Lexy breathed a deep, ragged breath as air rushed in her lungs. She opened her eyes and saw bright sunlight under the edges of the carriage which had turned over, trapping her underneath. The street was almost dry, unlike the puddles under the carriage a minute ago.

She was afraid she had been unconscious for some time but didn't think so. She checked Bootsie in his carrier. He was curled up and staring at her. Her right wrist throbbed, and she had a few bruises but was otherwise uninjured.

The gap between carriage and street was too narrow for her to squeeze out. 

Frustrated, Lexy tried to open a door on the carriage, but it only opened a few inches. She sobbed. Bootsie yowled. She knew how he felt. Her heart pounded faster as she began to panic.

A police car drove by with its siren wailing. Feet walked past the carriage. She tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths, and felt a little better. The Maelstrom had gone as mysteriously as it had come in the few minutes she'd been under the carriage. She checked her cell phone. No service, no time, blank screen.

Shiny, expensive shoes under pin-striped trousers walked by, accompanied by someone in a policemen's uniform. "Mayor Luthor, rescue efforts are going well."

Mayor Luther? Barney Johnston is Mayor of New York City. Who is Mayor Luthor. Did I get knocked out and I'm dreaming? She wondered. She stuck her arm out and waved, but either the men didn't notice or ignored her.

Lexy straightened Bootsie's crate, speaking soothingly to the wet, miserable cat. She stuck her umbrella through the gap and waved it. Someone should spot it and come to help her.

She heard a swoosh of air, and red, knee-high boots on strong legs in royal blue leggings appeared in the gap under the carriage. A thin, red blanket dragged behind the man. A blanket! Maybe he'll give it to me. She wiggled the umbrella again.

"Hello, lady, I'll help you," a deep, gentle voice said.

"Please. I was supposed to go to the Plaza Hotel near the Park, but the lightning struck and turned this carriage over me."

There's no Plaza Hotel near here in Midtown Park," the man said, "but help is here. Fred! There's a young lady under here, with her cat. I'll lift the carriage."

How does he know I have a cat? He must hear Bootsie meowing. But Bootsie is quiet. "You'd have to be Superman to lift this, mister. Don't try it by yourself."

"I am Superman," the deep voice said.

Very funny. She lay still as Red Boots lifted the carriage and set it upright. She sat straight up, blinking in the bright daylight. She looked at her rescuer. She shaded her eyes with a hand, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.

With the sun behind him, she couldn't get a good look at him. She caught a blurry glimpse of a tall, dark-haired man in a blue body suit with the red blanket hanging from his shoulders, and the red boots. The man watched her quietly. How had he lifted the carriage. Someone must have helped him.

"Superman?" This character was wearing a Superman suit, yellow "S", cape, red boots and all. He also had the dark good looks of Superman. "I must have hit my head. I'm unconscious or hallucinating." She sniffled, for she was soaking wet, cold, probably concussed, and hungry, with a cat yowling.

The man seemed to stare at her carefully, then went on one knee beside her. She looked into calm blue eyes framed with long dark lashes, and again caught her breath. He might a nut, but he was strong as an ox and there was something soothing and comfortable about him. "No, miss, you didn't hit your head. You have a sprained wrist and many bruises, but you'll be fine. The cat's ok, just wet and hungry."

"Who are you really?" Lexy asked, rubbing her head. She wanted to cry. "This is a bad day for jokes."

"I am Superman."