.

As he navigated the corridors and exhibits of the museum, he took in the details of the Flash’s storied career: his defeat of Abra-Kadabra, his team-ups with various heroes, and chronicles of his adventures spanning almost 30 years, some of which he recalled from experiences of his own, but others that seemed to lay in the future for him. But some were curiously absent. Where were the newspaper clippings about the Apokolips Invasion, for instance? And what was this about him killing the Reverse-Flash…?[/i]

Wally had been following behind at a respectful distance, but he joined Barry at the framed newspaper article outlining the murder trial of the Flash.

“This is ridiculous.” Barry told him fervently. “I would never…”

The older speedster placed a comforting hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “Forget it, Barry. It was all a trick, anyway.”

“What’s the rest of the story?” Barry was looking around, indicating the whole museum. “I see exhibits and artifacts devoted to more than fifty years of Flashes, but they’re all different people. One of them is you, I assume, as Kid Flash’s career seems to end at the same time, but there are two others afterward. And what happened to me in 1985?” His chin jutted forward defiantly, as if to say he could handle any bad news.

“There was a great crisis,” Wally answered, and there was no mistaking the pain in his eyes. “We don’t know much, actually. I… I think I should just show you.”

Once again, Barry Allen found himself in a private Ivy Town University laboratory, and the “expert” that Dr. Choi mentioned he had working on the Cosmic Treadmill was none other than Ray Palmer himself! Ray greeted his old friend with a crushing hug and an emotion-choked moment of disbelief.

“My god, you really are him,” Ray held Barry at arm’s length, and looked him over with glistening eyes. “It’s like looking back through time…Incredible!”

For Barry, it was just the reverse: this Ray Palmer was identical to the one in his universe, only aged considerably. His hair was bleach-white, and the face behind the thick glasses was creased but familiar. He must have been over seventy, his superheroing days long passed.

“You look good for an old man,” Barry told him good-naturedly. “My Ray will be glad to hear it,”

Ray Palmer nodded, something like a bittersweet smile stretching his mouth. “Looking at you, it’s easy to forget…” His words trailed off, and he backed away slowly, returning to the Cosmic Treadmill to join his prodigy and successor Dr. Choi as they prepared it for use.

“Something I said?” Barry turned to Wally.

“They were close,” Wally told him. “I mean, you and he, er… our[/i] Barry Allen and Ray Palmer were close. The Flash was important to a lot of people,” Wally looked solemn. “More like loved, I’d say. Even your Rouges remembered you fondly. I caught Captain Cold bringing flowers to your statue at the Flash Museum one year… It was hard for me to step into your shoes.”

And for a moment, there was something in Wally’s eyes that made him seem like a teenager again, something that brought a well of parental emotion surging up in Barry.

He grasped the older man on the shoulder. “I couldn’t be more proud of my Wally--- and the man he will one day grow to be.”

Wally kept his face carefully composed, but his eyes were bright as he nodded. “I never got a chance to say thank you,” he said so only Barry could hear.

“For what?”

“For making me a hero.”

Barry’s shook his head, his own eyes bright now. “You always were; I just gave you the costume.”

At that moment, Carrie approached, decelerating from superspeed and shrugging off her mask again.

“Dad, some folks wanted to see you off,”

In the adjacent room, watching through an observation window was a thick crowd of people in bright costumes, staring at him in wonder. There was Clark, in something that must have been traditional Kryptonian dress, the only indication of age being some gray at his temples and a tighter squint to his eyes. He was surrounded by his children, a perky-looking young girl and a son proudly bearing the “S” shield on his chest. There was a gray and craggy-faced Bruce Wayne, shirtsleeves rolled up and wearing a badge. A majestic-looking ageless Diana stood there as well, but a younger woman with hair the color of spun gold wore the tiara and lasso of Wonder Woman. Hal Jordan was nowhere to be seen, but a dark-haired Green Lantern stared out at Barry, balancing a child on his shoulder. The bearer of the Firestorm matrix was obviously female, and gawked as if staring at a legend. A still-lovely Dinah Lance stood with her daughter, a new Black Canary bearing the unmistakable insouciant smirk of Oliver Queen, who--- like Hal Jordan--- was forebodingly absent. There was an iron-gray Dick Grayson, an immortally beautiful Donna Troy, an ancient and regal-looking Aquaman and his family--- and a dozen others: a teary-eyed Ralph Dibny, a serene and otherworldly J’onn J’onzz, a stern-looking Katar Hol, Zatanna, Booster Gold, Red Tornado…

Barry stared back at them in equal wonder and fascination. On some very real level, these were[/i] his dearest friends and comrades. He saw it in Diana’s broad smile, in Clark’s wink, and in the almost imperceptible nod from Bruce.

“There here to see me off, huh?”

“Of course,” Wally told him. “You’re the Flash.”

The lump in Barry’s throat got a bit bigger.

“It’s time,” Dr. Choi announced, as he and Ray stepped away from the ready Cosmic Treadmill.

Barry, Wally and Carrie approached the device, stepping onto the track without hesitation. It was wide enough for two abreast, and the others took up position behind Barry.

“If our calculations are correct,” Ryan shared a quick glance with his predecessor, who nodded, “the three of you need to reach the speed of light, squared, before the tachyon generator can be activated--- and before it does, Wally and Carrie need to get off the treadmill, otherwise they will be carried away to your Earth, Mr. Allen.”

They all nodded tightly.

Ryan went on. “Once they’re off, you’ll need to maintain the speed long enough for the tachyonic field to reach full-power.”

“How long should that take?” Frowned Carrie.

“About 1/8 of a nanosecond,”

Wally frowned now as well. “At the speeds will be going, time stretches and dilates. In the speedforce, 1/8 of a nanosecond will seem like a minute or more…”

“No problem,” Barry told them. “You’ll have already given me the boost I need; I can take it from there--- you two just get off when I tell you.”

“Dad, maybe we should---.”

“That’s an order, young lady.”

Carrie Iris Allen snapped her mouth shut abruptly and unexpectedly--- to her, even--- much to Wally’s amusement. She found herself unable to contain a rueful smile.

“Alright, then,” Barry looked to Ryan and Ray. “Anything else?”

“Just Godspeed, my friend.” Ray’s voice was thick. “It was good seeing you again.”

Barry nodded, and glanced one last time out the observatory window at the assembled heroes; as one they saluted him. He acknowledge it with a sharp nod, and a promise to himself to always be worthy of that honor.

“Let’s get this show on the road, then,” Barry cleared his mind and turned to the task at hand. “Iris is gonna kill me if I’m late for dinner again.”

Barry Allen felt a surge of adrenalin unlike any he had ever known. The part of him that was connected to the speedforce was superalive, charged with a bliss that can only come when a human exceeds the limit of their existence. He glanced behind him and saw that Wally and Carrie wore similar expressions of exultation; he grinned back at them. They were in a vortex of time/space, buffeted on all sides by chronal winds and non-Euclidean images.

He felt lucky. He was almost home, but he was thankful for the glimpse he had been given of what felt like the future: Wally was a worthy successor, and Carrie a daughter he could be proud of. He thought now for the first time on his counterpart in this universe, a man more than two decades dead. Barry Allen had died saving them all, they had told him. He died a hero. And that wasn’t such a bad way to go.

He thought of Bart and ran faster.

The instruments on the control panel indicated that they had hit Target Speed. Barry turned to the others and called out: “It’s time!”

“Just a bit more---.”

“No! It’s alright, Wally! You did it! You both did: You got me home! [/i]”

“Dad---.”

“I love you both!” Barry Allen smiled for them, “Now get out of here!”

With a last, lingering glance, as if trying to hold the image of him in their mind for later days, they veered abruptly away; Barry knew they would reappear safely on their Earth--- though they might have to take a few laps around the world before they could lose enough momentum to stop!--- and he hoped he would see them again one day.

He jabbed the activation code for the tachyon generator.

One-eighth of a nanosecond. Such a little amount of time, even in the warp field of time/space in which he existed now. He just needed to maintain the speed of light squared for 1/8th of a nanosecond, and he would be home…

On his own now, he rode the wave of momentum and compound-speed that was Wally and Carrie’s last gift to him. But, to his horror, it didn’t seem to be enough! A glimpse at his instruments showed a deceleration, back towards the Target Speed: if he fell below before the generator reached full power, he wouldn’t be able to cross the dimensional barrier, he wouldn’t be able to get home…

Then his blood chilled, and this had nothing to do with him slowing down. With a dread certainty, he knew that there was something behind him[/i]. He felt the presence at his back like an old enemy, a constant reminder. He didn’t have to look to know what was behind him, pursuing him like a tireless force of the cosmos. It was fate, death, and inevitability all rolled into one.

It was the Black Flash.

The entity was on the Treadmill behind Barry, keeping pace with him, his dark garments sucking all light and hope out of the universe. Its gaunt, parched face was stretched in a rictus of a smile, and a thin, wasted hand reached out for Barry, skeletal fingers millimeters from raking his back…

“You’re not supposed to be here…![/i]” came the sepulchral voice, echoing in Barry’s mind. “You’re dead, I took you long ago…[/i]”

Panic gripped the speedster. He gaped over his shoulder at the horrific apparition, noticing at the same time that his speed was dangerously close to the point of no return. It was slipping away, and he had been so close.... The Black Flash had come for him.

“No!” Barry raged at him. “I don’t belong here! It’s not my time…![/i]”

The laughter of the Black Flash filled his ears, filled all the universe. Barry Allen put his head down, ignored the death at his heels, and ran faster than he ever had before.

One-eighth of a nanosecond. He was nearly there, he just needed to stabilize his speed, keep it above the red line… He accelerated, wondering if this was what it felt like to Jay when he had been absorbed into the speedforce.

Then something wondrous happened: his steady deceleration stopped right on the brink--- in fact, he picked up[/i] speed. He glanced behind him in amazement: the Black Flash was no longer reaching for him, but was watching him--- and running effortlessly at speeds not even Barry could match!

The Black Flash was helping[/i] him!

“Your race isn’t over yet, speedster[/i],” said the creature, his frustration clear. “But you are on the narrow path, and we will meet again at the finish line! [/i]”

The prophecy lingered in the air just as the tachyon field blazed to life. Light flared and a noise like the swelling ocean echoed in Barry’s head…

And the next thing he knew, he was tumbling off the Cosmic Treadmill and crashing across a hard cement floor.

“Barry!” came a familiar voice. “Thank god you’re back! Are you alright?”

Strong hands were helping him to sit up. After-images flashed before Barry’s eyes, and he had to rub them to clear his vision. He was sprawled out on the floor of the lab, a concerned-looking Ray Palmer kneeling at his side. A Ray Palmer with rich brown hair and an unlined face.

Barry craned his head towards the observation window; the room beyond was empty and dark.

Relief washed over him, and he allowed Ray to help him to his feet.

“Dr. Palmer,” he said. “If you don’t take better care of your eyes, you’re going to need glasses eventually…”

And at Ray’s quizzical expression, Barry laughed.