Super Meals: Part Forty Six

            The blast was bigger than the one that destroyed the morgue.

            The damages were estimated at over a million dollars, after the city had taken into account the loss of the building, the damage to the water, sewer, and electrical systems, the damage to neighboring buildings, and the injuries of people standing around outside.

            Two of the police cars that had just arrived on the scene were declared complete wrecks, four more needed new windshields (which had been shattered by flying debris), and one had to replace the light bar.

             In the first seconds after the blast, everybody on the scene was too stunned to notice Walter climbing into the crater and pulling Adam’s body out of the debris. Their ears were ringing (and, in some cases, bleeding), so nobody heard him toss the body into the dumpster (which had been blasted across the parking lot).

            City officials later remarked that they were quite surprised and happy to hear about the lack of fatalities on the scene. The official story went down as a gas leak, caused by faulty pipe connections between the restaurant’s intake and the city’s supply. The restaurant manager, Mr. Michael Taurus, was working in the kitchen when he detected the leak and immediately evacuated the building. It is unknown what caused the spark that caused the explosion; there were wiring problems within the building, so it could have been electrical, and the garbage disposal area behind the restaurant was considered an unofficial smoking area for employees, so it could have been either. In the end, the city reached an agreement with the restaurant’s corporate legal team that no charges would be pursued on either side of the equation.

            The explosion that destroyed the morgue was attributed to the same leaky gas line, but since it was a government building and nobody was injured by that blast, the city quietly swept it under the rug with minimal explanation.

            Twenty-four hours after the restaurant exploded, the evidence collection team was on-site, combing through the rubble for evidence to substantiate the city’s claims. There were rumors already floating throughout the department of what really went down, but nobody took them seriously. Something about a serial killer being chased in there and taking hostages while real-life superheroes with amazing powers duked it out in the dining room. The evidentiary team did find a hand print molded into the steel counter, but the photographs of it ended up being corrupted files and disappearing from the police database. The hand print itself was cut from the counter and logged into evidence, but when investigators went to inspect it several days later, it was conspicuously missing from the evidence locker.

            The on-site investigation was temporarily disturbed when the collection team found a homeless man sleeping in the restaurant’s dumpster. He was covered in filth and completely naked, so they officers wrapped him in a blanket and called the local gospel mission to take him in. They gave him some secondhand clothes and a hot meal, then showed him to a bunk where he could get some rest, but by the morning he was gone.

            Detective Mimi Spatchcock, who, as the story went, bravely ran into the restaurant to lead the evacuation effort, was given a promotion to Detective Sergeant and stopped getting shit assignments from the higher ups. Her fellow officers pestered her for a while about what really happened, asking her what she saw when she went in and how she made it out before the blast, but she remained largely silent on the matter, telling people to go read the official report.

            Mister Walter Elliot received a cash settlement from the restaurant due to the injury he suffered from the explosion. The shrapnel that pierced his shoulder (so the official story went) caused severe enough damage that he never fully recovered the feeling in his right arm, of which he said, “It’s like my right arm is falling asleep all the time.” While he did maintain use of the limb, the physical damage and emotional trauma was enough that he received one of the highest settlements from the restaurant. He immediately hired a financial advisor to manage his accounts, and while he did not become wealthy, he did manage to live an average lifestyle without the need to hold down a job.

            A week after the restaurant was destroyed, Walter and Mimi and Adam and Jane met at a small, locally owned diner on the edge of town.

            “So what are you going to do?” asked Mimi.

            “I’ve been crashing at Walter’s place for the last week,” said Adam, “but it’s not big enough for two people so I think I’m gonna hit the road soon.”

            “Where to?” asked Jane.

            “Honestly? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, though, does it? I mean…I’m dead. It’s not like I can get a job again, at least, not anything legit.”

            Walter said, “Yeah, but, like…what? You think you’re just gonna wander around like the Hulk? Roam from town to town solving mysteries?”

            “Bitch, I don’t know, okay? I mean…it always looks so easy in the movies to just go hobo.”

            “I don’t think ‘hobo’ is a verb,” said Mimi.

            “Well, it is now,” said Adam.

            They fell silent when the waitress brought them drinks and took their orders. When she was gone, Jane said, “Want me to swipe you an identity?”

            Adam coughed into his glass, spraying Walter, and Mimi nudged her under the table. “What?” asked Jane.

            Adam asked, “You can do that?”

            “No, she can’t,” said Mimi. “It’s felony identity theft, even if the person is dead.” Adam’s face fell. “Which is why we’re only going to do it this once,” finished Mimi.

            Adam grinned as Jane slid an envelope across the table to him. “Don’t open it here,” said Mimi, “but there’s a damn good fake ID in there with a matching social security card, prepaid credit card, and a grocery store club card to round it all out.”

            “And here,” said Walter, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. “I picked this up for you the other day and was gonna give it to you later, but if you’re taking off you should have it now. It’s pre-paid, and I put a couple of month’s worth of money on the account, so you should be good for a while.”

            Jane said, “You were the only one who didn’t get a settlement or compensation or anything from that shitty fast food chain, so we all kicked in to help you out.”

            Adam, who was looking over his new identity cards, said, “Thank you. All of you.”

            Their food was delivered to their table a moment later – great, heaping platters of food epitomizing the concept of “greasy spoon” – and the conversation largely died out while they ate. When it was done they caravanned to a local big-box store and loaded up a backpack with some clothes, food, and toiletries, then drove Adam out to the edge of town to say goodbye.

            “You’ve got all of our numbers programmed into that thing,” said Walter, pointing to the phone, “so call if you need something.”

            “Thanks, brother,” said Adam, pulling him in for a hug.

            “You keep in touch anyway, okay?” asked Walter.

            “You got it.”

            They released, and Adam gave Mimi and Jane each a hug as well.

            “Don’t get into trouble now, you hear me?” asked Mimi.

            “Yeah, like it’s really intentional,” said Adam, smiling.

            “Don’t die again, would you?” Said Jane. “Next time, I’m not gonna be there to find your corpse.”

            “You didn’t do much for me this time,” said Adam.

            “Yeah, but it was my morgue,” said Jane. “I hear other coroners aren’t as fastidious or professional as I am. You wake up in a strange body bag somewhere, it might not be as easy to get out of.”

            Adam smiled and said, “I’ll remember that.”

            He turned and walked away.

            Jane took Mimi’s hand as they got into their car and drove away.

            Walter got into his car as well and drove away. He’d only gotten two blocks when his phone rang and the caller ID said it was Adam. Walter answered it, saying, “Jesus Christ, you’re, like, four blocks away and you’re already calling me for help? The fuck is wrong with you?”

            “Shut up,” said Adam. “And come back and get me.”

            “What for?” asked Walter.

            “What is this, the forties? I’m not gonna walk. Gimme a lift to the bus station, will ya?”

            Walter laughed and pulled the car around in a U-turn, heading back to pick Adam up.

EPILOGUE

            As clean up crews dug out the rubble that remained of the restaurant, they ended up below street level in the mostly unused basement.

            There were posters and standees and plastic statues of celebrities endorsing the restaurant or singing the praises of whatever promotion they’d been hired to talk about, as well as vats of industrial-grade cleaning supplies and tools.  The evidence team was no longer collecting samples, it was just contract construction crews shoveling bricks and dirt and sundry into dumpsters.

            One of the men jabbed his shovel into a pile of rocks and felt it jiggle.

            It wasn’t supposed to jiggle. It was supposed to be rocks and dirt and trash.

            The construction guy tossed his shovel aside and started shoving rocks and dirt aside with his bare hands.

            Bare hands reached back out at him.

            He tried to scream, but one of the hands clamped onto his mouth and kept him silent. As he stood up, and entire body came up with him.

            It looked…melted. Like someone had taken a flamethrower to a mannequin. The hands holding onto him were strong, and even though he tried to pry them off of himself, they didn’t budge.

            His flesh crawled, and so, too, did the flesh of this strange body. It crawled and shifted and molded itself until the terrified construction worker was looking at himself.

            A perfect replica.

            His doppelganger leaned in close and whispered, “You might be going insane, thinking you’re seeing things come out of the dirt at you, because this sort of thing doesn’t happen, does it? And that’s why you’re not going to tell anybody that this happened, are you?” The man whimpered under the hand clamped on his mouth and shook his head. “Good,” said the mimic. “You have an extra set of clothes in your work truck, don’t you?”

            The man nodded as best he could.

            “Run and fetch them for me.”

            He did, and when the figure was dressed it was impossible to tell the difference between the two of them.

            “Now,” said the stranger, “you are going to do one more thing for me, and then I will leave and you will never have to worry about me or whether or not you’re insane ever again. Do you understand?” The construction worker, terrified, but curious, nodded again.

            “Good. I need a plane ticket to Indiana.”

Super Meals: Part Forty Five

            The human body holds approximately 1.5 gallons of blood.

            Nearly two cups had already pumped out of Walter, and more was draining from the two holes in his shoulder.

            “What happened?” asked Mimi.

            “Well, my first guess is that I was shot,” said Walter. “But I suppose it’s possible that my shoulder chose that exact moment to spontaneously combust.”

            “Smartass,” said Mimi as she pulled his shirt aside to check the wound. The bullet had gone clean through, which, in movies, people always talked about like it was a good thing. In this situation, however, it meant that he was bleeding from two holes and he would most likely never raise his hand above his head again. “Luckily, it doesn’t look too bad,” she said.

            “Wow,” said Walter, “really? You mean a bullet didn’t just rip through blood and bone and leave two gaping holes in my shoulder?”

            Mimi grabbed as many napkins as she could off the counter and rolled them up. “What’s that for?” asked Walter.

            “You’re not going to like it,” said Mimi.

            “Yeah, like everything else that’s happened in the last two days has been so much fun,” said Walter.

            “Are you always this bitchy?” asked Mimi, helping Walter roll onto his side.

            “Only when I’m in mortal danger, apparently,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

            “Don’t ask,” said Mimi, “just grit your teeth.”

            “What?”

            In one swift motion, Mimi yanked the collar of Walter’s shirt down, tearing it and exposing the bullet hole in the back of his shoulder, then immediately jammed the roll of napkins into the hole.

            Walter screamed.

            Doctor Ralph reached the back door of the restaurant at full speed and burst into it. He was expecting it to fly open when he hit the push-bar, but since Adam had inadvertently melted the doorknob from the outside, it didn’t.

            Instead, his face smashed against the steel-reinforced door, knocking two teeth loose and bloodying his nose.

            He bounced back and tried slamming his shoulder against the door, but it still wouldn’t budge. He tried kicking it, but still nothing.

            Outraged, he turned back toward the kitchen. The employees and customers had all fled when the gunshots broke out – half-finished burgers and fries and assorted meals were left scattered around the prep stations, and a thought occurred to him.

            A quick glance at the restaurant gave him the impression that he was alone, since Walter and Mimi were on the floor behind the counter, but a second later Walter screamed.

            Doctor Ralph was going to have to work fast.

            He tucked the gun into the small of his back, like he’d always seen in the movies, and rolled up his sleeves as he started grabbing ingredients out of the cubbies around the kitchen.

            Outside, by the dumpster, Adam watched people stream out of the restaurant. Practically every one of them had a cell phone out, some taking pictures or recording video, and some calling 911.

            He tried the door, and that’s when he noticed the half-melted handle.

            He stubbed out his cigarette and walked around the far side of the building, away from the crowd.

            Mimi let Walter lay back flat again, but immediately smashed more napkins onto his shoulder, plugging the hole in the front. His face twisted further, but he didn’t scream this time.

            “Breathe,” said Mimi, and Walter, realizing he’d been holding his breath, blew out a long stream.

            “Thanks,” he whispered. “But now what?”

            Mimi popped her head up and looked around the restaurant to get an idea of what the situation had become and realized that they were practically alone. The only person left in the restaurant was Doctor Ralph, who appeared to be making himself a snack.

            “Stay here,” said Mimi, drawing her revolver.

            “Wait,” said Walter. “Where are you going?”

            “I’m going to arrest the prick. That’s why we came here, remember? Here,” she said, sliding the colorful boxed cheerful meal at him. “Play with your toy.”

            Doctor Ralph had several hundred recipes saved on his cloud drive.

            Every one of them killed their consumer.

            He’d have to try something new.

            Adam peered around the corner of the wall and through the window into the restaurant. He spotted Walter lying on the floor amidst a mix of blood and napkins and food wrappers and saw Mimi, weapon drawn, creeping around the far side of the counter.

            Ducking down low, he pulled the door open and slinked inside, crawling towards Walter. “Hey,” he whispered, but Walter didn’t hear him. “Dude,” he said, raising his voice by still trying to whisper. Walter either ignored him or didn’t hear him. When he reached him on the floor, Adam reached over and shook Walter by the shoulder, startling him.

            “GAH! Fuck!” shouted Walter, who, out of sheer instinct, flung his elbow backwards, catching Adam in the face.

            “Ow! Fuck!” shouted Adam, who fell backwards into a seated position.

            Doctor Ralph, hearing all of this, drew his own gun and fired several rounds towards the restaurant without looking. His other hand continued working.

            “Shit, fuck!” shouted Mimi as she threw herself against the far wall to avoid the ricocheting bullets bouncing off the counter. “You know you can’t get out of here, right?” she shouted. “More cops are on the way and unless you’re planning on killing the whole precinct, you’ll never get away.”

            Doctor Ralph laid his gun on the counter and kept working on the sandwich.

            Back on the floor out front, Walter had rolled over and looked at Adam. “You okay, mate?”

            Adam, dabbing his fingers to his nose and checking for blood, said, “Yeah. I’m good. What happened to you?”

            Walter sat up and said, “Got shot. But I think I’m getting better.”

            “Better? How?” asked Adam.

            Walter reached up and grabbed the lower lip of the counter. He gave it a pull and a twist and the metal warped under his hand. He yanked hard and a chunk of it came off altogether. “I had a little something to eat,” he said, smiling. “Now…you wanna be a hero?”

            Adam smiled and said, “Fuck yeah. What do we do?”

            Mimi, from her position of safety, heard the sirens approaching. “You hear that?” she called out. “This is gonna turn into a hostage situation in about sixty seconds.”

            In the kitchen, Doctor Ralph picked up his gun and turned to face the restaurant. He held the gun casually, but kept it aimed at the room in front of him. With his other hand, he ate his sandwich.

            “They’re gonna surround this place,” said Mimi, “and then they’re gonna start calling the land line. They’re gonna want to talk to you. They’re gonna ask you to release at least one of us, probably the one you shot…you know you shot a guy? That’s not gonna buy you any favors, you know.”

            Doctor Ralph finished his sandwich and began walking forward, licking his fingers.

            In front of the counter, Walter nodded at Adam, who took a deep breath and held it.

            Mimi said, “How about you just give it up now? Save us all a lot of trouble?”

            Doctor Ralph reached the corner where Mimi was hiding. She was still sitting with her back to the wall and hadn’t heard him approach. Leveling his gun at her head, he said, “No, my dear Detective, I believe I’ll let the fine civil servants of this city take me out of here.”

            Walter saw the top of Doctor Ralph’s head over the counter and shouted “NOW!”

            He got to his feet, lifting the entire counter in his left hand as he rose and shoved it towards Doctor Ralph. Adam, teeth gritting, ran around the far side of the counter towards the kitchen. With the end of the counter now blocking him from Mimi and Walter, Doctor Ralph turned towards the open side but Adam tackled him and drove him to the ground.

            Walter picked up Mimi in his one good arm (his right arm hung dead at his side from the shoulder wound) and ran straight through glass walls of the restaurant and into the parking lot.

            Doctor Ralph wrestled with Adam for a moment, fighting to get control of his gun, and when Adam heard the hammer cock back, he froze for a moment.

            “That was very stupid,” said Doctor Ralph.

            Adam locked eyes with him, and said, “Boom, motherfucker.”

            He relaxed.

            He exploded.

Super Meals: Part Forty Four

            Doctor Ralph barreled through the door of the restaurant. A teenaged boy with visibly pulsing zits from behind the register started to say, “Hello, and welcome to –” but Doctor Ralph was around the counter before he could finish, headed for the back office.

            The manager, this time an elderly-looking gentleman who had clipped a bowtie to his uniform (which was, strictly speaking, against the dress code, but since nobody ever came to inspect this branch, nobody had ever noticed), attempted to greet Doctor Ralph, saying, “Well I just gotta say what an honor it is to finally have someone from corporate here in our little store.” He stuck out a hand while scuttling along in Doctor Ralph’s wake, and was ignored. At the back of the restaurant the hallway came to a T and Doctor Ralph paused.

            Every branch of the restaurant was built according to one of eight layouts. It had been corporate policy for a decade and the layouts were designed by a team of efficiency experts to get the most usable workspace out of various square footages with minimal consideration given to employee comfort and safety. The plans definitely worked, as productivity was 4% higher in the new stores than in the old ones, and the incorporation of safety signs into the designs saved on lawsuits (instead of artwork or inspirational posters, every restaurant had “Caution, Wet Floor” and “Danger: HOT!” signs framed and hung so no employee could ever file a lawsuit for injuries because, with the signs there, they were considered properly warned).

            This particular franchise, however, was twelve years old.

            Doctor Ralph didn’t know where to go.

            Rolling his eyes and whispering a curse in his mind, he turned to the store manager and said, “And what a pleasure it is for me as well! You know, we’ve been watching your numbers for quite some time, and the big guys up at the top sure are impressed, which is why they sent me today!”

            “R-really?” asked the manager. “I mean, I-I…well, we didn’t know you were coming, is all, and…” He looked Doctor Ralph up and down and finally took in his appearance.

            His white lab coat was coated in dirt and brick dust, and spattered in blood. It was torn in several places, and his pants (a pair of black slacks that cost more than the manager earned in four months) were similarly ripped. He hadn’t taken his right hand out of his pocket yet (because he was using it to hold his remaining gun under his coat), but his left hand was a mix of cuts, scrapes, and road rash. His hair was askew and there were several bruises starting to turn purple on his face and forehead.

            Doctor Ralph noticed the man taking this all in and cut him off before he could ask any questions.

            “Now then,” he said as he put his left hand on the manager’s shoulder and turning him back towards the front of the restaurant. “I’m gonna need a few things from you, mister...”

            “Taurus,” finished the manager. “But you can call me Mike.”

            “Mike,” said Doctor Ralph, “I’m just here to check in and let the big guys up top know that I made it, so I need you to help me find a couple of things and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

            “You-you aren’t here for an inspection?”

            “I am, Mike, yes. But we want to get a good idea of how things are ‘on the ground,’ so to speak. I’m going to dive right in and actually work the floor, like everybody else, because we believe in the power of our employees – from the very top, to every level in the organization.”

            “Oh! Well, gee, sir, that’s just dandy! We’d love to show you some of what we’ve been working on right here in our little store, so if you’d like…”

            There was a commotion at the front of the store and both men looked up to see several of the employees backing away from the counter. Someone was shouting at the kid working the register about an order – something about a secret menu – but Doctor Ralph tightened his grip on Mike’s shoulder, stopping him.

            “I’m gonna have to cut you off right there, Mike.” Doctor Ralph steered Mike back towards the rear of the store. “See, we like our inspections to be spontaneous, so I’m gonna need you to get me a uniform out of your stash of backups, and I will just drop in at some point in the next few days.” They’d reached the T junction again at the back wall of the store and Doctor Ralph waited for Mike to point him in the right direction.

            “So which way do we go, Mike?”

            Mimi and Walter walked towards the restaurant, with Adam following.

            “Wait here!” said Mimi.

            “For what?” asked Adam. “I burn shit, remember? What do you want me to do, hang out and melt an ambulance?”

            “Can’t you just…I dunno, turn it down?” asked Walter.

            “Right, like I know how this shit works,” said Adam.

            “Well, you look like Officer Hobo just getting out of the shower,” said Mimi, “So you can’t come in with us.”

            “The fuck do you expect me to do, then?!”

            Mimi said nothing for several steps, then, just as she was opening her mouth to respond, Walter spoke up with “Go around back and watch the door in case he tries to get away.”

            “What, by the dumpster?”

            Mimi and Walter shared a look, and Mimi caught on. “Yes, by the dumpster,” she said.

            “But it stinks back there!”

            They had reached the sidewalk that went in front of the restaurant, and Mimi stopped up short, causing Adam to bump into her and Walter (who had taken several steps past before realizing she’d stopped) to have to jog back.

            “Look, you can’t control…this. This thing. This power. Whatever. But you can’t control it and you look like shit. So go stand at the back door where nobody will see you, nobody will smell you, and if you blow anything up you’ll do the least amount of property damage, all right?”

            Adam wanted to retort, but couldn’t think of anything, so he shook his head and walked to the back of the restaurant. When he got there he found several half-smoked cigarettes and a pair of plastic deck chairs around an ashtray. He sat down, felt the chair start to collapse and melt underneath him, then stood back up and started looking through the discarded cigarettes. There was half a pack stashed behind the lock on the dumpster, so he took one out and put it in his mouth. He started to look for a lighter, then paused…

            Checking to see if anybody was around, he took the cigarette back out of his mouth and pinched the end with his fingertips. He concentrated, hard, trying to will heat into his fingertips, but it just wasn’t happening.

            Frustrated, he sighed and released the tension.

            The end of the cigarette glowed to life.

            Back around the building at the front door, Walter and Mimi were talking.

            “So what do we do?” asked Walter.

            “We go in there and arrest him. If he tries to get out, hopefully Adam will slow him down.”

            “What do you want me to do?”

            “Stop any bullets he shoots at me.”

            “Fuck you!”

            “What do you want me to say? I’m not bulletproof and you’re not a cop, so you’re lucky I’m even letting you tag along!”

            “Well…Fine!”

            Walter had hoped he could say something cooler than that, but nothing occurred to him. He yanked the door open and shoved his way to the counter. Several other patrons started complaining immediately, but Mimi waved her badge around once and everybody fell silent. When he got to the register, the teenager said “Welcome to—” but Walter waved him off.

            “Skip it, kid. Just gimme a Suicidal Rodeo Clown.”

            “A what?”

            “Suicidal Rodeo Clown? The burger?”

            “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have anything like that on the menu. You can find our specials on the board behind me.” The kid gestured above and behind him towards the menus.

            “No, dumbass!” shouted Walter. “That’s not what I want to order!”

Mimi nudged him and whispered “Hurry up!”

Walter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, then lowered his voice again. “Sorry, but…look, do you have a secret menu?”

The kid behind the counter looked terrified, and several of the other employees had started doing a nervous shuffle – meandering back and forth to look busy but not actually going anywhere because they didn’t want to miss the show. The kid swallowed hard and said, “Look, dude, I’ve only been here two weeks. Please just order off the board, I don’t know anything about a secret menu and the buttons are just here on the screen.”

“Fine,” said Walter. “Gimme a…” His mind raced as he tried to think of something that would be useful in this situation.

Then he remembered.

“Gimme a cheeseburger cheerful meal with a cola. Sub mustard instead of ketchup.”

            The kid behind the counter punched in the order and the line cooks behind him started putting it together, but kept watch at the front of the store in case something exciting happened. “That’ll be $4.85,” said the order-taker. Walter slid a five-dollar bill across the counter and popped the change into the donation bucket next to the register.

            Then they waited.

            Adam finished his cigarette and started another. As he paced the back patio near the dumpster he noticed a peephole in the back door of the restaurant. They’d been installed so employees could see who was ringing the doorbell and buzz them in as well as make sure there weren’t people loitering near the dumpster when they took the trash out, lest someone sneak in and rob the place.

            Like the vast majority of the human race, when he saw the peephole he went over and looked into it. As he leaned in and peered, one of his hands came to rest on the doorknob.

            When he discovered that the peephole, like all peepholes, was only one-way (and, thus, he couldn’t see inside), he pushed himself away from the door and went back to pacing the trash area.

            He didn’t notice the half-melted doorknob.

            Doctor Ralph exited the storage closet and immediately went to the bathroom, where he cleaned himself up as best he could. The bruising was leading to swelling, but he was able to wash off the blood and dirt and dust and wet his hair down to give it some semblance of order, and when he was finished he could honestly say he didn’t look worse than anybody else working at the restaurant.

            He’d get Mike’s keys and borrow his car (or “borrow” his car, whichever it needed to be) and go to the airport and buy a plane ticket to Indiana. Next to gate B7 was an amenities center with lockers. Locker number 33039 contained a wallet with an ID, matching credit card, and $200 cash. He could use that to get a plane ticket back to Chicago, and once he was safely ensconced in the corporate offices and laboratories of the fast food chain, he’d be untouchable.

            He shifted the gun in his pocket, trying to make it as nondescript as possible, then exited the bathroom. Mike was waiting and opened his mouth to speak, but Doctor Ralph cut him off, saying, “Mike, I’m gonna need just one more favor from you.”

            “Oh!” said Mike. “S-sure! Um, I hope you don’t think too poorly of us for that little outburst earlier. I’m sure you guys know that even the best restaurants sometimes get unruly customers.” He chuckled, but stopped almost immediately when Doctor Ralph failed to chuckle with him. “So, uh, what was it you needed, sir?”

            “I’m gonna need your keys, Mike.” Doctor Ralph started walking back towards the front of the restaurant, one arm around Mike, pulling him along. “See, I got a ride here from the app on my phone but, wouldn’t you know it, the dang battery’s dead. So I’m gonna need to borrow…”

            He trailed off as they came into view of the front of the restaurant.

            Walter and Mimi were standing at the counter.

            They were looking to the side, not forward, so they didn’t see him.

            One of the line cooks walked to the counter with a flimsy Technicolor cardboard box and dropped it in front of the pair. Doctor Ralph heard the worker say, “Here you go, one cheeseburger cheerful meal, sub mustard.” Walter looked up as his order was delivered.

            And locked eyes with Doctor Ralph.

            Without looking away, Doctor Ralph said, “Gimme your keys, Mike”

            “I-I-I’m sorry, sir?”

            Walter kept his eyes locked on Doctor Ralph as well as he said, “Mimi?”

            “What?” she said.

            “Get ready.”

            Mimi looked up and followed Walter’s gaze.

Doctor Ralph said, “Mike, gimme your goddamned keys. Now.”

            “I beg your pardon!?” said Mike.

            Doctor Ralph took the gun out of his pocket, holding it slightly in front of him to ensure Mike saw it, but hoped it was still out of sight of Walter and Mimi. “Give. Me. Your. Keys.”

            “But…but…but sir? I-I-I don’t drive. I take the bus.”

            Mimi reached for her gun.

            Doctor Ralph said, “Fuck” and raised his own.

            Walter shoved Mimi out of the way as Doctor Ralph pulled the trigger. He fired three shots and didn’t wait to see where they landed, he just spun and ran for the back door of the restaurant.

            The impact knocked Walter to the floor and the restaurant exploded into chaos. People screamed and ran, some took out cell phones and started recording, others took out cell phones and called 911.

            Mimi popped up and grabbed Walter’s shoulder to haul him upright and he screamed. She recoiled from him and saw her hand coated in blood.

            “I don’t think I’m bulletproof anymore,” said Walter.

Super Meals: Part Forty Three

            To be fair, the fast food place was only six blocks away.

            So, really, the fact that Adam made it five blocks before exploding shouldn’t be held against him.

            He held it together for the four blocks between the ruins of the morgue to the main street that ran north-to-south through town, and kept his cool as the parade of emergency vehicles screamed down the street in the opposite direction, but, it had to be said, in the end it was Doctor Ralph’s fault.

            Once they had pulled away from the morgue (or rather, the crater where it once stood), he lowered the weapon and stuffed the barrel into Adam’s ribs to keep it unseen. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to drive carefully, do I?” he asked.

            Adam was afraid to take his eyes off the road, so he said, “Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say,” and kept his hands on the wheel. He wanted a smoke, but didn’t dare speak or reach for them, so as he drove, his anxiety mounted.

            And his temperature rose.

            His heart rate shot up when the emergency vehicles passed him, and he began to smell the vinyl of the seat melting underneath him again. Doctor Ralph must have smelled it, too, because he sniffed the air and asked, “What’s burning?”

            “Nothing, man. I don’t know.”

            “Look, I’m typically very calm, but having just survived an explosion, I’m a bit rattled at the moment,” said Doctor Ralph, digging the shotgun barrel further into Adam’s side. “So, seriously, where’s the burning smell coming from? I can see the oil and temperature gauges, so don’t tell me it’s the car.”

            “I don’t know, dude. Seriously. Why would I lie? If something’s burning or gonna blow up, I’m fucked just as much as you are.”

            That caught Doctor Ralph’s attention. “Blow up?” he asked. He raised the shotgun to where Adam could see it again and continued, “Why would something blow up?”

            It wasn’t that Adam was particularly scared of guns; he’d shot with friends and family at local ranges and had taken hunter safety classes before trekking through the woods with his grandfather, but he’d never had one pointed at him before.

            He was nervous.

            In all seriousness, he was scared.

            Steam started rising off of his body, and the steering wheel was molding itself to his fingers as he gripped the wheel.

            He turned and looked at Doctor Ralph, his jaw set and his eyes hard. Leaving one hand on the wheel, he reached out with the other and grabbed the end of the shotgun barrel, which melted closed in his hand. Doctor Ralph looked at the ruined shotgun, then back up at Adam, who said, “Why shouldn’t I?”

            Back at the bombed out morgue the sounds of sirens almost covered the sound of shifting rubble.

            Bricks and drywall and assorted materials gave way to Walter, who was hunched over and coughing up dust. As he shoved things aside, two pairs of legs became visible and started kicking things aside. “Well I certainly wasn’t expecting that,” said Walter.

            “Really? What were you expecting?” said Mimi.

            “I dunno,” said Walter. “But, really, who ever expects to get blown up?”

            “I expect to get shot every day,” said Mimi.

            “You do?”

            “Yeah. I just set my mind to it when I get up in the morning. That way, if I do get shot, it’s not really a surprise. If I don’t, then it’s a happy accident and my day is that much better.”

            “You are fucking crazy!” said Jane. “Do you know what you’ve done!?”

            “I think we saved your life,” said Walter. “You are alive, right?”

            “Yes!” said Jane. “No thanks to you two!”

            “Really?” asked Mimi. “You think Doctor Quinlan there was going to let you go once he got ahold of Walter here?”

            “You know who he is?” asked Jane.

            “Yeah, I’m a detective, remember? And I’m good at my job,” said Mimi, smiling. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

            Mimi and Walter stood, but had to help Jane stand up because her legs had gone numb from being trapped in the chair for so long without moving. The ambulances and fire trucks and police cruisers had arrived, and emergency personnel swarmed them as they clambered towards the street. Everybody was shouting and racing around and calling out questions, but neither Walter, nor Mimi, nor Jane were saying anything.

            Five blocks away, a fireball arose over the rooftops, and a second later everybody heard the boom.

            Mimi and Walter looked at each other and they both said, “Adam.”

            Adam was actually proud of himself for sounding cool with that line, but also a little bummed that nobody else had heard it (he knew that it never sounded as good in the retelling). Still gripping the shotgun, he concentrated, hard, and tensed, thinking to explode but only growing hotter.

            Doctor Ralph had released the shotgun and was scrambling with the door handle, but the car had auto-locked while they were driving.

            Adam, growing frustrated, tightened up further; clenching every muscle he could think of. He felt the seat ignite into flame underneath and around him, and the felt in the ceiling above his head was smoldering, dripping onto him. His clothes were either burning or melting off already, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to hurt this man who had shoved a gun on him.

            Doctor Ralph finally got the door unlocked and yanked on the handle, but the sight of the ground going by gave him pause.

            The fact that his seatbelt was still buckled gave him further pause.

            He and Adam both reached for the belt buckle at the same time, and Adam got there first. Doctor Ralph’s hands closed on top of Adam’s, hoping to somehow push the button through them, but he hissed in pain and immediately pulled them away from the burn.

            But the buckle had melted in Adam’s hand, along with the ends of the webbing, separating them and flapping loose, which was all the freedom Doctor Ralph needed to tuck and roll out of the car.

            Disappointed in himself for letting Doctor Ralph get away, Adam both sighed and groaned while releasing all the tension in his body like a deflated balloon.

            That’s when he exploded.

            Mimi and Walter helped Jane to an ambulance as quickly as they could and sat her on the bumper. One pair of EMTs set to work on her while another pair each took to Walter and Mimi, who tried to wave them off.

            “I’m fine,” said Walter. “Take care of this lady, she’s the one who’s hurt.”        “Same goes for me,” said Mimi. “Just get her checked out, will you?” When their paramedics stepped away, Mimi squatted down to be eye level with Jane. “Jane, we have to go.”

            “Wait, what? You… I mean… Where?”

            “We have to stop him.”

            “Why?”

            “Because we know, Jane. And we’re the only ones who do. If he is who we think he is, if he gets out of town he’ll hide behind so many lawyers we’ll never reach him again.”

            “So what are you gonna do? Kill him?”

            “What? God no, I’m a cop, remember? I don’t do that sort of thing.”

            “Then what?”

            “Darling, I’m going to arrest him.”

            “But how?”

            “With his help,” said Mimi, motioning to Walter.

            Jane looked up at Walter, who smiled. She said, “You protect her, got it?”

            Walter’s smile faded. “What do you mean, me protect her?”

            “Yeah,” said Mimi. “What’s with that bullshit? I’ve been watching his ass for two days now.”

            Jane said, “Yeah, but I don’t care if he never comes back to me.”

            Mimi and Jane shared a look that certainly felt much longer than the handful of seconds it really was, then Mimi said, “All right.”

            “We’ll talk,” said Jane.

            “All right,” said Mimi, standing up. She looked at Walter and punched him in the shoulder, saying, “You ready to do this?”

            “I have no idea,” said Walter.

            “Great,” said Mimi. “Let’s go.”

            She grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him away from the ambulance towards one of the police cruisers. They climbed in and Mimi floored it.

            Doctor Ralph had hit the ground rolling. As per his instructions, Adam was driving carefully, so he was only going about thirty miles an hour, but the impact still hurt, and the roll provided some bumps, bruises, and scrapes.

            The car exploding, however, hurt much worse.

            Doctor Ralph was blasted aside and up onto the sidewalk. He’d thought to cover his head with his hands, and the rain of glass made him thankful for having done so. He stood up, slowly, and he ached all over.

            But there, a block away, like a beacon through a fog, was his restaurant.

            He still had his AR-7, it had rolled with him when he fell out of the car, and while his clothes were tattered, he still had enough of a lab coat left to hide the gun as he started limping forwards. Every branch was required, by corporate policy, to maintain a stock of uniforms on hand, so while he wouldn’t be stylish (or even necessarily comfortable), he would be in fresh, clean clothes. He could also use their computer to access his cloud drive, transfer his files, and wipe his tablet computer remotely. He hated to do it, but he could get another tablet when he was safely home and ensconced in his laboratory once again. The information was more important, and he couldn’t risk anybody else finding his…recipes.

            He paused.

            For an instant, the thought crossed his mind of maybe trying one of them out on himself, but he shook the thought out of his head almost immediately. Nobody had ever survived, except subject 187, of course.

            But who was the man who just exploded?

            And that was when Doctor Ralph remembered Adam’s face from the day before.

            The man who’d delivered Doctor Ralph’s rental car.

            The man he’d sent the special meal to.

            The man who’d just blown up a second time, apparently, and was, as far as he could tell, burning to death in a molten heap of metal and rubber in the middle of the street a block behind him.

            So maybe his meals didn’t kill quite everyone, he thought, as he pushed open the glass doors to the restaurant and immediately went to the back.

            Mimi and Walter roared through the intersections. They’d turned on the lights of the police cruiser, but not the siren.

            They didn’t want to let Doctor Ralph know they were coming for him.

            They reached the remains of Mimi’s car and she whipped the car sideways, screeching to a stop. “You think he –” she started to ask.

            “Look!” shouted Walter.

            He was pointing forward, through the windshield, and Mimi’s eyes tracked his finger to see movement within the still-flaming frame of a car. They both leaped from their seats and ran over to it as close as they could stand the heat, and watched as Adam muscled the car door (or rather, what was left of it) open, and climbed out.

            Mimi ran back to the squad car and popped the trunk, finding a police coat and woolen blanket and grabbing them. She returned to the wreckage and handed the goods over to Adam, who wrapped the blanket around his waist like a towel before putting the coat on. Finally, he said, “Ah, fuck me.”

            “What?” asked Walter.

            “My smokes were in there,” said Adam.

            Mimi slapped her face into her palm and Walter groaned. Mimi recovered, though, and asked, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

            “Well I fuckin’ hope so,” said Adam. “Or this town is way fucking weirder than I thought it was to have multiple psychos running around.”

            “Did you see where he went to?”

            Adam pointed to the restaurant on the corner and said, “Where the fuck do you think he went?”