"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis" -- Chapter Seventeen

Hello!

And here it is, the last chapter. I hope you've enjoyed the story. And now it is available to you, all of it, right in time for the start of NaNoWriMo.


I'm very excited for my "nano" project this year. A story that just popped into my head about a month ago, superseding every other story idea I'd been working on. And this one promises to be something special.

For my NanoPrep, I've actually been, um... *cough* writing ahead. And I'm glad I did. The first thing that happened was I ran into all sorts of issues surrounding what voice I wanted to use (first person? Third person? Omniscient or limited?) and present-vs.-future tense. Changing these details changed the story from a cutesy first-person adventure tail into something a little deeper. But you lose a very personal, emotional layer when you go Third. But you can't have it all.

Or can you!

Suddenly, my story has been jumping around. Diary entries. Newspaper clippings. Switching from present day to the past to visions to lessons... it's a beautiful mess. But, if I can do it correctly, it should all boil together perfectly into something better than I ever thought I could write. I'm being open-minded with this one. I am writing with abandon.

And, yes, I started early, because pretty much the whole last week of November is shot to hell by Thanksgiving and family obligations. So, yeah. Meh. I decided it's not "cheating" to start your Nano early... it's writing.

Cheers and good luck to you!
LLH




Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16 

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"

By L.L. Heberlein

(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

“George, I need a drink!” I said, sitting down at my favorite bar. George poured me a big mug of coffee, and then set the carafe down next to me.

“It’s on the house, Davis.”

John pushed the carafe toward me. “No no no!” he said. “We shall pay! For we have money to spend in this fine establishment!” He put a couple bills on the counter, paying for my coffee and his and Lucy’s drinks. The two of them didn’t hang out at Babbitt’s much – it is an underworld bar, and until lately they were both humans. But it was open all night, and we were in need of celebration. And drinks. And maybe even some therapy.

“So, John,” I said, staring at the bills in front of us. “What will you do with your share of the money?”

“Now that Barry is paid and the power’s back on?”

“Yeah,” I said, finishing off my cup and pouring another. “What’s up next.”

“Oh, I dunno,” John said. “I was thinking about maybe expanding the business. You know, maybe hiring on an employee or two. Maybe taking on a partner.” He winked at me. “You interested?”

“Me?” I took a swig and set my cup back down. “I don’t think I’m the guy you need. I’m not really much of a detective.”

“But you’re so good at finding trouble!” John laughed.

“And I nearly got you killed,” I said.

Lucy scowled. “You DID get him killed! It’s only because I ran into that animator…”

“How did you find that woman?” I asked. Lucy flicked my ear. “Yeah, I know. Her name is Thea.”

“You know, she just appeared, almost out of nowhere,” she said, taking another dainty sip of some pink cocktail. “I still don’t understand what she did.”

“You think I’ll decay like this?” John looked down at his hands. “Or you think the embalming fluid will keep me fresh forever?”

Lucy almost threw up her cocktail. “Let’s not think about it, shall we?”

“But I have to think about it, Luce! Look at me! I mean, what the hell am I? Zombie? Ghoul? How long do I have to live like this?”

I shrugged. “Maybe a long time,” I said. “Maybe not long at all. How long do any of us have? I can tell you one thing, though. Take good care of yourself. You never know what’ll happen to you if you get a body part ripped off.”

John went wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”

I just shook my head and sipped at my coffee.

We had a nice, rather quiet rest of the evening at Babbitt’s. Lucy ordered some late-night dinner. John played pool with the vampire league, very impressed at how much better he played. For some reason, he said, his eyesight was now better than 20/20 and his muscles never fatigued. Could be he’s possessed by a demon, like me. I kept my mouth shut, though. It’s just not the sort of thing you talk about.

Me, I just watched them play pool and drank coffee. I wasn’t feeling like going home, for some reason. Maybe it was the mess I knew that waited there, or just the idea John had died, and now he was alive, and I still felt like I had to somehow explain myself to him. Whatever happened to him from here on out, I felt responsible, whether I was or not.

I thought about my chunk of the money. I thought about moving. Maybe Chicago.

Someone tapped my shoulder.

Schwartz… Eric. Dammit, I’ll never remember to get that straight. “Hello, Davis.” He was dressed down now, in a black T-shirt and tight-fitting jeans. Must be off work, I figured.

“Hello, Eric.”

“You mind if I sit for a minute,” he asked, sliding onto the stool next to me. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “What’s on your mind.”

Eric looked straight ahead, toward the people playing pool, as he spoke. “I want you to come work for me.”

I swear, if I hadn’t just finished off the last of my cup, I would have spit coffee across the bar. “But you HATE me!” I said, before I could stop myself. “Sorry. Sorry. I mean, I’m sorry for being so honest, but… don’t you hate me?”

Eric smiled just a tiny crack of a smile. “I used to. You were really a pain in my ass for a while there. But the way you handled yourself tonight… holding your own against those big players… I’m not easily impressed, Davis, but I’ll say it. I was impressed.”

I tried to look stoic. It took everything I had not to smile at him. I stared, like him, straight ahead.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Stuff like tonight,” he said. “Tracking down criminals, dealing with big players. You’ll have your own suite at Purgatory, and all the new suits you could want.”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m staying in town,” I said. “I feel like I need to get out of here for a while. Shit around here just got really weird.”

He stood up. “Suit yourself,” Eric said. He reached into his pocket and brought out a business card. White with angel wings on one side, black with devil horns on the other. And a phone number. “Call if you change your mind.”

I watched him walk out of the bar without so much as a glance back at me. I turned the card over a few times. Purgatory. Me, working for Schwartz. Me, one of those black-suited cronies picking up after underworld messes.

Me, working with India. Again.

I could think of worse jobs. –

THE END

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis" -- Chapter Sixteen

Turns out Communism was just a red herring...

The story is wrapping up, and questions get answered. Turns out, the butler did it. ;-)

I am aware of the failings of this story. For one, we have a pretty big character (the Blonde) who doesn't show up until almost the end. See, that's a story fail. We ought to have been introduced to her way earlier in the story. I attribute this failing to 1. inexperience as a writer and 2. writing this as a "pantser."

A pantser is a term used by my fellow NaNoWriMos to describe one who goes into the novel writing process without an outline--by the seat of their pants, so to speak. For this story, I had a rough idea of the story plot, based on  Dashiell Hammett's "The Maltese Falcon," and a few preexisting characters in my back pocket. And that's it. I just thought up a scene, wrote about it, and then thought up the next thing as I went along. It was a wonderful exercise in coming up with "story," but the end result is full of plot holes and story writing mistakes.

Right up their next to "don't show me a gun unless you're going to fire it," would be "don't introduce a pivotal character at the end of the book." I'm not talking about waiting to reveal a characters identity, or hiding the villain until we fight them in the dénouement-- I'm talking about the mistake of saying "the butler did it" on page 385, when we didn't even know there was a butler until page 350.

Ah, well. Live and learn. Write by your pants, and edit by the rules.

Good luck, WriMos!
LLH




Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15   

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"

By L.L. Heberlein

(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

“So, how long you think this will take?” John asked. He was laying down, eyes closed, mouth flapping. He wasn’t dead. Not yet.

My head snapped to McGuffin. “See,” he said. “I told you. You’re friend is possessed of some other source of animation. This stone does nothing.”

John sat up in his coffin, as if to demonstrate the point. “I guess that wasn’t it. Huh.” He started to climb back out.

“Wait, wait. Just hold on here a goddamn minute,” I said, still clutching tightly to the case full of money. “John, why aren’t you dead?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Cool we still get the money though, hu?” Then came that classic Horseface grin. “And I do me we, deadman! Cuz if you try to screw me out of my cut of the cash, I will find a way to end you!”

I shook my head, eyes wide, still disbelieving. “Here,” I said, handing him the case. “It’s all yours. You deserve it. But I still don’t get it. Why are you not dead?”

“IT WORKED!”

A lavender blur streaked passed me, slammed into John, and knocked them both into the coffin. The dais went tumbling, taking the coffin and the two huge floral arrangements with it. John and Lucy landed in a heap on top of the whole thing. Lucy began to sob.

“Oh, it worked! I didn’t believe it at first. I COULN’T believe it. But here you are!”

“Here I am,” John laughed. “And you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

“I hired an animator!” she said.

“A whose-it what-inator?” John said.

“An animator!” Lucy squealed. “She was just here! A darling blonde woman named Thea. Davis, you saw her. You were with her. Remember? I tried rolling my eyes at you because you were making time with my animator when she was busy working. She’s just incredible, isn’t she?”

“I did… what now?” I asked.

Lucy kissed John, and suddenly the talking was all over. There they were, a pile of gray and lavender on top of white flowers, making out. I scratched my head.

“Thea?” I asked. “I thought she worked here? She’s an animator? What’s an animator?”

No answers from the kissing couple.

McGuffin brushed past me. “If you will excuse me gentlemen, lady,” he said. “I will take my property and make my exit.”

“Now, hold on,” I said, taking him by the shoulder. “If the stone does nothing, then how come everybody wants it?”

He laughed. “Don’t you see? Everybody wants it, because everybody wants it,” he said. “That is it’s value.”

I shook my head. “I still don’t get it.”

“And I ask you, what value is a diamond, really? Or gold, for that matter. What value has a dollar bill, save that which we imbue it with?”

“So it’s valuable, because it’s valuable?”

“Yes,” McGuffin answered. “Quite so. Clara the would-be vampires offered me two million dollars for it.”

“But you didn’t accept her credit,” I said. “You didn’t take her money.”

“Oh I took it, alright,” McGuffin said. “Of course I took it. I am a dealer. I deal in any currency.”

“But you told her…”

“My dear boy,” McGuffin said. “If I’d allowed Clara access to the stone, she would have seen that it did nothing, and the stone would have become useless! Don’t you understand, it’s the mystique of the thing. I had to maintain the mystique.”

“So you set it up so she’d be attacked when she opened the box?” I asked. “You set her up?”

“Well, now, I didn’t say that.”

“And she knew you’d set her up, so she set me up?”

“That, I have no knowledge of.”

“So, wait. Let me get this straight. You offered to sell Clara the stone. She paid you two million, which you took. You shipped the stone here, complete with that booby-trap I encountered, to keep her from getting it. What’s more, you put some sort of spell on it, so she couldn’t get to it. Maybe a twenty-four hour holding spell? Or some daylight-only spell? Am I getting close?”

McGuffin shrugged. “I admit to nothing.”

“So I get there, because a ruckus, and the shipping center decides it’s a good idea to get rid of the thing, and delivers the package to my home, during daylight hours. Of course, I’m not there, but Horesface is!”

John stopped kissing Lucy for long enough to yell, “Hey!”

“Sorry, John,” I said. “Anyway, John gets the package, hides it away, and in walks Clara, in broad daylight, because she’s not really a vampire.”

“That, I swear, I was not aware of,” McGuffin said. “She must have possessed some powerful magic to fool me.”

“Which is probably why she was so interested in that stone,” I said. “Which she thought was some super-powerful magical item. Now, my question is, if you hadn’t intended on letting her have it, why did you agree to sell it to her?”

“Because that’s what he does.” Thea walked into the room. She brushed her blonde hair back over one shoulder and put her hands on her hips. The lizard-man stood next to her, arms crossed. “We’ve been tracking him for months now. He ships illegal merchandise, fake magical items, but never delivers. We’ve never been able to prove it, until now. We needed that stone as evidence!”

“And now, we have it!” lisped the lizard man. He snatched the stone from McGuffin’s hand and held it above his head. “Yesssssssssssss,” he said. “Finally, we have the evidencccccccccccce!”

“Wait, you?” I said. “You two are working together?”

McGuffin ran for the door. Thea moved fast. She swiped his leg. McGuffin landed on his belly. Thea jumped on top of him, grabbed his arms, and pinned them behind him. The lizard-man joined her, using a yellow zip-tie strip to bind his hands.

“This is beyond me,” I said, watching the lizard hand McGuffin over to Eric and his posse.

“Don’t worry,” Thea said, tossing her hair. “You didn’t mess things up too bad. Oh, you got in the way, and almost totally fucked up the plan. But you came through in the end.” She patted me on the ass. “And what a find end you have, too. Thanks for sharing!” She held out her hand for the lizard man. “Come on, darling. Let’s deliver the evidence, so we can go home.”

I watched the blonde witch-woman walk out of the room, hand-in-hand with the lizard.

Girl Superhero Project Prompt 5: Smart, Rich, Super Suit

Girl Superhero Project Prompt 5:
Ironman is a superhero because he's totally rich and smart and made his own suit so he could fly and stuff. This girl superhero who is also smart and rich made herself a super suit. What does it look like? What does it allow her to do?


At our last meeting, our super-awesome kick-ass women's writing group did a thirty-minute write-in. I used this superhero prompt, wrote for the full thirty, and this is what I came up with. Formulaic, cliche even... but so fun!

And so, with very little editing, I give you...

 

The Moth
By L.L. Heberlein


Sally picked up the phone. "Yell-ow," she answered, though not really enthusiastically. Her mind was far too occupied by more important things--physics, molecular chemistry, the wingspan velocity of an unladen swallow.

"Mizz Rex, your package has arrived," a man said in a crisp British accent. "Special delivery. Shall I send it up?"

"Of course," she said, then added, "Right away, Halloway"--always her little joke with her long-suffering butler.

When the box was wheeled in, it took up most of the door frame. Halloway had to tilt the box sideways, almost losing the entire load. Sally ran to grab the corner of the box before it fell. "Careful," she aid. "This is delicate material. Doesn't come cheap, either."

"If it is so delicate," Halloway said, raising an eyebrow, "then why bother with it at all?" He was always a little skeptical of her inventions. Rightfully so. Sally hadn't come up with anything truly functional since the creation of the wrinkle-free, wipe-clean fabric she invented three years ago. The always-clean, dirt-repelling nature of the fabric came with another interesting side-effect--it was also invisible to radar. Stealth fabric, imagine that.  Between fashion designers and the military, Sally had added millions to her already ample trust fund.

The fabric--LightSweep, she called it--had made her more than enough money to invent the thing she really wanted.

"Behold, Halloway," she said, busting through the cardboard. "My latest, greatest invention--FeatherLight."

"So brilliant, Mizz Rex," Halloway tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he studied the gray bolt of mesh-like material. "But what does it do?"

"Ye of little faith." Sally rolled her eyes. "FeatherLight is the product of years of research into the molecular structure of moth wings. It is light as a feather--lighter--yet stronger than steel. It is soft as down, yet slices through metal with its razor-sharp edge. It's water-repellant, bullet-repellant. And once I get it on my framework--"

"Oh, that thing in the corner," Halloway sighed.

"Yes, Halloway, that thing. Once I apply this fabric to that frame--"

"Don't tell me you think you'll be able to fly."

Sally scowled. "I'm sorry, but don't you have some sort of butler-type-thing you should be doing?"

He tilted his head. "Yes, miss. Much butlering to be done downstairs. Is that all, Mizz Rex?"

"Yes, thank you." She nodded at him, then dove for the contents of the box. "Oh, and bring me a ham sandwich. Rye. No pickles."

"Of course, miss." Halloway bent his head forward and backed out of the huge ballroom that Sally had long ago transformed into her laboratory.

Ten minutes later, Halloway returned with the sandwich to find Sally applying strips of very thin, iridescent fabric to the metal frame. "Your sandwich, miss," he said, trying not to watch over her shoulder. He knew how much she hated having him watch her work.

"Thank you," she murmured through a mouthful of pins.

But the sandwich sat untouched, even hours later, when Halloway returned to clear the plate and turn off the lights he assumed she'd left on in the lab. He found her working feverishly on the project that looked to  him like a cross between a gray circus tent and a complete disaster.

"Goodnight, miss," he said, knowing better than to remind her of the time. It was well after midnight, and Sally hadn't stopped. She wouldn't stop now--not until the project was finished.

It was sometime around sunrise when Halloway heard the scream.

The noise had come from the foyer--not a frightened scream, but one filled with joy. The sound of absolute elation.

"I did it!" Sally screamed. "It works! Oh, Halloway! Come here! It works! It works!"

"What in the world..." Halloway stepped into the foyer and found Sally perched on the edge of a railing, several feet above the hard marble floor.

"Watch this!"--And then she jumped.

Halloway let out a scream as his employer--more like a daughter to him since her parents died--plunged off the high railing--and flew.

She wasn't gliding, wasn't parachuting. Sally was actually flying.

"It works perfectly, Halloway! Look!" She landed at his feet, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then launched herself back into the air. "What do you think of that!"

"I... I... I..." Halloway was at a loss for words.

"Brilliant, isn't it!" Sally beamed. "Do you know how long mankind has been trying to invent actual, functional wings like these?"

He coughed. "The mind recalls the story of Icarus, miss."

"I mean, forget the military applications for a moment, and just think of what this means for all of humanity." She smiled. "What's Icarus?"

"Icarus, of the wax wings, miss," he said. "An ancient myth of a boy with wings made of wax. He flew too close to the sun, and plunged to his death, I believe."

Sally did a summer-salt in midair and laughed. "These are no wax wings, Halloway. These are made of pure FeatherLight. Even the base is made of an alloy similar in structure to the FeatherLight fabric. Both are patented to me, of course."

"Of course," Halloway said, feeling his chest tighten as he watching Sally fly to the highest point of the ceiling, some thirty feet above. "But will they hold?"

"Of course they'll hold. I invented them for military  as well as civilian applications. Here--" She dove from the ceiling to the ground, swooping to a stop at the last second. She landed softly at Halloway's feet, then took a gun from a holster at her side. "Shoot me!"

"No!" Halloway screeched in a voice that was quickly losing its proper deference.

"Yes!" Sally answered. "Not me, of course. I meant the wings. Try to shoot one off."

"Miss... I don't think that is such a good idea..."

Girl Super Hero Project Prompt 4: The Librarian

Girl Super Hero Project Prompt 4: The Librarian
Some super heroes/super villains are super smart. The Librarian is totally book smart. How does she use that to her advantage?


I’m no poet. I’m not, really. But I like this for some reason, so gosh dern it, I'mma post it. You’re welcome.

Enjoy,
LLH




Fundamental Power
By L.L. Heberlein


Armed and ready
book by my side
pen poised to take notes
I listen, and wait
day, and night
for the knowledge to pour into me
perched over pages like a raptor ready to strike
I spread my wings and take flight.

The Rest of David -- (Short Story/Flash Fiction contest entry)

 Here is my submission for a short story contest sponsored by the Short Story & Flash Fiction Society. It is a horror story based on a serene image (right). More details can be found here:

http://www.shortstoryflashfictionsociety.com/flash-fiction-contest-8/

Enjoy,

LLH

The Rest of David

By L.L. Heberlein

@Heberlann

(about 460 words)

“This is the last place they’ll look for us, David. We can rest here. We’re safe.”

But I knew it wasn’t true.

I caught my breath at the base of a narrow tree, one in a line of many narrow trees surrounded by a blanket of bushes, thick and green and growing. The wind kicked up, and the breeze brought with it the smell of fresh earth, like spring turning into summer. Like living hope.

Rows upon rows of narrow trees, tiny and new, lifted their leafy arms straight up toward the sun. It was peaceful. Quiet. Green and growing and full of life, far removed from anything ruined. A good place to stop.

It didn’t matter. They would look for us here. They would find us anywhere.

I clutched the old coffee can to my chest and closed my eyes. I wished all of him could have come with me, but I had only this, and it was all that was left of the rest of David. 

If I could have, I would have had him cremated. I’d have burned him to cinders and gathered the ashes and put them in the coffee can instead of just this. I’d had neither the time nor the facilities for such luxuries. And when the time came to kill him, I kissed his purple lips, wrinkled and rotten, and struck my shovel against his wilted, blackened head. But it felt like a betrayal to leave him behind. So with my sharpened shovel I dug deep into his chest, cracking ribs and sternum with the pointed end. I dug down until I came to his heart, still red and fresh and full of blood. I cut it from his purple chest and placed it in the coffee can to take with me. To keep it with me until the end.

It was mine, after all. He had given it to me.

A wave of wind blew through the trees, whispering a random chorus as their delicate leaves danced, brushing their bodies against one another. I listened.

Listened.

Then the rustling turned rhythmic, becoming something more steady, like the sweep-sweep of legs moving through tall bushes, leaves brushing against bodies. So many bodies.

I’d have screamed, if there had been anyone to save me.

I’d have run, if there had been anywhere else to go.

But this was it. The last place they’d ever look for us. Brilliant and bright green and unaffected. The very last place.

I let that thought take me as their bruised and blackened faces appeared. I closed my eyes to the sight of their rotting fingers as they brushed my skin, and held tight to the image of a perfect row of trees as they stole the rest of David from my purple hands.

###

@Heberlann

Girl Superhero Project Prompt 3: The Praying Mantis

Girl Superhero Project Prompt 3: The Praying Mantis
When I think of kick ass women in nature, I think of The Praying Mantis. Create a super hero or super villain around this idea. What superpowers would she have? If you don't particularly like the praying mantis, pick a different insect that does something that could turn into a super hero/villain power.

Being that the impetus for this project was children’s storybooks about superheroes, I tried my darndest to keep this one PG13-rated. So, so difficult.  Nature is totally rated R. 

Enjoy,

LLH

Character Overview

Name: The Praying Mantis (Penelope Moore)

Alignment: Villain/Totally Evil

Superpowers:  Using razor-sharp talons embedded in her arms, the Praying Mantis leaps on her prey, capturing them with her hooks, and then devouring them with her sharp teeth and massive jaw.  While the mantis will capture and eat anything, she prefers to eat men

Modus operandi: Naturally greedy, and a thief, the Mantis steals whatever she can. She began her life of crime with smaller jobs like strip mall boutiques and jewelry stores, then moved up to more elaborate robbery schemes, including major banks and high-stakes casinos.  To keep from being caught or identified, the Praying Mantis is known to kill her associates, right in the middle of the robbery.

Costume: A modified nun’s habit

Motivation:  Pride, avarice, rage, revenge, glory-seeking, daddy-issues

Goal:  To rob even bigger targets, killing even bigger prey

Backstory: It began when Penelope Moore was ten, and her daddy stole her ice cream cone. That bastard! She WANTED that ice cream cone. In a fit of rage, Penelope murdered him.  No one was ever going to take anything from her, ever again! 

Over the years, Penelope found her ruthlessness meant she could take whatever she wanted, and she became an expert thief. When a close associate threatened to turn her in, she killed him, earning Penelope the moniker The Praying Mantis. Like any good super villain, Penelope decided to go with it. 

Through a series of surgeries and body modifications, the Praying Mantis had razor-sharp talons embedded in her forearms. Hidden from view, these talons can latch onto and stab anyone she lays hands on. More razors replaced her teeth, and then another surgery allowed her jaw to come unhinge, expanding large enough for her to bite right through a human neck. 

While the Praying Mantis won’t actually devour people, she has been known to leave a bloody mess in her wake. 

Quotes:  “Hello, boys. It’s time to say your prayers.” 

“You wouldn’t want to betray me, Ralph. I ate the last guy who tried to turn me in.” 

“Don’t lose your head.” 

“Pardon me while I take a bite out of crime.”

“Does this clown taste funny to you?”

Girl Super Hero Project Prompt 2: Power of Pause

Girl Super Hero Project Prompt 2:
Power of Pause
This super hero or super villain has a pause button she can use to her advantage. Tell us how she got it and harnessed its power.

 

Who’s Got The Button

By L.L. Heberlein

(850 words)

He brought the button to my house one gray, gloomy afternoon. The drizzling rain clung in sparkly droplets to his over-sized wool coat and wide-brimmed felt fedora. He looked suspicious, but then anyone in a fedora looks suspicious to me. Who wears fedoras, anyways? Only gangsters in old movies and people trying to look like something they aren’t. What was he, then? Who was he? And what was he doing standing in my doorway?

“You’ll be needing this,” the man said, shoving a box into my hands. It was the same size and shape they used to hold one of those fancy cupcakes. I grabbed the box before it dropped, doing a little foot-shuffle maneuver to keep the door behind me propped open.  It was one of those doors that would lock behind you if you shut it.  I kept the door open with one foot so that it blocked the apartment from his view. Call me paranoid, but I wasn’t inviting Mr. Fedora inside. 

“Sure,” I said, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling. Like this sort of thing happened to me every day. It did. Well, maybe not exactly like this, but when you live life as an actual, open, out-of-the-closet superhero, strange things show up on your door step.  It happens. “So, what does it do?”

“It’s...” He drew the sentence out, like he needed more time to figure out what he was going to say. “… A pause button.” 

“Pause button? Appropriate,” I said.  I offered him a little smirk, but the guy didn’t crack a grin. No sense of humor, apparently. No, no. Big pause button. Serious business.  “And what am I supposed to do with it?” 

He cocked his head to one side and stared at me with a blank expression. Everything about him was a blank expression, come to think of it. His face was very neutral, unremarkable. His eyes were a grayish color and gloomy like the sky.  There was nothing overly interesting or notable about his appearance at all. Well, except for the damn stupid hat. There, I said it. The thing looked stupid on him. 

“Miss…”

“Please, let’s not kid ourselves with formalities,” I said. “It’s Hyper Girl. Just Hyper Girl.” 

“Fine,” he said. “Hyper Girl, this is a pause button. It is very powerful, but can be used only once. As soon as you press it, everything around you will stop. The movement of people, the ticking of time, traffic…”

“Ooooh, traffic!” I said, prying the lid off the button box. “Gimme, gimme! I’ve gotta be across town by six.”

Fedora guy yanked the box out of my hands. “Did you miss the part where I said it could be used only once?” 

“Sure, sure,” I said. “Only, when is it going to come in handy for me, right? I mean, I’m Hyper Girl! That’s what I do. I move super, super fast! And a lot. How is a pause button going to help me in any way?” 

Fedora guy shook his head. “If you have to ask that, maybe you aren’t the right person for the box.” He took one step back from the door. It looked like he was ready to leave. 

“Don’t!” I cried. I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “I’ll take it, I’ll take it! Cheese and Rice!!” I opened the lid again. The red button was the size of a softball. “So, I just push this thing, and time and all that other stuff just stop?  For how long?” 

“Until you push the button again,” he said. “Once that is done, the button will become useless to you. It will only regenerate once it is passed on, once you  give the button to someone else.” 

A strange feeling rose in my gut.  “Is that why you’re giving this to me?” I asked. “Did you already use it?” 

The right corner of his mouth curled upwards. He lifted his hand to his hat, dipped his head toward me, and headed down the step. “Have fun,” he said, not bothering to turn back around to look at me.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

My eyes shot wide. My superhero senses were really tingling now. “What did you do?” I yelled after him. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” 

A vicious laugh echoed off the wet pavement as he walked across the parking lot. I wanted to run after him, but the door would lock, and I didn’t have my key. You try hiding a key in all this Lycra. What I had, however, was the box with the button, and the ability to stop him. To stop everything. 

I bolted across the living room, grabbed up the remote and turned on the TV. The story was everywhere, splashed across all the news channels. 

CITY BANKS ROBBED. VAULTS EMPTIED. POLICE BAFFLED AS PERPATRATOR GOES UNSEEN. 

Ah, horse feathers. 

I opened the box all the way. The big red button seemed even bigger and redder with my hand hovering over it. 

“Well,” I said, addressing myself to my fat orange cat, Professor Purry Pants. “Here goes nothing!”