Accidental Hero (Jack Blank Adventure) (4 page)

“Or I’m telling the truth,” Jack offered as an alternative.

“Mmm-hmm,” Calhoun said. “Criminally insane would be another option, I suppose. I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s
your own fault that you’re delusional. Mrs. Theedwheck told me about the comic books.”

“What have comic books got to do with anything?” Jack asked.

“This,” Calhoun began, “is the exact reason I banned that type of subversive material in the first place. Robo-Zombies? Laser beams? Your brain has been bent by impertinent pulp. Clearly, you can no longer tell the difference between fantasy and reality.”

“I
know
the difference between fantasy and reality,” Jack replied a little too forcefully. He tried to dial it back to a more respectful tone. “Mr. Calhoun, please. That thing that came after me was real,” he stressed. “If you don’t believe me, you can look out in the swamp. It blasted a tree in two!”

Calhoun dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Probably lightning.”

“Lightning?” Jack thought about that for a moment. “So, how do you know the power generator wasn’t blown up by lightning, then?” he asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack. Lightning never strikes twice.”

Jack thought that logic sounded even more illogical. “How do you know which bolt hit first?” he asked.

Calhoun frowned.

“Jack, I’m getting very tired of your constant need to point out things that don’t make sense. And, if it
was
lightning, you wouldn’t be here telling stories about flying robots,” he said. “Now, you’re going to tell me the truth about what happened out there, or I will have to assume you’ve suffered some kind of psychotic break.”

Jack felt trapped. It seemed the truth wasn’t getting him anywhere. He stuck to his story, adding, “You’re not even listening to me. You never listen. That’s the whole problem with this place.” Jack knew he was just digging himself into a deeper hole with Calhoun, but in his mind, whatever punishment the head disciplinarian had in store was inevitable. Nothing ever changed at St. Barnaby’s, but Jack at least felt a little bit better when he spoke up.

Calhoun issued a noise that was one part sigh, one part grumble. “Don’t you get tired of being sent to this office?” Calhoun asked. “Honestly, Jack, why can’t you just be more like the other children?”

Jack slumped down in his chair with a sad look. “I wish I knew,” he said.

“Young man, you’d better start thinking about your future,” Calhoun warned. He took out Jack’s permanent record. “I know your test scores showed your potential to be fairly limited, but if you don’t start living in the real world, you won’t even live up to that!”

“Please don’t bring up that P-MAP Test again,” Jack complained. It was a bad move. Calhoun revered standardized tests. He was already angry, and disrespecting his precious tests only made it worse.

“Jack Blank! That test happens to be the standard by which children’s futures are decided all over the world! Your contempt for this office and this institution are bad enough, but by God, you
will
respect the National Association of Tests and Limits!”

For Calhoun, standardized tests were beyond reproach. They made his life so much easier. They made it possible for him to discover everything worthwhile about a child without lifting a finger. When Calhoun put a Scantron sheet into a grading machine, he didn’t get a test score back, he got truth. Absolute truth. How smart a person
was, how far they could go, what their life would amount to… it was all there in little black dots made with a number two pencil.

The most important test of all was the Potential Mapping Test, or P-MAP. It outlined the ideal career choice for any test taker, covering everything from astronaut to toilet brush cleaner. Jack’s test score didn’t exactly put him on the fast track.

“I don’t want to be a toilet brush cleaner!” Jack said with conviction.

“Nobody
wants
to be a toilet brush cleaner, Jack, but that’s all the P-MAP said you could handle. I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“I’ve never even heard of a toilet brush cleaner,” Jack argued. “Don’t people just go buy new brushes when they need them?”

“And simply throw out the old ones?” Calhoun scoffed. “How wasteful! Don’t you care about the environment?”

“Okay, then why can’t people just clean their own toilet brushes?”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Calhoun replied. “That kind of activity is best left to professionals like yourself.”

“But I don’t want to do that,” Jack protested. “Can’t I just figure out what I want to be by myself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Calhoun said, closing Jack’s file. “The P-MAP Test has already assigned you a job. Your future is what it is, and that is that. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be. Like your friend Rex. He’s a perfect example.”

“Rex?” Jack asked. “Rex isn’t my friend; he beats me up every day.”

“Right, that’s the boy.” Calhoun smiled. “I believe his tests showed he would excel as hired muscle for some manner of criminal syndicate. Do you see him complaining? No, he’s embraced that career path. He’s taking to it like a duck to water.”

“And you think that’s a good thing?” Jack asked, baffled.

“I’ll allow that it’s not the proper way to make a living, but once a boy with Rex’s temperament gets his foot in the door of an organization like that… Well, you just know that he’s going to go straight to the top. That Rex is going to put St. Barnaby’s on the map!” Calhoun stated with pride. “Unlike yourself, who seems determined to blow us off of it.”

“I’m telling you, it was a—”

“A Robo-Zombie—yes, I know,” Calhoun said, rolling his eyes. “Jack, you leave me no choice. Either you’re lying or you’re mentally unbalanced. In either case, you’re a danger to everyone here, and I can’t give you any more chances. I’m drawing up papers to have you committed.”

“Committed?” Jack repeated. “Are you crazy?”

“This is what psychoanalysts refer to as transference.
You’re
the one who’s crazy. That’s why I’m sending you away.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” a voice called out from the door.

Calhoun looked up in surprise, and Jack spun around to see a man who had entered the office without knocking. But this was the type of man who didn’t need to knock. He had an air of flashy confidence that opened doors all by itself. He was a tall, handsome young man with short black hair who somehow managed to look both official and cool at the same time. In his jet-black suit and shiny tie he looked like he was equal parts Hollywood and secret agent. Jack had never seen him around St. Barnaby’s before.

“Who the devil are you?” Calhoun demanded.

“Agent Jason Knight,” he said, flashing a badge and quickly putting it away. “I’m with the government. Department of Departmental Affairs.”

“Who?” Calhoun replied. “The Department of what?”

“We heard about the incident here this morning,” Agent Knight continued, ignoring the question. “It’s a very serious matter. Very serious, indeed.”

Calhoun was taken aback by the stranger’s intrusion. “I’m aware of that,” he shot back. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing barging in here, but I can assure you that I have the situation well in hand. Now, what do you mean that you can’t allow—”

“I mean, I can’t allow you to send this boy to the loony bin,” Agent Knight interrupted. “He’s going to have to come with me. Go pack your bags, son,” he said to Jack.

“Don’t you move!” Calhoun ordered Jack. He came around the desk to face Agent Knight. “How dare you? You can’t just come in here unannounced and expect me to hand this boy over to… to the, ah… what agency did you say you were with?”

“Not an agency, a department,” Agent Knight corrected. “The Department of Departmental Affairs. We’re a Division of the Divisional Office.”

“A division of the what?”

“I’m trying to help you, sir. To protect your way of life. We’ve been watching this boy for a while now, and he’s been trouble for quite some time,” Agent Knight said firmly. It was an assertion that Calhoun heartily agreed with, Jack knew. “Well, now he’s causing explosions on American soil, and that means I have to deal with him before he threatens the security of our great nation.”

“Me?” Jack asked.

“Quiet, Jack,” Calhoun ordered. “That’s all well and good, Agent Knight, but I’ve never heard of—”

“Oh, you’ve never heard of us?” Agent Knight cut him off. “I’m sorry, I thought you were in charge here,” he continued in a patronizing tone. “My apologies, sir, you can go back to answering phones and processing forms. I don’t deal with deputies and number twos. Your superiors would know who I am. I should probably be speaking directly with the Board of Trustees.”

“No!” Calhoun said immediately. “No, I
am
in charge
here, and of course I’ve heard of the Office of Divisional… Departments.” He adjusted his tie nervously. “I remember now, that’s not the point. The point is, there are rules for this kind of thing. Regulations! Paperwork! This boy’s not going anywhere until you tell me to what end, and for what purpose!”

Agent Knight sighed. “He’s being deported,” he reluctantly revealed.

For the fifth time in his life, H. Ross Calhoun smiled.

“Jack,” Calhoun said. “Go pack your bags.”

When Jack was finished packing up all his worldly possessions, a process that took less than ten minutes, Agent Knight wanted to inspect the blast site where the generator once stood. Calhoun insisted on coming along to make sure Jack did no further damage to school property.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” Calhoun said as Agent Knight sifted through the wreckage. “Any fool can plainly see that there’s nothing salvageable.”

“I’m sure
you
can plainly see that,” Agent Knight replied. “I, on the other hand, am looking for something a bit more out of the ordinary.”

“You mean, like a Robo-Zombie?” Jack asked.

“Hmmm…,” Agent Knight said, staring down at a curiously high-tech piece of debris. Before Jack had a chance to say anything, Agent Knight smashed it to bits with his bare hand.

“Good Lord, man! What are you doing?” Calhoun demanded. Agent Knight ignored him as he continued around the area, taking anything that looked even remotely like Jack’s robot and pulverizing it completely.

“There we are!” Agent Knight finally announced, clapping the dust off his hands. “We’re through here.” He walked off without another word. A mortified Calhoun and a very confused Jack followed closely behind. They got back to the main gates just as the school bus was pulling in on its return from Mount Dismoor.

“That’s it, then, Mr. Calhoun,” Agent Knight said. “Thank you for your cooperation. With any luck, this boy will never see you again.”

“Don’t you mean, with any luck,
I’ll
never see
him
again?” Calhoun said.

Agent Knight smirked. “Right, that’s it. Sure.”

Mrs. Theedwheck and Rex stepped off the bus in time
to see Jack getting into a very new, very expensive sports car with Agent Knight. “Hey! Where’s Weirdo Face going?” Rex asked.

“Yes, Mr. Calhoun! Where
is
Weirdo Face, er…
Jack
going?” Mrs. Theedwheck asked her superior.

Agent Knight spun his tires in the mud, splattering Rex, Mrs. Theedwheck, and Calhoun from head to toe. “He’s going somewhere far away from here,” he said, leaning out the car window. And with that, they were off. Jack absolutely loved the sight of his mud-covered teachers and bully. He didn’t know where he was headed, but he knew anywhere was better than St. Barnaby’s. From the look on Rex’s face, he knew it too.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Jack,” the agent said as they pulled out of the main parking lot and onto the highway. “I really enjoyed that.”

It didn’t take a master detective to see that there was something funny about Agent Jason Knight. A few things, actually. For example, when Agent Knight had flashed his badge back in Calhoun’s office, Jack had noticed that he’d spelled his name “Jazen.” That was a little odd. Also, when the agent had been breaking up the wreckage out by
the power generator, he had seemed way stronger than any man his size had a right to be. But the strangest thing of all about Agent Jazen Knight was what he did when Jack told him about the comic book alien that had attacked him that morning.

The agent believed him.

Jazen listened to Jack’s entire story and didn’t question a thing. He didn’t call him a liar and he didn’t call him crazy. Instead, he told Jack that he’d showed courage. He said he was impressed with Jack. No one at St. Barnaby’s had ever said anything like that to Jack before. He certainly didn’t expect it from somebody who was supposedly there to kick him out of the country. As they drove away from St. Barnaby’s, Agent Knight dropped another bomb.

“I should probably tell you,” he began, “I’m not really an agent with the Department of Departmental Affairs. To be perfectly honest, there’s no such thing. I haven’t used that line in quite a while, but Mr. Calhoun back there seemed like the right type for it. Challenge his authority, and he’ll do anything to show you he’s the boss. People like that will buy any story. The more
ridiculous it is, the fewer questions they ask.”

“So, I’m not really getting deported, then?” Jack asked.

“You are and you aren’t,” Jazen replied. “Trust me, Jack, this is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

When Jack had finished trying to process everything, he was still pretty much baffled. Finally, he asked the big questions: “What’s going on here? Who are you? Where are we going?”

Agent Knight smiled. “My name is Jazen Knight. I’m an emissary of a secret country. The place you come from, actually. I’m taking you home.”

“Home?” Jack asked. “You know where I’m from?”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“I thought I was born here in Jersey.”

Jazen shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s only one place in the world where power like yours comes from. I’m taking you to the Imagine Nation.”

Jack looked back at Jazen like he was a few scoops short of a sundae. “The
imagination?