Nobody Gets The Girl (7 page)

"I like it," said the Thrill.

"Whatever," said Nobody. The relaxed mood of
the two sisters seemed jarring to him. There were a million people
on the Mall for the Dome celebration. Monday's Revelation had made
good on their threats. Over the screaming crowd a giant figure
loomed, a hundred feet tall, with a body like a toddler. But where
the head should be, the giant sported a gleaming black pistol. To
Nobody this seemed more pressing than deciding on a code name. He
asked Rail Blade, "You going to stop God's personal handgun, or
what?"

"You do your job, we'll do ours," said Rail
Blade. "Ready for armor?"

"Hit me," said the Thrill. From thin air,
strips of metal slinked and slithered, thickening into plates that
covered the Thrill like a second skin. The outfit was completed
with a large round shield with a mirrored finish for her right
hand, and a long, slender, white-hot sword for her left.

Ready for battle, the Thrill zoomed above the
crowds, shouting, "Keep down! Stay calm!"

The churning crowd's screaming changed into a
relaxed, upbeat murmur.

Rail Blade raced off along her tracks, a
dozen razor-sharp metal half-moons spinning in rapid orbit around
her.

"It's not just a job, it's an adventure,"
muttered Nobody. He settled the radio headset that he had been
given more firmly onto his head. "How did I get into this
mess?"

"FOR THE LAST three decades, I have worked to
make our world a better place," Dr. Knowbokov had told him on his
second evening at the mansion. They stood on the balcony,
overlooking the sea. "Environmental destruction, war, hunger,
disease... I view their existence in the world as a personal
failure on my part, and dedicated myself to their elimination."

"Noble of you," said Richard. "But wouldn't
giving to the United Way be more practical than building a time
machine?"

"Richard, I'm going to ask you to take a leap
of faith. I have unimaginable resources at my disposal. You must
trust me. I can eliminate these evils from the world. I have the
knowledge. I have the plan. Work for me, and you will work to usher
in a Golden Age."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out.
Why do you need me?"

"Because there are forces in this world
working in opposition to my plan. Have you ever heard of a man
known as Rex Monday?"

Richard nodded. "Terrorist. He's behind that
whole 'Monday's Revelation' thing."

"He's behind far more than that. Over the
years he has become an increasingly violent and formidable obstacle
to my work. While I fund the research that eliminates disease, he
funds labs in rogue nations developing new viral weapons. Where I
arrange for diplomatic missions to bring long warring enemies
together, he is busily trafficking horrible weapons to those least
interested in peace."

"He doesn't seem to like the Domes any
either," said Richard. "There's been, what, seven bombings at the
D.C. Dome?"

"The Domes are crucial to my plan to protect
Earth's ecosystem without abandoning the technological advances
that are the hallmark of civilization. With domes over our cities,
we can filter out harmful gasses before they can warm the
atmosphere or harm the ozone. With domes over croplands, we can
provide year round food production in even the harshest climates,
and protect the surrounding environment from agricultural chemicals
or genetic pollution from engineered crops. Without the domes,
Earth could face ecological collapse in under a century. Rex
Monday's opposition to them is proof of the darkness in his
heart."

"Actually, I'm not a big fan of the domes
either. I mean they're big, expensive, and ugly. There must be a
better way to save the Earth."

"Richard, did you know you are under a Dome
now?"

Richard looked up. The sky was bright with
stars. "No way," he said.

"They are big," said Dr. Knowbokov. "But not
ugly. They are barely even visible under most conditions. As for
expense, what price can you put on the health of the Earth?"

Richard strained his eyes, searching for some
evidence to the truth of the doctor's words. "Maybe the domes
aren't the worst idea I've ever heard. OK, I'll play along. You
want an invisible spy, you've got an invisible spy. It's not like I
have a life to get back to. What do you want me to do?"

"Obviously, I want you to find Rex Monday,"
said Dr. Knowbokov. "And then, I want you to kill him."

AFTER A WEEK witnessing wonders, Richard
thought he had seen it all. He was hanging out with a woman who
could fly and another who could lift tanks with her thoughts. He
was the personal guest of the closest thing to a mad scientist he’d
ever met. He kept thinking he should be used to weird stuff by now.
But he couldn't help staring at Baby Gun. He had seen Baby Gun on
TV once, and had assumed he was just some kind of special effect.
But, there he was, toddling around, bigger than any of the
buildings that surrounded him, shooting car-sized bullets from his
head. Baby Gun had already shot three gaping holes in the D.C.
Dome, and knocked a sizable chunk out of the Washington Monument
before Rail Blade reached him. In seconds, the giant's flesh was
marked with a cross-hatching of red slashes as Rail Blade's weapons
tore into him. He turned his bizarre gun-barrel face in her
direction and fired. Rail Blade raced away, but the huge bullet
shattered her rails, sending her into a spin.

The Thrill sped in to help her. But before
she could reach her sister, there was a blinding flash of light, as
a bolt of white-hot plasma struck the Thrill in the center of her
back. Following the flash back to its source, Nobody could see a
woman, with flaming hair and glowing skin, soaring aloft on
enormous wings of flame.

"Who's that?" Nobody asked into his radio
headset.

"Sundancer," said Dr. Knowbokov. "Rex Monday
is using his most powerful agents for this attack. But make no
mistake—any damage these two do will be inconsequential compared to
Rex Monday's real plan. I've found more of his agents on the other
side of the mall, near the Air and Space Museum. Get over there
quickly. The easiest one to find will be the Panic. Anyone who sees
him is instantly overcome with blind fear, but I think you’ll
discover his power cannot affect you. He's accompanied by someone
we haven't encountered before. He looks like a street person, very
dirty, ragged clothes. I can't read him, so he must be under
Monday's influence. Find them and follow them. I’ll make sure my
daughters keep their distance. With any luck, they can lead you to
Monday."

"On it," said Nobody. He started to make his
way across the mall, moving slowly at first, carefully avoiding the
thousands of people who were keeping low and staying calm. But
after failing to bump into a few people who took unexpected turns
into his path, he realized caution wasn't needed. He began to run,
straight through the crowd, often straight through individuals. He
wondered if he would ever get used to it.

Overhead, Rail Blade and the Thrill were
making progress. Baby Gun had been brought to his knees near the
Washington Monument. Enormous iron chains now bound his limbs and
bent his howitzer shaped face low to the ground. He was blasting
craters in the Mall, but doing no harm to anyone but the
earthworms.

Sundancer was proving more difficult. The
Thrill was effectively deflecting her heat bursts with her mirrored
shield, but couldn't get close enough to her agile opponent to land
a blow. Her shouted commands to hold still proved ineffective.

But Nobody could no longer pay attention to
the fight. He had left the area of calm the Thrill had created, and
entered into a panicked mob. Around him, people lay trampled and
broken on the ground. Others fled headlong into trees, into
benches, and into each other. Nobody pressed on, into the eye of
the storm.

The Panic was just a kid, no older than
thirteen or fourteen. He wore blue jeans, a black tee shirt, and
new white sneakers. Nobody recognized him because he was serenely
calm amidst the sea of fear, strolling along, smiling as he chatted
with his companion, a gray-haired, snaggle-toothed bum with filthy
trousers riding halfway down his skinny, boil-ridden butt.

"Lovely," said Nobody, gasping for breath as
he pushed to catch up to them and listen in on their conversation.
He wasn't in luck. As he reached them, they ran out of things to
say.

He followed them closely as they left the
Mall and wandered down the side streets. People continued to flee
before them. A police car appeared, heading in their direction. The
streets were closed to traffic for the inaugural celebration of the
D.C. Dome's completion, so the car was creeping forward through the
fleeing crowds, with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Suddenly,
the last of the crowd dispersed, and the car sped forward for about
a dozen yards. Then, with a squeal of brakes, it slid to a stop
near the Panic and his companion. The tires whined, leaving rubber
streaks as the car shifted into reverse and raced backwards in a
swaying, drunken line. The car veered sharply, smashing tail first
into the side of a building. It then lurched forward, straight into
a fire hydrant. The air bags deployed.

A pair of cops tumbled, clown-like, from the
car. One fled instantly, streaking off after the fleeing crowd. The
other had his feet snared in the spent airbag. The more he
struggled, the more he tangled himself up in it. As the Panic grew
closer, the cop pulled his gun. Tears streaming down his face, he
closed his eyes and fired. Two bullets ricocheted from the
pavement. The third bullet struck the old bum squarely between the
eyes.

"Ow, goddamn it," the bum cursed, sticking
his dirt-blackened finger into the hole in his head.

The cop kept pulling his trigger long after
his gun was empty. The Panic and the bum walked up to him. The cop
began to squeal like a frightened pig as he gazed upon the Panic's
white sneakers.

The old bum squatted down next to the cop,
his pants ripping as he did so. "Right between the eyes is just the
goddamn meanest place to shoot a fella," he said. "I'm gonna go all
cross-eyed staring at it. Why would you wanna do somethin' like
that? What'd I ever do to you?"

The cop vomited and began to claw at the
sidewalk in an effort to get away. In seconds, wet red trails were
left where his fingers scraped the pavement.

The Panic picked up the cop's fallen gun.
"Cops are all the same," he said. "Guns are like penises they wear
on the outside of their pants, lording their manliness over
everyone else. Why don't you show him your trick?"

"Hold his eyes open," the bum said, taking
the gun.

Nobody uselessly reached out to grab the
Panic as he knelt over the frightened man. The Panic dug his nails
in just below the cop's eyebrows and pulled his eyes open.

"Folks call me Pit Geek," the bum said. "You
know what a Pit Geek is, Cop? We're carny folk, the meanest of the
lot. And you know why folks pay to see us? 'Cause we can eat
anything."

To prove it, he stuck the barrel of the gun
into his mouth and bit down. He gnawed the barrel like it was a
particularly tough piece of beef jerky, tearing it off. He chewed
twice, then swallowed.

Nobody felt ashamed. "Yeah," he said. "I
guess I would pay money to see that."

Pit Geek finished off the gun. Then he took
the cop's bloody right hand into his own hand, and shoved it, up to
the wrist, into his mouth.

"Jesus God!" shouted Nobody, vainly grabbing
at Pit Geek's hands.

The cop fainted as the bloody stump of his
wrist fell limp upon the pavement.

Pit Geek tapped him on the forehead. "Wakey,
wakey."

The Panic dropped the cop's head. "Forget
it," he said. "We need to hurry. The boss says they're getting the
evacuation ready now. Children first."

The two of them moved on. Nobody lingered
behind. Now that no one was looking, he ripped long strips from the
airbag and made a tourniquet around what was left of the cop's
wrist. Satisfied that the blood loss was abating, he jogged off
after his two targets, who were entering a parking garage filled
with school buses.

"Bomb," said the Panic.

Pit Geek began to retch. His mouth and throat
bulged as he vomited forth a large rectangular package. Richard
wondered how someone as thin as Pit Geek could have held such a
thing in his body. "Good thing the bullet didn't hit this," Pit
Geek said, wiping his mouth. "I got blowed up once back in '83 and
it took damn near a year to work all the shrapnel out." He held the
still dripping bomb out to the Panic.

"I'm not touching that," the Panic said. He
pointed to the nearest bus. "Get under there."

Pit Geek dropped to his knees and crawled
under the bus.

"Always gotta do the dirty work," he
grumbled.

Nobody spoke into his radio once more. "Found
out part of their plan," he said. "They're going to blow up school
buses. Any idea on how to stop them?"

"Stopping them isn't your priority," said Dr.
Knowbokov. "Just don't let them out of your sight."

"You're going to call the cops or something,
right?"

"Of course," said Dr. Knowbokov.

By now, Pit Geek had vomited up another bomb,
and was crawling toward the next bus.

"It's those damn corners that get me," Pit
Geek complained. "Couldn't the boss have rounded them off or
something?"

"Keep working," the Panic said, placing a
hand to his left ear. "Boss says they've gathered the children at
the Air and Space Museum auditorium. We've got ten minutes, tops,
before they start loading the buses."

Nobody crawled under the first bus and looked
at the bomb, which Pit Geek had jammed between the transmission and
the body. The package was about a foot long, eight inches wide, and
maybe four inches deep. It was wrapped in what looked like tin
foil. The corners did look unnecessarily sharp. There were no
dials, wires, or counters.