Читать книгу Star Lass - Paul Kocourek - Страница 6

Dr. Steve Williams, not as young as he once was, stood in line in the bank lobby for the next teller, figuring expenses in his gray head. He considered the rest of his research grant money he was withdrawing today and shook his head.

It'll do for now, he thought, but what do I do next? This is the last of the money. He pulled out his phone to make a call, but then canceled. No, he mused. Better not call like a beggar. Wouldn't do me any good, anyway.

Steve admitted that people thought him strange, eccentric. Was it his fault he "thought outside the box"? His theories initially excited enough interest to get a grant, but he had no results to show for it. He was certain he was on the right track, but the results he sought eluded him. He had to be close, so close. Yet, without some demonstrable results, his grant would expire. At his age, near to retirement, he wondered what he would do. Maybe go back to teaching?

As he mulled over his financial worries, a group of masked people armed with assault weapons rushed into the lobby.

"Everybody freeze! We're making a withdrawal!" one masked man cried as he brandished his weapon. "Nobody does anything stupid, and you'll all live to make it home to have barbeques and watch reruns!"

Several men with their automatic weapons covered two armed security guards. "Don't even think about it," one of them hissed. The guards raised their helpless hands in the air. The thugs began to herd people to the side.

Steve's heart sank, and he thought in dismay, Oh, this is just great! Just perfect! What else can happen today?

THOOM!

A clap of light and thunder exploded in the center of the lobby. Abruptly displaced air hit everyone, blowing windows out in a spray of pulverized glass, knocking everyone back. Steve himself staggered, but didn't fall, having a countertop to brace him. His first thought was that the thieves had set off a bomb. However, the bank robbers looked as stunned as everyone else. And what—or rather, who—was that standing in the center of the lobby at the heart of where the explosion had occurred? He saw a stunning young blonde woman in some fancy white costume and blue cape.

"Oh, man, is she gorgeous!" he breathed aloud, awed. He thought of a quip he'd heard once, that every man has a subconscious mental image of the perfect woman. And he, a perpetual bachelor, immediately decided he was looking right at her. If only I were younger, he rued.

Even more than her attractive beauty, it was the confusion in her eyes that caught his eye. She looked disoriented. Somehow, Steve had the presence of mind to record her on his phone's video. The robbers were forgotten as he found he could not tear his eyes away from the vision of preternatural loveliness.

Then the criminals responded to her surprise appearance. All their guns spun to target her and gunfire erupted, blazing and filling the bank lobby with their continual thunder. She shielded her face instinctively, throwing up her arms, terrified. Steve's jaw dropped when he saw the bullets bounce off her! Impossible! A hellish storm of bullets blazed into her vicinity. Those that missed her tore into desks, cabinets, counters, walls, hanging picture frames—all took shattering damage behind her—but the slugs that hit her bounced and dropped uselessly spent on the floor at her feet. Moments more of blazing gunfire, and then there were just clicks as the assailants ran out of ammunition.

Though not visibly hurt, the costumed woman—a teenager, Steve realized—looked around herself in panic and desperation. Then she saw the shattered floor-to-ceiling lobby windows and turned to run toward them. She took a step and seemed to fall, but instead her feet left the ground and she flew out the window! And he had it all on video! He saw to the side a teenager boy also capturing video. The bank guards, previously covered by the robber's guns, lost no time taking advantage of the confusion; they drew their guns in double-handed grips and covered the would-be robbers, ordering them to throw down their weapons and put their hands on their heads. In mere moments, it was all over.

Shortly, warbling sirens and flashing lights announced the police arriving in force. They took custody of the robbers, and were surprised—and relieved—that though the employees and customers alike were shaken, not one had taken a bullet wound. They interviewed everyone, customers and bank staff both, and took statements and contact information. Steve also dutifully gave his information and finally left the bank in a daze.

Later at home, he sank into his comfortable sofa, his head swimming. Steve couldn't get the young woman out of his head. Whoever she was, whatever she was, the bullets didn't hurt her. He was no expert, but he figured that much firepower would have felled a herd of elephants. He played back the phone video and looked at all the bullet damage to the lobby itself and shook his head. He thought about it and wondered how could she just ignore that lethal barrage? Then he remembered her terrified look. She had not expected that bullets to bounce. Her expression was that she believed she was going to die, right then and there. Whatever saved her life was as unexpected to her as it was to everyone else in the lobby. To him as a research scientist, it posed intriguing questions and even more intriguing possibilities. Flight without action/reaction? An imperviousness to damage? It raised questions about formerly unquestionable laws of physics!

Steve decided to save the video to his home computer server. Phones could be lost, stolen, or just plain malfunction, and he couldn't afford to lose that video, his one link to her. When he finished copying it, he sat back, his mind—and pulse—racing.

"I'm smitten," he admitted to himself, the unknown young woman's terror showing plainly in her eyes. He wanted to protect her, to sooth away the fear, to reassure her and bring a smile to her face. Then he was struck by a realization to which he refused to give credence. He was not going to get all love-at-first-sight over a teenage girl. It was unthinkable! At 64, he was too old for her, triple or even quadruple her age, far too old to romance her. If he tried, she would just laugh in his face. Steve couldn't bear the humilation of that. He could not, he would not, even think of pursuing such a young woman! His life was long past his prime years, while her years were just starting. Even if she wanted him, it would not be a kindness to overburden her with a man whom she would long outlive. So, he turned his thoughts back to his financial problems, trying to decide how to earn an income in his declining years. When he retired to bed that evening, his dreams were full of a ravishing beauty of a blonde stepping out of a detonation of light and thunder.