Monday, July 18, 2016
Tauy Creek Digest #12: Yieldman
For the next several hours, Byron holed himself away in his apartment watching the news about the subway explosion. As evening fell, the authorities had narrowed down who had initiated the attack and had their pictures and security camera footage plastered all over the television and internet. "I should do something," Byron said to himself. He looked back and forth between the television and the golden rod he found on the subway. He picked up the rod and felt the power again. But sat it back down.
As night fell, the perpetrators were making a getaway. Racing down the highway with numerous police officers in pursuit. They got out of the city and that's when Byron went into action. He changed his clothes and put on a red shirt, blue sweatpants, and a red mask to try to hide his face. He picked up the rod once again and felt its power. This time, he levitated slightly to practice taking off and landing. He then flew out the window toward the car chase happening in the outskirts of the city.
Byron swooped above the city, amazed at seeing his home from this angle. He would have to take time to do this when there weren't two terrorists trying to elude the authorities. He flew as fast as he felt comfortable. Soon, he had caught up with the police cars and very quickly was over the terrorist's car. Byron flew faster to overtake their car and found himself several miles in front of them.
Byron hovered and watched their car. He had to make sure he timed it just right and that he could actually handle what was going to happen. The car approached him on the highway and he braced himself. Byron quickly landed only a hundred feet or so in front of the car and planted his feet.
The car, unable to swerve to avoid the man now standing directly in front of them, smashed into Byron's left leg. Byron felt it but it only felt like someone had hit it with a pillow. The car didn't fare well. It was crushed from the hood to the backseat. One of the men flopped through the broken windshield onto the hood. The other was crushed between the steering wheel and the driver's seat.
The police surrounded Byron and the terrorist's car, watching in awe at what they were seeing. After making sure the car and the terrorists were stopped, a police officer ran up to the scene. "What in the world?" he asked and felt the pulses of both the terrorists. "This is Officer Douglas. We need and ambulance on Highway 287 at mile marker 165," he said into his radio. "They're still alive and breathing. You could've just picked their car up or grabbed the bumper to stop them."
"Sorry. I'm new at this," Byron said. "I also wanted to test my invulnerability."
"Okay," Officer Douglas said. "So you're a superhero?"
"Yeah," Byron looked down as his makeshift costume, as did Officer Douglas.
"Not a very good costume."
"Like I said, I'm new at this."
"Well, thanks for stopping them. We had a roadblock several miles up the highway but that wasn't a guaranteed stop. What should we call you when talking to the press?"
Byron thought for a second and looked around trying to find something that could be his superhero name. Then, off to his left, something stuck out. "Yieldman," Byron said, looking at the yield sign, illuminated by the surrounding police lights. As soon as he said it, Byron regretted it.
"Yieldman? Odd name, but I get it, I guess," Officer Douglas shrugged. "Again, thank you. You should get out of here before we feel compelled to arrest you for vigilantiism or something."
"Thank you, Officer," the newly christened Yieldman said as he floated into the air. "I hope to help you and everyone in the city as much as I can from now on." Yieldman flew off back to the city, he heard the shrieks of amazement from the other police officers. As he approached the city limits, a solumne look came over Byron's face. "Yieldman? What kind of a stupid name is that?"