Ultimate Mid-life Crisis

by Adam Graham

  A couple dozen men streamed at her.

  She glanced at her purse. No. Using her gun would be more deadly and not as fun of a way to make them pay for abusing dogs.

  With a single kick, she knocked three of the abusers into the wall.

  Another ran over with a shovel and swung it at her.

  She grabbed it, jumped, and delivered a roundhouse. He sprawled on the ground. She broke the shovel over her left knee.

  Something hard slammed into her back. She spun. A bald man with a gold tooth hauled back a rake to strike her again. She ripped it from his hand and hit him in the knees with the sharp end of the stick.

  With all these tools being used as weapons, an innocent creature could get hurt. Time to end this. She raced around the barn at top speed, knocking out each attacker in turn.

  With only one young guy left standing, she stopped and grabbed him by the shirt. “I want answers. Who’s behind this?”

  “Mr. Big Dog, at least that’s what people call him. He left and took his fight dog with him. Pa might know where he is, but you knocked him out.”

  She’d have to rethink this strategy. “What do you know?”

  “Lady, I don’t like this sport, and I know nothing about it. Pa says I need to toughen up. He’s been dragging me out here.”

  The injured pit bull snarled. “Stay away! I’m a big, fierce, scary dog, not vulnerable prey!”

  The boy clucked his tongue. “Poor thing. She didn’t have a chance. She wasn’t a fight dog. One of these rednecks just found an abandoned pit bull and thought she’d be tough. Well, she wasn’t.”

  Naomi knelt a safe distance away from the pit bull. “Pretty girl. Sweet puppy. I love you. It’s safe now. We won’t hurt you.”

  “You lie,” the pit bull whimpered as she shirked away. She was bleeding all over from bite and scratch marks. “Everyone hurts me. Everyone hates me. Why? What did I do? Why doesn’t anyone want me in their pack?”

  “Don’t be afraid, pretty girl. I want you.” Naomi reached for her.

  “For lunch!” The pit bull growled and snapped at her.

  The poor thing needed a vet, but only after months of therapy would the poor girl let anyone get close enough to her to help her while she was awake. Naomi patted her purse. Gun, turn into a tranquilizer gun for dogs. She whipped it out and shot a dart into the dog.

  Once the dog’s accusatory eyes had finally closed, she scooped the poor creature up. Now to call wake up a vet and call the Sheriff to investigate this.

  Dave’s stomach churned as he sat across from Naomi’s friend Carmella in a coffee shop.

  He sipped his iced apple cider. “Powerhouse has been flying around the country on one false tip after another. Since the cable channels covered her, it looks like there’s more false sightings of her than of Elvis.”

  Carmella played with her hair. “I tracked down her family in Oregon. I thought maybe she’d gone to make peace with them, but nope. They haven’t seen her. The sister is in the drug scene now. The brother said his sisters were dead to him and spoke eerily like a robot only capable of carrying out his dead father’s will. It’s God’s grace that Naomi came out of that family sane.”

  Dave frowned. “We need a miracle to even get an idea of where she is.”

  Powerhouse’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the message.

  It said, “Jane Doe in Lovelace Hospital matches Naomi’s description.”

  Dave stuffed the phone back in his pocket and jumped up. “I’ve got to go. Naomi could be in a hospital in New Mexico.”

  Carmella put up her hand. “Hold on, cowboy. Let’s pray before you go.”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “You need to make time, and you can’t always just react to everything. It’s not urgent. If she’s there, she’ll be there once we’re done praying.”

  “Maybe, you’re right.” Dave shrugged. “It’s probably not her. I have to check, but let’s pray first.”

  Running at superspeed, Marie Dubois AKA Justice Woman made it to Cheyenne, Wyoming.

  She slowed, slipped inside a gas station’s bathroom, freshened up at the sink, and slumped her shoulders. No putting it off any longer. “Body, change back into boring Naomi Johnson, with her staid purse and her dull yellow top and brown pants.”

  Dizziness rolled over Naomi. What was she doing here? She gripped the sink. Raiding her savings account, again? Was that really necessary? She peeked inside her purse and found only ten dollars left, a huge vet bill for her new pit bull, and a withdrawal slip made out for a thousand dollars, in handwriting that was messier than hers.

  Oh yeah, she needed money for rent. She dashed out across the street to her bank. After arriving at the teller window, she handed the young man her withdrawal slip.

  He asked, “Can I see some ID?”

  Naomi pulled out her driver’s license. “Can I get these in fifties?”

  “Sure, let me process that.” He typed some information and counted out the total. “Nine fifty, one thousand. Have a great day, ma’am.”

  She walked away. She got halfway to the door before a female teller said behind her, “Hey, that woman looked like Naomi Johnson.”

  “That was her name.”

  The female teller said, “You idiot! Haven’t you seen the news? Ma’am!”

  Naomi sped outside and glanced back. The woman was running in high heels. Best not to make it easy to catch her. She dashed around the corner of the bank before jetting out of Cheyenne at super speed.

  Had she been missed? Naomi stopped running on a mountain road. She checked the date on her watch. She’d been gone eleven days longer than she’d told Dave. No wonder! This is the most irresponsible thing I’ve done since I was in college.

  She bit her lip. Why did it take eleven days for her to become cable news fodder? Only after she was gone an extra week had he noticed her absence and said, “I guess I should have a wife or something.” He was only looking for her out of obligation. He really didn’t need her or want her.

  Tears filled her eyes. She was like her pit bull, only her new pack didn’t love her anymore either.

  Powerhouse stood in front of the bank in Wyoming.

  A full-figured female teller in a pair of high heels and a black pants suit pointed to the door. “When I got there, she was gone.”

  “Did she leave in a car?”

  “That’s the weird thing about it. Only employees’ cars were present. It’s like she disappeared.”

  A supervillain had to be behind such a dastardly scheme, but at least he knew what state to search in. “Thanks, citizen. I will take it from here.”

  Powerhouse sped away at over 800 miles an hour. If only he were as fast as the Flash, then he could check everywhere in Wyoming in minutes and not miss anything. Major Speed could manage it in an hour, but he’d need to be found himself before he could find Naomi.

  After six minutes, a wounded dog yelped.

  Powerhouse reversed course and ran towards a barn eighty yards away.

  Hundreds of men cheered.

  Scowling, he ran in the barn’s open door and scooped up an injured dog. It thanked him by snapping at his armor. He muzzled both dogs.

  Several men grabbed guns and fired at Powerhouse.

  He mentally activated his personal force field, hurled the bullets to the ground, and disintegrated the weapons into ashes.

  One of the guys said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Powerhouse dropped a steel cage over the barn. “Not so fast, boys. Dog fighting is a nasty, cruel sport.”

  “Don’t judge!” A man with a bandage on his face shook his fist. “Stop the hate!”

  “How about you stop hating the messenger? I’m simply informing you of why your sport’s a felony in all fifty states.”

  Bandaged Man sneered. “Clowns roughing us up is also illegal.”

  “Don’t shoot me, and I won’t defend myself.” Powerhouse pulled out his cell phone. “I’m going to call the State Police.”
Wait, what was the number for Wyoming State Police? “Does anyone have the number?”

  Crickets chirped, and the dogs snarled.

  Powerhouse said, “Then I shall prevail with the help of my allies at 411.”

  “This is wrong!” Bandaged Man fumed. “You’re an intolerant busybody, forcing on me a law I don’t accept and trying to deprive me of my way of life. Stop being a bigot, accept me as I am, claim your partner, and go back to the city where you belong!”

  “Huh? You mean another costumed hero came out here?”

  “You’re not with the crazy woman in the black cape and hat?”

  “No. What happened?”

  “She busted up my other fight, beat up a couple dozen guys, and got a lot of my customers arrested. That’s why I left Seattle, to get away from hateful oppressors like the cops and yourself. I was assured, out here, a man’s free to smuggle drugs and hold dogfights in peace, but all the big city problems just follow you into the country.”

  “Um, yeah.” Powerhouse blinked. This mysterious superheroine sounded like the lady who’d bailed him out. Maybe she could help him search Wyoming for Naomi, since it was her home state. “What town was she in again?”

  Naomi was disguised as Marie Dubois as she stared at her cup of coffee. Rationally, it was time to go back to her boring life like a good girl. Only, if she went back, how was she going to explain her absence?

  She glanced up at Mike. He was serving another customer. He seemed to be such a big Powerhouse fan. Perhaps he could tell her when it was noticed that she was gone and gauge how sincere her husband’s desire to find her was.

  Powerhouse burst through the swinging bar doors and headed to Mike.

  What was he doing here? Naomi gaped.

  Mike sputtered, “Well, I’ll be—are you the real Powerhouse?”

  Powerhouse showed off by hovering a few inches in the air.

  All the people in the coffee house gawked.

  Mike laughed. “Yes would have worked, but that was cool.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Powerhouse landed. “In Seattle, I have to prove I’m not a cosplayer. Anyhow, I was wondering if you’d heard of a woman with amazing powers in a black mask.”

  “Oh, Justice Woman.” Mike grinned. “Who wants to know?”

  “Someone who needs her help. Do you know where I could find her?”

  Naomi grimaced. Mike was going to blow everything. She had to do something. She slid over to her husband, touched his glove, and spoke in her sexiest French accent. “Bonjour, Monsieur.”

  “Uh, bien?” Powerhouse said.

  She ran her hand across his breastplate. “You are Powerhouse. I’ve seen you on TV. You are very intriguing. So manly.”

  “Um, thanks. I was talking to the barkeep.”

  Naomi ran her hand across his chest. “So desirable.”

  Her husband backed away. “Ma’am, I don’t think—”

  “—come to my place. We’ll watch Wonder Woman, and I’ll show you what a wonder woman I can be.”

  “Woman!” a voice snapped from behind her.

  Naomi spun, her arms folded. “Oui?”

  Ted Walker, who’d come to her “rescue” in order to hit on her himself, stood and glared at her. “I thought you had some class, but instead you’re only available to celebrities. The average guy’s not good enough for you. I’m glad my little Julia wasn’t here to see this. And you are a fine hero, Powerhouse. You’re supposed to be a defender of virtue and some big hero and you come here and seduce our women.”

  Powerhouse raised his hands. “I did what?”

  “Don’t play dumb. We all know why you’re so hot to find your ‘Mama Johnson.’ It’s not enough that you’re betraying your friend Dave Johnson. You have to try and sweet talk our women, cheating on your mistress.”

  Powerhouse gasped. “That’s a filthy lie! I’d never betray Dave Johnson. I always do what’s right. My job as Powerhouse is to help people and be loyal. Naomi Johnson is missing and needs my help. That’s why I’m looking for her. Since she’s not here, I’d better be going.”

  He sped out the door and then a blast from his jet pack came from the center of town. Ted frowned at Naomi and stomped out of the coffee shop.

  She blinked. She was easy for hitting on her own husband? Then again, her dad had always said she was a whore. Now Ted and everyone else in the town thought so too.

  Mike leaned in and whispered, “You could have helped him.”

  What if her husband didn’t really want to find her? “What if this Naomi Johnson doesn’t want to be found?”

  “If she’s out there, she needs to come forward. The police are suspectin’ her husband’s involved and he could get arrested.”

  “Perhaps someone does need to explain that to her, so she can consider it, oui?” She deposited the cash for her drink on the table. “Keep the change.”

  She strode outside. What to do now?

  If she didn’t go back, Dave would be viewed as guilty even if he escaped being wrongly convicted. If she went back, it’d be to a marriage that didn’t fit with her husband’s superhero lifestyle.

  All this time, she’d thought he’d wanted her back because he loved her. Instead her husband must have really only wanted the boys back, or perhaps he’d felt a sense of duty.

  “I have it,” she said to her horse as she swung up on his back.

  Her horse snorted. “You lie. You don’t have a treat for me.”

  “Sorry.” She stroked his mane.

  It was time for Naomi Johnson to die. She should at least be able to fake her own death right.

  She’d give Dave sufficient time to grieve. A week would probably do it, then she’d return to Seattle as Justice Woman. She’d win Dave’s heart back as a superheroine who was worthy of him, an exciting crime-fighting partner who couldn’t be forgotten or shoved to the side. The kids would much prefer their new exciting stepmother to the boring natural mother.

  Death to Naomi Johnson, long live Marie Dubois.

  Chapter 17

  The Master Planners

  “Perfect.” The Pharaoh smoked a cigarette in his underground office as he sat behind the ebony desk. He read the dossier. Dave Johnson’s tax returns revealed he’d received royalties from Blue Cat Comics for Powerhouse’s comic book, got a COO salary from Powerhouse Incorporated, and earned a salary from Blue Cat Comics for an editing job. Dave Johnson was Powerhouse.

  Pharaoh skimmed through the rest of the material. Johnson was a high school dropout who’d eventually gotten a GED. His online photo albums were filled with pictures from comic cons. He’d written so many forum posts on superhero topics, he could turn them into several badly written books. It was a shame to have to kill such a dedicated geek.

  A photo of two pre-teen boys was near the bottom of the file.

  Mitch stared at it. Why did Johnson have to be a father? He picked up the picture and swallowed. “Sorry, boys, but it’s my daughter or your dad.”

  Fournier entered and coughed. “Are you satisfied?”

  “Yes.” Pharaoh put out his cigarette. “Dave Johnson is Powerhouse, and I know how to get him. I need to lure him to the right warehouse in Seattle.”

  “But he’s off in Wyoming searching for his wife.”

  “I’ll get him back here. Dorado Incorporated owns a lot of media outlets in Wyoming. I’ll send word I want to help and need to meet with him. That’ll set everything up. We need a good soundboard to make this work. I want to be above suspicion, should the trap not work.”

  Powerhouse was ensconced in his airship, talking to Carmella on Dave Johnson’s phone. “It already feels like I’ve looked everywhere, and I’ve hardly even begun. This is such a huge state.”

  Carmella’s voice said, “I thought Captain France was helping.”

  Powerhouse guffawed. “His idea of helping me out is taking a vacation in Yellowstone. Granted, that is one part of this big state that I don’t have to search. I wish Miss Invisible were available, but she’s out
on a retreat with her sidekicks. I thought I could get help from that Justice Woman but had to give up looking for her. Some crazy blonde hit on me and invited me to her place to watch Wonder Woman and gave me an innuendo.”

  Carmella asked, “Was she a fan girl at a comic con?”

  “No, she was a cowgirl at a saloon that served coffee.”

  “Then how did she know you’re a fan boy?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Where was this? I’d like to double check there.”

  He could’ve missed something while running out of that town at his top speed. “I’ll send you the address, but it’ll be a bit of a drive for you. I’m going back to Seattle for the night and I’ll get back to Wyoming tomorrow.”

  “If you’re closer to there than here, you’d best stay in a hotel.”

  “I want to check the house for clues again. Besides, tomorrow morning, I’m meeting with Mitch Farrow. He says he wants to talk about how he can help. His company owns half the TV and radio stations in Wyoming.”

  “He’s one of Powerhouse’s enemies. Why would he want to help you?”

  “My guess is as a favor for his ex-wife. She and Naomi are friends, but I can’t afford to fuss about why he wants to help. At this point, I’m desperate.”

  Mitch Farrow knelt before the computer monitor portraying the cherubic alien. “So you see, Powerhouse will be taken care of.”

  Bel nodded. “Yes, if he takes your bait, then one obstacle to my glorious reign and the long-term salvation of Earth’s children will be removed. I have one modification to your plan. Rather than one tank of gas, I want two. One with poison gas and one with a sleeping gas.”

  “Why?” Farrow blinked.

  “It may be worthwhile to see if Powerhouse can be made to see the error of his ways. If he can be, he could be more aid to us alive than dead.”

  “Your Majesty, I don’t think that’s wise.”

  Bel stiffened and his eyes became cold and furious. “I will judge what is wise! Obey me. I will give the order on which gas to deploy.”