Mascot to the Rescue!

by Peter David

  “Well…at least you lived to realize your mistake.”

  “I haven’t talked to anybody about this,” Zack said. “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

  “I’m full of surprises.”

  She slumped back, her head on the seat headrest. “Look, Zack…I’m sorry I didn’t rein in my son more. This really is all his fault. Maybe…maybe we really should keep the two of them apart from now on.”

  “Yeah, because parents trying to keep kids from seeing each other…that always works,” he said, smiling. “Look, I may be overprotective, and jumpy, and judgmental, and kind of harsh—but I’m not stupid. We have to set guidelines, rules…but…”

  “But we have to trust our kids.”

  “Yes. And trust that they have the good sense to know right from wrong.”

  “Well…did you ever consider that maybe you gave Kelsey such a sense of right and wrong that, when she saw Josh was in need, she felt it would be wrong not to do everything she could to help him?”

  “I…”

  He took his eyes off the road long enough to look at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Then he quickly went back to watching the road. “Your husband left you, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Man’s an idiot…if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  She smiled. “I don’t mind at all.”

  CHAPTER 13

  MASCOT CORNERED

  Paul was sitting on a bench in a small park, staring miserably at the children in a playground nearby. Kelsey was seated next to him, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder, while Josh crouched in front of him. “It’s not your fault,” Josh said.

  “Yes, it is.” Paul groaned. “I said I’d bring you there. But we have to take the bus. I always take the bus from the train station. But we can’t get to the train station now, and I don’t know where else the bus is.”

  “It’s going to be okay. We can still work this out,” Josh told him. “Look…you know the address, right?”

  “Yes, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone….”

  Kelsey spoke carefully. “Okay, Paul, that’s true. But you are allowed to go there, right? Well…certainly if you were lost, you could tell someone the address if they were going to take you there, couldn’t you?”

  “I…” He considered that. “I guess.”

  “Okay, well…we can take a taxi there. You tell the taxi driver where you want to go, and he can take us there.”

  “You really think so?” His face and mood were brightening considerably. “He’ll do that?”

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Paul’s sadness vanished, and minutes later they were walking along the street, trying to find a taxi.

  It took them a little while, because Northchester was not exactly New York City, and there weren’t yellow cabs cruising by the dozens. Eventually, though, they spotted a white car with a checker design running along the side, and the words MAJESTIC CABS painted on it. Kelsey raised a hand and gesticulated fiercely. The cab, which had been about to pass them by, practically screeched to a halt. The three of them bounded into it, squeezing into the backseat.

  A young woman was at the wheel. She had a broad face and a gap between her front teeth. “I thought you were going to throw your shoulder out waving like that, young lady.”

  Then she looked at the three of them. Really looked.

  Mascot is instantly suspicious. There is something in the cab driver’s face that strikes him as odd. Almost as if she has recognized them somehow. But that should not be possible. He is in his secret identity, not wearing his costume or mask, and Large Lass and Waistline are similarly in civilian disguise.

  “We need to go to…” Paul glanced in either direction at Josh and Kelsey, since he was seated between them, and then dropped his voice to a whisper and said, “Number fifteen Mills Street.”

  “Got it,” the cab driver whispered back.

  “Mills Street?” Kelsey turned to Josh. “Josh! That has to be where he got the last name for Mascot’s secret identity! From his own street name! See? Coincidences happen!”

  Josh was barely listening. Instead, as the cab pulled away from the curb, he was paying attention to the cab driver. It was a little hard to hear her because there was a plastic partition, a shield, mounted between the seats, separating the backseat from the front. She picked up a microphone attached to a squawk box and said, “Dispatcher, this is cab three, en route to fifteen Mills Street.”

  A voice came back from the box, and it sounded startled. “You found—?”

  “En route!” she said, so quickly that she interrupted him.

  “Right. Okay. Got you, cab three.”

  It’s a trap! How could he have been so blind! “Majestic” cabs. A woman driver. Obviously this is a front for one of Captain Major’s oldest foes, Madame Majestic.

  Large Lass and Waistline don’t notice. But Mascot doesn’t hesitate. Immediate action must be taken.

  He yanks on the door release. It doesn’t open. “Unlock this right now!” he demands.

  “Where do you think you’re going, hon?” says the cab driver, sounding like she’s his best friend in the world. Ohhh, she’s good. She’s very good. Smooth as glass. “We’re nowhere near Mills yet.”

  “Pull over and let us out!”

  “What’s wrong?” asks Large Lass, and Waistline is starting to look concerned.

  “She’s in with them! She works for Madame Majestic!”

  “Hon,” says the driver, “I don’t know anyone like—”

  “Tell them the truth! Right now!”

  “Honey, this has really got to—”

  Mascot starts hammering on the partition. “Pull over! Now! Let us out!”

  “It’s for your own good,” she shouts back, dropping any pretense. “And stop hitting that! It—”

  “You hear that?” Mascot shouts desperately. “She’s with the bad guys!” He continues to pound on the shield. It shudders but holds.

  “There’s no bad guys! Okay, look, the police put out an all-points on you three! They told the bus drivers, cabbies. There’s probably a police car waiting for you at the address you’re going to! So sit down and stay—”

  “We’ve got to get out of here, right now!” Mascot bellows.

  “You got it,” says Waistline. He leans forward, cocks his fist, and drives it forward.

  The shield has no chance. Waistline knocks it right out of its frame and it falls forward, crashing down on the driver.

  She lets out an alarmed yell and slams the car to a halt. A screeching of brakes tells them that a car has nearly rear-ended them. It goes around them, honking, the driver shaking his fist as he passes. Meantime, Mascot leaps forward. The driver is pressed forward under the combined weight of Mascot and the shield. She grunts, trying to sit up, but she’s pinned. Mascot sees the unlock button mounted on her door. He reaches out and thumbs it, and the doors unlock.

  They clamber out of the car onto the sidewalk. The driver throws open her door and shouts, “All right, you little—” Then she stops, her eyes widen. “Don’t shoot me!” she suddenly cries out. She leaps back into the car, and the taxi peels out so fast that the tires leave rubber marks on the asphalt.

  They were left standing in downtown Northchester. There were assorted small shops, but most of them were closed because they catered to tourists, and this wasn’t tourist season.

  “Don’t shoot me?” said Josh, bewildered. “What was she talking ab—”

  “Josh!” Kelsey pointed.

  Josh looked down. His Windbreaker had ridden up in the back, and the gun butt was visible.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding!” said Kelsey in annoyance. “Why are you still carrying that around?”

  Josh pulled it out from his belt. “It’s perfectly safe,” he said defensively.

  “It is not safe! You saw what it did to that dog. It’s as not safe as you can get! If nothing else, it could go off accidentally and hurt someone, especially if you
hit them in the face. You should never have taken it!”

  “It’s not going to go off accidentally!” Josh assured her, trying to flip it into his other hand to demonstrate his command of it.

  The gun went off.

  Fortunately, it was pointed at the wall of a building. A red splotch appeared on it.

  “Whoops,” Josh said. Then he frowned. “Why is the wall bleeding?”

  “It’s not bleeding, doofus. It’s more red paint.”

  “Red…” He stared at his “weapon.” “It’s a paint gun?”

  “Of course it’s a paint gun. What, you couldn’t tell? It makes a whole different noise from regular guns.”

  “Sure I could tell,” Josh said defensively. “So…those guys in the forest…”

  “What, did you think they were really mercs?” asked Kelsey. “With paint guns? They were probably guys playing war games or something.”

  “No way,” Josh said firmly. He turned the gun over and over, studying it. “It’s just that they wanted to take us alive. Maybe the paint has radioactive trace elements that would have let them track us once we were marked….”

  “Josh!” Kelsey stomped her foot in irritation. “Of all the—”

  She took the paint gun from his grasp and chucked it into a nearby trash can.

  That was when they heard the police siren nearby.

  “Aw no,” said Josh.

  Paul was looking extremely nervous. “I’m gonna get in so much trouble. Joe’s gonna be so mad at me if I get arrested….”

  “Maybe they’re not coming for us,” said Kelsey, but she wasn’t convincing anybody, even herself. For a moment she considered just giving up, but she thought of how much trouble she’d get in with her father if he found out what she’d been up to.

  It had all seemed like a good idea at the time, and Josh had been so scared and so desperate and he’d needed her help. She’d figured that she could pull it off without her dad being any the wiser. If he found out…if she wound up being arrested and they called her dad and he had to come up to Northchester to get her…she’d be grounded for the rest of her life.

  So when Josh shouted, “This way!” rather than do the smart thing and just wait for the police car and call it a day, she ran after him. Paul didn’t hesitate; he followed right behind.

  They sprinted down the street, running past assorted closed stores, including the local library, which was open only until noon during the week. They got to the corner and skidded to a halt when Josh realized to his horror that he’d messed up. The echoes had fooled him: He’d thought the police car was coming from behind them, but no. It was coming toward them.

  Even from this distance, he could see that it was being driven by the police officer who’d been looking for them at the train station. And he looked reeeeeaally annoyed.

  The police car obviously had a loudspeaker on it, because his voice boomed over it. “Put the gun down, kid! Put it down and put your hands over your head!”

  Kelsey looked to Josh, bewildered. “How…how did he…?”

  “The cab driver must have radioed it in,” said Josh.

  “We already threw it away,” and Kelsey…

  …is obviously about to shout that to the police officer, but Mascot suddenly takes charge. “Down that way,” Mascot orders. He points to his right. “Head that way and circle back around on the other side. I’ll meet you there after I draw off our pursuer.”

  “What are you talking about? How are you going to do that?”

  “He thinks I’m armed. I’m the one he’ll come after. Look, we’re out of time. He can’t chase both of us, and he’ll think I’m the most dangerous. Go! Go!”

  Large Lass hesitates only a moment, and then she and Waistline bolt down the street. Mascot turns and runs as if his life depends on it.

  His legs are a blur, scissoring as fast as they can. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that the police car is following him. He can hear it.

  “Hold it, son!” It is the voice of the police officer, coming over the loudspeaker. He sounds annoyed. “Stop running!”

  Mascot doesn’t cooperate. He keeps going. The police car is following, although it’s moving slowly now since all it has to do is keep up with a kid on foot.

  He skids to a halt in front of the library and turns to face the police officer. The police car slows, stops; the officer gets out. He has not pulled his own gun; it remains holstered, but his hand is hovering near it. The expression on his face makes it clear that the last thing he wants to do is draw it. “Where’s the gun, son?”

  Mascot points toward the garbage can. “Down there. We already tossed it, and anyway it was just a paint gun.”

  The cop lets out a sigh. “It was the one from those idiots in the woods. Okay, that’s a relief. Now come on, son…there’s plenty of people worried about you and your friends.”

  Mascot almost feels sorry for him. The cop cannot possibly know that he is being manipulated by forces beyond his understanding—evil supervillains who have conspired to drive a wedge between two of the foremost fighters for good and the forces of the law. When all this is over, and Captain Major and Mascot have triumphed—as they inevitably will—Mascot is going to be sure to send the police officers a nice gift. Maybe a box of cookies or something like that.

  “All right now, son,” says the cop.

  “Stop calling me ‘son,’” Mascot says angrily. “I’m not your son.”

  “Okay. Fine.” He no longer has his hand near his gun as he walks toward Mascot. “Now…enough’s enough. There’s a lot of people worried about you.”

  Oh, most certainly there are. The assembled hordes of bad guys must be terrified that Mascot will somehow survive their perfidi…their prefiedi…their evil plans. They’re doubtless hoping that Mascot will now surrender. In doing so, he’ll make himself an easy target, locked in a jail cell that they can turn into a death trap with no problem.

  “Sorry,” Mascot says airily. “Time for me to book.”

  He spins and grabs the large metal drawer that’s built into the wall of the library behind him: the deposit slot where people can return books when the library is closed. Fortunately the town made it extra large so it would be easier to return oversize art books or even stacks of books. Even more fortunately, Mascot is very thin, and very bendable. He yanks it open and slides in.

  The cop yells and covers the remaining distance between them in a few quick strides. Mascot’s front half slides in easy enough, but before he can yank his legs through, the cop grabs his ankle. Mascot is squirming furiously, however, and he manages to kick free before the cop can get a solid hold. He slides through the slot and tumbles headfirst into a cart that’s been set up to catch returned books. The cart tumbles over, spilling Mascot and several recently returned volumes to the floor.

  He hears a pounding on the front glass doors. He sees the police officer standing there, thudding his fists furiously and shouting something. Mascot guesses that it’s nothing flattering. The cop yanks on the doors, but they remain securely locked. He yells in frustration, but the sound is muffled. Mascot has a feeling that the Comics Code Authority wouldn’t approve some of the words the police officer is shouting.

  Mascot turns and dashes across the library floor. There is, just as he’d hoped, a back door. It’s locked from the outside in, but nothing’s preventing him from heading out. There’s a large push bar across the middle, and he shoves against it without slowing down. The door springs open, and Mascot bounds into the street on the other side of the building.

  He looks around frantically, trying to spot Large Lass and Waistline. There’s no sign of them. For a heartbeat he panics, worried that they may be in the clutches of the forces of evil….

  “Josh!”

  Josh didn’t see where the voice was coming from at first, and then he spotted it. Directly across the street, in front of a pizza parlor, there was a small cargo van with the pizza parlor’s logo on the side. Obviously it was a delivery van. The
back doors were open. He couldn’t see Kelsey, but her hand was sticking out, waving frantically.

  Josh glanced right and left and then dashed across the street. He clambered into the back of the van and swung the doors shut behind them.

  Paul and Kelsey were crouched inside. They were a tight fit, but it was manageable. They stayed where they were, not moving, hardly daring to breathe. They heard the police siren coming around the corner. Kelsey and Paul both looked frightened, and it was everything Josh could do to maintain what he hoped was a look of focused, steely resolve. The police siren approached and came right near them…and then kept going. It sailed on down the street and soon was receding into the distance.

  They let out a collective sigh.

  “Okay, so now what?” asked Kelsey.

  “We get out and get to Stan Kirby.”

  “How?” Paul said.

  Josh tried to come up with something, but his mind was blank. Buses, cabs, every regular method of transport was closed to them. They could walk, but Paul didn’t seem to have a clear idea of how to get there on foot, and the chances of the police spotting them were huge.

  Paul sighed and leaned back against the inside of the truck. “Too bad we’re not pizzas. We could just get ourselves delivered there.”

  “Yeah,” said Kelsey, “we’d just call in and get brought…there….”

  Her voice trailed off as Josh’s eyes widened. So did Kelsey’s.

  “That’s brilliant,” said Josh. “That’s…that’s brilliant.”

  “There’s a pay phone just down the corner,” said Kelsey, grabbing at her pockets. “I’ve got change. The phone number is on the front of the building.”

  “I don’t understand,” Paul said, looking confused. “What are we doing? What’s going on?”

  “You just came up with a brilliant plan to get us to Stan Kirby,” Josh said cheerfully as Kelsey handed him a fistful of quarters. “We should be there in thirty minutes or less. And hey…if we’re not, we’re free.”