Made of Steel

“Steven Willow, we need you for a new assignment,” Mrs. Winslow calls. “We want you to track down the source of this radiation.” Steven is a radiation scout, he locates radioactive signals and finds the source.

“On it,” Steven answers. He grabs his Geiger-Mueller Counter, a device that measures radiation, as he leaves the office. Slowly, he follows the signal, and the higher it gets, the closer he is. 

The signal leads to a small farm. There are fields of corn covering the flat land. There is a slight breeze, waving the stalks around. A smell of decomposing produce fills the air.  Steven sees a sign: Henderson Farms, it reads. He pulls up the driveway and walks to the front door. As Steven studies the house, he sees a face peering through the window. 

“Mr. Henderson?” he calls. “Are you home?” There is no response. Steven walks up to the door and knocks. “I know somebody’s here,” he says. Slowly, the door creaks open. A man, Mr. Henderdon, stands, almost in too rigid of a posture, in the door frame. He has a husky build with a scraggly ginger beard. His clothes are old and grimy, looking as though they haven’t been washed for days.

“What is it?” Mr. Henderson demands.

“We’ve been getting signals of high radiation, I’ve been tracking them. They seem to be leading to your-”

“Get out!” Mr. Henderson yells.”I don’t want no one on my land!”

“But sir, we need to find the radiation,” Steven fumes.

“Did ya hear me?” Mr. Henderson growls. “I said get out!” He slams the door shut, and Steven hears the lock click.

In his truck, Steven calls Mrs. Winslow. “Hello? I found the source. It leads to Henderson Farms,” he reports. “However, he doesn’t want us near his house.”

“I’ll look him up in our database,” Mrs. Winslow assures him.

“I’ll try to sneak a look around while you’re doing that,” Steven adds. Turning the key, he starts his truck. Slowly, Steven backs out of the driveway. He sees Mr. Henderson watching him leave. Steven turns on to the road, drives a few hundred feet, and stops. Quietly, he opens the car door, gets out, and gently shuts it. Carefully, Steven creeps through the corn. Making his way back to the house he sees a small red barn in the distant fields. I wonder what’s over there, is the first thing in Steven’s mind. He changes direction from the house to the barn.

As Steven gets closer, he can see the red paint, flaking off the timber walls. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, the Geiger-Mueller Counter sounds. Steven starts heading back for his truck, not equipped for this much radiation.

As he’s walking through the fields, Steven gets a text: Call me as soon as you can, it’s from Mrs. Winslow. Steven runs back to the privacy of his truck, ignoring the cornstalks scratching his face. He gets to his truck and slams the door behind him. Scrambling, Steven punches in Mrs. Winslow’s number.

“Mrs. Winlsow? The radiation is off the charts!” Steven reports.

“Anything else?” Mrs. Winslow questions.

“Not yet,” Steven answers.

“We looked into Mr. Henderson. He is a local Kentucky farmer named Bill Henderson. The weird thing is, he was found dead a few years ago, in 2026. He shouldn’t be there,” Mrs. Winslow concedes.

“There must be a mistake!” Steven gulps. “I saw him, right here.”

“Steven, play it safe while we bring our equipment and security,” Mrs. Willow warns.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steven answers. After hearing that he had just met a dead man, Steven needs fresh air, so he opens his door and leans against the truck. Closing his eyes, he takes slow breaths. Suddenly, he hears footsteps behind him. Steven turns around. A shadow looms over him. The figure lifts his wrist, pointing it at Steven. A flash of light fills the air, then everything goes black. 

Pounding fills Steven’s head, and he doesn’t know where he is. His wrists are raw from a rope binding them together. Opening his eyes, Steven sees he’s in a dark room. There are crates around him, giving off a soft purple glow. “What is this place?” Steven asks himself.

“It’s my barn,” a voice replies as a man steps out of the shadows. After studying the man, Steven realizes that the man is Mr. Henderson. “And you, Steven, well, you know too much.”

“What do I know?” Stevens demands. “And how do you know who I am?”

“I’m not like everyone else, Steven,” Mr. Henderson grins. “I couldn’t help but overhear that call of yours. You guys are smart, but not smart enough.”

“What do you mean?” Steven asks while twisting and turning his hands in the rope.

 The man chuckles. “You were able to track me down. You were able to find out that Bill died a few years back, but you made one mistake, I am not the real Bill Henderson.” The man opens one of the crates. Taking out a glowing rock, he looks at it studiously. Popping the rock into his mouth, he chews it easily, crunching on it as if it were a carrot.

In the corner, Steven works at his bindings. Finally, he watches the rope fall to the floor. Gathering all of his courage, Steven stands up, facing the mysterious man. Cautiously, he lifts his foot, taking slow, quiet steps toward whomever, whatever, was in front of him. Seeing a shovel leaned against a wall, Steven picks it up. As he gets closer to Mr. Henderson, Steven raises the shovel above his head. Mustering all the strength he can, he slams the blade of the shovel down on Mr. Henderson’s head. CLAAANG! The handle snaps, unable to handle the force put upon it. 

“I did it!” Steven exclaims. As he’s catching his breath, he watches in horror as the man turns around. There is no blood, no scratches, just a dent.

“It’s funny, really,” Mr. Henderson laughs. “I thought you would have found out. Bill died in a freak accident, a science experiment gone wrong. I am the cover-up. No one is supposed to know that he died. No one is supposed to know that he doesn’t run this farm. No one is supposed to know that I get my energy from raw uranium. No one is supposed to know that I am made of steel.”

“Well, people do know,” Steven croaks. “My team is already on the way.”

“I guess my job will be a little bit harder then,” Mr. Henderson smiles as he makes his way toward Steven. Looking around, Steven knows he needs to either escape or fight back.

“Your job will be a lot harder,” Steven yells, hurling himself at Mr. Henderson. A cold, hard punch hits Steven across his face, knocking him to the ground, a ringing fills his ears. Noticing the shovel blade next to his leg, Steven gets an idea. Shakily, he stands up, using a crate to help keep balance. Steven straightens his posture, looking into Mr. Henderson’s metallic eyes. Lifting his arms to aim the shovel at his enemy, Steven charges. Knowing that everything is as strong as its weakest link, he aims for Mr. Henderson’s chest, hoping against hope that there is a seam, a joint between steel plates, on his core. Thrusting the blade forward, a screech of metal on metal fills the air. Sparks fly, singeing his hair and burning holes in his clothes. A pile of scrap sits in front of him. Steven drops the shovel, falling to his knees and collapsing from exhaustion.

 “Steven, you have done so much more than expected,” a voice says. Looking up, he realizes he is back in the office. Mrs. Winslow stands above him. “We found you passed out next to all the uranium. We have stabilized your radiation levels and have dealt with Mr. Henderson.”

“Thank you,” Steven mumbles, still dazed from what has happened. He sits up, blinking from the harsh lights. “What now?”

“How about you take a few weeks off, a break from all your great work,” Mrs. Winslow smiles, “and when you’re back, we’ll need you for a new assignment.”