First Mentor (Minimum Wage Sidekick Book 5)

by Lucas Flint

  “No air ventilation,” I said, gesturing at the concrete ceiling. “Nightbolt says it is even worse during the day.”

  But Teresa seemed to have forgotten all about overheating, because she was now looking around at all of the boxes, crates, and display cases with the wonder of a child in a toy store. “Wow. Does all of this stuff belong to Mr. Owens?”

  “Yep. The things in display cases are trophies from his superhero career. Don’t touch any of it.”

  Teresa looked at me. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not yours,” I said. “Look, but don’t touch.”

  “Okay,” said Teresa, though she pouted to show that she really wasn’t pleased at being told what she couldn’t do.

  Shaking my head, I walked down the aisle in the center, searching for the Rubber Ball, while Teresa followed behind me, her head turning this way and that as she attempted to look at everything at once. She looked kind of cute with the way she was trying to look at everything, but I had to put that out of my mind in order to focus on finding the Rubber Ball.

  There. I found it exactly where it had been before, between the blackened remains of some kind of giant laser cannon and a skeleton with wings growing out of its back. The Rubber Ball stood very still on its pedestal, but the longer I looked at it, the more convinced I became that it was actually alive, that it somehow knew I was looking at it. It probably wasn’t a very developed or advanced intelligence, but I would have to be careful about it nonetheless, because it was probably smarter than it looked.

  “What’s that?” said Teresa, suddenly appearing next to me as if she teleported. She squinted and read the plate underneath it. “The Rubber Ball? Why would Mr. Owens have such a huge rubber ball among his trophies?”

  “Don’t know,” I said. “That’s what I’m about to find out.”

  I reached out to remove the display case, but then Teresa grabbed my wrist. I looked at her in annoyance. “What are you doing?”

  “You told me not to touch anything,” Teresa pointed out. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t make yourself look like a hypocrite.”

  Scowling, I yanked my wrist out of her grasp and said, “Just because I said you shouldn’t touch anything doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t.”

  “Why?” said Teresa in that annoying way of hers. “What if you accidentally break it?”

  I had to bite my tongue to avoid saying something I would regret. “Because the whole reason I came down here was to see this thing and find out what it was.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask Mr. Owens?”

  “Because he wouldn’t tell me.”

  “If he wouldn’t tell you, don’t you think he has a good reason for it? Mr. Owens is a very wise man. A bit harsh sometimes, but he knows a lot more than you do about the world, so he probably has a good reason for not answering your questions.”

  I hated how reasonable Teresa’s explanation was. “Look, I didn’t ask you to come down here with me and I didn’t ask for your opinion, either. If you’re so sure that Nightbolt has a good reason for not telling me what this is, then maybe you should just leave.”

  “Okay,” said Teresa. “I’ll go and wake up Mr. Owens and let him know you’re snooping around in his possessions without his knowledge. He’ll be happy to hear that, I bet.”

  Teresa turned around to leave, but I put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Okay, okay, you can touch some of the stuff, too. But be careful, okay? Don’t break anything or handle it too roughly and make sure to put it back where you found it.”

  Teresa looked over her shoulder at me with a triumphant smile on her face. “Okay. I didn’t want to wake him up anyway. Older men like him don’t like being awoken too early.”

  With that, Teresa walked over to the display case containing Ultimatos’ arm. I watched her go for a second, thinking about how manipulative she could be when she wanted. If she wanted, I figured she could be a great supervillain, though of course I didn’t say that aloud, mostly because I didn’t think she would be very happy to hear that.

  But that didn’t matter now. I turned my attention back to the Rubber Ball. Removing the display case was surprisingly easy; it lifted right off, like the lid on a shoe box. Carefully placing the case on the floor, I looked at the Rubber Ball again. Outside of its case, its colors seemed brighter and richer. It also looked less like rubber and more like human flesh. I even thought I heard the beating of a heart somewhere inside it, though that was probably just my imagination more than anything.

  I hesitated for a single moment before putting both hands on the Ball and raising it off its pedestal. I handled it even more delicately than the glass case, though I didn’t know why, given how it was made out of rubber and would probably bounce on the floor if I dropped it. It was kind of like holding a newborn baby; maybe it wouldn’t shatter like glass if you dropped it, but something bad would happen anyway.

  That was when I felt it. Deep inside the Rubber Ball, barely noticeable, was a thumping, heart-like motion. This was not just a simple vibration. It felt like a real human heart was inside there, beating away furiously. The Rubber Ball might have been asleep before, but it was wide awake now and was aware that I was holding it.

  “Now, how are you related to Rubberman?” I muttered, turning the Rubber Ball over in my hands. “Are you going to tell me that or not?”

  I don’t know why I was talking to the Rubber Ball. After all, it had no mouth through which it could speak, much less a mind that would allow it to even form thoughts. It was the beating heart within it, I realized. It made me think it was a real living creature capable of communicating with me. After all, all living creatures could communicate in some way, whether it was from speaking words, using their limbs, making chirps and growls, or what have you. If this thing was alive, then logically it should have some way to communicate with me, though I had no idea how a limbless, featureless, noiseless ball could communicate with anyone.

  I held it up closer to my face to get a better look at it. Up close, I didn’t see anything that would help me identify it. All I could tell was that its surface was clean and shiny, but somehow I knew that Nightbolt didn’t spend a whole lot of time polishing it. Instinctively, I sensed that Nightbolt stayed as far away from this thing as he could, but I didn’t know why.

  “Wow, that’s even bigger outside of the case than it is in,” said Teresa, suddenly appearing at my side again. “It’s as big as my younger cousin Fernando’s head!”

  Startled by Teresa’s sudden appearance, I accidentally dropped the Ball. Desperately, I tried to catch it, but I was too slow. All I could do was watch as my fingers fruitlessly failed to find purchase on its smooth surface. Again, I instinctively knew that something bad would happen when it hit the floor, but I just didn’t know what.

  When the Rubber Ball hit the floor, it bounced straight back up. But it didn’t bounce up slowly; no, it flew up at me as fast as a basketball thrown by a professional basketball player. The Rubber Ball struck me in the face, knocking me flat on my back, while Teresa screamed. My helmet protected my face from the worst of it, but my head still spun from the impact of the fall. Nonetheless, I managed to raise my head high enough to see the Rubber Ball bouncing all around the Basement now.

  It didn’t just bounce, though. Wherever it hit, it created a small crater from which cracks spread. It struck one of the boxes, bursting it open and sending a whole bunch of shirts, pants, and socks flying everywhere. It struck the display case with the demonic armor in it, but the case must have been made of bulletproof glass, because it just cracked the display case badly instead of shattering outright.

  Nonetheless, the Rubber Ball was seemingly everywhere at once, nearly impossible to follow for an ordinary person. But I did see the Ball coming for Teresa, who was still standing and screaming, so I pulled her to the ground and covered her with my body, allowing the Rubber Ball to fly harmlessly past us. As it passed, however, I thought I sensed some frustration from the Rubber Ball, as if it
was bothered that I had managed to save Teresa before it could smash her skull into bits.

  “What is going on here?” Teresa said in an extremely high-pitched voice; I noticed that her Mexican accent became harder to understand when she was afraid. “Why is it bouncing around like that?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” I snapped. “Just stay down. I don’t think it has any control over its trajectory, so as long as we stay on the floor, we should be good.”

  “How are we supposed to stop it?” Teresa asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Again, I don’t know,” I said, raising my voice briefly to be heard when the Rubber Ball smashed into a crate, which burst into chunks of wood and boxes of bullets that were stored inside. “I don’t think we can stop it.”

  “Then what are we going to do?” Teresa said. “Just wait here until it stops bouncing on its own?”

  “It’s not going to stop on its own,” I muttered. “It doesn’t want to stop.”

  “Doesn’t want to stop?” Teresa repeated. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. I looked back toward the entrance. “We need to make it back to the stairs.”

  Teresa sniffled and wiped away some of her tears. “Of course. If we can get to the stairs, we can get out of the Basement and find Mr. Owens, who might be able to help us.”

  I nodded, but in truth, I was more concerned about the Rubber Ball escaping the Basement than us getting out. I wasn’t sure why, but I sensed that if the Rubber Ball got out into the world, something very bad would happen. It was related to the frustration I’d sensed earlier, when I pulled Teresa down to the floor. At first, I thought the Rubber Ball saw Teresa as some kind of threat and was just annoyed that it had failed to kill her.

  Now I was convinced that it enjoyed killing humans and that it would like nothing more than to get out of the Basement and into the real world where other humans were, humans it could brutally murder to sate its blood lust. Again, I didn’t know how I knew that. I just did.

  “We’re going to crawl across the floor to get to the exit,” I said to Teresa, raising my voice once again when the Rubber Ball smashed into another display case on the other side of the room. “That way, it will be harder for the Rubber Ball to hit us. I think that once we reach the stairs, it won’t be able to follow us, because I don’t think it has much control over its trajectory. I’ll go first.”

  I immediately began crawling along the floor, keeping as close to the display cases as I could, while Teresa followed behind me. I could hear her sobbing as she followed me, but at the moment I didn’t focus on that. My eyes were on the foot of the stairs. They weren’t very far away—not more than ten or twelve feet—but I crawled so slowly that it felt like it would take an eternity for us to get there. All the while, the Rubber Ball bounced back and forth overhead, striking display cases, boxes, and crates without discrimination. Every time it passed by overhead, I cringed, but it never hit me or Teresa, which made me believe that we might be able to get out of here alive after all.

  But when we were about halfway to the stairs, near the display case with the golden sword, the Rubber Ball struck the tall display case. Again, the display case did not break, however, when the Rubber Ball struck it, the case fell forward. And, unfortunately, I was passing by it at the same time.

  I tried to leap forward, but I only managed an awkward wiggle before the display case fell on the lower half of my body with a loud crash. Shards of glass flew past me, cutting through the back and shoulders of my suit, while the sword itself—which was much heavier than it looked—fell on my legs and pinned them there under its flat. The pain in my legs felt just like when I broke my right leg during soccer practice back in fifth grade, only I wasn’t sure if my legs were broken or just hurt a lot.

  “Beams, watch out!” Teresa suddenly shouted behind me.

  I looked up just in time to see the Rubber Ball coming toward me. The direction from which it came made no sense; there was no way it could have knocked over the display case and then bounce from the front of the Basement like that. It occurred to me that the Rubber Ball was far smarter than it appeared; if this wasn’t confirmation of that theory, then I didn’t know what was.

  But that thought passed through my mind in maybe half a second. In the next half second, my instincts kicked in and I fired a laser blast at the Rubber Ball.

  It was possible that the Rubber Ball had some control over its trajectory; however, when you’re bouncing in a straight line toward something at fifty miles an hour, you can’t turn even if you do have some control over yourself. As a result, my lasers passed through the Rubber Ball, leaving a large hole in the center and knocking the Rubber Ball out of the air. The Rubber Ball fell to the ground with a splat which sounded too much like someone dropping a human brain on the floor, but it at least had stopped moving.

  Gasping for breath, I suddenly remembered the pain in my legs and looked over my shoulder. The golden sword—apparently having belonged to someone named ‘The Golden Samurai,’ if the nameplate was accurate—still lay across my legs, but with some effort, I was able to push it off my legs. Both of my legs still hurt a lot, but as far as I could tell, neither of them were broken, though they’d probably be sore for a while.

  Teresa once again suddenly appeared by my side, kneeling beside me on the broken glass of the display case, her eyes wide with terror and worry. “Beams, are you okay? How do your legs feel? Can you still move them?”

  “Yeah,” I said with a slight groan. “But they’re gonna be sore tomorrow for sure.”

  Teresa sighed with relief before looking over at the seemingly dead Rubber Ball. “Is it dead?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I think it may have had a heart. Given how my eye beams went straight through its center, I don’t see how it could have possibly survived.”

  Without warning, the Rubber Ball slid forward slightly. Teresa shrieked, while I tried to stand up. Unfortunately, my legs were in too much pain, so all I could do was just prop myself up on my hands and watch, with disbelief, as the Rubber Ball rolled toward us inch by inch. Given how slow and awkward its movements were, the Rubber Ball was obviously in great pain, but it seemed determined to finish us off anyway.

  But before it could get very far, a net came out of nowhere and fell on it. The net then turned and lifted off the ground, with the Rubber Ball (which had stopped moving again) stuck inside it like some weird kind of fish.

  Surprised, Teresa and I looked over to see who was holding the net. It was Nightbolt, wearing his pajamas, holding the net with both hands, a grim grin of satisfaction on his ancient lips.

  “There you go,” said Nightbolt, addressing the Rubber Ball as if it could understand what he was saying. “You won’t get away that easily. Not that you would get very far with that big hole in your center, mind, but you’re still never going to see the light of day again.”

  The Rubber Ball made no noise, did nothing to indicate that it had even heard Nightbolt. But I sensed nonetheless that the Rubber Ball had heard every word Nightbolt said and was not happy about it at all, though it was currently incapable of retaliating or responding.

  “Nightbolt?” I said. “What are you—”

  “Shh,” Nightbolt said, holding a finger up to his mouth. He nodded at the Rubber Ball as if it were some sort of cornered wild animal. “It’s listening.”

  Carefully, and with more grace than a man his age normally had, Nightbolt made his way back over to the pedestal upon which the Rubber Ball stood moments before. He emptied the Rubber Ball onto the pedestal with great delicacy and then placed the still-intact display case over it. The Rubber Ball did not move at all as he did that; however, I thought that the hole in its center had shrunk slightly, like it was healing, although it might have been my eyes playing tricks on me.

  Then Nightbolt turned around, looked directly at me as if I was the only person in the room, and said, in a firm voice, “We need to talk. Back in the h
ouse, where that thing can’t hear us.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A few minutes later, I sat down in one of Nightbolt’s aging red recliners and put my helmet in my lap. The recliner sank slightly under my weight, the springs creaking. I leaned back in the chair and looked at Nightbolt, who sat in the recliner opposite mine, a water bottle from his fridge in his hands. At his feet lay Spike, who was fast asleep, his bandaged leg as still as ever. He did make a small whining sound every now and then, though that seemed to be because of some dream he was having rather than because of the pain from his wound.

  But that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was Nightbolt’s face. He looked angry at me, angrier than I’d ever seen him before. Even though he was a lot older and frailer than me, I found I didn’t like the way he looked at me. It was as if he had caught me running around with a grenade in my hands, like I’d nearly blown myself up or something. Part of me wished Teresa was still here, but Nightbolt had sent her away, telling her to be safe and not come back unless there was another alien abduction at her family’s ranch. Teresa certainly hadn’t wasted anytime leaving, which just annoyed me the more I thought about it, because it meant that I was going to get into trouble all by myself and she wouldn’t have to deal with any of the consequences.

  “What were you doing down there?” asked Nightbolt, folding his hands over his lap. “And why did you go behind my back to do it?”

  I hesitated, but Nightbolt had that exact same ability to make you tell the truth that Rubberman had, so I said, “Because I wanted to know more about the Rubber Ball.”

  “The Rubber Ball,” said Nightbolt. “Yes, I should have realized that that would have had special interest to you. I just didn’t think you would deliberately go behind my back to take a look at it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I just couldn’t forget about it. It was … calling to me.”

  I know that that sounded really lame, but I couldn’t think of any better words to describe it. How else could I describe the way it spoke to me? I had never felt anything like that before. Even now, when I was in the house and the Rubber Ball was still in the Basement, I thought I felt something reaching out to me, though it may have just been my imagination.