The Masked Family

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  El Yucatango frowned. "Took them here to Sonoita?"

  "Someplace called Rocky Point. That's where they were headed."

  "Ah," said El Yucatango. "Puerto Peñasco."

  Cary shrugged. "If you say so."

  "I know it well." El Yucatango stared at Cary with sudden intensity. "I wonder if you could use a super-hero on this trip, señor."

  Cary liked the idea as soon as he heard it. "I sure wouldn't mind some help," he said. "Like, someone who can speak and read Spanish and knows how to get around Mexico."

  "Why not a super-hero, too?" said El Yucatango. "A protector can come in handy."

  "I'm sure I couldn't afford you," said Cary.

  "Ah-ah." El Yucatango wagged a finger at Cary, then planted it on top of the crumpled rate card on the table. "Look here, Beacon. Numero nueve."

  Cary looked down at the scribbled page. His eyes found item number nine in the list of super-hero services.

  Guide/translator/bodyguard, it read. $50/day.

  Cary smiled. "Well, that's definitely a bargain, El Yucatango, but I can't pay it. Who knows how long this could take?"

  "But you get a bonus." Again, El Yucatango tapped the rate card. "Look at numero quince. Fifteen."

  Cary looked down. Number fifteen was this:

  Rescuing children always free.

  "That's a good bonus," said Cary.

  El Yucatango shrugged. "Some things, a hero must never charge for."

  Cary nodded, then shook his head. "I have to be honest with you, Yucatango. I could use some help, but I don't know how long I can pay you."

  "Maybe we can work something out," said El Yucatango. "You're a super-hero, right?"

  Cary grinned. "As a matter of fact, I am."

  El Yucatango clapped his hands together. "Super-hero discount, twenty-five percent."

  "I still don't know," said Cary.

  "And another twenty-five percent off if you help me, too."

  "Help you with what?" said Cary.

  El Yucatango rolled his eyes and waved dismissively. "A small thing, Beacon. Some unfinished business in Rocky Point. Nothing dangerous for you, I promise."

  Cary thought it over for a moment. The fact of the matter was, he needed the help.

  "We have to rescue the kids first, though," he said.

  "Of course." El Yucatango extended his hand. "Shall we dance?"

  Cary took the hand and shook it. "We'll see how it works out."

  "Fifty dollars a day," said El Yucatango, "minus twenty-five percent super-hero discount."

  "And the twenty-five percent discount for helping with the small thing," said Cary.

  "Plus three meals a day."

  Cary stopped shaking his hand.

  "Two meals?" said El Yucatango. "They don't have to be expensive ones."

  Cary had a feeling that he was making either the smartest move or the biggest mistake of his life.

  "Yeah, okay," he said, resuming the handshake. "You won't slack off because of the discount price, will you?"

  "Only the best for a fellow hero, Beacon." El Yucatango grinned, showing off his gold front tooth. "For a brother in arms."

  *****

  Chapter Fifteen

  Erie, Pennsylvania, 2006

  At first, Celeste thought her brother, Baron, was being a sarcastic asshole like always.

  "Could you look at the next clue in Cary's secret plan?" she said. "See if it means anything to you?"

  "I'll do better than that," said Baron. "I'll go with you to look for him."

  Celeste resisted the temptation to mouth off sarcastically in reply. However shitty Baron's attitude was, she still needed his cooperation to figure out the plan.

  Paisley, on the other hand, could not quite resist the same temptation. "Hallelujah," she said through a sneer. "Our prayers have been answered."

  Baron ignored her. She sat right beside him on the black leather sofa in his living room, but he acted like she wasn't there.

  He'd treated her the same since opening the front door of his house on her and Celeste a half-hour ago. Paisley had repeatedly baited him with smartass remarks to Celeste, but he'd never reacted or even looked at her.

  In other words, it was business as usual. Baron hadn't spoken to Paisley in years.

  "I just need you to look at the secret plan." Celeste opened Cary's spiral-bound notebook, folded back the cover and first two pages, and handed the notebook to Baron.

  "I'm serious, Celeste," said Baron. "I want to go. I want to help."

  His resonant TV-anchorman voice made him sound authoritative and sincere, which was why he worked as a TV anchorman. Celeste, however, was not a sucker for the dulcet tones.

  "Look," she said. "This isn't a joking matter. I'm really worried about Cary."

  "Me, too," said Baron.

  Paisley snorted. "This from the guy who hasn't spoken to Cary in how many years now?"

  "I'm dead serious," said Baron. "Whatever's come between us in the past, he's still my brother."

  To his credit, he did look dead serious to Celeste. The light blue eyes set into his oval face burned with rare intensity. His lips never once twitched with the hint of a smirk.

  He was dressed and groomed like a newsman, which further enhanced his serious aspect. He wore a white Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tie diagonally striped with deep red and blue bands. The gold of his watchband matched the gold wire frames of the serious glasses through which he peered at Celeste. Not a single sandy brown hair on his head was out of place. He looked like he'd just walked off the set of a newscast.

  "Just give me time to pack a bag," he said, getting up from the sofa. "Then I'm all yours."

  "Hold on." Celeste pointed to the notebook in his hands. "Let's see if you can figure out the next clue first."

  Baron grinned. "Already did." He gave the notebook back to her. "I'll be back in five with my bag and Pretzel."

  "Pretzel?" said Celeste.

  Baron was already upstairs. "My dog!"

  "Dog?" It was the first time she'd heard anything about him having a dog.

  "He must be talking about a new girlfriend," said Paisley. "That's my guess."

  *****

  Pretzel's bark was the dog equivalent of a TV anchorman's delivery: a rich, resonant bass, pulled from deep in the chest and released with perfect pitch and tone control.

  Only it was almost unbearably loud inside the passenger compartment of Paisley's car. (They'd left Celeste's Hyundai in Akron. If Paisley had left the Toyota, Mitch might have taken it.)

  "Can't you shut that thing up?" said Paisley as she pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store.

  As usual, Baron ignored her. "BAROOOO!" said Pretzel.

  "Maybe they sell earplugs in here." Celeste wished the dog would settle down. She'd already had to fight to get Paisley to let him into her car.

  One of Pretzel's big, mangled paws flopped over the seat back and onto her shoulder. Birth defects had deformed the mixed breed's paws and forelegs, leaving him knock-kneed, pigeon-toed, and worse. Celeste was surprised he could walk, let alone run...but he managed to do both.

  When she turned to lift off the paw, Pretzel's huge, dark eyes blinked back at her. He had the face and color of a brown labrador, but his fur was shaggier than a lab's, and his legs were short like a beagle's.

  He had a familiar look in his eyes, or maybe Celeste was imagining it. Maybe she was just trying to add a layer of sense to the unexpected circumstances.

  Lately, it had been one weird surprise after another. Cary had disappeared without warning. Paisley had escaped being held prisoner by her husband. Baron had become Mr. Sincerity, dropping everything to help in a way that just wasn't like him.

  And a dog named Pretzel couldn't keep his paws off her.

  Things had been moving so fast that they hadn't sunk in, but Celeste had a feeling it would really kick her ass when they finally did.

  Paisley pulled up next to a gas pump and turned off the c
ar. "Time for Latoya Toyota's drink," she said. "Would you like some gasoline, too, Pretzel?"

  Celeste elbowed her in the ribs.

  "BAROOO!" said Pretzel.

  "Stay, Pretzel," said Baron. The dog obeyed as Baron popped out of the back seat and tucked the door shut. "I'm going to get a Coke."

  "I'll come with you," said Celeste, and then she got out, too.

  Shortly thereafter, she got another weird surprise.

  As she and Baron approached the store, a young guy in a t-shirt and jeans walked out. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Baron, then stepped back and held the door open.

  "Why, thanks." Baron nodded as he walked into the store.

  "Anytime," said the young guy. "Have a good one, fuck-man."

  Celeste did a double-take, not quite believing what she'd heard. Baron just gave the guy a thumbs-up and kept walking.

  The young guy grinned at Celeste and strolled away without another word. Celeste caught up with Baron at the soda machine inside the store and tapped him on the shoulder.

  "Did you hear what he just called you?" She hiked a thumb toward the door.

  Baron pulled a tall paper cup from the dispenser under the counter. "Don't worry about it," he said with a smirk.

  "Do you know him or something?" said Celeste.

  "Never seen him before." Baron held his cup under the ice chute in the middle of the soda machine's face. He pressed the cup against a silver lever, and ice chips slid down from the chute.

  Celeste dropped her voice to a whisper. "He called you 'fuck-man.' What's up with that?"

  "Comes with the territory," said Baron. He moved the cup under the Coca Cola spout and filled it with the press of a button. "I'm on TV, remember?"

  "Wow." Celeste shook her head. "Glad I'm not on TV."

  And that was that.

  At least until two minutes later, when she and Baron got to the cash register.

  The cashier rang up Baron's Coke and chips and Celeste's iced tea and candy bar, then held out her hand.

  "Four fucking fifty, fuck-man," she said, sniffing and shaking as she strained to hold back laughter.

  Baron sighed and paid her. "There you go."

  "Fucking thank you, fuck-man." The cashier was shaking so hard, she had to brace herself against the counter. "Have a fucking great fuck-day, fuckity fuck fuck!"

  With that, she finally exploded in laughter. She roared so loud, she dropped Baron's money all over the floor.

  Baron gathered up his Coke and chips and walked out of the store. Celeste followed.

  "'Comes with the territory' my ass," she said. "What is going on here?"

  "Just drop it." Baron kept walking toward the gas pumps.

  "Like that's gonna happen." Celeste scooted around and headed him off, blocking his path. "What's with all the f-bombs?"

  Baron shook his head. "It's nothing, okay?"

  At that moment, a passing car slowed on the road in front of the convenience store. The driver laid on the horn, and teenage boys popped out of the windows, screaming.

  "Hey, fuck-man!" they said. "Fuck-man! Fuck-man!"

  As the car raced off, Celeste raised an eyebrow at Baron. "Not nothing," she said. "Definitely not nothing."

  When Baron scowled at her, he looked a lot more like the uptight, smartass Baron she knew. "I said it on the air, all right?"

  "'Fuck'?" said Celeste.

  "In the middle of a 'cast," said Baron. "I thought my mic was off, and I said it, but the mic was live. Now it's the biggest joke in town."

  "Geez, Baron." Celeste's angry momentum drained away. "When did this happen?"

  "When did what happen?" said Paisley as she wobbled over from the pumps.

  "Last week," said Baron. "They took me off the air the next day. I'm suspended while the station management tries to decide what to do with me."

  "I have some suggestions," said Paisley.

  "That's terrible." Celeste paused as another car flew by with its horn blaring.

  No wonder he wanted to go with us.

  Baron shrugged. "It's my own stupidity," he said, "but yeah, it gets old pretty fast."

  "Will someone please tell me what the hell you two are talking about?" said Paisley.

  "Fuck you, fuck-man!" shouted a passing motorist.

  Suddenly, Paisley's eyes widened, and a smile spread over her face. "Wait a minute," she said, staring at Baron. "Are you the fuck-man?"

  "Let's get going." Baron walked around his sisters and headed for the car.

  "Going where?" said Celeste.

  "BAROOO!" said Pretzel, jumping around in the back seat as Baron got closer.

  "Confluence," said Baron. Pretzel shoved his muzzle out through the partly open window, and Baron patted it. "It's a little town southeast of here, near Clearfield."

  Celeste walked around the other side of the car and stared at him over the roof. "How the heck did you figure out that bizarre clue?"

  Find the mother and father both in one, who I was told had me as a son.

  "Isn't it fuckin' obvious?" Paisley grinned as she opened the car door. "Fuck-man's a fuckin' genius."

  *****

  Chapter Sixteen

  Johnstown, Pennsylvania, 1977

  Suddenly, Cary "The Hurry" burst out the back door in his super-hero costume, letting the door slam against the wall, and leaped off the porch. As his sneakered feet touched the ground, "Blacksheep" Grogan charged out after him.

  Gobs of shaving cream flew from Grogan's face and chest as he copied Cary's leap. "I'll get you, you p-p-piece of shit!"

  By then, Cary had run halfway across the yard and stopped to turn and wave. "Yoo-hoo! Come and get me!" He knew Grogan couldn't resist the bait, since Cary had been the one who'd sprayed shaving cream all over him.

  Grogan started toward him, then was hit in the face by a blast of water. He hollered and batted at the spray with both hands, and it kept on coming.

  "You're all washed up!" said Celeste, giggling as she followed him with the garden hose. She wore her full Spellerina costume--pink tutu, feathered Mardi Gras mask, pink and white ribbons in her blonde hair. She'd been standing to one side of the porch, just waiting for Grogan to chase Cary out of the house and land in the trap.

  The effect was just as the Nuclear Family kids had planned. Grogan was distracted and confused.

  Time for phase two.

  As Grogan staggered and got soaked, Baron ran out from around the corner of the house. Like Cary and Celeste, he wore his Nuclear Family costume--navy blue t-shirt with a big foil "M" for "Musclebot." The tail of a bedsheet trailed from the white bundle he carried in his arms.

  Here we go.

  Cary sprinted over and grabbed the trailing end of the sheet. It was the end of three sheets, actually, all wound like ropes and tied together with knots Baron had learned in Cub Scouts.

  Cary and Baron ran in opposite directions around Grogan, each carrying one end of the rope of sheets. Baron held his end up high, Cary held his down low, and together they wrapped the sheets around Grogan.

  Then, Celeste hit him with the hose again, and he fell back onto the waterlogged ground with a splat.

  The plan had gone perfectly. E.Q. was at work, Lydia was grocery shopping, and Grogan was at the mercy of the good guys.

  "Yay!" Celeste clapped and jumped up and down. "We did it!"

  "Yer out!" Cary chucked a thumb up and back like he was an umpire making a call in a baseball game.

  Baron planted a foot on Grogan's chest. "Thanks for the idea of ganging up on you. We figured we might as well do it for real, since you already got us in trouble for it."

  "You better m-make the most of it." Grogan struggled against his bonds. "When I g-g-get loose, you'll all w-wish you'd never b-been b-born."

  "Not gonna happen." Cary crouched and poked Grogan in the nose with a finger. "The Nuclear Family takes care of its own."

  Grogan laughed. "Try the Puke-lear Family."

  "What do we do with him?" said Paisle
y, standing near Grogan's feet and frowning down at him. She was dressed as Moon Girl, complete with black leotard, yellow cape, shorts, and sneakers, and black domino mask.

  "Sending him away would be good," said Cary.

  "Forever," said Celeste.

  "I wish," said Baron. "But we'd just get in bigger trouble."

  "It'd be worth it." Cary fiddled with the plastic goggles he wore as part of his Hurry costume, adjusting the strap around his head.

  "We're just gonna give him a message," said Baron. "A message he'll remember."

  "You d-d-dipshits have been reading w-way too many c-c-comics," said Grogan.

  "Leave us alone," said Baron. "That's the message."

  "Oh, okay." Grogan sneered, showing his oversized incisor fangs. "Whatever you r-retards say."

  Baron sat down on Grogan's chest. "It's four of us against one of you."

  "F-four retards," said Grogan.

  Baron slapped Grogan in the face. "If you keep messing with us, we'll get you. Every time, we'll get you worse and worse."

  The slap had knocked Grogan's head to one side. Slowly, he turned his head back to look up at Baron, eyes blazing with fierce hatred.

  "You get to watch," said Grogan.

  "Watch what?" said Baron.

  "While I k-kill your retarded brother and sisters. I'll kill you l-last so you'll get to watch them d-d-die." With that, Grogan jerked his head up off the ground and spat at Baron.

  The spit caught Baron on the forearm. He slapped Grogan in the face again, then wiped his arm on Grogan's t-shirt.

  "What's your problem, Grogan?" said Celeste.

  "Looks to m-me like you're the ones with the p-p-problem," said Grogan.

  "I wish you'd just go away," said Cary.

  Grogan laughed. "I wish the same thing about the f-four of you!"

  "Nobody wants you here, jerk," said Celeste.

  "Your mommy and d-daddy do. I'm their f-favorite."

  "You have to tell them the truth." Paisley gave her immaculate black hair a toss. "Tell them we're innocent."