A Mind Not Worth Controlling (A Captain Rescue Short Story)

  A Mind Not Worth Controlling

  A Captain Rescue short story

  by Joshua Price

  Published by Joshua Price at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2011 by Joshua Price

  The Westside Funeral Home specialized in everything to make the passing of a loved one quick, painless, and—most of all—damned expensive. Since most families paid for the costly nature of funerals with credit or giant lumps of life insurance, the Westside Funeral Home rarely had enough cold hard cash on hand to make robbing the place worthwhile—and robbery was just what people did in this city. For some reason, towns patrolled by heroes like Captain Rescue had crime rates tripling that of average cities. Despite being surrounded by death, funeral homes were relatively safe places to work. That’s why Bridget got a job here. She was only a teenager, but after having a gun shoved in her face more times than she could count, the girl jumped at the opportunity to work at a place this boring; but life, it seemed, was just plain mean.

  “Hand over the money, and I won’t put a bullet in ya!” one of the masked robbers yelled to Bridget while he and his friend pointed their guns at her.

  After being in situations like this so many times, Bridget wasn’t scared. She was just annoyed. “This is a funeral home. We haven’t had someone pay for a casket with cash in months, everything’s electronic. So, unless you and your friend would like to help yourself to one of our very heavy caskets, I recommend you get lost before the cops show up, or worse… Captain Rescue.”

  The two robbers looked at each other and laughed.

  “We’re not afraid of that two-bit hero,” the lead one said to Bridget. “Now, I’m not gonna ask you again, kid, give us the money or we will kill you.”

  She growled and smacked the cash register in front of her. It popped open, and Bridget spun it around, showing the would-be robbers the seven dollars in cash and cobwebs contained within. “Take it. It’s yours! Enjoy your fast food dinner.”

  The leader grabbed the cash and pocketed it before turning to his buddy. “This is the last time I come to you for suggestions on places to rob.”

  He threw his arms up. “When momma died we had to spend almost six grand on her funeral, and we paid it in cash!”

  Bridget laughed hard. “You paid in cash because you probably haven’t had an honest job in decades.”

  He pointed his gun at her forehead. “Don’t you talk about momma like that! I’ll shoot you myself, girl!”

  The lead robber fired his gun into the ceiling. “She’s right. When’s the last time you even had a bank account.”

  With his finger resting gently upon the trigger, the crook of subpar intelligence scratched his head with the barrel of his gun. “Summer of ’97, I reckon.”

  His buddy gently pulled the gun away from his head and then said, “Exactly. She wasn’t trying to insult your momma. She was just saying that in our line of work, we don’t have much use for bank accounts or credit cards like normal people do.” He turned back to Bridget, who had begun to wonder if these guys were still trying to rob her, or if they had moved on to the friendship portion of the crime. “Well, I guess we ought to get out of here, and find somewhere—”

  The head burglar found himself interrupted by the jingle of bells as someone entered the funeral home. He pulled the gun’s barrel to his lips, instructing Bridget to keep quiet, and then motioned for his partner to go check it out. The second robber nodded and marched out of the room with his small gun at the ready. As his footsteps faded, the head burglar looked at Bridget and stared her down. After a matter of seconds, a scuffle began, yells ensued, and he pointed the gun at her. The two stared at each other for a minute or so as they waited for the commotion to settle. Bridget kept her cool and returned the robber’s intimidating stare with one of her own. He’d never admit aloud, but he liked this kid’s spunk, and he would have hated to put a bullet in her.

  The head robber turned his attention away from Bridget just as footsteps approached from behind. He grumbled as his partner waddled his way into the room, led by someone who had presumably disarmed him and now had the gun sticking into this back. His friend’s body might have mostly obstructed this mystery person, but there was no mistaking the distinct black cape he wore, or the dark purple suit covering his body. Captain Rescue had arrived.

  The hero smacked the back of the crook’s head, and with a loud crack, the robber’s friend crumpled to the ground.

  He pointed the gun at the other criminal. “Am I going to have to shoot you?”

  “What are you doing?” the robber asked. “Since when do you use guns?”

  “I guess so,” Captain Rescue said as he pulled the trigger. With a bright flash and a loud bang, a red wound appeared in the robber’s leg, and he fell to the ground screaming in pain.

  “You’re not supposed to shoot people!” the criminal cried out. “You’re the good guy! I’m supposed to shoot you.”

  Captain Rescue gave a hearty laugh. He pointed the gun at Bridget. “Did you do anything wrong, am I going to have to shoot you too?”

  She tried not to laugh. “No, I’m innocent. I work here.”

  The robber gripped his leg in an attempt to keep the blood from painting the ground red. He took off his denim jacket and wrapped it around the wound. “You shot me! You really shot me,” he cried out.

  “You going to keep quiet, or am I going to have to put another hole in you.” Captain Rescue fired at the floor just above the crook’s shoulder. He quieted down and put more pressure on his leg wound. “That’s what I thought,” the hero said. He turned to Bridget. “Well… let’s get going.”

  She coughed. “Lets?” While she had never met or seen this man in real life, she knew that he was acting quite peculiar and that following him was probably a bad idea.

  He dropped the gun to the ground. “Uh… yeah. I can’t just leave you here.”

  She looked at the robber. “I mean, aside from the fact there’s a man bleeding to death on the ground, I do work here.”

  “That wasn’t really a request,” he said to the girl. “Let’s skedaddle, kiddo, before the cops show up.”

  Bridget took a deep breath and stepped out from behind her counter. The hero gave her a boyish smile and they headed out of the funeral home together. She shrugged and followed him, weaving around the unconscious criminals on the way out.

  During the ominous journey out of the funeral home, she turned to the hero and tried to lighten the mood. “You seem to have lost a bit of weight since I last saw you on TV, Captain Rescue.”

  “Yeah!” He smacked his fist against his chest. “Ain’t nobody gonna get an upper hand on me today. I will break faces!”

  She laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, you will!” Bridget didn’t exactly remember seeing him act this aggressive before. He seemed markedly angrier than usual.

  They exited through the funeral home’s strangely knocked down door, and she saw Captain Rescue’s Rescue Machine. The hero had driven it right up to the door, and the tires had left a trail of dirt gouges through the grass. The tiny two-door vehicle had both of its doors ajar—even though he only used one of them to get out.

  “So, what’s your name, kid?” he asked.

  “Bridget,” she replied while keeping her distance from the foreboding vehicle. This certainly wasn’t the hero she had heard so many heroic stories of. Something was definitely off, and she would have to keep her eye on him.

  He motioned to the passenger side door and then gave her a wicked smile. “Let’s go fight some crime.”

  Bridget gulped and climbed into the vehicle.

&n
bsp; ***

  “Aren’t you going a little fast?” Bridget yelled with her head bumping against the roof of The Rescue Machine.

  A hunched over Captain Rescue looked away from the road and stared at her. “I don’t think so. What’s the speed limit?”

  “That’s not the point!” she yelled as a road sign went flying into the air. She looked over her shoulder and through the back window as it tumbled magnificently through the air before finally coming back down and smacking headfirst into the ground. The impact knocked the round sign from its post, and it bounced back into the air. “What is wrong with you?!”

  “Crime! Crime’s gotta pay!”

  Bridget’s eyes went wide. “The road sign didn’t do anything wrong!”

  As they sped down a busy city street and towards an impending intersection, the teenage girl closed her eyes and hoped for the best. Had he gone insane? Or was something more sinister at play here. Captain Rescue was actually suspiciously villainous.

  He laughed another maniacal laugh, giving more credence to her villain suspicions. “It’s a good thing I souped this baby up! Did you know that I used to patrol these streets at like twenty-something miles-per-hour?”

  Bridget unleashed a nervous, fearful, tear-filled laugh and then opened her eyes once more. She could plainly see the hero staring at her instead of the road. Against her better judgment, her vision swiveled forward.

  “Watch out!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  With a surprised look across his face, Captain Rescue glanced forward to see the elderly woman with a walker crossing the street. He looked back at Bridget, smiled, and then gunned his tiny vehicle.

  The young girl ducked underneath the dashboard. “What are you doing!?”

  “Giving this lovely senior citizen a taste of my heroism!” he yelled.

  The inertia caused by The Rescue Machine as it weaved around the woman pulled the walker clean out of her hands and left it bouncing across the asphalt. The old lady somehow regained her balance without it and hobbled after the walker. Captain Rescue glanced over his shoulder and laughed boyishly as she picked it up off the road and made obscene gestures at him. The hero looked forward and resumed his joyride as pedestrians stopped to help the old lady.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Bridget asked.

  Captain Rescue slammed his foot against the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. “Whatever do you mean?”

  The girl pushed herself away from the dashboard. “You just seem to be acting a little peculiar.”

  He looked just a tad offended by her observation. “I am a hero! And this is what heroes do!” he snapped at her. “Now let’s find some bad guys, so I can kick their butts!”

  As if summoned for just that purpose, a police cruiser whizzed by with its lights flashing and its siren wailing. Before Bridget could discover whether Captain Rescue left the door unlocked so she could make a quick escape, the car leapt forward in pursuit. Bridget kept her eyes fixated on the road before them, but as The Rescue Machine wove around two vehicles and exchanged paint with one of them, she yelped and burned her head beneath the dashboard once more. She was beginning to fear that this hero was going to get the both of them killed.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Bridget asked. “I know we don’t know each other too well, but this all seems very out of character for you.”

  Captain Rescue took his eyes off the road and glanced at his young companion as his trusty steed bumped and scraped against other vehicles. “What do you mean?”

  She tensed up and winced as she felt the car slam into another vehicle. “I just mean, you’re acting pretty reckless. You seemed… more heroic all of those times I saw you on TV.”

  Captain Rescue shrugged off her observation and went back to following the police car.

  This vehicular rampage only caused Bridget’s suspicions to grow. She knew that a hero’s mind was a vulnerable thing, and if any villain, Dr. Malevolent or otherwise, had gotten ahold of Captain Rescue’s, then there was no telling what damage was done. She would have to play this very carefully. If the hero was mind-controlled and became aware of it, his brain might very well explode. Bridget would have to find some way to break the strange spell that had overcome Captain Rescue, so he could return to his normal heroic self. The young companion kept quiet and peaked over the dashboard. The Rescue Machine was following haphazardly behind the police cruiser, which was in a rush to get somewhere. It was fortunate that civilians all around pulled over to let the cop car pass, and subsequently Captain Rescue’s tiny vehicle, or his reckless driving would have probably gotten them both killed by now.

  Bridget kept her head down and listened to the sounds of tires against asphalt and Captain Rescue’s out-of-tune singing. When The Rescue Machine finally skidded to a stop, the young companion looked up and saw that they had arrived at their destination: a nondescript office building surrounded by cruisers and SWAT vans. Police officers and their vehicles encircled the entrance while others covered the exits on foot. The hero drove his vehicle over a curb, scraping the underside against the concrete, and practically smashed it headfirst into a nearby cruiser. He slammed on the brakes and the car jerked forward as it stopped.

  “It’s show time!” Captain Rescue said to his new friend before swinging open the door and climbing out of The Rescue Machine.

  Bridget gulped nervously, opened her door, and stepped onto the ground as police approached Captain Rescue eagerly from practically every direction. She had seen interviews with the hero on TV before, so she had an idea how he normally conducted himself: with a sort of goofy heroism.

  “Where are the bad guys?!” Captain Rescue bellowed. “I will kill them!”

  Bridget coughed; certainly nothing like that.

  The spellbound hero ran up to the nearest group of police offers. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve got a hostage situation in there. Some armed men stormed the place, took everyone hostage, and haven’t said a word.”

  Captain Rescue chuckled. “Then I will have to sneak in there and kill everyone that stands in my way!”

  One of the police officers gave him an odd stare. “We’d actually prefer it if you took them alive, so we can ask them questions and serve them justice.”

  “Oh, I will be serving them, alright!” Captain Rescue chuckled, “but if you insist, then I will have to sneak in there and maim everyone that stands in my way!”

  The same police officer cringed. “I guess that’s an improvement.”

  The curiously angry hero turned his attention to the office building. “So, are we done here?”

  “Well,” the cop said, “don’t you want to know about the hostages?”

  Captain Rescue fluffed him off. “Hostages? They’re not my concern. I’ve got bad guys to ki—maim!”

  “Well, try not to accidentally maim any the hostages by accident, and be careful.” The police officer leaned in towards Bridget and whispered, “Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered back.

  Before they could discuss Captain Rescue’s mental state further, he grabbed Bridget by the wrist and began dragging her towards the besieged office building. With his new friend in tow, he marched towards the office building, but when he got the door and could see the very angry and very armed men inside, he turned back to the young girl. “You know what,” he said to her, “we should probably go around to the side and sneak in. That way they don’t know we’re coming!”

  She looked quite worried. “Wouldn’t it be safer if I stayed out here?”

  “Poppycock!” the hero exclaimed, “I’m going to keep you safe and sound. You’re my number one fan, after all.”

  Bridget wasn’t exactly sure where that came from, but she was moderately frightened to refute it. Before she could contemplate her position on his list of fans, he grabbed her by the wrist once more, and they went around the side of the building. When the construction workers laid its foundation, they left a small hill behind and b
uilt the office building directly into it, leaving the windows sitting at ankle level. Seemingly at random, Captain Rescue stopped in front a one of them and knelt beside it.

  He pressed the tips of his leather-clad fingers against the glass and simply tried to push the window upwards, but as it turned out, someone had locked it securely from the inside, forcing Captain Rescue to abandon his plans for a stealthy infiltration. The hero turned to his backup plan: brute force. He shoved his elbow against the window, hoping that it would shatter effortlessly like in the movies, but the impact caused nothing but pain. Almost out of ideas, he grabbed a nearby rock and started beating against the glass. After a few good whacks, the window finally cracked and Captain Rescue was able to smash it open. The fragmented shards spilled onto the floor below, and after brushing away any leftovers, the hero climbed through without scathing his supple skin. With a crunch of glass, he hit the ground moderately gracefully and then helped Bridged down. The girl couldn’t help but think that following him in here was probably a bad idea.

  After Captain Rescue finished helping the girl to her feet, he swung around and faced the conference room before them. In the center and surrounded by toppled chairs, a large rectangular table had snapped in two and collapsed inwards. The random office supplies and mugs had flowed to the center and piled together, creating a disgusting mush of paper and coffee. Captain Rescue tiptoed around the table and headed for the double doors leading out of the room. His young companion followed close behind, careful not to put herself in the line of fire. The last thing Bridget needed right now was a gunshot wound; Captain Rescue would probably try to operate.

  The hero subtly opened the door and peaked out. He turned back to Bridget and mouthed what the girl believed to be, “There rock down the hotdog.” But she was never any good at reading lips, and once she thought about it, she figured he probably said: “They’re right down the hallway.”

  With his hands, Captain Rescue instructed Bridget to stay put, which was fine by her. He tossed his cape over his shoulder and stood heroically before creeping into the hallway. After a few seconds, Bridget stuck her head out of the conference room and watched Captain Rescue press his back against the wall and slowly creep towards the armed crooks. In preparation for when they turned and saw a masked man closing in, he dug into his utility belt and removed a spherical grey object that sat comfortably in his palm.