dave-gillette:

A new short story just in time for Comic Con

The trouble with superheroes is what to do between phone booths. ― Ken Kesey 

     Friday afternoon, Alex Riddle walked through a claustrophobic throng of revelers on 5th Avenue past K Street in the Gaslamp District. Comic Con was in full swing. Not a single solitary superhero could be found, but the atmosphere was buzzing. Word had gotten out that someone was out there doing superhero like things. 

     Chatter passed through the crowd as Alex, who ironically would never be mistaken for a superhero by appearances alone, moved along high on LSD, Vicodin, Cocaine, Ecstasy, and the old Mary Jane. He took the festivities in with the wide-eyed wonder one might associate with contemplating their navel. 

     “Repent sinners!” said a man picketing the show as Alex came to a stop by the rail tracks separating the Convention Center from the Gaslamp. The LSD made his face melt off and morph into a fiery demon’s face with sharp, gnashing teeth. “Satan wants to get his hands on you! Repent and accept Jesus as your savior and redeemer or perish!” Alex’s eyes widened, dilated already to the point of his light baby blues looking like two black holes had taken their place. A faint glow of red built up behind his eyes, stopping the demon-faced man mid-sentence, his sign crashing to the ground as he dashed off screaming.

     The police started waving the crowd across the street allowing Alex to slip into the flow of bodies, an acid trail of people pulling him away from the snapping jaws of the remaining proselytizers passing judgment on these devotees of the hallowed halls of Comic Con. A guy dressed in a trench coat and mask spoke in a muffled voice to him, ink blots moving around his face.

     “Bible thumpers…hurm. Don’t mind them. They’re just ticked that you’re cosplaying as Surfer Jesus.”

     “Jesus was dark skinned.”

     “If you say so. What brings you to Comic Con, savior?”

     He tried to remember why he was here as he watched the ink blots take the form of a family of three engaged in an embrace. He could see them: the dad, the mother, the daughter. His mind wrestled with the haze filling his head like cotton, thoughts straying and racing around the maze of roadblocks presented by overexcited interactions of dopamine and serotonin along his frontal lobe. Why was he here? Something to do with what he should do with his super powers.

     “Uh…,” shrugging his shoulders. “Where do all of the comic book writers… artists… like do their thing?”

     “Hurm…you should grab a program guide. Check the panels and signing times. Maybe Artist Alley or what’s left of it. You know, it’s not really a comic convention anymore.”

     “Thanks.” rubbing his forehead as a hangover settled upon him. His powers allowed him to ingest monstrous amounts of drugs and alcohol, but he needed a greasy breakfast and coffee like anyone else to offset the comedown. Aside from that and surfing, he had little else to help him relate or connect to normals.

     He crossed the trolley tracks, moving with the herd as they streamed up the steps and through the doors of the convention center. No badge, but he could become invisible at will, although he wasn’t sure if it was because he actually turned invisible or because if it was his desire to be invisible. This proved helpful in securing the bare necessities for no cost, but was just another bullet point on a laundry list of items that had him in a bit of an existential quandary. That list had started the moment he had developed his powers.

     In happier times, Alex led a normal life. He had a job, a home, a family. His days were spent catching some waves, punching a clock, and playing with his daughter. Then his powers appeared out of nowhere, changing everything. He had wandered since then, the memory of his previous life compelling him to act for others, the pain of his new life compelling him towards oblivion. His deeds would make the evening news and he would then disappear for weeks at a time binging on drugs and alcohol until society required his services.

     Down the way from the latest stop in his journey was Galactic Comics in Ocean Beach. Naturally he’d visited them operating under the assumption that the volumes of lore contained presently in their walls would provide useful advice like a how to or instruction manual for superheroing that he could use. He’d thumbed through comics like Batman, Harbinger, The Boys, Captain Marvel, and a Superman graphic novel (that’s what the clerk called it) looking for a clear ethos he could relate to; therefore, his current quest. He decided he needed a fresh perspective—someone to talk to—since the pages didn’t answer questions from a guy too doped up to think straight.

     “Badges! Badges! Have your badges out!” and he slowly faded out of focus only to reappear in another moment slowly enough to fool the brain like he was a ghost in the corner of your eye. A guy dressed as Darth Vader bumped into him and bounced into the legion of Storm Troopers following him, sending them flying like bowling pins, the velocity indicating a more solidly packed obstacle than Alex’s lean frame for the Dark Lord. Vader gathered himself up off the ground, looking at Alex. “The Force is strong with this one,” pronouncing to the crowd as they parted like a sea before him.

     “Sorry, bro,” as he slunk off through the opening, a look on his face of embarrassment. He trudged through endless waves of cosplay, trading his anxiety for bewilderment: Batman with a paunch, Wolverine with a receding hairline, Wonder Woman without her lasso of truth? What was he doing here? How could a person with superpowers feel so hopelessly out of place here? The hamster wheel of thought spun in his head as he felt his anxiety creep back into his chest.

     People shifted and morphed around him as he worked his way towards the center of the convention floor, pocketing a discarded program and perusing its contents for the comic creators he wished to consult on his dilemma. Then Lucifer himself appeared as the bible thumper predicted, bumping into him by the Dark Horse Comics booth, a crowd gathering around them with cameras flashing. Satan spoke.  

     “Sorry, man,” he said as they both looked up. “Well that’s kind of ironic.”

     “Huh???” Alex looked at him through a narrow expression of confusion.

     “Hellboy,” gesturing his hands up and down. “You know… Hellboy? You, you’re…”

     A Hessian with a jacket full of buttons interrupted the exchange. “Ron! Guillermo is on his way and…,” looking at Alex. “Well, Jesus Christ,” followed by a deep chuckle and grin.

     “Jesus was dark skinned, bro.”

     “Cool, man,” the Hessian said without missing a beat. “Let’s get a picture together.” They sandwiched Alex between them.

     “No, that’s not a good…”

     “1…2…3,” snapping the picture and back to business. “Thanks, man. We’ll be at the Hilton later for some Bar Con action… you know… if you like to party. Hope you can do more than turn water into wine,” the Hessian said with a wink before shepherding Hellboy off.

     Alex nodded, making a mental note of the invitation while making a second mental note to avoid getting his picture taken again. He considered leaving the con altogether, but the first stop on his list was just a crowd away, which thickened as he pushed his way through towards the Marvel Comics booth where Stan “The Man” Lee was making a surprise appearance.

     “Excelsior!” he said into the microphone as cameras snapped pictures, waving and smiling to the fans lining up for autographs. Alex walked past the crowd to the head of the line, nudging them aside with his mind.

     “Mr. Lee,” he said.

     “Face front, true believer!”

     “Suppose someone needed some advice on being a superhero. What would you…”

     “With great power comes great responsibility,” he said into the microphone, the crowd erupting in cheers.

     “But how do you apply that to a 21st Century world full of moral ambiguity and uncertainty? I mean…”

     “Nuff said!”

     The crowd’s roar drowned Alex out, him slinking off without much more than a platitude to resolve his existential crisis.

     He looked in the program guide for his next stop as he passed the Image Comics booth. Bingo. Darick Robertson, the Joe Strummer of comic art, sat at a table connected to the booth signing and sketching for fans. Alex felt compelled to nudge the line aside again, but took his place like a proper aspiring superhero as Darick finished a sketch of his favorite character from The Boys, Wee Hughie, for the fan in front of him who still had another stack of comics to be signed. Minutes of congenial banter between the affable Robertson and pie-eyed fan made Alex anxious as he tried to think of the right combination of words to say. The fan walked away in a state of euphoria, an empty space left between Alex and Darick. He screwed up his nerve to say something.

     “Can I ask you a question, Darick?”

     “Sure.”

     “What kind of advice would you have for a guy who has… like superpowers,” stroking his beard and looking excitable,” about being a superhero?” He leaned in towards Darick and whispered, “Like me.”

     Darick raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll play along for a second. What are your powers?”

     “Oh…I’ve got a bunch.”

     “Let’s see one.”

     “You have a quarter?”

     Darick smiled, reaching into his pocket to produce one. Alex grabbed it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

     “I’m going to crush this and reshape it into a Monopoly piece of your choosing.”

     “The car.”

     And Alex pinched his fingers, squeezing the quarter into a raw piece of metal, flicking his finger at it and pinching until it took the shape of the car. He held his palm up, producing it for Darick. “Check that out, bro.”

     “That could be sleight of hand,” Darick said with a look of mild amusement. “I’m friends with a former street magician turned professional hacker. He once did a card trick for me that ended with him showing me my card as burns on his fingertips, and that blew my mind. A switcheroo with a quarter and a Monopoly piece doesn’t impress me much.”

     “Oh c’mon, bro! I’m trying to be subtle here,” gesturing to the line now building behind him. “Fine,” as he melted the car into liquid metal that bubbled on his hand. “Satisfied?”

     A collective gasp sounded off around Alex as Darick’s eyes widened. He shook himself out of his surprise. “Maybe Comic Con isn’t the brightest idea for maintaining a low profile.”

     “Hmmm… I thought I’d fit in perfectly with all of the costumes and Hollywood stuff,” Alex said, talking matter-of-factly. “But hey, bro, I could really use your help.”

     “What advice would you need from a schmuck like me?”

     “I read The Boys, and it kind of hit too close to home for me. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know what to do with myself unless there’s a major threat for me to stop. I figured you might have some ideas since you create heroes for a living.”

     “Well, you don’t exactly exude superhero with that Big Lebowski vibe you have there.”

     “Okay, I can see that. I’m a little loaded.”

     Darick shot him a serious look. “How exactly did The Boys hit you too close to home anyways?

     “Well, I have been sort of on a drug binge for a bit, but I want to be more like Wee Hughie, but feel more like Butcher,” he said in a rambling soliloquy that continued inside his head. How much of this did he say out loud?

     “You do realize I just drew that story, right? Maybe you’d want to talk to my former partner?”

     The crowd continued to swell around them as Alex saw the folly of his actions.

     “Nevermind, bro. Thanks anyways,” walking away as the crowd stepped aside. Alex heard whispers and pounding heartbeats, but more importantly he smelled fear. “Man, this isn’t going my way,” he muttered to himself.

     An hour to kill now and Alex felt himself coming down off of his high. He stopped a Supergirl cosplayer carrying a coffee.

     “Hey, Supergirl…”

     “Superman,” she said, looking at him scornfully. “Do you see a skirt?” gesturing with her free hand towards her get up.

     “Whoa! Just wanted to know where you got the coffee,” he said with a sheepish look on his face.

     “Upstairs,” she said, walking away annoyed.

     So up, up and away he went on the escalator, his mind wandering back to the past as he saw a dad wearing a Hawkeye outfit carrying his little girl dressed as Black Widow on his shoulders. They were smiling and talking to each other in excited tones as they passed him on their way down. He felt a little sting in his eyes watching them descend, shaken out of his wistfulness by the bump of the escalator reaching the top floor.

     Two coffees and a few bumps of Cocaine got him rolling again, taking the sting out his previous disappointments. He walked to the panel rooms, crossing through the Sails Pavilion into the Celebrity Graveyard where you could get the autograph of some has been or random who had been in an episode of Star Trek or a B-Movie or something, careful to not make eye contact with the poor souls who would only be remembered by the most hardcore of fans. And then the safe zone as he felt the comfort of the air conditioned hallways leading into the panel area. A few turns later Room 19A – Valiant Comics Panel…Robert Venditti…Fred Van Lente…Matt Kindt…Joshua Dysart. He looked at his phone – 5:22 p.m.

     “Hmmm…eight minutes.”

     And the urge for communication begot a tangle of words from his high octane cocaine in the brain sensation, verbalization shooting through his frontal lobe like a ball of hamburger going through a meat grinder at light speed to an unfortunate soul standing shirtless with white skin and red eyes.

     “Hey, bro! That’s a gnarly costume. It makes your eyes look bloodshot. Are those contact lenses in there or did you stay up all night getting loaded too? Does that body make-up come off if you sweat? Which guy is Joshua Dysart?” all said in one breath as the cosplayer looked to some people standing near him, unsure if Alex was actually talking to him.

     “Um…that’s him. Right there,” he said, pointing to the beaming smile of bliss walking up, effortless and welcoming like a golden god.

     “Joshua! Like dude…I need to talk to you.”

     “I’ve got a minute before the panel, but once the doors open, I’ve got to get in there.”

     Alex ran his hand through his hair as a grin came over his face. “Like…I read Harbinger and totally relate to Peter, but I don’t understand him. Like…what’s his deal? And he’s got superpowers, so why can’t he just stop doing drugs and stuff? And he totally fucked up with Kris and can’t fix it. Like…what would you tell him if he was me, except not me…you know? Needing advice on how to be a superhero and stuff.”

     Joshua’s smile slipped towards a contemplative grin. “Fear yourself. Love your enemies.”

     “Huh???”

     “There’s that door,” all smiles and excitement as he walked away from Alex and into the panel room.

     The words bounced around like pinballs in his head. Fear myself? Love my enemies? Everything he’d done since he left his old life behind had been because he feared himself. And his only enemy was himself. He didn’t know how to love himself after what he had done, what he had become. And then it came, something he hadn’t done in the years. He began to sob, walking outside to the balcony to be alone, except he wasn’t.

     “Why’s Jesus crying?” said the little girl dressed like Black Widow to her father.

     Alex stifled a sob, speaking through the lump that had formed in his throat. “Jesus was dark skinned,” turning around to look at her with a sad smile. “I’m just a guy who needs a shave and a haircut.”

     The dad hoisted her up on his shoulders. “I think he wants to be alone, honey. Let’s give him some space,” he said, walking away. The little girl twisted back to look at Alex as he dried his eyes. She reminded him of the family he drifted away from. His daughter would be six now, but the door to that life felt sealed, closed forever. He looked at the sun shimmering off of the water, thinking of his situation and how everything got so unhinged. He leaped off of the balcony, floating downwards as the little girl tapped her father’s shoulder, pointing to Alex as he drifted out of view and down to the sidewalk near the shoreline. He sat in reflection looking out at the sun slowly finishing its journey across the skyline until day turned into night, repeating things over in his head.

     There was a pain that wouldn’t leave his heart. There were too many reminders of his old life no matter how far he traveled. A feeling of compulsion forced him to his feet in that restless wandering manner he’d fallen habit to when the thoughts became too deep and too reflective. He found himself at the Hilton where he saw the Hessian having a beer and directing people around, making introductions and connections. “Hey, man! You decided to come!” he said in a deep, raspy voice. “I didn’t get your name earlier.”

     “Alex.”

     “Good to meet you, man. What are you drinking?”

     It was time to forget, so the revelry began. The first real person to person interaction he’d had in a long time lasted through many beers and laughs until they wound up downstairs on the shoreline again, getting away from the crowds and the madness.

     “So what do you do for a living, Alex?” said the Hessian.

     “I’m between jobs,” Alex said, shaking his head. “No, that’s not true. I don’t really do anything right now except…,” staring at nothing as his gears turned. Alex looked up. “You know the flight that almost went down by Santa Barbara a few weeks ago?”

     “Yeah.”

     “I saved that plane. I carried it to safety.” He pulled out a joint. “Watch,” as his eyes turned red, igniting the spliff. “And then I shut down a drug cartel, took all of their dope…did most of it though.”

     “Holy shit!” the Hessian said in a deep booming tone. “They’re calling you the Super Samaritan, you know?” he said to Alex, a broad grin of astonishment across his face. “Why are you here at Comic Con of all places?”

     “I thought I could learn something about what it takes to be a superhero,” he said, taking a deep toke off of the joint that turned half of it into ash.

     “Dude! You’re superheroing like a mofo! What do you need to know about being a superhero?”

     “Coughhh! Cough! Cough! If you knew why I do what I do, you wouldn’t say that,” he said, exhaling the smoke and passing the joint to the Hessian.

     “Well, what’s your origin story, man?”

     “I’m not sure how I got my powers,” Alex said. “I don’t know if I really have one. I just know that I used to be normal. I used to have a normal life. I used to have a family.”

     “What happened?”

     “I had to leave.”

     “Why?”

     “There was an accident at the house,” Alex said. “My daughter… my wife…” he trailed off as tears formed in his eyes.

     The Hessian patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, man.”

     “No,” he said. “I’m dangerous. You’ve read what I can do. I can’t afford to have another accident. I could kill them without even trying. I could just sneeze the wrong way and…”

     “Dude, you can’t abandon them either. How long has it been since you saw them?

     “A few years.”

     “Dude, you need to call them like right now. I’ll call for you. What are their names?”

     “I can’t.”

     The Hessian pulled out his phone. “Call them, man. What could be so bad that you can’t call them, let them know you’re okay?”

     Alex got up. “I can’t, man. I don’t even know if they have the same number.”

     “You wanted to figure out how to be a superhero? Call them.”

     He put the phone into Alex’s hands, Alex’s fingers trying to remember the number as his hands began trembling He was afraid that he’d crush the phone trying to dial, holding it like a baby kitten. And then it rang for what seemed like an eternity. A sleepy voice answered.

     “Hello?”

     “Elise… It’s…it’s me.”

     “Alex?” her voice said sleepily before coming alive. “Alex! You’re alive! I knew you…”

     “I… I…”

     “Alex, come home. It’s okay. Come home.”

     “I… I…”

     “Honey, come home. It’s okay. Your daughter, she needs you. I need you. Come home.”
                                                            –

     Alex stood in front of a small cottage surrounded by tall Sequoias, overlooking the ocean. The water crashed against the cliffs, the sound carrying gently up their walls. He had been standing there for hours trying to summon the courage to knock on the door. He could hear two heartbeats when he finally knocked, one speeding up and the other remaining calm. The door flung open, his daughter leaping into his arms followed by his wife wrapping her arms around him. But it was with one arm that his daughter held on, the other gone near the elbow.

     He looked at where her beautiful arm should have been, his eyes welling up in tears as he touched what remained. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. Daddy didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to…” he said as he began to cry.

     “Alex, you didn’t do that,” Elise said. “You didn’t do that.”

     “But I… I saw her… on a stretcher,” he said. “I… I…”

     “It wasn’t you. The house… it collapsed. We thought it…,” she said, holding his face, looking into his eyes, “killed you. A fire started and her arm was crushed under a beam. I left you in the room to save her. Then the house went up in flames.”

     He began to remember. Something crashed into their house that night. Something from the sky, and then he felt his body, his consciousness erupt as some sort of energy pierced his body. He lay there dazed and then the flames consumed him. He ran on fire, leaping over the cliff in agony, wishing for death, not realizing that the flames were burning something out of him. What felt like an eternity passed before he emerged from the water. He looked at his arms, his legs, nothing harmed. His thoughts went to Elise and his little Avery and he leaped to the top of the cliff, seeing fire engines and paramedics tending to them. He looked at himself, thinking of the fire and flame, his family being carted away. He had always felt responsible, completely terrified and sure it was him that was the cause for what happened until now.

     “Come inside,” Elise said. They walked into the house, the home they had bought when they were married years ago. It felt the same still even though it had been rebuilt. “Avery wants to show you something.” Her little hand grabbed his and led him into her room. On the wall were newspaper clippings, clippings of every good deed the Super Samaritan had done.

     Super Samaritan Saves Sinking Ship

     Super Samaritan Digs Thousands of Wells in Africa

     Family Saved by Super Samaritan

     “She just knew it was you,” Elise said. “I didn’t believe her at first, figured I’d let her deal with you being gone in her own way. Then she started pointing out little things that she and the Super Samaritan had in common.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Avery, honey, why don’t you take daddy outside, show him what you can do with your arm.”

     They walked out the door, looking out at the ocean. She stood in front of him.

     “Give me your hand,” she said. He reached for her hand, holding it gingerly.

     “Ready?”

     “Ready for what?” he said, his look of fear turning into a huge smile as daughter pulled father into the air, rocketing away. They soared along the coast, breaking the speed of sound with their laughter, his heart weightless as he saw the world around him with a new set of eyes.