Wonder Guy

by Stone, Naomi

  “Hey, Ted,” he said when the familiar voice answered his call.

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “Greg Roberts, up in the Grad Lab.”

  “Right. Hey, Greg. What can I do for you?”

  “I came across something the other day when I did a check of the computer I’m using for my simulations.”

  “Right.” His voice held a question mark.

  “Looks like this system’s being monitored with a keystroke-capture setup and the data’s being sent off campus.”

  “Yeah, right. Prof Stevens asked me to set up the added data backup precaution. Said he was afraid some new virus would make it past our firewalls and wipe out all the research projects.”

  “Huh. I was just wondering.” Greg shifted the receiver to his other ear, leaning back in his chair. “So where’s he sending the backup data? Might save me some time in finding my data if there is a problem.”

  “He gave me an IP address for a secure server. Don’t have its physical locale.”

  “What’s the IP address?” Greg jotted down the info. “Well thanks, Ted. Guess I’ll check on it with the Prof.” Eventually.

  What now? Too soon to confront Professor Stevens. Professor Morrissey must have followed the trail further than this before talking to Stevens. How had he found out Stevens was selling off the research data? He must have tracked the IP address. Greg sighed. Dammit, Jim. I’m a computer engineer, not a hacker. Still, he’d learned enough to get started. He had a feeling Eric could show him a few tricks.

  * * * *

  Hank wheeled Aggie into the kitchen with a promise to call her again soon and left the two women alone together. Aggie could perfectly well have wheeled herself in and would have bristled at anyone else who’d offered, but she thanked Hank in dulcet tones before telling him she could have handled it herself. Not until he’d left did Gloria pour out the whole story of Jo’s death and the police investigation.

  Aggie caught Gloria’s hand, squeezing it as she wound up her account of Jo’s death, her voice choking at the last. The older woman’s grip conveyed warmth and a surprising strength. “Oh, Gloria, honey.”

  “I still can’t believe she’s gone.” Gloria leaned back in her chair at the table, the half-finished Blue Morpho cell shell on the table before her. Having lost one friend, she kept casting glances across the table to reassure herself of Aggie’s continued presence. Life now seemed ephemeral as a soap bubble. “I thought I’d take my mind off it by focusing on one of the more complicated beading projects, but that trick never works.” She tried for a joking tone but it came out as a sigh.

  “You’ve been here by yourself all afternoon? I’m so sorry I picked today to go out.” Aggie matched Gloria’s sigh with one of her own.

  “Oh, don’t be sorry. How would you know? If anyone deserves to get out more, it’s you. Besides, I wasn’t alone the whole time. Greg stopped over and sat with me for a while. It helped a lot.” He’d made an amazing difference in fact. She didn’t know what she’d have done otherwise. Maybe just sat on the stoop weeping until Aggie returned. She’d needed an understanding ear, the comfort of a friend.

  “I’m glad to hear my son made himself useful.” Aggie smiled fondly. “He does come in handy once in a while.”

  “Yeah,” Gloria admitted half reluctantly. It was more fun to tease Greg than to stop and consider his virtues. “Pete was at work, but he said he’d come by afterward and we’ll talk over supper. Except now I don’t feel much like going out. Or much like eating. I’m just tired. Exhausted.”

  “I know. Grief takes it out of you.” Aggie bit her lower lip. “I’ve lost a few people over the years. Your mother, Evie for one. We were good friends. It surprised me how close we got. You never know who you’re going to get for a neighbor but it turned out we had a few things in common, and she was great, kind, funny, smart. With her around, Ike was a whole different person. I don’t think he ever got over losing her.”

  Weird to think of her mother being someone’s friend the way she and Jo had been friends, but of course there’d been more to her mother’s life than being Gloria’s mother or her father’s wife. Now she’d never have the chance to know her mother as one adult with another. All she had were her childhood impressions of the woman who’d cared for her, hugged her, scolded her, fed her, read her bedtime stories and tucked her in at night. She remembered the lilac scent of her mother’s bath powder, her way of doing all the voices in the stories she read aloud and the feel of the soft cotton t-shirts she’d worn with jeans around the house.

  Did she remember her mother’s face? She might remember only the images from old photographs. It seemed hard to believe at this moment, but eventually her memories of Jo would dim too. How long would it take for her friend to become no more than a few faded memories?

  “I’m sorry.” Gloria recalled the topic at hand. “I am tired. Maybe I’ll call Pete to cancel, get to bed early tonight so I can make a fresh start tomorrow. Just...”

  “What?” Aggie had picked up the piece Gloria had been beading and turned it from side to side, absently studying the glitter and shine of the iridescent blue crystals as if she too were lost in memories.

  “I hate to have to deal with Dad tonight.” Maybe he’d been a different person for her mother, but the person he’d become represented too much work, weary as she was with shock and grief. He’d find a way to make her loss about him and his needs. She couldn’t handle it right now. Ike had never been good at offering comfort. Even Pete might listen and make sympathetic noises, but he’d never lost anyone close to him and right now she needed to be with someone who actually understood.

  “Well, when you call Pete, you can call Ike too and tell him we decided to make it a sleepover,” Aggie offered. “He’ll understand when you explain what happened. It’s hard to tell sometimes, the way he’s been, but your father does love you. Maybe he just needs you too much to loosen his hold and admit it.”

  “Thanks.” Gloria felt suddenly shy, like Aggie had read her mind. “I’ll make the calls.”

  “And I’ll make some popcorn and we can watch a movie, or work on projects, or both, until you’re ready to sleep.”

  * * * *

  Long past his usual suppertime, Greg finished coding a new set of simulations to run overnight. Even then, the thought of eating held no appeal. All afternoon, he’d had trouble concentrating. Someone’s life might be in danger while he focused on testing potential variables in a photonic CPU. It seemed impossible to gauge the relative value of his work in computing against what he might do as a superhero. Maybe he should ask for the power to be in two places at once.

  He clicked a few keys to start the simulation, gathered his scrawled notes into his backpack, collected his water bottle, helmet and bike’s front wheel. He’d leave his things on the roof of the building for now and make a sweep as Wonder Guy. He’d feel better about going home for supper if he’d first done everything in his power to safeguard the city.

  It might be June, but in Minnesota the evening breeze still got plenty cool, at least up on the roof, and cooler still when Wonder Guy leapt high into the air. There must be some insulating property in his costume considering how little the cold bothered him. Or maybe that was part of being Wonder Guy–like Superman, as impervious to the cold as to bullets, comfortable even in an arctic fortress of solitude.

  Greg soon forgot the evening’s chill as he cut higher through the evening sky. The subdued twilight colors of the heavens stretching around him created a dreamlike ambience. He might be flying in a dream, the world melting into shadows and watercolor pools around him if not for the cold breeze slapping his face. The lights of houses and cars appeared like stars below him, only adding to the effect. Highway 35 became a chain of sparkling gems, crossed by the blazing diamonds and rubies of I-94. Everything looked peaceful and perfect from this height.

  The transmitter blasted a sharp buzz in his ear.

  “Ow!” He clapped a hand to his head. “What
?” He modulated his tone. “I mean, what?”

  “That’s better, dear. There’s a robbery in progress over on the West Bank of the University,” Serafina said, tart and brief.

  Greg turned his flight path even as she spoke. He’d already strayed nearer to St Paul than he’d intended. He’d have to follow Riverside Avenue back toward the University to reach the west bank.

  “It’s a bar on Riverside, near the intersection with Cedar Avenue,” she continued. “But remember what I told you–”

  He lost the rest of her words as he found himself abruptly flailing, hurtling uncontrolled through the air, arcing downward along the path he’d begun, like a thrown ball losing its impetus. He yelled, “Holy fucking shit. What the hell?”

  “Language, dear.”

  St. Mary’s Hospital loomed before him. He tried to gauge whether his path would smash him into the top floor of the building or not. With a rush of air, the brick facade slid too quickly by. Descending at a shallow angle past the building, he missed it by inches. Luckily, no other tall structures stood in its neighborhood.

  Or not so luckily, nothing remained to stop him from smashing to earth at high speed when he reached the end of his descent. Coming in at this angle, it looked like he’d smack into the road in front of the very bar he’d been aiming for. It said good things about his sense of direction, but nothing else about the situation looked good. He’d lost Wonder Guy’s power of flight and had no reason to expect he still had Wonder Guy’s impervious-to-bullets ability to withstand the impact.

  This was it. So much for Greg Roberts and his stupid dreams of winning Gloria’s love.

  Chapter 13

  When Gloria told him she was too tired to go out, Pete said he understood perfectly. “You should get your rest,” he told her. “I’m glad you’re doing better now than when you called before.”

  “I’ll be even better after a good night’s sleep.” She said her goodbyes. If she was doing better, it was no thanks to him, but she could hardly blame the man for wanting to keep his job.

  She tucked her cell phone back in her bag then joined Aggie at the kitchen worktable.

  “It’s fine with Pete,” Gloria reported, resuming her chair. The Blue Morpho cell shell sat completed. She started collecting the containers of tiny crystals, returning them to their proper places on the shelves. “He even seemed relieved.” More relieved than sympathetic to her loss, but maybe she wasn’t being fair. “He doesn’t usually like going out on week nights when he has to be up early for work and we already went out to dinner with his parents the other night.”

  “Well, that’s for the best then.” Aggie backed from the table. “Why don’t I fix us something to eat?”

  “I’m not very hungry.” Gloria slumped back in her chair.

  “Some soup will do you good.” Aggie wheeled toward the fridge. “I’ll heat up some of that chicken, wild rice and veggie soup I made Sunday. I bet if you try a taste, you’ll want some more.”

  “Fine.” Gloria found the remote. “Mind if I check out the news?” They’d been tuned to some ancient sitcom with the sound turned low while they chatted over their projects. She hadn’t even registered which show.

  “Go ahead.” Aggie moved between fridge and stovetop. The stove had been customized to be accessible for her. She did a lot of cooking. Gloria loved her chicken wild rice soup. Aggie actually used wild rice, unlike some restaurants she’d visited where they used a mix including a few grains of the wild, but mainly consisting of white rice. She flicked to a news report and turned up the sound.

  Dinosaurs? What the heck?

  “There, you see it, Ken,” the newswoman said. “Footage captured on a cell phone this afternoon at Lake Calhoun, where hundreds of people reported seeing real dinosaurs battling in the waters of the lake.”

  “But by the time our cameras arrived on the scene, any dinosaurs had disappeared. Isn’t that right, Linda?”

  “That’s right, Ken. People at the scene say the local hero known as Wonder Guy carried a T-rex above the clouds, as seen in this clip, and a minute or two later the other dinosaur–”

  “The Apatosaurus I believe, Linda.”

  “That’s right, Ken. The Apatosaurus vanished from the lake a couple minutes after Wonder Guy carried the T-rex away.”

  Gloria watched the footage, fascinated. Wonder Guy slung the tail of the gargantuan beast over his shoulder, hefting it like a bag of potatoes, dragging it from the lake, up to the heavens. Wow. Even as strong as he was, it seemed incredibly brave to tangle with a vicious monster many times his own size. Wet from his dip in the lake, his costume did even more to show off the lean musculature of his powerful form. If only she’d spoken to him when he’d come to her rescue just yesterday. She could kick herself for missing the chance. She’d probably never get as close to him again.

  “Unbelievable, Linda,” Ken continued the commentary. “Authorities have declined to comment on where the dinosaurs came from or where they went. A spokesman from the mayor’s office suggests it was some sort of trickery, a hoax perpetrated with hi-tech holographic imagery.”

  “No one can say for sure, Ken, but Wonder Guy has been in the news before. The police have confirmed that he has prevented several crimes around town, and yesterday cameras caught him in action restraining an elephant that went out of control during a parade in Uptown.”

  “That’s right, Linda. We’re all grateful to this masked hero who has been doing so much to keep Minneapolis safe for it citizens. Now here’s Ted Ewing with the weather.”

  Gloria turned down the sound. “Did you hear that, Aggie?” She lifted her voice over the clatter Aggie made in pulling bowls and spoons from their places.

  “Something about Wonder Guy and dinosaurs?”

  “Yes, and they showed video clips. But dinosaurs, live ones anyway, in Minneapolis? It’s crazy. Whoever said it must be some kind of hoax is probably right. Maybe it’s a promotion for some new dinosaur movie.”

  “I suppose.” Aggie’s tone allowed for doubt.

  “I saw Wonder Guy up close. He’s real. What he did with the elephants seemed real. Only, how could there possibly be live dinosaurs in this day and age?”

  “Sometimes the answers aren’t as simple as we’d like. Not black or white, real or hoax. A dream is a real experience. While dreaming, you feel real feelings and see real visions, even if it isn’t real in the same way this table and chairs are real, or the soup is real.” Aggie tapped her ladle against the steel saucepan.

  Gloria stared at her friend. “When did you get to be such a philosopher?”

  “It was my minor in college,” Aggie reminded her. “I must have mentioned it before.”

  “Maybe. I’ve always been more impressed that you majored in art.” She grinned. “When I was a kid, I thought I’d won the lottery, having you for a neighbor, with all the arts and crafts projects you shared with me.”

  Aggie wheeled slowly back with a couple bowls on the tray across her lap, steaming with scents of chicken broth, marjoram and sage. “I was glad to. My only son showed no interest. I’m only sorry you never got to go to art school yourself. You have such an aptitude for it.”

  She set a bowl before Gloria and brought the other to her own place at the table. The scent of the thick, creamy soup tempted Gloria into taking a sip. The flavor filled her mouth with warmth and comfort. She tried a bit more. “Mmm. This is good, Aggie.” She paused to swallow. “Oh yeah, real good, and thanks, I’ll get to school someday. In the meantime, I love our projects together. I’m doing something artistic here.” She smiled at the shelf where they displayed what they counted as their finer ‘art’ pieces.

  They fell into a companionable silence as they ate. Gloria turned up the TV, now reporting the national news.

  * * * *

  “Do you read me, dear?” Serafina must have been calling him all along, with her voice drowned out by the rush of air and the pounding of his pulse in his ears as he hurtled helplessly toward impact wit
h the road below. Only moments had passed, though it seemed a lifetime.

  “Yes.” His voice sounded higher pitched than usual. “I read you.”

  “Good. Don’t worry, dear. You’ll regain your power before you hit ground. Just get further past St. Mary’s.”

  Gee, that’s swell. The road rushed under him. What did St. Mary’s have to do with it? He skimmed above someone’s SUV, envisioned himself hitting the road, bouncing, hitting again, scraping his hide off all the way down Riverside and onto the highway. But no. If Serafina had it right, he had to focus on lifting back into flight when his power kicked in again.

  He strained upward as the road rushed to meet him. Inches from impact, he gained some height. He strained harder, reaching, arching upward, gaining enough height to avoid smashing into a bus passing down the intersecting Cedar Avenue. Hot damn!

  Greg angled around and brought himself to a controlled, careful landing outside the bar. He put his hand on the brick wall and leaned there for a moment, just outside the door, as his racing pulse steadied.

  “Serafina?” he inquired. “What was all that?”

  “Later, dear. Robbery in progress.”

  “But–”

  A gunshot cut through his thoughts. Greg dashed through the bar’s door. Bullets slammed into his chest, no more a deterrent than moths against the windshield of a speeding car.

  The bar occupied a long, narrow space where half a dozen patrons, a waitress and bartender sat or stood frozen. Two men in ski masks. The one furthest from the door held a gun on the patrons. No one appeared injured. The first shot must have been a warning.

  The gunman nearest the door faced him, gun aimed at the big W on Wonder Guy’s chest, staring expectantly, as if still waiting for his target to fall.