The Comic Book War: The Comic Book War

by Jacqueline Guest

  Charlie puffed out a breath of air. “Whoa, cowboy, back it up. You mean the neck thing you always wear? It’s a real meteorite? And you think it somehow plugs you into a weird cosmic telephone exchange that feeds you information?”

  Robert winced. It did sound insane. “Actually, yes. And I get the messages through these three comic book heroes.” He took the flashlight from her and shined the beam on the colourful covers. “Captain Ice; Sedna of the Sea; and the best hero in any universe – the Maple Leaf Kid.” He then explained about finding the meteorite and how each of his comics had storylines that reflected exactly what was happening to his brothers. “...and their letters confirmed everything. Patrick, we’re real close, he even saw the very same meteorite on the night I found it.” He was caught up in the excitement now, and showed her Ice’s story with the flyer being shot down over France. “I got this today and then I found out about George. If everything holds true, we should hear about the French resistance getting him to the coast soon.”

  Charlie sat silently beside him.

  “So, what do you think? Am I in the Charlie Donnelly Crazy Club?” he asked.

  “Oh, yeah, in fact, you’re the president, pal.” She elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Anyway, I tried to tell my parents all this, but they won’t believe me. I’m here to cool off so I don’t make things worse.” He turned to her, “Why is your butt up here?”

  Charlie didn’t answer him. Instead, she took the flashlight back and flipped the switch on and off, while pointing it up at her face, creating a bizarre strobe effect.

  It was during one of those split seconds, as the light was shining on her, that Robert saw the vulnerability behind her tough-girl exterior.

  “Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything, except to mind my own business.” He elbowed her this time.

  “Let me put it this way, Wonder Weed: not all the war zones are overseas, and I hate being caught in the crossfire when the bottles start flying.”

  Robert knew there were families where drinking and fighting were normal, but he’d never dreamed she came from one of those. He felt she’d told him something in confidence. “That’s rough, Charlie.”

  “I guess we both have worlds no one else understands. Now, let’s see what’s in those paper crystal balls of yours.”

  They read the comic books until the flashlight battery died and they both knew it was very late. Neither of them cared.

  “Are you going to be okay, you know, going home tonight?” Robert asked as he held the ladder for Charlie to climb down.

  “Oh, yeah. By now, both my parents will be passed-out drunk. I can sneak in my bedroom window like I was there enjoying the show all night long.”

  “About what I told you...” Robert was having second thoughts.

  “What? I don’t remember anything insane and certifiable you told me tonight. I spent a couple of hours reading comic books with a pal. End of story.”

  He grinned at her gratefully.

  “Remember, if you were to receive a cosmic message, beamed in from outer space, I would expect to be told, Wonder Weed.”

  She waved as she walked toward her bike, which she’d stashed in some bushes near the ladder.

  Robert felt a whole lot better as he slid through the darkened streets on his way home. When considering Crazy Charlie Donnelly, a lot of words came to mind, but until tonight, “friend” had never been one of them.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SUKCES

  The weekend tested Robert to his limits. Every minute, he expected Squadron Leader Aberdeen to show up, or the phone to ring with news of George being rescued by the French Resistance. His parents worried and Robert waited. Still, there was no news by Monday.

  Charlie was loitering at the school doors when he arrived. “Well, Wonder Weed? Anything to report from your way-out connection?”

  “Nothing so far. It will come through though, you can bet on it. Maybe tonight.” He was sure the good news was on its way and wished it would hurry up. Sometimes the universe dragged its feet. He absently touched the talisman under his shirt. “You ready for another week of telegram tag?”

  “Yup. I’ve got my uniform all spruced up and ready to go.” She patted her backpack.

  “Me too.” He showed her his own shoulder carryall he’d borrowed from James’ closet. “See you later, alligator.”

  _____

  At work, they were met by four telegrams each.

  “I tried to keep the addresses together so you can deliver them on one run.” Mr. Crabtree said. He pushed the two stacks he’d arranged across the counter.

  Robert and Charlie looked at each other as they reached for them and their boss read their faces: “Don’t worry. You’ll get paid for four deliveries. I’m trying to save you some time. If we have another week like last one, you’ll be burnt out by Wednesday. Now go.”

  Smiling, Charlie and Robert left for their delivery runs. Robert’s turned out to be businesses all within a few blocks, and Charlie’s were in three neighbourhoods running in a straight line down Fourth Street.

  Robert was back before Charlie and put the tea on for their break. When she didn’t show after half an hour, he became concerned.

  “Telegram!” Mr. Crabtree called from the counter and Robert went to get it.

  “Do you know what happened to Donnelly?” his boss asked, slapping the delivery onto the counter.

  “Maybe one of the people had bad news and Charlie stayed to help. Myself, I’ve been working on showing CPR Telegraphs as a real caring company.” Robert hoped this made Charlie sound like a kind and thoughtful employee. Not as kind and thoughtful as him, of course.

  “I know what was in those telegrams and there’s no reason for her to dilly-dally. I hope I wasn’t wrong in keeping a female on.” He retreated to the back room and Robert left.

  Robert checked the address and noticed it was quite near his own house in Pleasant Heights. He delivered the message in record time and was on his way back to the office when he spotted Charlie pushing her bike along the street. “Did your old wreck finally give up the ghost?”

  “The stupid chain broke and I can’t fix it. Worse, I don’t have the money to buy a new one.”

  Robert wondered what she did with her pay. Maybe she blew it on sodas and burgers or movies.

  “If Crabtree finds out I’m not reliable, he’ll can me for sure. I need this job.”

  She sounded so upset, Robert felt sorry for her. He thought back a couple of weeks – how he would have laughed at her predicament then. What a difference a little time could make!

  “I think I can help. Come on.” He led her down a couple of streets and up an alley. They stopped in front of a familiar garage door.

  “This is Glowinski’s Repair Shop. Best fix-it shop in Calgary. Mr. G will have Big Betsy back to work in no time.” Robert knocked on the side door of the garage and was rewarded when his neighbour answered.

  “Robcio, what you doing here? Thought you work till seven?” It was then he noticed Charlie standing in the alley. “Surprise visitor?”

  “Mr. G, this is Charlie...Charlene Donnelly, another telegram delivery...person. Her bike chain is broken and we’re wondering if you could fix it.”

  “I make inspection.” He nodded at Charlie. “Bring here, please, miss.”

  Charlie took the bike and the broken chain over to the repairman.

  “Does it have to be replaced?” Her face was pained. “Is it going to be expensive?”

  Mr. G took the bike and the chain and disappeared into the garage.

  “Rob, you need to get back right away. It’s not your problem and Crabtree will want someone’s head on a platter.”

  “I live close to here. I’ll tell him I wanted to check on my mum because she’s so upset about George being shot down. He’ll understand.”

  Charlie surveyed the tidy back fences and tall trees. “Wow, nice neighbourhood. How far from here do you live?”

  Robert jerked his head a
t the house across the alley from the repair shop. “Not far. In fact, I think I will see if there’s any news.” He handed her his bike, then hustled into the house. Seconds later, he returned, unsmiling. “Nothing yet.

  They waited until finally, Mr. G opened the wide swinging door of the garage and wheeled the bike out, chain in place and sporting new skinnier tires. He gave it to Charlie.

  “Chain fixed. Had master link. Also, old tires worn out. Going to be flat very soon. Big tires no good for delivery person. Takes much energy to push peddals around. Narrower make more sense. I rig it so wheels with better tires will work and put on.”

  Charlie admired the new tires and repaired chain. “This is the best!” Then she shook her head. “I’m sure I can’t afford it. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to put the old tires back on.” She pushed the bike back at Mr. Glowinski.

  Robert stepped forward. “Don’t worry, Charlie. I did some work for Mr. Glowinski and he owes me money. What say we call it square – the money you owe me can go toward the repair bill, Mr. G? If there’s any left over, you can give it to me later.” He hoped the big man would figure out what he was trying to do.

  “Ah, tak, tak. I remember now. Much money I owe you, Robcio. This much better way to do business – barter system, like old country.”

  “Great! Then it’s all taken care of. I’ll come and see you later and we can straighten out the details.” As Charlie looked away, he mouthed a silent, “thank you” to his neighbour.

  “I’ll pay you back on Friday, Rob.” Charlie said quickly. “And thank you again for fixing my bike so fast, Mr. Glowinski. Now, we’d better hightail it or old man Crabtree will have both our guts for garters.” In the next second, Charlie was on her bike pedalling down the alley.

  Robert started to join her, when Mr. Glowinski stopped him.

  “Robcio, I told you girl problem change when you get older. I guess you older.”

  Robert thought the corner of Mr. G.’s mouth may have curved the tiniest bit as he went back into his garage.

  The new skinnier tires made a big difference and Robert found himself working hard to keep up with Charlie. When they rolled back into work, Charlie marched up to the desk and, before Robert could spin his yarn, called Mr. Crabtree over to explain.

  “We’re late back because of me, boss. My bike broke down and when I saw Robert I asked if he could help. He knew someone so we took a few minutes and had it fixed. I thought it was better to have two rolling delivery people than leave you in the lurch.”

  Mr. Crabtree patiently listened to the story, then without a word, went to the desk and came back with two more telegrams for each of them. “These need delivering. I hope your freshly repaired bike is up to it, Miss Donnelly?”

  “Yes, sir,” Charlie mumbled as she took the letters.

  “And you, Robert. I’d never have had you pegged for the white knight type.” He slapped down Robert’s telegrams. “Now go, the pair of you, before I put my ad back in the window.”

  _____

  When Robert returned home later, all the lights in his house were ablaze.

  Going directly to the living room, he saw his parents sitting together on the couch, never a good sign. “Mum, Dad, what’s happened?”

  His mother rushed over to hug him. “Robert, Squadron Leader Aberdeen was here with the most wonderful news. George is alive! When he bailed out, he landed near the coast at Calais and a local fishing boat took him back to England. He’s safe and well!”

  Robert felt like he’d been vindicated. He’d been right. His comic books had been right. The whole darn universe had been right! “It’s like I told you!” he said excitedly. “I knew it!”

  “Not exactly,” his father corrected. “Still, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I don’t care how it happened; all I care about is that our boy is safe.” He took his handkerchief out of his back pocket and swiped at his face.

  “And on top of this wonderful news,” his mother interrupted, “Letters came today from all your brothers, including George. Of course, he wrote before this whole thing happened so it will be strange to read. I put them on your bed, dear.”

  She was as close to babbling as Robert had ever heard. “This is the best day ever!” He thought of his fantastic superheroes and said a silent thank you.

  They ate supper with happy hearts and Robert related the story of Crazy Charlie’s bicycle trauma and how Mr. Glowinski had fixed everything up.

  “Which reminds me, I guess I’d better go make things right with Mr. G. I owe him some money for the repairs.”

  “Why don’t you go now? Then you can get to your letters before it’s too late, dear.” His mother’s generosity was overwhelming, and like his dad, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially the lead mare of this stable.

  Robert left the table and was at the back door when he stopped. He quickly retrieved the kitchen garbage, then took the bag to the barrel in the alley before going to his neighbour’s door and knocking.

  When Mr. Glowinski answered, Robert tried to hurriedly explain. “Charlie really needs her job; it’s super important to her, Mr. G. She was so upset when the old bike cratered – you wouldn’t believe how someone gouged her on the price of that thing – so when the chain broke and you fixed it and the tires, I didn’t want her to worry and that’s why I said you owed me money and she didn’t have to pay. I’m sorry about the white lie. I get paid on Friday and will bring you money for the work, I promise. Oh, and George is fine. He’s safely back in England.” He ran out of words and breath.

  “Good news about brother. I glad to hear.” Mr. Glowinski calmly folded the rag he was holding. “There is something we do back in Poland, I think good idea in new Canadian home.”

  Robert listened politely.

  “When friend come to you for help, you help. No money needed. It is the right thing to do, so you do it. Only thing we need to decide is if we friends. What you think, Robcio?”

  Robert thought about this and realized this was exactly what they were. “Tak, tak, we are friends,” he agreed. “Dzienkuje, Mr. G.”

  _____

  In his room, Robert stood before his brothers’ pictures and saluted. “Welcome home, Georgie boy. What kept you?” He patted the top of the picture frame.

  Picking up the newest comic book adventures from their stacks, he climbed onto his bed, arranged them beside him, and then tore open the first of his letters.

  It was from George and related news about how they were flying further into French territory every mission. He hoped the enemy never caught on to what they were doing, because there would be a lot of guns to fly over on the way back. “You were right about the guns, George,” Robert told his brother. He placed the letter on top of Ice’s story of the French Resistance.

  Next was beautiful Sedna with her pod of orcas and the supply ship. Skimming James’ letter, he read about how his brother and the band of beach patrollers had watched a badly-damaged ship being towed into the harbour by two fishing trawlers. Almost exactly like Sedna’s story.

  Robert took his time decoding Patrick’s letter. He liked to imagine every scene.

  Buongiorno Roberto,

  Grazie for the home-grown care package, loved the Juicy Fruit gum and Sen Sen candy. Hey, what’s with the Métis sash? I suspect our dear cousin Kathryn put you up to this. You know I don’t go for the family history stuff, but it was fun to think of you squirming as Katy cornered you into sending it. We’ll figure out what to do with it when I get home. Ha ha.

  Robert tapped the page with the pencil he’d used to decode the letter. There was a very good chance he’d end up with the sash. In fact, he’d put money on it.

  We’ve been madly building Bailey bridges to cross what seems like the thousands of Italian rivers we are encountering. Great invention. They can even take the weight of a tank! The Krauts have a nasty habit of blowing the existing bridges as they retreat, and the ones we find intact need a thorough going-over by the sappe
rs. I’m liking the food (Mum will have to make gnocchi for me) and have discovered a taste for Chianti.

  The rest of the letter was boring. Patrick rambled on about several Italian ladies he’d also “discovered” as the Canadians marched from town to town. This avid interest in the women, along with the Chianti comment, was new for Patrick. Robert wondered what changes he would see in all his brothers when they came home.

  Finishing the letter, Robert held The Maple Leaf Kid up and peered at the cover closely. He concentrated and squeezed his pendant tightly. There, in the lower right corner, the soldier in front of the first tank...was that Patrick? Robert leaned in, focusing. He felt like he could step into the picture, reach out and touch his brother. It was so real. Tentatively, he extended his fingertips and –

  “Robert, I expect those letters when you’re done with them!” His mother’s voice floated up to him from somewhere below.

  THE ENEMY WAS RIGHT ON HIS TAIL! OUR HERO HAD NO WHERE TO HIDE AND HIS BRIGHTLY COLOURED LITTLE FIGHTER WAS HARD TO MISS. HE HIT THE OIL SWITCH, FLOODING HIS ENGINE, WHICH COUGHED OUT A CLOUD OF GRIMY SMOKE; OUR HERO SPED AWAY AS HIS ENEMY WAS ENVELOPED IN THE BLINDING BLACKNESS.

  Satisfied all his universes were in order, Robert replaced the comics in their correct piles with the decoded versions of the letters hidden inside, then returned the originals to their envelopes for his mother to enjoy. With a little luck, she wouldn’t ask him about the secret code copies.

  n

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  GHOSTS OF GREASE PAST

  November was unusual for a lot of reasons. Temperatures were still up and snowfall was down, both of which Robert was very grateful for. Delivering telegrams on snowy, icy streets wasn’t his idea of a good time, though complaining was out of the question when he thought of Charlie. She still peddaled all the way from Bowness to school, then delivered until seven and, finally, faced the long trek back to her house on the west side of the city. All he had to do was shoot across the river to his welcoming home, fifteen minutes away.