Ultimate Mid-life Crisis

by Adam Graham

“It might ruin my cooking mood.”

  Dave let out a low growl. “Go down to the basement. I’ve not seen my wife in weeks. I’d love to talk to you, but later!”

  Zolgron glanced between Dave and Naomi. His eyes lit up. “Oh! Right. My apologies.”

  Naomi’s cheeks warmed.

  Zolgron beat a hasty path to the door.

  Naomi yawned and glanced over at her washed-out vomit bucket. Stupid interdimensional travel. “Dave, I’m tired. Could we take a rain check?”

  “Oh.” He sagged, crestfallen, and sighed. “I guess.”

  Naomi grinned, her heart fluttering. He was not only disappointed, he wasn’t too busy to be disappointed. “Why don’t we cuddle?”

  “Sure, and I’ll read you something romantic.” Dave left the room.

  Naomi smiled and relaxed on the couch. Whatever happened to him had really changed him, made him more serious, more understanding of her needs.

  A minute later, Dave returned with a book, plopped next to Naomi, and drew her into his arms.

  She glanced at the cover of her promised romantic reading material.

  Superman: The Wedding Album.

  Chapter 29

  Two Reunions

  Joshua Speed escorted Arlene Johnson to a pew towards the back of the church. He checked the revolver in his shoulder holster and glanced back. This should be secure, provided the KGB or his other enemies didn’t decide to make trouble tonight.

  Arlene said, “When was the last time you’d been to a concert?”

  Nothing like this. Joshua bit his lip. “I saw a few USO shows during the Big One.”

  “This is different. Wanda Malloy has blessed a lot of people. I’m glad you could make it. How have things been going?”

  Joshua leaned back. He’d rescued four political prisoners from a Russian prison camp, foiled a Communist takeover attempt in Cuba, smuggled Bibles into Romania, stopped radical domestic communists from stealing American nuclear secrets, and went down South and saved a colored man from being lynched. “Fine.”

  “You can tell me more than that.”

  “No, I can’t have you knowing too much. I do check the sports pages, though I never knew too much about golf.”

  “I’m not winning any tourneys, but I’m paying my expenses and funding my son’s nurse. Though, I wish—” Arlene wet her lips. “Never mind.”

  Joshua tensed. She didn’t have to say it. She wished she could be home with her son, but she couldn’t be, thanks to him.

  Arlene swallowed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

  “It’s okay.” Joshua shook his head. “I miss him, too.”

  A bald pastor stood in a black suit and a red tie. “Welcome to the night of singing and worship. Let’s pray. Lord, bless this time where you have allowed us to come and be blessed by your servant. I pray that you would anoint Sister Wanda as she comes and sings for us. Bless your people to be led by your Spirit. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  Joshua opened his eyes.

  The pastor said, “This concert is free, but we will be taking an offering that will benefit our missionaries in India. Now let me go ahead and turn you over to Sister Wanda Malloy.”

  Stepping up to the microphone in a smart blue skirt suit was a blond woman. “For my first song, I’ll sing These are the Days of Elijah.”

  Her voice came out confident and beautiful.

  Odd. He’d heard something like this back in the 21st Century. Maybe Wanda was the one who wrote it. He eyed Wanda Malloy. She looked almost exactly like Karen Jerome except her hair was a tad longer and more even.

  She sang both new and old songs for about an hour, then said, “Thank you. I want to acknowledge a true American hero in our midst, Major Speed. He’s been helping so many people and even helping our persecuted brethren overseas as he fights the threat of communism. I’d like us to think of him and all those like him as we sing our final song.”

  The congregation applauded.

  Joshua’s mouth dropped. How did she know? True enough, he couldn’t avoid all publicity, but his work was mostly covert. How had she recognized him? Communists weren’t everywhere and were almost certainly not here, but he didn’t want his work advertised.

  As the crowd dispersed, the pastor approached him. “Brother Joshua, Ms. Malloy wanted to have a word with you in my office.”

  That made two of them, but the last thing he or Ms. Malloy needed were gossips making something out of their meeting that it wasn’t. “I’ll be happy to meet with her, with Arlene present.” He glanced at her. “If you don’t mind coming with me?”

  Arlene nodded. “Of course.”

  “Ms. Malloy will be in as soon as she finishes greeting the crowd.” The pastor led them into his office and departed.

  A few minutes later, Ms. Malloy entered and shook his hand. “Major, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Joshua dipped his head “It was a blessing to hear your beautiful music.”

  Wanda blushed. “Thank you.”

  “About mentioning my work. I appreciate you intended to honor me, but my work has to remain as anonymous as possible. So please don’t call me out again, particularly when I’m in civilian clothes.”

  Wanda covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to cause you any problems. I always seem to mess these things up.” Her lip quivered.

  Joshua blinked. This was so very much like Karen. “What’s done is done. God will take care of me, but there’s no need to make protecting me harder.”

  Arlene cleared her throat. “I’d better go. The babysitter has homework .”

  “I’ll drive you,” Joshua said.

  Arlene put up a hand. “I can catch a cab. Why don’t you two go to the diner down the street and get some coffee?”

  Alone with a woman? Suppose it’d be in public. Joshua smiled. “Okay.”

  Ms. Malloy smiled. “That’s great. I hope they have a good Frappe.”

  Joshua blinked. “What’s a Frappe?”

  “Oh.” Ms. Malloy cringed. “It’s like a milkshake blended with a cup of coffee, but I can stick with the normal coffee.”

  Those were drinks that didn’t belong together. He took her arm and escorted her out of the church. She was beautiful and so was her music, but she was hiding something. There was no way she was a spy for the Russians, but what was her angle? He had to find out.

  Dave Johnson strode through the deserted house in a pair of blue jeans and a Mariners’ t-shirt. “Naomi, Zolgron?”

  Where were they? He headed out to the garage.

  Naomi was saying, “What if this has done long-term damage?”

  Zolgron responded. “It seems passing through the dimensional barrier twice within a few hours is not advisable, but my scans indicate no structural damage. Give it a day, and it should be corrected. Powerhouse must be fine since his trips were separated by several days. Well, he also had his armor.”

  Dave waved at them. “Hey, guys. What were you talking about?”

  Naomi blinked. “Um, interdimensional travel.”

  Zolgron cleared his throat. “Yes, we were talking about Justice Woman and the effects of her passing through the dimensional barrier twice in a short period of time.”

  Dave grinned. “She’s too awesome for it to bother her! If she were in pain, she’d probably just throw something big and heavy at it.”

  Naomi laughed. “Don’t you have her mixed up with Chuck Norris?”

  “No, I’m her huge fan, not his.” Anymore.

  Naomi reddened. “But you are a superhero.”

  “So? I can still admire the other cool folks donning costumes to fight crime. For instance, I also admire Captain France’s fights against terrorism in Europe. I’m just glad to be in the same class as these guys. How can I not be a fan of a lady who punches monsters?”

  “As long as you’re just a fan.”

  He was making her jealous. Dave gulped. “Zolgron, was there any results of your study?”

&nb
sp; Zolgron shrugged. “Varlock was an alien, though I’m not familiar with the species. He had received numerous surgeries to alter his appearance, but his basic genetics weren’t altered as far as I can tell. As for the overseer, Sid, the results are somewhat surprising. Sid was human.”

  “What?” Dave blinked. “How’s that possible?”

  Zolgron said, “You said they had come from across the barrier.”

  “Yeah, but not from Earth! They have scaly skin!”

  “Despite such genetic modifications, I must conclude his ancestors came from Earth.”

  Naomi touched Dave’s elbow. “That would explain why English was the language of the mine workers.”

  Zolgron nodded. “Your country’s history has stories of lost colonists. Based on the mine workers’ genetics, they may very well be descended from English people.”

  Dave narrowed his eyes at Zolgron and Naomi. “Who said anything as unlikely as English being the language of the mine workers.”

  Zolgron and Naomi glanced at each other.

  Naomi wet her lips. “I thought you could understand everyone. The aliens probably don’t speak English when we’re not around, but the suit doesn’t have any translating devices.”

  Powerhouse had heard the aliens talking in another language, but he still hadn’t mentioned that. “We didn’t need one at the alien zoo. Right, Zolgron?”

  Zolgron cleared his throat. “Sid has the forty-six chromosomes, and the vast majority are consistent with homo sapiens. Before, you ask Homo—”

  Dave glared. “I’ve read X-men. I know what Homo sapiens are.”

  “Right, anyway, it’s as if someone took a computer operating system and altered the graphical user interface. A programmer could tell much of the core programming was the same. Of course, it would take a genius to figure it out. Fortunately for you, I’m on hand.”

  “You’re humble too.” Naomi laughed. She kissed Dave on the cheek. “I have to go email the board.” She headed into the house.

  Zolgron smiled. “I was stating a fact. I’d join Mensa, but they’re not up to my mental caliber. Anyway, the genetic code has been hacked and minor changes made, to create a slightly different appearance, most notably the removal of coloration and changes to skin texture.”

  Dave stuck out his tongue. “That seems to be one of King Bel’s themes: blandness, lack of color, lack of beauty. It’s not what I expected of the devil.”

  “I doubt he is such, though there is little doubt he works for the Creator’s archnemesis, the Evil One who brings suffering to all the universe.”

  “Well, it was violent enough, but from what I’ve heard in church, I’d expect a planet that a demon ran to be full of all kinds of sexual stuff and evil music, too.”

  Zolgron said, “Pleasures are the Creator’s invention. All demons do is twist them, which risks backfiring and pointing people towards the Creator. Why play with something dangerous when you can teach people to fight and kill each other to get their eyes poked out? Plus the Evil One and his servants are sadists to the core.”

  Dave scratched his head. In the comics it was Christianity that had an anti-fun policy. He’d met some Christians who had one in real life, too. “That’s different in comics.”

  Zolgron nodded. “Unfortunately, one thing they got right is an evil being having designs on this planet and the technology to get here. We’ll need as many allies as we can muster when the time comes. I’ll be making a few contingency plans and reaching out to some key people. However, right now, I need you to dispose of the remains and go to Paris. Clearly the alien King Bel was bothered by your ordinary work as Powerhouse, so carry on.”

  “I can do that.” Dave smiled. “Did you find a small box in Sid’s pocket?” “The one that contained a cigarette?”

  “I’ll want that and the box. Naomi purchased a plot for Sid Johnson in Seattle and we’ll get him buried. Then I’ll have one stop to make before I leave for Paris. Deliver your findings on Varlock to Lieutenant Colonel Snyder in Fort Lewis. He can have whatever’s left of Varlock, but don’t tell him about Sid. I don’t want the military digging him up.”

  Mitch Farrow stomped into his CEO office. He gagged as he looked at the headline of the Seattle Guardian.

  Even his paper couldn’t avoid reporting on Powerhouse’s triumphant return to Seattle and his speaking to 69,000 people at CenturyLink Field. The attempts to mitigate it? Pathetic. The headline read, “Powerhouse Restores Office of Edmonson Bank Employee Terminated for Misconduct.” Mitch rolled his eyes. “Lame.”

  He smiled at another headline. “What Was Powerhouse Really Doing?”

  This article speculated on where Powerhouse was, quoting men on the street who said they didn’t believe Powerhouse had been abducted but rather had been enjoying illicit pleasures. Sure, this article walked the line on libel, but at least Powerhouse cynics had some encouragement.

  Farrow flopped at his desk. The computer beeped and a cherubic face appeared against a rainbow backdrop. Farrow knelt. “King Bel, what can I do for my sovereign lord?”

  King Bel intoned, “The escape of Powerhouse has been determined to not be your responsibility.”

  Farrow blinked. That was nice, since he was in another dimension when the escape happened. Must constrain sarcasm. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “The escape occurred as a result of Powerhouse beguiling our men. They have been dealt with, but Powerhouse will tell many lies against us in his comic book. I gather that he said little about his experience in his speech?”

  “Yes, all he said was he had been through an ordeal after falling into the hands of his enemies. He credited his imaginary God and the prayers of people for him with his survival and escape from what he called a hellish situation.”

  King Bel’s cherubic visage frowned. “It is so unfortunate he promotes belief in a vengeful, Bronze Age deity. Such thinking holds back science and keeps humanity in chains. We shall liberate them, Mitch. Pay little attention to his lies, and do what you can to discredit his comic’s attempts to slander us.”

  “It’ll be done.” Farrow grunted. “My king, it isn’t your fault brainwashed fanatics like Powerhouse need unpleasant deprogramming to get their minds reattached to reality. You caring enough to try to reform our enemy proves you’re the benevolent hero and he the evil villain.”

  “Thank you for your understanding, vassal.”

  “Your majesty, with the death of Varlock, I need another assistant, and I’d rather not waste any more of your valued servants on my cause. Since Fournier already knows so much about our operations, and he was working on a valuable experiment, I’d like to cancel the contract on his life and bring him back, if he’ll come.”

  “You do require an assistant who isn’t in the dark, and it is risky to reveal ourselves, so very well. Bring him back, if his assassin has failed.”

  “He’ll want assurances he won’t have another contract put out on him.”

  King Bel frowned. “This operation is about more than one man.”

  “It requires loyal individuals to carry it out. People who fear being killed when the mission is complete aren’t loyal.”

  “Very well, assure him that, as long as his loyalty is not in question, his life will continue, again, if you can find him. Now, I must go.”

  The computer beeped and its screen darkened.

  Farrow leaned back. Hopefully, the assassin hadn’t wiped out Fournier yet. Of course, he’d chosen the worst assassin he could get without arousing suspicion. Fournier was resourceful and could be anywhere on earth, though. It’d be tough to find him.

  Something crashed in the outer office.

  The door swung open.

  Fournier entered wearing red and white striped pants and a white sports coat with red trim over a matching white sweater vest with red trim. A stick of rancid celery stuck out of his pocket.

  He held an oversized .45 revolver. “If you don’t want unpleasant info to come out about why I’ve had to kill a man in self-
defense, you’ll reinstate me and promise I won’t be hunted down again as long as I remain on staff here. Also, I need access to my experiments. You have thirty seconds to decide.”

  “Okay.”

  Fournier blinked. “That simple?”

  “Yes, by the way, that’s your best outfit yet, but that celery stinks.”

  “I forgot it after I went to a Doctor Who Convention in 2011. When I fled, I had to limit my luggage, and I ended up grabbing my Doctor Who Cosplay outfits by mistake.”

  Farrow put up his hand. “Throw that out where I won’t have to smell it, then go check on your experiments downstairs.”

  “Will do. By the way, your secretary’s unconscious but she’ll wake up, eventually.”

  “No problem, I’ve already had to hire a new one, and he can start any time, but let’s try not to beat him up. I had to pay off the gal that’s quitting. She has her panties all in a twist, claiming no woman ever should have to get used to being physically assaulted at work.”

  “Ouch.” Fournier left.

  Farrow logged into his computer and began checking his email. He reached into his pocket, grabbed a cigarette, and put it to his lips.

  Wind rushed from behind a second before an armored arm snatched away his cigarette.

  Farrow gasped and spun around in his chair.

  Powerhouse had the stolen cigarette as he shook his finger. “No smoking in offices.”

  “How long have you been here?” Farrow’s heart raced. Long enough to see him bowing before King Bel? Long enough to see him rehire Fournier?

  Powerhouse peered at the cigarette. “I’ve gotten better at stealth entry.”

  “Enforcing smoking regulations doesn’t justify breaking and entering.”

  “No but conspiring with an interdimensional alien does.”

  Stay calm. He could be bluffing. Farrow glared. “Just because my company owns companies that publish science fiction doesn’t mean I buy that hooey. You try and sell that story to the FBI.”

  Powerhouse put up his hand. “No use denying it. I heard a rainbow man visited your daughter before she recovered. Rainbow men are from King Bel’s dimension, and I was coming here to test a conclusion.”