Free Strength by Angela B. Macala-Guajardo Page B

stared at this man holding up several tons of metal all by himself.
    Once Aerigo was even with the back wheels he turned around and settled the bus along the back of his neck and shoulders. Balancing on one foot, he tentatively kicked at what remained of the Mustang’s nose. The car stayed stuck so he kicked it a little harder and made both bus and car wobble. Aerigo shuffled to get both feet back under him, then kicked the car with the ball of his foot and it came unlatched. He caught the vehicle on the top of his boot and helped it fall slower, and at the same time the bus tipped toward his left. Aerigo set the car down with a metallic thud and bent lower as he side-shuffled. All that metal groaned as it was forced upright. It was like watching a big blue twinkie-shaped boat teeter between swells.
    A young boy of maybe six with a buzz haircut breathed, “Whoa! I didn’t know Superman was real!”
    “Me neither!” voiced a second boy clutching to the strap of his Spider-man backpack. Roxie took him to be the first boy’s older brother.
    Aerigo Superman? Roxie mused. Nah...
    Aerigo carefully backed out from underneath the bus, sidestepped away from the sports car, and lowered the bus to the ground. Most bus passengers, along with unaffiliated bystanders, had cameras and cell phones out. Roxie lost count of how many pictures had been taken by the time Aerigo had lifted the bus to his shoulders. Well, this is going to have an interesting impact once all these pictures reach the media...
    People began cheering and clapping.
    “Yay, Superman!” the two boys shouted between cupped hands.
    Aerigo ignored his positive appraisal and stood before the sports car.
    Roxie jogged up to the mangled vehicle.
    No one had tried to leave the car and Aerigo discovered why when he tried opening the passenger door. The handle snapped off in his grip and looked at the broken rectangle of plastic, surprised, then tossed the thing on the ground. He made a fist with one hand and held his other arm openhanded between himself and the car, then shattered the window with a jab. Aerigo reached for the inside handle and tried tugging the door open from the base of its window frame at the same time. The whole car lurched once with a hair-raising screech. Then the door creaked ajar after the second tug. Aerigo peeled back the door as if it were a sardine can lid and peered inside. The airbags had gone off and were deflated. An African American couple sat inside, unconscious. “They’re still alive,” Aerigo said, straightening up. “But there’s something suspicious about this crash.”
    “How so?” Roxie asked. “Car crashes happen every day.”
    Aerigo shook his head and studied the car’s exterior, working his way to the rear bumper. He reached down to touch a dent in its bumper.
    “Maybe the car was in another crash before today,” she said. The dent was more of a hole. It looked like the car had backed into something. The car’s lights were intact and no other part of the bumper was damaged.
    Balancing on one leg, Aerigo made a kicking motion and inserted his foot into the hole. He shook his head and stood even with the bumper, then tried a side kick. He set his foot back on the ground and glared at the bus. “Why is he going to such extremes to slow us down?”
    “Daio did this?”
    “I don’t sense him anywhere right now.” He headed for the other side of the bus, where everyone was still watching on. “He must have run into hiding, but I don’t get why. Now’s a perfect time for a confrontation.” He searched the growing sea of traffic. “What are you trying to do, Daio?” he wondered aloud.
    Roxie recalled her on-the-run encounter with him. Someone he’d referred to as his master was pulling his strings; however, he seemed to be acting upon his own agenda as well. “When I met Daio earlier today, I confronted him about his intentions to follow us.” Aerigo gazed at her. “He said something about seeing if he can