Chapter 6

A Good Samaritan

Sketchy hovered over Normal’s desk, faking illness to get out of work. “Normal, come on, have a heart. I feel like crap.”

Normal didn’t even look up. “Read my lips -- Do I look like I give a damn?”

“Dude, I feel like I'm dying.”

“So, die! Just make sure you finish your rounds. And you better be here tomorrow, or don't bother coming back; I'm shorthanded as it is!”

Sketchy stomped away, pouting until an idea struck him, and he ran back to Normal. “Normal, what about the challenge? You give me a hard route. I finish it under par, and you give me my choice of days off with pay.”

Normal raised an eyebrow. “What's in it for me?”

“You know Miss Muir, that lonely, rich divorcee who runs the flower shop we deliver for on holidays...I'll hook you up.”

Normal’s expression shifted from disbelief to somberness. “Yeah, your Uncle is Ben Grimm from the Fantastic Four.”

“Seriously, I have the inside scoop. What've you got to lose except your virginity? Is it a bet?”

Insulted but intrigued, Normal shook Sketchy’s hand. “Yeah, sure, Sketchy. Get some rest and lock up before you leave.”

Sketchy grinned, victorious. Normal picked up the phone and dialed.

Back at home, preparing to appear on the Internet as Eyes Only, Logan typed on his computer keyboard. Ruth circled his wheelchair, rubbing against his ankles. Max entered, dressed like a grungy runaway. Ruth ran to her.

“Too bad I'm not working vice squad; I could catch a lot of freaks in this outfit.”

Logan offered Max a pill and a paper cup of water. “It's a miniature internal tracking device. With it, I can find you within a hundred yards in a three-mile radius.”

“And you want me to eat that?”

“It'll dissolve in seventy-two hours. How about the shower gel? Did you use it?”

“Yes, I did --” Max extended her arm. “Smells nice. Here, smell --”

Logan leaned forward but stopped himself midway. “No thanks. The gel will leave a transparent residue on your skin. Under special lighting or with these glasses --” he held out a pair of goggles, “-- I'll be able to see the residue on anyone who comes into contact with you.”

Max smiled devilishly. “Really? Now, who's jealous?”

“Max, this is for real. I visited the police database --” Logan began.

“You mean hacked into the police database --” Max interrupted.

“Semantics! Six missing women turned up last night. They claimed they were drugged, kidnapped, and forced to compete in a violent fighting tournament. None of them know what happened but claim to have seen each other at the same place.”

Max picked up Ruth. Logan waved her off. “Leave the cat! You'll leave a residue on the cat. Anyway, I triangulated their last known whereabouts and found a location where someone would likely attack you. If their story is true, you'll be the next victim.”

“Yet me!” Max quipped.

“We want you to get kidnapped -- but we also want you back in one piece.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Yeah, Ruth, Bling, and me.” Logan’s tone softened. “I'll be watching closely.”

Max smirked. “I always wanted a guardian angel.” She flipped her hood over her head, did an about-face, and exited.

The main entrance to Jam Pony was shrouded in darkness. Normal stood at his desk, the office eerily quiet and empty.

Sketchy stumbled in, limping and exhausted. “That’s it, man. I cleared my entire route today, as agreed.”

Normal barely acknowledged him. “Not bad. It took four hours of unpaid overtime to finish, but I finished. That leaves you four hours in the hole for tomorrow.”

“Four hours?” Sketchy collapsed on the floor, spread-eagle style. “It’s those damn flowers. Sixty-five flower deliveries to every rat hole in the city. Who the heck sends flowers to people on Skid Row? And when did we start delivering for the flower shop?”

Normal gathered his belongings, tossing Sketchy the keys to the office. “When I realized I needed to make a good impression on Miss Muir for our upcoming date.”

“Uh-uh, no way. Four hours in the hole. I’ll make it up tomorrow, but I’m getting my day off.”

Normal started to leave but stopped in his tracks. “Oh, Sketchy? If anything is missing in the morning...” Normal's eyes gleamed ominously. “...I’ll have you killed!”

Sketchy lifted his head. “I’m already dead!”

He dropped his head to the floor as Normal exited.

A barren street at night. A pedestrian walked briskly through the barren street in the approaching darkness of the night. She pulled her overcoat tightly around her.

Max strolled casually on the opposite street, looking around and appearing carefree. An alley entrance loomed behind her. A man, clearly a mugger, peeked out. Another man, carrying a knife, stepped out.

Max sensed something was wrong. She stopped, paused for a second, and continued walking. The muggers followed her, their pace quickening. Max made it easy for them by entering a deserted alley.

Midway in the alley, she spun around to confront the muggers. “What do you want?”

Mugger Two flicked out a switchblade. “Give me your money, bitch, or I’ll carve you up.”

Max acted confused. “Huh?”

One Mugger circled behind her, visibly nervous. “I said give me your money!”

Faking helplessness, Max replied, “I’m just a poor, defenseless runaway; I don’t have any money.”

The other Thug approached her. “Look at her; she ain’t got any money. She’s as bad off as we are.”

“If she ain’t got money, she’ll have to find another way to pay up,” the second Mugger leered and said.

Max walked deeper into the alley, muttering to herself, “When are these bozos going to make a move?”

Suddenly, a scuffle erupted behind her. Max spun around to see Mugger One on the ground, out cold. Mugger Two was swinging his knife at a man in a trench coat, who skillfully blocked the attacks with an umbrella. That man was Samaritan Peoples.

Samaritan jabbed Mugger Two in the belly with the umbrella, causing him to drop the knife. He then delivered a swift blow, sending him crashing into a pile of trash cans. Mugger Two scrambled to his feet and ran out of the alley.

Samaritan turned to Max, brushing off his coat. “Miss, are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Max shook her head, trying not to laugh. “They were about to rob me?”

“Yes, miss, they were. Did they take anything?”

“I meant, they were only going to rob me.”

“Miss, are you in shock?”

“No, I’m not. I can’t believe my luck. Of all the people -- I get a couple of common thieves.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came when I did.”

“Huh? Oh yeah. Thanks.”

“You know, I know a decent twenty-four-hour coffee joint up the street. Why don’t we get warmed up, and I can call you a cab?”

Max finally took a good look at Samaritan. He was cute in a creepy way. “Sure, why not? My night ended prematurely, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You never know what the hour may bring.” His smile was coy and devilish, but Max didn’t notice.

Logan watched a computerized screen intensely. Onscreen was a digital map of the city. In the center of the map, a light was blinking.

Bling entered, carrying two cups of coffee. Logan asked him to set one on the computer desk beside him. “Is Max okay?”

Logan rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “Six hours straight of Max walking the streets and me watching this screen -- and still nothing.”

He took a sip of coffee.

“That sounds like a good thing to me.”

“Not as far as Original Cindy’s friend Fiona is concerned.”

Bling nodded in agreement. Ruth trotted into the room and leaped onto Logan’s lap. 

“Looks like Ruth is a little worried about Max -- What about you, Logan?”

“Max can handle her business when she knows what she's up against. What I'm worried about is the unknown.”

The map on the screen continued to blink, each second ticking away like a countdown to an uncertain fate.

Max sat in a booth at a gaudy twenty-four-hour diner. The bright lights glared against the night outside. Across from her, Samaritan, the man who had saved her from the muggers, sipped his coffee and smiled.

"So, what do you do? Scour the streets looking for helpless females to save?" Max asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Samaritan chuckled. "Well, you're partly right," he said, sipping his coffee. "I'm a cop."

Max's eyes widened, and she instinctively leaned back, a hint of distrust in her expression.

Samaritan noticed her reaction and quickly added, "Wait now, I'm not a head-buster. I'm the guy who investigates the head-busters."

Max's lips curled into a devilish smile. "So you mean you're kind of like a bad good guy?"

Samaritan grinned. "Or a good, bad guy. It depends on how you look at it."

He waved the waitress over, and she refilled their cups of coffee. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the greasy aroma of diner food.

"Okay, I have to make a pit stop if I'm going to have another cup of coffee," Max said, standing up.

"It'll be here waiting for you," Samaritan replied, his eyes following her as she walked towards the restroom. Her playful demeanor suggested she was starting to warm up to him.

Once Max disappeared into the restroom, Samaritan glanced around the diner. Satisfied no one was watching, he pulled a small vial of black powder from his sleeve. He sprinkled it into Max's drink and stirred it quickly.

Max returned, her mood light and playful. "I need to get going," she said, sliding back into the booth.

"What's the rush? It'll be light in a few hours," Samaritan said, his tone casual.

"Somebody's going to be pretty pissed at me," Max replied, though there was a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"Why don't you finish your coffee while I order some stale biscotti to go with it?" Samaritan suggested with a charming smile.

Max laughed like a little girl, the sound incongruous with the dangerous situation she was unknowingly in. "Okay," she said, lifting her cup and taking a big sip. Samaritan's smile widened as he watched her.

Early morning was bustling at Jam Pony. The office was bustling as dawn approached. Sketchy burst in, out of breath, and dashed towards Normal, ringing the desk bell frantically.

"I made it; I'm here!" he panted.

Normal, busy sorting packages, barely looked up. "So you did, you did," he said, handing out deliveries. "James, two fifty-seven east ninth, let's go --"

Normal glanced at Sketchy, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "I'm a little impressed. I thought you'd wimp out."

"Wimp out to you? No way, I can handle whatever you dish out," Sketchy declared, trying to sound confident despite his exhaustion.

Normal's eyes twinkled with mischief as he handed out more packages. "Herbal, uptown... Cindy, Colorado Boulevard --"

Turning back to Sketchy with a grin, Normal added, "Really? Well, why don't you see Miss Muir at the flower shop? I've made you her dedicated delivery guy for today. Her regular two guys are out sick."

"No problem," Sketchy said, striking a faux muscle pose. Normal walked away confidently but then stopped as if remembering something.

"Oh, Sketchy," he called over his shoulder. "You know that today is Secretary's Day, don't you?"

Sketchy's confidence crumbled, and he slumped into a chair. "I'm toast," he muttered.

Normal, triumphant, marched back to his desk, barking, "Where the hell is Max?"