Impossible things subpar.., p.1
Impossible Things (Subparheroes), page 1
IMPOSSIBLE THINGS
SUBPARHEROES SERIES
ALEXA LAND
Impossible Things
First edition
Copyright © 2024 by Alexa Land
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
The author does not consent to any Artificial Intelligence (AI), generative AI, large language model, machine learning, chatbot, or other automated analysis, generative process, or replication program to reproduce, mimic, remix, summarize, or otherwise replicate any part of this creative work, via any means. The author supports the right of humans to control their artistic works. No part of this book has been created using AI-generated images or narrative, as known by the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Raven Quill Editing, LCC
Cover Art by Jo Clement, Covers by Jo
ASIN Ebook: B0CW1BHFQF
ISBN Paperback: 9798324001537
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
1. Andy
2. Andy
3. Sam
4. Andy
5. Sam
6. Andy
7. Sam
8. Andy
9. Andy
10. Sam
11. Andy
12. Sam
13. Andy
14. Sam
15. Andy
16. Sam
17. Andy
18. Sam
Epilogue: Andy
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Ava and Amy for all the support and encouragement. Much love to you both!
Thanks Kim and Melisha, for all you do. It’s much appreciated.
Thank you to cover artist Jo Clement and to editor Raven Quill. It was a pleasure working with you!
Special thanks to author Elle Keaton for coming up with this fun idea for a multi-author shared world series, and for letting me join in.
CHAPTER 1
ANDY
As I sprinted up Telegraph Hill with about two dozen overly enthusiastic raccoons in hot pursuit, I muttered, “Not again.”
Even though I’d had a big head start, they were closing the gap between us. They wouldn’t hurt me if they caught up, but the thought of those creepy little raccoon hands climbing all over me sent a shiver down my spine.
My only hope was finding someplace to take cover. Home was still several blocks away, and since it was barely past dawn, most of the businesses in this neighborhood were closed. But a storefront with its lights on came into view as I rounded the crest of the hill, so I made a beeline for it.
Just as I reached the bakery, the lead raccoon got close enough to make a grab for my sweatpants. I had to execute a move worthy of an NBA star, pivoting and faking left before diving inside.
With no time to spare, I pulled the door shut and collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. It felt like my heart was about to explode. A moment later, the raccoon horde thudded into the glass-fronted building, like a wave washing up onto the shore. As several of them stood on their hind legs, sniffing the air and pressing their hands to the glass, a voice behind me exclaimed, “What the hell!”
“I’m sorry.” The apology came out automatically. I adjusted my glasses and got to my feet, wiping my sweaty forehead with the cuff of my hoodie as I turned around.
The guy behind the counter looked familiar. He narrowed his eyes, studying me for a moment before announcing, “I know you. You’re Anderson Chen, right? You were in my brother Joey’s grade in school. You’re the guy who wrecked his graduation ceremony by summoning every seagull in San Francisco. It was like a freaking Hitchcock movie!”
“That was an accident. I didn’t mean to call the birds, just like I didn’t mean to call those raccoons.” I gestured over my shoulder, toward the squeaking sound of their little palms dragging across the glass. “And to be fair, I also wrecked my own graduation ceremony that day, not just Joey’s.”
“Accident or not, it was a total shit show. Literally. I and everyone else got crapped on like, a million times.”
“Sorry about that.”
He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you send those raccoons away? They’re smearing my windows, and I just washed them.”
“No. All I can do is put out a signal that calls animals to me, but they don’t listen or follow orders.”
“That’s the worst superpower I’ve ever heard of. Seriously. I used to wish I had powers, but I’ll take being a regular guy over your shit any day.”
Same. It wasn’t like I’d asked for this. “Is it okay if I hang out here for a few minutes? Animals have a short attention span, and they’ll wander off soon.”
“Sure, as long as you buy something.”
I crossed the room to the display case and read the labels on the shelves. “Is everything gluten free?”
“Uh, yeah. What else would that mean?” He pointed to a sign on the wall, which read Off the Wheaten Path. I ordered a small cup of coffee, but he shot me a look and picked up a big, pink box. “I’m going to have to rewash those windows, you know. And what if a potential customer sees those vermin in front of my bakery and decides to shop elsewhere? I could be losing money.” I fought back a sigh and ordered a dozen bagels.
The raccoons had dispersed by the time I finished slowly doctoring up my coffee with hemp milk and monk fruit sweetener—the least objectionable of the choices offered. There was only one animal left on the sidewalk when I stepped outside, and he stared at me blankly before running away.
I made a point of staying focused on my walk home. It was fairly easy to control my power, unless my mind wandered. When that happened, all bets were off.
In a few minutes, my neighborhood came into view. A garland of red lanterns was strung across the street, beneath a banner that read, “Welcome to Chinatown, Proud Home of Donny Wang, AKA Captain X-treme.”
That always made me roll my eyes. In the hierarchy of superheroes, Donny was solidly a C-lister. It wasn’t like he was out saving the world or anything. He’d simply been graced with the power of superhuman strength, which wasn’t even all that impressive. Mostly, he used it to land endorsement deals and to show off at public appearances. If I had to see one more photo of Donny flexing his muscles with one arm while holding up a car’s front end with the other, I was going to gag.
My street was just starting to wake up as I reached the compact, yellow apartment building that I’d called home all my life. My mom had inherited it from her great aunt, and she tried her best to maintain it to Auntie’s standards, right down to the cheerful, blooming flowerpots framing the red front door.
To our left was a corner market, and our neighbor was rolling out the carts of produce that lined the sidewalk year-round. When I called, “Good morning, Mrs. Wu,” she scowled at me and went back inside. I always got the same reaction from her, but that didn’t stop me from trying to be polite.
I jogged up the steps and almost dropped both the coffee cup and the flimsy bakery box as I unlocked the door. The cozy lobby, with its potted plants and small seating area, always smelled faintly of cinnamon. Six mailboxes lined one wall, with a slender table beneath them. As usual, the table was strewn with junk mail left behind by our tenants. I gathered it up and deposited it in the recycling bin before climbing three flights of stairs to the top floor.
After once again fumbling with the cup and box while I unlocked the door, I let myself into our apartment. My mom and her girlfriend were still asleep, so I tried to be quiet as I headed down the long hallway. Along the way, one cat after another joined the parade. They rubbed against my legs and meowed at me, and I told them in a whisper, “It’s not breakfast time yet. I’m just up early.”
Needless to say, the cats weren’t interested in my excuses. They grew louder and more demanding as I reached the sunny, yellow and white kitchen at the back of the apartment. I tried to hold my ground while I put the box on the table and finished my coffee, but they were so insistent that I finally gave in and fed them.
At the sound of kibble hitting the bowls, more cats came running. Approximately seventeen of them lived here. It was hard to get a precise count, because some of them came and went. I was convinced three or four pretended to belong to more than one family, so they could extort meals from multiple households.
Obviously, the goal had never been to own that many cats. But every time I accidentally summoned them, one or two decided to stick around. We always made every effort to find their owners, but quite a few had gone unclaimed, and we didn’t have the heart to kick them out.
While the cats munched on their breakfast, I went and took a shower. Afterwards, I crossed the hall to my room with a towel around my hips and jumped when someone said, “It’s so cute that you laid out your outfit, like it’s the first day of school.”
I turned to my best friend Moira, who was lounging on my neatly made bed and reading one of my comic books. She was dressed in pink flannel pajamas with her long, dark hair gathered into a messy bun, and she was holding my plastic Godzilla in the crook of her arm. The Liu family had lived in the apartment directly beneath mine all our lives, and we’d been using the fire escape to visit e ach other since we were six years old.
As I opened my dresser, I asked, “Why are you up so early?”
“I set an alarm so I could come and check on you. I figured you’d be nervous about the first day at your new job.” She tossed aside the comic book and sat up. “Did you already go for a run?”
“Yeah, and I accidentally set off my powers, because I was distracted.”
“Oh no. Rats again?”
“Raccoons.”
She flashed me a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well hey, that’s better than rodents, right?”
“Marginally. I ended up ducking into a bakery so they didn’t catch up to me, thank god. But then the guy behind the counter recognized me from the fiasco at our high school graduation. I can’t recall his name, but his brother Joey was in our grade.”
“I remember Joey’s brother. His name’s Jeff, and he was a senior when we were sophomores. I used to think he was cute, in a douchey jock-bro kind of way.”
“He’s still a douche.”
“Sounds like it. Why the hell would he bring up the graduation incident? That was ten years ago, and it’s not like anyone got hurt. So, a lot of birds showed up and shit on everyone. Big deal. It was an accident, and I still don’t think you should have issued a public apology. If you hadn’t done that, no one would have known you were responsible.”
“I had to apologize, because I felt awful. Besides, everyone knew it was me. I’d been accidentally summoning stuff ever since my powers emerged in junior high.”
While we were talking, I pulled on a pair of briefs under my towel. As I reached for the pants hanging on the back of my closet door, Moira asked, “Are you sure you want to wear that outfit?”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s just a little... old.”
“I bought these khakis last week.”
“No, I mean they’re the kind of thing a little old man would wear, between the bowtie, sweater vest, and tweed sport coat.”
I tossed aside the towel and pulled on the pants as I pointed out, “I always dress like this.”
“I know, but now you’re starting a new job, with new coworkers. It’s a chance to reinvent yourself.” When I frowned at her, she quickly added, “You know I think you’re absolutely adorable, Andy. But this might be a great opportunity to meet a guy, especially if you dress a little sexier.”
“I’m not starting a job as a go-go boy. I’ve been working as a librarian all of my adult life, and this type of outfit has always been appropriate.”
“I’m not suggesting you go to work in booty shorts and a mesh tank top. There’s your nice suit, though, or—”
“I know you mean well. I’m already nervous about today though, so I’m going to wear what makes me comfortable. If these clothes look geriatric, so be it.”
Her expression softened. “You’re right, being comfortable is important.”
After I got dressed, Moira followed me into the kitchen. She was still carrying my Godzilla toy, for some reason. As I got the coffee pot going, she opened the lid on the bakery box. “Hey, bagels.”
“They’re gluten free, though. Jeff made me buy them, in exchange for letting me spend five minutes in his bakery.”
“What a dick.”
She sat down at the table and took one from the box. When she tore off a piece and popped it into her mouth, I asked, “What does it taste like?”
“Disappointment.” Moira grinned. “I should take some to my parents. That’s something they’re used to.”
“I know you’re kidding, but you really should take some. We won’t eat all of those.”
When an orange cat jumped into her lap, Moira scratched its ears and said, “Hi, Sally.”
“That one’s Rufus.”
“Close enough.”
The cat jumped down and wandered off after a minute, and Moira started idly spinning the diamond ring on her left hand. That meant her fiancé was on her mind, so I asked, “Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Then she realized what she was doing. “Oh. My parents are once again pressuring me to set a date. You and I have talked about this a million times, and nothing’s changed. I still don’t feel like I’m ready to get married.” She’d been engaged for six years.
Just as the coffee finished brewing, my mother and her girlfriend Julie joined us in the kitchen. They said hello to Moira, and then Mom exclaimed, “Look at my baby boy, all ready for his new job!”
I felt myself blushing. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this.”
She squished my cheeks between her palms. “It is a big deal, though. You’re stepping into a leadership role and managing some important archives. That’s huge!”
Julie asked, as she pushed her wild, red curls out of her face, “Are you sure you want this job, Andy? I mean, what do we even know about this quasi-governmental agency? They could be into all kinds of clandestine CIA-type crap, and you don’t want to be involved in that sort of thing.”
This wasn’t surprising. Julie was a former hippie with plenty of distrust for the government, big business, and anything that fell under the general heading of “the man.” I freed myself from my mom’s grasp and reminded everyone, “I’m not joining the CIA. I’m going to work for SPAM.” Moira snort-laughed, which happened every time I mentioned my new employer’s acronym.
Julie flung her hands out, which sent the bell sleeves of her red robe flapping. “Right, but what do they do?”
“It’s right there in the title,” I explained. “Special Processing and Management. They work with superheroes. Paperwork is involved.”
Julie shot me a look. “You realize that’s incredibly vague, right?”
Mom took Julie’s hand and towed her toward the coffee maker. At five-foot-two she was a full eight inches shorter than her girlfriend, but she could be bossy when she wanted to. “Leave the boy alone, Juju. This is a great opportunity, and they’re paying him well. Let him enjoy it.”
Julie wasn’t done, though. “But isn’t it suspicious that this agency sought him out, then lured him in with a fancy job title and a fat salary?”
“No, and here’s why,” my mom said, as she plucked two mismatched mugs out of the cupboard. “He’s highly qualified for the job, between his B.A. and master’s degree in library science, ten years of experience working at the university library, and the fact that he’s brilliant. No wonder they recruited him, and it’s only right that they’re paying him what he’s worth.”
Julie sighed. “You don’t need to read me his resumé, Linda. I know he’s qualified, but this whole thing doesn’t sit right with me.”
“It’s going to be fine,” I assured her, “and I’m excited about this. I can’t believe they’re trusting me with an entire department. That’s a huge step up from my old job, and I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
Actually, I was terrified. What if I failed? Or what if SPAM decided they’d made a mistake when they hired me? There were so many ways this could go wrong.
I kept that to myself, though. The last thing I wanted was for my family to worry about me.
CHAPTER 2
ANDY
About an hour later, I paused on the sidewalk and looked up at my new place of employment. The twenty-story skyscraper was plainer and dowdier than everything around it. It was basically just a big box with tinted windows and absolutely no architectural features.
The internet search I’d done told me the building had been there since 1962. It was only a fifteen-minute walk from home, but I’d never noticed it before—probably because it was utterly unremarkable.
I took a deep breath and tried to settle my nerves as I jogged across the street. Two-inch high brass letters spelled out SPAM’s name beside the main entrance, but there was nothing else to indicate what was going on inside.
The door was one of those odd revolving types. At first, nothing happened when I stepped into one of the compartments and pressed against the handrail. I really had to put my back into it to get the thing to rotate, which it finally did with a high-pitched squeak. It was annoyingly slow too, and it felt like ages before it spun enough for me to slip into the building.
