Fly Another Day

by Adam Graham

  A voiceover said, “The Robolawyers are closing in on Powerhouse and this unidentified costumed crime fighter. Will Seattle’s champion be destroyed by hundreds of these rampaging robotic legal aides? What will the city do? Stay tuned to news Channel Four for all the details.”

  Naomi scowled. “Carmela, I have to place a call to a certain gray super genius.”

  “Okay, call me back later.”

  Naomi hung up, marched into her bedroom, and dialed Zolgron’s cell phone.

  “Ello,” Zolgron answered with a sleepy yawn. He purred like a kitten getting his belly scratched. “The food is in the freezer.”

  “I’m not calling about the food, Zolgron. Where are you?”

  “At a Turkish bath in Turkey.”

  My husband’s fighting off robots and you’re lounging in a steam bath? “Get your butt out of Turkey before I cook your goose. Your wonderful Robolawyers are attacking.”

  Zolgron laughed. “So why did you really call?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Sorry, I thought you’d developed a sense of humor. It’d be impossible for Robolawyers to do that. Unless—” Zolgron coughed. “The Robolawyers’ design was adapted from robotic warriors that both sides used in the last great war before the era of champions like myself. I suppose they could have been reverse engineered.”

  “Ya think? Get back here now.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Powerhouse can handle them.”

  “I’m watching it on TV. He and some guy in a weird Batsuit have been backed up against a bunch of warehouses.”

  “I’ll be there momentarily.”

  “You’d better be.” She slapped her phone closed, slammed it in her pocket, and marched back into the living room. Rachel and her Rosie had muted the TV and bowed their heads in prayer.

  Guess there was nothing else to do. She knelt joined them in prayer.

  “Now?” Powerhouse asked Captain France as they hid behind the back door of the warehouse. Fifty Robolawyers had piled into the front.

  “Not quite, mon ami.”

  They waited for a few stragglers to find their way in. The Robolawyers advanced two hundred feet into the massive building with crates piled on top of each other.

  “Now!” Captain France shouted.

  Finally. Powerhouse took off at top speed toward the front door. In an instant, he was outside. Powerhouse eyed the street. Five or six Robolawyers patrolled this side of the building, but the police had cleared the area of cars and pedestrians.

  Powerhouse ran rings around the six Robolawyers at his fastest speed. They looked like movie villains stuck in slow-mo. Powerhouse grabbed one by its leg and swung it around at his top speed. Still running, he slammed Robolawyer One into its five companions.

  The force of his blows decapitated Robolawyers two, three, four, five, and six. He swung number one up into the air. It crash landed in pieces on the ground.

  He ran around to the other side of the warehouse.

  Twenty Robolawyers surrounded Captain France with four of them on the ground.

  “Where is Powerhouse?” the Pharaoh demanded over the Robolawyers’ radios.

  “Now you see me.” Powerhouse sped between the robots, wrapped his arms around Captain France’s waist, and dashed a thousand feet away. “Now you don’t.”

  The warehouse exploded with fireworks shooting everywhere.

  “Ah, zat is a display worthy of le Festival Pyrotechnique de Cannes.” Captain France grimaced. “Let go of me.”

  “Sorry.” Powerhouse released Captain France and dusted soot off his uniform. “That should take care of that.”

  “Quite so.”

  A bullet landed a few feet from them. Powerhouse spun around.

  Another fleet of Robolawyers filled the sky.

  Powerhouse sighed. “And we’re fresh out of fireworks warehouses.”

  The two heroes fled.

  The sky darkened as if twilight had descended.

  “Mon ami, what is zat?”

  Powerhouse stared upward.

  An airship the size of a Walmart hovered over them a thousand feet up. It looked like a cross between a Zeppelin and a naval destroyer.

  Two titanium arms reached down from the airship and clamped around the waists of Powerhouse and Captain France.

  “You won’t take me that easily, you villainous, uh, creep!” Powerhouse pounded the titanium hand.

  “Stop, you fool!” Zolgron boomed from the ship. “I’m bringing you up to safety.”

  Oh. Powerhouse’s cheeks warmed. “We can trust him, Captain.”

  Captain France folded his arms, sulking. “Zis is a most undignified way to be brought to safety.”

  Four of the Robolawyers flew up and closed in on them. A laser cannon fired, and the four robots exploded.

  Powerhouse whistled. “Wow, except for the ones in the warehouse, none of them exploded before.”

  Zolgron’s voice came over the ship’s speaker. “This ship’s cannons have an exploding ray that will cause things to explode even if there’s no earthly reason for it.”

  “Ah.” Captain France laughed. “I always wondered how zat was done.”

  Mitch Farrow leaned forward in his office chair.

  On the monitor, Powerhouse and Captain France were lifted up into the strange spacecraft. Mitch loosed an R-rated tirade. “They can’t get away.” He spoke into his Bluetooth ear piece. “Fournier, send a detachment of five Robolawyers to every exit from the city of Seattle. Nobody leaves until Powerhouse is dead.”

  “Right away, sir!”

  Powerhouse lounged in an ergonomic-adapting, feather soft, black chair on the airship’s bridge. Beside him, Captain France sank deep into his.

  Across from them, Zolgron fit snugly in his chair and was wrapped in a white towel. He shook his index finger at Powerhouse. “You’ve become too dependent on your super-imagination. Your other powers will atrophy. Add manual controls to your rocketpack and use them.”

  “When my super-imagination doesn’t work?”

  “Try all the time.”

  Captain France sniffed at Zolgron. “Pardon, but who are you?”

  “I’m the hero who gave this lazy American his superpowers. I’m also the world’s top cook.”

  Captain France raised his left eyebrow. “You must be mistaken.” He pointed his thumb at himself. “Zat would be me.”

  “Want to bet?” Zolgron narrowed his eyes.

  “A duel, non? Frying pans at twenty paces.”

  Powerhouse cleared his throat. “What about the hundreds of Robolawyers crawling around Seattle?”

  Zolgron waved it away. “Oh, that. I need to think about it.”

  “Couldn’t you destroy them all from this ship?”

  “Not without also blowing up all of Seattle.”

  Captain France said, “We must also be prepared for more to come.”

  “There will be no more.” Zolgron shook his head. “It seems there was a little explosion at the factory.”

  Powerhouse looked out the window. “We’re outside the city.”

  “We’re cloaked. Your overly suspicious Air Force lacks understanding about giant, unregistered aircrafts.”

  Figured. “I’ll make modifications to my suit so I can better withstand their attacks, and then I need to fly out of here.”

  Zolgron folded his arms. “You are not going back to Seattle without a plan.”

  “Understood. I need to fly home for something. I’ll be back.”

  “Very well. Are you going to imagine those modifications to your suit?”

  “Of course.” Powerhouse visualized a control panel on his left sleeve with buttons marked, “Stop, Start, Slow Down, and Speed Up.”

  Zolgron opened the aircraft’s side door. Powerhouse flew out and zoomed back to Bryerton. In his driveway, he resumed his secret identity as Mild-Mannered Dad Dave Johnson and walked in the front door.

  Naomi knelt by the couch, praying along with Rachel and Rosie Farrow. Naomi jumped
up and ran over to Dave. Tears streamed down her cheek as she wrapped her arms around Dave and kissed him. “You’re home.”

  Rachel slipped to her side. “How long has it been since you’ve seen him, dearie?”

  “Seven-thirty this morning.” Naomi nuzzled Dave’s neck.

  “If my bloke and I had kissed that much after ten hours apart, we’d still be married.”

  Dave flinched. “I have to research a couple things and grab dinner. Do the kids know what’s happened with Powerhouse?”

  Naomi bit her lip. “I’ve decided to wait until after they’ve finished their homework.”

  “Good. I’ll check with them before I head back out.” Dave sped into the master bedroom and pulled their Robolawyer out of the closet. Now to study you and find your weakness so I can defeat this manic, robotic menace.

  Chapter 10

  No One Gets Out of Here . . . .

  Mitch Farrow’s black phone rang.

  He hit the button on his Bluetooth. “The Pharaoh speaking.”

  “We have a bit of a problem.” Fournier squeaked. “We have five Robolawyers guarding each of the city exits, but the crowds are getting ugly.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Someone may try to break through our barricades. I recommend we eliminate the hostile threats by killing everyone who doesn’t get back from the barricade.”

  Frowning, the Pharaoh leaned back in his office chair. He didn’t start this thinking he’d have to commit mass murder.

  He glanced at his DVD collection on his nearest bookshelf and spotted Adventures in Babysitting. That was it. “Patch voice controls for the robot to the microphone in my office and turn on the distorter.”

  “Done,” Fournier said.

  Pharaoh opened his desk drawer, pulled out a lapel microphone, clipped it to his jacket, and switched it on. “This is the Pharaoh speaking. I’m after Powerhouse. Do not try to leave without my authorization. Nobody gets out of here without singing the blues.” Pharaoh grinned I’ve always wanted to say that. “Seriously, soon, anyone willing to sing any sad song may leave the city. Standby.”

  He covered the microphone and addressed Fournier over his Bluetooth ear piece. “Order the Robolawyers to rob every Karaoke bar in town to get equipment for each exit.”

  “It’ll be done within the hour, mighty Pharaoh.” Fournier pounded a few keystrokes on the keyboard. “More bad news, sir. We can’t make more Robolawyers.”

  “And why not?” Pharaoh scowled.

  “The factory overheated. It was destroyed along with the computer that had the plans for them.”

  Oh no. Pharaoh’s stomach tightened. “Did all the workers make it out?”

  “Why does that matter? My beautiful plans were destroyed along with a hundred beautiful Robolawyers.” Fournier sighed. “It does appear everyone made it out.”

  “If you’d wanted to protect your beautiful plans, you could’ve made a beautiful back up.”

  “With something like this, you want as few copies around as possible.”

  Mad scientists. Pharaoh sneered. “Powerhouse may have gotten away, the citizens are screaming at the gates, and the factory’s blown up. Do you have any good news?”

  “We’ve secured Powerhouse’s lawyer Brent McCall.”

  “Excellent.” Pharaoh rubbed his hands together. “Have you secured Century Link Field?”

  “The Seahawks’ season is over, the Sounders are out of town, and no legal special events are scheduled there. We just had to knock out a couple of sleepy guards.”

  “Hijack the airwaves. Today, the Pharaoh will deliver his message to Powerhouse.”

  Standing by his bedroom closet, Dave punched the activated Robolawyer lightly where its stomach would be if it were human. It remained still.

  At least it wasn’t rampaging. Thankfully, Zolgron had made this one rather than Dorado Industries.

  “What are you doing?” Naomi hollered from behind him.

  Dave spun to face her. She held a plate of Zolgron’s enchiladas.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Dave snorted. “I’m looking for a weak spot.”

  “But you and Captain France took out many of those robots on TV.”

  “It takes too much force. If I could find a way to get them to fall apart easily, I could take them down quickly, but there’s no major weakness.”

  “I know one.” Naomi beamed, her eyes sparkling. “I watched Boston Legal while I had this thing out for some paperwork.” She giggled. “Now all I have to say is, ‘Denny Crane’ and—”

  The Robolawyer trembled.

  Naomi laughed.

  “Who is Denny Crane?” Dave asked.

  The Robolawyer trembled.

  Naomi shrugged. “A fictional lawyer.”

  What good would that do them? Dave clenched his jaw. “I’ll let Zolgron know. I need to talk to the boys before I go.”

  Dave grabbed the plate and ate the enchiladas while he walked through the living room and headed toward the kitchen. He came into the boys’ room. Both were laying on their beds with books.

  Derrick closed his comic book, yawned, and brushed back his neck-length, black hair with his fingers. “Hey, Dad.” He looked at the Superman clock on the wall. “You’re late. What happened?”

  “Powerhouse encountered a deadly foe who kept me downtown. The Robolawyers have gone bad. Hundreds of them are rampaging.”

  “Ooh.” James peaked up from his math book. “Are they g-giving people p-paper cuts?”

  “I wish.” Dave rolled his eyes. “They’re armed and apparently can disrupt my super-imagination. I need some other way to fight them.”

  Derrick snapped his fingers. “You need a rocket launcher.”

  “Cool.” Dave visualized a rocket launcher. It floated in midair.

  “Better imagine something bigger.”

  The rocket launcher grew as long as his arm and the barrel became three feet wide.

  James laughed. “Forget a boring rocket. You need an energy cannon.”

  “No way.” Derrick glowered at his brother. “A rocket launcher is far cooler.”

  “You little dork!” James launched off his bed, his arms out to pummel his brother.

  Mild-Mannered Dad Dave Johnson cleared his throat.

  James glanced at Dave’s narrowed eyes, stopped in his tracks, and folded his arms. “The Invisibility M-master used a rocket launcher.”

  “Sorry, Derrick. Your brother has a point.” Dave super-imagined the rocket launcher morphing into the energy cannon.

  Derrick’s lip wobbled. “But, Dad, how many villains have used energy cannons in the comic books? Besides, your rocket launcher is way cooler than the Invisibility Master’s was.”

  “Also a point.” Dave imagined the cannon turned back to a rocket.

  James growled at his brother. “You can only fire a rocket once. You can fire a ton of energy beams.”

  “But he can take out a lot more robots with a rocket.”

  “I’m older!”

  “I’m better at science!”

  Enough. Dave put up his right hand. “That’s it. Since I love both of you equally and I respect both of you equally, I am going to take one of each!”

  Derrick smirked. “How are you going to carry both?”

  “Yeah.” James glared at his baby brother. “They’re both huge.”

  “Easily fixed.” Dave super-imagined a combination energy cannon and rocket launcher. The rocket launcher was in the center with a large rocket loaded. On the outside rim was a weapon that would fire an energy beam. Ready near his trigger finger was a button to switch the device from cannon to rocket and control the intensity of the cannon.

  Both boys ogled it.

  “Wow,” they said in unison.

  “Thanks, boys.” Dave grinned, his cheeks warming. He visualized the weapon shrunk down to the size of a small toy and put it in his pocket. “I’ll re-enlarge it when I’m on Zolgron’s airship. I’d better get going.” He hugged boys at o
nce. “I probably won’t be back until late. Please remember to pray for me.”

  “We will,” Derrick said with James half a beat behind him.

  Dave walked out into the living room. “Naomi.”

  On the TV, a female, black reporter held a microphone. “The criminal known as the Pharaoh has declared there’s only one way out of Seattle.”

  A muffled male voice said, “Nobody gets out of here without singing the blues.”

  “Oh my.” Rachel gasped, her eyes widening. “No, it couldn’t be.”

  “What couldn’t it be?” Dave cocked his head.

  Rachel swallowed. “Nothing.”

  The female reporter continued over the video. “The Robolawyers have set up karaoke machines at each of the city exits. One traveler has said he will stay at a hotel in Seattle rather than go home because, ‘I’d rather risk death than put up with that singing.’”

  In the background, a man warbled, “Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart.”

  No, anything but that song. Dave shuddered. “Ugh. This fiend has gone too far in unleashing such an evil earworm on an unsuspecting populace.”

  The television screen cut to black.

  A cartoon image of a pharaoh appeared. “Greetings, I am the Pharaoh. I’m sending this message to Powerhouse. My Robolawyers are holding your attorney hostage at Century Link Field.”

  The screen cut to Brent McCall tied to a soccer goal.

  The Pharaoh said, “Tomorrow at noon, Mr. McCall will be pelted to death by high velocity soccer balls unless Powerhouse can stop my army of Robolawyers. So what it will be, Powerhouse? Your own life, or that of your pretty-boy lawyer?”

  Dave scowled. He couldn’t let McCall get hurt. He whispered, “This looks like a job for Powerhouse.”

  “What was that?” Rachel asked, blinking.

  “Um, I gotta go.” He took his plate to the kitchen and dashed out its door into the backyard. The next door neighbors were holding a barbeque.

  Couldn’t change there. Dave raced down the street half a mile and glanced around the group of white brick apartment buildings. Deserted.