14. Doug

FOURTEEN

DOUG

In which Doug learns that his sidekick is a talking tortoise. An annoying one.

The shopping center was as empty today as it had been yesterday. Emptier because the tent was gone.

"Motherfucker," Doug said as he peered around, trying to manifest any sign of Nick Sedgewick out of thin air.

"What do you see out there?" Tim asked.

Right, because he couldn't see out the windows. Doug had given up being weirded out by a tortoise talking to him. Nick was missing and that was all that mattered at the moment.

"Nothing. No cars. No people. The shops are as run-down and empty as they were yesterday."

"Is there anything else in the area?"

Doug shook his head. "Nope. Well, actually, it looks like there's something down an access road about a mile away. Maybe it's a house."

From where Doug sat, it looked to be a one-story house built from cinder blocks. He couldn't tell if anyone was inside, but there was a long driveway that curved around the back of the house. If cars were there, they were parked in the back.

"Are we flying or driving?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said—" began Tim.

"I heard what you said. I swore I'd never use any of my powers again."

"I believe it was never use them to kill again and don't you want to save Agent Sedgewick? The exact opposite of killing, I'd say. And it seems to me you like him."

Was an endangered tortoise employing innuendo? Yes. The answer was yes, causing Doug to wonder where in his life he'd made a wrong turn. Although, if he was being truthful, he felt like he'd laughed and had more fun in the past week than he had in the past twenty years and the reason was Agent Sedgewick.

He hated it, but if they wanted to get to the isolated house unseen and save Nick—if he was there—Doug was going to have to use some of his powers.

"Fine." Doug moved to open the car door.

"You're not leaving me here. You might need me."

Doug started to ask Tim just how he thought he could help but then realized he was about to start an argument with a reptile, and could the day get any weirder? Probably, the answer was yes.

He got out of the car, stomped around to the passenger side, opened the door, and grabbed Tim from the front seat.

"Do not drop me."

"Oh, Tim, it's tempting, it really is."

"Nick would be very upset."

Nick would be very upset. Doug slammed the door shut again and locked it for good measure.

Figuring the car would be fine if he left it where it was parked and replaceable if it wasn't, Doug glanced around to make sure that there really was no one in sight. The Pontiac would be safe, for sure—who in their right mind would want to steal it? Doug was still surprised it had made the trip without mechanical issue.

Holding onto Tim—who was muttering something under his breath—Doug lifted one arm, pointed at the cloudless sky, and shot upward.

"Yeeeee haaawww," Tim shouted. "I've always dreamed of flying."

"Well, I'm glad I've made someone's dream come true today. Let's see if together we can save Nick."

"I suspect that Agent Sedgewick is perfectly capable of saving himself but regardless, he will be happy to know you raced to the rescue."

It took less than three minutes for them to arrive at the isolated house.

"There's the Expedition," Tim said.

The tortoise was right. A dusty SUV with a damaged right front fender was parked at the end of the driveway around the back of the structure. Along with a shiny black hearse.

"What the hell."

Hoping to stay out of sight, Doug touched down at the back of the property line, managing to avoid several huge cacti, a mammoth wad of tumbleweeds, and a rusted-out farm truck. What passed for a backyard was filled in with faded red lava rocks and, inexplicably, a water fountain.

"What is this place?" Doug asked aloud.

The question was rhetorical because, obviously, it was a lair. He wondered if police or SPAM agents had come out here after discovering Agent Schoenhut in the coffin. He thought it was possible the structure was shrouded in some way that made it more difficult for normals to find. Those kinds of things had never worked on Doug though. He suspected it had something to do with his supernatural eyesight. Too bad it didn't work for reading fine print.

"Put me down. I'll do some recon."

"No offense, but any recon needs to be done immediately, not—you know, whenever." Doug waved a hand indicating the end of the week, month, year.

Tim shot him another dirty look. After setting him down on the sand and gravel, Doug watched the reptile crawl remarkably quickly and disappear around the side of the house.

Doug stayed in the shade of one of the cacti, scoping out what he could see from there and deciding how to approach the situation. When his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, he released a grunt, knowing it was SPAM. He hadn't told management that Nick had been abducted; he'd just driven off into the desert without a plan.

Not having a plan was not like Doug at all. Liking Nick was also not like Doug at all, but there he was.

Doug pulled out his phone and glanced down at the screen, angling it so he could read the word Report in the glare of the sun.

Uh, yeah, April, I lost your baby agent and hey, don't worry. I'm on my way to get him back from an unknown enemy. Everything is fine, just peachy.

The phone slipped easily into his back pocket. He'd ask for forgiveness later, after Nick was safe once again.

Tim came busting back around the corner. Doug swore he could almost see dust rising in his wake.

"What is it?" Doug demanded.

"He's in there. From what I could tell, there are at least three baddies along with Agent Sedgewick."

Doug wasn't going to ask how a tortoise could hear through cement walls. Maybe it was another subpar power.

"Any chance we know who the baddies are?"

"The head bad guy calls himself The Undertaker. I don't know about the others. I have the feeling they are in it for money and not much else."

"The Undertaker?" Doug scowled, racking his brain for a memory of the name. "I've never heard of this guy before."

Tim moved his head up and down in what Doug assumed was agreement.

"Did you hear Nick? Is he okay?"

"Gauging by the frustration level in The Undertaker's tone, I believe Nick is alive and, well, alive anyway."

"What do we do now?"

"Well, you are a superhero," Tim pointed out.

" Ex -superhero. But I get your point."

"We need to get them out of the house," said Tim. "And by we, I mean you."

"Agreed."

Doug was having a little problem getting over the fact that he was planning a rescue mission with a damn reptile.

"Do we want to know more about what they are up to?" Tim asked. "Or do we want to get Nick out of there ASAP?"

The only answer, of course, was what the fuck were they waiting for?

As Doug was contemplating—he hated, really hated, going in blind—the back door burst open and two large, muscly men burst out. Actually, they tried to burst out but managed to get stuck in the doorway like cartoon characters or one of those comedy teams from the 1930s.

Then… it happened again. And again. And again. Finally, the class-c henchmen broke free of the rewind and raced each other to the SUV. Doug probably should have stopped them, but he was only one ex-superhero and they were obviously in a hurry to get out of there. No doubt he could track them down later.

Porkpie Man was the next to appear. "Get back here, you cowards!" he screamed as the driver reversed, narrowly missing Tim, and gunned the SUV down the drive toward the highway.

Smiling grimly—very Jack Reacher, he thought—Doug moved toward the man standing in the doorway. When he saw Doug, The Undertaker blanched, backed up, and slammed the door shut, but Doug got there before he could throw the lock.

"Oh, no, you don't."

When Doug flat-palmed the door, it burst open and crashed back against the wall. It was very satisfying. The Undertaker froze in seeming indecision, then he stepped toward Doug instead of away.

"Don't let him touch you!" Nick yelled. "It gives him some kind of sick pleasure. He's mad because he couldn't read me, but he says he can tell how people die."

Doug paused, taking a second to let the relief that Nick was alive and seemingly unharmed wash over him.

His adversary sneered. "You are all fools!"

"What are you doing in a coffin?" Doug asked, ignoring The Undertaker.

"Don't worry about me—not now, you can do that later—just get him! Try not to touch him."

Returning his attention to the man in a black suit, Doug realized he was inching backward, away from Doug.

"Not really sure how I can restrain him without touching him," Doug said without taking his eyes off Nick's captor. The man was not getting away.

He'd reached a built-in counter covered with takeout wrappers and drink cups. The Undertaker fumbled around in the mess before grabbing what sounded like keys. With them in his fist, he made a dash for the door at the back of what had once been a kitchen, and presumably to the hearse parked just outside there. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Go!"

Jolting into action, Doug raced after him, fumbling with the doorknob before he crashed it open. Twenty feet away, The Undertaker was behind the wheel of the hearse and the engine revved to life.

"Yeah, no."

With a sputter and cough of the engine, the hearse began to roll away. Not a great escape vehicle. Doug put on a burst of speed. Reaching the car, he managed to grab the door handle and give it a tug. The door jerked open, putting him momentarily off-balance but not so much that he couldn't get a good grip on Pork Pie's arm and wrench him out of the slowly moving vehicle.

The stupid hat went flying as they both fell away from the car and onto the hard ground. Doug's head bounced off the packed dirt. He was going to feel that sooner rather than later. Pork Pie unfortunately landed on top of Doug and his hands closed around Doug's neck.

"Fucker," Doug gasped, doing his best to wrench the man's forearms away so he could breathe.

"You will die?—"

"We will all die someday, asshole," Doug panted. "It's the way life works."

Writhing, Doug managed a powerful scissor move that had him swapping places with Pie, putting Doug on top and forcing the air out of Pie's lungs so that his grip loosened, which gave Doug a chance to suck in oxygen. Pie thanked him by trying to knee Doug in the balls.

"I've had about enough of this."

A fist caught him in the side of the head. Sweat dripped down and the wind picked up, blowing dust into his face and eyes, but he blinked it away and managed to get his forearm against Pie's throat and press down, holding him in place. Defiant brown eyes stared back at him.

"Uncle?"

Sneering, the man writhed and twisted, but Doug was too strong for him—and had much better training. Then Pie spit in his face.

"That's it, no more Mr. Nice Guy." Rearing up, Doug flipped Pie onto his front, not caring that his face hit the dirt a tad forcefully. With a knee in the creep's back, Doug used the sleeves of the guy's suit to create a homemade straitjacket and immobilized him.

"There. Asshole."

Rising to his feet, Doug wiped the spit, dirt, and blood off his face.

"Nice work, Long Shot."

Glancing to one side, Doug saw that Tim had made his way around from the other side of the house.

"Thanks," he said, catching his breath.

"You came!" Nick's voice came from behind him.

"I did," Doug agreed, bending down to tie one last extra tight knot in the suit coat's sleeves. "Did you think I'd just let someone kidnap you?"

Because he was a stubborn ass himself, Doug refused to immediately turn and look at Nick. What he wanted to do was race over to him, pat him down, and make sure he was okay. When he finally did turn around, his heart did an odd little leap that had nothing to do with his age and everything to do with what Nick Sedgewick meant to him.

Well, damn.

"Hey," Nick said with a little smile.

"Hey yourself," replied Doug.

"Nice job there." Nick pointed at Porkpie Man.

"No problem." Doug brushed off his hands and stood back up. He was going to need Advil, ice, a shower, and a massage, and he didn't know which he wanted first.

"I thought I heard Tim." Nick glanced around, looking for the damn tortoise.

"I'm here," Tim said. "Wasn't fast enough to save the day, but I think I make good support material."

Nick looked a bit tattered and worn, probably not much different from Doug. A bruise was forming on his forehead and his hair was a mess, but he was alive, and Doug wanted to—well, dammit, why not? Closing the distance between them, Doug swept Nick into his arms and squeezed. Maybe a bit too tight because Nick squeaked.

"Sorry," he said, relaxing his hold.

Nick wrapped his arms around him. "Thanks for coming after me."

"I'm not completely heartless. Once Tim told me what happened, we got here as quickly as we could."

"Talking turtle."

"Talking endangered tortoise," Tim corrected.

Doug let his hands fall to his sides, but not before dropping a very unprofessional kiss on Nick's lips.

"We need to call SPAM. This asshole may have been stopped, but we still have missing agents. Could they be inside?"

The place was small, and Doug hadn't seen any obvious indication that Esther or any other agent had been near it.

"I haven't had a chance to look around yet."

"What did you do in there?" Doug suspected Nick had used his subpower, but he wanted to hear Nick's version of the story. "And don't try the big innocent eyes thing on me either."

"Hmph." Nick smiled and rolled his eyes instead. "I made time skip back several times in a row. I wasn't sure I could do it. Never tried before. The henchmen didn't seem that professional —not that I personally would know this kind of thing. I thought if I could make things be a little Freaky Friday—no, wrong movie—anyway, if short periods of time kept repeating themselves like a vinyl record skipping backward, I hoped it would scare them."

"It worked."

"It did!" Nick said brightly. His gaze fell on their prisoner. "He's…" Nick circled one finger at his temple. "Suffice it to say, maybe not quite all there. He said that he couldn't tell how I died, and I think it freaked him out. He also claimed to be trying to harvest powers."

"Lovely." Doug resisted the urge to kick Pork Pie in the ribs. "Nice work, Nick."

"Yeah." Nick beamed before peering down the drive toward the empty highway. "Do we have to go after those other guys?"

"No," said Tim. "They won't get far. I lowered the air pressure in one of the tires. And"—he waggled his long turtle neck—"I got the license plate this time."