“Well, I know this is going to sound strange but I feel trapped right now. Let's go into San Fran. Erik won't care if we take a two hour or three hour lunch. I want to go to the pier and get some fresh clam chowder. You okay with that?”
“Yeah. I'll just blame you if we get in trouble.”
Johnykin explained Carmen's latest test as best she could on the drive over. None of the tests ever seemed simple enough to re-explain but gave them fodder until reaching Pier 39. Even though it was a tourist trap and not the greatest example of the bay's best clam chowder, they stopped at Fog Harbor Fish House. It was busy and wrestling a table for two was more difficult than it should have been, but it all kept Chris somewhat normal while holding in the news about Klaus.
Sitting down, Johnykin was still clattering with joy. “Oh, it smells wonderful. Fishy but not that old fish smell. We have to do this again soon.”
Chris looked for a moment to begin. “Maybe. I know we’re like partners, but I kind of felt we were becoming friends too.”
“Duh, Chris.”
“So, I was wondering if you knew where Klaus and Frank went today?”
“They went somewhere? News to me.” Their number was called and Johnykin jumped up to get it.
The soup smoked and Chris nibbled on the sourdough bread bowl while waiting for the chowder to cool enough to be edible. Johnykin did the same. Wouldn't the heat not bother her, he thought. Or was that the only thing that could hurt them?
“It's hot,” said Chris.
Johnykin raised her eyebrows in agreement with the obvious statement. “Do you know where they went?”
“No, but I saw them get back and Erik wanted me to tell you...” Chris thought it best to pause, but then thought again that he would only add to the anxiety and quickly spat it out. “Klaus was hurt. Frank and the driver carried him in the labs and I saw a huge burn mark on his back. Erik said he would be okay. They have doctors and stuff for that.”
Johnykin's eyebrows raised again, but her eyes fixed on Chris's as if she had to decipher if he were lying or not. “What?”
She was loud and Chris lowered his voice in hopes she would copy him. “He was hurt. Erik told me he’d be okay.”
She didn't lower her voice. “Are you fucking with me? We're down here eating while he's up there dying?”
“He's not dying. I don't think. He's not. It was just a bad burn. That's all I know. Erik said I should take you out and tell you. They have doctors. They’ll take care of him. We’d only get in the way.”
“That little bastard. I'm gonna kill Erik.” Johnykin looked up at the ceiling as if imagining herself really committing murder. She then looked down and finally back to Chris, somewhat relieved. “You're right. He'll be fine and we would just get in the way.”
“I'm sorry,” said Chris. He reached out to hold her hand. It felt awkward at first and cliché. She accepted it and wiped away a tear with the other hand.
“Don’t be sorry. This is so stupid. It'll be fine after I kick Erik through a wall.”
Chris wasn't ready for such an eye-opening change and laughed at the image of his boss crashing through several walls. Snot shot out of his nose and he ran for more napkins. Johnykin watched and snickered as he came back trying to look presentable.
“Sexy, I know,” said Chris.
“Very,” said Johnykin and began to eat her soup. Chris watched in surprise. He thought she would have forced him to drive her back. Johnykin read his expression. “I'm not wasting my lunch. Klaus is probably fine and he’ll turn it into some great heroic sacrifice on his part.”
Chris ate up too. As soon as they were done, Johnykin did rush them back to the car. At the lab, Erik fended off Johnykin's rage by bringing her to see Klaus as quickly as possible. Klaus was fine. At least he acted fine as he lay on his stomach with bandages covering most of his back. Different monitors beeped steadily as they recorded his condition.
Frank was in the room with Klaus too. After a couple of jokes and reassuring comments to Johnykin, Frank nodded his head to Chris to follow him outside.
“Hey man. Pretty crazy shit,” said Frank.
“Where the hell were you guys?” said Chris.
“I can't say.”
“The fuck? You can't say?” As soon as the words came out, Chris realized how angry he was from not seeing or hearing from Frank.
“Calm down, man. We were on patrol and Klaus got hurt.”
“That's it? You can tell me you were on patrol now. And because I saw Klaus get carried in, you can tell me he got hurt.”
Frank didn't speak.
“What is this bullshit? I don't see you for weeks and now you’re going on secret missions. And what happened? I thought they couldn't get hurt?” said Chris.
“They're still running tests. There's a limit.”
“You sound just like Erik.”
“Relax,” said Frank. He grabbed Chris's shoulders to push their conversation down a hall and into a more remote area. “We're not partners anymore so I can't tell you what's happening.”
“So we're not friends anymore either? You can't talk to me as a friend?”
“Don't bring up your prissy little guilt trips. We are friends, but this is work. Just because you've been fucking around with Johnykin doesn't mean the rest of us aren't doing something.”
“We're not fucking around. How do you even know what I'm doing?” Chris wanted to shove Frank to escalate things, but couldn't bring himself to do it.
“I know what you're doing. I can keep tabs without having to directly be by your side.”
“You haven't even texted or called me.”
“We're not dating. We can go a week or two without talking. Up until now you seemed just fine talking to Johnykin anyways.”
Chris stumbled for a reply. He couldn't keep up his anger for an extended period or at least not the shouting and teeth clenching that went along with it. Frank took the pause as an opportunity to end it. He grabbed Chris's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. A way to release both of their frustrations without giving in to an honest apology.
“I’m glad you missed me and I miss you too. We'll talk about this again, but I have to see Erik,” said Frank. He slowly took his hand off Chris and walked back down the hall.
Chris turned and almost shouted at his back 'fuck off,' but instead stood quietly and watched Frank's slightly lowered head bob away with each step. Once Frank was out of sight, Chris went back to check on Johnykin and Klaus. Johnykin informed him that Klaus was heavily sedated now and not likely to wake up for a few hours. The burns weren't too serious, but would require time to heal. Unfortunately, their super powers didn't include super-fast healing Johnykin joked on the verge of releasing a fresh batch of tears.
Chris stayed for another hour until she told him to go home. He could miss the rush hour and it wasn't like he had any work to do anyways. Chris took her advice and headed out. On the way, his mind did summersaults trying to decipher how Klaus could be hurt or any Super for that matter. He guessed they were all different and all susceptible in some way just like regular people. But what was the purpose of all the tests then? Shouldn't they know his limits by now? Where did they go and what were they doing?
Inside his car, Chris turned the radio station to NPR. He hadn't listened to the news in a while. He went through cycles of listening to CDs for a week or two and then finally going back to the radio until it drove him nuts. So many things were rehashed even with breaking news stories, at least he had a choice of what to fill his head with using a CD.
The reporter spoke the latest headlines confidently, “More and more Supers are being put to work through different government channels. The president has stated again his belief that this is a period of opportunity to examine the best practical uses of such extraordinary American citizens even amidst critics and debates in Congress. The most controversial topic involving Supers still surrounds the Wikileak document dubbed 'Super Soldiers.' This document outlined a potential plan of
action for military use of Supers, but was also swiftly denied by the administration as an out of date intelligence gathering. The UN Security Council continues to stand by its earlier statement given by the United Kingdom member that the use of super-powered beings at this time in international affairs of conflict would be viewed as extreme and condemned.”
“That's all I need next,” said Chris aloud. He then thought of how Sadie would take the news that her husband was bound by the president to storm Normandy in a bulletproof vest with Thor and his merry bunch of gods and goddesses. She would scream and call the White House directly to stop it. He sighed now about the worried look he would get after telling her Klaus was hurt. The traffic and world became a blur as Chris conjured up different scenarios involving Sadie’s temper erupting over the busy news day.
Chapter Twelve
“I still can't believe none of the Supers can fly,” said Gerry. “Why is that?”
Chris sat at the table across from his son, both dunking Oreos in milk and contemplating the physics of super powers. “Not sure. I don't even know how any of their powers work or don't work. I bet the scientists don't even know yet.”
“Do you talk to the scientists there a lot? What do you do there, Dad?”
“Uh, yeah. I talk to them sometimes. Right now we're... I'm training to stay in shape. That sounds dumb, huh?” Chris laughed and Gerry spit a dribble of milk out at the sudden outburst from his dad, which prompted Chris to laugh harder but it died down quickly.
“It's not dumb, but when are you going out again? The other Supers are always out helping people and doing stuff. Simone says his dad is still going out.”
“I don't know.” Chris looked at his son as blankly as his answer. Gerry resumed dipping an Oreo. Nothing else moved their talks.
After they finished their snack, Chris questioned Gerry about homework which somehow led to a discussion about video games. This began a marathon session of All-Pro Football 2K8. Chris hadn't played with his son in months and Gerry took advantage to win the first two battles, but the war wasn’t lost. By the third game, Chris had a plan. He started moving the ball with a series of steady run plays. But Gerry stacked the line and squashed Chris’s third down try, forcing him to punt.
“Give me a break, son,” said Chris. “I’m old and need some help.”
“No way,” said Gerry. “I know you’re tricks.”
Chris couldn’t help smiling at his son’s keen awareness along with the determination to make his dad win or lose honestly. The smile stayed on Chris’s lips as he stared at the television screen and made out the partial reflection of the two of them. This was where he wanted to be.
“Touchdown,” said Gerry, trying not to gloat too much. Chris’s reverie blocked him from seeing what had just happened. He had no idea how his son made it to the end zone again.
“In my face,” said Chris cheering on Gerry’s digital accomplishment. “But enough of you kicking my butt. Time to get seriously serious.”
Chris’s squad started back on the twenty yard line. He studied the playbook and took note of a few pass plays that had worked earlier. A new strategy was forming in his head.
“Oh, ho, ho. Where we’re going, we won’t need roads,” said Chris, as he threw a pass to start his aerial attack.
Gerry laughed out loud before commenting, “That barely makes sense.”
“Just as much as sense as me lighting you up with 1.21 gigawatts. Boom!” Chris’s receiver caught a thirty yard bomb.
“Oh my gosh.” Gerry slunk his shoulders forward in exasperation over his father’s oft-repeated reference.
“Watch and learn how I rewrite the future.” Chris emphasized future to such a ridiculous degree that Gerry snorted trying to keep the laughter in and subsequently gave up a touchdown to his dad.
“Wooooo! But don’t you dare stop and think that’s all I have planned buddy. Just wait and see, there is plenty more where that came from.”
Gerry’s next drive stalled and Chris had the ball again. Chris stuck with passes and took a chance on a deep out route. The receiver caught the ball right at the sideline and came inches away from plowing into the cheerleaders.
The referee ruled it out of bounds. “No! He totally had it,” said Chris. “Check the replay.”
Gerry paused the game and brought up the instant replay. He zoomed the camera in on the receiver’s foot clearly out of bounds while catching the ball. “The tape never lies,” said Gerry.
“What? Where’d you learn that from? Oh well, my guy was too busy checking out the cheerleaders to get his foot down. At least he didn’t run into them and lose out on a date for after the game.” Chris nudged Gerry with his elbow and raised his eyebrows to garner a sympathy laugh, but Gerry just smiled and kept his eyes on the game.
Chris punted the ball away and thought he had the advantage until Gerry hit the spin button and sent his return man streaking down the sideline. Chris switched to the nearest player in pursuit and with a last ditch effort dove to make the touchdown saving tackle.
“Aww, you barely got me. I had it in my sights,” said Gerry, drumming up the almost glory.
“It’s not over till the fat linemen collapse,” said Chris.
“What?”
Chris shrugged his shoulders to show he really didn’t know what that meant either. Gerry selected his play and Chris made an audible to blitz the inside linebackers. The ball hiked and Chris’s linebackers crashed through the line like two semis pulverizing the running back before he could get anywhere. But the next play was a play action and Gerry dumped off an easy touchdown pass to his tight end, effectively shooting down his dad’s chances of making an easy comeback.
Time was running out and Chris switched to a no huddle offense to begin the drive. The players frantically ran around to get into place according to Chris’s instructions. Things flowed smoothly; a rhythm was building. Then Chris sent his slot receiver on a slant. Gerry’s safety tracked it the whole way and crushed the small receiver like a bug.
“Fumble!” said Gerry, and instead of raising his hands in triumph, he kept them firmly planted to the controller. Gerry's safety had the football and under practiced fingers juked through Chris's entire team to bring it back to the house.
“No way,” said Chris. “There has to be something wrong with this game, like corrupted data. Those Radio Shack guys have been selling you secrets on how to mess with the flux capacitor. Haven’t they?”
Chris seized his son’s shoulders and lightly shook him with his most crazy-eyed scientist look he could give. Gerry erupted in to a fit of giggles and it only got worse when Chris started tickling. This turned in to a wrestling match with Chris spitting out more nonsense like “Kid, I own the police,” while Gerry kept to his defiance and wriggled free. Gerry climbed to the top of the couch, looked back to his dad. They both recognized the movie moment.
“You son of a…” said Gerry.
Chris pointed his hand like a gun. “I suppose it’s poetic justice – two McFlys with the same gun.”
Gerry jumped and hid under the couch. Chris peeked over the edge only to be met with a pillow to the face. He took the cue and flailed backwards.
“Nice shot Doc! You’re not gonna believe this, we gotta go back to 1955,” said Gerry.
Chris switched back to the crazy-eyed scientist look. “I don’t believe it!”
On the floor, Chris felt his phone rumble in his pocket. He couldn’t help smiling and looking at his son, who was just as much a nerd as he was. Chris answered the phone without checking who it was, “Come in, Doc.”
“Hey. You took off early. Erik wanted me to call you,” said Frank on the other line.
“Uh, yep.”
“You're gonna start going out on patrol again. You, Johnykin, and me,” said Frank.
“Umm, cool. When?”
“Tomorrow. Don't be late.”
“Okay. That’s soon…”
“Yeah. It’ll be good to work together again.”
<
br /> “Yeah… See you tomorrow…”
“Bye.” Frank hung up.
Chris re-pocketed the phone and explained the news to Gerry in his best excited voice. Gerry didn't catch the apprehension and beamed at the notion. Chris threw a pillow to start another mini-battle and as he played around with his son he grew a fraction more excited about tomorrow. He would have some purpose.
Chapter Thirteen
The new day instead filled Chris’s stomach with worry and grief. He chickened out on telling Sadie that Klaus was hurt after mentioning the news of patrol duty returning. She already gave him the 'pissed off but can't do anything about it' look. He didn't want to add any more ‘pissed off’ to her expression.
As Chris grabbed his coffee and jumped in the car, a part of him expected a phone call or text message to come from Frank about carpooling together but it didn't happen. Instead, Chris kept company with the radio voices of Terry Gross interviewing Stephen King on the latest crisis surrounding his next best-selling, macabre work.
At the labs, Chris walked in confidently, nodding and smiling at everyone that did or didn't glance his way. The anxieties from earlier vanished during the commute as his mind staged a comfortable, fantasy driven existence. He was going to work with his old best friend and possible new best friend. Nothing could be better.
“You chipper little fuck,” said Frank, leaning against an anonymous desk and sipping his coffee. His face mixed reluctant cheer. “Ready to actually work, today?”
“I was born ready,” said Chris
“Oh shit. You better not turn this into a day of quoting your stupid movies.”
“No…” said Chris, then continuing in his mind ‘Yessss. Man. Works every time.’ They didn't say anything else. Chris tried to think of something to do and finally decided on making his way to the lounge area where he thought Johnykin would be.
“Morning,” she said with a fleeting smile. “Come on. Erik wants to brief us on what we're doing, for once.”
She turned and headed for Erik's office. Chris hadn't remembered ever going to Erik's office before. Erik was on the run so much that he just met up with people wherever they were and then was off again. At least that's how Chris thought of him. This image was strengthened when Johnykin walked them inside. Erik was at the door seemingly ready to leave his covert. He about-faced and sat down at his desk. Johnykin took the lead and motioned Chris and Frank to sit down at the two chairs while she stood. The office wasn't much. A simple desk less than five feet long with a laptop and computer on it, canvas chairs that could be picked up in the economy section of any Staples store, and one bookshelf. The bookshelf was completely full, but the spines gave no titles; they stood in plain sight but hid their intent to Chris and any others wishing to draw out more information about the man who put them there.
Just Another Job Page 10