Wonder Guy Read Online Free Page B

up, too. He couldn’t get over the way the cars on the road seemed to stand still. Incredible. His fingers itched for a notepad to record his observations.
    He eased up on his pace, gradually slowing until he ran beside the cars at their own speed. He caught a few looks of surprise from passengers and drivers. He waved to them in passing. Finally, he slowed to a stop at a bus shelter and plopped to a seat on the bench, congratulating himself on stopping without disaster. He needed to find a scrap of paper to use for some notes. He eyed an old flyer taped to the side of the shelter. Still not breathing hard. Wow.
    A buzzing sounded in his ear. Greg waved a hand, shooing whatever away. The sound persisted, too steady and mechanical to be an insect. He felt around the ear of his hooded mask, found a small projection and pressed it.
    “There you go.”
    Her voice, the little old lady, Serafina.
    “I forgot to mention the radio connection, young man. I called to let you know there’s a crime in progress. Right now, in Richfield, the backyard at 6699 Bryant.”
    “I’ll be right there,” Greg said without thinking, or stopping to remind himself he wasn’t really a hero. Already he moved at top speed, easily dodging the nearly stationary cars, buses, trucks and people dotting his path.
    Crime? Since when did he rush to the scene of a crime? What did he think he could do? His doubts echoed in his ears, but he answered them. At this speed, he certainly had the power to do something, and do it before the bad guys even noticed him.
    No time to think things over. No time to second-guess himself. It took no time to cover the few miles of side streets lined with small suburban homes as he rushed toward danger. Greg darted past the last garage standing between him and the designated backyard.
    Maybe a dozen people filled the yard, men, women and children.
    A blonde woman whose strapless dress bared sunburned shoulders stood clutching a toddler and a gangly girl close against her. Her face contorted in a clash of anger and fear, the children gaped, frozen expressions angling toward tears. A man with buzz-cut gray hair and an impressive beer gut sat at the picnic table with men who might be his brothers. He held a barbecued rib halfway to his mouth, fingers greasy, alarmed eyes on the intruders.
    Most of the adults sat around the table. The man at the grill held his hands in the air, still wielding a barbecue fork on which perched a skewered brat.
    Most of the children huddled nearby, around a slip ‘n slide game. A boy clad in sky blue swim trunks snaked down the slide on his belly. By perceptible inches.
    Three men with guns stood positioned around the periphery of the gathering. They wore nylon stocking masks. Two were of medium height and build, one larger, all looked old enough to know better. He scowled at the intruders with an unaccustomed sense of determination locking his jaw. Last summer there’d been news reports of a gang of robbers targeting backyard barbeques. Looks like they’re back.
    In moments shaved fine from a second, Greg tore past the masked men. He pulled weapons from their frozen grasps. The largest man held the shotgun with such a determined grip only Greg’s momentum enabled him to tear it free. A glance behind him showed the beginning of their reactions, eyes widening, mouths opening. The snap of breaking fingers didn’t catch up to him until he’d already collected two thirty-eights and the sawed off shotgun. The sickening sound almost slowed him.
    The frightened eyes of the children and people at the picnic table firmed Greg’s resolve. He frisked the men for other weapons, found a couple knives and another gun, and then dumped the hardware into a plastic wading pool where a lone yellow ducky bobbed.
    It took the work of another instant to unstring the rope from a clothesline at the side of the yard and tie the robbers’ arms and legs. Everything he handled seemed unwieldy. Inertia created more drag