11
Leash Law
Bronson scratched BE BACK IN 1 HOUR on a slate then hung it on the front door. He wasn’t sure exactly how the customers were supposed to know when the hour started, but Mr. Horum never seemed too worried when he did it. An orange flash— the door swings open, sending him falling back on his butt as Cindy barges in. She laughs.
Bronson stepped back as Cindy barged in. He wasn’t sure where his powers came from (or why they weren’t working right) but they did come in handy when the greatest threat to his well being was mild embarrassment.
“Oh my God,” she said, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. “There were— we were standing there talking then they were everywhere.”
Bronson put his hand on her shoulder, checking her eyes to make sure she wasn’t having a seizure or something. “Calm down. Who was everywhere? Come back to me, Cindy. I need more information.”
“It was that big guy from the Guild,” she said. “He’s the one who took my friend, then he tried to grab the rest of us.”
“What would the Guild want with a bunch of ordinary kids?” he said.
Cindy sat down in the throne by the front window. “How should I know? Maybe he knew we were out looking for him,” she said.
“Who’s we?”
“The jerk squad. Remember?” she said. “I lost them, but their supposed to meet me on this street somewhere.”
“You didn’t tell them anything about me, did you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “You think I’d admit to hanging out with a kid in a dog mask?”
“Hot John’s pretty tough. A kid without powers going up against that guy? He might already have them.” Bronson ducked down behind the counter. Dogboy stood up a moment later, his mask on and his cape hanging limp behind him.
Dogboy helped Cindy up, led her out the door, then locked it behind him. They walked down the street together, catching strange glances from the adults they passed. A small boy ran up, holding a notebook out in front of him.
“Dogboy?” the boy asked. “You’re the real Dogboy? For honest?”
Dogboy took the notebook, signing his name in big block letters. “Yep, that’s me. Here you go, buddy,” he said.
“Hey, Dogboy, I heard you threw some guy off a building the other night. The mayor sounded pretty mad about it on TV. He’s gotta be wrong, right? A real superhero would never throw a guy off a roof.”
A knot grew in Dogboy’s throat like a cotton ball caught behind his larynx. He checked the strap on his mask to make sure it would stay put then knelt down and looked the boy in the eyes. “Look, the mayor was telling the truth for once. I didn’t mean to do it though. I would never hurt somebody like that on purpose. No hero would.”
“So it was an accident?” the boy asked.
“You remember all those thieves I fought a few weeks back?” Dogboy asked.
The boy smiled. “How do you think I heard about you?”
“I put their leader in a coma, so they don’t like me too much. The guy from the hospital was one of them, and when he tried to hurt me my powers went nuts. Knocked him right off the roof.”
“Oh, so it was just a stupid bad guy? That makes sense. Thanks for the autograph, Mr. Dogboy.” the boy said. He ran to his friends and showed off the new autograph.
“Gee whiz, Mr. Dogboy, tell me all about your fantabulous adventures,” Cindy said, throwing her hand to her forehead as if she was going to faint.
“When you’re done making fun of me maybe we should start looking for your friends before the cops show up.”
“Why worry?” Cindy asked. “Seems like anybody who stands in your way gets the ol’ light show these days.”
“It was an accident. Maybe you should look for them yourself if you’re so worried,” Dogboy said, turning tail back toward the shop.
Cindy grabbed Dogboy’s shoulder. “Stop being goofy. I’m just messing with you.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like ‘just messing,’ ya know?” Dogboy cocked his head then pointed behind her. “Look. There’s the big doofus.”
The black carriage pulled up on the curb. Hot John hoped from the driver’s bench down to the street. He held Osbert’s device in his hand as he spun around in a slow circle.
“What’s that he’s holding?” Cindy asked.
“I don’t know, but he had it last night. Maybe it’s a radio like we use. Or a phone?”
“No, it’s too big for anything like that,” she said. “Wish I could get a closer look.”
Hot John stopped his rotation, the device pointed in their direction. He looked up at them and smiled. “Found ya, ya stupid kid,” he said.
Dogboy grabbed Cindy by the shoulders. “Go. Hide. If something happens, go back to the shop and wait for Mr. Horum to call. He can help you find their hideout. Now go.”
Cindy ran off, ducking into an alley. Dogboy turned to face his doltish foe. Hot John took a step toward the boy. “Listen here, mutt,” he said. “You gotta come with me now or I’m gonna start paying ya’ back for last night.”
“Didn’t think a certified genius like you would remember,” Dogboy said. “I’m touched.”
“You think your some real smart guy or something, don’t ya? Let’s hear you make jokes after I smash ya’.”
A police car turned the corner. The red and blues flashed, the siren sang, and the speaker turned on. “Everybody stay where you are. You. Put your hands above your head and lay face down on the ground or we’ll have to use force.”
Hot John, thinking the police were talking to him, put up his hands and approached the vehicle. “Aw, why you guys gotta spoil my fun,” he said.
The officer in the passenger’s seat rolled down his window. “Sir, please stop where you are. We’re here for the boy. Sit tight and we’ll be out of your way in a jiff.”
“You wanna take Dogboy?” Hot John asked.
“Yes, sir. By order of the mayor,” the officer said.
“The mayor’s gonna have to get in line.” Hot John slammed his mallet hand into the car’s windshield, sending glass slivers flying in the policemen’s faces. He reached through the passenger window, pulled the officer out, then slammed him into the pavement.
Hot John jumped on the hood of the car then kicked the other officer in the face. He slumped against the wheel. “Wonder what kinda stuff they got in here?” Hot John said as he strolled across the top of the police car. He jumped off the back then slammed the trunk with his mallet until it popped open.
Dogboy closed his eyes, pulling upon the strange power inside him. He imagined orange light flowing from his palms as he aimed them at his enemy. His hands glowed orange for a second before they didn’t, leaving Dogboy defenseless. But he doesn’t know that, Dogboy thought.
“Hey. Yeah you. The big clown behind the cop car. You remember what I did to you before? Get in that trunk right now or else I’m gonna have to do it again.”
Hot John pulled a duffel bag from the trunk. “I owe you for that, you little punk. Good thing these officers have so many toys to pay ya’ back with.” He reached in the bag and pulled out a cylindrical device with a ring and pin stuck through the top.
“What a pretty little ring,” Hot John said, slipping his index finger through it. “Wonder what happens if I pull it?”
He pulled the pin out, tossing it through the broken windshield behind him. He held it up by his ear. “I think it’s broke. Want it?” He tossed it to the mangy masked crime fighter, who ran when a flash forward told him he should. The cylinder hit the pavement as he dove behind a newspaper dispenser.
BANG- A sound like a thousand gunshots tore through Dogboy’s ear drums. The cylinder itself exploded in a bright flash, which left behind milky smoke that hung in the air.
“Are you freaking nuts?” Dogboy shouted at the man as he jumped out from behind the newspaper dispenser. “You coulda killed me.”
“I can try again. I’ll do better this time. I promise,” Hot John said as he pulled out another stun grenade. He pulled the pin then chucked it.
Dogboy jumped out from the grenade’s path. Another BANG as he rolled into his landing. Something scraped his calve. Several pebbles embedded themselves in his flesh. A trickle of blood ran down his leg. He pushed himself up to a kneeling position. Before he could stand the sound of chains then something sharp rip across his back.
“Aoouu. Aoou.” Hot John howled, swinging a long, thin chain around his head.
Dogboy cried out in pain. The hot tears made his cheap plastic mask stick to his cheeks. He struggled to summon his powers.
Come on. Work. Fry him… I don’t care. Just work.
His eyes glowed for a moment then sputtered out. His throat was like sandpaper, drying out with each labored breath.
Hot John pulled him up by his cape then fastened the chain around his neck. He yanked on the makeshift leash, pulling Dogboy over to a light pole. Dogboy dug his fingers between the chain and his throat so it wouldn’t crush his larynx. Hot John swung the chain’s loose end over his head a few times to give it momentum then lobbed it over the vertical post holding the light out over the street. A firm tug on the chain lifted Dogboy into the air, his sneakers swinging above the asphalt.
“Bad doggy,” Hot John said. Each time Dogboy swung close he got a fist in the gut for the trouble. “You’d better not die or nothing. Osbert would be real sore.” Another punch. “He’ll get over it.”
“Hey, bright eyes,” Cindy yelled from across the street. “Let him down or I’m going to clock you myself.”
“Aw. I remember her. I think she has a crush on you, doggy,” Hot John said. “I’m teaching him some new tricks. Now get your butt out of here before I string you up with him.”
“You sure? One last chance,” Cindy said, glancing up on the roof behind them.
“You stay, doggy. Good boy.” Hot John secured the chain around a fire hydrant then charged at Cindy— ZAP. A blue bolt struck his hand. He collapsed like he’d forgotten everything he ever knew about standing. Axle stood on the rooftop, holding an electric charge in his hand.
“Try that again. I double-dog dare you,” Cindy said. “My friend up there should be warmed up after two or three more tries.”
Hot John unwound the chain from around the hydrant. Another bolt caught him in the knee, the electricity passing through his body into the chain. Dogboy’s extremities spasmed then hung limp like one of the dummies from Horum’s shop. Hot John let go of the chain. Dogboy landed, sprawled out, unconscious.
“Don’t worry, doggy. We’ll be back for you. That goes for you little freaks too.” Hot John hopped up on the carriage, driving over one of the cop’s arms as he escaped.
Cindy loosened the chain around Dogboy’s neck. His purple fingertips faded back to their normal color. Cindy pulled off his mask. He slept while wheezing through his nose. His eyes rolled around under his eyelids.
Axle whistled from the rooftop. Cindy shooed him away. Bronson opened his eyes and looked up at her.
“Hot John… is he… is he…”
“I stopped him,” Cindy said, pulling his mask back down. “I saved you, Bronson. Now relax until—”
“You’re pretty,” Dogboy said. He reached up, pulled Cindy’s baseball cap off her head, and put it over his face. “It’s dark in here.”
“Come on, superhero,” she said, taking back her hat. “Let’s get you back to the shop before more cops show up.”
Is that a tape drive? she thought as she passed a computer shop. Jennifer and her brother had assembled a full Commodore 64 rig with all the external peripherals. A working tape drive was the one thing they need to complete it. Many unfruitful trips to the thrift store later, they’d accepted they’d have to save up to buy one from a collector online.
She cupped her hands over her eyes as she pressed her face up against the window to look at the price tag.
“Why you got to run so fast for, girlie?” said a raspy voice. Jennifer dropped her hands then caught a sluggish, dirty man‘s reflection in the window. “Glad ya’ stopped though. The old feet don’t work as well as they used to. Thought I was gonna have to use my knife. One good blade to the leg’ll slow anybody down.”
“Look, I don’t know what you, like, want or whatever but I’m totally not it,” Jennifer said. The thief leaned in, shoving her back against the window.
“Don’t you try to fool old Riley now,” he said. “That was you back there that set off Hot John’s box. Don’t think I’m gonna let ya’ slip away. Mr. Osbert wouldn’t like it.”
Riley yanked her arm. Her red messenger bag slipped off her shoulder. She went to grab it out of the gutter but Riley wouldn’t let her.
“Gonna fight are you?” he said. Riley pulled a knife from his belt then pressed the flat aside against her arm. “Maybe I’ll take this off for my own protection.”
Jennifer concentrated. Her shirt transformed into the spider silk armor she’d experimented with back at the pizza shop. Riley shook his head then took a swipe at her arm with the knife. It slid off the thick fabric.
“Nice trick, girly. Come on. Hot John is waiting for us.” He pulled her two blocks with the knife against the back of her neck. He urged her to smile as they passed other people.
“Here we are,” Riley said as they stopped by a cab stand across the bridge from Liberty Pier.
“Where are we, like, going anyway?” Jennifer asked.
“The place where dreams come true,” Riley said. “Telling ya’ any more than that would spoil the surprise.”
“Pretty sure the whole, like, kidnapping thing already did that,” she said.
Hot John pulled the black carriage up to the curb. He jumped down and scanned Jennifer with Osbert’s device. The light flashed green.
“At least we got one brat,” he said. “You mind driving, Riley? I’m feeling a little punch drunk.”
Riley nodded then climbed up to the driver’s bench. Hot John pulled Jennifer behind the carriage then opened the door, gesturing for her to climb in.
“What happens if I like, don’t want to come with you or whatever?” she asked.
“I’m… uh… pretty mad right now. You’d probably better do what I say.”
“Fat chance,” she said, yanking her arm away from him then running in the other direction. She made it a few feet before his arms caught her in a bear hug. He carried her over then tossed her in the back of the carriage, slamming the door behind her.
She leaned her head against the wall as the carriage rolled away. She smiled to herself, happy that her friends weren’t there with her, with hope that they’d find a way to save her from whatever hellish destination she ended up at.
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