The Subatomic Kid (34 page)

Whatever the scenario, it mattered little to Hunter and Steve. Their attention rested squarely on the truck; they could’ve cared less about the occupants. The two of them fanned out and sneaked around both sides of the vehicle, then on a silent signal from Hunter, they ripped the doors open and stuck their guns inside.

“Okay, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee—hit the street,” Hunter commanded as the young punk in the driver’s seat turned and stared over the barrel of his gun.

“Who the hell are you?” the pimply-faced geek demanded in what Hunter would have sworn was an Austrian accent, and it suddenly dawned on him that foreign inflection was the only form of individuality these creeps had.

“I’m your fairy godfather,” Hunter replied, “and if you don’t want me to turn you into a bullet-riddled wiener schnitzel, you’ll get out of the damned car!”

“You’re an Off-Worlder,” the punk sneered. “I don’t have to listen to you.” It was absolutely the wrong thing to say to a weary warrior whose patience had worn thinner than a supermodel. Hunter reached out his hand and clamped it around the guy’s face, crushing his Buddy Holly glasses until the lenses popped out.

“I’m not asking you to get out,” Hunter said, “I’m telling you,” and he lifted him out of the truck with one hand, held him suspended off the ground, and got right into his face.

“I’m having a very bad day,” he pointed out, “and I’m guessing that you’re really not insensitive to my needs. You were just absorbed in your own life, and you hadn’t noticed my pain. Am I right?”

The punk tried grunting and did his best to nod his head, although neither was very successful given the grip he was caught in. “And, if you could speak, or nod your head, I’m sure you would offer to lend me your vehicle so that I may be on my way and not bothering you with my troubles any longer. Am I right?”

“Aannggghh!” the punk grunted painfully.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hunter said, smiling, as he let the kid drop to the ground in a sniveling, crumpled heap and climbed into the truck. It had been much easier for Steve, because when the young punk’s companion had seen Hunter lift her friend out by the face, the poor scared and frightened fool had leapt out of the truck and fled into what was left of the night.

Steve climbed in behind the wheel and holstered his gun; he had never seen Hunter this riled up. “That was both entertaining and educational, Mr. Hunter.”

“Just don’t get on my bad side when I’m angry,” Hunter warned, “unless you’re looking for some serious trouble.”

“No, sir,” Steve replied. He could see Hunter was jazzed up on adrenaline and he thought it would be better to leave him alone. He threw the truck into gear and took off in the direction the kids had gone, but he couldn’t help going over the events that had happened since they had entered the bowling alley. He realized that if things had been left to him, he would have lost his temper way back at the beginning, and probably blown any chance there was of getting out of the clutches of the Nerds. But Hunter hadn’t done that; he’d checked his anger early and waited until the appropriate time to use it. It was a valuable lesson: If you let anger take control, it leads down a dead end street. But if you control it, you can get anything you want.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

As the kids sat and watched the sun rise over the drive-in, John’s mind turned inevitably to his failure. He had done all he could to ensure that he and his friends remained safe. He had utilized his new talents to the best of his ability, and he had done whatever the subatomic masters had asked him to do, and yet inexplicably, he had failed.

He had also told them he would do everything in his power to find a way out of this strange world, but the truth was he had no idea where to start planning. Sure, he had an awesome ability to change shape, but in this situation it amounted to nothing more than a goofball sideshow attraction.

He glanced at Kate; the sun was shining on her hair and lighting up her face. She was beautiful inside and out, self-assured and strong, and she had no fear of showing her vulnerability. He looked in the rearview mirror at Tex and Cal lounging silently in the back seat. He couldn’t believe he used to be scared of them. They had turned out to be two of the most self-disciplined people he had ever met, and there was no situation, no matter how dire, they couldn’t lighten with a dose of improvised humor.

Then there was himself, still suffering under the John Smith curse of absolute ordinariness. It was a mistake that he was here at all; if he hadn’t walked into an accident, none of this would have ever happened. He suddenly realized he had never begun or finished anything in his life. Everything just happened around him and he reacted to it; there was no planning, no thought, no desire, no achievement. He was a fake, a fraud, and a failure, and he decided he really didn’t like himself very much.

“So this is the end of the road,” he mumbled to himself. It wasn’t what he’d pictured; a sunrise over a drive-in really didn’t go with the funk he’d fallen into.

“It’s a beginning,” Kate said. Oddly, the way she saw it, they were at the start of a new adventure. She surprised herself with her optimism; under normal circumstances she would be quaking in her boots.

“It’s definitely a sign,” remarked Cal nonchalantly, keeping his emotions to himself. Since he’d never scrutinized a sunrise before, he marveled at how every hue was changing all of the time. It made him realize that life really is an event that exists within change, which buoyed his spirits and gave him hope.

“You’ve gotta believe,” Tex declared enthusiastically. The rays of the sun were giving him a new sense of strength and courage. He felt like Popeye after a can of spinach; his muscles were made of hammers, and his will was forged from iron.

“How can you all be so damn positive?” John asked. He felt like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, a lonely monster lost in a swamp.

“How can you not be?” Kate asked with a touch of exasperation. “When you’ve got a sunrise like this, it just makes you feel like everything’s gonna be okay.”

“But a sunrise ain’t gonna help us outta here!” John pointed out pragmatically.

“Oh, but it is,” Cal insisted, spreading the sunshiny mood. “Look at the way it changes every moment. It’s a metaphor for life; change is always just about to happen.”

“Where did you get all this mumbo jumbo from?” John asked, annoyed at their optimism. “You should be angry and upset!”

“It’s not mumbo jumbo,” Tex said softly with a smile, “and we got it from you.”

Now he knew they had gone completely berserk. Watching this sunrise had turned them into softheaded zombies. He wished he could switch the damn sunrise off. He had lost them to a freaking natural phenomenon, and now he was completely alone in a prison of self-pity and doubt.

“Pfft,” he exclaimed in disgust, exhaling all the fear and frustration he had been brewing in his cauldron of ire. “Well, you guys can sit around like a bunch of hippies if you want, grooving on a stupid sunrise,” he added. “But it’s over, don’t you understand? It’s over!” His tirade hadn’t helped him one bit. He felt like a volcano spewing bile high into the atmosphere, and suddenly the tiny world inside the limousine became stifling and claustrophobic. He hit the door, leapt out, and slammed it as hard as he could.

“What’s up with him?” Tex asked, still entranced with the tranquility of the blazing dawn.

“He must be hungry—I know I am,” Cal offered, his eyes still glued to the ever-changing colors in the sky.

“He’s feeling bad,” Kate whispered softly. She had drifted away on a cloud and she was just about to close her eyes and begin dancing with dreams when she realized what she had said. “He’s feeling bad!” she screamed.

“What?!” howled Tex, snapping out of his reverie.

“Whoa!” Cal roared, leaping up in his seat.

“He’s feeling bad about stranding us in this stupid world with no shops,” she said, kicking herself mentally for not paying attention.

“It’s not his fault,” Tex said.

“Yeah, but he feels responsible for us, you know that,” Cal explained, blinking away the light fish that were swimming in his eyes.

“Delivery,” Cal said matter-of-factly, handing Tex the flier he himself had taken from beneath the windshield wiper back in the parking lot.

“1-800-PIZZZA,” Tex read aloud, “with three z’s. The extra z is for flavor! That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Who cares?” Cal commented as he snatched the flier from Tex’ hand. “As long as they deliver.” Kate had half tuned them out while she debated whether to go after John or not.

Buried somewhere deep inside Cal’s assumption, Tex was sure there was a grain of logic, but the more he tried to find it, the more it eluded discovery.

“It’s ringing,” Cal said, and Tex gave up his search; it had become a moot point.

“One eight ‘undred pitzzzzzzzzza,” a voice said in a mock Italian accent, “with an extra zee for flavor.”

“Yeah, hi, we want a pitzzzzzzzzza,” Cal answered, which just goes to show that corporate identity things work, even in strange worlds.

“Yeah, they even know where we are,” Cal agreed, hanging up the phone. “That’s some delivery system they have.” He lounged back in the seat in much the same way Tex had, and they both continued to watch what was left of the sunrise.

***

As John walked away from the limo, suffering in his funk, it occurred to him that when some people had tantrums it seemed like the whole world stopped and came to smooth their ruffled feathers. In his short life he had never been able to elicit any noticeable reaction to his outbursts other than mild curiosity, and this occasion was no exception. It isn’t that throwing a tantrum is an extremely noble way of getting what you want; in fact, it’s downright childish. But when you’re feeling particularly sorry for yourself and you want some attention, it’s the first port of call.

As the tide of his temper began to ebb within him, conflicting emotions began rubbing shoulders and he realized the only thing he had managed to do successfully was make a complete ass out of himself. It wasn’t the picture he had desired to create, but unraveling the complicated web of turmoil he’d woven within himself had produced that result, and now he had to live with the guilt and embarrassment.

He shuddered in the crisp morning air. The drive-in looked like the decaying remnants of a lost civilization; a temple dedicated to the god of entertainment whose movie mogul priests had vanished without a trace. The fabric on the screen hung in tatters, and the rusted speaker stands bore mute witness to a time of glory now faded. It was the perfect setting for a nervous breakdown; it was a wasteland, and it flawlessly mirrored the one he felt within himself.

“You’re not running away are you, John?” Kate had crept up behind him so quietly he had been completely unaware of her presence until she spoke. He spun around and gazed at her like a startled deer caught in the headlights. She stared back at him, probing with her intuition. “I thought so,” she said.