by Adam Graham
Farrow swallowed. “As you command. And my daughter—”
“She’ll be given a two year reprieve as soon as Powerhouse is dealt with.”
Farrow nodded. He’d worry later about whether the interdimensional monarch would agree with Varlock that Dr. Doom’s cheesy antics were good ideas. For now, it’d be good enough that Rosie would be given an extension, and he’d be given a chance to save her and the Earth from organized religion and the corrupt establishment.
Bel eyed him. “Your next task is to dispose of Dr. Fournier. He knows too much for a mercenary.”
“But your majesty—”
“Do not question your king!”
“Yes, sir.” He’d have to find a way to give Fournier a fighting chance.
Marie Dubois sat on her horse as she stared over the highway’s guardrail, six miles out of town. The road’s curve was tough to handle. It’d be perfectly believable that a minivan would go over the side, explode, and leave no trace of the driver. She could remote-control it, plant enough personal affects to avert any suspicions, and be off the hook.
She patted her horse. “Come on, Cyrus, back to town.”
He asked, “Do we have to ride on the pavement? I like the dirt.”
“We’ll ride on the dirt later.” She smiled. Tonight Naomi Johnson would die and her new life would start. Marie Dubois would go to Seattle and snare the recently widowed Dave Johnson. He’d be transfixed on her. She’d be an essential part of his life that he could never forget for a week.
The horse stopped outside the coffee bar. Marie tied it to the hitching post out front and went inside. She looked up at the menu board. What hadn’t she tried? The watermelon latte sounded good, as did the kiwi orange espresso.
The doors burst open behind her. Marie glanced back.
Carmella had just walked through the two swinging doors.
What to do? Marie took deep breaths. She had to stop thinking she was boring Naomi Johnson. She looked nothing like Naomi and sounded nothing like her. Besides, rationally, she was a mental patient confusing herself with a missing woman she’d seen on the news. She only knew so much about Naomi because she’d been stalking the woman since she was a young child.
Maybe the best thing to do was to approach Naomi’s catty, so-called friend. Show how different she was. If Carmella didn’t recognize her, that’d prove she really was Marie Dubois.
Marie smiled at the witchy hypocrite. “Bonjour, you are new here, no?”
Carmella blinked. “Yes.”
“Let me buy you a drink. This place has exquisite flavors.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“I insist. You should try the raspberry cream latte. It is magnifique.”
Carmella eyed her a moment and smiled. “Okay, thank you.”
Marie raised her hand in a princess wave. “Mike, one large watermelon latte and one large raspberry cream.” She smirked at Carmella. “I’m running out of flavors to try. All I have left is the kiwi and the chocolate, and that last one is disgustingly boring.”
“Isn’t it?” Carmella wrinkled her nose. “I love a good mocha every now and again, if it’s doctored up, but I have a friend who always gets it and always ruins it by ordering it as the fun-free special. You know, no sugar, no fat?”
Marie glowered before biting her lip. It was irrational to be indignant for Naomi’s sake when she agreed wholeheartedly. “What brings you to town?”
“My friend is missing. Naomi Johnson. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”
“Well, it’s been on the news. Our sheriff’s office is at the county seat, but she and her deputies do drive through here, and there’s the highway patrol. If Miss Johnson’s here, one of them will see her, oui?”
“I planned to search on my own.”
“Let’s finish our drinks, then you get to that, and I’ll go riding.” Marie grabbed four Splenda packets and led Carmella to a table. She sat her drink down and twisted the Splenda packets into her latte.
Carmella eyed her and cupped her mouth. “Cable news reports don’t do people justice. Take Naomi. She was the smartest person I’ve ever known. I went to vocational school and was blessed with a good job, but that woman’s got a Master’s degree. She also was a very caring person and funny. We had so many great times together. And now it’s my fault she’s gone.”
“Yours?” Naomi blinked. Or was she Marie?
“She had things good. At work, we were always careful to avoid getting into nasty competitions, but then she left to take a job that made mine seem less important. Then, there were the looks. She was always beautiful but over the last few months, she was transformed. I’d see her at church, then I’d go home and look in the mirror and see my own cellulite. She looked better than ever while I’m getting old.”
“No, you’re not! You look wonderful.”
“Thanks, but I’m getting dumpy and wrinkled and she’s not. I envied her. I tried to starve myself and went on an insane exercise program to get my body close to hers, and it’s still not there. What I was doing was wrong.” Carmella twisted her hair. “That’s why I went on a missions trip. I needed to refocus on God and others and stop obsessing about myself.”
Surely that was a revision of history based on lessons learned while there. Carmella had gorgeous, exciting amber hair. How could she be so insecure, she’d gone thousands of miles to stop negatively comparing herself to her plain, dull friend? Marie glanced at herself. Perhaps she was Naomi. Perhaps, in the process of trying to become everything she thought she should be, she had superimagined herself into someone else.
Carmella hung her head. “So, yeah, I envied her, and it made it hard for me to be there for her and give her the support she deserved. I even forgot to pray for her, and I’d done so daily for ten years. I’ve been worried sick about her since I found out she was missing. And her husband’s worried as well.”
Naomi swallowed. “It is sad, but we’re never as important in reality as people falsely remember us being when we’re gone. He’ll get past that phase, forget her, and find another.”
Carmella shook her head. “If something has happened to her, it’ll crush Dave and her boys.”
Marie jumped up. “I need to go riding. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Wait.”
Marie bolted outside to her horse and swung up onto his back. “We’re going on the horse trail, and you get to run as fast you please.”
Cyrus whinnied with delight and galloped onto the trail.
There would be no way for Carmella to follow her in her SUV and it’d give her time to think and steady herself for tonight.
Powerhouse glided through Mitch Farrow’s office window. He landed before the executive’s desk and folded his arms. “You said you’d help with the search for my CEO.”
Farrow perched behind his desk. “Powerhouse, good to see you. Yes, I can do a media blitz tomorrow, so most people in Wyoming will have the details on her being missing. We’ll play it up big, every newscast. I can arrange a dozen radio interviews for you. We’ll keep them short, so it doesn’t interrupt your search. Any questions?”
“Why are you doing this?”
Farrow spread his arms like he was offering a hug. “Hey, man, we’ve had our differences, but I know how much you care about ‘Mama Johnson,’ and I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. If that doesn’t work for you, a prominent Seattle citizen’s in trouble, and I want to help.”
That had to mean he was only in it for the publicity, but if it got Naomi back. “Fair enough.”
“Good, let’s go ahead and talk about plans.”
Dave Johnson’s cell phone rang. Powerhouse x-rayed the compartment on his chest where the cell phone was. There was no number on caller ID. Probably just a telemarketer.
The phone went to voice mail.
Powerhouse cleared his throat. “Farrow, do you have a list? Should I call the stations or will they call me?”
“First, let me figure out the schedule.”
“Hold on.” He growled and x-rayed the text message. It said, “If you want to see your wife alive, answer, Powerhouse.” What? How could someone know his secret identity? He’d been more careful with it than the golden age Superman. Then again, that wasn’t saying all that much. Powerhouse pointed at an oak inner door. “Can I use the private office over there to take a call?”
“That’s a bathroom, metal head.” Farrow chuckled. “Sure.”
Powerhouse ran in the bathroom and closed the door. Dave’s cell phone rang. He picked up.
Naomi’s voice screamed, “Dave, help!”
She was alive. His heart leapt. “Naomi!”
A muffled man’s voice said, “Hello, Powerhouse, this is the Pharaoh.”
Bile stirred in his stomach. “You’re mistaken. This is Dave Johnson.”
“Fool, I have proof, and your wife confirmed it, after some persuasion.”
“You fiend!”
“Spare me the Saturday Morning cartoon banter. Return to your house in Bryerton to await further instructions. I know you are in Mitch Farrow’s office. If you disobey me, I’ll know. If you call the police or bring any of your super friends in on this, or the Powerhouse Squad, I’ll know. Disobey my orders, and you’ll never see your wife alive again. Farewell.”
Gotta obey. Powerhouse left the room. “Mr. Farrow, your assistance may not be required, after all, but thank you for offering.”
He jumped out of the window and rocketed towards Bryerton.
Naomi knelt by a stream as herself, staring at the cool water. Staying disguised as Marie Dubois for extended periods of time had been messing her up psychologically, but Carmella was way wrong. The kids wouldn’t care. Dave wouldn’t care. Carmella wouldn’t care, except about how to calculate how this made her better than Naomi. How could Carmella be jealous? She had it all together all the time. She was making that up. She had to be. But why?
A horse stopped behind her. Carmella dismounted. “Hey, girl.”
“How did you find me?”
“Easily. You’re a glamour girl around here. You left a big impression on the people you passed on the way, Naomi—or should I say Marie?”
“What makes you think I’m her? We look nothing alike.”
“You’re more than your looks.” Carmella got off the horse. “Dave told me about a woman who tried to hit on him, in a way that didn’t make sense. I recalled what you’d said about Dave’s backup superpower cuffs and figured it’d be worth looking into. I thought I’d taken a big drive for nothing until you took all four packets of Splenda, twisted them open and into your drink.”
She laughed. “The way only Naomi does.” She knelt, cleared the dirt by Naomi and slid in beside her. “So what are you doing here?”
Naomi took a deep breath. “It all started when I borrowed a spare cuff from the locked box Zolgron had given us. I was struggling with cleaning and thought it’d help. It did more than that. I can manipulate matter at a thought. Clothes, change to a green pants suit.”
Her outfit morphed into a tasteful green suit with matching flats.
Carmella blinked. “Impressive.”
“I can also run really fast, I’m strong, and I can talk to animals.”
Carmella arched her brows. “That’s not something Dave can do.”
“The cuff seems to work best upon our individual talents. My parents suppressed it, so you might not know this, but I have a way with animals. Dave has a wild imagination. I don’t, so my superimagination is far more limited. I can shape shift; I can modify, control, teleport, and dematerialize existing, non-living things, but I can’t create something out of nothing. Unless we count me commanding something I’d dematerialized to come back.”
“Mm. Are your shapeshifting skills limited to beauty maintenance?”
Naomi nodded sheepishly and rushed on to relating the events of the summer. She finished, “Here, as Marie Dubois, I’m special and valued. I make a difference for people and animals. In Seattle, Naomi Johnson is a boring ball and chain at best and a liability at worst. So I’m going to fake my death and return as the exciting Marie Dubois, AKA Justice Woman. I’ll crash the van into a ravine, then woo Dave, and he’ll have a fascinating wife.”
“We both ought to know you could return as the responsible, reliable Naomi Johnson AKA the exciting, mysterious Justice Woman, so you must be avoiding the real issue, girl.” Carmella leaned in. “What can Marie Dubois give your boys that Naomi Johnson can’t?”
“An exciting mother that they’ll care about.” She sobbed onto Carmella’s shoulder. “My babies don’t need or want me anymore!”
Carmella embraced Naomi. “Honey, your plan has a few problems. For one thing, what are you going to do for a living?”
“I could teach French History.”
“How? Marie doesn’t have Naomi’s Master’s Degree in French History. She also doesn’t have a Social Security number, a birth certificate, or even a Green Card. If Powerhouse ever met her, he’d probably try to deport her to France only to learn they haven’t ever heard of her, either.”
“Don’t be silly. I can superimagine my documents into ones for Marie. ”
Carmella wrinkled her nose “You’re talking about faking your death and magically forging legal documents, and I’m trying to talk you out of it, and I’m the one being silly? Do you really want the life of a criminal and a fraud?”
Not to mention the insanity. Naomi shuddered. “But what good is being Naomi Johnson when Dave and the kids both forget about me?”
“Your value is defined by God, not by them. Yes, Dave’s job took over, but a bunch of people gave him a long sit down about prioritizing his life. He’ll be better, and he does miss you. As for the boys, they’re stupid, particularly at that age. They’re growing up and trying to be independent, and nothing says, ‘dependent’ like long letters home to Mommy.”
“It hurts.”
“I know it. Manny did the same thing to me, but it’s our job to be their moms, not their cool friend. They don’t really want us to be that, either. They want you to be someone they can still depend on when life gets rougher than they can handle on their own.”
“And I guess their mom faking a fatal car wreck wouldn’t make them happy.” Naomi sighed. “It’s just my life is nothing like I ever imagined it’d be. When I was growing up, I wanted to be a cowgirl like Annie Oakley.”
“I thought you wanted to teach French History.”
Naomi smiled. “My women’s studies professor assured me that women can have it all. Of course, she also said I shouldn’t choose to have children until I was sure I was ready to be a terrific mom. She said that would require also doing right by myself and maintaining a great romance and achieving greatness in my dream career and in every hobby I might fancy.”
Carmella laughed. “Why do we set impossible standards for ourselves? There’s not enough hours in the day to do all of those things and do them well. Doing anything well takes sacrifice. As a child, I got into lots of trouble in the hours I was left alone while my mom chased her dreams, goals, and the romantic flavor of the month. She never did better than mediocre in any area. Given I wasn’t a planned pregnancy, can you look me in the eye and claim that your women’s studies professor wouldn’t say that my mother’s mistake was failing to sacrifice me?”
“Can you say you don’t feel like you were sacrificed to a degree?” Naomi stared at the floor. “Sometimes, we fear we’ve made the wrong sacrifices.”
Carmella touched her stomach. “Sometimes we know it, deeply regret it, and thank God for forgiving us. Sometimes we wonder if we failed to make the right sacrifices, but all we can do is pray and seek wisdom and enjoy what we have. We can’t have it all, but we can have everything God has for us.”
“He’s probably angry and disappointed in me.”
“To anger God, you’d have to never give Christ a sin and never accept the grace you need to stop doing it. To be disappointed, God wou
ld have to not know the end from the beginning. When you disappeared, I was shocked, and Dave was shocked, but God wasn’t. He knew.”
Naomi cried. “What’s wrong with me? It must be the cuff.”
“If it acts upon what you’ve already got, the worst it could be accused of is allowing more dangerous ways to act on how you felt.” Carmella put her hand on her hip. “Am I going to call Dave, or are you calling him?”
“I’d rather surprise him.”
“Girl, don’t be an idiot. He’s half out of his mind with worry.”
“We need to talk in person. It’ll help if I have the element of surprise.”
“No, it won’t, at least not as much as it could hurt. Call him.”
“Fine, but first I’ve got to wrap up things here, get my rent and Cyrus’ stable bill paid and say goodbye to a couple folks. I should be back in Seattle by tonight, though.”
After collecting her dog from the vet and taking her home. Well, she’d transfer her to a veterinary hospital closer to home anyway. That only delayed trying to explain her playing dog whisperer to her husband, though.
Naomi swallowed. Tonight, she’d settle things with Dave and begin her own healing process.
Mitch Farrow entered the Pharaoh’s underground lair.
Naomi Johnson’s voice came from behind the desk. “Help! Save me, Powerhouse.”
Pharaoh’s synthesized voice came. “Powerhouse will never save you. Mwuhahaha.”
Face hot, Farrow facepalmed. “Varlock! My voice synthesizer isn’t a toy.”
“That’s not true,” Varlock said as he popped up from behind the desk. He waggled his tongue. “This voice synthesizer is sold as a toy. You’re just not opting to use it as such.”
Farrow cleared his throat. “Move. I’ve got to call our pigeon.”
Varlock backed away. “I didn’t know birds had telephones.”
Farrow shook his head, donned Pharaoh’s head dress, and dialed Dave Johnson’s cell phone. Pharaoh flipped his voice synthesizer to his modification of his normal voice. “You are to proceed to a warehouse in Seattle. I will text you the address.”