“Not really. It’s tough to describe,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Dad didn’t know all the laws of physics.”
Chapter Five
Right Between the Eyes
A week later, Richard Rogers became Nobody.
They were standing on the White House lawn, getting ready to fight Baby Gun, and the Thrill said: “Hey, we need to give you a code name. Get you into the spirit of things. How about ‘Ghost Man?”
“How about ‘Nobody?”’ said Rail Blade.
“I like it,” said the Thrill.
“Whatever,” said Nobody. The relaxed mood of the two sisters seemed jarring to him. There were a million people on the Mall for the Dome celebration. Monday’s Revelation had made good on their threats. Over the screaming crowd a giant figure loomed, a hundred feet tall, with a body like a toddler. But where the head should be, the giant sported a gleaming black pistol. To Nobody this seemed more pressing than deciding on a code name. He asked Rail Blade, “You going to stop God’s personal handgun, or what?”
“You do your job, we’ll do ours,” said Rail Blade. “Ready for armor?”
“Hit me,” said the Thrill. From thin air, strips of metal slinked and slithered, thickening into plates that covered the Thrill like a second skin. The outfit was completed with a large round shield with a mirrored finish for her right hand, and a long, slender, white-hot sword for her left.
Ready for battle, the Thrill zoomed above the crowds, shouting, “Keep down! Stay calm!”
The churning crowd’s screaming changed into a relaxed, upbeat murmur.
Rail Blade raced off along her tracks, a dozen razor-sharp metal half-moons spinning in rapid orbit around her.
“It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure,” muttered Nobody. He settled the radio headset that he had been given more firmly onto his head. “How did I get into this mess?”
“For the last three decades, I have worked to make our world a better place,” Dr. Knowbokov had told him on his second evening at the mansion. They stood on the balcony, overlooking the sea. “Environmental destruction, war, hunger, disease… I view their existence in the world as a personal failure on my part, and dedicated myself to their elimination.”
“Noble of you,” said Richard. “But wouldn’t giving to the United Way be more practical than building a time machine?”
“Richard, I’m going to ask you to take a leap of faith. I have unimaginable resources at my disposal. You must trust me. I can eliminate these evils from the world. I have the knowledge. I have the plan. Work for me, and you will work to usher in a Golden Age.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Why do you need me?”
“Because there are forces in this world working in opposition to my plan. Have you ever heard of a man known as Rex Monday?”
Richard nodded. “Terrorist. He’s behind that whole ‘Monday’s Revelation’ thing.”
“He’s behind far more than that. Over the years he has become an increasingly violent and formidable obstacle to my work. While I fund the research that eliminates disease, he funds labs in rogue nations developing new viral weapons. Where I arrange for diplomatic missions to bring long warring enemies together, he is busily trafficking horrible weapons to those least interested in peace.”
“He doesn’t seem to like the Domes any either,” said Richard. “There’s been, what, seven bombings at the D.C. Dome?”
“The Domes are crucial to my plan to protect Earth’s ecosystem without abandoning the technological advances that are the hallmark of civilization. With domes over our cities, we can filter out harmful gasses before they can warm the atmosphere or harm the ozone. With domes over croplands, we can provide year round food production in even the harshest climates, and protect the surrounding environment from agricultural chemicals or genetic pollution from engineered crops. Without the domes, Earth could face ecological collapse in under a century. Rex Monday’s opposition to them is proof of the darkness in his heart.”
“Actually, I’m not a big fan of the domes either. I mean they’re big, expensive, and ugly. There must be a better way to save the Earth.”
“Richard, did you know you are under a Dome now?”
Richard looked up. The sky was bright with stars. “No way,” he said.
“They are big,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “But not ugly. They are barely even visible under most conditions. As for expense, what price can you put on the health of the Earth?”
Richard strained his eyes, searching for some evidence to the truth of the doctor’s words. “Maybe the domes aren’t the worst idea I’ve ever heard. OK, I’ll play along. You want an invisible spy, you’ve got an invisible spy. It’s not like I have a life to get back to. What do you want me to do?”
“Obviously, I want you to find Rex Monday,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “And then, I want you to kill him.”
After a week witnessing wonders, Richard thought he had seen it all. He was hanging out with a woman who could fly and another who could lift tanks with her thoughts. He was the personal guest of the closest thing to a mad scientist he’d ever met. He kept thinking he should be used to weird stuff by now. But he couldn’t help staring at Baby Gun. He had seen Baby Gun on TV once, and had assumed he was just some kind of special effect. But, there he was, toddling around, bigger than any of the buildings that surrounded him, shooting car-sized bullets from his head. Baby Gun had already shot three gaping holes in the D.C. Dome, and knocked a sizable chunk out of the Washington Monument before Rail Blade reached him. In seconds, the giant’s flesh was marked with a cross-hatching of red slashes as Rail Blade’s weapons tore into him. He turned his bizarre gun-barrel face in her direction and fired. Rail Blade raced away, but the huge bullet shattered her rails, sending her into a spin.
The Thrill sped in to help her. But before she could reach her sister, there was a blinding flash of light, as a bolt of white-hot plasma struck the Thrill in the center of her back. Following the flash back to its source, Nobody could see a woman, with flaming hair and glowing skin, soaring aloft on enormous wings of flame.
“Who’s that?” Nobody asked into his radio headset.
“Sundancer,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “Rex Monday is using his most powerful agents for this attack. But make no mistake—any damage these two do will be inconsequential compared to Rex Monday’s real plan. I’ve found more of his agents on the other side of the mall, near the Air and Space Museum. Get over there quickly. The easiest one to find will be the Panic. Anyone who sees him is instantly overcome with blind fear, but I think you’ll discover his power cannot affect you. He’s accompanied by someone we haven’t encountered before. He looks like a street person, very dirty, ragged clothes. I can’t read him, so he must be under Monday’s influence. Find them and follow them. I’ll make sure my daughters keep their distance. With any luck, they can lead you to Monday.”
“On it,” said Nobody. He started to make his way across the mall, moving slowly at first, carefully avoiding the thousands of people who were keeping low and staying calm. But after failing to bump into a few people who took unexpected turns into his path, he realized caution wasn’t needed. He began to run, straight through the crowd, often straight through individuals. He wondered if he would ever get used to it.
Overhead, Rail Blade and the Thrill were making progress. Baby Gun had been brought to his knees near the Washington Monument. Enormous iron chains now bound his limbs and bent his howitzer shaped face low to the ground. He was blasting craters in the Mall, but doing no harm to anyone but the earthworms.
Sundancer was proving more difficult. The Thrill was effectively deflecting her heat bursts with her mirrored shield, but couldn’t get close enough to her agile opponent to land a blow. Her shouted commands to hold still proved ineffective.
But Nobody could no longer pay attention to the fight. He had left the area of calm the Thrill had created, and entered into a panicked mob. Around him, people lay trampled and broken on the ground. Others fled he
adlong into trees, into benches, and into each other. Nobody pressed on, into the eye of the storm.
The Panic was just a kid, no older than thirteen or fourteen. He wore blue jeans, a black tee shirt, and new white sneakers. Nobody recognized him because he was serenely calm amidst the sea of fear, strolling along, smiling as he chatted with his companion, a gray-haired, snaggle-toothed bum with filthy trousers riding halfway down his skinny, boil-ridden butt.
“Lovely,” said Nobody, gasping for breath as he pushed to catch up to them and listen in on their conversation. He wasn’t in luck. As he reached them, they ran out of things to say.
He followed them closely as they left the Mall and wandered down the side streets. People continued to flee before them. A police car appeared, heading in their direction. The streets were closed to traffic for the inaugural celebration of the D.C. Dome’s completion, so the car was creeping forward through the fleeing crowds, with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Suddenly, the last of the crowd dispersed, and the car sped forward for about a dozen yards. Then, with a squeal of brakes, it slid to a stop near the Panic and his companion. The tires whined, leaving rubber streaks as the car shifted into reverse and raced backwards in a swaying, drunken line. The car veered sharply, smashing tail first into the side of a building. It then lurched forward, straight into a fire hydrant. The air bags deployed.
A pair of cops tumbled, clown-like, from the car. One fled instantly, streaking off after the fleeing crowd. The other had his feet snared in the spent airbag. The more he struggled, the more he tangled himself up in it. As the Panic grew closer, the cop pulled his gun. Tears streaming down his face, he closed his eyes and fired. Two bullets ricocheted from the pavement. The third bullet struck the old bum squarely between the eyes.
“Ow, goddamn it,” the bum cursed, sticking his dirt-blackened finger into the hole in his head.
The cop kept pulling his trigger long after his gun was empty. The Panic and the bum walked up to him. The cop began to squeal like a frightened pig as he gazed upon the Panic’s white sneakers.
The old bum squatted down next to the cop, his pants ripping as he did so. “Right between the eyes is just the goddamn meanest place to shoot a fella,” he said. “I’m gonna go all cross-eyed staring at it. Why would you wanna do somethin’ like that? What’d I ever do to you?”
The cop vomited and began to claw at the sidewalk in an effort to get away. In seconds, wet red trails were left where his fingers scraped the pavement.
The Panic picked up the cop’s fallen gun. “Cops are all the same,” he said. “Guns are like penises they wear on the outside of their pants, lording their manliness over everyone else. Why don’t you show him your trick?”
“Hold his eyes open,” the bum said, taking the gun.
Nobody uselessly reached out to grab the Panic as he knelt over the frightened man. The Panic dug his nails in just below the cop’s eyebrows and pulled his eyes open.
“Folks call me Pit Geek,” the bum said. “You know what a Pit Geek is, Cop? We’re carny folk, the meanest of the lot. And you know why folks pay to see us? ’Cause we can eat anything.”
To prove it, he stuck the barrel of the gun into his mouth and bit down. He gnawed the barrel like it was a particularly tough piece of beef jerky, tearing it off. He chewed twice, then swallowed.
Nobody felt ashamed. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I would pay money to see that.”
Pit Geek finished off the gun. Then he took the cop’s bloody right hand into his own hand, and shoved it, up to the wrist, into his mouth.
“Jesus God!” shouted Nobody, vainly grabbing at Pit Geek’s hands.
The cop fainted as the bloody stump of his wrist fell limp upon the pavement.
Pit Geek tapped him on the forehead. “Wakey, wakey.”
The Panic dropped the cop’s head. “Forget it,” he said. “We need to hurry. The boss says they’re getting the evacuation ready now. Children first.”
The two of them moved on. Nobody lingered behind. Now that no one was looking, he ripped long strips from the airbag and made a tourniquet around what was left of the cop’s wrist. Satisfied that the blood loss was abating, he jogged off after his two targets, who were entering a parking garage filled with school buses.
“Bomb,” said the Panic.
Pit Geek began to retch. His mouth and throat bulged as he vomited forth a large rectangular package. Richard wondered how someone as thin as Pit Geek could have held such a thing in his body. “Good thing the bullet didn’t hit this,” Pit Geek said, wiping his mouth. “I got blowed up once back in ’83 and it took damn near a year to work all the shrapnel out.” He held the still dripping bomb out to the Panic.
“I’m not touching that,” the Panic said. He pointed to the nearest bus. “Get under there.”
Pit Geek dropped to his knees and crawled under the bus.
“Always gotta do the dirty work,” he grumbled.
Nobody spoke into his radio once more. “Found out part of their plan,” he said. “They’re going to blow up school buses. Any idea on how to stop them?”
“Stopping them isn’t your priority,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “Just don’t let them out of your sight.”
“You’re going to call the cops or something, right?”
“Of course,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
By now, Pit Geek had vomited up another bomb, and was crawling toward the next bus.
“It’s those damn corners that get me,” Pit Geek complained. “Couldn’t the boss have rounded them off or something?”
“Keep working,” the Panic said, placing a hand to his left ear. “Boss says they’ve gathered the children at the Air and Space Museum auditorium. We’ve got ten minutes, tops, before they start loading the buses.”
Nobody crawled under the first bus and looked at the bomb, which Pit Geek had jammed between the transmission and the body. The package was about a foot long, eight inches wide, and maybe four inches deep. It was wrapped in what looked like tin foil. The corners did look unnecessarily sharp. There were no dials, wires, or counters.
He radioed Dr. Knowbokov once more and described the bomb.
“These are fairly common works for Rex Monday,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “They’ll be motion sensitive, so they won’t need a timer, just a good jolt, like a pothole or a speed bump.”
The garage had speed bumps everywhere Nobody looked.
“But the cops can disarm these things, right?”
“Of course,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
By now, Pit Geek was flat on his back beneath the tenth bus in the row, groaning. “Goddamn,” he said. “I need a better line of work.”
“Let’s get going,” said the Panic.
Pit Geek rolled from under the bus and rose shakily.
“Hold on,” said the Panic.
“What now,” said Pit Geek, belching.
“It’s OK. Kids are on the way. The first group’s just a block from here.”
“Why are the kids on their way?” asked Nobody into the radio. “You’ve contacted the police, right?”
“I’ve taken care of everything,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “The police are very busy right now, but they’ve dispatched people to help. Concentrate on following your subjects. Keep them within arm’s length if possible.”
“Boss,” said the Panic. “I swear, nobody’s in the garage with us. It’s like a ghost town in here.”
Nobody moved close enough that he could now see the tiny earpiece and microphone the Panic was using. “Sure. It’s stupid, but sure,” said the Panic.
The Panic looked around, bending to check beneath the buses.
“Hey,” he called out. “If you’re following us, boss says I should tell you Dr. Knowbokov never called the cops. He was worried we would monitor police bands and get tipped off someone was following us.”
“This true?” asked Nobody into the microphone.
“Don’t be absurd, Richard,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
“They know I’m h
ere. Call the cops.”
“They’ve already been called. Right now we’re trying to reach the teachers accompanying the children on their cell phones. Follow your targets,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
The Panic shrugged. “Boss says we’re done. Let’s see if we can help Sundancer.”
The old man and the kid began to wander back toward the garage entrance. Nobody followed. Then he heard voices around the corner, still a good distance away. Children.
“Goddamn you,” he said, running to the nearest bus. He slipped underneath, and dislodged the bomb with a grunt. He crawled back out and shouted after Pit Geek and the Panic, “Hey! You dropped something!”
They didn’t turn around.
Nobody banged his fist against the cowling of the bus engine, creating a satisfying thump.
He spiked the bomb like a football in the end zone as Pit Geek and the Panic turned their eyes toward him.
And then there was fire. It engulfed him, filled him, flowed from him and through him, but it did not touch him. He leapt from the nearest ledge of the parking deck, suddenly feeling the heat as he fell to the ground. Pit Geek seemed tough, but even he couldn’t survive this, Nobody surmised. Debris bounced all around him.
A red stop sign from one of the buses buried itself into the ground inches from his head.
He rose and stumbled out to the street. Half a block away, children were shouting and pointing at the smoke. “You’ve lost them,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
“Actually,” said Nobody, “I have a pretty good idea where to find them. Parts of them, at least.”
“I assure you, their bodies will never be found. They’ve exited, just as Sundancer and Baby Gun have.”
“Exited? Like, exited stage left? Escaped?”
“You had an opportunity to follow them and you squandered it.”
“I just saved, I dunno, like four hundred kids or something. Also, I kept a cop from bleeding to death. I think I did pretty good for my first time out.”
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