Roger stared at the ceiling with his unclosable eyes, picking out the tiny cracks and patterns. He’d been imagining pictures in some of them, like constellations, and wondered if he should start naming them.
Jerry called me a super hero, he thought. Maybe I can be one. Sort of. Okay, so I’d have to be a secret super hero, not a famous one, but it’s still pretty cool.
Contented, he fell asleep and dreamed about flying over the wilderness at night under the stars. Not on a heroic mission, just for the fun of it. But in his dream he flew further on, and further up, high over the real mountains to the east.
Roger remembered his dream the next morning at breakfast.
I wonder how high I can actually fly, he thought. I suppose I’d run out of air for my wings sooner or later. Or to breathe. It sounded a little scary when he was awake and thinking about it, but in his dream he’d been thousands of feet over enormous moonlit, snow-covered mountain peaks, and it had been wonderful.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A few weeks later, on a warm, humid Friday night, Roger flew home from school. He usually did now, although he still flew low along the roads instead of high over the town. He could even fly home for lunch if he wanted, but he liked eating with his friends.
Barry Wilson’s mother had finally managed to get hold of some photos somebody else had taken at Roger’s mascot show. She had sent them to Floyd Bloom at the National Investigator, but Barry hadn’t heard any news since. Roger still worried about some mysterious investigator showing up to check him out, but Mr. Horowitz, his father, and the sheriff assured him that many eyes were watching out on Roger’s behalf.
The Falcons had finished the Little League season with an excellent record (if not the championship), and Roger still did stunts during their practices and watched home games from the team dugout. A lot of people told him they wished he were still doing his show, which felt kind of good.
School was going well enough. It wasn’t Roger’s favorite place to be, but then it hadn’t been when he was human, either. He still managed to get decent grades, since his parents had switched the rule from “bad grades, no sports” to “bad grades, no rescue work.” Roger didn’t think his parents would really keep him from helping someone in trouble if he came home with a “D,” but he didn’t want to push it. Anyway, soon it would be the long-awaited last day of school before summer vacation.
Now Roger perched on the back of the big couch in the family room, gripping it with all four legs and watching a TV movie. Directly on the couch in front of him, Jerry and Marlene were sitting and gobbling popcorn. Roger hooked another chunk of beef jerky out of a bowl with the tip of a claw and munched on it. Lou sat by the couch, and when Roger tossed him a piece, Lou snapped it out of the air as accurately as Roger could have done. Roger wasn’t really supposed to be feeding Lou a lot of snacks. Lou’s furious activity was still keeping him from outright obesity, but Roger’s mother had decided the dog, who had been living in Meat Heaven, should be watching his diet a bit more closely.
The movie was The Deadly Mantis, and on the screen a 200-foot praying mantis, in glorious black-and-white, was attacking the Washington Monument. It had been a favorite movie of theirs long before Roger had been a mantis.
“Now I am absolutely sure a mantis could not grow that big,” said Marlene.
“Believe me,” said Jerry, “in this case I’m hoping you’re right.”
“Same here,” said Roger. “That bug is just plain creepy-looking.”
A commercial came on, one of those endless ones on the old Creature Feature shows.
“So, Roger,” Marlene asked, “when are you going up to the university?”
“After school’s out,” said Roger. “Maybe they can figure out exactly what happened to me. It’s where Mom went to college, and she’s got friends up there who are really smart.”
“And more important,” said Jerry, “they can really keep a secret.”
“We can’t keep Roger a secret forever,” Marlene told Jerry. “We just need to do it long enough to keep him safe from people who, well, don’t know who Roger is.”
“You mean what I am, don’t you?” said Roger, laughing as he struck a fake mantis threat display, spreading his wings, flaring his forearms out, and curling his abdomen.
“Raaaaarrrrr!” he said. “Behold the Deadly Mantis!” Lou barked loudly, wagging his tail.
“Keep it down in there, please,” called Roger’s mother from the living room.
“Roger! Cut it out!” said Marlene.
“I can’t wait until Roger becomes famous,” said Jerry. “I’ve got dibs on being his agent.”
Roger posed. “So how would I look on the cover of a magazine?”
“What, Bug’s Life?” said Jerry.
“Get stuffed, Martinez,” said Roger, flipping a couch pillow into Jerry’s face.
“There’s more to it than just being famous,” said Marlene. “When more people know about Roger someday, a whole lot of scientists around the world will too. Maybe somebody we’ve never heard of will figure out why Roger became what he is.”
“The World’s Only Mantis Boy,” said Jerry. “That’ll be on my agent business card.”
Marlene punched him lightly on the arm. “Give it a rest, Martinez,” she said, smiling.
“Hey, Roger,” said Jerry, “once you’re world-famous, maybe we’ll hear about other insect people out there. You think there’s a real Spider Man somewhere?”
“That’s something to think about,” said Marlene. “Maybe there’s someone else out there keeping himself secret, like Roger.”
Roger poked another chunk of jerky with his claw and started chewing on it. “Someone else like me?” he said. “Wow. What would it be like to meet them?”
“Just remember not to bite their heads off,” said Jerry. Marlene punched him in the arm again.
“And if there’s another one,” said Roger, “who knows how many others there could be?”
“Like when you see a couple of cockroaches,” said Jerry. “Then you know there’s thousands.”
“Cockroach?” said Roger. He looked at Marlene. “Can I eat him? Please?”
“You’ll get the trots,” said Jerry. “Remember? I told you that before.”
“Another time,” Marlene told Roger. “I’ll let you know.”
“Hey,” said Jerry. “Commercial’s over.” They all enthusiastically turned back to The Deadly Mantis.
“Don’t go in the tunnel, ya dumb bug!” yelled Roger. “They’re gonna throw poison gas at you!”
“Want me to throw some popcorn at the screen for you?” said Jerry.
“A mantis wouldn’t hide in a tunnel,” said Marlene. “They’re not burrowing creatures. Maybe a giant ant would.”
“Yeah!” said Jerry “Wish they’d show Them again. I haven’t seen that in a long time! I wonder why there’s so many giant insect movies.”
“Probably some bug going around!” said Roger and Marlene together. Jerry threw popcorn at both of them. They all laughed. Lou gobbled up the popcorn.
“Argh, look! There’s the poison gas!” said Roger. “I told him not to go in there!” He dropped off the back of the couch, making theatrical choking and dying noises.
“Yayyy for the Army!” cheered Marlene and Jerry.
“Boooo!” said Roger, lying on his back on the floor, wriggling his spiky arms and legs in the air.
The phone in the living room rang, and a few minutes later, Roger’s father came into the family room.
“Roger,” he said, “that was Sheriff Johnson. A little girl named Cindy Anderson from Centerville wandered away from her family at the Rice Creek campground this afternoon, and they can’t find her. Now it’s getting too dark to search. Can you help out the sheriff and the rangers again?”
“You bet,” said Roger, getting up. “I’ve seen this movie before anyway, and it always ends badly for the hero.”
“
All right!” said Jerry, throwing his hands up in the air and spilling the popcorn. “Another official search-and-rescue mission!”
“Relax, Jerry,” said Marlene, but she looked excited, too.
“It’s so cool,” said Roger. “This isn’t like being a mascot. This is real work! I’m ‘Auxiliary Air Support’ for the sheriff and the state rangers. They even paid me money for it last time!”
“Not that much money,” said Marlene, folding her arms. “Especially considering how much cheaper you are than buying and operating a helicopter would be.”
“See, Roger?” said Jerry. “Already you need an agent.”
“It’s still more than I’d be getting from a paper route or something,” said Roger. “And this is a lot more fun.”
His mother came down the stairs. “Here’s your vest, Roger,” she said. She had made Roger a canvas vest that snapped snugly around Roger’s narrow thorax. It had velcro-covered pockets, a big backpack pouch for schoolbooks and stuff, and clips to hang things on. The best part was that Roger could get it on and off himself.
“Take your flashlight, too,” she said. “The poor little thing won’t be able to see in the dark like you can, and you might need it for signaling.” She held out Roger’s waterproof outdoor flashlight, which had a ring at the base to make it easier for Roger to grab. Roger took it and snapped it onto a vest clip. He had become very adept with his mantis arms and tarsi.
“And here’s a candy bar for her when you find her,” she said, tucking a chocolate bar into one of Roger’s vest pockets. “I think Cindy will be all right with you. I believe the Andersons were at that autograph session you had after the Centerville game, where you did the mascot show.”
“But just in case, don’t forget the cap!” said Marlene, handing Roger his baseball cap and helping him with the strap.
“Hey, he can always be Professor Wogglebug again,” said Jerry with a snigger.
“Aw, shut up, Jerry,” said Roger. He’d made the mistake of telling his friends about that, and it had gotten around. Now a lot of kids at school had taken to calling Roger “Professor Wogglebug.” It didn’t really bother Roger. Well, not too much.
Lou stood by the back door, barking and running in circles, caught up in the action. Roger’s father came up and clapped him on his back. “Good luck, son. By the way, we should have a date soon for that appointment at the university. Be patient.”
“Thanks, Dad. But you know … I think I’m doing all right.”
“You are at that,” said his father. “Your mother and I are both very proud of the way you’ve dealt with all this.”
Roger and his friends went out into the darkness of the back yard and then out to the familiar vacant lot. Roger looked around as his eyes adapted. He saw the old plywood home plate and homemade pitcher’s mound and remembered all the good times, a bit wistfully. At least he could still play with his friends for fun.
Then Roger turned away and looked up at the clear sky and the thousands of extra stars only he could see. It was a warm night, too, which was good news for little Cindy.
Roger had spent a lot of time wondering about his future. He knew better than most people that life can change drastically just from one day to the next, so it was hard to think too far forward, but right now the future wasn’t looking half bad. He was helping people, sometimes even saving lives. Not just for the rangers, either. He’d helped the local fire department and the police, too, saving that lady trapped on the roof of a burning building! Who knew what else he was capable of?
Roger thought about the scientists at the university. What if they could change him back? Not that long ago he’d have given anything to be a boy again. But he wasn’t as sure as he used to be. He’d gotten kind of a handle on the problems of being a mantis, and he had to admit it didn’t suck being sort of a super hero in the bargain.
I’ll bet Cindy Anderson would think so too, right now, he thought.
He looked over at the woods, and focused his “critter vision.” There was the fox again, moving through the thicket. The deer came out into the field again from the edge of the woods. Her fawn was getting bigger. The animals glowed against the background, life going about its business. Even at night, through the treetops, Roger knew it shouldn’t be too hard to spot a little girl from the air.
“Ready?” said Jerry. He had two flashlights with glowing red plastic cones snapped to their fronts. Jerry’s dad had been an aircraft carrier catapult officer in Vietnam and had shown Jerry the different signals for takeoff, and even Marlene thought it was cool.
Jerry held up one hand high. Afterburners. Roger unfolded his wings and they began to vibrate. The sound settled into a rising drone. Then Jerry dropped down with one leg out behind him and threw a hand with its flashlight forward. Roger took off into the night like a thunderbolt.
“Whoo!” yelled Marlene, her hair blowing in the backwash. “Roger Mantis away!”
Roger shot up into the night. Below him, Lou chased him across the vacant lot, barking the whole way, only stopping to turn back toward the house when Roger flew out across the woods.
Before long, the ground below him was covered with thicker forest and rolling hills. Far ahead of him, he could see the flashing red and blue police lights at the campground. It was time to start the search.
The warm wind blew past Roger as he flew. He couldn’t feel it exactly the same way he used to as a human, but he could feel it in other ways. His wings beat strongly and tirelessly, and his huge eyes started picking out small animals below the forest cover, looking for that one shape that would be different from all the rest.
With great power comes great responsibility, he thought, remembering what his favorite comic book super hero once said. But a whole lot of fun, too, if you just look for it.
Whirring across the nighttime sky, Roger Mantis flew to the rescue.
The End.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My wife, Judy, still my best proofreader and most steadfast supporter.
Alan Dean Foster, who always knew that humans and giant insects could learn to get along.
Zilpha Keatly Snyder, who first made me believe that a boy could fly. I wish she were still here, so I could send her this book.
Month9Books, particularly Georgia McBride, Tara Creel, and the others who worked so hard to help me polish this story.
Tom Alan Brosz
Tom Brosz actually is a rocket scientist (sort of), having done design and engineering work in the private space industry back before the private space industry was cool.
His qualifications for writing this book are that he has experience in raising children who like bugs, and raising pet mantises for those children. Normal-sized mantises, of course.
Roger Mantis Page 18
