Johnny Graphic and the Etheric Bomb by D. R. Martin

football games?
    Mel crossed her arms sternly. “But right now what you’re going to get is—”
    Johnny cringed.
    Mel jumped out of her chair, pulled her brother to his feet, and gave him a bear hug. Then she planted a big, embarrassing kiss on his forehead.
    Johnny squirmed out of his sister’s grasp. She’s gone totally crackers! Rubber room material!
    Suddenly, everyone was laughing.
    “Okay, Mr. Graphic,” Mel teased. “Let’s go over what happened when the Steppe Warrior was getting ready to slice and dice me.”
    Johnny thought back to those very memorable moments on the Night Goose. “Okay, you were at the front of the cabin and shouted at the ghost. The Steppe Warrior turned and walked toward you. He had his sword out. But instead of moving in for the kill, he stopped and laughed. If he hadn’t stopped—”
    “And why did he stop and laugh?” asked Mel.
    Johnny thought about it, then a big grin burst out. “He was surprised by the mustache. On a girl!”
    “Exactly!” trumpeted Nina. “And if he hadn’t been surprised, he wouldn’t have stopped. And if he hadn’t stopped, the colonel would’ve arrived too late.”
    “And the commander might have been killed,” added the colonel.
    “And you would have ended up an only child,” said Uncle Louie.
    “Your stupid two-dollar mustache saved my life,” Mel said. “In all the excitement I never even felt it on my lip. I was wondering why people kept looking at me so oddly. So, my turn now.” She grabbed her root beer off the table and hefted it high. “To John Joshua Graphic and his exclusive one-yearcontract with the Zenith Clarion .”
    “To Johnny,” Uncle Louie said, “and a lifetime of great photographs.”
    “To the eagle-eyed lensman,” Nina chirped, beaming with pride in her best friend.
    After the kitchen quieted down, Mel smiled at everyone. “Bed for me, I think. G’night.”
    “Remember,” Johnny said. “Lunch tomorrow with Mr. Cargill.”
    Offering a nod and a wobbly wave, the pony-tailed etherist vanished down the hallway.
    “You know, Uncle Louie, it’s just not fair that we’ve been roped into this bloody business.” Johnny stared into his root beer, now going flat, along with his mood. “I mean, what’d Mel do to deserve almost getting slaughtered by a ghost?”
    “Well, John,” answered Uncle Louie, “sometimes life just grabs you by the scruff of the neck and gives you a good, hard shaking. Nothing you can do except try to hold on and make it through. Like when your mom and dad disappeared. You can’t even imagine how you’ll survive something so awful. But you do.”
    Johnny’s eyelids suddenly felt incredibly heavy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this tired. He yawned and put his head down next to the empty root beer glass. He was asleep before his forehead clunked against the varnished oak.
     

 
    Chapter 13
    Wednesday, October 9, 1935
    Zenith
    When Johnny woke up, dazzling sunlight was pouring through the window, making his entire bedroom glow. He sat up, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and squinted at the alarm clock on the bed stand. Holy maroley, he thought, ten o’clock already. And how’d he get here? In his pajamas, no less?
    Thirteen minutes later Johnny came trotting down the main staircase—face scrubbed, hair combed, teeth brushed. He had on a brown tweed herringbone suit. He strode into the kitchen and found his sister at one end of the table and Uncle Louie at the other.
    “We thought you’d be up earlier, lazybones,” said Mel. “Figured you’d want to see this as soon as possible.” She held up the front page of the Zenith Clarion .
    Johnny’s eyes practically popped out. He snatched the newspaper out of his sister’s hands, sat down, and examined the front page in detail. It looked amazingly impressive.
    In heavy black type theheadlines shouted:

    Below the headlines came three stark black-and-white images. One showed Captain Merrick sweating at the Johnson Goose’s