Wes hated that Clancy had betrayed him. He didn’t know what to do about it. He put

the thought away while he tried to map out a successful exposure of Delveccio’s

criminal empire.

He decided that he needed to talk to someone for advice. He couldn’t trust anybody

at the paper. They might all be in it with Clancy. Who could he call?

He wondered if he could get ahold of either of the Rockets. If he could, maybe they

would have some good advice. Maybe they had some way he could wear something

while he was transformed into a flying carpet.

That would be just as good as the advice if it worked.

He was tired of running around naked while people shot at him. He wasn’t Ray

Stevens’s Streak.

Wes used his power to break into the library. It was amazing how easy that was when

you were flat as a pancake and could stretch down some small holes to the other side

of a vent, or pipe. He kept low to the floor until he found the microfiche reader in an

office at the back of the library. He stepped inside and closed the door.

He set the machine up. He frowned at the lack of microfilm in the office for him to

go through. He wondered where the material could be.

He decided to use his power when it recharged to break into the office area of the

place. Maybe there was something there waiting for someone like him to find it.

He throttled down the excitement of trying to find out something amazing from his

face. He was just doing this as part of his job, and if he could get a story out of it, that

would be the cherry on top.

He still had to worry about any possible alarms he might trip wandering around the

place.

If only Mister Robot was still around. He had been based in California, and had a

public persona to call. He would have been perfect for passing on the stolen ledgers

to the authorities, and getting Wes out of the jam he was in.

He frowned. He needed to think his own way out of his problem, and hope that he

didn’t get killed trying to get out from under. He knew he couldn’t trust anyone in

town, so he needed to get in touch with some kind of lawman outside of town that

would help clean things up. Finding the Rocket and hoping he had a contact was a

little farfetched now that he thought of it.

He didn’t trust anyone at the paper. Any one of them could send him right back to

Delveccio with no problem. He needed help from outside the city.

There was a television guy he could call for a recommendation. And he lived in San

Diego. Was that far enough away to escape the net?

He had to try. His contact list was back at the paper. Did he want to break in there and

steal it back? Did he want to try public access first?

He decided to call information and ask for the station number. Maybe someone there

would pass a note to his contact, and he could get the ledgers in front of a camera and

beamed over Southern California in a way that would turn attention on Delveccio

from outside sources.

Running for the rest of his life on top of hiding his new power didn’t seem the best

way to keep his secret from the public. And he didn’t want to expose himself to

scrutiny. Ever since the Mark killed the members of his rogues gallery, the public

wasn’t as trusting of people who wore a mask.

He knew enough from the court proceedings to know that he would have probably

done the same thing if he was placed in the same position.

Wes decided he could use the public phone in the Librarian’s office. It was out of

sight, and he could use the door to block the alarm. No one knew where he was, and

as long as he didn’t attract attention, he could stay in the place until the staff came in

the next morning.

He was horrible as a superhuman. He had a power that allowed him to break into

places and fly, but so what? He was on the run and unable to go home because he had

stolen a mobster’s records. He was convinced someone at the paper was telling the

mobster where he was. And he had no idea how to get out of the mess he had made

of all that.

His one idea was to call for help and he wasn’t sure how he could do that.

He decided to break into the Librarian’s office and get started. He wasn’t getting

anything done just sitting in this room with a reader that needed things to be read.

Wes activated his power and flattened out. He pushed open the door to the reader

room just enough to slip through. He dragged his clothes across the floor to the door

he wanted to enter. He reached through a crack in the bottom to unlock it and turn the

knob so he could slip inside. He closed the door gently and went to the desk set up

for office work for the staff.

He checked around until he found a phone book. He shook his head. The number he

wanted to call was out of town, and out of the phone book. He doubted that the local

affiliate would be able to point him in the right direction.

And would calling the station put his life in danger just by letting Delveccio know he

was still in town?

And it would point at the guy he wanted to call for help if that got leaked also.

He sat in the chair provided with the desk after his power wore off and he got dressed.

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He thought about what he knew about the broadcaster. He tried to remember the

station where the guy worked. Then all he had to do would be to call an operator and

ask for the number.

He picked up the phone. He doubted anyone would be looking for him to call for an

out of town number from a public facility so they could check the number.

He dialed for an operator and waited. He gave the station as the target of his request.

A few minutes later, he noted the number down on a pad on the desk. He thanked the

operator before he hung up.

He made the second long distance call right away. He needed to try to get this help

so he could get clear of this mess. He had taken his pursuit too far. He should have

known that Delveccio wouldn’t let things go when he did it.

“KSAN,” said a bored voice that handled a million calls a day. “How can I help you?”

“I would like to talk to Brad Corning,” said Wes. “I’m working on a story around

Idaville, and I need some help.”

“Mister Corning isn’t in the station at this time,” said the receptionist. “Would you

like to leave a message?”

“Tell him that Wes Wesolowski called, and I have some things that I need looked at

by someone else before I file my story,” said Wes. “I’m willing to share credit for the

story. I’ll try to call back in a few hours.”

“This is about a story?,” asked the receptionist.

“I work for a paper up here, and I met Brad at a convention,” said Wes. “I don’t know

if he remembers me. I have some things to get done, so I’ll have to call back when I

can.”

“I made a note, Mister Wesolowski,” said the receptionist. “Mister Corning usually

comes back to the station before the night broadcast to go over things he needs to

work on for the next day.”

“Thank you,” said Wes. “I’ll call back then.”

Wes hung up the phone. He sat back in the chair. He had to do something about

having to get dressed every time his change wore off. If he could shake his pursuers

off his trail, he could turn his attention about trying to find a suit he could wear.

He hoped he could get Corning to help him with Delveccio. If that happened, the rest

could be managed.

He tore off the note with Corning’s work number and put it in his pocket. He didn’t

want to wait on his fellow reporter, but he had no idea on how to hurry things along.

He doubted he could fly down to San Diego.

He examined that thought, and wondered if he could fly down to San Diego. He

would have to fly through San Fran, L.A., and smaller cities to get there. Did he want

to try to do anything like that?

He could fly down to that city and talk to Corning. He didn’t know how fast he was

in the air, but he could fly as far as his power could carry him, and walk until he

charged up to make another long jump. He could reach a train station and ride down

if he could get out of the city.

The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it. His flight power gave him

enough mobility to get beyond Delveccio’s grip, and reach some kind of public

transportation to get where he needed to be.

And he could stow away on the train until he had to get off at the right stop.

His stomach rumbled as he thought about how he wanted to proceed.

“The first thing I have to do is get something to eat,” said Wes. “Then I can worry

about getting out of town. The mob will have the train station and airport covered.

I don’t want to have to use my power in front of a crowd.”

He thought of the exact steps he would have to take to carry out his plan. He thought

he might be able to do it all without a problem. He had the cover of the night to

help him until the sun came up.

He changed form and slipped out of the library. He found a place to get dressed and

found an all night diner. He went and ordered as much food as he could buy. He ate

his fill, astounding the cooks and the small amount of customers sharing the space

with him.

He left the diner, made sure he had the proof he needed, and changed form. He lifted

into the air and headed south. He called for as much speed as he could. He thought

he was going as fast as a car, but it was hard for him to be sure in the dark. He should

have checked for the tracks heading south out of town before he got started, but

decided that it was better to just move than get hung up and become a sitting duck for

anyone who wanted to turn him in to the big boss.

He landed when his power started to fail. He dressed and hurried down the road. He

kept away from lights as much as possible. He didn’t want anyone to stop to take a

look at him while he was moving.

He wondered how far he had come from the diner. He looked back toward town.

The lights were small dots in the distance.

If he could keep making these huge jumps, he might be able to reach the area where

he could get a ride without having to worry about being identified.

He might be able to fly down to San Diego under his own power if his power held

up. He felt his body burning inside. The more he flew, the more he would have

to eat. He instinctively knew this.

He wondered how much he was hurting himself every time he used his power.

He needed to check for doctors who worked on superhumans when he was done

fixing this problem.

He walked until he felt charged up, then flew as far as he could in the time allowed,

landed and started walking again. He saw a sign for a town he recognized and

realized he had flown almost to San Francisco in a couple of hours. He could make

it to Los Angeles to catch the train south in a couple more hours if he couldn’t catch

one in the oceanside city.

He realized that he could follow the one oh one all the way down to Los Angeles

from San Francisco if he could get directions at the next place with someone who

knew where they were.

The rest of his trip would be pretty easy after that.

He could fly down to Los Angeles, and then board a train from Union Station,

and arrive in San Diego in the early morning hours, or after the sun came up. All

he would have to do was keep his head down and be alert for anyone who might

want to find him before he wanted to be found.

He needed to find a payphone to let Corning that he was on the way down, or at least

was thinking about coming down. He doubted the television reporter wanted him

showing up on his doorstep, but he had to keep going now that he was committed.

At least he was out of town, and away from the manhunt trying to bring him in.

He wished he knew what Delveccio was doing to stop him. It would make planning

his next steps easier to do.

Wes found a payphone on the outside wall of a closed gas station. He kept an eye on

his surroundings while he called the television station again. Hopefully Corning

would talk to him over the phone.

“KSAN,” said the receptionist he had talked to earlier. “How can I help you?”

“This is Wes Wesolowski again,” said Wes. “I thought I would try to catch Mister

Corning again before he went home.”

“He left a message for you,” said the receptionist. “He said for you to call him on his

office line tomorrow afternoon at two. It’s the station’s phone number with extension

five thirty six.”

“All right,” said Wes. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Mister Corning said you helped him out when he was up north, and he remembers

you,” said the receptionist. “He doesn’t always return calls like this.”

“Thanks again,” said Wes. “Have a good night.”

Wes hung up the phone. He checked his watch. He had sixteen hours to get to San

Diego so he could talk to Corning in person. How far could he get with his power?

He didn’t have to close the whole distance, but he wanted to be close so he could

meet Corning face to face.

He took to the air and soared south to Los Angeles.