by David Beem
“Oh my God, you guys, it’s like Narnia!” says Anna.
“I have come home at last,” quotes Fabio. “This is my real country, I belong here.”
“The Last Battle,” says Anna. “Nice one.”
“Check it out.” Mary points. “Bird feeder. Did you pack that book?”
I smile and nod. “And the binoculars. And the seed.”
“Oh, good.”
She pops the trunk, and we pile out of the car, Wendy tearing up toward the cabin. The air is brisk, and we’re all zipping fleeces up to our necks. Tomorrow’s supposed to be warmer. Inside, the wood-burning stove is blazing, and the fire mixes with the cabin’s woody scent. A balcony bisects the room, and it’s got incredible carvings in it, framed by vertical beams into squares and rectangles of varying sizes.
“Upstairs or downstairs?” asks Anna. Mary looks at me, and I shrug.
“We’ll sleep upstairs if you guys don’t want it,” says Mary.
“You guys, this place is amazing!” Anna hops once in place and then throws her arms around Fabio. Wendy wags her tail and barks. “Yes, it’s great. Take the upstairs. Who cares?” She grabs Fabio’s cheeks and plants a big kiss on him. Mary’s phone buzzes.
She pulls it out of her back pocket, checks the screen. “Henrietta.”
I chuckle and shrug.
“Hi, Henrietta,” she says, and takes the call outside.
“Life in the fast line, my friend.” Fabio sets his bags down, hops onto the sofa, and puts his feet up. Wendy rounds the coffee table and leaps up next to him. Fabio scratches behind her ear.
“You sure you’re okay with being store manager?” I ask, settling into the armchair across from him. He waves the question away as Anna drapes herself across his lap and starts loving on the dog.
“Oh my God,” she says. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Mary comes back inside and tucks her phone into her back pocket.
“What’s Henrietta saying?” I ask.
She smirks. “Forbes is doing a piece called 2020’s Greatest Power Couples.”
Fabio bops Anna’s nose. “They should do one called Greatest Superpower Couples.”
Mary smiles. “She wanted to get it scheduled. I told her not before the end of the month.”
“See?” says Fabio. “To the victor go the spoils—but also the toils. You may have inherited the InstaTron empire, Mr. and Mrs. InstaTron,” he bows his head mockingly at us, “but you have also inherited a world of headaches.”
“They also inherited a lot of money.” Anna lowers her eyebrows at Fabio.
“True,” he replies. “But between you and me, we’ve got more than enough. And the worst headaches I’ve got are making sure Wang and Shmuel don’t burn down the store while I’m gone.”
“No small task,” I interject.
“Yeah, well, you get to make sure you keep all the stockholders happy. So good luck with that.”
Mary parks it on the arm of my chair, and I slide my hand around her waist. “Did you talk to your gran?” she asks.
“Yeah, she’s having a great time. Why?”
“Just something Dad said. Guess she doesn’t like vegemite.”
I laugh. “Well, she won’t be the first Yank to take one for the team. Mom says Shep’s behaving. I think our two families are gonna bring worlds together.”
Wendy leaps down from the sofa, snarls, and barks.
Fists bang on the door, and Mary’s off me so fast, it’s like she wormholed from point A to point B. Her hand searches the small of her back for the gun that isn’t there.
“Guys,” I say, raising my voice over Wendy. “We’re superheroes.”
“Who knows we’re here?” asks Mary.
The door bangs again. Anna and Fabio are on their feet too. Jeez, everybody’s so jumpy.
“Come on, guys. Relax.” Fabio and Anna hug Wendy back as I answer the door, and an old woman with deep lines in her forehead and cheeks scowls at me from our front deck.
“Yer gonna burner down, Edge,” she says, and my pulse kicks into high gear. She shoves past me into the cabin, Wendy still barking like mad, and sweeps her gaze across the others, then refocuses her ire on me. “Yer gonna burn it all down.”
My forehead tenses. I peer hard into her eyes. “Mikey? Is that you?”
Wendy stops barking, and the room falls silent except for the crackling fire. Through our shared connections, I can feel the others slamming a wall around our four consciousnesses.
Watch yourself, buddy! says Fabio.
She came alone, says Anna. There’s no one outside.
Mary silently prepares a telekinetic choking move, and I raise a steadying hand her way.
“Who the hell is Mikey?” asks the old woman. “Ye said ye’d be here by seven. I started the fire for ye. Yer late.”
Wendy bounds forward and licks the old woman’s hand, and she leans over and strokes Wendy’s ears and scruff. The pressure of the room goes from DEFCON Holy Crap to DEFCON Ha-Ha Punked You.
“You must be Saoirse.” Mary brushes past me and extends her hand.
“My, now yer a pretty lass, aren’tcha?” They shake, and the old woman’s features soften.
“How did you know to call him Edge?” asks Fabio.
“Well, he put it on his reservation now, dinni he?”
Comprehension blooms from behind Fabio’s eyes, and he’s next in for the handshake. “Fabio.”
Saoirse’s eyes narrow skeptically, and despite Fabio being my best friend, I can’t help but picture all the shirtless Fabios on Scottish romance novel covers. Not that Saoirse would necessarily be an expert on all that, but still.
“This place’s been in me family fer years,” she says, after remaining introductions have been made. “It honors the dead to keep it right.”
“We’ll do our best,” I tell her.
That night, when we’re done with the stars and the air turns too cold for hot grogs on the deck, the four of us gather by the wood-burning stove. Mary’s cute nose and cheeks are red when she peers over her mug at me, her legs crossed on the thick carpet. I take a spot next to her and nuzzle in. Fabio and Anna curl up on the other side with their mugs. The firelight casts otherworldly shadows, and it’s easy to feel ancient spirits watching over us. Easy to feel the mystery of eternity or something, I don’t know.
I close my eyes and feel my way into the netherworld. When we hatched this plan, everyone agreed it should be me to go first. Doing it on vacation felt right. It’s our time, that’s true, but we’re not normal people anymore. We’re the Überpeople, I guess Mikey would’ve said.
I find Caleb. He’s sleeping in LA.
Cancer, he says, and a wave of awe pulses through us.
Which cancer? I ask.
All cancer, bro.
I take a deep breath and, drawing on his, Fabio’s, Anna’s, and Mary’s strength, I find a doctor in Chicago. His name isn’t important, but his mind is. He wakes up in a cold sweat and flicks on the light. His wife rolls to her side. His excitement is incredible. His good will, his earnest desire to help people he’s never met. And because the dead know a cure, now he does too.
I open my eyes, and my friends are shedding tears. Shit, I am too. It’s been so hard, getting to this point. Such a Herculean achievement. But it’s not my achievement any more than the last person in a relay race can claim the win alone. Tomorrow, we’ll hike through the glen to the castle. And that place had its generation to carry the torch too. I’m hoping we’ll glimpse them, using our powers. We can do that now. See them like they’re here, with us. Because they are.
“Edge,” says Fabio. “It’s my turn. Come on, dude.”
“Lou Gehrig’s,” I say.
I choke down the lump in my throat. Mary pushes her wet cheek into my neck. We close our eyes, and Fabio’s consciousness expands through us.
We find a doctor in Lisbon…
* * *
[1] Many will try to round it up to ten before conceding
that nine really does flow better.
[2] There were not.
[3] Of the 102 people aboard, there were indeed three Bootys: Thomas “Bubble” Booty, Richard “Dick” Booty, and Harold “Harry” Booty. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry on that boat was named Booty.
[4] Which becomes a total of sixty-eight ball busts at two nuts per sacked sack.
[5] It’s true. Our doctors licked snot to determine the composition and balance of bodily fluids. What’s more, our best doctor, Soranus of Ephesus, used to advise people to squat and sneeze after intercourse to avoid getting preggers.
[6] A fictitious hybrid animal proposed by young-Earth creationists as evidence against evolution. While the crocoduck doesn’t exist, the crocoplatypus does. Its diet consists mainly of birds, frogs, rats, and stupid people.
[7] Predictably, in the captain’s booty.
[8] For this is an Australian sign merely posing as a Californian sign.
[9] For this Juilliard-trained sign prefers method acting and never breaks character.
[10] But this is only a self-serving gag meant to amuse Nostradamus, since he’s the chucklehead who installed “The Mexican Hat Dance” horn in the sombrero car in the first place.
[11] Because not even Joaquin Phoenix could hold character on this place and on this night.
[12] But in full disclosure, it could have something to do with the one-gallon bottle of Mango Xtremo Gatorade he had earlier. Not tough enough? Tony Hawk drinks Gatorade: What’s Your Excuse?
[13] The “Full Clinton” constitutes units of fifty.