how to keep that mad doctor from finding Superkid.”
“You mean Aaron?” Derrick asked innocently.
Darrin demanded, “Are you being stupid on purpose?”
Derrick gave him an offended look. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“You’d be a lot more helpful if you weren’t so helpful.”
Derrick shot him a dirty look. Then he said, “Well, we don’t want Superkid to get shot, zapped, or blown up… nor us, for that matter.”
“Exactly.” Darrin nodded. “Is there any way that doctor could find him?”
The short and quite terrifying answer to that was a definite yes. The reporters had printed more than a few intimate details about Superkid. But even if the doctor was illiterate or allergic to newsprint, there were still gossips and their cousins across the valley. Just by talking to anyone within 100 miles of Poolington, he’d be able to triangulate the pint-sized hero’s exact location… give or take an address.
“He’s doomed,” Derrick finally said.
Darrin said solemnly, “We’ve got to warn him.”
“Where’s Superkid?” Dr. Red demanded. He had his bigger gun pointed at the editor-in-chief of the Piner City Tribune.
“Who?” the guy asked, breaking out in cold sweat.
“Superkid!”
“Oh, him!” The man tried a smile and a chuckle but ended up giving a grimace and a squeak. “I don’t know—but I’m sure my staff could tell you!” he finished quickly as the evil Doctor Red tightened his grip on the trigger.
Just then, a reporter walked in. The evil doctor whipped his other gun at her.
“Where’s Superkid?” Red demanded.
She eyed him and his odd gun with calm disdain. “You mean that kid who beat up that giant spider?”
“Yes, that one.”
“Hmm, if I remember correctly…” She glanced at the ceiling in thought. “I heard the staff saying he lives in Poolington.”
“Poolington?”
“Yes.”
“Poolington…” murmured the evil doctor thoughtfully. He finally concluded, “Weird name. Where’s that?”
“If you’ll just follow me, I can show you a map.” She turned and calmly walked out the door as though she didn’t have a strange gun pointed at the back of her head. Normally, such disdain would infuriate him into showing her just how disdainful of him she should be. But she was cooperating, so he begrudgingly let her appendages remain attached. To compensate for his irritation, he turned his larger gun at the phone next to the editor-in-chief and fired. Then he walked quickly out the door before the phone turned purple, fragmented, and then launched itself at the wall next to the door.
Dr. Red followed the reporter to her desk where she rummaged through the drawers until she pulled out a large but thin book. She slipped through the pages, muttering, “World atlas… United States… Alabama, Alaska, Hawaii, mhm, mhm…”
Finally, she stopped flipping through the book and with her eyes scanned the page until she planted a long, tapered finger in its middle and announced, “Poolington right there.”
“Right,” he said. “And how do I get there?”
“Sothton is right here…” she moved her finger down the page, “which means you need to travel northwest to get there.” She traced the line connecting the two towns.
Dr. Red smiled. “Thank you. You were most helpful.” He patted her on the arm. She placed her hand on his and gave it a squeeze. He gave her a raised eyebrow but then gave her a nod and pulled his hand out from hers. After giving her a charming wink, he walked off, whistling a jaunty tune.
She watched him leave with a rather strange smile. It didn’t appear to be a smile of relief. It was more of a… menacing smile--which probably has now alerted your suspicions.
Before we can ponder about that menacing smile of hers, the editor-in-chief peeked out of his office and whispered, “Is he gone?”
“He’s just leaving,” the reporter answered, still watching the evil doctor.
“Did you call the police?”
“They wouldn’t catch him.”
“Wha-what do you mean?”
“The last few who tried had their guns torn to shreds.”
The editor-in-chief gaped in horror. He gulped and shook his head. “How do you know this?”
She turned to him and, for a moment, he thought he saw her eyes flash red.
“I just do.” She grinned, sporting a wicked-looking set of teeth.
Somehow, Darrin had mustered up enough courage to knock on Mrs. Purn’s door. Even more incredible, he managed to tell her when she opened the door and looked to be in one of her more unpleasant moods, “We have something important to tell you and uh—Aaron.”
“Such as?” Mrs. Purn blocked the door imposingly and glared down at him. Derrick, who had found Darrin’s shadow an excellent place to hide, shrank even further.
“Such as some evil doctor is going to kill Aaron,” Darrin answered.
Her left eyebrow rose. “And how do you know this?”
“The newspaper,” Derrick spoke up, still keeping within Darrin’s shadow. “It said he blew up some cops’ guns looking for him.”
“You’re sure that’s what it said?” Mrs. Purn asked, zeroing in on Derrick like a heat-seeking missile.
“I think!” Derrick squeaked.
“This doctor… thinks he’s some sort of supervillain? And he’s coming after my son?” Without waiting for a reply, she growled, “I knew no good would come of that spider incident!”
“So what are you going to do?” Darrin asked.
She shifted her weight and pursed her lips in thought. Finally, she smacked her lips and replied, “We’ll just not tell that so-called evil doctor that he’s here. Don’t let Aaron become… him.”
“He’s going to destroy this town looking for him!” Derrick cried, jumping out of the relative safety of Darrin’s shadow. “He’ll be calling his name!”
Mrs. Purn’s eyes widened in panic. But then she brightened, “We’ll go on vacation!”
Darrin and Derrick both gaped at her. “WHAT?” Darrin cried. “Run away and leave us at the mercy of an evil doctor?”
“It’s not as if I asked him to come!” she snapped. “I’m just doing the smart thing and leaving before he finds us! You can do the same thing!”
“But we can’t just leave!” Darrin protested. “He’ll just keep hunting you until he finds you and…” He shuddered.
Mrs. Purn frowned at him. “What do you suggest then?”
The answer was pretty obvious but worth saying out loud. To really drive it home though, Darrin paused dramatically before he took a deep breath and said, “I think Superkid will have to fight him.”
As for “him,” Dr. Red was already on his way to engage in an epic battle with our diminutive hero, driving in an automobile that appeared to be missing half its parts. Not the trendiest brand choice, but what can you do? He built it. It did have its good points: 60 miles to the gallon, quality radio just about anywhere, and low maintenance. Heck, if this whole mad scientist gig didn’t pan out, he could likely get a job at General Motors. This rattletrap was doing a heck of a job getting him to the site where he would do battle with the mysterious Superkid.
Not doing so great at its job was the crude map he had drawn. So far it had gotten him lost down old, abandoned roads; inside dark, creepy woods; and up steep, craggy cliffs before he finally realized he was holding it upside down. He had to backtrack all the way to the interstate that would take him to Poolington.
“At least, I hope this will take me to Poolington!” he grumbled, giving the wheel an irritable jerk. “And that Superkid better be there! I’m going through a lot of trouble to find this creep!”
He glanced over at his odd weapons lying in the passenger seat and smiled. He patted them and muttered ominously, “But if he’s there, I’m sure it will all be worth it.”
The town raced frantically to leave town before the evil doctor’s arrival. They
weren’t quite sure when that would be, but being the day after his first attack, they weren’t taking any chances.
But while everyone was packing their possessions into their vehicles, there was one batty, old lady who was spending her time on other things… more important things.
This batty lady was named Mrs. Terrell. She was sitting at her sewing desk working on a lion costume… that’s right, a lion costume. You know, the kind you’d wear on Halloween or on a “Wizard of Oz” musical. What exactly she was doing with this lion costume, we’ll soon find out.
Mrs. Purn suddenly dashed into the room, panting. “Everybody ready?”
“Just about,” Mrs. Terrell replied cheerfully, tying off a stitch.
Mrs. Purn glanced around the room. She cried in dismay, “You’re supposed to have your stuff packed!” seeing Mrs. Terrell’s things still in their places.
“I decided to make Superkid a costume,” she explained, holding up the lion outfit. I did mention that she’s batty, right?
Mrs. Purn frowned. “Aaron won’t need it, Mrs. Terrell.”
“But all superheroes need a costume!”
“Aaron is not a superhero! And he’ll never be if I can help it.”
Mrs. Terrell warned her, shaking her finger the way old ladies do it best, “You’re restricting your child’s potential.”
“My child’s potential? He almost got himself killed by that giant spider!”
“I’m sure all superheroes need a little practice in the beginning.”
“A little practice?” Mrs. Purn sputtered in disbelief. “If it hadn’t been for dumb luck, he wouldn’t have even survived!”
This was getting to be dangerously close to spelling