Fly Another Day

by Adam Graham

  Coward. Mitch opened the case and counted off ten stack of fifty one hundred dollar bills. “I trust you’re smart enough not to have tried to cheat me on the retainer.”

  “Hey! I’m a lawyer in good standing. How could you ask that?”

  “Because you are a lawyer. Tell me about this McCall. I’ve not heard enough about him, if he does more than just divorces.”

  “That is most of his practice, but he’s kept a very clean reputation, for that side of our profession. He’s respected, independently wealthy, and has been on the Ethics Committee of the Bar Association. Some think he could be Governor.”

  He’d find his dirt. No lawyer was clean. Mitch glanced at the coward. “I accept your resignation. Now I have work to tend to.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Farrow.”

  Mitch swiveled to the window. On the bright side, he’d gotten Powerhouse off course for several days, and it’d cost him nothing.

  Powerhouse flew past his window, heading toward the space needle.

  Mitch smirked. “Fly on, Powerhouse. You’ll find the Robolawyers not so easy to deal with.”

  Chapter 6

  Legacy

  Powerhouse flew above a police car with its red and blue lights flashing. The squad car was pursuing a 1990s red Ferrari.

  The Powerhouse Cell Phone rang. He used his x-ray vision to check the caller ID. Naomi. He super-imagined a Bluetooth device onto his ear inside his helmet. “Hello.”

  “Honey, is this a bad time?”

  The criminal in the passenger seat fired at the police.

  Powerhouse visualized the bullet veering off into the concrete barrier. Reality bent to match. “If you just want me to bring you a loaf of bread, then it’s a really bad time.”

  “Dave, I would never do that!”

  “Citizen, you can only talk to Powerhouse on this phone.”

  “Someone is here to see you.”

  Powerhouse scanned the gas tank of the criminal’s car. It was a quarter-full. “Tell him I’ll be home tonight.”

  “It’s a lawyer.”

  Powerhouse sighed. “What’s he suing us for? Didn’t he get the memo about our new insurance policy?”

  “He’s got something from your grandfather.”

  Grandpa? Okay, he had to bring this chase to a quick but safe end. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Don’t let him leave.”

  Powerhouse zoomed down. He super-imagined the fleeing car turning on its hazard lights, slowing down, and pulling off to the shoulder of the road. It did so as both criminals fought with the steering wheel and gestured like they were cursing. The pursuing police car pulled over behind them and the two police officers got out.

  The two criminals reached for guns and jumped out of the Ferrari.

  The police took cover behind their car.

  Uh-oh. Somebody could get hurt in a firefight. Powerhouse visualized the criminal’s guns changed to squirt guns that only looked like the real thing.

  The criminals fired at the police.

  A stream of water flowed out of the gun barrels.

  The two cops exchanged glances.

  Cursing at each other, the crooks jumped up and ran down the side of the road. One officer pursed on foot while the other officer jumped back in the police car and drove ahead.

  Powerhouse snickered. “The police should be able to catch the squirts. Now, I have business to attend to. Powerhouse away!”

  He flew the fifty miles back to the small town of Bryerton in an instant, landed in a vacant mini mall, and transformed into Mild-Mannered Dad Dave Johnson, who wore a Batman T-Shirt and jeans.

  He ran two blocks down to his house. He came in through the front door of the bungalow. On the couch sat a man in a tan suit who had thinning, slicked-back brown hair. He was maybe a couple years older than Dave. The man beamed. “Davey Johnson, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

  He’d seen this guy before? “It’s been a long time since anyone has dared to call me Davey.” Dave pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “None of my friends did.”

  “We weren’t exactly friends.” The stranger shrugged. “We had some tense occurrences. Some interpretations of said occurrences might lead to the suggestion I’m culpable for any harm you suffered or was in some way not favorably disposed toward you.”

  Dave blinked. “Definitely a lawyer.”

  “Just like my uncle.”

  Who had called him Davey and had a lawyer uncle?

  Dave frowned. “Chuck Thomas?”

  “Been a long time since we were together in Marcum High.”

  Naomi padded in as Chuck said that. “Were you on the same team?”

  “Kinda.” Dave flinched. “He was the bully and I was the victim.”

  Naomi growled at Chuck and clenched both fists on her hips. “You were one of those kids who were so cruel to Dave.”

  “Hey.” Chuck put up a hand. “Kids are cruel, and he acted like a target. Besides, I was beat within an inch of my life over it.”

  “What?” Naomi gaped as she stared at Dave. “You beat him up?”

  “No, ma’am.” Chuck laughed. “He had a psycho for a girlfriend back in eleventh grade. She punched me out in front of the whole school. I was lucky. One guy she went after is still in a wheelchair. Ruined his football career with a ‘freak accident.’”

  Why had he ever liked that crazy chick? Other than he was a beneficiary rather than a victim of her retaliation on the school bullies?

  Chuck chuckled. “Good times. Anyway, I didn’t come to discuss school. It’s about my uncle. He was your grandfather’s lawyer and executed the will.”

  “Grandpa had a will?” Dave raised his right eyebrow.

  “Yes. His life savings took care of your childhood expenses, and he left you his whole comic book collection. By the way, that looks like a doozy. Do you still have it?”

  “I have everything except for my mom’s share.” Dave sighed. “She sold that.”

  Chuck blinked. “Your mom didn’t get a share. He left you all the comic books.”

  “She took the ten most valuable ones and said that was her share.”

  “That was not accurate.” Chuck reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick manila envelope. “This is embarrassing, but it was irregular. When your grandfather died, he left instructions that this was to be given to you on New Years Day 2005. My uncle had a stroke in late 2004 and the whole thing got forgotten. I just found it this past month going through his papers after he passed away.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Chuck closed the briefcase, stood, and extended his hand.

  Dave shook the jerk’s hand. “Thanks for coming by.”

  Naomi stepped forward. “Do you have a copy of the will?”

  “Yes. I have an extra one that you can keep for your records.” Chuck reopened his briefcase and handed a two page document to Dave.

  “Thanks.” Dave passed the will to Naomi.

  Chuck pulled out a thicker document and handed it to Dave. “Here’s a listing of the comic book collection, so you can verify what’s missing.”

  Chuck headed out the front door.

  Dave handed the list of comics over to Naomi, settled onto the couch, and opened the thick manila envelope. Inside was a folder with a label on it:

  The Real Adventures of Major Speed

  By Ace Johnson

  Heart pounding, Dave clutched the precious manuscript. This was it.

  “Can I see?” Naomi asked.

  Dave said, “Sure.”

  Naomi settled beside him on the couch, opened to the first page and read it silently. “This is interesting. I never knew your grandpa was a writer.”

  “Neither did I.”

  She turned a page. “His novel’s first person narrator is the Dr. Watson of a superhero version of Sherlock Holmes. It’s a clever approach.”

  Novel? Hey. Dave grit his teeth. “Honey, it’s not fiction.”

  “Oh come on.” She ro
lled her eyes. “You’re not that gullible.”

  “Fine, I’ll prove it.” Dave stared at the TV screen and super-imagined onto it the memory flooding back.

  On the TV screen, the camera angle showed the view from Little Dave’s perspective as he stomped up the stairs, went into his room, and closed the door. On the wall hung a giant poster of Superman and a smaller poster of Spider-Man. He had a Superman bedspread and sheets with a Batman knight lamp. He lay on the bed and pounded his fist into the bed, his cheeks red.

  “Dave?” Grandpa’s voice asked off-screen.

  The camera spun to the door. Grandpa stood there, already old with gray hair and a big belly. He wore a heavy pair of glasses and a World War II veteran baseball cap. “Dave, you came upstairs pretty quick. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Grandpa knelt by the bed and raised his eyebrow. “Dave?”

  The Dave-cam focused in on Grandpa’s eyes. “I got a D in math.”

  “What about everything else?”

  “Cs except gym and history. I got Bs in those. Mom only cares about my math grade. She said D is for dumb.”

  Grandpa frowned, looked at the door, and then smiled at Dave. “Don’t take it to heart. We’ll find you a math tutor. I’m proud of you getting those two B’s.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “So what else is going on at school?”

  “Chuck’s making fun of me again. He’s saying superheroes aren’t real and that I’m a dork. Is he right about superheroes?”

  “No. Superheroes are real. They represent the goodness and truth in the world.”

  Dave’s hand passed in front of the camera. “Grandpa, that’s a cop out.”

  Grandpa chuckled. “Sure, it sounds like one, but it’s still true.” Grandpa sat on the bed. “You’d be surprised. Many amazing heroes never make it into history books.”

  “But have there been any superheroes?”

  “There was at least one.” Grandpa stared off into the distance. “Major Speed was faster than anyone else who exists. He outran a jet plane on his best day. In World War II, he was amazing. The Nazis feared him like nothing else. He was as good a man, as good a hero, as good a friend, and as great a patriot as ever lived.”

  “Did you know him?” Dave sounded like he was beaming.

  Grandpa winked. His eyes twinkled. “Would an old grease monkey like me know a superhero like that? Either way, though, I know he was real.”

  “If he was so great, how come he’s not in the history books?”

  “Much of what he did is so secret, no one can know about it even today. Plus some people didn’t like that he fought the Communists.”

  “But Communists are bad people.”

  “Some see them all as well-meaning people who happened to belong to a movement that did bad things. That sort claims guys like Major Speed did more harm than good. Regardless, there was a real superhero. He didn’t have many comics, but there was a two-issue special edition by Dell Comics when he disappeared. Lets go get it.”

  The TV screen darkened again. Dave Johnson stood and raced to the hall closet. He pulled out a cardboard box marked “Grandpa’s Collection L-Z.” He opened it.

  Naomi cleared her throat. “So is that under M or S?”

  “Um, neither. Grandpa said he was real, so he’s under R.”

  “For real?”

  “Exactly.”

  Naomi bit her tongue.

  Dave pulled out two comics in their plastic sleeve. He reached into the closet, pulled out latex gloves, and put them on before removing the comic book from its sleeve.

  The front cover featured a drawing of a soldier with light brown hair. The soldier wore camo armor and pressed forward as he fought a battalion of the Red Army. In a text bubble, he said, “Stand aside, Commies. Freedom moves so fast you’ll never stop it.”

  Naomi smiled. “So this guy was real?”

  “Comic books often had covers that weren’t exactly what happened in the story. If I remember right, this one was pretty exciting. Take a look at the title. The True Adventures of Major Speed. That proves it’s real.”

  “If a comic book company says so.” Naomi flinched. “If it makes you happy, I guess that’s what matters. You can probably absorb the whole book in two seconds.”

  “Why would I do such a thing? That would ruin the pleasure of reading it.” Dave carried the comic books and his grandfather’s book back into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

  Naomi checked her pearl watch. “Shouldn’t you be in the city?”

  “If an alien isn’t attacking, Seattle can wait an hour or two.”

  “Okay, have fun.”

  Dave opened the book and read the dedication hand written in black ink. To my beloved grandson.

  He ran his fingers over the dedication. “I love you too, Grandpa.”

  Chapter 7

  The Superhero’s Apprentice

  “Out, spot!” Naomi stood in the bathroom wearing a pink apron and a pair of rubber gloves. She held a sponge in her hand and rubbed it across the stubborn brown stain on the bathroom floor by the toilet. Not quite what I imagined when I became CEO.

  Dolly Parton began singing, “9 to 5.”

  Naomi fished her cell phone out of her jeans’ right pocket.

  “Hey, CEO,” Carmela’s voice boomed.

  “Carmela.”

  “Ah, you remember me. I was thinking we could get together tonight. You could leave the kids with Dave.”

  “How about tomorrow? Zolgron wants us to watch a TV special.”

  “What? I’m talking about going to the shooting range, getting our nails done, and going to Cheesecake Factory. You sure you’d rather stay home with E.T. and watch CNN?”

  Not in the least. “He asks so little of us. When he does make a request, I feel obligated.”

  “How’s next Tuesday? Will that work with your corporate schedule?”

  Naomi swallowed. “Truth be told, the corporate schedule is taking up far less time than I thought it would. I only spent five hours on it last week.”

  “Wow! What’s that all about?”

  “Other than the insurance company, all Dave has agreed to do is a few youth group and school appearances, and the Extreme Home Makeover show in two weeks.”

  “He’ll have fun with that.”

  “Yeah, they’re going to let him do the demolition. He and Zolgron have been debating on whether to just vaporize the house or blow it up first and then vaporize it.”

  “So what are you doing today?”

  “I’ve been cleaning the bathroom for the last hour and spent the hour before that on our bedroom. Since Dave is busy as Powerhouse again, the house has been getting let go.” Naomi’s lip quivered. “He’d have been done in half an hour, but I’ve been working on these two spots for the last hour.”

  “Honey, why are you torturing yourself like this?”

  Naomi tightened her jaw. “How would you feel if you couldn’t keep your house as clean as your husband could?”

  “That’s different. My guy can’t simply imagine everything clean.”

  “Even before he got his powers back, Dave kept the house very neat.”

  “So? He worked as a janitor for a decade. Give yourself a break. Now does Tuesday sound okay?”

  “Yeah, that sounds great.”

  “Good. Oh, keep Lena from the processing department in your prayers. She’s getting laid off along with half of her staff.”

  Naomi gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand. “Why?”

  “Why else? They’re being replaced by Robolawyers. If things go well with that, word is that all those jobs will be gone next year.”

  Why had Zolgron introduced alien technology to the open market? He should’ve kept his big gray nose out of humans’ affairs. “I’ll remember her.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you on Sunday and then we’ll get together on Tuesday.”

  Naomi hit the red button on her cell phone, pocketed
it, and returned to scrubbing the spot. Carmela was right. Someone with superpowers could get the house spotless.

  Good thing she could get superpowers.

  Naomi marched into her bedroom and reached under the bed. A metal box with a handprint shape on it rested there.

  There were nine back ups of the source of Dave’s powers. She’d only borrow one. No harm done. She pressed her hand on to the mold. It flashed red and the box opened. She pulled out one of the metal cylinders.

  Naomi stared at the plain metal cylinder the size of a thick wrist bangle. Should she really do this? She glanced at the rubber gloves on her hands and the spot on her jeans where bleach had splashed.

  Being the CEO of Powerhouse Incorporated should come with some benefits. She took off her shirt and slid the cylinder over her hand. It grew to fit around her, so she pushed it up until it came to a rest on her upper arm.

  An electric shock shot through her body.

  She convulsed until she collapsed precariously on the edge of the bed and rolled off onto the floor, the waves of agony increasing by the second. The blankets fell down after her.

  It surely shouldn’t hurt this bad. God help me, this is gonna kill me.

  Naomi screamed as the world disappeared in a flash of light.

  Major Speed lay in his hospital bed. Another disgusting talk show filled the rectangular, flat television screen. Was this what people did in the future? Cheat on their spouses and cut off their body parts? Whatever had happened to Art Linkletter interviewing cute kids?

  His torturer strode in and placed a cup of coffee on the nightstand. She ripped open his shirt and held the hot cup over his chest.

  What he wouldn’t do to have a drink of that. Instead he was going to wear it.

  She tipped the cup sure enough.

  Steaming brown liquid landed an inch from his shirt.