Kill the Dead

She nods. “Cabal sent you. No wonder my ass started burning the moment you walked in. That guy is one big rectal itch and so are his friends. Why should I let you see Johnny?” “Haven’t you heard? I’m Clark Kent and I’m here to save the world.” “It’s not my job to take care of the world. I take care of Johnny.” “Introduce me and maybe I can help with that.” “We don’t need your help.” The office is still the abandon-all-hope bunker I saw when I came in, but to my new angelic vision, it’s an X- ray of shimmering, vibrating molecules. Everything is made of the same microscopic particles and they’re almost weightless. I turn and hand Allegra the cooler, turn back to McQueen and Sons, hook two fingers under the rim of the desk, and flip it into the air. It goes high enough to graze the ceiling tiles and lands upside down with a deep hollow metal thunk. A snow of bail forms follows it to the ground. McQueen and Sons looks at me from her desk chair. “I guess you really are the guy they said would be coming.” “Who said?” “The rectal itch.” I nod and take the cooler back from Allegra. McQueen says, “Sorry about the attitude, but you’re not the first person to walk in here claiming he was Saint George, the angel Gabriel, or the devil himself and start asking questions.” “I thought Johnny was a secret.” “He’s supposed to be. Hence, the attitude.” “I understand. If you want I’ll put your desk back.” She shakes her head. “Let Billy do it. It’ll be his penance for the mortal sin of lameness.” “Hi. I’m Allegra.” We both turn. I say, “McQueen and Sons, this is Allegra. She’s an alchemist and my medical specialist.” Allegra frowns at me and turns to McQueen. “If you don’t tell him your regular name soon, I guarantee he’s going to call you McQueen and Sons for the rest of all our lives.” “Tracy.” “Hi, Tracy,” says Allegra. Tracy focuses back on me. “So, you’re really that Sandman guy people talk about.” “I don’t know. I don’t talk to that many people.” “Did you really come all the way back from Hell for a woman?”