Lodestone

" Vacation (part 1) " by Martin Maenza



A silver Ducati ST2 Sport-Tourer barreled across the tarmac; its 944cc engine roared as the motorcycle chased after the small private jet that taxed just ahead of it.  With each second, the bike and its black clad rider moved closer and closer.  Soon, the edge of the wing was within striking distance.

Okay, girl, this is as far as you go, the rider thought to himself as he pressed a special button on the throttle.  The cycle burst forward under its own control, allowing the man to quickly hop up onto the seat and then launch himself at the fiberglass protrusion before him.  His torso hit the wing hard, and his black-gloved hands quickly sought something to latch onto before he could start to slide off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his bike veer off and slow down before the engine cut out entirely. His vehicle dropped to the ground.  He took a second to smile to himself.  Got to thank Whitey for installing that feature, he thought to himself.  He’d really blow a gasket if I wrecked another bike!

The plane jerked as its pilot started to turn to make its final pass down the runway.

Time to move! The man thought to himself as he began to scramble across the wing.  The slowness of the plane due to the turn allowed him the opportunity to get to his feet.  But, as the plane straightened, it began to speed up once more.

The extra passenger bound across the wing towards the main fuselage of the plane, all the while reaching into one of the flaps of his specially designed black uniform.  No time for finesse, he thought as he removed some plastic explosive, quickly primed it and tossed it just ahead of him towards the small cabin door.  If I run out of runway, I can kiss the rest of the retainer fee goodbye!  The material came in contact with the door just as it was ready to go off.

The man threw himself against the side of the plane as the explosion went off just a few feet from him.  But, the one upside of going splat on the pavement would be not having to tell Mrs. Marsh we can’t pay her this week!

With a loud boom, the door to the plane blew inward, providing a smoking opening into the fleeing craft.

The man smiled as he dove for the open doorway.  One bullet dodged, one to go!  As the black clad figure flew into the craft of the plane with a tumbling roll, he pulled a weapon from the holster at his side.

“Nobody move!” he shouted as he rolled to his feet, poised like a cobra ready to strike.  “This flight is cancelled!”

“What the…?” a brown haired man in a tailored Italian suit exclaimed as he bolted from the plush sofa along the back wall.  He recognized the man who had just boarded the plane.  “Tag!”

From the cockpit, the man in the pilot’s seat turned his head.  “I’m radioing the tower to tell them we’re aborting our takeoff.”  He reached for the radio controls on the console.

“No!” the man in the suit yelled.  “I’m in charge!  Continue flying - now!”  He charged for the intruder.

Tag met him halfway, his right fist flying.  “You’ve got to be Mulland, right?  ‘Cause only an idiot would think he could rip off his employer for millions and try to flee the country in a company owned plane to boot!”

Tyler Mulland dodged the punch at the last second, much to Tag’s surprise.  “I’m not going down without a fight!”  Then he realized what the man still had in his hand.  “But you seem to be better armed…” 

“Yeah, I am,” the hero-for-hire smiled.  “If you’d rather do this mano-o-mano, I’m up for that too!”  Tag holstered his weapon and then took a swipe at the man with his right fist again. 

Mulland dodged to the left.  Tag’s right leg shot out and sent the man in the suit sprawling across the floor.

Tag then turned to the pilot.  “Mr. Wilkenson hired me to keep an eye on this guy, and I’m not about to let him get away.  So, why not bring this baby back to the hanger and we…”

At that moment, Mulland lunged up and grabbed at Tag’s uniform, managing to pull something from its holding place.  “You ain’t taking me in!”

Tag spun around and realized what was in the man’s hand.  His face turned all serious.  “You’re an idiot!” he shouted as he kicked his foot into the air.  The boot heel jammed into Mulland’s wrist, causing enough damage and pain to force the man to release the item along with a blood curdling scream.

The man in black, meanwhile, had done a jump-kick maneuver; on the up-kick his foot connected with the item mid-air as it started to fall and sent it hurtling out of the open doorway of the plane.  Two seconds later, there was a huge explosion outside.

Tag reached down and forcefully grabbed Mulland by the front of his shirt, yanking him to his feet. From behind his dark sunglasses, the hero glared at the businessman.  “You almost just blew yourself and the rest of us to kingdom come, jagoff!  Didn’t anyone teach you to keep your hands to yourself?”  He tossed Mulland across the cabin onto the sofa.  “Now, you just sit tight like a good little felon until we can turn you over to the cops!  I’m sure they and your soon-to-be former employer have a lot of questions for you!”

He glanced at the cockpit and noticed the expression on the pilot’s face.  “What are you smiling at, ace?”

The pilot turned the plane and headed back towards the hanger.  “I was just wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Can I get your autograph for my son?  He’s a big fan.”

Tag smiled.  I love this town.


***


As the private plane rolled past the huge windows of Terminal B, the crowd with so many faces pressed up against the glass let out a collective cheer.  This was followed by a cacophony of voices, all clamoring about the latest sighting of one of the cities own heroes.

Equally caught up in the excitement and discussion were an African-American teenager and her classmate.  “Clare, was that amazing or what?” Anita Hanson asked.  “We’re not here in Del Oeste for twenty minutes and already we get to see some guy in amazing action right in front of us.”

“Excuse me, young lady,” a blonde haired preppy male standing next to the girls interjected.  “That wasn’t just ‘some guy’ – that was Tag, the coolest celebrity to hit this city since…well…since Paradigm and Dream Girl.  Clearly you must be out-of-towners.”

“Whatever,” Anita rolled her eyes at the man.  After he moved on, she turned back to her friend and got all excited again.  “You hear that?  That was Tag!  Boy, are Keith and Jimmy going to be jealous when we tell them about this.  Too bad Dream Girl wasn’t with him.  The guys would really flip then!”

The blonde haired teen nodded as she continued to stare out the window.  “Yeah, they sure will, Anita,” Clare Harper said absently with a sigh.  And I couldn’t even break away to go and offer any help.  Some heroine I am.  She turned and noticed how the crowd was continuing to buzz about seeing their local celebrity in action.  Too bad they couldn’t get to see Lodestone in action.  That would have made their evening, I bet.  Still, how would I have explained that one to Anita?  ‘Lodestone was here?  Really?  Cool.’  Right.  Like what would be the odds of us and Lodestone being at this airport at the exact same time?  Like a bazillion to one.  My secret identity would be blown for sure. 

Clare considered.  Still, maybe I can find a way to meet Tag and Dream Girl while we’re here…

Anita tapped her friend on the shoulder.  “Earth to Clare, Earth to Clare,” she said.  “What’s with you, girlfriend?”

Clare shrugged her shoulder.  “Nothing really,” she lied.  “Maybe I’ve got a little jetlag is all.”

“Uh huh,” Anita nodded.  She thought for a half-second.  “But aren’t you supposed to get that from flying from west to east, and not the other way around?”

Clare shrugged her shoulders.  “I don’t know.”

“There you two are!” a voice called from the edge of the crowd.  The two turned in time to see their brown haired classmate Cynthia Brekmann.  “I thought you two were going to head down to baggage claim while I used the phone.”

“We were,” Anita said, “and then all this stuff outside started up with Tag chasing after this plane and…”

Cynthia held up her hand.  “Whatever.  We need to go get our stuff before it ends up in Unclaimed Luggage.”

“Did you get a hold of your mom?” Clare asked as the trio began their walk towards the down escalator.

“Yeah, I did,” Cynthia said, attempting to hide the frustration in her voice but not doing a great job at it.  “She said she lost track of time but is on her way now.  By the time we get our stuff and haul it out to the curbside, she should be along – assuming the traffic isn’t insane.”


Another fifteen minutes later, a dark blue Impala pulled alongside the curb at the airport just a few feet past where the three girls from Victoria, Georgia, were waiting.  The car came to a stop, the trunk popped open and the driver emerged from the vehicle. 

“There you are, honey!” a tall woman dressed in a pink polo shirt and a white tennis skirt as she rushed around the backside of the car to greet the girls.  “It is so good to see you!”  Natalie threw her arms about Cynthia and gave her a great big hug.

Cynthia sniffed and frowned even more than she had been before.  “Hi, Mom,” she said flatly.

She released her daughter from the embrace and turned to address all three.  “I’m sorry about being late, girls.  I came home after work and wanted to take a quickie nap.  I guess I just lost track of the time.”  Natalie gave the two other teenagers a good once over.  “So, based on what Cynthia’s father has told me, you two must be Clare and Anita.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Brekmann,” Clare said.

“It’s Brooks,” the wavy brown haired woman replied.  “Or you can just call me ‘Natalie’ if you girls want.”

“You went back to your maiden name, Mom?” Cynthia asked.

“I had to, sweetie,” she replied as she helped her daughter with her bags.  “You know, I got back into the working world after your father and I split up.”  She moved the bag over to the back of the car and fumbled with it.  “Since I was trying to pick up on my career from where it was before I got married, I thought it better to use ‘Brooks’ again.  That way I could renew former contacts and such more quickly.”

Cynthia took over, lifted up the suitcase and put it into the trunk of the car without another word.

“Thanks,” Natalie said.  “You girls can put your bags in there too, and then maybe we’ll pick something up to eat on the way home.”

“Good,” Anita said as she placed her luggage next to Cynthia’s.  “I’m starving.”

“They didn’t feed you on the plane, huh?”

“Just some snacks,” Clare added after she put her bag into the car and closed the trunk.

“Well, then,” Natalie said, “I guess I better be a good parent and get you girls a real meal.  How does Mexican sound?  There’s an authentic place I know up in El Cajon that makes the best burritos.  Not that fake processed stuff they sell at the fast food places like Bueno Nacho. Cynthia, you know the restaurant I’m talking about.  We used to go all the time when you were still living here.  El Coti…something…”

“El Cotixan,” Cynthia stated.  “I remember when it is.  I’ll drive.”  She held out her hand, waiting for her mother to hand her the keys.

Natalie jangled them and said, “Are you sure?”

 Cynthia took them quickly.  “I think its best, don’t you?”  She gave her mother a knowing look. She then proceeded to head to the driver’s side of the car.

Natalie turned to Clare and Anita.  “Climb in the backseat, girls,” she said.  “We’ll let Cynthia play chauffer and I’ll be tour guide.  I can give you all the details of the sites as we drive past them.”

The two teens nodded and hopped into the back of the car.  Natalie got into the passenger side of the front and shut the door.  Cynthia had started the car but waited before pulling out.  “Something wrong, honey?” the mother asked.

“Seatbelt,” Cynthia said flatly.

“Oh, right,” Natalie replied, fumbled for the belt and pulled it across her chest.  “Sorry.”  Once her daughter heard the click of the belt snapping into the holder, she put the car into drive and pulled out.  “Off to Mexican. Ole!”

“I’m going to pull thru a Java Station too along the way,” Cynthia stated as she kept her eyes focused on the road.  “If you were ‘sleepy’ earlier, I’m sure you could use some coffee right about now.”

Natalie was about to address her daughter’s flip comment but held her tongue.


***


Later in the evening, two of the girls were in the guest bathroom at Natalie Brook’s home.  The young blonde closed the door most of the way and turned on one of the faucets to partial fill a sink.  “Say, Anita,” Clare said, “was it me or did you sense some tension between Cynthia and her mother?”

The other girl spit the excess toothpaste into the second bowl.  “How so?”

Clare wrinkled her nose.  “I’m not quite sure,” she admitted.  “I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Not everyone is as close to their mother as you are, you know,” Anita pointed out.  “Besides, Cyn’s parents are divorced.  That’ll put some tension on things right there.  It’s been less than a year.  They divorced just before she and her dad moved to Victoria.    Cynthia’s probably just caught up in the middle off all that junk.  You know how she is – she likes everything to be just so.”

“From the way Mr. Brekmann acts, I assumed the split was amicable.”

“He probably acts that way because it’s better for him that way, and for Cynthia.  He’s trying to move on and everything.”

“I suppose,” Clare said.  She splashed some water on her face.  “Still, Cynthia’s been pretty short all night and kind of cold.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Anita said.  “She gets like that a lot.  Don’t let her mood damper our vacation, you know.  We’re out here to soak up some sun and fun.  You know, see how the other coast lives.”

“You’re right there.”  Clare continued to cleanse her face.


***


In the room down the hall, Cynthia walked in on her mother making up one of the beds.  “Do you think the girls will want extra blankets?” Natalie asked as she tucked in the sheets.

“I’ll get them out if they need any,” Cynthia said shortly, “assuming you haven’t moved them from the hall closet where we used to keep them.”

“They’re in the same place,” the woman confirmed.  She watched as her daughter for a moment as Cynthia began to adjust the sheets she had just been working on.  The way the teenager tugged and shoved them in place concerned her.  “Honey, is something wrong?”

Cynthia stopped and moved closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.  “Mom, you know what’s wrong!”

“What?” Natalie asked in a normal voice.

“Sshhhhh,” Cynthia said.  “They’ll hear us.”

“What are you talking about?” Natalie said more softly.

“What am I talking about?  How about the alcohol I smelled on your breath when you picked us up, or the fact that you were late to begin with?”  Cynthia frowned.  “Mom, you’re back drinking, aren’t you?”

Natalie knew her daughter had her on the first item, so she didn’t even try to deny it.  “Okay, I admit I had a drink after work today to unwind.  I was excited that you were coming out and wanted to bring your friends with you to visit.”  She paused a second.  “And, you know, it is can be very stressful for a woman my age, even one in as fabulous shape as I am, to be back into the work force after so long.  It’s not like I’m in my twenties like most of the women I have to compete against for promotions and such.  It gets harder when you get older, trust me.  So, I occasionally have them after work, to relax.”

“Them?” 

Natalie blinked, confused.  “Them?  Them who, honey?”

“Them!  You had more than one drink tonight, didn’t you?  Were you passed out when I called to find out where you were?  Is that why you forgot to pick us up at the airport on time?”

Natalie’s face grew red.  “I don’t appreciate the interrogation, young lady, especially given that your father moved all the way across the country and took you with him!  When you both left, that ended your rights to judge me and how I handle my personal business.”

“Mom, it is your business,” Cynthia said, “but not when I come all this way to visit you.  I won’t have you embarrass me in front of my new friends.  I can’t take that.  Not…”  The brown haired teen stopped suddenly when she heard her friends coming down the hall.  She got up suddenly to intercept them and quickly changed her demeanor.  “All through in the bathroom?”

“Uh, yeah,” Anita said.

Natalie rose and moved towards the door.  “I’m going to let you girls get settled,” she said.  “I’m sure you don’t want an old mom hanging out with you.”  She slipped past the trio and headed downstairs.

“So, anyone up for a movie?” Cynthia asked.

Clare shook her head.  “I’m kind of zonked after all that travel.  Maybe we should call it a night.”


***


Two mornings later, Natalie Brooks rushed down to the kitchen, still adjusting her outfit for work, and came upon the three teenagers putting together their plates for breakfast. “You girls are early risers,” she remarked.

“We’re still operating on Eastern Standard Time,” Anita said.

“Can we get you anything?” Clare asked.

“No thanks,” the woman shook her head.  “I’m not a big breakfast person.”  She glanced over at the counter where Cynthia was pouring a cup of freshly brewed coffee.  “Though some coffee to go would be good.”

Cynthia grabbed a travel mug from the cupboard and poured some for her.  “Mom, at least take some fruit or something,” the daughter offered.

Natalie spied some bacon on the plate in the center of the table and plucked up a slice.  “There.  Happy?” she asked between bites.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” Cynthia sighed as she sat down at the table to eat with Clare and Anita.

Natalie took a sip of the coffee and enjoyed its taste as it rolled down her throat.  “Mmm,” she said.  “So, what have you girls got planned for today?  One of my co-workers is picking me up in a bit so you can have the car all day.  Maybe the zoo or Ocean World?”

“I don’t think so,” Cynthia said.  “We decided on two missions before we left Victoria.”  She held up two fingers and counted them down.  Anita joined her as they both said in unison: “beaches and boutiques”.

“Really?” the mother asked.  “That’s your big vacation plans?”

 “Totally,” Cynthia replied firmly.  “Sun and fun before the beaches get too over crowded, and then shopping before the stores close up.”

“Actually,” Clare said. “If you two don’t mind, I was hoping I could go and look up a friend of mine here in Del Oeste today.”

“I didn’t know you knew anyone here in town,” Cynthia said.

“Well, it is someone I’ve ‘known’ for a number of years, though I’ve never actually met her,” Clare said.

“Wait…what?” Natalie looked confused.

“It is someone I’ve corresponded to for years, in an APA,” Clare explained.

“A what?” Cynthia inquired.

“An APA, an amateur press association,” Clare replied.  “Basically, it is a bunch of people living in various cities across the country and some in Canada too that correspond to one another as part of a bimonthly publication.  We share articles, stories and such.  One person coordinates the whole thing, gathering submissions from those involved, making copies and mailing the whole thing back to everyone.”

“Oh, kind of like pen-pals?” the mother asked.

Clare nodded.  “Kind of.”

“What kind of articles and stories?” Cynthia asked.

“What?” Clare said, pretending to have not heard.

“Does this APA-thingee have some kind of theme or something?”

Anita started to chuckle.  “I know,” she said with a knowing smile.

“What, Hanson?” Cynthia said.  “Tell us.”

She turned to Clare.  “You want to or should I?” she asked with a laugh.

Clare swallowed.  “Nancy Drew,” she admitted softly.

“Nancy Drew?” Cynthia asked.  “Really?”

“Yeah, the APA is for fans of the Nancy Drew mysteries,” Clare admitted.

“Clare’s a huge fan,” Anita added.  “Been one since 5th grade.  She tried to get me into it too, but I never took to it as much as she did.  I drew the line when Clare wanted to go investigate the supposed ‘eerie’ lights she thought she saw at the old Keller place.”

“Nancy Drew,” Natalie repeated.  “Ah, I remember there was a TV show about her in the late 70’s.  Though I preferred the weeks when the Hardy Boys were on.  Mmmmm, Sean Cassidy.  Even though I was in college then I still thought he was yummy.”

“Mom, please, too much information,” Cynthia said.

“Oh, come on now, honey,” the mother replied.  “If I remember right, you used to read some of those books in junior high.”

“You did?” Clare asked.

“Really?” Anita queried.

“Right, for all of like two weeks,” Cynthia said dismissively.  “Then I moved on.”

There was a honk of a car horn coming from the driveway.  “Oh,” Natalie exclaimed.  “There’s my ride.”  She hustled across the room and picked up her briefcase from the barstool where she deposited it the night before.  “You girls have fun today. And Clare, enjoy your visit with your friend.  Call if you’ll be late.”

“I will, Ms. Brooks,” the blonde replied.  “Thanks.”

As Natalie rushed out the door, Anita turned to her friend. “So, you want us to come hang with you and your ‘friend’?” she asked.

“No,” Clare said quickly.  “You two would be bored.  You should just go do what you planned on doing.  I won’t feel like I’m missing out or anything.”

“You sure?”

“Anita, I’m positive.”

“Good,” said Cynthia, “because it sounds boring to me anyway. I mean, really, spending the day talking about a fictional character with someone who might turn out to be some kind of psycho dweeb.  Not that you’re a psycho one, mind you.”  She smirked.

“Hey!” Clare was about to protest.

“She’s just pulling your leg, Clare,” Anita said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I am,” Cynthia admitted.  “Still, looks like that just leaves more boys and bargains for Hanson and I to share.”

“I heard that,” Anita said.


***


A little later that morning, Clare waved as her two friends drove off in the dark blue Impala.  She then turned and walked briskly down the downtown Del Oeste street, looking for someplace a bit more secluded to change into the costume in her backpack.

I hated to lie to Anita and Cynthia, she thought to herself, though it wasn’t a total lie.  One of my old APA friends used to live in Del Oeste, up until a few months ago.  But, I very well couldn’t tell them the real reason I was ditching them for the day.

She glanced across the skyline at the steel and glass high-rises of the business district and smiled.  With the way the cool breeze blew off the Pacific and caused the clouds to gently float along in a non-threatening way, she couldn’t wait to stretch her muscles and to fly.  But first I need to change into my costume.


***


The seventh floor of the Carmichael Building was leased out to one specific business, and inside one of the large offices on that floor sat the two people who headed up the operations and whose names were on the front door in very professional script.

The man had short cut dark hair, styled and spiked with a generous helping of gel, with a few stray strands hanging down over his forehead.  He had solid, chiseled facial features which matched his well cut, muscular physique.  He was dressed today like he did most days, in dark colors.  It was a combination that suited him well; he looked damn fine in black and deep, dark blues and he knew it.

The woman was hardly a slouch in the looks department either.  She was tall and well-built; her body no doubt toned from daily regimented exercise.  Her beautiful, model-like face was framed by a mane of long, blonde hair.  Almost in contrast to her partner, she wore a skintight pantsuit of white with an off-the-shoulder top.

“So, any luck getting any more information out of Tyler Mulland?” Tag asked his partner.

Dream Girl shook her head.  “I wasn’t even able to get in to lock-up to see him,” she frowned.  “He hired Trent Jensen as his attorney, and I was shutdown on the request for visitation.  The good news is he hasn’t made parole, yet.”

Tag winced.  “Jensen?  Cripes!”

“Really.  Clearly our little director of R&D…”

“Former director,” Tag interrupted.  “PacifiCorp released a statement yesterday saying that Mulland was removed from his position pending investigation, which might have something to do with me catching him red-handed trying to smuggle some equipment out of the country.”  He reached back over to the desk and grabbed a folded newspaper section.  He held it up and tapped the page.  “Did you see the picture in yesterday’s news?  Front page, baby.  How’s that for some free PR?”  He put the paper down on the table before them.

Dream Girl rolled her lovely emerald eyes.  “As I was saying, clearly Mulland must have quite the savings to be able to put Jensen on retainer so quickly.  Either that or he just came into a pile of cash.  Jensen is one of the best criminal lawyers in town, but he doesn’t come cheap.”

“I can talk to Mr. Wilkenson at PacifiCorp and get anything we need from Mulland’s personnel records.  The old man was so thankful that we stopped that creep from skipping town with his latest pet-project that he’d be happy to help us investigate further.”

“What was that pet-project exact…?”

Dream Girl’s question was cut short by a slight tapping sound coming from the huge window that provided a gorgeous view of the ocean not too far away.

At the sound, Tag sprang from his seat, his hand reaching for a nearby weapon.  He spun about and took aim with the handgun toward the window just as his partner yelled.

“Tag, stop!”  Dream Girl stepped between him and the window.  “Easy, cowboy.  I don’t think we’re in any danger.”  She turned and saw the blonde haired figure of a teenaged girl, dressed in a spandex costume of gray and red with a red mask covering a portion of her face, just floating outside the window and waving slightly in a very non-threatening way.  “I think we have some company though.  Why don’t you let her in?”

The man nodded, put down the weapon and moved to the window to unlock it.  Then he gave the frame a good tug to the left.  As the glass slid aside along a metal track, Tag said “Hey, little lady.  Is the elevator broken or what?”

Lodestone looked a bit confused.  “What?  Oh, no…it’s not…I just…”

“Don’t mind him,” Dream Girl said as she moved her partner aside and extended a hand.  “Why don’t you come inside, Lodestone, before you start to draw a crowd?”

The teenager nodded.  Good point.

“Thank you,” Lodestone said as she took the offered hand and landed on the window edge.  Her magnetic powers made it easy for her to keep a steady balance before ducking her head to climb into the room.  “It is really nice to meet you, Dream Girl.  I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

Tag moved around to the other side of the desk.  “Well, my dear, this is a place of business, you know - ‘Tag and Dream Girl: Heroes for Hire’ and all.”

“Tag, don’t be rude.”

“I was just saying that we’re technically still on the clock,” he explained.  “We aren’t done with the PacifiCorp case yet.”

“The one involving the guy you apprehended at the airport the other night?” Lodestone inquired.

The man blinked at that.  “How did you…?”

Dream Girl picked up the newspaper Tag was waving at her earlier and playfully tossed it at him.  “Just an example of your free PR at work,” she said with a smile.  “Unlike some people, I bet she scans the paper for more than just seeing if they spelled her name correctly.  Not that it’s nearly impossible to mess up three little letters.”

Tag clutched at his chest and pretended to stagger backwards.  “Oh…you cut me…right where it hurts…” he groaned playfully.

Lodestone tried not to giggle.

“No worries,” Dream Girl said to Lodestone.  “I only grazed his ego.  It would take a lot more that that to down that gargantuan beast.”

This time, the southern heroine couldn’t keep in the giggle.  In fact, it came out in a big burst. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized.

 “I like this kid,” Tag said with a smile.  “She appreciates the arts.”

For the second time in five minutes, Dream Girl rolled her eyes at her partner.  “Can we offer you something, Lodestone?  Coffee?  Tea?” she asked the guest.

“A Diet Coke,” Lodestone replied, “if that wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”  Dream Girl flicked the intercom on the desk and gave the request to the secretary just outside the office. “So, what brings you here?  You’re a little far from Victoria, Georgia.”

“Oh,” Lodestone said.  “I happened to be in town and I wanted to drop in.  I thought it would be a nice thing to do, seeing we’re all in the same line of business.”  She turned to Tag.  “Not ‘business’ business, per se.  Not that I do this for money.  I mean…I know you do, and that’s okay, I guess.  It’s just…”

“We all do what we can how we can,” Tag stated.  “At the end of the day, it’s all about righting the wrongs and catching the bad guys.”

“And helping people,” Dream Girl added.

The intercom on the desk buzzed.

Tag hit the button.  “Yeah, talk to me.”

The voice on the other end said, “Mr. Tyson, sorry to interrupt.  But I think you should turn on channel 3!  The news is covering something big happening live at the corner of 14th and F Street.”

Tag grabbed for the remote and flipped on the TV across the way.  “14th and F – that’s…”

“PacifiCorp!” Dream Girl finished his thought.

As the screen came into focus, a news camera was panning across the side of the PacifiCorp building.  There, on the south end, was a huge gaping hole with rubble of the once solid wall scattered across the sidewalk.

The three heroes didn’t wait to hear what the reporter was saying; they were already at their feet and moving.  “Should I…?” Lodestone started to ask.

“Go!” Tag ordered.  “We’ll be right behind you after we suit up!”

Lodestone turned to Dream Girl.  “Uh, where’s 14th and F?”

“Four blocks to your left, then over one,” the slightly older heroine said.  “We’ll be along right after you.”

Lodestone nodded, went to the window, climbed out on the ledge and flew off.



(to be continued)