Devious Origins

by Thad Phetteplace

CHAPTER 19

  The next few days passed in a blur of academic normality. It was something of a relief, actually. I was not accosted by drug dealers or corporate thugs. My mind was not occupied with local government corruption or mysterious global conspiracies. I dug into my backlog of homework and quickly found myself happily buried in matters more mundane.

  That changed when the weekend arrived. Unsurprisingly, it started with a Friday afternoon call from Dee.

  “Hey Barry, dust off the suit. We’ve got a mission.”

  “I’m actually in the middle of something at the moment.” I looked at circuit diagram of my current project and realized I would actually welcome a break from it.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t mean now. How does tomorrow look for you? Feel like a road trip?”

  “Sure… I guess… um where?”

  “Just a couple of hours north. Wear comfy traveling clothes, but bring your suit… maybe an extra casual outfit too. I’ll pick you up in the Quad around 9AM tomorrow.”

  “Sure I can do that, but what exactly are…”

  She cut me off and said, “Sorry, gotta run… talk to you tomorrow,” then hung up. A stared at the phone for a few more seconds before finally setting it down and returning to my circuit diagram.

  I'd spent the last few days catching up on my homework, patching a few bugs in the geo-locater app, and even spending another night on patrol with Tilly's neighborhood watch... which was thankfully much less eventful than my first attempt. Having caught up in areas both academic and altruistic, I was now working on a personal project, something for Dee actually. I thought briefly about trying to finish in time to show it to her tomorrow, but even if I had all the parts, It would take an all-nighter. I reluctantly set it aside and instead grabbed a late dinner from the cafeteria, then came home and read through my Theory of Computing notes before crashing for the night.

  Dee showed up ten minutes after 9AM. She called to me from the passenger seat of Homeless Joe's truck.

  “Barry, jump in, we have to get moving.” She slid to the middle, making room for me. It was a bit cramped since she had to angle her legs to avoid the stick shift.

  “Hi Joe,” I greeted our driver. He just nodded at me in reply. “So, um, a two hour road trip...” I said, letting a my unfinished sentence become a question.

  “Yeah, don't worry, it won't all be this cramped,” Dee replied, “Joe's just taking us as far as the train station. I was going to take us on Martin, but I only just got him put back together, and I didn't want to leave him chained at the train station overnight.

  “Overnight?” I responded, the surprise evident in my voice.

  “Yeah the train to and from Evensville runs only twice a day, and we'll have missed the last return train by the time we finish there. Don't worry, we've got a place to stay lined up. Here, I thought you might need this.” She handed me a travel toothbrush still in its plastic retail packaging. It was orange and white, and the brush part could be folded neatly into the handle. I stared at it mutely for several long seconds before dropping it in my backpack.

  “So what's in Evensville?” I finally asked.

  “Professor Simonson,” Dee answered, “she teaches at the Evensville Community College. I've lined up a meeting with her. We need to hear her side of the story from her own lips.”

  “OK,” was all I said. I considered mentioning that she could have told me all this yesterday, but for some reason I held back.

  The trip to the intra-city train station did not take long, giving us little time for further conversation. Dee and Joe made smalltalk. It was the most I had heard Joe speak since I met him. His usually guarded behavior was noticeably lessened when dealing with Dee.

  Our train was already boarding when we arrived, but Dee already had our tickets, so all was good. We thanked Joe, grabbed our respective backpacks, and climbed aboard. The train was at best half full, so we easily found an empty pair of seats.

  “Ahhh, leg room, how I've missed you,” Dee exclaimed as she stretched out in the over padded seat.”

  “Yeah, this isn't bad,” I said as I reclined the seat slightly, “not nearly as cramped as an airline seat at least.”

  “The trains in Europe are better. Faster. On time. Go more places. Still, I really love riding a train, no matter what country I'm in.”

  We chatted a while about trains, and she told me about trips she had taken when she was young, living in various countries around the world. I almost didn't notice when the train started moving.

  “I wasn't expecting this,” I said at one point, “you mentioned a road trip, so I was thinking we would literally be on the road, not the rails.”

  “Well that was the original plan,” she admitted, “and borrowing Joe's truck for the entire trip would have got us home sooner, but I didn't think that was fair to him. Besides, I couldn't pass up the excuse for a train ride.” She really did seem happy about it. “Here, have some breakfast.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a pair of breakfast bars, handing me one.

  “Thanks.” I tore into the bar without hesitation. I had woke up later than intended, leaving myself no time for breakfast at the cafeteria before meeting Dee.

  “If we were riding in a sleeper, we would get free breakfast in the dining car,” she said around bites of her own bar, “lunch and dinner too. Its one of the best parts of riding the train, the dining car. The food is way better than airline gruel, not five star mind you, but decent. The best part, though, is the conversations. They fill every table, so you get to meet new people, talk about why you are traveling. I've always loved that part.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a pair of apples. “If we weren't on a such tight budget, I would have totally sprung for the dining car.”

  “So, about that budget... how much does superheroing pay? Where should I submit my expense reports?” I was obviously joking, but I really was curious how she financed her activities.

  “So far, it mostly pays in leftover Vietnamese food,” she answered, “I'm basically surviving on the remains of my college fund. My dad gave me a chunk of money when I graduated high school. He didn't actually say I had to spend it all on college, but I think it was sort of understood. Mom's actually the one that gives me the most grief over it though. I suppose I'll have to get a second job at some point. Then at least maybe I can outfit the lair properly.”

  “And you could buy a car,” I suggested, “your very own batmobile for road-tripping in style.”

  Dee smiled. “Sure. With smoke screens and oil slicks and all sorts of James Bond goodies.”

  “Oh, of course,” I agreed, “and the ejector seat option... and it has to double as a submarine.”

  We both laughed, and the conversation devolved into a sort of game. We took turns describing what crazy gadgets we would invest in, how we might deck out the lair if we had unlimited funds. The minutes flew past, stretching into hours, and before we knew it we were pulling into the Evensville station. We joined the shambling mass of disembarking passengers, then found a quiet corner of the station lobby to discuss our next steps.

  “Well, the college isn't far from here,” Dee informed me, “I suggest we get changed in the station restrooms and then walk there. Meet you back here in five.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I replied, then shouldered my backpack and headed for the men's room. Once there, I used an unoccupied stall as a changing room, then checked myself in the bathroom mirror. The suit had suffered a few wrinkles while riding in my backpack but otherwise looked good. I emerged from the restroom and was surprised to find Dee waiting for me.

  It wasn't just that she had gotten back first... it was that she had accomplished such an amazing transformation in even less time. She wore the same glasses as her lawyer persona, and the rest of the outfit was similarly conservative, but the skirt and uncomfortable shoes had been traded in for a pantsuit and flats. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. She again
looked years older, but this time she looked less like a hotshot lawyer and more like a government bureaucrat.

  “You look amazing,” I told her as I approached.

  “You don't look so bad yourself,” she replied, “though I think it needs one more thing.” She tossed me a leather billfold. I flipped it open. One half displayed an official looking federal government ID for a Harold Gardner. The other half held a badge emblazoned with 'Department of Justice' and 'Special Agent'. The picture on the ID was my college yearbook head shot.

  I stared at it, trying to wrap my brain around what I was looking at. I looked up.

  Dee winked, and said, “OK, Agent Gardner... let's get to work.”