'Man Power'

A little free fiction for your Tuesday

The obelisk thrust into the sky about a hundred yards ahead. Thirty-feet tall, it stood alone on the rise, a memorial to an ages-old shipwreck, all hands lost. Two flashlight beams flirted over its smooth surface.

D-Too stopped walking and held out his hand. “I need to be way drunker than this.”

The paper bag crunched as Rob handed over the bottle of cheap whiskey he’d carried from the parking lot. They’d already drunk it down to the top of the label. D-Too fumbled the cap open. “Here’s to stupid ideas.” He took a swig and handed the bottle back.

“The Sarge won’t do us wrong.” Rob drank the whisky a half inch lower and screwed the cap back on. “Onward!”

The moonlight went into overdrive as they approached the memorial, reflecting off the gray stone and making the flashlights redundant.

“Took you long enough!” Sgt. Tim boomed. He flicked his flashlight beam into D-Too’s face. “It’s only twelve minutes to midnight.”

“Don’t listen to him. We just got here, too,” said Darren, the thin man beside Tim.

Rob flipped a salute at Tim. “Sarge.” He nodded at Darren. “Darren. Nice night.” He offered up his bottle.

“Let’s get this started,” Tim said. “We miss our window we can’t try again for another year. Circle up.”

The four men stumbled into a rough oval and faced each other.

“There’s no way candles are going to work in this wind,” D-Too said.

“We’ll just use a flashlight,” Tim said. “It won’t matter. Somebody hold one so I can see.”

Tim opened a leather-bound book. Darren spilled his flashlight’s beam onto the yellowing pages.

“This something one of your buddies in Special Forces found, Sarge?” Rob said.

Darren snorted. “Tim was in Intelligence. He read maps and looked at pictures.”

Tim scowled. “The guy who sold it to me is in Special Forces. Now shut up. I need to time this right.” He cleared his throat and read a line from the page.

“Is that Arabic?” Rob said. “What’s it mean?”

“It’s Old Norse,” Tim growled. “And if I stop to translate everything we’ll never get it done in time.” He read the rest of the page carefully. Following instructions scribbled in the margins of the book, the men marched in place and took two steps to the right. They turned in circles and shouted “Heya!” Tim read another page and pricked each man’s thumb with sterile lancets. They mingled their blood on the page of the old book.

“It says here we need to put our dicks together. Unzip.”

“What the hell?” D-Too backed away.

“It says, ‘Bring that which makes you men together’,” Tim said.

Rob fumbled at his fly. “Do they need to, like, cross or just touch?”

D-Too shook his head. “Not doing it.”

Darren sighed. “Just get it over with. Sergeant Rock will never let us hear the end of it.” He unzipped his pants.

The oval distorted as the men tried to get into position. “They need to touch at the stroke of midnight,” Tim said.

“Heh.” Darren chuckled. “He said ‘stroke.’”

Rob struggled to peer over his stomach. “Are they touching?”

“Thrust your hips forward and learn your shoulders back,” Tim said.

The men pushed closer together, eyes on the sky.

“Should I pull my foreskin back?” Rob said.

“Shut up!” D-Too hissed.

The heads of their penises made contact. “Hold it there!” Tim shouted the last line of the spell. Their muscles locked as the power built.

“Something’s happening!” Rob said. “Something’s--!”

###

“How was your weekend?” Angela said.

“Hmm?” Darren stopped playing with the bandages on his fingers.

“The long weekend.” She put her elbows on the cubicle wall between them. “What did you do?”

“Saw some old friends. Guys I’ve known forever. I’ve told you about them.” Darren pointed at the picture on his desk. He, Rob, and Tim had been friends since middle school. The other Darren, D-Too, had come along sophomore year.

“Beer and bad decisions?” she said.

“Something like that. You?”

“Went to Cleveland to see Carl’s parents.”

Darren hid a wince. “How’s that going?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “I understand him better now that I’ve met his mother.”

“I told you.”

She nodded. “I should have listened.”

Darren carefully lined his pen up with his keyboard. “It’s not too late to ditch him.”

“He’s not a bad guy. He’s just --.” She sighed. “He’s soft. You know?”

“Mmm.”

“Are you heading home soon?” she said.

“Just about. Why?”

“My car won’t start. I was hoping you could take a look at it.”

Darren shrugged into his jacket and followed her out to the parking lot. Back when she worked in the cubicle next to his she’d driven an aging Honda Civic. The promotion that moved her to the other side of the building had merited a silver Audi Quattro. It shone impotently in a reserved parking spot near the building’s entrance.

“Did you leave the lights on?” Darren said.

“They’re supposed to turn off automatically.” She handed him the keys.

Darren slid behind the wheel. The starter cranked gamely. He tried to remember what he’d yawned through in shop class so many years before. Cars needed both fire and fuel to run. If the battery had enough charge to crank.... He popped the hood and bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. He lifted the hood.

“Heya,” he said.

“What?” Angela said.

“Nothing.”

Rob showed up first, a cheerful presence inside Darren’s head. Missing us already?

D-Too’s thoughts tasted sour. This is not a good time.

Tim, as ever, took charge. What’s going on?

Darren blinked at the snarl of wires and tubing inside the Audi’s engine compartment.

Angela’s car won’t start.

THE Angela? Rob crowed.

Darren nodded and looked over to where Angela shivered hopefully.

She lit a cigarette. “Can you do anything?”

“Maybe.” Darren found the battery and jiggled the cables attached to it. He could also check the oil, and that was about where his automotive knowledge ended. What do I do?

So, we’re going to use this to impress girlfriends? D-Too said. That’s what we’re going to do with it.

She’s not my girlfriend, Darren said.

D-Too’s derision came through clearly. I didn’t spend five-hundred bucks to impress some chick who put out for you–

Darren’s thoughts turned red. Can you help me or not?

Did she leave the lights on? Rob said.

I don’t know anything about Japanese cars, Tim said.

I think Audis are Swedish, Rob said.

They’re German, Darren said. You all are useless. “Heya.” The other presences in his head faded.

“Did you get it?” Angela said.

Darren closed the hood. “I’ve no idea what to do.”

“Thanks for looking at it.” She said. “I guess I’ll just text Carl for a ride and get a tow.”

###

“Heya!” Rob struck a dramatic pose, arms raised above his head. His fingertip trickled fresh blood.

What’s the problem? Darren said.

Rob pointed. I can’t get that jar open.

Pickles! D-Too said. Now we’re using it for pickles!

Did you try hitting the bottom of the jar with a spoon? Tim said.

I also ran it under cold water. Rob picked the jar up. I tried everything I could think of. I need the Might of the Four.

Alright, Tim said. Grab hold. On the count of three. One. Two. Three!

Their strength combined, and the lid came right off.

###

Heya.

Darren had been deep in REM sleep. One moment he’d been dreaming about riding a vacuum cleaner down the street, the next a thick-set man with onion breath was yelling in his face. What…?

D-Too’s about to kick someone’s ass, Rob said.

D-Too’s fists were clenched, and he was blinking furiously. His lip was bleeding.

“I know plenty of little shits like you!” The thick-set man jabbed his finger into D-Too’s narrow chest. “I work down at the prison. Go ahead. Try me.”

Elaine’s here, Tim said. He’s been looking for her all night. She just slapped him.

“Please come home.” D-Too looked past the yelling man to Elaine. “I’ll sleep on the couch. We can talk in the morning.”

The thick-set man got in D-Too’s face again. “You just try it! Just try it!”

Elaine put her hand on the man’s meaty arm. “He won’t hurt me.”

Watch his right, D, Tim said. You see how he’s moved his left foot ahead?

Deck him! Rob said. You have the strength and speed of the four of us! Put him down!

Get ready to slip under his punch, Tim said. He’s going to loop it. Get inside it, and put your left forearm in his throat.

Get out of here, Darren said. You’re not going to help anything by hitting this guy and getting arrested.

“Just go home!” The stress was clearing away Elaine’s buzz. She was crying and her face was blotchy. “This isn’t about you!”

A well-muscled bald man in a black T-shirt approached them from the left. “Hope we’re not having any trouble here.”

“No trouble.” D-Too’s gut was churning. “I was just leaving.” He turned and pushed through the crowd toward the bar’s entrance.

Good move, Darren said. You can talk it out when-

“Shut the fuck up!” D-Too pulled the heavy front door off its hinges and dropped it on the floor. The noise of the crowd stopped. Elaine covered her mouth with her hand. The big man who said he was a prison guard paled.

What fucking good are any of you?

###

“Heya.”

Catherine Stuart frowned. “Did you say something, Tim?”

Tim shook his head. “Just clearing my throat.”

Hey, Sarge! Rob said.

Tim pulled his sleeve over the scab he’d just picked open. “I’m not sure I understand the question, Mrs.--.”

“Miss.” She smiled. “I’ve seen your file. You spent six years in the Army as a human intelligence collector.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

What’s up? Darren said.

D-Too’s here, but he’s really drunk, Rob said.

Catherine Stuart nodded. “That was some time ago. What have you done to keep your skills current?”

Tim stammered. “I’ve attended several seminars and--.”

“What do you know about computers?”

“Like Facebook and all that?”

She shook her head. “I’m thinking more about coding and algorithms. I have a vendor who says we can save money and prevent more product loss with his computers than you can with your team.”

What do I say? Tim was sweating buckets.

Tell her it’s bullshit, Darren said. Computers are good at a lot of things, but they’ll never be able to match your experience and intuition.

Is that true? Tim said.

Hell if I know.

Tim took a sip of water. “With all due respect, Miss Stuart, that’s wrong. Computers may get there eventually, but they aren’t up to catching the things that my team and I see.”

“The vendor said you’d say that.” Catherine put a folder on the table and opened it up to show two pie charts. “We’ve been running a little experiment. We’ve had his program analyzing our video feeds for the past two months. Want to know what we found?’

Shit! Rob said. Abort! Abort!

“I can see what your charts say,” Tim said. “They did better than we did.”

“Twenty-seven percent better,” she said. “Based on this report I’m recommending that we close your department down.”

Tim felt dizzy. What do I do?

###

D-Too was exhausted, and he couldn’t figure out how to assemble the bike he and Elaine had ordered for their daughter’s birthday. The vodka wasn’t making it easier.

He picked up the cheap adjustable wrench and tightened its jaws on the nut.

“Here we go,” he breathed. “Righty tighty, lefty--.” The wrench slipped, and he skinned his knuckles on the cement floor. “God-damnit!” He flung the wrench at the garage wall.

Once upon a time, Elaine would have come out to see what was wrong. She would have gotten the first-aid kit from the kitchen and sat down with him to puzzle out the gift’s instructions. D-Too could have done it himself if he could just figure out where the English instructions became Spanish and stopped being Japanese, but drunk didn’t help dyslexia. He blotted his bloody knuckles on the hem of his T-shirt.

Rob could have put the thing together without instructions. Tim would have organized them into a crack bicycle-assembling team. Darren’s jokes would have broken the tension. But then they’d know he’d been crying and that he hadn’t been man enough to keep his marriage together.

D-Too kicked the box the bike had arrived in. It wasn’t enough. He dropped to his knees on the cement floor and sobbed.

###

Rob slammed his shoulder into the door again. “Heya! I fucking need you!” The smoke made him cough. “Force of the Four! Heya!” His knuckles were bleeding.

Don’t charge it; kick it! Tim said. Right near the latch!

Rob lifted a size-eleven work boot. The strength of four men drove the door out of its frame and into the room beyond.

Who’s in here? Darren said.

Neighbor lady, Rob said. Two kids.

And a dog, D-Too said. Over near the TV.

The dog, some kind of pit bull mix, was barely visible through the smoke.

People first, Tim said. There!

Rob shouldered open an interior door. A woman was lying on the carpet in lounge pants and a T-shirt. He picked her up with one arm.

What floor are we on? Darren said.

Fourth. Rob coughed. Same as me.

Keep moving, Tim said. Get the kids.

Rob carried the woman back to the living room and into the kitchen.

Why aren’t the alarms going off? D-Too said.

Shitty landlord. Rob punched open the hollow-core door near the fridge. The kids’ room. He slung a child over each shoulder, a pre-teen in pigtails on the right and a kindergarten-aged boy on the left.

Get them out of here! Tim said.

What about the dog? Rob said.

Come back for it! Darren said.

Rob sprinted for the front door of the apartment. As he entered the hallway the sprinklers triggered. He yelled and hammered on doors as he went. The stairwell was clear, but the exit door at the bottom opened only a few inches.

It’s chained, Rob said. Fucking landlord!

Force it, D-Too said.

Rob roared and shoved the door with all of his extra might. The chain burst, and he stumbled into the fresh air. He jogged across the parking lot to lay his neighbor and her children on the grassy median.

Make sure they’re breathing, Tim said.

The woman coughed. “Rob? What?”

Rob took her hands. “I got the kids out, too, Rosara. They’re safe.”

A fire engine and ambulance pulled into the parking lot. Rob flagged down the paramedics and pointed the family out.

Now you can try for the dog, Tim said.

Rob grinned. Supermen to the rescue. He took a step. “Oh, shit.”

What? Tim said.

I can’t--. Rob’s presence faded.

What’s happening? Darren said.

Rob? Tim said. Say something, buddy. Answer me!

###

Darren tucked a $20 in Rob’s breast pocket.

“Drinking money?” Tim said.

Darren nodded. “Something my father used to do. It was either the price of a drink or cab fare depending on who he was talking to.”

D-Too added a five. “Now he has both.”

Tim frowned.

“What?” D-Too said. “I didn’t have time to stop at a machine.”

Tim slid a brand-new pocket knife under Rob’s folded hands. “I told him he needed to lose weight. He’ll be a bitch to carry out.” He rapped his knuckles on the side of the coffin. “It’s quite a box.”

Darren nudged D-Too with his elbow. “Hey, I’m sorry about you and Elaine.”

“It happens. Anything going on with Angela?”

“Nah.”

Tim gripped the edge of the coffin. “Did we do this? Did we kill him?”

Darren sighed. “He would have tried to play hero anyway.”

“We saved those people’s lives,” D-Too said. “He would have said it was worth it.”

“The power’s gone now,” Tim said. “We could go back next year. Try the ritual again.”

“Strength of the Three?” Darren said

“It only works with four,” Tim said.

D-Too wiped his eyes. “How about Jason?”

“That bald guy who played guitar at your wedding?” Darren said.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” D-Too said.

“Does he know anything about cars?” Darren said.

Tim shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

—The End—

News: This post was a bit long (although I hope entertaining), so I will spare you any news. However, if you are in a pre-ordering mood: “Earth Retrograde” is on course for October 2023. Until next time, blue skies. -rob