The Masked Family

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Abracadabra, dumbass! Take that!

  Sure, Spellerina could have handled this...if Spellerina existed, that is. If only she were a real, live super-hero instead of a make-believe one Celeste had pretended to be as a little girl.

  If only Celeste still had that stick she used to pretend was a magic wand, only it really was a magic wand this time, and she could zap the guy sitting across the table before he hurt her any more than he already had.

  Where's the damn magic when you really need it?

  "It's nothing you did." Eric, the freshly minted ex-boyfriend, gazed into Celeste's eyes with a look of intense sincerity. "I want you to know this is all on me."

  All on him. I like that.

  If he wanted it all on him, Celeste could oblige. She'd start by hitting him with her empty wine glass...the one he'd let her drain, refill, and drain again before letting her have it with the dumping speech. When the shards of glass were all on him, she'd follow up with the point of her shoe, jammed hard into his nuts. Then, she'd put the table on him, too, overturning it on top of him and jumping up and down on it as hard as she could.

  That was what she wanted to do to him, anyway. If only she were the hard-bitten bitch she wished she could be, not the least bit afraid of unanticipated consequences and heavy public scenes.

  Why can't I be the kind of person I hate?

  "You've made me very happy." Eric still exuded sincerity from every pore. "It's just the rest of my life I'm not happy with. I need a fresh start, you know?"

  Celeste broke eye contact and stared at the burning white candle stub in the center of the table. Even as her mind roiled with visions of violence, she couldn't quite believe what was happening.

  Eric had completely surprised her. Earlier that day, when Celeste had put on her favorite little red dress and put up her long, blonde hair, she'd never suspected for a second that she was primping to get dumped.

  She'd thought that things were going so well. The last two years had been great, with no bombshells or danger signs along the way. Finally, she'd thought, after her long record of bad choices, she'd found someone who was as perfectly matched to her as it was possible for another human being to be.

  That was the first sign of danger right there.

  "I'm moving to Colorado," said Eric. "A buddy of mine from school is setting up a chiropractic clinic, and he wants me to partner with him. It's a great opportunity."

  Celeste stared blankly at the candle stub, thinking about a picture she would paint when she got home.

  The image of it was as clear to her as if she were remembering a painting she'd already finished. Ninety percent of the painting would be a field of daisies, resplendent in midsummer sunlight. The heart of the image, however, positioned slightly northwest of dead center, would be a mangled, fetal creature hunched in a patch of blackened flowers. The gnomelike figure's gnarled hands would be full of dead daisies, contaminated by his touch; his face would be a twisted version of Eric's, decayed, surreal, but recognizable.

  And she would sell this painting for a lot of money. Macabre stuff like that always sold best in her shop.

  "This is an opportunity for you, too," said Eric. "You have a secret admirer."

  Suddenly, Celeste's eyes snapped up from the candle stub. She stopped thinking about the daisies and deformed gnome.

  "It's another reason why I'm stepping aside," said Eric. "I know you well enough to know you're this guy's total soul mate. He's had a thing for you ever since you met at his New Year's Eve party."

  Celeste stared at Eric as if he'd just sprouted D-cup breasts. "Coley Bassinette?" she said, her voice dripping with disgust--not for Coley Bassinette, but for the moron ex-boyfriend who was actually trying to set her up with someone at the same time he was dumping her.

  "Is it okay that I gave him your number?" said Eric.

  *****

  So what if I can't ever go back to my favorite restaurant? It was worth it.

  As Celeste rode home in the taxi, she couldn't help smiling. Every time she remembered the moment when she'd up-dumped the table on Eric, she could barely hold back the hysterical laughter.

  Hysterical was the right word for it, too. The laughter definitely had an edge of rage and desperation. She was proud of herself for what she'd done, the bastard had deserved it...but he'd still come out the winner. Other than having to foot a dry cleaning bill to get dinner out of his clothes, he'd strolled off free and easy and unhurt.

  I hope he dies. Even as Celeste thought it, she knew it lacked conviction. Up until an hour ago, she'd been all the way in love with him. She hadn't had nearly enough time to hate him properly.

  I'll get there. One day at a time.

  She just hoped her brother, Cary, wouldn't make her feel better too soon. She really wanted to nurse her hatred a good long while, and Cary had a way of helping her get over things fast. It figured, because his childhood super-hero code name in the Nuclear Family had been "The Hurry."

  Would she be able to hold off calling him so she could nurse her grudge a little longer? No way. Celeste hadn't spoken to him in weeks, and she sure couldn't resist calling him with this news.

  In fact, riding in the taxi made her look forward to talking to him even more. Cary's latest job was driving a cab. That and dressing up like a super-hero for parties, of course.

  And being a full-blown super-hero in his own mind, don't forget. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

  Better to be a delusional wannabe super-hero than a selfish asshole who won't even ask to drive his ex-girlfriend home after he dumps her in public.

  *****

  Cary really did make Celeste forget about Eric dumping her, it turned out...only not in the way she'd expected.

  When she got home to her apartment over the shop where she sold her paintings, she called Cary's number again and again. No one picked up...not Cary, not Crystal, not even one of the kids. Nobody home.

  No big deal, thought Celeste. People go out for the evening sometimes.

  Two hours later, she was packing a bag, tying her hair in a ponytail, and getting ready to drive to Wheeling, West Virginia, which was where Cary lived.

  When she thought about it later, on the way to Wheeling, she had trouble convincing herself that what she was doing made sense. So what if Cary hadn't answered a phone call in weeks? Most of his cab-driving shifts were at night, which was when Celeste usually called him. So what if she had a terrible feeling in her gut? Maybe that feeling had something to do with her just being dumped by her favorite boyfriend of all time.

  Maybe she just needed to get out of town for a few days. Maybe she was hurt worse than she thought, and needed a face-to-face with Cary instead of just a phone call.

  It wouldn't be the first time. Of the kids in the Beacon family, she and Cary had always been closest. Even decades ago, in the golden age of their childhood as the Nuclear Family, Celeste and Cary had stood more closely together than the others. Even back before what had happened in the fire, back when the brothers and sisters had all still been on speaking terms with each other, Celeste and Cary had been tight as twins.

  He was her safety net. When all else and everyone failed, he would catch her. Just like he'd done the night of the fire, long ago...though he hadn't been able to save everyone.

  To Celeste, he would always be a hero. To her mind, he was the only member of the Nuclear Family who had never stopped acting like one.

  Maybe now it was time for someone else to be a hero for Cary. That was why, three hours after getting home from the dump-fest, Celeste tossed an overnight bag in the back of her silver Hyundai and headed west.

  If her gut feeling was a false alarm, all the better. Getting some face time with her brother, especially after such a crappy day, was worth what she'd pay for the gas to get there.

  If Cary really was in trouble, then she would be the cavalry. She wouldn't let him down.

  The Nuclear Family took care of its own.

  The survivors did, anyway.
The survivors who were still on speaking terms with each other.

  Two out of six, in other words.

  Don't worry, Cary. Spellerina's coming.

  Well, someone who used to pretend to be her, anyway.

  Though Celeste was usually a careful driver, she floored the accelerator and flew down the interstate at eighty-five miles an hour, pointed toward West Virginia.

  *****

  Chapter Four

  Johnstown, Pennsylvania, 1977

  As the Nuclear Family (except Father Law, who was on a separate mission) hunkered down in the trees behind the firehouse, they faced their most dangerous mission yet.

  The four of them were ready for action, dressed in the colorful super-hero costumes that struck fear in the hearts of their enemies. Musclebot, the senior member of the team at twelve years old, wore bluejeans and a navy blue T-shirt with a foot-high foil letter "M" on the chest (stitched on by Maxi-Mom, the team's seamstress). Musclebot also wore a bright red cape, tucked into the neck of his shirt and hanging down to the backs of his knees.

  Eleven-year-old Moon Girl wore a black leotard with another giant letter "M" on the chest, this one stitched on in sparkling, multi-colored sequins. Her cape was bright yellow and stitched to the leotard's neckline; her shorts and sneakers were yellow, too. Her domino mask was as black as her short, bobbed hair.

  Ten-year-old Spellerina's leotard was pink, with the letter "S" glued on the chest in glitter; her ballerina tutu skirt was pink, too. Over her eyes and nose, she wore a glittery Mardi Gras-style mask flocked with little white feathers around the top and sides. Pink and white ribbons streamed through her long, blonde hair.

  Then there was The Hurry, nine years old. The "H" on his red T-shirt was painted on in lightning bolts like the ones that streaked the sides of his red shorts. He wore plastic goggles (from Father Law's tool bench) to protect his eyes when he ran faster than the speed of sound (which happened during every adventure). The natural blond streaks in his red hair were like racing stripes on either side of his head.

  Costumed as they were, the four heroes left no doubt that they meant business. Elsewhere, they might be dressed like ordinary kids, and no one would give them a second look...but when they broke out the Nuclear Family costumes, all who saw them knew that danger was near and the four heroes would save the day.

  Even today, when they faced their most dangerous mission yet.

  "There it is!" whispered Spellerina, pointing her magic wand (disguised as an ordinary stick) at what looked like a barbeque grill beside the back door of the brick firehouse. "I see it!"

  "Yes," said Musclebot, the oldest, watching the back of the place through his invisible binoculars. (His fingers were looped around the invisible lenses in front of his dark-framed eyeglasses.) "Simon Says was right."

  "Simon Says," who was as invisible as Musclebot's binoculars and communicated in code through their super walkie talkies--even when they didn't have batteries in them--assigned the Nuclear Family to missions when Father Law wasn't around.

  "Space diamonds," Moon Girl said in a hushed and angry voice. "Stolen from my people, the Star Angels. Enough space diamonds to make a hundred Starbeam Rings."

  Musclebot lowered the invisible binoculars and patted Moon Girl on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll get them back before the Puke-a-zoids can use them to take over the world."

  Moon Girl clenched her teeth and nodded.

  Musclebot smiled. "Now let's get to work," he said. "First, we need to know what kind of defenses they have. Moon Girl, use your starsight to scan the area for alarms and weapons."

  Stepping out of the tree line to the edge of the gravel parking lot, Moon Girl turned slowly from left to right, staring hard at the lot and building. Then, she raised her eyes to the firehouse roof and turned from right to left.

  "There are gravel bombs everywhere," said Moon Girl, pointing down at the parking lot and sweeping her arm from side to side. "If you step on one, it'll blow you up."

  "Good thing three of us can fly," said Musclebot.

  "And I can run faster than explosions," said The Hurry.

  "Plus, there are disintegrator rays all over the roof." Moon Girl pointed upward. "You can't see them 'cause they're invisible."

  "They'll bounce right off my super-steel body," said Musclebot. "The Puke-a-zoids think the space diamonds are safe, but they can't stop the Nuclear Family, can they?"

  "No one can stop the Nukelar Family!" said The Hurry, plunging his gloved fists in the air.

  "Moon Girl and Spellerina, hold onto me," said Musclebot. "My super-steel body will shield you as we fly in. Hurry, run in a zigzag pattern to avoid the gravel bombs and disintegrator rays."

  "I'll run so fast, you won't be able to see me," said The Hurry, "so don't worry I got blown up or somethin'."

  Moon Girl and Spellerina stood on either side of Musclebot, and each wrapped an arm around him. "On the count of three," he said.

  "One two three!" said The Hurry, and then he took off, kicking up dust as he zigzagged full-tilt over the gravel parking lot.

  "I meant my count of three," shouted Musclebot. Then, he shrugged. "Oh well."

  Musclebot extended his right fist in front of him so that the blue crystalline Starbeam Ring on his index finger was directed dead ahead. Sparks of reflected sunlight danced on the central rectangular facet on the face of the ring (which was disguised as a cheap plastic piece of toy jewelry). "Hold on, you two!"

  With that, he took flight, the girls hanging on at his sides. Though it looked like their feet never left the ground, the three of them felt the wind rush past as they glided through the air, soaring safely over the field of explosive rocks.

  "Watch out for the disintegrator rays!" said Moon Girl.

  "My magic wand can't stop them!" said Spellerina.

  In response, Musclebot followed a zigzag course like The Hurry's, weaving from side to side as the invisible ray guns filled the air with invisible blasts of energy.

  "I made it!" said The Hurry, who had reached the target before them, the way he always did. "I'll use my super-fast vibrations to open the safe!"

  "Be careful!" said Moon Girl. "It might be booby-trapped!"

  The Hurry drummed both hands fast on the lid of the alien safe, which looked like an ordinary Earth barbeque grill. The vibrations, faster than the human eye could see, deactivated the Puke-a-zoid locks in seconds.

  As Musclebot and the girls landed beside him, The Hurry raised the lid of the safe. The three taller heroes looked inside; Spellerina, the smallest, had to push to the front of the group and stand on tiptoe to share the view.

  "The space diamonds," Moon Girl said reverently.

  "Take as many as you can," said Musclebot, grabbing what looked like ordinary charcoal briquettes from inside the safe that looked like an ordinary barbeque grill. "Put them in your pockets."

  As Musclebot stuffed the space diamonds in the pockets of his jeans, Moon Girl and The Hurry grabbed handfuls and did the same. Since Spellerina couldn't reach inside the safe, Moon Girl dug some out for her...two, just enough to fill her left hand, as Spellerina's right hand held tight to her magic wand.

  Then, suddenly, Musclebot dropped a handful of diamonds back into the safe. His head spun left, and his eyes popped wide as baseballs.

  "Oh no!" he said in a hushed voice. "Puke-a-zoid killbots! We must've set off an alarm!"

  Everyone followed his gaze at once. Two Puke-a-zoid killbots--disguised as ordinary firemen in white uniform shirts and black trousers--walked around the far corner of the firehouse.

  "We must return to headquarters immediately!" said Musclebot.

  Just then, the killbots caught sight of the four young heroes.

  "What the hell?" said the first killbot, who looked like an ordinary, dark-haired man smoking a cigarette.

  "They're takin' the charcoal outta the grill!" said the second killbot, who looked younger than the first and had curly red hair and a mustache.

  "Run!" shouted
Musclebot.

  The Hurry shouted back over his shoulder at the killbots as he bolted for the tree line. "Tell your leaders! No one can defeat the Nukelar Family!"

  *****

  Minutes later, after running through the patch of woods behind the firehouse and up the street on the other side, the Nuclear Family charged across the front yard of their headquarters (which was disguised as an ordinary

  two-story white house).

  "Look!" said Moon Girl, pointing to the dark blue Dodge Dart parked in the paved driveway. "Father Law's back from his mission!"

  The four heroes pounded up the steps to the front porch. "Come on!" said Musclebot, opening the screen door and stepping inside. "We just had our toughest adventure, and we can finally relax."

  Confidently, Musclebot led the others into the house, stomping over the mat and rectangle of brick-patterned linoleum on the other side of the door. As soon as he looked into the living room, however, Musclebot stopped in his tracks. The other three heroes bunched up behind him as he silently stared.

  All four kids gazed into the room, none of them making a peep for a long moment. It was as if they knew, before a single word had been spoken, that their lives were about to change for the worse.

  It was as if they knew that they were about to meet their arch-enemy.

  "Hi, gang!" Father Law--whose name was E.Q.--smiled at them from the sofa. He still wore his short-sleeved blue button-down shirt and red-and-gold tie from work. His black-framed glasses perched on his head, stuck in his thick nest of curly brown hair. "Come on over here. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

  The Nuclear Family hung back, suspiciously watching the new kid beside E.Q. on the sofa. Right away, they could see that he was older than any of them.

  It was what they couldn't see, however, that kept them holding back. It was as if they instinctively sensed danger, though the new kid had done nothing and said nothing to suggest he was a threat. He certainly didn't look intimidating, either; he was skinny to the point of being scrawny, with a long, horsey face and wavy, blonde hair.