Half Hero ⚡️ {Superhero Adventure Scifi}

Chapter 24: Half-A-Hero

True to his word, Mac made me sleep in the cab of his truck for safety. He tossed me a bunch of blankets to combat the cold, but he wouldn't let me get into the vehicle until my skin had gone back to normal.

I spent several hours pacing around the sodden leaves and sticks covering the forest floor. The tree had burned to a smoldering matchstick by the time I was back to semi-normal, but the forest was too damp to stoke the fire. 

Mac chose to stay inside his trailer, watching me from one of the grimy windows. He did, however, promise to hear me out in the morning, after I'd calmed down.

When I woke up, a thicket of naked branches outside the foggy windows provided little access to the sun to tell what time it was. I shoved the wad of shabby crochet Afghan off my sweaty body and opened the door a crack to find Mac cooking over a stove outside. The salty notes of bacon soaked my mouth with saliva, coaxing me to climb down and investigate.

"Mornin' little lightning bug," Mac called out from a sagging lawn chair. "Pull up a seat."

A handful of birds chattered whenever the trees whispered in the icy breeze cutting through the branches. I inhaled appreciatively to savor the delicious cured meat frying a few feet away. Cautiously, I approached the podgy camping stove.

"Sit on the ground?" I asked dumbly.

"I don't get many visitors," Mac shrugged under a different plaid shirt than the one the night before.

"You don't say?" I mumbled, folding my legs beneath me on the damp earth.

"Hey, you want my help, remember?" Mac countered, shooting me a look. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you Canadian Bacon."

"Isn't that supposed to go on pizza?" I teased, leaning towards the aroma of sizzling pig flesh.

"Only if you're a heathen," Mac rolled his caramel eyes in disgust. "Here, eat. You're too skinny."

"Thanks," I murmured, biting into the piping hot hunk of meat he'd handed me.

"So," Mac started while I chewed greedily. "You can shoot lightning. Do you want to talk about that?"

"Yeah, sorry for the impromptu bonfire last night," I muttered around a mouthful. "I don't know how to control it."

Mac ripped into a piece of bacon with a feral snarl that startled me. He slovenly gnashed the protein between his teeth as flecks escaped into his bushy beard while he smacked his lips.

"Yikes, dude," I giggled at the spectacle he was making of himself. "Mouth closed."

He looked up at me in confusion but didn't comply. 

"What?" Mac grunted. "I'm a big guy, I get hungry."

"You saving those bacon bits in your facial hair for later?" I shot back.

"Wow," he mused, easing back in his chair to take me in. "You are definitely David Clark's kid."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He always had some wisecrack ready to zing you," Mac smiled wistfully, letting his eyes wander toward the spitting pan. "And he was a pain in the ass about it too."

"Gee, thanks," I remarked. "So, what did you do when you served with my dad? Any special skills that could possibly help me?"

"Not unless you need someone to get you into a warzone, no."

"So, you were a pilot?" I guessed, finishing off my ration.

"Nope," Mac grabbed another piece of bacon to shove in his mouth.