A Mind Not Worth Controlling (A Captain Rescue Short Story) Page 2

  ***

  Through the window, Bridget watched the storefronts and awnings outside blur by at unimaginable speeds, their details unrecognizable. To avoid the nauseated feeling rising up in her stomach, she peered at Captain Rescue. He was hunched over in his cramped car, draped by his hefty cape. With his leather gloves gripping the steering wheel, his grin widened, and he pressed the gas.

  “Aren’t you going a little fast?” the young woman yelled as her head bumped against the roof of The Rescue Machine.

  He 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 they hit a passing sign, which flew into the air. Bridget glanced over her shoulder and through the rear window as the sign tumbled magnificently. After a few flips, it came back down and smacked headfirst into the ground. Knocked loose by the impact, the round sign bounced back into the air.

  Bridget stared at Captain Rescue. “What is wrong with you!?”

  He laughed. “Nothing! I’m just teaching crime a thing or two about manners!”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh… well… if you put it that way... all right then.”

  As they sped down the busy city street toward an impending intersection, the teenager closed her eyes and hoped for the best. Her mind began to race. Had Captain Rescue gone insane? Had the years of fighting crime finally gotten to him? Had he given up his noble ways for villainy? Or was something more sinister at play here? A mind was a fragile thing. If someone or something tampered with Captain Rescue, he wouldn’t be the same.

  He gave another maniacal laugh, giving more credence to her 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 an anxious laugh, then opened her eyes once more. The hero was staring at her instead of the road. Against her better judgment, she forced her eyes to the road and hoped he did the same.

  “Watch out!” she shrieked.

  Captain Rescue’s gaze shot forward. An elderly woman, kept upright by her metal walker, stood in the middle of the street. He looked back at Bridget, smiled, and then gunned his tiny vehicle.

  The young girl ducked under the dash. “What are you doing?!”

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

  Horror filled Bridget’s eyes as The Rescue Machine narrowed the gap, the innocent woman in its sights. But at the last second, the car sped by, yanking the walker clean out of her hands and dragging it across the asphalt. He glanced over his shoulder and laughed boyishly as the woman made obscene gestures at him. As pedestrians stopped to help her, Captain Rescue resumed his joyride.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Bridget asked.

  He slammed his foot against the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden halt. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Bridget plowed into the dash, then pushed herself away as cars wove around the stationary vehicle. “You just seem to be acting a little… peculiar.”

  His mouth contorted in offense. “I am a hero! And this is what heroes do!” He cheered up spontaneously. “Now let’s find some bad guys!”

  As if summoned for that specific purpose, a wailing police cruiser whizzed by. Bridget considered escaping, but before she could see if the door was locked, the car dashed forward in pursuit. The Recue Machine raced along, and rather than giving right-of-way to nearby vehicles, it instead gave scratches and dents. Bridget yelped and buried her head beneath the dash once more.

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

  “What do you mean?” Captain Rescue peered at her. As Bridget and the hero locked gazes, she saw within his eyes something not quite heroic, a hint of madness.

  She tensed up. “I just mean, you’re acting pretty reckless. You seemed… more heroic all of those times I’ve seen you on TV.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She had the distinct impression he was shrugging off her observations. Was some malevolent force protecting itself, or was Captain Rescue daft? After all she’d witnessed today, Bridget wasn’t sure, and these thoughts only caused her suspicions to grow. But she had to play it safe. If the hero were mind-controlled and became aware of it, his brain might spontaneously explode. She would have to find some way to break this strange spell that had overcome Captain Rescue. With her help, perhaps he could return to his former self.

  Bridget kept quiet and peeked over the dash. In front of them, the police cruiser weaved haphazardly in and out of traffic. It was fortunate that civilians yielded to the cop car, and subsequently Captain Rescue’s tiny vehicle. Otherwise, his reckless driving might very well smear their remains down the road.

  Bridget ducked back down and listened to the sounds of tires against asphalt, as well as Captain Rescue’s flippant cursing. When The Rescue Machine began to slow a short time later, she looked up. Surrounding an everyday office building was an armada of police cruisers and SWAT vans. Captain Rescue ignored the parking lot’s entrance and drove his vehicle over a curb, stopping just before crashing into a nearby cruiser. He slammed on the brakes, and Bridget found herself yet again smashing into the dash.

  “It’s show time!” Captain Rescue said to his unwitting sidekick. Then he swung open the door and climbed out.

  Bridget gulped nervously and disembarked. From every direction, police eagerly approached the hero. She’d seen interviews with him on TV before, so she had an idea how he normally conducted himself.

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

  Bridget coughed; he had certainly never conducted himself like this.

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

  One of them motioned to the nearby office building. “We’ve got a 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, you know, ask them questions and serve them justice.”

  “Oh, I will be serving them, all right!” Captain Rescue said, chuckling again. “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 uncommonly angry hero turned his attention to the office building. “So… we done here?”

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

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

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

  At a complete loss, she shrugged.

  Before they could discuss Captain Rescue’s mental state further, the hero grabbed Bridget by the wrist and began dragging her toward the besieged office building. Together they marched to the entrance, peered inside, and saw a dozen very furious, very armed men.

  Captain Rescue looked at the young girl. “We should probably go around to the side and sneak in. That way they don’t know we’re coming!”

  The color bled from her face. “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 had no clue where that title came from, and she was reasonably frightened to refute it. Captain Rescue grabbed her once more by the wrist, and around the side they went. Ascending a modest hill, Bridget could see that the building was partially underground, the
remaining slope cradling the wall.

  Captain Rescue reached the top and stopped before a random, waist-high window. He knelt down, pressed his leather-clad palms against the glass, and tried to lift the window, but, locked securely, it refused to budge.

  He let out a sigh. “Man. I was gonna be so stealthy. They would’ve never seen me coming.”

  Bridget pointed at his utility belt. “Don’t you have glass cutters or something?”

  “No… but I’ve got something far better!” The hero lifted his arm. “Brute force!”

  He shoved his elbow against the window. There was a resounding crack, but it sure wasn’t that of glass.

  Bridget patted him on the shoulder. “That doesn’t work quite as it does in the movies, does it?”

  Captain Rescue rubbed his elbow and shook his head.

  With a defeated sigh, he grabbed a nearby rock. After a few good whacks, the window cracked and Captain Rescue smashed it with his elbow. The fragmented shards spilled onto the floor below, and after brushing away any leftovers, the hero climbed through. Under a serenade of crunching glass, he hit the ground not so gracefully, then helped Bridget down.

  After she had gotten to her feet, Captain Rescue nodded, swung around, and faced the conference room before them. In the center and surrounded by toppled chairs, a rectangular table had snapped in two and collapsed inwards. Piled in the middle were random office supplies and mugs, creating a disgusting mush of paper and coffee. Captain Rescue tiptoed around the table and headed for the double doors leading out of there. His young companion followed close behind, careful not to put herself in the potential line of fire. The last thing Bridget needed right now was a gunshot wound; Captain Rescue would surely try to dig the bullet out with his teeth.

  The hero discreetly opened the door and peeked 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 realized he probably said, “They’re right down the hallway.”

  With both hands, Captain Rescue silently instructed Bridget to stay put. The hero then crept into the hall. After a few seconds, Bridget stuck her head out of the conference room to watch. Captain Rescue had pressed his back against the wall and was inching toward the armed crooks. When he neared the end of the hallway, she saw him dig into his utility belt and withdraw a small, grey sphere.

  Just before Captain Rescue’s stealthy approach could see any sort of success, the crooks turned, noticed him, and pointed their weapons his way. With a girlish shriek, the hero panicked and lobbed the gadget. The sphere flew through the air and smacked a hostage-taker square on the forehead. Immediately, a wondrous grey smoke screen enveloped him and his armed friends. Yelling ensued, and the crooks began firing aimlessly into the cloud. In response to the chaos, Bridget retreated into the conference room.

  “I’m coming for all of you dirty criminals!” she heard him shout from down the hall, which only amplified the gunfire. Despite this wonderful opportunity to flex his heroic muscles, Bridget saw he had another thing in mind. Instead of darting around in the grey smoke picking them off one by one, Captain Rescue stepped into the conference room and smiled at her. The duo then waited patiently for the crooks to murder each other.

  After a few seconds, the random gunfire died down and the smoke cleared. Captain Rescue and Bridget poked their heads out of the room. Down the hall, the wounded criminals bled all over. As far as she could tell, they were still alive, more or less.

  Beaming like a child who had just incinerated an insect under his magnifying glass, Captain Rescue stared at Bridget. “Did you see how awesome I was back there? Those crooks didn’t know what hit them!”

  She nervously scratched the side of her neck. “But uh… what about the hostages?”

  Captain Rescue’s arrogant smirk vanished, and he shrugged. “Oops?”

  There was a distant crash and a rush of feet as the police swarmed into the building.

  “Wow,” one of them yelled down the hall, “you did amazing work, Captain Rescue. All of the criminals have been, uh, neutralized, and only one of the hostages was injured! And all he lost was a finger!”

  “See,” Captain Rescue said to Bridget. “I did good!”

  His brain might spontaneously explode, but she couldn’t take this anymore. The time had come to confront the hero. “Are you absolutely sure you’re feeling all right? Nothing I’ve heard about you ever suggests that you make it a habit to put innocent lives at risk.”

  Captain Rescue glared at her. “What?”

  Bridget rolled her eyes and leaned in close to him. “I think you’ve been mind-controlled! It’s the only thing that can explain how odd you’re acting.”

  Captain Rescue laughed. “Who would want to control my mind?”

  She rolled her eyes again. “That’s a good question. When was the last time you came into contact with your arch nemesis, Dr. Malevolent?”

  Captain Rescue scratched his head. “It’s been a few weeks! She’s been oddly quiet since we last fought.”

  “Well,” Bridget said with a shrug, “have you encountered anything strange recently? Any weird substances… or spinning black and white spirals?”

  Captain Rescue looked into the sky, thinking deeply. “I don’t think so.”

  The young girl bit her lip. “It’s weird. It’s like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

  “I did!” Captain Rescue exclaimed.

  “What do you mean, you did?”

  He scrunched his face and growled. “I woke up staring at that damn wall, and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to punch it.”

  Bridget laughed a crazy laugh. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me that this foul mood you’re in is because you literally woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  Captain Rescue didn’t look so surprised. “If you don’t start your day off right, it’s ruined!”

  Bridget threw her hands into the air. “I guess that explains everything!” As Captain Rescue started to head down the hall and toward the hostages and wounded criminals, she added, “Wait, where are you going?”

  He shrugged. “My work here is done. I have to go find more bad guys to beat up.”

  As Captain Rescue stepped around the criminals and their pools of blood, one of the gunmen grabbed his ankle. He just kicked the man’s arm away, laughed, and spat on him. With the job well done (well being a very relative term), the hero and the young girl left the building through the paramedics rushing to treat the wounded hostage, and his finger.

  They exited through the smashed open doors, their feet crunching against shattered glass. Bridget knew she had to do something—and fast. “We have to find some way to turn your day around. What’s one way you bring yourself up when you’re down?”

  His eyes lit up. “Ice cream always cheers me up!”

  Bridget laughed. “I guess that’s a good place to start.”

  They headed towards The Rescue Machine as police congratulated the hero on a job well done, even if his antics did cost a finger. As the duo climbed into his tiny car, Bridget piped up, “Good thing there’s an ice cream parlor right around the corner!”

  Captain Rescue just gave her a wicked smile and put the pedal to the metal, crashing down from the curb and speeding into traffic. Bridget resumed her position buried under the dash, waiting for them to either die, or arrive safely at the ice cream parlor. After a few nervous minutes, Bridget felt the tiny vehicle screech to a stop. Then she heard a loud ding and the distinct sound of metal hitting the concrete, followed by coins spilling onto the sidewalk. Lifting her head, she saw the glorious spinning ice cream cone atop the parlor’s roof—as well as the parking meter Captain Rescue knocked over. They had arrived.

  “Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!” the hero chanted as he climbed out of The Rescue Machine. He barged through the double glass doors and walked up to the counter.

  “Gimme two
sundaes for me and my friend,” he sneered.

  “Uh, sure thing,” the server replied sheepishly.

  Bridget just tried to subtly apologize with a weak smile and a shrug.

  The employee nodded and grabbed a pair of glistening bowls. She knelt down and began scooping ice cream from the buckets. A few seconds later, the server placed the sundaes upon the counter and stuck a spoon in each one. Captain Rescue snatched the nearest and stormed out of the parlor without saying thank you—or paying.

  Bridget turned to the employee and winced as she dug into her pocket for money. “I’m sorry, he’s been acting strange today. We thought maybe some ice cream would cheer—”

  A shatter of glass interrupted her explanation, and Bridget swung around just as Captain Rescue barged back through the doors. Behind him, the remains of the sundae and its glass bowl lay all over the ground. Everyone grew quiet as he stared at the server. Bridget cringed, expecting him to berate the girl over something mundane, but no—his eyes began to well.

  “I’m so sorry!” Captain Rescue cried out.

  The hero fell to his knees, bawling like a child. He then clambered to his feet and started to climb over the counter, but paused. Instead, he ran around the counter, grabbed the waitress, and gave her quite the bear hug. “You’re a wonderful human being, and I’m sorry!”

  He turned to Bridget. “And you! I would still be that monster if it wasn’t for you!”

  She laughed. “You weren’t that bad.”

  Captain Rescue held up his pinky. “Some guy lost a finger because of me! And loads of other people are in the hospital!”

  “Well,” Bridget began, “let this be a lesson to you.”

  He placed his hands heroically upon his waist. “Yes, ice cream cures all problems, and eating too much of it gives you one heck of a brain freeze!”

  He grabbed Bridget by the wrist and led her back out of the ice cream parlor. “Let’s go, kid; I’ve got some more criminals to kill.”

  She stopped in her tracks.

  “Just kidding!”

  Captain Rescue slapped his new friend on the shoulder, and the two of them climbed back into The Rescue Machine. From there, they embarked on a quest to find more innocents to help, more lives to save, and more criminals to put behind bars—without killing or maiming any of them.

  Now, if Bridget had been the observant type, she might have noticed the small device on the back of Captain Rescue’s neck, the small device altering his brain chemistry, the small device that stopped functioning when he shoved almost an entire cup of ice cream into his mouth. Nothing can control a brain that frozen. As Captain Rescue scratched the back of his neck, he found the small device, assumed it was a mere bug, and tossed it from the open window. The tiny piece of technology hit the asphalt, its Acme label clearly visible, and rested there for a brief moment before passing vehicles destroyed it.

  If you enjoyed this exciting short story (don’t be silly, you did), then be sure to check out A Drizzle of Zombies, Captain Rescue’s first full-length novel. It’s got everything a woman would want: zombies, adventure, gore, and an unseen evil orchestrating the whole kit and caboodle. What’s not to love? Nothing. Nothing’s not to love.

  Coming summer 2012.

  If you’re reading this in the distant future, then I’m sure there are plenty of other novels published, so check those out too.

  Since you’ve bothered reading this far, you must have really enjoyed this story. Why not take it to the next logical step? Sign up for the newsletter on my fair website (www.manyannals.com). Then the series of tubes that is the internet will notify you when A Drizzle of Zombies, and each subsequent entry into the Annals of Absurdity, is released. So hit that up. Knowledge is power, and it’s being given away for free.

  About the author (me!):

  Josh Price (1986-2117 [assuming the continued advancement of technology and barring any civilization-ending catastrophes]) is an independent writer specializing in short, hilarious, and witty books in an ongoing series of superhero adventures. He grew up in Texas, but now spends his days in Missouri, where he has no real-life friends (but oodles of Internet ones) and hardly leaves the house. In his spare time, which he has an awful lot of, he writes, plays video games, listens to music, and hangs around the house naked. In that order.