Long Hot Summer 7: Flash Back

by Nicholas Ahlhelm

Images swirled around Jack Flash’s head. It seemed as though the whole world moved around him in shifting vectors of light and sound. The motion would have made him sick, but he wasn’t even sure if he had a stomach anymore. He couldn’t be sure if it lasted for an eternity or just a few brief moments.

The agony stopped as the spinning suddenly stopped. Jack stood in the middle of a town square. He recognized the great hammer statue in front of him, the same statue that stood in front of Valhalla city hall. But the city hall was little more than a loose frame work of wood. He scanned the area around him and saw nothing but half-finished buildings and vast empty plains. A few builders dotted the area, but none seemed to be working with any equipment he was used to seeing.

“What is going on?”

“Hello, stranger. Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before. Are you up from New Salem or just new in the area?”

Jack started to answer, but stumbled when he locked eyes with the other man. Though young, in his early twenties at best, the man had one of the most recognizable faces on the planet. He stood face to face with Frank Carson, better known as the American Hero.

He’s so young, Jack thought. And he’s still wearing street clothes. He gave up all semblance of an alternate identity in the early forties. Which means I’m sometime before that.

He searched his memories for what he knew on the history of Valhalla. The city first formed in the late twenties around a group of engineers, researchers, and architects, all obsessed with building the city of the future. They stumbled at the end of the decade when the Depression began. The project ground to a halt. When FDR took office, they quickly received thousands of new workers (and residents) as well as the money needed to finish the first wave of their project. They also gained a huge draw thanks to one very important group. The Carson Cadre formed around the young Frank Carson. With the advent of the pulps they soon became a household name.

“You all right there, fella? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jack stuttered as he searched for something to say in return. “Uh, I’m sorry, Mister Carson. It’s just an honor to meet you.”

“Me? I’m just a man that knows how to get things done. I’m barely any help to half the folks here, but I can at least draw some attention for our project.”

Jack nodded. “It’s still an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve read about you and saw you on the television and—”

“The what now?”

“I mean, on the screen at the movies. Some people back home call it the television.”

Got to be careful what I say. If I’m really in the thirties, I could give away a lot with just a few words.

“Well what brings you to our city?”

“I just wanted to take a look and see what’s going on here. It sure is amazing.”

“That it is. Someday it will be the biggest, most beautiful city in the entire world. But right now it’s still a dream. Still we’re keeping thousands of people working full time through the Roosevelt’s PWA. Even without all the grand vision, it’s something worth doing.”

“I guess so. I never thought of it that way. But that’s why you’re the genius.”

“I may have lots of book smarts, but I’m far from the wisest man on this project. Thank you for the compliment though, mister—”

Jack said nothing, unsure of how to respond. His brain struggled for a name, any name, that wasn’t his own.

A hand grabbed him by the elbow. “Mister Jackson can be a nervous sort sometimes, Frank. Can’t you, Jack?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jack turned to look at the woman behind him. She wore a pair of dress pants and an old-fashioned blouse, though he supposed it wasn’t so old-fashioned for the time. Her features were dark, Hispanic or mixed race in origin, though Jack figured she could pass as Caucasian under most circumstances. A pair of coke bottle glasses covered her eyes.

“Well, Ms. Chapel, we can’t all be as quick of the tongue as you.”

She nodded. “Or yourself, Frank. Now if you will excuse me, my friend and I have a few things to discuss before he returns home.”

“Of course, Frank said.” He offered his hand to Jack.

After a brief moment of just staring at it in awe, Jack shook the other man’s hand. With a nod, Frank turned and walked away.

The woman, Ms. Chapel, pulled him roughly out of the center of the streets. In hushed tones, she said, “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“What? I don’t even—”

“Are you trying to unravel the whole damn timestream? You’re already sending out time tremors just being here. The wrong conversation and you could cause a massive space-time ripple.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t— I mean—”

She shook her head. “You’re a lost one, aren’t you? I’m not used to finding one so powerful.”

She brought him in to one of the tents placed on an empty foundation. Inside was just a pair of cots, each with a trunk underneath them, and one of those tall changing screen like they always had in old movies. She walked past the changing screen and sat down on the nearer of the two cots.

Her body immediately slumped down. Her head fell to the cot. A fine layer of mist rose from her body. In only a matter of seconds, the mist formed a vaguely human shape.

The mist turned suddenly solid. A dark haired man in a brown long coat, shirt, and bow tie stood in place of the mist. He took a moment to straighten his tie before he turned to Jack.

“Sorry about that,” the man said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had to go full human.”

“What are you? Who are you?”

“I go by many names. It’s not the one I usually use at this time, but since we’re going to meet again soon enough, I’ll stick to one for the sake of continuity. You can call me Doctor Cosmic.”

“What do you know about me? What do you want with me?”

“I know that you’re lost in time, and it’s going to take some doing to get you back where you came from. Early twenty-first somewhere, isn’t it? 2009, maybe?”

“Uh, 2010, actually. How did you know that?”

“You have time ripples coming off you. Strong ones too. I’ve had enough experience that I can usually narrow them down pretty close. Are you metahuman?”

“I used to be. But my powers—I lost them a few months back. I’m just a normal guy now.”

Doctor Cosmic shook his head. “Far from it, Jack. Far from it.”

“You know my name?”

“I can read you like an open book. It’s just a matter of attuning to your frequencies.” He studied Jack for a moment. “Do you have flame-based abilities?”

Jack nodded. “Or at least I did.”

“You still possess them. Let me help you.” Doctor Cosmic drove his palm hard in to Jack’s forehead.

“Ow!” Jack rubbed the site of the sudden jab. He felt his skin grow warm at the touch. He pulled his hand away from his forehead just moments before his fingers burst in to flames.

“How—I don’t understand. They were gone. My powers were gone.”

“They were dormant, yes. But you clearly have a flame that burns much hotter than you believe.”

Jack studied his burning hand. He held up his other hand. With just a thought, it too burst in to flames. After months with barely a flicker, the flames were back.

“My powers! I have my powers again!”

“Indeed.” Doctor Cosmic studied him. “Now I think it would be best if you told me how it is you came to be here.”

Jack let the flames around his hands die down. “I’m still not really sure. It started with an attack.”

Doctor Cosmic listened closely as Jack recounted the story of the attack at Aesir Park. After Jack finished the tale, Doctor Cosmic studied Jack’s face.

“Your powers aren’t as simple as they seem. While they appear to be simple flames, they actually exist in a trans-temporal state. If you unleash enough of your fire, you can use it to literally push yourself through time.”

Jack looked at the strange man in front of him. He couldn’t quite comprehend what Doctor Cosmic was saying.

“Are you—are you saying I can travel through time?”

“I’m saying that you already have. When you were attacked in the city, your powers activated and you jumped backwards through time. I can’t say what drew you here, but time travel is often fraught with strange happenstance. Things often seem to fall in to place in strange and often convenient ways.”

“I can travel through time?”

Doctor Cosmic shook his head. “Sometimes you humans can have such puny, short-sighted minds.”

“I can time travel?”

“Yes, you can.”

Jack’s head hurt. No matter how many times he said it, it seemed like it couldn’t be true. Time travel is something out of science fiction. No one can really do it.

Despite Jack’s doubts, Doctor Cosmic continued to explain the links between time travel and Jack’s powers. “If you channel your flames directly across your skin in sufficient amounts, you should be able to separate yourself from the timestream again. If you concentrate on your own timeline, your jump should take you in that direction. I can’t tell you how precise it might be, but repeated jumps should get you where you need to be.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Have you been listening, Jack?”

“Yeah, it’s just a little hard to believe. Time travel?”

“You are in the nineteen thirties now. Have you always lived in the thirties?”

“Well, no, but—”

“You shouldn’t have any problems believing in time travel. You have already done it once. Now we need to get you on your way before you create any more ripples. Remember to keep any interference or activity in any other time periods to a minimum until you return to your base time.”

“Got it, I guess.”

“Good, concentrate on your flames. Summon them over your entire form.”

Jack did as he was told. Massive plumes of flame rose off his body as he summoned the fire all around him. It consumed his body even as it licked out across the rest of the room.

“Focus it in! Focus it in!”

Jack closed his eyes and pulled the fire in closer to his body. He felt his skin grow hot.

“Send your mind out to your world! Send it out to your future!”

“I feel it. I feel it! I feel—”

Jack disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

*****

“What is this place?”

Nightbird glared at Lance. “I told you to trust me. I know you’re not used to walking downtown during the day, but we’re fine.”

She opened the door of one of the many non-descript office buildings that seemed to line this block of downtown Valhalla. Despite the low lighting, she kept her dark glasses on. She walked across the lobby to the large front desk.

A disinterested woman raised her head from her computer solitaire game and looked at her. “Can I help you?”

“Ms. Bird for Argonauts, Inc. I have an appointment.”

The receptionist closed her solitaire window and looked at the on-screen schedule. “Yeah, they’re expecting you. Third elevator back. Make sure it’s the third. It’s the only one that goes up.”

She handed Nightbird two passes. Nightbird handed one to Lance as they walked to the elevators.

“What is this?” Lance said. “I’m trying to be patient, but my patience is wearing out.”

“The Argonauts are the local goody-two-shoes. But one of them agreed to help us.”

She pressed the button for the third elevator. It immediately opened.  They both got aboard. The inside panel offered only one button. Nightbird pressed it.

“These are heroes? In my day we fought crime. We weren’t some kind of corporation.”

“Things have changed in sixty years.”

“Maybe a little too much.”

“You should be excited really. The woman we’re going to meet has been around since your days. Though she was a criminal back then.”

“Reformed?”

“For decades.”

The elevator door opened. They stepped in to another lobby. Photographs of various super-battles lined the walls around them. Nightbird started down towards the doors at the end of the room. Lance followed her until she stopped in front of a posed photo of four supers.

“This is the team,” she said. “The Argonauts.” She pointed to the man in the center of the picture. He wore a gold and silver suit of armor. “That’s Jason Schulz, Carapace. He formed and leads the team. The big Samoan guy over his right shoulder is Herc Anoia. He claims to be a descendant of the mythological Hercules complete with a need to complete twelve trials. The Inuit girl with the white hair is named Snowblind. She used to date Herc when he was active up north and followed him down to the main forty-eight.”

She pointed to the fourth and final figure in the picture. The woman was an attractive blonde in an abbreviated costume. Her costume consisted of little more than strips of cloth over her chest and waist, a pair of knee-high boots, and a long billowing cloak. “That’s who we are here to see, the Witch.”

“The Witch? She’s a monster!”

“She was a criminal back in the day, but she’s been reformed for years. She fought Mighty Man a few times back in the forties but she eventually switched sides when she decided she wanted to date Mighty Man more than she wanted to fight him.”

Lance shook his head. Every time he thought he had an idea about this new “modern” world, he learned something like this.

“I don’t like it. I’ve had an unpleasant history with magic-users. What is it this one can do for us?”

“I was wondering the exact same thing.”

The words came from a spiral of lights in the middle of the room. As the lights faded, a blond haired woman in a tight, black business suit appeared. “I’m Hester Corning, but I would prefer if you called me Witch.”

Nightbird walked over to the other woman and shook her hand. Lance just looked at them both. He couldn’t fathom what this evil harlot could do to help them.

“It’s been a long time, Be—” A look from Nightbird cut Witch off. “—Nightbird. What brings you to Argonauts Inc.? Are you ready to join?”

“No, my friend and I have to ask a favor.”

“I told you last time I would help you out if you needed anything. After the time we had together, I would do pretty much anything for you.” Her hand came up to cup Nightbird’s cheek.

Lance just looked on in confusion. He didn’t even want to contemplate the history between the two women.

Nightbird pulled away from Witch and walked over to Lance. She grabbed him by the arm and brought him back over to Witch.

“This is Lance. He’s a meta too.”

“Lance Larter. I heard you came through with the other Living Legends but no one’s heard of you for a few years.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Witch nodded. She turned back to Nightbird. “What can I do for you both?”

“We need a glamour.”

“A glamour? I haven’t produced a glamour in decades. I used to be able to cast one in seconds, but it’s been far too long for me to do one with much confidence.”

“It’s important. We need to go undercover. We need to cover our current look and we need protections from magic.”

“How long do you need it to last?”

“I would say at least three weeks.”

Witch nodded as she thought for a moment. “I can probably do it, but it will take some time. I’m out of practice with glamours. And if I have to infuse protections, it will take even longer. I’ll need at least four days to get it done.”

Nightbird looked to Lance. Lance grimaced. Another four days seemed so long after all the time he wasted already.

“Well, are you game?”

Lance shrugged. “I don’t have much choice anymore. I need in.”

“You still got my number, Witch?”

“I’ll call you when it’s ready. I’ll need a snippet of hair from each of you before you go.”

Nightbird yanked a few hairs from the side of her head. Lance watched her put it in Witch’s hand. He summoned Caliburn to his hand. He raised it to the side of his hair, but stopped.

“What is it?”

“One thing Merlin always taught me was never give something personal to a witch.”

“Do you want in or not?”

Lance glared at Nightbird. He used Caliburn to cut off a bit of his shaggy hair. He handed it to the Witch.

“Four days?”

“Four days,” Witch said. She turned to Nightbird. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

With a flourish of light, Witch disappeared from the room. Her disembodied voice echoed through the room. “You can see yourself out.”

The elevator door dinged. A moment later it opened for them.

“You’re sure we can trust this Witch?”

“I know her, Lance. We’ll be all right.”

“I hope you’re right. I have enough problems with the zealots without also having to fight her.”

She walked in to the elevator. Lance followed her in.

“It will be all right, Lance. Next time this week, we’re in.”

“We’re in,” Lance said. He only wished he could have the confidence she seemed to have.

*****

Freedom awoke in a strange bed in a vaguely familiar room. He let out a low moan as he rolled over. Bandages covered much of his chest and back. The damage done by Misery was healing but he still felt like he had been in the middle of a mule kicking contest.

His bed was little more than a cot in the corner of a messy office. Papers sat in piles everywhere. The shelves held a few dozen trophies. Plaques covered the walls. All celebrated a boxing career that stretched almost thirty years.

Freedom stood up and walked to the nearest plaque. “Damn it, man. How did you find me this time?”

“You don’t exactly keep a low profile, Patton. You may like to pretend, but we both know it isn’t true.”

An older man stood in the doorway. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, but his body was still heavily muscled. His hair grayed at his temples but otherwise remained a dark black.

Freedom walked across the room and gave the other man a hug. “Hit, you old bastard! I can always count on you to pull my ass out of the fire.”

Henry “Hit” Higgins shook his head. Freedom first met the old boxer nearly a decade ago, upon his first visit to Valhalla. Back in the forties, Hit supplemented his boxing training with a crime-fighting career as the Pugilist. He retired from the super-set not long after the war ended, when Hero returned to the city. But he would still keep in touch with young heroes by training them in basic combat. Freedom regularly used the moves Hit taught him to this day.

“Not this time, Patton. You can thank your friend Elite this time. He found out you were under that so-called church, so I got in touch with a couple of the locals to find you. The Snakes took a lot of risks to get you out of down there.”

“Hiss really still working the good side?”

“He hasn’t committed a single robbery since you left town last. Apparently somebody listens to you.”

“First time for everything I guess. Where’s Libertad?”

“Annabelle is with my niece Beth. They are going over a few new moves for her repertoire.”

“Beth? She following in the family tradition?”

“Maybe. You will get a chance to meet her later, I’m sure.”

Freedom stretched out. He winced at the pain in his chest. At least a couple ribs still ached, either cracked or broken.

“I don’t care how fast you think you heal, Patton. You need a couple more days rest before you’re any good out on the streets.”

“I’ve fought through worse, but you’re probably right. Broken ribs are a pain in the ass. Right now, I’m more concerned with lunch. You got anything to eat around here?”

Hit gave Freedom a hard slap on the back that shook Freedom’s entire body. “As long as you’ve been asleep I’m sure you’re starving. Let’s get you fed.”