Bolt, From Dubuque (Part 13)
By: Ann Nonymous
The sweet nothingness of sleep still embraced Lana as she became aware of a persistent knocking sound. At first it seemed far away, but as she pulled further out of her sleep, it grew louder and more demanding. She could distinctly hear the catch of the door rattling against the frame, the pictures on her apartment wall starting to clatter in rhythm. A moan escaped her lips as she slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe, shuffling out of her room and toward the door. The fog of sleep still clung to her as she wandered down the hall in the darkness, wondering vaguely why someone would be knocking on the door at...what time was it, exactly? She squinted as she passed the kitchen, just making out the time displayed on the microwave. It was one in the morning. The thought chased some of the cobwebs away, and her newly active mind began to think of plans of revenge for whoever it was that dragged her out of her sleep.
She finally flipped on the light switch as she reached the apartment door, her eyes involuntarily squeezing tightly shut at the sudden brightness. She blinked a few times and let them adjust before leaning in toward the eyehole, trying to see who was tormenting her from the hallway. Between her tired eyes and the poorly installed peep hole, all she could see were the blurry upper torsos of two people crowded rather closely toward the door. Her hand came up and rubbed at her eyes, hoping to clear up the scene a little, but not having much success. “Who is it?” she finally asked as she straightened up, the words coming out as a rasp. Her hand hovered over the deadbolt as she waited for a response.
“Lana? Please, let us in,” said the person on the other side. The voice seemed oddly familiar, although her still half-asleep brain was having trouble putting a face with the voice.
“But who ARE you?” she asked. There was a pause on the other side, and Lana leaved over looked through the eyehole again. Now the person on the other side had taken a step away from the door, causing her whole form to come into focus. Lana’s eyes went wide all of a sudden as she remembered who this woman was.
“It’s Lois Lane. Lana, please, you have to let me in. Clark’s in trouble.”
Lana snorted and took a step away from the door. All the haze of sleep was instantly gone as anger began to course through her entire being. Lois Lane, yes, the reporter at the campus paper. She was the one who had driven the final wedge between Lana and Clark, the woman who had encouraged him to become that...that...superhero. Because of this Lane woman, Clark was now exploiting himself to the news media, flaunting his powers to anyone who could see. She didn’t even recognize him anymore, thanks to Lane. And now she had the gall to come here and tell some tale about Clark being in trouble? “Clark can take care of himself,” Lana said, taking one more step back.
“No, he can’t,” answered the Lane woman. Lana shook her head, incredulous. “Please, open the door. I don’t want to talk about this in the hallway,” Lois continued.
Lana looked at the door, took one step toward her room, then stopped herself. If she ignored Lois and this other person, they would just keep pestering her. On the other hand, this gave her a golden opportunity to give Lois a piece of her mind, something she’d wanted to do since that night in the restaurant, and then tell her to leave in no uncertain terms. Impulsively, she reached out and undid the deadbolt, then slid the chain off and cracked open the door. The light from the hallway had no sooner cast its pale glow across the carpeting before there was a sudden burst of pressure against the door, and Lana was stumbling backward, relinquishing her grasp. The door instantly swung all the way open without any resistance, banging loudly against the wall and then hanging loosely on its hinges. Staggering into the apartment in the wake was Lois Lane, with a strange young man closely behind. Lana regained her balance and lunged back, grabbing hold of the door and trying to force it closed, but the two were already too far inside. After a moment, she stopped, knowing it was a lost cause. What had been harmless anger before had morphed into full-blown rage, and the room seemed tinted red as she locked eyes with the intruders.
“Just what do you think you’re doing? And why are you here?” Lana asked through clenched teeth. This Lane woman was dressed up like a cat burglar, with black pants and a black shirt, and her hair gathered back into a ponytail. Lana half expected her to take out a burlap sack and start loading up the knick knacks and electronics. The man next to her was clad in a tight white t-shirt, showing off a rather impressive chest and shoulder region. His jaw was clenched shut defiantly, although his eyes seemed drawn toward Lana’s newly dyed hair.
“I told you, Clark’s in trouble. We need your help,” Lois said, her face straight, even though it had to be a joke.
Lana moved infinitesimally toward the phone, mentally reviewing which speed dial button would connect her with the Metropolis Police Department. She didn’t know what Lois was planning to do, what her real motivation for being there that night was, but the fact was that she was standing in her living room, dressed like a criminal, and it couldn’t be because she was wanting to sell her magazine subscriptions. The two of them, Lois and the hired muscle, were up to something, possibly involving abduction, certainly involving humiliation, and Lana would not give them the satisfaction of succeeding. There was nothing Lois could say that would sway Lana, and if the block of muscle next so much as tried to lay a hand on her, well, the scream will be heard in the next borough. “And I told you, Clark can take care of himself,” Lana answered.
“Not this time,” Lois said. “Something happened tonight, at the Planet.”
Lana held out her hands and shrugged, playing along, biding her time. The fact that Lois mentioned the Planet, presumably the Daily Planet, almost made her want to snicker. Of course Clark would be at the Daily Planet – he had always fantasized about working there, hadn’t he? Nice try.
“What, do you live in a cave?” Lois mumbled, the words barely intelligible.
“Excuse me?” Lana said, taking a step toward Lois, barely resisting the urge to reach out and grab that black shirt, knowing that the man would probably wrench her away and inflict pain at the first contact.
“There was a bomb blast tonight at the Daily Planet. Surely you heard about it,” Lois said, one eyebrow arching.
“A buh.... What?” Lana said, suddenly not so sure that this was a set-up. It was pretty hard to fake a bomb blast, especially in Metropolis. Of course, she hadn’t heard of it, but she’d also gone to bed early and actively tried to avoid most news reports since the christening of Superman.
“Not a buh, a bomb,” the man chimed in, one finger in the air. Lois snorted and smiled tightly, turning toward him and giving him some look or another before turning back toward Lana again, her lips pulled tightly, apparently trying to resist the urge to laugh. This did not endear either of them to Lana.
“There was an explosion this evening at the Daily Planet. Clark went there to help. Do you understand?” Lois asked, and Lana nodded cautiously while walking over to the television and turning it on. There, on the screen, was a scene of devastation where the Daily Planet had been the day before. Lois was telling the truth, then. Clark, the big, pompous superhero had responded, and he had gotten his comeuppance. “Something happened,” Lois continued. “Clark was kidnapped. We followed the kidnappers to where they took him, and we need your help to get him back.”
Lana nodded, then realized that they were talking about Clark in superhero terms in front of this strange, albeit strangely familiar, man. If he wasn’t hired muscle for some sort of prank, then Lana couldn’t even fathom why he was there or what he knew about the situation. But it occurred to her that he probably had something to do with it. “But how could anyone kidnap Clark? And who is HE?” she asked, pointing to the man.
“This is Kevin, and he and Clark work together,” Lois said slowly, both eyebrows now arched, apparently waiting for Lana to get her cryptic clue. Okay, they work together. But how? Clark didn’t have a job a couple of weeks ago. And he couldn’t have gotten one since, because he seemed to spend all his time flying around with....
Lana’s eyes got wide as she stared at the man once again. “Oh, my God. You’re...you’re....” she pointed at him again, stammering, then dropped her arm and stared daggers at him.
“Bolt,” Lois continued with a nod. “And he saw Clark become incapacitated by a green rock.
Lana gaped at Lois. A green rock? Who gets hurt by a green rock, unless it’s somehow bashed over their head? That was the cheesiest thing she’d ever heard, and suddenly the feeling was back that this was somehow all a hoax. But as she looked at the man who purported to be Bolt, she realized that she could see the resemblance. It was vague, yes, especially since he was out of costume, and she probably wouldn’t have noticed it if they hadn’t told her. But the mouth was the same, and so was the way he carried himself. Her eyes narrowed as she realized once and for all that he was finally within her grasp, the man that she had wanted to vent to for about two weeks now. “I have a bone to pick with you, mister,” she said to him, fully expecting to launch into a rant, but before she could say another word, she was being interrupted.
“Save it for some other time,” Lois said, folding her arms across her chest. “Every minute we stand here arguing is one we could be spending rescuing Clark.”
That was possibly the first time that Lana could remember being cut off before she ever got a chance to say a word. Her narrowed eyes shifted toward Lois, who appeared to be awfully smug for someone who was trying to coerce Lana’s help. Not only had this woman who lead the exploitation of Clark Kent barged into her apartment, she was accompanied by the man who started the whole Superhero craze, and she was presuming to give orders. For that alone Lana should go tell them both to take a long walk off a short pier.
“He’s a big shot hero. Why can’t he go rescue Clark?” Lana said, nodding toward Bolt.
“Because that stuff affects me, too,” Bolt, or Kevin, or whatever he called himself, said.
“What if I said that I didn’t believe you?” Lana asked, the combativeness that she had been carefully controlling now creeping into her voice.
Lois moved forward, stopping mere inches from Lana, her eyes burning. “You can go to town testing how completely vulnerable and un-super he is, or we can do something to save Clark. It’s entirely up to you. But please, if you ever cared for him at all, then come with us. If not, we’ll leave you alone forever and get someone else to help, someone who may not be familiar with who and what he is, at least not until we tell them on the way.”
Steady puffs of hot breath licked at Lana’s face as their eyes locked together. Beneath all the consternation and harsh words, Lois was silently pleading with her. It was hard to tell what to make of the situation, although Lana had no doubt that Lois would follow through on her words, that she would drag some complete stranger into the equation to help with the rescue and tell him everything about Clark, whether to be spiteful or just to explain his attire. A part of her said that maybe that’s what Clark got for becoming Superman, but somewhere deep down inside was a spark of that old protectiveness, and of the feelings that she held for him once upon a time.
Moments dragged into minutes as neither Lois nor Lana said anything. Finally, Lois pulled away, her eye contact breaking so rapidly that Lana had to blink to reorient herself with her new view. “Let’s go. This was obviously a waste of time,” Lois said, gesturing toward Bolt and heading toward the door.
“Wait,” Lana said, spinning around, halting Lois as her hand landed on the doorknob. “Is he really hurt somewhere? I mean, this isn’t a hoax of some sort, is it?” she asked weakly. But she needed to hear the truth, presented as plainly and straightforward as possible.
Bolt approached her, and for the first time, she noticed the grime standing out against his white shirt. Most of it, the dust and the smudges and occasional drop of blood, was laid out in a regular pattern, as if filtered through a porous fabric, like a hockey jersey. Yes, he was who he said he was. But there were fresh bruises on his arms, small scratches on his hands, the types of marks that could only be found on someone lacking the invulnerability that Bolt possessed. “Yes, he is. And we’re asking you to trust us on this, but believe me when I say that we sincerely need you. Clark needs you.” His hand cupped the terrycloth robe draped over her shoulder, the gesture comforting. His eyes were soft, honest. You just didn’t see honestly like that around Metropolis.
“Okay,” she said without realizing it, the spell she was under magically fading away as he removed his hand. She stared at him for a moment in surprise, then glanced at Lois before shuffling to her room to change. Clark might be willful, Clark might be alien, but that didn’t mean the she ever wanted to see him experience all the things that she had always known he’d experience if anyone ever found out about him. Nobody deserved that. But she would be sure to let him know how he could avoid situations like that in the future. And, boy, would he owe her big.
-/-\-
The great confrontation now over with and their interim mission accomplished, Kevin found himself back in the front seat of Lois’s car, the cityscape rapidly passing by the windows as they raced toward Clark. He knew he should be thinking strategy, he knew he should be mentally practicing the self defense moves he’d learned at stadium usher training, but he found himself distracted. Green hair. Lois had said that this Lana person had once been Clark’s girlfriend, and that she was a little on the weird side when it came to fashion. Kevin had envisioned many things at that statement, mostly containing various combinations of polyester clothing, but green hair had never even entered into his mind. People just didn’t do that where he was from. And Clark, a Kansas native and seemingly conservative person, had dated her. Kevin had always envisioned him as having better taste than that.
Kevin still hadn’t seen enough of the big city to determine if something like green hair was the norm in a place like this. Somehow, though, he imagined that people didn’t generally look twice when someone like her walked down the street. He had taken a tour of duty through the inner cities, he had been through a place that resembled a war zone, he had hobnobbed with the elite in the city, and he still couldn’t figure this place out, couldn’t get a grasp on it. Just when he thought he had, someone would come with a glowing rock and try to abduct him, or he’d get a glimpse of something that was truly strange, at least by normal standards, and be told that there was nothing strange about it. It all made him want to leave Metropolis as quickly as possible and go back to his corner of the world, where a cigar was still a cigar and people still made sense. But home was a very, very long way from this place, especially for a normal, earthbound human being with all of six dollars in his wallet. Just the thought of what was next, what happened after they got Clark safely away from the firemen, was scary. Could he call home and bum some money off of his parents? If he did, what would he tell them he was in Metropolis for?
Kevin sighed, his eyes turning skyward, toward the orange-tinted darkness above the buildings. There were no stars visible from the middle of the city. If he rolled down the windows and stilled, there would be no soft chirping of crickets, no hums of the locusts, probably only the sounds of traffic and humanity. From high above, though, he was sure that the stars would begin to stand out as the brightness of the city was left far below. Up there, there would be no sounds except for the wind rushing against him, his loose clothing fluttering gently in the breeze. As he leaned his head against the window and blinked at the passing streetlights, he realized that he missed it already. The flying, the freedom, the way his senses could reach out and let him experience the world even from high above. The thought of a lifetime without it was downright depressing. With the powers, he was a complete person. Without them, he just didn’t know who he was anymore, ironic for someone who would be giving up having dual identities.
“Okay, gang, let’s go over the plan,” Lois said, drawing his eyes away from the heavens. His head still leaned against the glass as he diverted his gaze toward Lois. They had stopped at her apartment before picking up Lana, mostly because she needed to locate the ex-girlfriend’s address, but they had used the occasion to gather some things together. Lois had quickly rooted through her closets, tossing items onto the carpet, gesturing for Kevin to gather them together. He didn’t need to ask what most of them were for, because most only really had one possible use on a night like tonight. She had changed while he had lugged the items down to her car, unceremoniously dumping them into the trunk.
“Oh, you do have a plan, then,” Lana said from the bask seat, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Kevin caught Lois’s eyes narrowing, and a small smile crept onto his face as he watched the interplay between the past and present girlfriends of the second most famous superhero in America.
Lois continued without responding to the jab. “The first thing we need to do is get rid of the green rock, because those men have nothing to subdue either Clark or Kevin without it. But since Kevin can’t go near that stuff, it’s up to us girls to take care of it.”
Kevin sat up in his seat. “What do you plan to do with it? Is that what the safe is for?” he asked.
Lois nodded. “I figure that it could be affecting you in one of two ways. It’s either giving off some sort of noxious fumes or radiation. Whatever it is, it didn’t seem to affect the firemen, and that means only you guys respond to it. So I brought a ziplock bag and my lead-lined fireproof safe that we can put it into.”
“So, what, they’re just going to give it to us, then?” Lana asked, causing Lois to emit a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a hiss.
“No, see, this is where the plan comes in,” Lois responded, her tone that of an adult speaking to a small child. Kevin perked up a little more as the war of words seemed to pick up. He didn’t know whether to be entertained, worried, or both. Either way, Lois made no attempt to look toward the back seat as she continued, her eyes moving between the road and Kevin, seemingly talking to him alone. “What we need to do is draw the men away from Clark in the rock. You’re going to need to create a distraction outside and then take care of them while we do our jobs.”
“What kind of distraction?” Kevin asked. Lois’s smile was mischievous, and suddenly it was very clear to him what Clark saw in this woman.
“The neighborhood doesn’t look like the safest one in Metropolis, at least judging by the bars on the window. We scope the building for security devices or cameras, then wave at them while bashing in the windows of their truck with the aluminum bat in the trunk.” Lois raised her eyebrows and met his eyes with her own, and he couldn’t help but smile in response. Even if he was a superhero in his past life and dedicated himself to serving and protecting and upholding truth and justice and all that stuff, a little bit of mischief for a good cause was something that he could definitely do with some gusto.
In the back seat, Lana scoffed audibly. “Vandalism?” she said. “Do we have to resort to that?”
“It’ll definitely draw them out,” Kevin answered with a nod. “I don’t know what else we can do without getting overly elaborate.”
“Won’t it just make them mad?” Lana asked, and Kevin had to admit she had a point. But the simple fact that they were trying to take Clark back to begin with would make them mad.
“They’re already mad,” Lois muttered, then flexed her hands on the steering wheel before continuing in a normal voice. “Anyway, while he’s wrecking their car, Lana and I will position ourselves at the doors so we can take them out as they exit the building to stop him. If they don’t want to come out right away, we go in.” Lois reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out what looked like a nail file. She was going to pick the lock, Kevin thought, giving Lois an appreciative nod. “I’ve got plenty of rope to tie them up with, too. Once they’re all subdued, we get the rock, root around for something incriminating, call the cops, and get out of there before anyone asks any questions.”
“Something incriminating?” Lana asked, the smugness now gone. “We’re sneaking Clark out of there so that nobody knows that he was ever there to begin with. As far as the world knows, Superman wasn’t kidnapped, so you can’t exactly go with the obvious.”
“No, we can’t,” Lois answered matter-of-factly. “But chances are that this isn’t the first thing they’ve done outside the law. The criminal mastermind hardly starts with kidnapping a superhero. So we see what we can find, talk to our hosts if we have to, but believe me, I don’t intend to let these guys get off.”
“What if they have weapons?” Kevin asked, trying to block out the mental image of a gun being pointed at Lois. That would certainly put a crimp in things, although he doubted in would stop her in her mission.
Lois shrugged in response. Any hint of a smile fell from her face, and a shadow seemed to come across her eyes. He had caught a glimpse of her humorous side, had seen her focused, angry, and driven. But now she was something else, her intensity almost scary. “We either get Clark out of there, or we don’t get him back at all,” she said, her voice soft yet forceful, the words full of fierce conviction. “If we fail, God only knows what they’ll do to him, and even if I have to stare down the barrel of a gun, I’m not going to leave without him. If they have weapons, then they have weapons, but we have the power of conviction on our side, and the knowledge that we’re doing what is right. This may be a world where sometimes the bad guy wins, but not tonight, not if I can help it.”
The whole car grew quiet, nobody really needing to say anything after such a statement. Even Lana, the green-haired and possibly green-eyed ex-girlfriend, wouldn’t dare say anything negative in response. Kevin was relatively certain that Lois would wrench Clark away from the bad guys or die trying, either conviction or love or both driving her to that mindset. It was humbling to think that there were people out there still willing to do something like that. Would he be willing to go that far? He didn’t know, but he supposed, when the time came, he would find out.
The rest of the ride passed in silence, Kevin’s eyes firmly focused on the road ahead, his thoughts now far away from the sky and the stars and the sweet simplicity of life in middle America. Issues of identity and of abilities lost were also a distant memory, and there was only pure conviction now. They would get Clark out of there, no matter what, and they would do it because none of them in the car, not even the bristly ex, were willing to give up on their friend. By the end of the night, this would be a car full of heroes.
-/-\-
Ted chomped on his cigar as he leaned against the large round table. Closing his eyes, he took a long, deep breath, savoring the rich aroma of the smoke before slowly, deliberately exhaling. As he opened his eyes, his gaze landed on their visitor, slouched into one of the nearby chairs, his form now clouded in a smoky haze, his face bathed in the sickly green glow of the meteorite. The man’s skin had grown extremely pale since arriving almost an hour earlier, his ashen complexion now ironically the same hue as was generally used to describe aliens by the uninformed masses of the world. If only they knew, Ted thought with a smile, propping himself up and sauntering slowly toward the man who had referred to himself as Superman.
The mission that night had been accomplished with stunning and very pleasing results. The Daily Planet, champion of the aliens, had been their intended target, the blast gutting the building and, with it, the newspaper and all its self-righteous arrogance. Several reporters had fallen victim to the bomb, some of which were prominent in covering the so-called heroes, although others were mere sacrifices to the cause. Of course, the aliens had arrived immediately, both working in concert to try and undo what had been done so effectively, the sheep-like masses looking on in adoration the whole time. Blending into the crowd of paramedics and firefighters, all left with almost nothing to do, all with their eyes seemingly affixed to the sky, had been amazingly easy. And when the time had come to enter the ruined husk of the building and subdue the invaders, the rock had worked just as predicted. Unfortunately, one of the pair was able to escape, but none of them had been concerned. The one who escaped had been injured, and he wouldn’t be able to get very far. Either the teeming masses who adored him so much would stop him from leaving the scene, or he would hide somewhere until the he was able to escape safely without notice. In either case, he wouldn’t be able to stop them from carting away the other one, and from doing with him whatever they pleased. So far, that had amounted to mere observation, but the time would come, and soon, that it would be so much more than that.
This so-called Superman had been anything but as he conveniently passed out immediately upon being exposed to the poisonous rock, staying unconscious while in its presence. The pallor of his skin had gradually turned more and more sickly, his breathing growing shallow, a thin layer of sweat forming over his whole body, all while bathed in the green glow, all while under Ted’s watchful eye. He was dying, slowly but surely, the rock taking his life away from him in a way that was truly impressive to behold. One of the most powerful men in the world was now at the mercy of a mere mortal, his strength reduced to a distant memory, his life very much on the line. With a few more minutes of exposure, Superman would only ever be mentioned in the past tense, his legacy nothing but a few headlines, spectacular but quickly forgotten. That wouldn’t necessarily be an unacceptable conclusion to the operation, Ted supposed, but he had hoped that they would at least be able to talk to him first. How many more were there? What were his ultimate plans? Seeing this man awake and aware of what was happening, the terror in his eyes as he realized that he no longer controlled his own fate, that would truly be worth all the work.
Ted leaned over and picked up the green rock, examining it, thinking. “Ron,” he said, his eyes never leaving the green crystal in his hand. It looked for all the world like some sort of movie prop, the perfect facets a rich, clear green. But it wasn’t a prop, it wasn’t some piece of carnival glass or some perfectly formed emerald. Careful analysis had shown this rock came from somewhere else, some other planet that possessed minerals and elements completely different from those found on Earth. Most objects that descended from the heavens, ones that had withstood the barrage of debris in deep space and the friction of reentry, had the smooth, oblong shape of a potato. Not this remarkable mineral. He could imagine the flames licking at the squared off edges as it hurtled through the stratosphere, mother nature trying its best to beat it into conformity, but the crystal staunchly refusing. In his mind’s eye, he could also see a small metallic ship hurtling through space behind the crystal, the same ship that occupied a shelf above the filing cabinets, the symbol on its front the same as that on the shirt this Superman now wore.
“Yes, sir?” a voice said, drawing Ted’s eyes away from the rock. In front of him was one of the men, one they had recruited from the ranks of the Metropolis Police Department for just such a mission as tonight. Ted smiled, placing the rock into his pocket. Away from the effects of the radiation, the alien would gradually come back to consciousness, weakened but aware. And he would be greeted with the most delicious type of horror, with pain, and with the cold feeling of steel on flesh.
“I think it’s time that we commence our physical examination of the specimen. It’s obvious that he won’t be saying anything for quite some time.”
The other man nodded, a half smile working its way onto his face. Without a word, he turned on his heel, heading toward one of the cabinets to retrieve the necessary supplies.
Ted turned back toward their guest, then walked slowly behind him, taking another long drag from his cigar. He came to a stop after completing the circle and leaned in, putting his hand on the man’s forehead and gently tilting his head backward. Even up close, all the facial features were that of a man. The feel of his skin, although now somewhat clammy, was no different than that of a human. Ted’s hand disengaged from the hero’s face, and he reached down and grasped one of the hands lying limply in the man’s lap. There were five fingers, jointed normally, each with a neatly cut fingernail. On the reverse side, the skin was contoured in lines and swirls, making a distinctive fingerprint pattern; unique, no doubt, but not readily discernable as being from someone not of Earth. This alien could probably blend in with any crowd, probably lived in a normal city somewhere, his neighbors totally unaware of his true nature.
A tray of instruments was now being set on the table, their cold, polished steel reflecting the dull light from the single bulb clinging to the ceiling above. Ted dropped the hand and reached for a large, empty syringe that lay prominently on the tray. He regarded it for a moment, then turned, intending to jab it into the crook of the alien’s arm and draw a blood sample, but his action was halted by a loud crashing sound from outside.
Ted muttered an expletive as he looked toward the wall on the room, taking the cigar from his mouth and clutching it absently in his hand. Instantly, the other two members of the team were by his side, the group all staring intently toward the same location. Another loud sound came, this time the dull thwack of metal on metal.
“Some bastard neighborhood kid, I bet,” one of the men muttered, shaking his head.
“Take care of it,” Ted said, the impatience clear in his voice. “We don’t need this kind of interruption.”
The man nodded once, then stalked toward the side door, grabbing his firemen’s axe as he exited. Ted turned back toward his specimen, confident that there would be no further interruptions, but again stopped, this time at the sound of a yelp and the clatter of metal on concrete. The remaining two men looked at each other, then rushed toward the door, each grabbing a blunt object on his way out.
Ted debated returning to his work, but when the men didn’t immediately return, he deposited his cigar in an oversized ashtray and sauntered over toward another filing cabinet, opening the top drawer slowly and drawing out the handgun from inside. When they had first moved into this office, the riffraff of the neighborhood had been a problem, always harassing the men as they came to work, always vandalizing personal property and the office itself. The doors were thick enough that nobody had been able to break in, thankfully, but Ted had decided back then not to take his chances. As soon as he started brandishing a weapon and making it clear to the neighborhood punks that he wasn’t afraid to use it, they had been left alone, at least until now. It seemed as if it were time for some reeducation. He slid open the chamber of the gun, confirming that there was a bullet present, then unlocked the safety and walked slowly toward the door.
The dark shadows concealed the landscape of the alley. Memory told him where the dumpster was, where the walls jutted out unexpectedly, and where the concrete pavement had popped out and formed ankle-twisting potholes. Beyond the alley, the streetlights cast an orange glow on the street, and as he angled away from the building, Ted could clearly see the truck they arrived in, now missing a window, craters formed in several placed along the metal exterior. Standing next to the automobile, proudly admiring his work, was a punk kid with a baseball bat slung over his shoulder. Calmly, Ted raised the gun, squeezing shut one eye as he looked down the barrel, setting his aim. As his finger tensed over the trigger, there was movement from the darkness beside him.
The shot was deafening, the vandal on the street falling to the ground with a grunt, the bat clattering out of his hands and onto the ground. At the same time, Ted found himself stumbling sideways, the gun knocked from his hand. Someone had struck him in the upper body, and as he recovered his wits, another blow came, this one taking out his legs. As he fell, he had just enough time to remember the door behind him, the one that even now stood wide open, revealing his prize specimen to the unwanted guests. But his thoughts ceased as his head struck the pavement, his whole world falling into blackness.
