Just Another Job (15 page)

“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.”

“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.