Powerhouse Hard Pressed

by Adam Graham

“Great, and where is it?”

  “Um, I forgot it in London?”

  Boomerang Bloke turned beet red. “Of all the moronic stunts, you lost me father’s boomerang in balmy old England.”

  “I’m sure MI5 can locate it.”

  “It took them ten years to locate Bin-Laden, and you think they can find me boomerang? I was going to join the Powerhouse Squad and fight crime with me father’s boomerang and you lost it.”

  Powerhouse put up a hand. “You can’t fight right now anyway, and I know what room I left it in. I’ll call MI5 and they’ll get it here.”

  “Where will I get another one if it’s not here when I need it?”

  “I saw some at the Dollar Store.”

  Boomerang Bloke waved one crutch in the air. “Are you off your nut? You want me to fight crime with a plastic boomerang from the dollar store?”

  Powerhouse backed up, raising his hands. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Worse come to worse, his superimagination could make a reasonable facsimile.

  Dave Johnson stood in the middle of the church gym in a gray Nike shirt and a pair of black shorts. The Awana group of third to sixth graders ran around the church gym.

  In through the double doors came a chubby bald boy.

  Wait, that was Jordan Reno. Wow. All those weeks of praying for him at Bible study had paid off.

  Carmella Carmichael stood in the doorway behind him.

  Jordan got halfway to where the other kids were and froze.

  He turned and started to leave.

  Derrick waved. “Hey Jordan!”

  “Say what?” Jordan spun, gaping.

  Derrick jogged over to Jordan, and waved again. “Come on. There are some people I want you to meet.”

  “Really?” Jordan squinted at Derrick before shrugging. “Cool.”

  Dave beamed. The littlest hero in the family deserved a gold medal.

  Mitch Farrow sat at his big, shiny desk in his CEO office on the top floor of Dorado Incorporated’s building in downtown Seattle. His stomach churned. He was running out of time to think of a palatable way to prevent the Guardian from losing their best reporter. The way she was leaving would harm public cynicism, too.

  Kelli Michaels came in. “You wanted to see me before I left?”

  “I did.” Farrow stood and folded his arms. “I think you’re making a big mistake. You’re a good writer and you do good work.”

  “Then why haven’t my performance reviews resulted in a significant pay increase in ten years?”

  So that was her game. Farrow smiled. “Well, we want to keep you. I’m prepared to give you a ten percent raise and a ten thousand dollar signing bonus for a two year contract.”

  “Is that as high you could go?”

  “Okay, twenty thousand.” Peanuts.

  “Wow. I wanted an offer like this.” Kelli smirked. “So I could tell you to drop dead! I’m going to live on my terms. I’ll be writing about the beauty in this world, the good people, and I’m going to be part of it.”

  “What are you going to do, become a superhero?” Farrow laughed. “I paid a local PI to help himself to your mail. He gave me a copy of a letter from the government. It detailed your so-called powers and their offer to help you better understand and enhance them while promising not to harm you. Did you really believe that?”

  “I don’t trust them, but I do trust Powerhouse.”

  “Please. You don’t have what it takes. What are you going to do with a dumb power like being able to pause time for ten seconds per day?”

  “Could I have a cigarette?”

  Farrow snorted. “You can’t smoke in here.”

  She sniffed and stared him in the eyes. “Somebody does.”

  “Fine, but only one.” He reached into his pocket and removed his pack of cigarettes.

  He blinked, feeling like he’d lost consciousness. Unlit cigarettes filled his mouth. What? He spit out the cigarettes and glanced out the open door.

  Kelli sashayed into the elevator, apparently having used her powers to play a joke on him.

  Farrow cursed and poured himself a glass of scotch. Can’t win them all.

  A few more of them would be nice, though.

  He finished his drink, changed into his Pharaoh costume, and took his private elevator to the Pharaoh’s underground lair. Fournier and Varlock sat in front of his desk.

  The Pharaoh sat behind his desk. “All right, per our new protocol, I’ve reviewed your plan, Varlock. It’s a no-go.”

  Waggling his tongue, Varlock said, “You reject all my plans!”

  For a reason. The Pharaoh snorted. “If you’d like, you can appeal to King Bel, but he gave me the right to tell you no, after all these fiascos.”

  “Did he even read my reports?” Varlock jabbed his tongue out twice. “Nothing that went wrong was my fault!”

  Would this idiotic, interdimensional man-boy ever grow up?

  The Pharaoh rolled his eyes. “The fact is this, gentlemen. We’ve given Powerhouse everything we have, and he’s more popular and more dangerous than ever.”

  And time was running out for his daughter. If they didn’t defeat Powerhouse soon, Rosie would die and this would have all been for nothing.

  Fournier stroked his pink bowtie. “Look on the bright side. At least things couldn’t get any worse.”

  The Pharaoh sneered. Why do I think he’s jinxing us?

  In his hospital bed, Major Speed reached for the IV filling his body with the poison. He grasped the needle stuck in his arm and pulled it out. The machine by his bed beeped wildly. Focusing, he willed his metabolism to speed up the process of burning the remaining poison from his system. He vibrated faster and faster until he was sure it’d worked.

  He wobbled to his feet. Karen had done a good job exercising his legs. He took a step and then another. Soon, he’d be ready to rescue Karen. The Pharaoh and his commie friends would regret the day they’d decided to tangle with Major Speed.

  To be Continued in Unlimited Mid-Life Crisis.

  Coming December 2013

  Acknowledgements

  To God, who has provided me inspiration and strength constantly as I’ve worked on this series and crafted the plots.

  My wife Andrea was invaluable in bringing life to our characters and clarity to the words of this story. She put a lot of her time and creative energy into making this the great book you have.

  In a telephone conversation with my brother Josh, I told him about my concept for a character I called Dr. Mystery, who bragged about all of the heroes he’d almost beaten. Josh suggested the perfect name for the character, so Dr. Mystery became the Silver Medal.

  Scott Wilcox recorded our audiobooks for ACX and has provided so much encouragement throughout the series as well as giving a proofread to the book you’re now reading.

  Cindy Koepp provided a name for this book after my wife pointed out that my working title wouldn’t work.

  To Joe Siegel, Jerry Shuster, and their 75 year-old character Superman, who created a new genre of literature to inspire us throughout the ages.

  About the Author

  Mild-Mannered Goofball and recovering journalist Adam Graham is a strange visitor to Earth whose ancestors hailed from Scotland and Ireland. With his amazing powers of wit and poignancy, he writes science fiction stories appearing in Residential Aliens, Light at the Edge of Darkness, and in the Laser & Sword e-zine, and he writes a political column that appears on pjmedia.com. With his astonishing ability to pack twenty six hours into twenty four, he is the host of the Truth and Hope Report podcast, the Old Time Dragnet Radio Show, the Great Detectives of Old Time Radio, and of course the Old Time Superman Radio Show. Our hero does all this with the help of a Journalism Associates degree from Flathead Valley Community College and his auburn-haired leading lady, Andrea.

  He and Andrea live in Boise with their cat, Joybell.

  Previous Books Featuring Powerhouse:

  Tales of the Dim Knight (Splashdown Books)

/>   Fly Another Day