Lady Superior

by Alex Ziebart

  Kristen winced. In that case, she agreed with Bernice. “Okay. What if it was like a badge? Instead of a big symbol in the middle of my chest, it’s a small symbol to one side?”

  Bernice shrugged. “Could work. I still think your boob will be in the way, but it’ll probably be alright. What about colors? Don’t say black and white. Not happening.”

  “The nun thing again?”

  “Damn right.”

  “What about navy bl—” Kristen cut herself short at the trilling pulse of her Temple phone’s ringtone. Few people had that number. Anyone who did was worth answering. She looked at Bernice with apologetic eyes and pulled the phone from her pocket. “Hello?”

  “Hey.” Jane’s voice. “I need you to come downtown.”

  Kristen turned her back to Bernice. “Why? What happened?”

  “Nothing yet. Michael wants to meet you.”

  Michael. Kristen had to think for a moment to recall the name. Jane’s boss. She nodded, though Jane couldn’t see it. “Yeah, okay. But what happened to having a day off?”

  “I had every intention of giving it to you, but we might be on a timeline here. If you can get in touch with Todd, Michael wants to see him, too.”

  Kristen sighed. “I had plans today. I have things to do. I’ve been running around for a week. If there’s no emergency, can’t I have just a little time to get caught up?”

  Jane’s voice grew firm. “There’s no emergency right now. That doesn’t mean there won’t be. We’ve been behind the curve on this thing the entire time, and we might have a chance to get ahead. Kristen, this is what you’re signing up for. You have lives in your hands. If you put them down, you can’t pick them up again.”

  She closed her eyes, and thought about banging her head on something. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You can use the parking structure behind the Temple building. Tell the attendant you’re meeting Jane Miller. I’ll meet you in the ground floor lobby.”

  Kristen hung up without a goodbye and turned back to Bernice. “I have to go.”

  “Alright.” Bernice smiled, but Kristen recognized the sadness in her eyes. “I’ll try to get this Lady Superior thing moving. Stay safe, okay?”

  Kristen offered a tight-lipped smile of her own. “I will.”

  Bernice let Kristen get halfway to the door before calling out. “Hey, I brought up the house on my block for a reason. With your new job, I get the feeling we’re not going to be able to hang out as much as we used to. It’d be nice to be close-by.”

  “I’ll look into it.”

  Bernice nodded. “Cool.”

  An hour later—well into the afternoon—Kristen drove up highway 794 toward downtown Milwaukee. Without a cloud in the summer sky, the sun baked the city, making the road shimmer with heat waves. Kristen took a hand off of the wheel and adjusted an air vent. She directed the air conditioning at her face and cranked it up. Cold wind made her wig flutter. She glanced at Todd in the passenger’s seat before turning her attention back to the road. He hadn’t said a word since he’d gotten into the car. “So…you like to hunt? I’ve always wanted to, but my family wasn’t into that. A friend of mine would bring venison jerky to school when I was a little kid and wouldn’t share it. I was super jealous.”

  Todd grunted. “Yeah. I hunt.”

  “Deer?”

  “Deer. Turkeys. Whatever’s in season.”

  “Do you have a place up north or do you camp out? I don’t really know how it works. Where do people stay when they drive six hours away to shoot things?”

  “Depends on where you go.” Todd leaned against the inside of the car door, face turned away from her. She could see his reflection in the window gazing out over Lake Michigan’s gently rolling waves. “You could stop at a campsite. Or rent a cabin if you want to spend the money.”

  “I take it you camp, then?”

  In a slow, fluid motion, Todd’s gaze moved from the lake and across the car to settle on her. Kristen hid a wince; she’d brought money into it, unwittingly needling a sore spot. His voice had an edge to it now. “We have a cabin on Noquebay a ways outside Crivitz. You know where that is?”

  How does he own a house and a cabin without a job?

  “Not a clue.”

  “About four hours north of here.”

  “Nice place?”

  Todd scratched his beard. “Used to be better. You could say that about everywhere, though. Quiet places don’t stay quiet.”

  “Something happen recently?”

  “It’s a slow boil. Less people living there full time, more people renting out their property. More vacationers. More morons. There’s a casino in town, and I think people spend more time there than anywhere else.” Todd shook his head. “Dumbest goddamn thing I can think to do. Rent out a cabin on the lake and go to the casino?”

  “Vacation spots need something for everyone, I guess. Dad can go fishing while mom hits the slots.”

  Todd snorted a laugh. “I guess so. Don’t give my wife that idea.”

  “She’s not the outdoorsy type?”

  “No. She usually watches TV while I’m out. Even before the girls were born.”

  Kristen paused while she eyed traffic. She hit her blinker and merged into the exit lane. “What’d a place like that cost you?”

  Kristen braced for backlash—she knew she hit a sore point—but it never came. Todd kept on, seeming eager and willing to discuss the place.

  “Dad left it to me. It’s been in the family for a while. Survived the depression and a TB outbreak that killed half the town. There’re taxes, but it isn’t as bad as you’d think. My dad has a garage—he called it his garage, but I’d call it a barn—packed full of shit he’d picked up over the years. I think someone of it was my granddad’s, even. Mom always called it his trash heap. I thought so, too. But when he died, I left it all right where it was. I know better these days. He had an eye for garbage. It’s what got me through the last few years. If I couldn’t make our mortgage, I’d drive up to the cabin, hunt down something to eat, pick a treasure out of dad’s garage, and sell it off on the way back home. The wife hates that I have to do that, but hell, that’s why dad kept that crap around. He’d sell any of it for a buck.”

  As Kristen slowed the car, the highway transitioned seamlessly into downtown Milwaukee’s city streets, 794 becoming North Lincoln Memorial. She spoke more slowly, keeping a closer eye on her surroundings. What’d been a stress free trip down the highway dumped her into a late afternoon buzz, the city alive for the weekend with the sounds of car horns and the pounding music of nearby festival grounds. “Can you do that? I mean, hunt whenever you want? Aren’t there hunting seasons?”

  Todd rolled his eyes. “If the DNR wants to tell me I can’t shoot something on my own land, they can fight me about it.”

  “Probably not a good idea to pick a fight with the guy carrying a rifle. Though I’d guess they have their own rifles.”

  “They do.”

  Kristen glanced toward him; he’d said those words a little too knowingly. “You have experience with that?”

  “Want to regulate what happens on public land? Go ahead. Want to stop someone from doing something on their own land? Shouldn't have sold the land in the first place. If a man owns land, he should have every expectation of being able to live off of it.”

  “Sounds like there's a story there.”

  “Not one I need to tell.”

  “Roger that.” Kristen didn't press, turning her full attention to traffic. She turned onto Mason Street amidst a cacophony of horns—every soul in Milwaukee seemed to forget how intersections worked when they went downtown—and drove west to the Temple Financial building.

  As the second tallest building in Milwaukee, only the height of Temple Financial made it stand out. Built when brutalist architecture was all the rage, the building was little more than a dull, concrete rectangle in the skyline. Though it did nothing to stir the heart, Kristen supposed it could withsta
nd a nuclear blast.

  Turning down a side street, she circled behind the building and pulled into the ramp leading down to the underground parking structure. She stopped alongside the ticketing machine and rolled down the window. The sudden blast of hot summer air felt like she'd stuck her face into an oven. Leaning out, she reached for the big red button to claim a ticket. She couldn’t reach. With a low noise of irritation, she popped her door open and slid out like a snake. She claimed her ticket by snatching it from the machine and jumped back into the car.

  Todd laughed at her struggle. “Strong enough to lift a car. Too short to push a button.”

  “We can't all be Paul Bunyan, big guy.”

  They spiraled down the dimly lit structure for what felt like an eternity before finding a place to park. Kristen pocketed her keys and hopped out of the car. She waited for Todd to follow. “Still not sure about this?”

  Their voices echoed through the garage.

  “If it's a trap, I'm pretty sure I can get away.” Todd met her eyes. “And I hope you won't try to follow me.”

  “Follow you? Maybe. Catch you? Probably not.” She shrugged. “Teleport beats running fast.”

  Todd glared down at her. “Is this the place to talk about that?” he whispered.

  Kristen winced; he was right. Being around him—around another person like her—had set her at ease. The phrase loose lips sink ships came to mind. She swept her gaze over her immediate surroundings and was relieved to see no one nearby. Saturday wasn’t a big business day, and the time wasn’t right for employees to be coming or going en masse. She gestured toward the distant elevator with a lean of her head. “Let’s go.”

  Todd fell into lockstep beside her and she knew matching her speed must have been a struggle for him. She recalled boyfriends from years prior: the tall ones always found it hard to avoid leaving her behind. Legs that long simply couldn’t go that slowly without stumbling over themselves. She walked faster, trying to find a friendly middleground.

  Once in the elevator, Kristen mashed the button for the ground floor. Both settled against the elevator’s back wall. The elevator lurched upward. Her gut churned. For the first time, she considered what might be about to happen. Michael. Michael wasn’t a particularly imposing name. Though Kristen didn’t exactly suggest superpowered badass, and Todd didn’t scream teleportation.

  I wish I knew his last name. Maybe it’s Blood or Black or Killdead or Murderface.

  Kristen looked over at Todd. His blank stoicism held fast. She thought his eyes were a little tighter than usual at the corners, but if they were, it was only a little—easily imagined.

  “What do you think is going to happen in there?”

  “That depends. How much of what I told you did you tell them?”

  “Everything.”

  Todd's face hardened further. The man became like stone. “I owe you a lot. I don't know what they'll have to say, but I hope it's good. Otherwise, you'll owe me instead.”

  Not creepy at all.

  The elevator slowed to a stop. Its doors opened with a well-maintained smoothness, revealing Temple Financial's pristine white lobby in all its blinding glory. Kristen stopped to let her eyes adjust before leaving the elevator. The hall was empty but for two people: a secretary at an imposing desk and a woman in a slate grey pantsuit standing with her back to them. The secretary peered around her and smiled. “Welcome to Temple Financial. Can I help you?”

  The other woman glanced back. Kristen squinted. She seemed familiar. Then the woman turned to face them and waved the secretary away. “These are the two I've been waiting for. I'll take care of it. Can you call the elevator down for me?”

  “Sure thing, Miss Jaeger.” The secretary chirped.

  “Jane?” Kristen asked, no shortage of confusion in her voice. “Jaeger?”

  “It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Jane extended a hand. Kristen shook it on dumbfounded instinct. Jane put her other hand on her shoulder, pivoting their group smoothly down an adjacent hallway. “Right this way.”

  Jane led them into a hall that consisted of nothing but pristinely polished elevators. Summoned by the secretary, one slid open the moment they arrived. They stepped in, and when the doors closed, Jane blew out a breath. “Sorry about that. The receptionist is a short-notice replacement. Isn't exactly in the loop.”

  “I thought your name was Miller.”

  “That depends entirely upon who I'm talking to.”

  “Not exactly fair, is it?” Todd rumbled. “You know our names. We don’t know yours.”

  “Miller is as close to my real name as you can get. Any questions before this ride’s over? By the way, Todd, thanks for coming.”

  He frowned. “What’s this all about? Why am I here?”

  Kristen’s gaze snapped to Jane. She wanted to know, too. Jane kept her eyes forward, unbuttoning her jacket. “Transparency. No—for honesty’s sake, let’s not say transparency. Michael wants to change the opacity of the situation. There are people in danger. Potentially a lot of people. This city needs your help and you should understand a little more about the world we live in before you commit.”

  Todd looked down his nose at Jane over Kristen's head. “You're asking me for help?”

  Jane turned to meet his gaze. “No. We're asking Kristen. But you can come, too.”

  A digital display above the elevator door ticked over to thirteen. The doors slid open to reveal a cubicle farm lit only by the sunlight through the windows; the lights were off, as were the computer screens. Kristen took a step out, searching for any sign of life. Empty. A part of her was disappointed; she'd have liked to have seen people hard at work. The entire ordeal that had been playing out for the last week had started on that very floor. She looked toward the window she'd smashed through and found they’d already repaired it. So many people must have been wondering if Lady Superior could fly.

  Not Lady Superior, she corrected herself. That wasn't her name. Not yet, and certainly not to the general public. She was still Maiden Milwaukee. Could Maiden Milwaukee fly? No. She could rappel from a rooftop after brief instruction from Jane, timed just right to avoid being spotted by police helicopters. She'd thought those who'd taken the thirteenth floor were terrorists. That's what Jane told her, anyway. At the time, it was plausible. Kristen could recall clearly the news coverage of September 11; she was only twelve years old—maybe thirteen—and hadn't ever heard of anything like it, or the world before it. Even as she thought it, she knew it was a cliché. But it was true. Everyone said the world changed that day and she accepted it as true. She was too young to have seen the world before it. She only knew the world that followed. Lost jobs. War. Death. Fear. Whether that fear was real or fabricated, she didn’t know. It didn’t make a difference. Whichever way it came about, it was there.

  She wondered if that was why she so readily leapt to do what Jane asked. It was about lives. It was about preventing a disaster. If she had a say in it, there’d be no more fathers risking death in Iraq to afford groceries for their families.

  Yes, she decided. It would have been very nice to see people at work. That dark, lifeless room suggested she’d failed. She knew she hadn’t, but couldn’t shake the feeling.

  “This isn't our stop,” Jane called out.

  Kristen whirled to look at her, surprised to hear a voice. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. How long had she been lost in her thoughts? Couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. “This is thirteen. You said thirteen.”

  “Let's call this Thirteen A. We're going to Thirteen B.”

  Though confused, Kristen got back into the elevator. Jane punched thirteen into the console. The doors closed. A second later, they opened again. “Welcome to Thirteen B.”

  Though the elevator hadn’t moved, the scene beyond the doors changed completely. The lights were on. There were people at work. Some weaved among the cubicles, others were heads-down and hands-on. Kristen’s gaze traveled slowly across the room. Eventually, t
he windows drew her attention. The blinds were open, but she didn’t see the Milwaukee skyline. Instead, a tumultuous sea of violet threaded with serpentine ribbons of white greeted her. There was a depth to it. There was something behind the glass. Whatever it was, it went on forever—like seeing the ocean through diving goggles.

  Behind her, Todd gasped. “My god. Where are we?”

  “We don’t honestly know.” Jane stepped up beside Kristen. “One of life’s little mysteries.”

  Kristen tore her eyes from the windows to look at Jane again. “This is where the changelings wanted to be. Not Thirteen A. They wanted Thirteen B.”

  “We don’t know that for sure, but it’s a reasonable assumption. I seriously doubt the changelings have any interest in accountants.” Jane motioned for Todd and Kristen to follow. “Right this way.”

  Jane moved around the outside walls of the cubicle farm, directly alongside the windows. Kristen followed close behind, though her eyes stared into the void beyond the glass. In the glass, she saw her reflection—and the reflection of those behind her. Their eyes, too, faced the windows. She realized they weren’t looking at the void, though. As she passed, every set of eyes swiveled to follow. Every man and woman in Thirteen B knew exactly who she was.

  Jane stopped outside the door of a corner office. A plaque beside the door read MICHAEL GRUBER.

  Gruber? I guess that could be evil.

  Jane ushered them inside. Michael Gruber leaned back from his desk, an executive monstrosity of dark oak, to assess the new arrivals. Kristen assessed him, too. He was balding and heavy, and the way he leaned back put his beer gut on display. He wore glasses and a business suit minus the jacket, which dangled from a coat rack in the corner. His tie was a stripe of black dividing an immaculate white shirt. Windows behind Michael framed him in violet. As Kristen looked at him, she realized he wasn't bathed in the light. The sea of purple was bright, almost neon, and it should have cast its glow on everything. It didn't. The only light sources were from the overhead fluorescents. Lights that required electricity. How did they get electricity in a void?