Temporary Superheroine

by Irene Vartanoff

  I had no more time to find out. Diabolical Dave was prone to naps, despite Roland’s and Jerry’s efforts. I wanted to act before the Purple Menace could transfer to my world again.

  I tried the door at the far end of the room. It was a bare, utilitarian space full of monitors, the kind of windowless spot from which a security guard might oversee an entire building. Here the monitors were showing the facades of buildings in my world. Somehow, the Purple Menace had set up interdimensional television, or more likely a computer version. Yesterday he needed gigantic blocks of machines to move a simple rope holding the cage I was in, yet today he had progressed to interdimensional computing. His growing genius was astounding. I could tell it was my world because the people in the street weren’t wearing hats or gloves. Who would have thought bygone fashions could identify a dimension?

  I sat down at the first monitor. The Citigroup Center, a tall edifice in midtown New York, was on the screen. It has an indoor mall on several levels, in addition to office space, so it’s usually busy and full of people. Naturally, the Purple Menace had put a bomb there. I’d seen him do it in my dream last night.

  Shifting in my seat, I identified nine New York landmarks. Each screen displayed a ticking digital clock in an inset. Of course. In this world, clocks ticked. The numbers were down to less than two hours. The Purple Menace must have been confident he could return to my dimension before the bombs went off, to reap the advantage of the chaos.

  I should immediately defuse the bombs via these computers. One little problem with that. The ability to post artwork online did not make me a computer hacker or a bomb-defusing specialist. Although, most programs on a computer could be aborted, if you searched hard enough. I tried the Escape key. No. The Control-Alt-Delete combo. No. I tried right-clicking. Of course. Elementary. Shutting down The Purple Menace’s bomb scheme via computer might not be beyond my skill level.

  Sure enough, aborting the countdown was on the little right-click menu. I aborted it. For good measure, I checked in install/uninstall, found the bomb control program, and uninstalled it. I was a computer genius.

  The Purple Menace hadn’t realized he could have detonated all of the bombs with one timer. I followed the same routine and laboriously aborted and uninstalled seven more bomb fuses on seven more monitors.

  The final monitor displayed a peaceful scene of the Sky Tower and another bomb counter. This time my right click couldn’t stop the countdown. The program was locked somehow. Install/uninstall didn’t work. Meanwhile, the clock continued its simulated ticking sound. I had less than half an hour to halt it.

  The Purple Menace must have intended to be far away from here when it blew, which made his whole charade about wanting sex even more obviously a trap for me and nothing else. Why hadn’t he shot me with his power bolts? Probably something to do with his ego. Did he feel competitive with my Eric? Who knew? Sex had undone him. Not quite a comic book ending. More like one from classic literature.

  The last bomb. The Purple Menace’s plan to take over my world included a goodbye gift to his unappreciative constituency in his home world. He was done with the humiliation of getting arrested as a petty crook. He planned to leave with a big bang. He wanted his name in the history books of this dimension as an arch villain.

  I must stop him. The monitor showed a pulsing light where the bomb was hidden above this secret penthouse. High above the highest public viewing gallery, the bomb was attached to the building’s tall antenna.

  Would zapping this computer to smoking rubble with my bolts disarm the bomb? Tempting thought, but I wasn’t sure the computer was the control for this bomb.

  Spying a land-line phone with a dial on a desk, I aped what I’d seen in old-time movies and dialed “0” for the operator.

  An operator, a real live female, came on the line.

  “Hi, I’m calling to report a bomb,” I said. “Eric Wood, the Purple Menace, planted it at the top of the Sky Tower. Could you send over the bomb squad to disarm it?” After a shocked gasp, the operator connected me to the local police station and I quickly repeated my seemingly naive statement. I even gave details, but I refused to stay on the line as instructed. “No, I’m sorry, I have to fly,” I said before hanging up.

  Technically, I’d just called in a bomb threat. The police probably thought I was the bomber. Couldn’t be helped. At least they were on the way, and would do their part by evacuating the building.

  Unfortunately, the police would not get up here fast enough to stop the bomb. I had to. How did I get to the antenna to deal with it? The Purple Menace could fly; he probably flew the bomb up there. I couldn’t fly well. I might be unable to fly that far.

  First I wanted to make sure the Purple Menace could not easily reactivate all the bombs I’d defused. Seizing a chemical fire extinguisher, I attacked each computer with spray. For good measure, I trashed the monitors with the metal canister. That should slow him down.

  I still had to find a way to the antenna. There must be an access for the maintenance crew, a route to the roof for ordinary humans. This would be my third roof in three days. Heck, what was one more?

  According to my watch, now I had only fifteen minutes to find the route to the roof, climb the antenna, and disarm the bomb. Not that I knew how.

  The room had no tools I could grab to help me, but over in a dark corner behind a jog in the wall was a door. Please make it the door to the roof.

  The door opened to reveal a narrow stairwell. I took the steps quickly and burst onto the roof itself, only to be buffeted by a strong wind. Uh-oh.

  My utility belt. Roland had given me a length of thin, strong rope with folding hooks at the ends. In my panic over Central Park yesterday I had totally forgotten about the rope.

  I hooked one end of the rope to the top of the metal stair railing, and edged my way up again. The wind tried to grab me, but I fought it to the antenna.

  Or maybe I should call it the tower-on-the-tower. The antenna stood at least fifty feet tall, maybe more. Constructed of steel, it had an open pattern that included a permanently installed ladder on one side. I started to climb, having fitted the rope around my waist and painstakingly reattached the hook end in a loop securing me to the ladder as I climbed.

  This wasn’t fun. I was no mountain climber. I’d never even tried rappelling at a sporting goods store. I struggled upward carefully, hooking and re-hooking my safety rope.

  My progress was too slow. A suspicious box was duct-taped many feet above me. If I continued with my safe method of ascent, the bomb would go off before I got there.

  Time to dispense with caution.

  “I can do this.” I started screaming into the wind. “I can reach it in time.” I unhooked myself. I forced myself up the last rungs in a rush, barely gasping for breath to scream some more. “I will not fall.”

  Suddenly, I was there, confronting a little box with a walkie-talkie taped to it. No wonder I couldn’t stop it via the computer. The fuse wasn’t under computer command. I tore open the box.

  I should have been blown up. I wasn’t. Instead, I found a batch of wires leading from the innards to the walkie-talkie. I wrenched them out of contact.

  My method should not have worked. On my world, where computers run on tiny chips and bombs are incredibly sophisticated, messing with the mechanism would have detonated the bomb. I would now be dust. In this almost computerless dimension, the Purple Menace had merely jerry-rigged a bomb with a shortwave radio receiver.

  As I breathed a sigh of relief, I began to hear and see again. Way below, the sirens of the emergency vehicles wailed. Nearer, I saw the Purple Menace, recovered from being shocked by my bolts. He flew up from the roof toward me.

  With a growl of rage, he dove up at me, not even bothering to use his own bolts. “You vicious witch.”

  My tiny bit of flying power kicked in as I dodged him. I flew up out of his path. Which put me in midair, not going anywhere.

  I couldn’t win this battle. The Purple Menace ha
d more raw power than me. My smartest move right now would be to take off, as he himself had done during many of our dream battles. Distracting him was the key.

  As usual, I started with taunts. “When a girl says no, you should listen.”

  “You think I care about sex with you, little girl? Ha.” The Purple Menace appeared insulted. He rose up higher and aimed a shattering bolt my way. I was ready for him and countered with one of my own.

  “Sure looked that way to me, buddy. You’re a real sore loser, too.” I danced out of the path of his next bolt.

  Men hate being reminded that women have turned them down. Even crazed supervillains. The Purple Menace literally howled in rage.

  “I offered you the world, you ungrateful twit.”

  “I thought it was just sex. Silly me,” I sniped as I tossed off another bolt.

  The battle continued, as we played a game of chase fifty feet above the top of the tallest building in this version of Manhattan. I couldn’t let myself think about how far down I could fall. Fear did not enhance my flying power.

  My fingertips began to smoke from all the bolts I had fired at him.

  Trouble was, his bolts were stronger than mine. Mine were losing power.

  I dodged around the antenna. His last bolt had jammed me back against the pitiful ladder, which now swayed with my weight thrown against it. I began to slide down, but I grabbed a rung and hung on, trying not to appear as weak as I felt.

  “C’mon. Try harder,” I yelled.

  “You shall die.” The Purple Menace showed no sense of humor. He blasted more bolts at me. Had those seductive few minutes on the couch been a drug-induced dream? His pleasant Eric personality traits were utterly effaced now. He was back to acting like a Grade A supervillain.

  My bolts were not enough. All I had managed to do was push him around a little, while he’d gotten me a lot bruised. He didn’t even bother flying anymore. He stood in midair, shooting bolts at me, knowing he’d win. His latest bolt scorched the costume right off my upper arm, despite barely touching me. If he hit me dead on, I was toast.

  “Give up, girl. You’ve lost.” From the glitter in the Purple Menace’s eyes, his intent was clear. If I gave up, it was all over for me. There wouldn’t even be the reprieve of some confusing or unpleasant sex. The Purple Menace was not interested in this mood.

  “Not a chance,” I said.

  “You cannot continue to resist me.”

  “Sure I can.” I fought on, still clinging to the ladder. It was the longest minute of my life. My bolts turned wispy.

  The bomb still hung from the ladder by a small length of tape next to my hand. It was disconnected from the timer, but possibly still dangerous. I grabbed it and threw it toward him. “Here. Catch.”

  The Purple Menace wasn’t expecting this. He instinctively moved his hands to catch the deadly package. In those half-seconds, I muttered the Amulet of Life chant backwards as fast as possible.

  The Purple Menace’s expression changed from surprise to horror. “What—?”

  His eyes widened. The bomb went off just as the Amulet of Life took me back to my own dimension.

  I appeared in my world two feet above the sidewalk, and fell onto the hard concrete. It was the first and only time the Amulet of Life had delivered me even slightly above the ground.

  Chapter 25

  I’d landed right outside Diabolical Dave’s studio building. I ran all the way up the stairs to the 7 1/2th floor.

  Was the Purple Menace dead or hurt? Blowing him to smithereens would have been satisfying, but Dave’s junk science ruled the other dimension. In Dave’s comic books, villains don’t die. Somehow, the Purple Menace would survive the bomb. I had no time to waste.

  I burst through the studio door, gasping for breath.

  “Chloe!” Roland greeted me with joy. He and Jerry were playing chess, seated at a small table set against the wall. Eric’s assistant editors were watching the game. My Barb stood at the only window.

  “About time, young lady,” she said. “We’ve been waiting here for an hour. I thought you said this was urgent.” For a change, she wasn’t polluting the small room with cigarette smoke.

  “Mom, please,” I gave her a harried look, and turned to the editors I’d sent on an assignment. “Did you get the scans?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “No time for questions. Put them on Dave’s computer.” An important step in the plan, but we also had to deal with the current emergency.

  “Listen. The Purple Menace planted nine bombs around the city.”

  A gasp went up.

  “Where?” Roland asked.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. The important thing is, I’ve deactivated them. I destroyed the computers controlling them, too.”

  “Why bother if you defused the bombs?” Dave asked.

  “Because the Purple Menace can create new timer controls. He’s gaining powers exponentially.”

  “Ah, of course,” he said. Dave did not seem at all surprised.

  Roland said, “I’ve got the cell phones you asked for. I disabled the GPS already. If we all call, we can do it quickly.”

  I nodded, and reeled off the names of the buildings at risk.

  Jerry did not look eager.

  “If they recognize your voice, Jerry, you can always claim somebody imitated it because you’re a celebrity,” I said.

  “That’s a relief.” He shook his head, bemused. “I’m not sure how I got entangled in this caper.”

  As always, Roland was sensitive to his idol’s feelings. “Because you’re a real hero, Jerry,” he insisted.

  “Sure he is,” Barb remarked sarcastically. She knew how much of Jerry’s ego was wrapped up in his fame.

  Jerry, Barb, Roland, and I called 911, giving only the barest details. The longer we stayed on the phones, the more likely that we could be located by law enforcement. We didn’t want police intervention.

  Eric’s editors, Mutt and Jeff, double teamed to load the scans on Dave’s computer. It was a laptop with a nasty operating system his hacker had modified. The task took them a while.

  “Okay, done,” Barb announced, clicking to end the last 911 call.

  “Where is the Purple Menace now?” Dave asked. “Did you get him?”

  “You have a one-track mind, don’t you, Diabolical Dave?” I said. “I don’t mean that as a compliment.

  “Change in plans,” I said. “In case the Purple Menace checks out these bomb sites as soon as he returns to this world, we should have spotters ready to report back here to Barb. With their information, we can mobilize to finish him off.”

  “We can’t rely on the public?” Roland asked. “We’ve got footage on YouTube and word is spreading on Twitter.”

  “We need instant information.” I ran a hand through my hair and pulled at the roots. “Why didn’t I think of spotters before?”

  “Don’t kick yourself,” Roland said. “You were busy saving the world.”

  “We need spotters who tweet,” he nodded. “I’ll take the Empire State Building.”

  Mutt and Jeff volunteered for the Chrysler Building and the Citigroup Center, both likely targets for a return to the scene of the crime. They left.

  “We need more spotters,” I said, still worried.

  “Can’t we depend on all the people who see the YouTube video and tweet?” Roland asked.

  “Ideally, we want spotters who know how urgent contacting us is,” I replied. I started pacing.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Jerry said. “I’ll call my fan club and ask for help.”

  Barb gave him a scornful look, but Jerry enlisted the aid of a dozen comic book fans in mere minutes. They promised to spread out to other New York City landmarks where the Purple Menace had planted bombs. Plus a few more, in case he had a new supply of bombs to place.

  “I hope they watch discreetly. We don’t want the police to arrest them as mad bombers,” I said.

  “They’re comic book fans,” Barb said in h
er usual caustic manner, “which means they’re nebbishes—the perfect profile of mad bombers.”

  Roland gave her a wounded look, and left.

  I ignored her and turned to Diabolical Dave. “Here’s your part. Draw each landmark on the list. Do rough page breakdowns, not complete drawings. Be ready to finish any of them, once we get a report the Purple Menace is visiting it. When we do, we’ll relay information about what he’s doing and you’ll draw him being vanquished and sent back to the other world.”

  I suggested a few more details, and he got to work. I picked up Dave’s computer, through which he had sent me the mystery drawings, now loaded with the drawings I’d done on the way back from Iceland. Plus some more I’d asked Dave to draw an hour ago.

  “I’m going back to the other dimension to follow the original plan. It might not work, but I’ll try.”

  I didn’t bother to tell them I still hoped to find Eric and make sure he got back here before I attempted to seal up the dimensional portal forever.

  Dave hardly listened. He was already bent over his drawings.

  Barb gave me a considering stare. She could tell I had left out a lot. “Be careful.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, a little shakily. Good thing I hadn’t told her about my recent adventure fifty feet above the Sky Tower roof. She might have tried to hug me or something.

  If only Dave would stay awake. But he wasn’t a young man. No point in asking the impossible. “Try to keep Dave awake, Jerry. If you can.”

  He nodded. I put Dave’s laptop into the case that Barb had picked up from my hotel room. Then I mouthed the all-too-familiar words, and was transported back to the strange other dimension again.

  Chapter 26

  I appeared outside the Fantastic Comics office building. I called Bodacious Barb from the lobby pay phone booth. It was an actual booth, too, made of dark wood with only a little bit of glass on the door side. A superhero could have changed clothes in it and preserved his modesty. A part of me wished I could stay in the dark booth and forget everything.