by Stone, Naomi
“Let’s get closer.” Gloria led the way, finding gaps between the small clusters of people, some in office dress like themselves, some in slacks or jeans with shopping bags or small children in hand. They reached the street in time to see banners unfurling, accompanying a fanfare of trumpets.
“What’s all this?” she asked, distracted by tumblers tumbling by, jugglers juggling their way past, and a fire-eater producing a great spout of flame as he crossed in front of them.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” A herald clad in a purple and gold tabard over purple tights stepped out in front of the similarly garbed trumpeters. He unrolled a long parchment scroll, reading from it in tones of great importance. “His majesty, King George of the Renaissance Realm declares his intent to hold court on the shores of yon Lake Calhoun. Come join in the festivities and make merry sport with us.”
“Oh, fun.” Jo’s exclamation was half sigh. “I wish we had the time.”
Gelpe’s Bakery stood on the far shore of Hennepin Avenue with an entire parade flowing like a river between the curbs. Gloria resigned herself to being entertained–and late getting back to the office.
“Ooo. Belly dancers.” Jo gripped Gloria’s arm, pointing.
“Wow. How do they do that?” Gloria gawked at a woman who danced ahead of the others, her belt of golden coins flashing and jingling with the rapid swing of her hips, while, remarkably, she balanced a scimitar, pointy edge up, across her head of dark curls. “I’d be scared to even try–probably cut something off.”
The drummers passed so close conversation became impossible. Jo nodded in time with their beat.
Behind the dancers and drummers marched a column of men and women in elaborate costume. Gloria stood fascinated by the gowns and doublets, damask corsets, floppy hats, dashing cloaks and swords, slashed sleeves, puffed sleeves, velvets, brocades and satins. She’d love to dress up like a member of the royal court, keep company with the wilder characters. A wizard strode along in flowing robes. A fairy with glittering beaded bodice and wild, out-flung wings danced by. Scurrilous pirates brandished swords and men at arms bore spears held high, their pennants catching in the spring breeze.
The King and Queen followed on horseback, surrounded by armored knights. The Queen’s crown and underskirt of cloth of gold glittered in the sunshine. Gloria sighed over the ropes of (okay, probably fake) pearls, memorizing details of the elaborate sleeves and overskirt. Why didn’t people dress like this anymore?
She glanced down at her sensible business-casual ensemble. “Suddenly I feel like a peasant.”
“I know what you mean.” Jo laughed beside her, her spiky dark hair motionless in the breeze.
Taking up the rear, an elephant followed with ponderous steps and swaying trunk. Its keeper rode in a howdah on its back. A banner hung down its sides reading, ‘Free Elephant Rides at the Lake.’
“I wish we didn’t have to get back to the office.” Gloria pointed out the banner. “How fun would that be?”
“Maybe next time.” Jo shrugged.
“Maybe there won’t be a next time. I’ve never seen them do this before.” Wishing for something she couldn’t name, Gloria looked down the street to where the leaders of the parade had already turned a corner toward the lake.
“I have.” Jo’s green eyes gazed off at some point in her memory. “Every once in a while the Festival people put on a parade like this and do an afternoon’s show at the lake.” She turned back to Gloria. “It’s some kind of promotional thing.”
As they spoke, Gloria glimpsed some motion at the edge of the crowd. What?
A child–a little sandy-headed girl no more than three years old–pushed a baby stroller bigger than herself into the street, moving on eager feet toward the elephant. Where was the mother? A father? Gloria scanned the crowd, spotted a woman holding back a little boy who howled in protest, straining to follow the girl with the stroller. With her back to the street, the woman couldn’t see what the boy reached for. The drums and pipes and trumpets of the parade made it impossible to call out and bring her attention to the stray child.
Gloria darted into the street, heading to intercept the girl with the stroller before the tot reached the elephant. The animal was probably perfectly tame, used to being around children and crowds on a regular basis, but her heart went to her throat at the sight of the tiny girl rushing toward those massive feet. The girl had a head start on her, being further down the street in the direction the parade moved, but Gloria made good time. She’d nearly reached her quarry when out of the crowd, a red Frisbee flew straight at the pachyderm’s eye.
The beast reared back, lifting its trunk to block the flying object, trumpeting, throwing its surprised master from the howdah. She caught up with the little girl and pulled her into her arms as the elephant dropped back to the earth, the impact shaking the ground. The beast swung its massive body and trunk back and forth as if to ward off further attacks. A thin, wailing cry rose from the stroller. The elephant’s wild trunk passed within a hand’s breadth of Gloria’s head. Heart in throat, on watery limbs, she backed away, pulling the girl and stroller with her.
Chapter 6
When Greg’s thoughts finally turned to lunch, he set his simulation to run on auto and headed up the backstairs of the Computer Engineering building. The roof would be a good place to test his new powers. On the landing to the access door he paused long enough to say, “Super-ize me,” before stepping out onto the graveled surface of the roof into the sunshine and a crisp breeze.
He twisted the outer handle, making sure it wouldn’t lock him out, then closed the door behind him with a gauntleted hand. Serafina had sure taken the gold and green theme to heart. He wore gloves the golden color of ripe wheat. His arms and legs were clad in some stretchy skin-tight fabric of the same color, with a slight sheen glimmering in the sunshine. He wore knee-high boots green as grass, like the jerkin covering his torso. A golden ‘M’ stood emblazoned on his chest. Make that a ‘W,’ given he saw it upside down. ‘W?’ What did it stand for? ‘Weird?’ ‘Whacky?’ Might he be the latest in a line of fairy godmother-created heroes, starting with A, B and C?
He flexed his toes, bouncing on them, going higher each time.
He had a craving for the scallops with cashew nuts and basil they made at Rainbow Chinese. Would it be wrong to use his new superpower for the personal advantage of getting clear across the city to his favorite restaurant in Uptown for lunch? It would save time if he didn’t have to bike there, and he’d like to get as much work done as possible this afternoon.
He bent his knees deeply and jumped as high as possible, startling a pigeon whose flight path he intercepted, leaving the rooftop far below. A lot depended on whether Serafina interpreted Superman’s powers according to the early years, when he only leapt tall buildings, or the later years, when he actually flew. Greg stretched himself, reaching skyward with both hands, straining for flight.
Wind whistling around his ears, he continued to ascend long after the impetus from his leap must have been exhausted. He bent slightly at the waist, angling around to level out and head west, away from the University. Flying–flying!–one arm stretched out before him.
Now this was magic, no mere function of impetus and momentum. He’d forged a whole new relationship between earth and air, between mortal man, the wind, the sky and the clouds. The wind stroked his face, touching the planes of his cheeks and jaw around the edges of his mask, combing back his hair like a lover’s hand.
As if swimming, he angled himself through the supportive currents of the sky. He dove upward until he flew wrapped in the moist cloak of a cloud, and lifted to further heights still until he looked down upon the cloud towers and billows as if walking among their shimmering halls.
Wow. He passed high above the tallest buildings in downtown Minneapolis before veering south along Hennepin Avenue. The city spread below him like a quilt pieced together from the squares of neighborhoods and parks, its predominant color drawn from the greenery of t
rees lining the streets and filling the parks. All looked brighter and fresher and more alive than any satellite photo he’d ever seen. All right. This was great. He zoomed in on the smallest details even from this height. Telescopic vision. Probably x-ray vision, too, but he’d wait to check that out.
Looking ahead, he aimed toward his goal, seeking out the restaurant. As he hunted for a discreet place to land, he spotted some unusual activity along Hennepin Avenue. Vehicular traffic had been diverted from the road and a section extending north from Lake Street churned and glittered with what looked like a parade. From blocks away and high above, telescopic vision zeroed in on the belly dancers. He scanned the length of the route, taking in the costumes and performers, the sounds of drummers and pipes, the scents of mighty steeds–and of elephant.
As he scanned for a spot to land, a red Frisbee caught his attention. It sailed toward the pachyderm. The great beast reared up on its hind legs, trumpeting in alarm.
* * * *
Heart pounding in her ears, breath coming short, Gloria didn’t dare close her eyes as she backed away. She clutched the squirming girl protectively close, pulling the stroller and its occupant along with them. People screamed and shouted. The elephant’s trainer had fallen to the street on the other side of the beast now stomping and rearing again as other members of the parade rushed toward it.
Why did those idiots wave their spears around? It scared the elephant. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
Backing away, her foot hit something unseen behind her. She stumbled, tried to catch herself, but fell with the girl across her lap. The stroller tottered, but righted itself beside her while the infant wailed its protest.
Gloria nearly swallowed her heart as the elephant skittered sidewise, away from the men with spears, toward her and the children. No time to get out of the way. She squeezed her eyes shut. Then, as a sudden hush fell, she opened them again.
A man stood between her and the huge beast looming above. It looked like a shoving contest between him and the elephant. He stood braced with his back against the beast’s foreleg.
Strain showed in every line of a beautifully muscled body clad in skin-tight gold and green. He seemed to be winning. The elephant lost traction, skidding backward as the man pushed. Gloria had never seen anything as wonderful as the hero in gold and green. The contours of his form appeared as subtly turned and unyielding as the limbs of a tree. The firm shapes of his clenched jaw and the determination in his eyes made her catch her breath. Her heart skipped a double-time beat when his gaze met hers for a moment.
While the hero held the animal in place, the trainer rushed forward and stood at the beast’s head, apparently talking into its ear. The beast shied again when the men wielding spears started forward. The hero in gold and green drew a deep breath and blew out again, a gust at near hurricane force, driving back the well-meaning spearmen.
What part of the Renaissance featured comic book heroes? Gloria wasted a moment of precious time staring, mouth agape, at the impossible, incredible, wonderful man, and only then scrambled hastily to her feet. The tot she’d rescued pointed and clapped as if it were all part of the show. Gloria dragged the child away, the awkward stroller impeding her progress. It jolted over a chunk of asphalt thrusting up from the road, probably the same thing she’d tripped on before. The bump aggravated the infant’s wails.
“My babies!” A harried-looking woman rushed toward her from the now cheering crowd. “Give me my babies!”
Gloria put the stroller between herself and the newcomer. She’d used her last nerve. No way was she going to deal with an over-wrought mother on top of everything else. “You’re welcome,” she grumbled, thrusting the stroller and girl toward the woman. Eager to escape the scene that had sent her heart scrambling for a steadier beat, she turned and walked away, too overwrought to spare a glance back at her hero. Needing to touch base with the familiar and normal, she searched for Jo among the faces of strangers.
* * * *
Whatever the trainer did at its ear, the elephant gradually grew calmer. It stopped pulling and pushing against Greg’s hold. It lowered its trunk until, at last, the beast rocked placidly in place on legs as large and rough as tree trunks.
Greg stepped away and turned to find a cheering crowd. Dumbstruck, he stood frozen. What should he do? A glance around gave him the answer. Judging by the clapping and cheering, the crowd seemed to think him part of the show. He made a flourish with his arms and took a bow. The cheers grew louder.
He held up his hands, acknowledging the applause, praying for it to stop. His face grew hot. He wasn’t used to this much attention. He’d always been a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.
Thinking to get the hell away from there, Greg stepped away from the pachyderm only to be swarmed by belly dancers. They draped themselves on his arms, petted every part of him in reach and crowded so close he feared it would take violence to escape them.
“Er, thanks, ladies.” He found his voice. “That’s very nice. I hope you’ll excuse me.” He edged and sidled between them, angling for freedom. “Duty calls. A hero’s work is never done.”
“Oh, don’t go so soon,” cooed a redhead in a cobalt-blue gauze skirt and golden bangles.
“No, stay. Come along to the lake,” said the brunette whose thick curls hung long enough to frame her very ample cleavage.
“Please,” coaxed all the blondes: short and tall and scantily clad in what seemed an entire rainbow of gauzes and silks and a plethora of finger cymbals and bells and beads.
He lightly lifted the brunette as if she weighed no more than a Chihuahua, and set her aside, managing a step forward.
“Ooo. At least tell us your name,” she begged.
“Um.” Name? What should he call himself? The wisdom of maintaining a secret identity seemed only too clear at the moment.
“I know.” The redhead traced the golden ‘W’ on his chest with her forefinger, making a caress of it. “The ‘W’ stands for ‘wonderful.’ He’s Mr. Wonderful!”
“No, no. That’s not my name,” he protested, peeling himself free of another one by picking her up and setting her aside. “You can call me Wonder Guy.”
“Wonder Guy,” they breathed in unison as he stepped back, eluding the reaching arms, and leaped high into the air.
* * * *
“Are you okay? Jo asked when Gloria caught up to her on the sidewalk outside Gelpe’s. “I thought that elephant would stomp you to mush.”
“So did I.” Gloria took a deep breath to steady her still shaky nerves. “I’ll never look at Dumbo the same way again.”
“Was that guy for real? It looked like he pushed the elephant away from you. Was it part of the act?”
“The elephant didn’t seem to be acting.” Gloria shuddered at the memory of the beast looming all too close above her. “I’d swear the guy really pushed the elephant away. It sure didn’t give him any help.”
“Oh wow. And what a hunk.” A dreamy look crossed Jo’s face. “I wonder who he is?”
“Me too.” Glancing back, Gloria spotted the bevy of belly dancers surrounding the hero. Her hero.
“Why are you frowning so hard?”
“Am I?” Gloria forced a smile. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Certainly not jealous thoughts of belly dancers. Even though the hero they petted had saved her. If anyone should get to show her gratitude, to pet and pamper him, it should be her. It wasn’t fair. She sighed. She didn’t have time for this. “How late are we?”
“We should have been back in the office ten minutes ago, but we might as well pick up the cake since we’re here.” Jo led the way to the shop.
* * * *
Man. Greg flew with super speed to the deserted alley behind the Rainbow Chinese restaurant. No way had he been prepared for the reaction of the crowd–or those dancers. He didn’t know whether to be flattered, embarrassed, titillated or horrified. Maybe all at once. Alone, he breathed easier. The pounding of his heart eased. H
e leaned against the brick wall behind him and said, “Back to Me.”
Good. He smiled to find himself clad in his familiar button-down plaid shirt and beige slacks. He ran a hand through his hair. No more mask or gloves. Normal was good. All he wanted now was a nice normal lunch of scallops with cashew nuts and basil. But first, “Serafina?”
“Yes, dear?” There she stood beside him, wrinkling her button nose at the overfull dumpster nearby.
“This is great so far. I love flying... and the way Gloria looked at me earlier.” How would he say this without offending her? “Just one thing... Didn’t I say I don’t want Gloria to be endangered by all this?”
“Yes, you did and I commend you for it.” Serafina patted his arm, took it, steered him toward the mouth of the alley. “But I wasn’t responsible for what she did, dear. Your young lady has her own ideas and her own heroic impulses. If she hadn’t been there, following her own path, there’s no telling what might have happened to the little girl and baby Gloria ran to save.”
He’d missed that part in all the confusion. “She saved a little girl and a baby?” Gloria had put herself in danger to go after those kids? And she’d done it without any superpowers. She was the hero here.
“She kept them from being in the wrong place at the wrong time–and you were in the right place to save her when she fell. It all worked out very nicely and you got there on your own. Very good, dear.” With another pat, she released his arm.
He’d only followed his impulse to go for lunch. How had he managed to be in the right place at the right time? He closed his mouth on the unasked question. Serafina had vanished again. Before he asked her what happened to the keys and wallet in his pockets when he switched to his Wonder Guy costume. A rumbling stomach reminded him he still hadn’t gotten his lunch. At least he had his wallet now. Greg blinked, emerging from the alley into the sunshine and headed for the front of the restaurant.
He held a Styrofoam take-out container when he returned to his guise as Wonder Guy and took flight from the alley behind the restaurant. An odd crunching sound had accompanied his leap into the air. He twisted a hundred feet above the alley, focusing his enhanced vision on the scene below.
