by Bryan Davis
I gulped. He knew me. But I couldn’t trust him. He looked too shifty. I wrapped Damocles’s belt just below my own and buckled it in place. With my hands now free, I pulled line from the second spool on my belt and threw the claw toward the ladder above. It looped around a high rung and held fast.
Milligan took a step closer. I pushed the auto-reel button and shot upward. When I planted my feet on a rung and began unfastening the claw, I stared down at him. Now what? Climb to the roof? Probably the best option. Just lie low and wait for him to leave.
He shook a finger at me. “Not helping your mom isn’t smart, Eddie. And it hurts me that you’re not being nice to an old family friend.” He laughed. “Get it? Hurts? Eddie Hertz?”
Although I trembled, I forced a confident tone. “As if I haven’t heard that stupid joke before.”
Milligan let out a tsking sound. “Like father, like son. A do-gooder who thinks he’s too high and mighty to work with someone like me. If you don’t watch out, you’ll meet the same fate. Trust me. I know what happens to people who don’t play the game.” He laughed with a snake-like hiss. “Good luck staying under the police radar with that big fat A on your chest. And that mask didn’t fool me, so you’d better not count on it.”
I glanced at the monogram on my shirt. Now it looked like a blinking neon sign telling the world my secret identity.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled down the sidewalk. “See you around, Eddie Hertz.”
The moment he turned a corner, I exhaled. Good. He was gone. But his words floated in my mind like a bad odor. He said he wanted to help Mom, but was he lying? Was he really an old family friend?
I shook my head. No time to think about that now. I shot the line again, this time across the alley to my apartment’s side. I leaped and swung to the opposite ladder. Now to get to the roof.
After auto-reeling the line back to the spool, I climbed the ladder to the attached stairway, then ran up the metal stairs, padding quietly to avoid waking anyone inside. Once on the roof, I ran along its flat top to our fire escape, slinked down to our window, and stooped under it. A glow shone from inside. Strange. The nightlight had broken, so something else must have been turned on.
Slowly straightening, I rose until my eyes reached the sill. A metal fragment lay there, and the window was open an inch or two. Strange again. Mom had locked it.
I picked up the metal piece and studied it. It looked like the locking mechanism, bent and broken. I peeked inside. Light from my closet illuminated Sam standing next to my bed as she stared at my desk.
I rose a bit more. Why would she turn my closet light on? She knew she wasn’t supposed to go in there no matter what.
Just as I began lifting the sash, she ducked under the desk. The little squirt probably heard the noise and decided to hide. Well, I wasn’t in the mood to play nice brother. Her shenanigans had to stop.
I pushed the window fully open. Sam shot to her feet, lifting the desk completely off the floor. “Eddie? Is that you?”
“Sam?” I climbed into the room and took my mask off. “How could you … what’s going … why are you picking up the desk?”
“My Princess Queenie ball rolled under it.” She set the desk down and emerged from underneath holding a blue and orange striped ball. “See?”
“But how did you … I mean … the desk is so heavy.” I stared at her arms, bare from her short pajama sleeves down to her hands. They looked thicker, strong and toned. “What happened to you?”
She spoke rapid fire. “I got up because I heard something in your closet. I turned on the light and saw a spider on the wall inside. I got a shoe to squish it, but when I hit it, another light came on. It made me tingle all over, but the spider was still there, so I hit it again, then the tingly light turned off. After that, I couldn’t sleep, so I opened the window to find you, but I didn’t see you anywhere. Then I decided to play with my ball to keep me from being lonely, ‘cause it talks.”
She bounced it on the floor. A tiny voice let out a squeaking phrase, too garbled to understand. When it silenced, she grinned. “Princess Queenie says she loves me.”
“But how did you pick up the desk? It must weigh a few hundred pounds.”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it’s not as heavy as you think.”
“Not likely.” I threw my mask into the closet and set Mastix on my desk. After unfastening the belts, I set them on the floor. “Flex your muscles for me.”
She raised both arms and drew her fists toward her head. Her biceps swelled, not as big as those of an athletic adult male but far bigger than normal for an eight-year-old girl. That meant her muscles developed in a matter of moments. The ray from my new invention enhanced her muscular cell growth and oxygen absorption.
I sat on my bed and whispered, “My superhero generator works.”
Chapter 4
Do Little Sisters Get All the Breaks?
Barely able to keep from shouting, I nodded at Sam. “That’s good. You can relax now.”
She let her arms flop to her sides. “I’m hungry. Did you bring home something to eat?”
I shook my head. “No wonder you’re hungry. Your metabolism is probably a roaring furnace.”
“Then let’s see what’s in the fridge.”
I shot up from the bed. “Wait. I want to try the generator on myself.”
“Whatever. Just hurry up. I could eat a horse.”
“Tell your stomach to cool it for a minute.” I dashed into the closet and flipped the generator switch on. The light in the ceiling panel flashed. Like Sam had said, a tingle ran across my body. After a few seconds, the built-in timer kicked in, and the light turned off.
I flipped the switch back to the off position, walked to the desk, and tried to pick up one end. Two legs lifted from the floor a couple of inches, but I couldn’t get them any higher. Maybe I had to wait a little longer for my muscles to grow, or the invention’s actuator needed to recharge. I could always try it again later.
I set the desk down and looked at my watch — 1:28 a.m. “Okay, Sam. Go raid the kitchen, but make it quick and be real quiet.”
“Do you want anything?”
“Maybe later.”
The moment Sam left, I withdrew Damocles’s cowl mask from under my shirt and laid it on the desk, my heart sinking again. The only superhero in the world was dead, and I couldn’t do anything to stop the fiends who killed him.
My hands trembled. My stomach felt like a tight ball of knotted ropes. But I couldn’t let grief immobilize me. I had to do what Damocles asked. Nothing was more important.
I turned on my computer, retrieved the flash drive from my pocket, and pushed it into the proper slot. A program automatically started. Damocles appeared on the screen, dressed in the same outfit he was wearing only moments ago, his mask in place as well as his gadgets belt, complete with Mastix. He stood next to a table covered with beakers, test tubes, and other laboratory equipment.
A robotic voice emanated from the speakers. “Camera and microphone detected.”
The camera on top of my monitor flashed on. The image of Damocles blinked. “Ah. I can see you now.”
“You can?” I blinked back at him. “You’re controlling the camera?”
“Yes. I am an artificial intelligence replica of Damocles. Since you activated me, I assume that I somehow met my demise.”
I nodded. Leave it to Damocles to write such an amazing artificial-intelligence program. “It’s true. You died a little while ago.”
Damocles squinted. “You appear to be quite young. I planned to turn this technology over to a brilliant scientist or a trained athlete, not a boy.”
“I’m twelve, but I’m …” How could I say it? Call myself a genius? Maybe not. “I know a lot about technology. I built my own computer from parts I got in trade from a friend, because my mother can’t
afford to buy one.”
Damocles cocked his head. “Do you know anything about holographic imaging?”
“Plenty. I invented my own projector. Like I told the real Damocles, I can project anything that’s digitized, even myself.”
“Then it looks like I chose the right person.” He lifted a thumb drive from the table. “The drive I gave you will provide the ability to project a hologram of me in case you need to make it appear that I am still alive.”
I touched the outside of my pocket. “He … I mean, you also gave me a red wallet. What am I supposed to do with it?”
“I have no idea. I must have left that detail out of my database for security purposes. If a villain had stolen this program, he would have no knowledge that he needs the wallet.”
“Needs it? For what?”
“I don’t know that either, but I can provide a clue.” Damocles opened a drawer in the lab table. “Do you have Internet access?”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty slow.”
“No problem. This is low-bandwidth stuff.” He withdrew a glowing sphere from the drawer and threw it at the screen. It splashed across the monitor and brought up a web newsfeed. “The program should now be accessing my unfinished business. Since I chose you, I must have believed you to be capable of replacing me and completing these tasks in spite of your age.”
Sam walked into the room with two sandwiches, one with a big bite taken out of it. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice muffled by peanut butter and jelly.
“Shhh. Just watch.” I read the top line of the feed — Filtering for Mephisto news. The next line looked like a link to an online newspaper. I clicked on it with the mouse. A new window opened, a full-page advertisement showing a photo of a man with a narrow face, thin eyebrows, and a crew cut.
I read the text out loud. “Wanted, a superhero to save the world. I am Chet Graham, president of Quasar Nuclear Physics Laboratory in Nirvana. Mephisto has stolen a fault-destabilization device from our vault, a device that could cause devastating earthquakes anywhere on the planet. He is demanding one billion dollars in ransom.
“At the risk of causing panic, I am revealing this theft publicly in order to call upon Damocles to meet with me so we can make a plan to stop Mephisto. It has been two weeks since I first tried to contact him about this looming crisis, and I hope public pressure will force him to be the superhero most people consider him to be. Damocles, I beg you. Help me stop this catastrophe. You’re the only person who can save the world.”
“Wow!” Sam said as she continued chewing. “So Mephisto is real.”
“I told you so. And I saw Damocles tonight.”
Her brow lifted. “Really? Did you talk to him?”
“For a little while.” I couldn’t tell her that he died. That had to stay a secret for now.
Sam swallowed and licked her lips. “I wonder why he won’t meet with that guy.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons.” I clicked back to Damocles and spoke toward the camera’s built-in microphone. “Did you schedule an appointment to meet with Chet Graham?”
Sam pointed, her mouth again full. “Is that him? Is that Damocles?”
Damocles bowed his head. “Yes, I am Damocles, Miss …” He paused, prodding for a last name.
Sam swallowed her mouthful. “Hertz.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What sort of injury did you sustain?”
She giggled. “No, silly. Hertz is my name. Samantha Hertz.”
“And I’m Eddie Hertz, also known as Archimedes.” I leaned closer to the monitor. “I read the ad that asked you to meet with Chet Graham. Did you or did you not agree to meet with him?”
Damocles picked up a small notebook from the lab table and flipped through the pages. “I have a meeting scheduled tomorrow night at midnight with Mr. Chet Graham on the roof of the Stellar building.”
“The Stellar building.” I blew out a sigh. “That’s downtown. I’ll have to take a bus.”
“You’ll have to?” Sam asked. “Why do you have to be there?”
“Because …” I looked her in the eye. She wouldn’t rest until she learned the truth. I let my gaze shift to her bulging arms, then to my arms, still as thin as usual. Maybe I would need Sam as a backup.
During the next few minutes, I told her everything — my adventures as Archimedes, the superhero generator in the closet, the fencer in the alley, Damocles’s death, and my need to replace him so Mephisto wouldn’t know that he had died. I even showed her his cowl mask as proof.
She listened carefully, chewing and nodding. For a young squirt, she was really smart. She could memorize stories in just one telling.
When I finished, she flexed her bicep. “Then I should be the superhero Mr. Graham needs to stop Mephisto’s plans.”
“You?” I laughed under my breath. “You wouldn’t last five minutes in the real world. It’s dangerous out there. It’s not like you’re Wonder Woman. You’re just a girl.”
“No, I’m not Wonder Woman. My superhero name is Princess Queenie Unicorn Iris Ponyrider Buttercup Olive Lover Rosey Is Posey.”
I mentally recited the name. The least I could do was memorize it and humor her. “Is it all right if I use the initials and call you Princess Quipbolrip for short?”
“No.” Staring at me, she chewed on.
I rolled my eyes. “Listen. I have to go to the Stellar building alone. The fencer I told you about might come by, so you need to stay here and protect Mom. The generator hasn’t worked for me yet, so you’ll have to be the muscles for our superhero duo until it does.”
She smirked. “So I’m Superman, and you’re Wonder Woman.”
“Don’t get a big head. The superhero generator probably needs to recharge. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be able to kick your butt.”
“I’d like to see you try it.” She crossed her arms and flexed, obviously enjoying the bulging muscles.
“We’re not going to fight each other. We’re a team.” I glanced at my watch again — almost two a.m. “Let’s get some sleep. We need to be wide awake for tomorrow night.”
Sam stuffed the rest of the second sandwich into her mouth. She waved at the monitor and whispered in a garbled voice, “Good night, Damocles.”
Damocles gave a half bow. “Good night, Miss Hertz. I hope you feel better soon.”
“But I’m not —”
“Shhh.” I pushed Sam toward her bed. “He’s just an artificial intelligence image. He can’t figure everything out.”
She slid under her covers and stared up at me, her eyes wide in the dim light. “I think I’m going to like being a superhero.”
I sat on her bed. “Why?”
She looked at a corner of the ceiling where a crack ran down the plaster wall, then at her dresser and its three missing pull handles. “Maybe I could make some money with my super strength.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “We’re not all that poor. At least we have a place to live.”
Her brow furrowed. “While you were gone, I heard Mom talking on the phone. She was asking someone for rent money. She sounded scared.”
“Who would she call at this time of night?”
“Someone called her. I heard the phone ring.”
“Did you catch the name?”
She nodded. “Milliken … or something like that.”
“Milligan. He’s the fencer.” I squinted. “How could you hear all that?”
“Well … she was crying.” Sam looked away and sniffed. “Maybe that made her louder than usual.”
“Hey.” With a gentle hand, I turned her head back toward me. “What’s wrong?”
Her chin quivering, she locked her teary eyes on me. “Why did Daddy have to die?”
“I don’t know, Sam. I just don’t know.” How many times had I asked that question myself? Even Mom couldn�
�t explain why the brakes failed a day after they were inspected. And since Milligan mentioned me meeting Dad’s fate, the failure seemed more suspicious than ever.
I whispered to myself, “Maybe someone murdered him.”
“Murdered?” Sam blinked. “Who would murder Daddy? He was the nicest man in the world.”
“Of course he was. I … I was just thinking too much.” I rose from the bed, stepped back, and looked her over. She had heard my quiet whisper and Mom’s phone call. What could it all mean?
I cupped my hands over my mouth and whispered as softly as possible, “Princess Queenie is a space alien.”
Sam crossed her arms and scowled. “She is not! She’s a fairy!”
I lowered my hands. “Well, Miss Fairy Princess, it looks like you have super hearing.”
Chapter 5
How Can You Keep a Secret
from a Sister Who Has Super Hearing?
Something bounced on my bed. “Time to get up, lazybones.”
I groaned. Sam’s voice. Perky. Annoying. The chirping of a songbird that needed to be strangled.
I half opened an eye. Rays of dawn peeked through our window. Since it was early July, it couldn’t be later than six. “Go back to bed.”
“But I’m not sleepy. And I’m hungry.”
I glanced at her arms — just as pumped as before. Her metabolism was still working overtime. “Then get a bowl of cereal. And don’t wake Mom up. It’s Saturday. I think she has the day off.”
Sam hopped off the bed and dashed out of the room, already dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and … a purple cape?
Sighing, I rolled out of bed and turned the computer on. An email message popped up — Jack from Electronics Depot.
Hey, Eddie. Got ten surplus solar cells you can have on the cheap. They’ll cost you just two hours of play time with your VR helmet. But you have to unlock all the beta weapons. I want to try the atomic cannon against the glowbots. Let me know.
