Myke Phoenix 6: The Puzzle of the Talking Dinosaur

Epilogue

The reporter and the half-man-half-duck looked at each other across the table. Outside, the storm had settled into a gentle, rhythmic rainfall.

Quincy Quackenbos broke the silence.

"Well, obviously Myke didn't die."

"No, he didn't. Or yes, he did, but he got fixed. I don't know. I swear I felt my heart stop. It was a pressure in my chest like my heart skipping beats except constant, as if it had stopped altogether," Paul Phillips said. "Next moment I was changed back and I was exhausted, but the pain was gone. The vase told me I should rest and take it easy for three months after that. I thought about switching into Myke Phoenix a couple of times over that time, but the vase just about screamed at me: 'Not yet!!'" he intoned, imitating the androgynous voice of the ancient vase.

The duck man looked at his newfound friend thoughtfully. "To have super power at your disposal, and then for the power to be withdrawn – that had to be hard."

"It was," Paul conceded. "There were a couple of times, those three months, when I really could have used Myke, but I had to work around the fact that he wasn't available. I should tell you about those sometime."

"Did you ever see the Phoenix again?"

"No. And I was barely aware it was there that time. I was drifting in and out, I thought I was dying. I was dying. At first I thought the bird was another vision of heaven."

"The big bird tends to stay out of the way," the vase said. "It likes to live on its own and let life unfold as it will. Every so often, it decides it needs to intervene, but it's always when life and death are at stake."

"Every so often? That's the only time the Phoenix has appeared in the 18 years I've been Myke Phoenix."

"When you're a mythical bird that lives 500, a thousand years, there's a long time between 'every so oftens.'"

"And that was the last anyone heard of Deinonychus again, before now?" Quincy asked.

"Well, sort of. Some of the evil I've encountered over the years had echoes of the same malevolence." The reporter with the crimefighter alter ego looked out the window as if he saw something in the dark. "I've never quite understood why Deinonychus and her kind do what they do. Oh, the underlings, the thugs, they're motivated by fear – it's 'Do as you're told or be shredded.' But she just seems to force her power on others, to lord it over the underworld, to try to rule the world, just for the sheer pleasure of it."

"That does seem to be about the size of it," Quincy said. "Me, I always wanted to see how things work, and I didn't care what I had to do to find out. Pinkstaff, I think, rose to the top of the crime world out of fear – he was a scary guy but underneath he was scared, too, he just figured he could be safer if he became the scariest guy in the room. Deinonychus, though, she seems to enjoy being bad."

"Evil is some kind of disease, I think," Dana agreed. "In the end, some things can't be explained any other way."

"Where do you suppose the Phoenix took her? Why wouldn't she just kill her?"

"That's not the way of the Phoenix," Paul Phillips and the Soulkeeper of Kiribati said in unison.

Dana chuckled. "Somebody owes someone a beer."

"I don't drink," the vase said.

"Well, in any case Deinonychus went away, far enough away that she was gone for years," said the duck man. "But I would swear she was behind what happened to me last month."

"A lot of things have been happening, even before you were released from prison," Paul said. "We went years without anything strange happening in this town. I was actually getting bored with petty gangsters and burglars, but lately it's been one crazy thing after another. A couple of giant spiders showed up one day spitting fire and terrorizing the city. An alien spaceship landed outside of town. I bumped into Dr. Skull and his gang again. And then there was that bunch who kidnapped you after you got out of prison."

"Don't forget that weird guy who went around town kissing women," Dana said.

"That's hardly in the same league as –"

"Oh, yes it is, Paul," came the voice of the Soulkeeper of Kiribati. "When the spirit of evil starts to spread, sometimes it manifests in funny ways. I warned you the kisser could be one of those manifestations."

"The kisser wasn't funny," Dana said ruefully.

"Funny, peculiar, not funny, ha ha," the vase said. "The point is, we've seen all these harbingers that evil in the world is gathering its forces."

"It fits. Deinonychus could be behind all of it," said the duck man.

"Or at least her becoming active again could be part of the manifestation," Paul said. "In any case, I could use some help."

"I'm 64. I'm too old to go into the superhero business, even as the plucky sidekick."

"You know the underworld. You know Deinonychus, you worked with her and for her. You're a scientist, a chemist. We could use your help in a dozen ways."

For the first time since he came in to dry off, an impish spark appeared in Quincy Quackenbos' eyes.

"I refuse to wear spandex."

"I don't wear spandex. Superheroes in tight pants is a media invention."

"Hey, buddy, you're the media, don't go blaming the media," Dana said. "But Soulkeeper, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is evil in the world gathering its forces? For what?"

"Evil doesn't necessarily need a reason," said the misshapen green vase. "But this does seem to be building up to something. What it is, we can only guess at this point."

In the distance one more rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.

"OK. I'll help if I can," said Quincy Quackenbos. "So what do we do next?"

"For now, I guess we wait," Paul Phillips said. "Something is bound to turn up that needs Myke Phoenix to fix it."