by Adam Graham
She stomped to the basement. Dave sat at his Windows 98 computer, typing. She stroked his neck. “Honey, are the kids really doing fine at camp?”
“Sure, Powerhouse has been there the last three weeks to share an important life lesson at the afternoon chapel service, and I spent some time visiting the kids. They’re doing great.”
“Are they missing anything from home?” Or anyone.
“James was complaining he couldn’t bring his Android phone. So glad we sent him. That kid needs to learn to go outside and not be so dependent on electronics.” Dave’s phone buzzed. He picked it up. “Hold on, honey. I got to check my texts.”
Dave kept his eyes on his phone as he said to Naomi, “They require kids to do some old-fashioned things, like send a letter home. I don’t know if he’ll keep it up after camp, but in the meantime, it’ll keep the postman happy.”
What if a kidnapper wrote the letters? “I’m going to go for a run.”
“Have fun,” Dave said.
She padded up the stairs. The camp was only a few hundred miles away. With her powers, she could get there in no time. Naomi stood with her arms spread out. “Outfit change to running shorts and t-shirt.”
But she’d have to explain her presence. That’d be hard to do without sounding like a “smothering mother.” Dave wasn’t that stupid, so he’d figure out she’d stolen one of the spare cuffs that gave him his power and had been using them to beat traffic, clean the house, and spruce up her look. Well, she’d figure out her excuse when she got there.
She left the house, glanced around the deserted neighborhood, and sped up. The world went by in a blur.
Twenty minutes later, she stopped by a sign that said, “Camp Shekinah.”
Naomi opened her ears and listened for the sound of her babies’ voices.
Familiar hard breathing led her through a thicket of pine trees to a field where a couple dozen boys were practicing kicking a soccer ball into a goal.
James was at the line and sent a perfect shot into the goal.
What? They had him kicking? She scowled. James is the best goalie!
Derrick was also in a line to kick, but it would be a while.
A male voice in his mid-twenties shouted, “Good job, James. Nice.”
No way to avoid looking like a smothering mother. Unless—who would notice an extra camper? “Body, revert to form at age thirteen.”
She stayed about her adult height as her adult curves vanished along with her adult complexion. Her hair became a mess of split ends and her makeup disappeared. Naomi rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Fix split ends, the acne, and change to camp t-shirt.”
Naomi relaxed. No one would suspect a thing now. She crouched down behind a bush.
Derrick came to the line and his kick was just off.
The male said, “Nice try. You’re getting better every day, Derrick.”
He’d never be as good as James, but Derrick did well at other things, plus he looked like he was having fun without mom around. Naomi frowned.
The coach said, “All right, we had a good practice. We’ll meet up in fifteen minutes for popcorn and a great film back at the hut.”
The boys dispersed.
She’d better get going. Naomi got up to leave.
“Wait!”
Heart thudding, Naomi spun.
It was James. He was walking towards her. Derrick was following James.
Best to see what James wants. “Yes?”
James said, “H-h-hi.”
Naomi breathed heavily. Just act natural, girl. She waved. “H-hi.”
James looked down at his shoes and shuffled his feet like his father once had. “Um, uh, you know, would you like to uh, um, y-y-you know, go and eat popcorn? Maybe you could, I don’t know, maybe you could sit somewhat next to me at um-uh-the-uh movie.”
Naomi grimaced. Awkward, really, really awkward.
Derrick stared at his older brother. “What are you doing?”
James gritted his teeth, then smiled at Naomi and turned his back and shoved his little brother hard. “Go away, kid.”
Derrick glanced at her, his brows wrinkled. “Um, excuse me, but how did you get here? This is a boy’s camp?”
Naomi frowned. She’d been so busy saying no, she hadn’t even realized she was saying no to an all-boys camp as opposed to a coed camp.
James said, “She’s obviously from the girls’ camp down the road.”
“Then why is she wearing a t-shirt for our camp?”
Sweat poured from Naomi’s brow. Sometimes, her youngest child was way too smart.
James socked Derrick on the shoulder. “Duh, she snuck over to s-s-see the boys. We have boys who look a little like g-g-girls, like Jimmy H-h-hansen. Nobody will notice.”
Derrick giggled. “You noticed.”
“You little dork! I’m gonna beat you down.”
Derrick ran off across the field at his top speed with James in hot pursuit.
Now was the time to make her getaway. How had such a good plan gone as horribly as her speed dating stunt? She dashed towards the road.
A tree with blazing red eyes jumped out in front of her.
Jolting, Naomi screamed.
She clutched her chest and laughed. “You must be the security tree Dave has been talking about.”
An electronic eye protruded from the tree and scanned her. “Individual not authorized on camp facilities. Conclusion: Destroy!”
Destroy? Naomi ran from the security tree.
It flew into the air, hailing missiles down in her direction.
Naomi said, “All missiles and laser beams, don’t hit me or anyone else.”
The missiles all vanished, but the security tree fired more at her.
She dodged and glanced back. The beam hit a real tree and it disappeared into nothingness.
If this didn’t stop soon, they’d level the campground. Naomi hit her top speed and landed on the highway. “Body, return to adulthood.”
She returned to adulthood, and panted. Her muscles relaxed.
The security tree dropped in front of her. It scanned her. “Identified. Naomi Johnson. Custodial Mother. Conclusion: Greet. Welcome to camp!” It started playing a happy song and dancing playfully as it waved its limbs at her.
Naomi frowned. Of course, the tree had records of her adult body, not her clumsy adolescent form. “Tree, remove any record of my visit from your logs, put out any fires you started, and stay near the Johnson boys.”
“Acknowledged.”
She’d have to tell Zolgron to change its settings. If a real girl had sneaked over from the neighboring camp, she’d be a goner. Then again, she’d have to admit she was there. With the half dozen trees that it’d destroyed, the camp people would ask for a change on their own.
She dashed home. James was growing up, getting interested in girls. How long until he had a regular girlfriend? One year? Two years? How long until he left home and got married? She stopped by a pine tree, breathing heavily.
How long until he forgot her entirely?
She steadied herself and shook her head. Easy, Naomi. You’re getting paranoid. He won’t get married until twenty, like his dad. No, he won’t get married until he’s graduated college, gone to grad school, bought a house, and has $100,000 in the bank like a reasonable person would. Or will he be like his mother and marry while still in grad school and start a family before fulfilling his dreams?
Tears flowed. Regardless, her babies didn’t miss her and didn’t need her.
Mitch Farrow’s phone continued to buzz as he stood in the elevator. He glanced at the text message from Varlock. Come at once by order of King Bel.
Farrow groaned. You incompetent alien. This elevator does take a few minutes.
His stomach rolled as the elevator lurched to a stop and opened in the secret sub-basement.
Fournier ran over to him. “Are you okay, sir? You don’t look well.”
“To answer Varlock’s emergency signal, I had to
get out of a meeting. It was with some regulators, and there was only one way I was getting out—to use the emergency escape.”
“What’s that?”
Farrow snorted. “Poison your own water to fake having a stomach flu. They’ll let you walk right out and talk to you later.”
“You carry poison with you?”
“Being nauseated is preferable to being with some people. Though, with regulators, full-out vomiting is the only way to ditch them.”
They walked into the office. Varlock was dancing on the desk with his tongue out, singing in an alien language.
Farrow growled. “Speaking of nausea, what do you want?”
Varlock shook his tongue at him. “I’ve spent the past month analyzing your actions, and I isolated the moment you ruined everything. You sent all of the criminals out of Seattle more than six months ago.”
Farrow groaned and folded his arms. “I only sent away the employees of our organized crime division. We can’t tell every two-bit hood and gangbanger to leave town. Also, that wasn’t in error. With less crime to fight, Powerhouse would stay out of the news, particularly the national news.”
Varlock sneered. “My study indicates, in the past eight months, there have been 1,100 newspaper and magazine articles on Powerhouse, in addition to countless hours of radio and television appearances.”
“It’d be more if not for my plan.”
“Bah. You cannot defeat Powerhouse by limiting his exposure to danger. You must intensify it. If he has a ninety-eight percent chance of surviving any battle, give him 50 battles, and the odds become greater that he’ll die.”
Fournier adjusted his glasses. “Sir, that’s the gambler’s fallacy. Under your scenario, Powerhouse’s chance of survival remains ninety-eight percent in each individual battle regardless of how many battles he fights.”
“I didn’t ask you!” Varlock licked the side of his face with his tongue. “It is a sound strategy. He needs opposition.”
Fournier said, “I would agree with that.”
Farrow shrugged. “I’ll try anything.”
“Splendid! I’ve put out a notice that will draw every criminal to Seattle.”
Dave sat at the brand new oak dining room table across from Naomi. It was so quiet without the boys.
Big Gray’s secret identity entered carrying a waiter’s tray overhead. Of course, Zolgron’s idea of being himself was showing up as a seven-foot-tall, gray alien dressed in a green cape, black armor, and a green apron.
Zolgron set Dave’s plate before him, saying, “Since you’ll be flying today, I’d figured you want something light.”
Dave glanced at it. Eggs Benedict with two slices of bacon plus a stack of three pancakes and a parfait with fruit and granola. “That’s about right.”
Zolgron put a plate in front of Naomi. She just had eggs benedict and the parfait. He asked her, “Would you like anything else?”
Naomi said, “No thank you.”
Zolgron said, “Are you sure? You should avail yourself of the world’s greatest chef.”
“I’m fine.” She scowled. “Dave, it’s time you had the talk with James.”
“About what?”
“The talk.”
Dave blinked and swallowed. “The talk? He’s just a kid.”
“He’s thirteen, Dave,”
Dave squirmed in his chair. “Zolgron, could you help?”
Zolgron laughed. “I could assist the boys with taking their embarrassing questions to Google so they don’t get hooked on porn in the process.”
Naomi glared. “They need help from their dad, not an alien gelding.” She glanced at the fuming Zolgron. “Don’t you have something to do?”
“Yes, I need to prepare some meals then head overseas on a mission for the Monte Carlo police.” Zolgron stomped back into the kitchen.
Dave said, “I don’t know what the big deal is. My dad and grandpa died before I was eleven. As a kid, I only knew what they tell you in school. Before we eloped, I talked to Pete.”
Naomi said, “Pete?”
“I had a part-time job at Grandpa’s auto shop. Pete had bought it.”
Naomi smacked her lips. “And that’s what you want for our sons? The philosophy taught in the public school and advice from a greasy mechanic the day before the wedding night.”
Dave frowned. “You make that sound so bad.”
Naomi grabbed his hand and gazed into his eyes. “Honey, it’s a different world than when we grew up. Kids are finding so much stuff on the Internet and in the media. If you don’t talk to them, that’s going to define who they are and the whole way they view sexuality.”
“That’s why we have filters on the Internet. Problem solved.”
“Kids find ways around filters, particularly if they have questions no one at home is answering.”
There had to be a way out of this. “They wouldn’t want to know about this stuff.”
Naomi stared at him like he’d just said the Spider-Man comic One More Day was a good idea. She asked, “Puberty wasn’t scary or confusing?”
Hey, that was a right of passage. “Isn’t it for everyone?”
“It’d be a little bit less so, if someone talked to you and explained what’s going on, what to expect, and let you know there’s nothing shameful or icky about it, and how to deal with temptations. And the best person to do that for a young man is his father.”
When she put it that way. Dave took a bite of parfait. “You know, Pete still lives in the area. I think he’s retired.”
Naomi glared. “Dave!”
Dave raised his hands in the air. “Kidding, but I really don’t know what to say to him.”
“That’s okay. I saw a book that’ll help.”
“Thanks.” He smiled. Naomi thought of so many things that he missed.
His Powerhouse cell phone buzzed.
Dave pulled out of his pocket and glanced at the message. It was from the Seattle Chief of Police. Unusual statue in center of town. Come ASAP.
He wolfed down the rest of the meal. “I have to get to Seattle to check on what the chief wants, then I’m due at an editorial meeting in New York.”
“Okay, I’ll see you when you get back on the Fourth.”
“See you then.” Dave kissed Naomi and ran out the door.
He pulled a model of a giant airship out of his pocket. The neighbor was out watering her garden. Dave waved.
The elderly woman said, “Hello, Dave.”
Dave strode down to a brick bungalow and went into the backyard. He pulled the ship out of his pocket and blew up to full-size, flying into the air in stealth mode. He transformed into Powerhouse and activated his rocket pack to fly up into the ship door.
His phone buzzed. The text was from the chief. Meet me at statue of infamy.
Powerhouse blinked. “Statue of What?”
The airship flew into Seattle in a couple of minutes.
Near the center of town on top of a vacant building was a twenty-foot statue of Lady Liberty. She held a knife in her hand and had an evil grin that was a mixture between the Joker and Golem.
Powerhouse exited the airship and flew down on his rocket pack. The Seattle chief stood in front of the statue.
The chief pointed to a plaque.
The plague read:
Give me your scumbags,
Your cutthroats and mass murderers
Yearning to wreak havoc
The wretched criminals you can’t stand
Send your loose cannons to me
And I will lift my knife with them
And we shall slaughter this city with glee.
Powerhouse raised his fist. “How dare the fiend profane Lady Liberty around Independence Day.” He glanced at the chief. “Are there any clues?”
“Unfortunately, it was put here by Mr. R. M. Pitts of Faux City, Arizona, according to the company who rented him the top of the building. The lab’s been over it, and there’s nothing that could offer a clue.”
&nbs
p; Powerhouse squinted at the statue and changed it into an actual replica of the Statue of Liberty.
The chief blinked. “The owners could file a complaint against you.”
“They were inciting people to commit crimes which is itself illegal. If they want to sue me for removing that mockery of Lady Liberty, well, I have liability insurance for a reason. If this is the first claim I get, it’ll be worth it.”
The chief said, “But what if this is a warning of a real danger.”
Powerhouse shrugged. “Come on, Chief. How many campy supervillains have come along and done things like this? The only one that was any serious threat was Mr. Manners, and he pretended to be a hero at first.”
“I have a bad feeling in my gut.”
Powerhouse shrugged. “Hopefully it’s just indigestion. I’m not getting worried about stunts like this anymore. They’re almost always as stupid as the Final Five was.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Anyway, I have to get to New York. So, I’ll see you on Independence Day. Powerhouse away!”
Varlock smiled. “I wrote most of the Statue of Infamy dedication in free verse, but I had two lines of it rhyme.”
Farrow facepalmed. “You are such an idiot.”
“I was not the one who ordered all criminals out of Seattle.”
Farrow sighed. “I’ll send word through our underworld contacts. That’s how humans do it. Not putting up a statue like you’re a cartoon character.”
Varlock’s tongue danced side to side like a dog’s wagging tail.
Chapter 5
Powerhouse Takes Manhattan, Naomi Takes Wyoming
Joshua Speed brushed crumbs from his brown suit as he visited with Ace and Arlene Johnson. He was seated on their brown leather couch.
The mantle held baseball and golf trophies. Above it was a painting of Jesus. Their wallpaper featured cartoon images of Superman. A few comic book covers hung among the family pictures. He sipped his black coffee and scrutinized his friends.
Ace’s black hair was messy, he had a slight paunch, and wore a blue polo shirt and a pair of jeans. Arlene was six-foot-one and wore an ankle-length green dress as she sat in a chair next to her husband’s chair and across from Joshua. Ace leaned forward. “So any new adventures with the Black Cobra and your friends?”
