Little sum-bickle.
He was probably the one who made me think of those days. Back when the Snowman was the archenemy in the comic books of the American Airman, the Champion, The One, and one or two other of those weirdos. But I can’t deny it; those were the days! I never played sports much, but you’d have a hard time getting me to believe that any football player was as exhilarated when he threw a ball as much as I was when we were finishing a job and got away scott free. Or worse, when the capes showed up just as we were finishing, and we had to duke our way to the getaway car we’d stolen that morning. I remember the time that The One showed up, all green-and-yellow tights and underwear, glaring at me through his eyemask. I was so scared when I saw he’d flown in and his muscles were bulging like my uncle’s belly after a Thanksgiving dinner, I pointed the Winterbeam right at his head and pulled the trigger.
I got scared as soon as I pulled it. More scared when I felt the juice gurgle and surge through the tubes in the pistol. When the white gas was gone and I saw One standing there, his skin all blue and icicles dripping from his mouth and his nose and his eyes, I got terrified.
Oh, shit! I thought. No other words, just fear. I just knew that starting this second, every comic book was gonna peg me as public enemy number one. Every single cape, from the noble hero-type like the Airman or the Champion to psychos like the Hanging Judge, they all was gonna be gunning for me. Hell, probably every comic-book reading nerd who could pick up a pistol or a knife and put on a dime store mask’d be looking for me too! Every one of them trying to avenge the death of their favorite hero, and maybe get their own comic-book line in the process.
I was about ready to fall down and throw up from fear when Jane grabbed my arm. “C’mon!” she shouted, “Move!” I was still a little dumbfounded, and she gave me a good smack, right in the kisser. Dang, but that made me snapout’ve it!
I moved. Staggered, really. Trying to look back and hope that I hadn’t killed The One, but all I could see was the ice statue with a surprised look on its face.
Next thing I knew we were bundled into the getaway car and barreling through the streets of the city, sirens blaring behind us like we were in one of those Keystone Cops movies they showed in school when I was a kid.
Well, Russ packed hisself in somehow, even with the wings of his. Bee drove and we made it. God only knows how she could see through those stupid thick black-plastic sunglasses of hers. Monty in the shotgun seat glaring at everyone and everything with that mechanical eye of his. Those eye things- he had a half-dozen of ‘em, I think. They were good in a fight or for cutting through steel, or staring at Bee and seeing through her clothes [well, whuddyawant? I was seventeen, remember. And truth be told, I think she knew and she didn’t give a damn. Maybe even liked it]. Cops then weren’t the consistent, high-trained fellas you see today on TV. Back then half of them were criminals themselves, given a chance to reform and then plunked onto the streets to go catch their old buddies. So, losing them in a chase wasn’t the problem it would be today.
Aw, well, see me gettin’ ahead of myself. The money ended up being real good- best we’d ever done. Once Russ got out of his suit, he convinced everybody to give me extra beyond my share for the way I’d zapped The One out of the way. Said that our star was gonna rise higher than any super-villain group, maybe get our own comic, or something like that.
Me? I was still shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, all scared-like. Good news was the money was darned good. I sent almost the whole wad home to Mom, and she paid off most of the mortgage with it over the next two years. Nope, she didn’t ask . . . I told her I had a part-time job selling Amway door-to-door, and I’d made a killing in my last sale. She bought it, or at least didn’t ask any questions. Dang it, if I could get a pile like that today, I’d . . .
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Jake was smiling at me, his teeth looking like a happy jack-o-lantern.
“Jake, you messin’ with my head again? Like when you got Queen Bee to do that striptease to distract the prison guards while we broke Monty outta prison?”
“Mitch! My dear old friend! You cut me to the quick! Nope, I’d never, never, hardly ever do something like that, no matter how much you needed the money to help your oldest daughter get her divorce from that atheist she married, or help your granddaughter through that lovely Christian college she can’t afford, or maybe pay off your house so you and you wife could have some real savings for a change.”
For a second, it all seemed so clear. Money- enough that I wouldn’t have to worry. Family taken care of, wife not complaining, no worries about my daughter going off with the wrong man again, or my granddaughter getting in with the wrong crowd like one of my grandsons did . . .
“What’s the risk. What’s the reward?”
“What would you need, Mitch?”
Ballpark? What did the supervillains all ask for in the movies when I was a kid?
“Jake, I’m gettin’ old. I’d hafta have one million dollars on the table.” Jake looked at me for a second. He was wondering if I was serious. “Is that all?” he said. “Jake, you make me sad, my friend. I thought you were more ambitious than that.”
“Half up front.”
“Now, waitaminute, partner . . .”
“No, Jake, you wait a minute. I can tell- you’ve been playin’ three-card-monty with my head, and you wouldn’t do it if this was gonna be a cakewalk. If we’re lookin’ at that big a payday, I’m lookin’ at serious jail time if things so South. I need to know my people are gonna be taken care of.”
Jake paused and looked at me again.
“Okay. You wanna know they’ll be okay if you get caught. I get that, Mitch. I respect that. My family don’ give two shits if I’m walkin’ free or if I’m in the slammer for life. So here’s what I’ll do, Mitch. You got a phone?”
“Right on my desk. Why?”
“You got an account at a video store?”
“Don’t everybody?”
“Hollywood or Blockbuster?”
“Hollywood. Why?”
“Tell me which store your membership’s at. I’ll have your credit card number in my wallet in five minutes. Time me. If I can get your credit card in five minutes, I can get whatever money you need for whoever you need, whenever they need it, nuh?”
I’m not liking where this is going. But sometimes you’ve gotta slow down and see the accident on the side of the highway. Even if the accident may turn out to involve one of your own.
“And to sweeten the deal, Mitch: if we pull this off, you’ll get way more than a million bucks.”
Jake always did like the dramatic side o’things. He rolled a little cylinder towards me. I caught it, and it had little tiny blue crystals inside. “What in Sam Hill is this stuff supposed to b-”
I hadda stop.
Jake was standing up.
I hadn’t seen him stand since the job in- too long ago to remember, now.
“What the hell, Jake! Since when can you-”
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