16
Throw Off the Bowlines
“Bronson,” came a voice from nowhere, “wake up, buddy. Don’t you hear the sirens?”
As the world came back into focus Bronson heard them. And rain spitting on wood. And the frenzied sloshing of the river.
He opened his eyes. Wylie was leaning over him, shaking his shoulders to wake him up.
Bronson threw his knee into the older man’s gut then scrambled across the dock.
Wylie held his stomach, hunched over, glaring at the boy. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but—”
“Yeah, well pointing a gun at somebody will do that,” Bronson said. “Hey, where’s my mask?”
“Right here,” Wylie said, pulling it out from under his jacket. “They left it so the cops could ID you.”
Bronson saw the trawler floating out on the river several yards from the dock. “But why would they leave you behind?” he asked.
“Applebottom kicked me off. Said getting you involved meant no deal. Smart move on his part. I would have messed it up somehow anyway.”
Bronson took his mask from Wylie then pulled it back on over his head. The sirens grew louder.
“I know you miss her, Mr. Morgan, but if you ever want to be anything but a coward you need think more of yourself. It doesn’t take a whole lot of bravery to shoot an unarmed man.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Wylie said. “Once they hit the suspension bridge Applebottom’s going to take care of it anyway. Now you’d better get out of here. If I can keep you safe maybe it’ll make up for all of this.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Mr. Morgan,” Dogboy said, “I’m here to save you. You want to make up for it? Want to stop being a coward? Then help me save Dexter Stonehouse.”
Wylie stood there for a moment, staring at the ridiculous boy in the cheap costume. The rain picked up, drenching both of them. Wylie took off his jacket, throwing it down on the dock.
“I’m in,” he said.
The waves beat against the sides of the Mariska as a gale pushed it through the water. The rain beat against the deck with the sound of crinkling cellophane. Dogboy steered the ship. Wylie scooped out the excess water with a metal pail.
Ahead of them the trawler sped toward the bridge. Dogboy could make out the silhouettes of Stonehouse and Applebottom in the upper cabin.
“So what’s the plan once we catch up to them?” Wylie asked, dumping another pail of water over the rail.
“We have to catch them first. Keep bailing,” Dogboy said.
The sail twisted in the wind. Dogboy pulled on the kicker, a set of pulleys at the base of the main sail, which lowered the boom. The sail straightened out, and the boat picked up speed.
“Look,” Wylie said, “they’re slowing down.”
“Finally, a break” Dogboy shouted as he swung the tiller to the left.
The Mariska zoomed up along the trawler’s starboard side. A spark shot off the sailboat’s mast.
Applebottom stood out on the deck, Stonehouse shaking beside him as he took shots at the sailboat.
Dogboy pulled the tiller, swinging them around in a wide arc, until the bow of his ship was pointed squarely at the front of the trawler.
Applebottom shoved Stonehouse back in the cabin then followed him inside.
As the Mariska zoomed toward the trawler its engines groaned to life. It tottered forward but not soon enough.
The ship’s bows smacked together. A sound like a pained animal shook the ship and the air around them. Dogboy pulled out of it, scraping the boat’s port side as he did.
Wylie reached into his pocket, pulling out a Derringer pistol smaller than a soda can. He turned then took a few shots at the trawler as it veered off in the other direction.
“No!” Dogboy shouted, letting go of the tiller. He smacked the gun out of Wylie’s hand, sending it into the river.
“We’re trying to save them,” he said. “You don’t save somebody by shooting at them.”
“That shuckster opened fire on us. I was returning the favor.”
“Yeah, but he’s the bad guy. We’re supposed to be the good guys, right? You sure have a lot to learn about superheroing.”
Two bright lights hit the boat. Dogboy looked behind them. The lights were mounted on the trawler, which raced toward the smaller vessel.
A loud boom cut through the storm. A splash several feet off the port side, then a fountain of water shot five feet into the air.
“They have a freaking cannon?” Dogboy said. He adjusted the sails, the ship keeling hard as it sailed away.
“She’s taking on water,” Wylie said.
They passed under the suspension bridge toward a sharp bend that curved around the Thoth Chemical factory. The water took on a red hue. Thick, frothy foam sloshed around on the surface.
Another boom.
The cannonball ripped through the main sail, hitting the water in front of them. The radio on Dogboy’s belt chirped to life. The sound of sirens cut through the static.
“Dogboy,” said Cindy’s voice, “I don’t know what you’re doing out there but you’d better finish it up fast.”
Dogboy snatched the radio from his belt as the Mariska stopped dead in the water.
“I think we just did,” he said.
“You gotta get back here,” she said. “About a dozen cop cars just showed up. They’re everywhere, and a couple took off on some police boats. Must’ve been those big explosions. What were those anyway?”
“Cannonballs. Look I—” Dogboy said.
The trawler pulled up beside them. Its engines cut out. The cabin door slammed open.
“Cindy, I gotta go,” he said. He threw the radio overboard then snatched up a piece of the sail, throwing it over Wylie’s head. “Get down. Quick.”
Applebottom looked down from the upper deck of the trawler. “Kid, you got guts I’ll give you that,” he said. “Where’s Morgan?”
“He fell in when you hit us. Please, sir, I’m just a kid. Don’t leave me out here.”
“I ain’t got room on board for snitches.”
Dogboy fell to his knees, folding his hands together as he held them up in the air.
“Please. It was Mr. Morgan. He made me do it. You saw the look in his eyes… like he was completely nuts or something.”
“Don’t give me that claptrap, ya’ little twerp. I get around town. I’ve seen those posters up everywhere.” Applebottom tossed a rope ladder over the side. “And I know about the reward. Climb up, kiddo. You just won a ride.”
“Hold on, let me tie my shoe so I don’t slip,” Dogboy said. He leaned over, undid his lace, then retied it as he whispered to Wylie under the sail.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be back in a sec. If I’m not you gotta go find my friend Cindy. She’s down on the pier somewhere. Just look for a girl with a baseball cap and brown eyes.”
“I can’t let you do this alone,” Wylie said. “I can’t just hide from things anymore.”
“You gotta, Mr. Morgan,” Dogboy said. “If this doesn’t work you’ll be the last guy left who can stop him.”
Dogboy’s foot slipped on the deck as he crawled over the railing. He fell onto his stomach then felt Applebottom’s heel press into his back.
“You thought you were gonna stop me, huh?” Applebottom said. “Little jerk in a stupid costume gonna get one over on me?”
“You know, from this angle you look kinda like Burt Reynolds,” Dogboy said.
“Funny stuff, kid. If Mayor Lane wasn’t gonna lock you up tonight I’d get you a set at Johnny’s. Get up.”
Applebottom moved his foot. Dogboy stood and faced him.
“Where’s Stonehouse?” he said.
“Passed out in the cabin. Had to use the old sleepy juice on him once he figured out what was up.”
“But he’s still alive?”
“For now.”
Red and blue lights flashed on either side of the trawler. Applebottom pulled out his pistol. “Take off your mask,” he said. Dogboy obeyed. Applebottom grabbed him around the neck, holding the pistol to his temple as he edged back toward the cabin.
An officer shouted into a megaphone from the police boat’s deck. “This is the Colta City Police. Put your hands up and step away from the child,” the officer said.
“I don’t think so, scumbag,” Applebottom said. “You and your guys better stay back or else this kid is gonna have a lousy night.”
The officer put up his hands, taking a step back. Applebottom opened the cabin door and took Bronson inside.
“Put the mask back on, kid. Anything to cover that mug on ya’… Sheesh!” Applebottom ran to the helm and started the engine. Dogboy slipped his mask back on.
“Sit over there,” Applebottom said, pointing to a small couch where Dexter Stonehouse sat snoring.
The trawler rolled on toward the bend in the river. The rain lightened, and the clouds parted. The moonlight hit the red water, making the waves look bloody and sick.
Applebottom hunched over the wheel, sweat pouring down his scalp.
“Think we’re looking at a change of plans, kid. They’re good, those cops. No lights. Smart. But they’re back there. We ain’t getting away, not in this whale of a thing. Best case scenario we turn back and they follow us until we run out of fuel. I ain’t going to jail. I’ll tell you that much.”
“So what are you going to do?” Dogboy asked, sneaking his hand behind his back.
“Looking for your little dagger things?” Applebottom asked. He tapped his foot on a lockbox below the helm. “Got ’em right here.”
Forgot about that, Dogboy thought.
“So I can’t get away, and I can’t get caught. Guess the only thing left is to make sure I leave with a bang. I figure taking you and Stonehouse down ought to do it. There’s a big whirlpool up here that opened up after an old subway tunnel collapsed a few weeks back. Let’s see how far down it goes.”
The trawler turned the bend, and the whirlpool came into view. It stretched thirty feet across. Dead wood swirled around the outer edge.
“What about the reward?” Dogboy asked. “They can’t give it to you if you’re dead.”
“Ah, the reward was just a bonus for dealing with your crap. Stoney over there has the real bucks, and I ain’t taking him out clean now. Blaze of glory it is.”
Dogboy’s mind raced, trying to find a way out. He looked around the cabin for something he could use. A few suitcases, some magazines, a case of bottled water. Nothing of value.
He closed his eyes and concentrated, squeezing them tight. He focused, blocking out the sound of the river outside. An orange flash—
Stonehouse grabbing him. Throwing him on the cabin floor. Water crashing through the windows. Water filling his—
The vision was gone.
He jumped off the couch just as Stonehouse’s arms reached out for him. Stonehouse swayed counter to the rhythm of the water, his eyes droopy and vacant.
“Morning, Mr. Stonehouse,” Applebottom said. “Keep cool. We’re almost there.”
“Gerald? But… but you were going to shoot me,” Stonehouse said.
“That’s been done before,” Applebottom said, “but I figured drowning you would be just as fun.”
The boat rocked forward, the nose tilting down below the water’s surface. A metal thermos rolled across the floor, stopping in front of Dogboy. He plucked it up then chucked it at Applebottom. The thermos bounced off his skull, ringing as it hit against the bone.
Applebottom jumped out of his chair. The ship lurched, sending him flying across the cabin. A CRACK as his head smacked a metal pole in the center of the room. His body went limp, falling over, then hit the ground.
Red and blue lights shone through the windows.
“This is the police,” came the officer’s voice through the megaphone. “If you want to stay alive you need to get off the ship now. We’re on your starboard side waiting to take you aboard. Put your hands up and come out.”
“Come on,” Dogboy said as he pulled Stonehouse outside. They ran down the steps to the lower deck then to the starboard side. An officer was standing on the deck of the police vessel fifteen feet out from the trawler.
“Catch this,” the officer yelled, tossing a length of rope across the water. Dogboy caught it then tied it around Stonehouse.
“Jump in,” he said. “They’ll pull you over and bring you up the ladder on the side there. Hurry.”
“Send the boy over first, sir,” the policeman yelled.
Stonehouse looked at Dogboy unsure of what to do. Dogboy pushed him over the rail into the river.
The trawler spun around the whirlpool as Stonehouse climbed up the ladder onto the boat. The officer threw the rope back over to Dogboy, but he was too far away to catch it.
Okay, powers, Dogboy thought, if you want to stop flaking out on me now would be a great time.
Dogboy imagined his body floating through the air… like floating in the deep end of the pool. His chest got warmer. The familiar orange aura surrounded him. His feet left the boat, his body floating several feet above the water.
The trawler got caught in the whirlpool, spinning around until the vortex swallowed it whole.
Dogboy floated over to the police boat as the men on board stared up in amazement. He waved to Stonehouse.
“It’s been fun saving you, and remember… I. Am. Dogboy.” He darted out across the water, back to his stranded friend, leaving a very confused Dexter Stonehouse to the officer’s questions.
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