Super Amos (2 page)

“You can stop right there. I know what you’re doing because it’s what you always do. It’s what you live for. You think you’re going to find some big mystery in this creepy place, don’t you?” Amos started for the door. “Well, you can count me out. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Leaving so soon?” A deep voice boomed from the upstairs landing.

Amos turned to see a tall man with a streak of white running through his dark hair, standing in the shadows at the top of the stairs. “I am Professor Brainard. You boys asked to see me?”

Dunc moved closer to the staircase. When he did, the man stepped farther back into the shadows. Dunc held out the envelope. “My dad works for the real-estate company you called yesterday. He asked me to bring these papers by.”

“How kind of you. You may put them on the table as you leave.” The man stared into
Dunc’s eyes for a few moments and then turned on his heel and moved down the hall. The black, satin-lined cape he was wearing twirled around him as he disappeared into the darkness.

Dunc stood motionless.

“I think that means he wants us to go now,” Amos said. He walked across the room and pulled on Dunc’s sleeve.

Dunc still didn’t move. He stared at the spot where the man had been standing.

“Are you okay?” Amos snapped his fingers in front of Dunc’s face. “Hey. Wake up.”

Dunc stumbled backward a few steps. “Wha— What happened?”

“Nothing. The professor told you to leave the papers on the table and get out. Then you went all weird on me.”

Dunc shook his head. “The strangest feeling came over me just now.”

Amos pushed him toward the door. “We’re getting out of here while we still can.” He grabbed the envelope from Dunc’s hand and tossed it onto the hall table.

A life-sized painting of a man hung just
above the table. Amos looked up at the man’s face. One side was normal but the other side was blue and twisted. Strange piercing eyes glared down at him.

Amos ran for the door.

•
3

A raindrop hit Amos on the nose. Overhead, thunderclouds were gathering and the wind whipped around him.

Dunc pedaled up beside Amos. “We’ll never make it back before the storm hits. Let’s take cover in the old junkyard at the end of the road.”

Amos nodded and followed Dunc down the dirt road to a high chain-link fence that surrounded mountains of old cars and other rusty junk.

Dunc stopped in front of the gate. It had a chain fixed securely around it. “Wouldn’t you know it?” He looked around. There were
no other buildings in sight and the raindrops were falling faster. “I guess we’ll just have to climb over.”

Thunder echoed nearby. The boys dropped their bikes and started climbing.

Dunc cleared the barbed wire at the top and easily dropped to the other side. Amos wasn’t as lucky. Just as he was poised to jump, the left leg of his pants snagged on the wire. He went down headfirst and then swung back, mashing his face into the fence.

The rain started pouring down. Dunc looked longingly at the shelter under one of the abandoned cars. Then he quickly climbed back up the fence and released Amos’s pants leg. Amos fell on his face in a mud puddle.

“Thanks a lot.” He sat up and glared at Dunc. “You could have at least given me some warning before you let go.” Suddenly Amos’s eyes widened. He pointed behind Dunc and tried to scream. The sound got stuck in his throat and came out a squeak.

A mammoth dog the size of a horse was sweeping down on them, snarling and dripping
white slobber. Dunc and Amos backed up against the fence. Every time they tried to move, the dog charged and snapped at them.

“Looks like another one of your great ideas bites the dust,” Amos said. He pressed as close to the fence as he could. The dog growled and stepped closer, showing sharp white teeth. “I don’t suppose you have some brilliant plan to get us out of this?”

Dunc eyed the dog. “Actually I was thinking that one of us could act as a decoy while the other one went for help.”

“Let me guess who you had in mind for the decoy.”

“Down, boy! Sit!” called a harsh voice. The dog dropped like an obedient puppy. A figure emerged through the sheets of rain, carrying a flashlight. Water dripped off the man’s hat while he patted the dog. “Now, is that any way to treat guests, Herc?” The big dog ducked his head and covered his face with one paw.

The man turned to the boys and smiled. “Come on up to my house and dry off.”

•
4

The boys were standing next to a wood-stove, shivering and dripping water on the linoleum floor of a run-down old house. A large puddle was forming beneath them.

The dog sat on the other side of the room. He cocked his big head to one side, studying every move they made.

Amos leaned close to Dunc. “I think that dog understands everything we say.”

Dunc held his hands out over the stove. “How could he? He’s just a dog.”

“Every time that old guy speaks, the dog acts like he understood.”

“Herc is a little smarter than your average
dog,” the man said, appearing with towels and a tray, holding two cups of steaming cocoa. He handed each boy a towel and set the tray on a pile of yellow newspapers. “He’s getting old, though.” The man cupped his hand and whispered, “I think he has a touch of arthritis.”

The dog gave a low growl. “I’m not too sure he agrees with you,” Amos said. He rubbed his hair dry and picked up one of the cups. “
Ummm
. This tastes good. Thanks for inviting us in, Mr.…”

“Ah … Smith. John Smith.”

Dunc picked up the other cup. “Have you been in the junk business long, Mr. Smith?”

“No.” The elderly man abruptly turned and walked out of the room. In a few minutes he came back with a mop. He handed it to Amos. “Would you get that puddle for me, son? I’ve got a touch of the arthritis myself.” He moved his shoulder in a circle. “It really flares up on rainy days like this.”

Mr. Smith shuffled to an easy chair with most of its stuffing hanging out and lowered himself into it gingerly. “What are you boys doing way out here anyway?”

Dunc gulped down a mouthful of hot chocolate. “My dad asked me to deliver some real-estate papers to the old Grogan mansion. We were just coming from there when we got caught in this storm.”

At the mention of the name
Grogan
, Mr. Smith sat up straight. “Did you by any chance talk to the new owner?”

Dunc nodded. “Strange man. He acts sort of suspicious. Like maybe he’s hiding something.”

“Was there anyone else at the mansion?”

“Only his assistant. Oh yeah, we passed the mayor as we were going in.”

Mr. Smith rubbed his chin nervously. Without saying a word he stood up and left the room again. The big dog jumped up and followed.

“Wonder what got into him?” Amos asked.

“Who knows? This whole day has been weird from the start.” Dunc pulled back the window curtain. “Looks like the rain stopped. I’ll go tell Mr. Smith we’re leaving. You take care of the mop and wet towels.”

Amos gathered everything up and went
down the hall to find the bathroom. He opened the first door. It was a bedroom just large enough for a cot and dresser. The second door was the bathroom. Amos hung the towels over the shower rod and set the mop in the tub. As he started back for the living-room, something red hanging on the back of the bathroom door caught his eye.
It couldn’t be
, he thought, blinking hard. But there it was, big as life.

The official uniform of Lightning Man.

•
5

Amos dropped his bike on Dunc’s lawn. “I’m telling you it’s him.”

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Mr. Smith is … well, he’s a senior citizen. And besides, Lightning Man isn’t real.”

Amos followed Dunc through the door and up the stairs. “If anybody would know about Lightning Man, I would. I have every comic book that’s ever been written about the guy, and I’m telling you it’s him.”

Dunc pushed his bedroom door open and sat down in his desk chair. “I can’t wait to
get these wet socks off. You want to borrow some dry clothes?”

“How can you think about dry clothes at a time like this?” Amos made a face and plopped down on Dunc’s bed.

Dunc pulled off his shoes and socks and then his T-shirt. “Even if what you say is true—which it isn’t—so what?”

“Are you kidding me? I thought you were the great detective, the master of mystery, the king of sleuthing. You really don’t see it, do you?”

Dunc reached for a clean shirt. “Go ahead, fill me in.”

Amos shook his head. “This is hard for me to believe. I actually solved a mystery before you.”

“Are you going to tell me or what?”

“Don’t you see? If Mr. Smith is Lightning Man, then the last comic book was right. He’s retiring.”

Dunc raised one eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s the big mystery?”

“Sure. It’s kind of exciting when you think about it. Wait till I tell Melissa we have an ex-superhero living in our town.”

“I’d hold off on that until I was sure about my facts if I were you.”

Amos sat up. “What else is there to know? He had the suit hanging on his bathroom door, didn’t he?”

Dunc gathered up his wet clothes and took them to the laundry chute in the bathroom. He came back with his hair combed and his shirt tucked in. Amos still looked like a wet unmade bed.

“Okay.” Dunc sat down again. “Let’s look at this thing logically. You found a pair of red long johns on a hook on Mr. Smith’s bathroom door.”

Amos shook his head. “Nope. It was the official Lightning Man crime-fighting outfit. I’d know it anywhere.”

“He could have ordered it. They probably sell them for Halloween.”

“It’s not Halloween.” Amos snapped his fingers. “And besides, what about the dog? He called him Herc, short for Hercules. As in Hercules the Wonder Dog.” Amos stuck his chin out and folded his arms smugly.

“Hercules is a common name for a dog. That doesn’t prove anything.”

Amos’s face fell, then brightened again. “What about the way Mr. Smith acted when you told him about the old Grogan place? I bet he still keeps track of all the major arch-criminals and Professor Brainard is probably right up there at the top of the list.”

Dunc tapped his chin. “It
was
a little strange that when I went to tell Mr. Smith goodbye I couldn’t find him or his dog anywhere.”

“So you admit I’m right? Mr. Smith is Lightning Man?”

“No. But I do think he knows something about Professor Brainard and the old Grogan place he’s not telling.”

•
6