The Peril of the Red Flame
Marco walked down the tunnel, carrying five grand in a leather wallet. Other than that falling-down stunt, Hellman had put on quite a show.
Roberto “Bobby” Alvarez stood in the hall in a gray suit. Two of Bobby’s men lurked over Hellman, beating him with crowbars.
Marco pulled out his gun. “Freeze.” Bobby’s men looked over at Marco and stopped. He glared at Bobby. “What are you doing?”
“It’s business. We told him to fall down in the third round. You saw what happened.”
“You tried to rig a fight in my place without telling me?”
“But at the retreat you gave that excellent speech about taking initiative. We were just doing what you told us to.”
“Take initiative anywhere but here. You’re messing with my legitimate business. You commit murder, and you’re going to get cops all over here.”
“If word gets out he double-crossed the organization and lived, people will say you’ve gone soft.”
“Get him into his dressing room before someone else sees this. I’ll take care of him.”
Bobby grinned, licking his chops. “We brought along a body bag. We’ll help load it into your car once you’ve whacked ’im.”
The two mugs carried Hellman into the dressing room. Marco entered after them. “All right, give me some privacy.”
The mugs left and Marco paced. He fingered his gun. What did he do? The last thing he needed on his conscience was killing a family man for somethin’ so stupid. But he couldn’t look soft either.
Hellman stirred, groaned, and rubbed his head.
Maybe letting Hellman live would square him with the Big Guy. “Get up!”
Hellman squeezed his eyes tight like he was trying to imagine a hot babe.
Macro kicked him. “I said get up.”
“Bricks should have fallen on your head.”
“Cute.” Marco trained his gun on Hellman. “In the body bag or I’ll put you there myself.”
“Okay, sure. I can’t knock down all six of you.” Hellman stumbled into the body bag.
“Now you’re going to go to sleep.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Don’t worry. I know the perfect lullaby.” Marco hit Hellman over the head with his .38. Hellman passed out. Marco zipped the bag up except for the last couple inches. Should be enough air until he could get Hellman to Doc’s.
###
Dave opened his eyes. Two sets of quadruplets wavered before him in the revolving room. One of the sets of quadruplets all looked like Marco.
Four men in white coats examined X-rays on the wall. “I don’t see a concussion. Are you sure he was beaten so badly?”
Dave yawned. “Where am I?”
The men in the white coats turned to him. “Mr. Hellman, you’re in a private clinic in Tacoma. You were accosted and have some minor internal bleeding, inflammation, and swelling, mainly to the torso. I’m giving you some codeine to help with the pain. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”
Dave rubbed his eyes a minute and looked up. Only two Marcos remained. Dave yawned and stretched. “What happened?”
“When those guys told you to fall down, they didn’t mean for you to get back up.”
“You mean they expected me to throw the fight?”
Marco nodded.
Dave shook his head. “Well, they didn’t use the right language. They should’ve told me to take a dive. In what comic book was anyone ever asked to throw a fight by being told to fall down?”
Marco cleared his throat. “They figured you’d double-crossed them, so they waited for you to kill you. But I knew you didn’t double-cross them. You’re just like my brother Louie.”
Dave grinned. “Really?”
“Yeah, he’s kind of stupid. Somebody once conned him into buying a deep sea diving business.”
“Why’s that stupid?”
“It was in Nebraska.” Marco laughed.
What’s stupid about that? “Once I’m better, I’m going after those guys.”
Marco raised his hands. “No, you’re going home.”
“But—”
“Hellman, I could have killed you in your dressing room. And if you want to go after them, I’ll kill you now, because they’ll kill me.”
But he couldn’t let criminals get away with attempted murder. Dave imagined the gun flying out of Marco’s pocket and towards him. Nothing. “But I’ve got a fight next week.”
“No. You’re dead. You can’t show up, or I’ll have to kill you. Go home to your boys.”
Derrick and James. Marco was right. Dave sighed. “But I need the money.”
Marco reached into his wallet and handed Dave a wad of cash. “Here’s your winnings from tonight.” Marco bit his lip. “Have you ever heard of farm subsidies?”
“What are they?”
“It’s where farmers are paid not to farm. We’re going to do fight subsidies. I’m going to pay you not to fight.” Marco handed over another wad of cash. “Here’s another two thousand dollars if you agree not to fight and not to come back to Seattle.”
Dave grinned. “You’ll never see this face in Seattle again.”
###
Booze, a sour stench, and sweat permeated the back seat of the bus home to Bryerton even though only maybe a dozen folks dotted the seats ahead of Dave.
Zolgron shimmered in the seat beside him, frowning. “Another close call.”
Dave laughed. “I got it. There’s no ocean in Nebraska.”
Zolgron blinked. “He said that two hours ago.”
“Well, I just got it.” Dave cleared his throat. “Zolgron, we need to talk. I can’t believe you almost got me killed again.”
“How did I do that?”
“You suggested getting involved in ‘physical contests.’”
“A physical contest could be pie eating. Getting involved in a no-holds barred fighting league was still your idea even if I helped you find them. Your powers offer plenty of safe ways to make money.”
The brakes screeched as the bus slowed and jerked to a halt.
Dave peered ahead. A construction worker in a yellow jacket stood holding a stop sign.
“How can I make money?” Dave looked out his window. Beside them, the driver of a tow truck with a praying Calvin cartoon animal on the cab hitched up a green Subaru with a crunched hood and a “Save the Earth” bumper sticker.
Zolgron pointed. “Now, if the tow truck driver had your powers, he would imagine the car fixed in exchange for a fee smaller than what the owner would pay to have it repaired.”
Dave whistled. “I could imagine the car was all better and that it changed into a blue monster truck with a Superman logo on it.”
He blinked at the blue Monster truck with a Superman logo hooked up to the tow truck. The bus engine roared and it lurched past the gaping men. Dave glanced at Zolgron.
Zolgron folded his arms. “I bet you’re going to say that was my fault.”
“No. The weird thing is my power didn’t work at all back when I was with Marco.”
“Must be the blow to your head. You should be able to control it better tomorrow. Just don’t imagine anything.”
“Not even a sixteen ounce porterhouse steak topped with mushrooms and served with mashed potatoes and brown gravy and cranberry sauce?”
The mouth watering dinner plate dropped onto his lap along with the restaurant napkin roll he pictured. Dave cut a bite of the steak and chewed it. “Needs more salt.”
A salt shaker appeared in Dave’s hand. Dave sprinkled some on the steak and the potatoes and winked the salt shaker back out of existence.
Zolgron growled. “You’re going to attract attention.”
Dave consumed the succulent meat one bite at a time, savoring the thick juices. He hadn’t enjoyed steak this good since his mom last made it for him. “What are you afraid of? Do you think everybody would like some?”
“Don’t imagine that! How are you going to explain a dozen strangers getting steak dinners without anyone getting off the bus?’
Dave took a bite and looked up. “Well, I could say it was a mi-steak.”
Zolgron slapped his head. “Creator, have I learned my lesson yet?” He turned to Dave. “You should probably ask someone of your own race how to use your powers to make money.”
“Like who?”
“Your wife.”
“But I can’t reveal my secret identity.”
“You’re not a superhero anymore.”
“Oh, you’re right. But won’t she be mad?”
“Maybe she’ll be less mad if you tell her after that picnic you’re planning for tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Dave drew a deep breath. “I’ll make her breakfast in bed on Sunday, and tell her the whole thing.”
###
Dave burst in his sons’ room and pulled back the blue Super Friends drapes. The pink sunrise beamed over the neighbors’ rooftops. “Wakey, wakey!”
His nine-year-old moaned, but at least Derrick got up. James continued to snore. Adolescents. Dave poked the male Sleeping Beauty hiding under the worn, faded Super Friends comforter. “Is he in a coma? Might have to use electroshock to awaken him.”
James groaned.
“Come on, we’re going to spend time together as a family.”
“Can’t we go back to being roommates?”
“Nope. Up and at ’em.”
###
Naomi hung on Dave’s arm. James rode up on the back of the palomino at the horse ranch they were visiting. Her baby was going to be a man soon. Tears filled her eyes.
Her husband removed the ridiculous ten-gallon cowboy hat the gift shop had conned him into buying and waved it in the air. “Yee-haw! Ride ’im, Cowboy!”
James turned beet red. A cowhand ran over and grabbed the reins of the horse. “That’s all for today, partner.”
James dismounted and brushed past his dad. “You are such a dork.”
Enough of that. Naomi grabbed James by the elbow.
He glared. “Mom!”
“We need to talk, Mister.”
Dave coughed. “Naomi, don’t you want to watch Derrick ride?”
We can’t always have what we want. “I’ll be right back.”
Naomi and James trudged away from the stables and behind a shade tree in front of the ranch house across the road. She pointed to the grass. “Sit down.”
James plopped down and squinted at her. “Make it fast.”
Never had back-handing a child seemed like such a good idea. “You need to be nice to your father.”
James smirked.
She glowered, placing a hand on her hip. “Boy, I wouldn’t be able to stand for a week if I treated my parents like you do us.”
“Sorry. It’s just that aliens have replaced my parents with pod people. Where did you put them, anyway?”
“Why the dramatics?” Other than being his father’s son.
James stood. “Last night, the man who watches more Saturday Morning Cartoons than even Derrick came into our rooms and called us over and said—” James cleared his throat. “—‘Men, we need to talk.’”
Was James trying to imitate his dad? He sounded more like Mighty Mouse.
The boy puffed his chest out the way his dad did when he was goofing off. “If you want your mother to be proud of you, you need to get a good education. Your mother won’t be proud of you if you’re just some stupid janitor, and I don’t want you becoming a cage fighter, even if you can get the most realistic temporary Superman tattoo ever.”
James coughed. “After Dad finally stopped the aimless rambling, he told us we needed to decide on where to go to college so you would know how much to save.”
Naomi gasped and covered her heart. “He talked to you about college?”
“Yup. Derrick’s first choice is the Air Force Academy. Dad insisted he have a backup in case we couldn’t get a Congressman to sponsor him, so Derrick also chose the Ohio College of Clowning Arts.”
Naomi blinked. “Clowning arts? Is that what I think?”
“Yeah, but Dad was fine with it being a clown college. He kept shoving that stupid list of colleges in my face until I chose an expensive one just to shut him up.” James stuck his nose in the air. “You’re looking at a future student of Wellesley College.”
Naomi chuckled. He really was his father’s son. “Son, there are many things you can be, but a Wellesley College student isn’t one of them. Wellesley is a women’s college.”
Scarlet flushed from James’s forehead clear to his neckline. “Figures that idiot wouldn’t sort those out.”
“You shouldn’t talk about your dad like that.”
“You mean Peter Pan?”
“That’s quite enough!”
“You’ve said it to Aunt Tillie a hundred times on the phone! Why is it okay for you to say it, but not me?”
Naomi grimaced. “I—”
“He only says good things about you.” James glared at her like she was the child and shook his head and ran off towards his father.
She cupped her face in her hands and wept. She’d mouthed off about Dave to Carmela, Leona, and dozens of others. Was she really a disrespectful wife? Should Dave really have taken Dad’s advice not to marry her on their wedding day?
But then again, Mom had submissively kept quiet when Dad’s ministering of the wrath of God broke the allegedly evil laws of men. And where had that gotten them? It put Mom and Naomi’s brother in early graves, though she could never prove Dad responsible for Mom’s death, and her brother, legally speaking, had taken his own life.
Shouldn’t she make sure everyone knew when Dave didn’t treat her right? Wasn’t that the safe thing to do?
Naomi wiped her face. That wasn’t fair. Dave’s biggest selling point when they were dating was being nothing like Dad. Maybe their difficulties weren’t all his fault. She’d be better. She’d be a good wife and never talk about Dave behind his back again.
She hesitated. Well, unless he really did something truly awful.
###
Dave elbowed his eleven-year-old. “Oh, come on, James. Admit it. You loved the horseback riding.”
James grunted.
Dave removed his really cool new cowboy hat and spread the blanket out on the freshly mowed lawn of the ranch house. He and the boys flopped down. Derrick reached for the basket. Dave grabbed his hand. “Hey, wait for your mother.”
Naomi came out from behind the tree.
Dave waved to her. “Come on over, Naomi. It’s time to eat.”
She squatted beside him before settling on the ground. She attempted to squeeze the air out of his lungs and sobbed into his shoulder. Dave held his wife. “What’s the matter?”
Naomi wailed. “I love you.”
What had brought this on? “I love you, too, Naomi.”
James grunted. “Aliens, I swear they’re aliens.”
Derrick stuck a handful of chips in his shirt pocket. “No, you’re the alien. You’ll never catch me. The Green Lantern will save me.” Derrick raced off towards the playground.
James grunted. “I can never take him anywhere.” He jumped up and sauntered after Derrick. “Come back, dork junior!”
Naomi shook her head. “Dave, we ought to have the boys visit friends tonight.”
“What are we going to do while they’re gone?”
Naomi put her arms around Dave’s neck and pressed her moist lips against his. “This.”
Dave smiled. “It’s a date.”
Powerhouse and the people he knew in Seattle seemed a million miles away.
###
Jimmy Olson lay between two garbage cans in the alley. It felt like an elephant on fire was sitting on his chest. His ears reverberated with the sound of the shot. Night Lord’s gang sped off after the retreating Japanese gang. Distant sirens grew ever fainter.
The eleven-year-old choked and coughed up a thick, metallic liquid, tears filling his eyes. He put his right hand on his chest, lifted the heavy limb away, and stared at his own life blood.
Powerhouse. Powerhouse, where were you? You promised to protect me. Powerhouse, help me. I could really use a superhero right now. I’m going to die. I’m scared. Please, Powerhouse, you could’ve stopped them. Help, somebody save me!
The world grew dim. His hand flopped against the pavement. Pastor Jones’s voice rang in his ears. “And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth.”
Clippety-clip. The noise reverberated through the alley. Someone was coming, someone wearing sandals, so not a member of the gang. An olive-skinned man stood over him.
Jimmy whimpered, “Powerhouse?”
His hero scooped him up, holding him in his arms like he was still a baby. The pain left like a bad dream. Jimmy spotted the ugly scar on his hero’s wrist and gasped. “I know you.”
Tears engulfed his hero’s cheeks. “Let’s go home, son.”