The bus began to roll, heading into the sprawling suburbs surrounding the school. After several minutes, Jared heard Shannon stifle a sob. “Are you all right?” he asked before he realized what he was doing.
Shannon, who was clearly fighting back tears, smiled strangely. She pressed the pause button on her iPod and plucked one of the earbuds from her ear. “I’m fine,” she said, with just a touch of amusement in her voice. “I’m listening to an audio book…Bridge to Terabithia. It’s really sad.”
“I read that book,” said Jared. “It was sad.”
Both Jared and Shannon stared at the seat in front of them, saying nothing. At least she didn’t tell me to drop dead, he thought. “Well, sorry to bother you,” he said after the silence grew uncomfortable.
“It’s okay,” said Shannon. She sounded nervous. “It was sweet of you to…” She looked away, her cheeks flushing pink.
Jared glanced out the window and noticed Carmel Baptist Church, which marked the halfway point of his ride home. I wish this ride would last forever, he thought as Shannon shifted beside him.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
“Nightwing.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“He was the original Robin. When he grew up, he became his own man and…” Jared realized how geeky he sounded and stopped talking.
Shannon smiled, and Jared’s heart leapt into his throat. “Go on. What were you saying?”
“He…he became his own man and took on a new identity. He and Batman had some father/son issues for a while, but they got over it.”
Shannon nodded as if she understood. “Did you see Batman Begins?”
“Yeah.”
“I kept thinking about something after saw that movie. Here’s a guy who saw his parents get murdered. A tragedy to say the least, but to Bruce Wayne, it becomes an obsession. He spends every waking moment with one image in his head—the dead bodies of his parents. When he becomes a man, what kind of man is he?” Shannon paused. “He’s a monster. He can’t have normal relationships with people because they might find out his secret. He doesn’t even like other people; he can’t relate to them, and they can’t relate to him. Batman isn’t the mask he wears; the mask is Bruce Wayne.”
“You just described the plot of most of the Batman comics from the past 20 years.” Jared smiled uncontrollably. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Shannon White. She’s so hot!
“Here’s what I wonder,” Shannon continued. “What do you think Bruce Wayne’s parents would have wanted for their son? Do you think they’d be happy to know that their only child spent his life obsessed with the tragedy of their deaths?” She shook her head. “They would have wanted him to be happy, to meet a nice girl, and settle down.”
“Like Spiderman?”
“Yeah. Spiderman has it together, and he’s cute in a geeky kind of way.”
The bus stopped and half a dozen kids stood up. “This is my stop,” Jared said. “I…it was nice to…to talk with you.”
“You, too,” said Shannon. She was biting her lower lip.
“Hope you have a good Christmas.” Jared shoved Nightwing back into his bag and rose to his feet.
“Merry Christmas,” said Shannon. She slid out of the way, allowing Jared to pass.
As he climbed from the bus and began the short walk to his house, Jared felt the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Smiling for the first time in weeks, he turned into his driveway and headed to the front door.
Later that night, as Jared was checking his email, he saw a message from an address he didn’t recognize. Normally, he would have just deleted the message, but he simple couldn’t ignore the subject line: RE: The Paladin.
Jared opened the email and quickly read the cryptic message. Thursday night. 8:30. Meet me in the tunnel under Seldon Island Road.
• • •
Every kid in Carmel knows about the tunnel under Seldon Island Road. It’s a huge, concrete monstrosity that allows some nameless little creek to pass under the road. The tunnel has been a refuge and a hideout to kids ever since it was built. It’s the kind of place where middle-schoolers meet to have fights and high-schoolers meet to make out.
I was ready for a fight when I arrived at the tunnel. As happy as my conversation with Shannon had made me, it was nothing compared to how happy I thought I would be once I brought the people responsible for Nick’s murder to justice.
Detective West was already in the tunnel, waiting for me. He wore a heavy wool overcoat and had a scarf tied around his neck. “Hey kid,” he said. “Glad you could make it. Are you ready to beat the bad guys?”
I frowned at him, my muscles trembling beneath my Paladin costume. I pulled my cape tightly around my shoulders, but it was no replacement for a winter coat.
“According to my source, the Deputy-Mayor is having a business meeting in his house tomorrow night,” West said, dispensing with any pleasantries. “You’re going to crash the party. Are you with me so far?”
I nodded.
“He lives on King Street…number 52, the big white house. Here, I drew you a map.” He handed me a folded piece of paper that I stuffed into a pocket of my cargo pants. “Dixon’s bedroom is in back of the house, on the second floor—I think that’s probably your best point of entry. The room will probably be empty during the meeting, and that should buy you a little bit of time to get yourself situated before you have to start fighting.”
“Probably?”
West ignored my comment. “The house is rigged with a state-of-the-art security system. As soon as you break the glass, the alarm company will call the house and hear all the commotion you’re stirring up. Right after that, they’ll place a 911 call and my officers will be dispatched to the scene.”
“How long will I have before the cops arrive?”
“Five minutes. No more than ten.”
I thought about it for a minute. “How the hell am I supposed to break through a window on the second floor?”
“There’s a huge maple tree right next to the house,” said West. “Just climb up the tree…”
“Then what? Jump across the gap like Superman? Are you trying to get me killed?”
The detective stared at me, frustration on his face. “You know that I’m not.” He smiled. “I brought you Christmas presents. You should be able to put these to good use.” He handed me a backpack.
“What’s in here?” I asked.
“Check it out.”
I opened the pack and found several items that even Robin would have envied. Detective West had provided a taser wand and a grapnel gun. “You want me to swing across the Deputy-Mayor’s back yard like Batman?”
“You are wearing a mask and a cape.”
“This plan sounds pretty stupid,” I said. “It’s been weeks. Couldn’t you come up with something better?”
“These things are all about timing,” West said. “I just got this tip yesterday. Besides, I don’t think you’re any stranger to dangerous situations. Here, let me show you how to use that stuff.”
I removed both items from the bag and West instructed me on their basic operation. “What about Griffon?” I asked after a few minutes. “Any word?”
West turned to me, a look of deadly seriousness in his eyes. “I have every reason to believe that Griffon will be there tomorrow.”
“What if he is there? Are the cops just going to let him walk away again?”
I’m sure Detective West could see the hatred in my face. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he leaned close to me. “I’m leaving his fate up to you,” he said. “But I want you to think about it before you decide to sink to his level. You don’t want to be a killer, Jared. Once you walk down that road, there’s no coming back.”
“Are you saying that you won’t arrest me if I give that bastard what he deserves?”
West took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Just don’t do anything stupid. You’re a good kid. Maybe if this all
works out, you can help me out again.” He walked me to the end of the tunnel. “You’ve got all day tomorrow; why don’t you come back down here and practice with your new toys?”
“Sure,” I muttered. “I’ll do that.” I stepped from the tunnel and never looked back. As I raced home, my only thoughts were of vengeance.
• • •
The home of Edmund Dixon was one of the most beautiful mansions in Carmel. Built in the 1920s, the house stood out in drastic contrast to the Victorian homes that lined the rest of King Street. Three stories tall with a flat roof and two chimneys, the structure was an ivory tower that symbolized the American Dream to most of the residents of the historic town.
To the Paladin, standing in a tree in the Deputy-Mayor’s back yard, the house represented everything that was wrong with Carmel, with the United States, with the world.
Twenty feet above the ground, Jared closed his eyes and said a little prayer to his brother’s ghost. “Help me get through this,” he whispered into the night. “Help me make things right.”
He opened his eyes. The time for praying and planning was done; now was the time for vengeance. Moving silently, the Paladin unzipped his backpack and removed the grapnel gun. He took aim, bracing his shaking right hand with his left, and fired at the roof of Dixon’s house. The grapnel coiled around a pipe protruding from the roof. After several stiff tugs, Jared was sure that the line wasn’t coming loose. “Now or never,” he whispered. Then he wrapped the line twice around his wrists, drew his hood low over his face, and leapt out of the tree.
The Paladin’s cape rippled behind him as he swung across the open expanse. Glass exploded into the room as he crashed, feet first, through the Deputy-Mayor’s window. Jared was barely able to keep his balance, yet he somehow managed to land on his feet. He shook off hundreds of tiny shards of glass, thankful that his hood and long clothing had protected him from all but a handful of minor scratches. Jared looped his rope over the bedpost as he surveyed Dixon’s bedroom. The room was opulent, with a king-sized bed, a huge flat-panel TV, and ornate furniture.
“What in the hell is going on up there?”
The Paladin drew the taser wand from his utility belt and flattened himself against the wall next to the door. Moments later, a gigantic man in an expensive suit flung the door open and entered the room. The Paladin pressed the button on the taser, twisted around, and jabbed the wand into the giant’s chest. The man stiffened, his hair stood on end, and he collapsed to the ground, twitching.
Jared slipped into the hallway just as two more thugs came rushing up the stairs. Before they could react, the Paladin hit the closer of the two with his taser. The man collapsed backward into his partner; both men tumbled down the stairs and crashed through a railing into the main foyer. They lay unconscious on the ceramic tile floor.
Griffon rushed into view, his gun drawn, before Jared could duck out of sight. The gangster glared at him, and fired up the stairs. The Paladin rolled out of the way just as a bullet splintered the doorframe of one of the spare bedrooms.
Inside the darkened bedroom, the Paladin waited as Griffon clomped up the stairs. He paused at the top, just a few inches away, on the other side of the wall. He was so close that Jared could hear his labored breathing. The Paladin fingered the button of the taser. A second later, both combatants spun into the open doorway. Griffon, his gun raised, fired into the bedroom, but the Paladin had ducked low, and the shot zipped over his head. Crouched at Griffon’s waist, the Paladin saw his chance and took it. He jabbed his taser wand into the gangster’s ribs and pressed the button. Electricity jolted through Griffon, who collapsed to his knees, his pistol clattering to the floor.
The Paladin rose, tucking the taser back into his utility belt. As he did, he noticed the dagger sheathed at Griffon’s side. An image of Nick’s mutilated body exploded in Jared’s mind. All of the rage and hatred that had been building in him since his brother’s death overflowed the banks of his self-control, and before Jared knew what he was doing, he grabbed Griffon’s dagger. Lifting it high over his head with both hands, the Paladin stood over his fallen opponent. “Now you pay for what you did to my brother,” he said. But before he could strike a killing blow, Shannon’s sweet green eyes and pretty smile floated in the air before him.
He hesitated. What am I doing? This bastard deserves death…deserves to die, to drown in his own blood…but if I do this, then what? I become the Punisher and spend the rest of my life creeping around in the shadows stalking thugs and gangsters. What would my mother think? The Marauders already turned one of her kids into a corpse; now they’re about to turn the other into a murderer. And Shannon? She’ll hate me once she finds out what a monster I’ve become.
As the Paladin’s mind teetered on the edge of a knife, Griffon began to regain control of his trembling muscles. While his opponent’s attention was momentarily diverted, the Marauder drove his foot into Jared’s crotch. The Paladin dropped the dagger and collapsed, holding himself in agony.
Rising, Griffon snatched up the dagger, grabbed Jared by the hair, and dragged him to his knees. In desperation, Jared grabbed Griffon’s wrist with both hands and bit down as hard as he could. The gangster screamed and stepped backward, letting go of the Paladin’s hair. Jared, operating on pure adrenaline, staggered to his feet and rushed Griffon. They collided at the top of the staircase, and before either could grab a handhold, they both went careening down the stairs. They landed in the foyer, right on top of the unconscious gangsters Jared had dispensed with earlier. There was a terrible crack as the back of Griffon’s head smacked against the tile floor.
Bruised and battered but otherwise uninjured, the Paladin was the first to his feet. Fury still burning in his veins, he leapt on top of Griffon’s prone form and began throwing wild punches at the man responsible for his brother’s death. “I hate you,” Jared screamed. “You son-of-a-bitch, I hate you.”
Griffon held his arms over his face, attempting to block the assault, but finally the Paladin was able to land a solid blow to his enemy’s face. Blood sprayed as Griffon’s nose exploded. Jared, now almost feral with rage, couldn’t stop himself—he kept punching until Griffon’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed against the floor in a broken, bloodied heap.
Finally, panting with exhaustion, the Paladin ceased his attack. He checked Griffon’s pulse; he was still alive. His bloodlust subsiding, Jared made his decision. “I’m not going to become like you,” he said. “You murdered my brother, but I’m not going to let you destroy my life. You can rot in prison for all I care, but I’m never going to think about you again.”
Jared stood, began to turn around, and froze. A small-framed man with thinning hair stood in the foyer, a pistol trained on the Paladin. Somewhere in the distance, Jared heard a wailing noise that might have been a police siren.
“Turn around, Batboy,” said the Deputy-Mayor, “and don’t try anything stupid. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you make me.” He cocked his pistol’s hammer to emphasize his point.
The Paladin, who was desperately retrieving a flash bomb from his utility belt, had no choice but to comply. He closed his eyes, turned, and in one fluid motion released the flash bomb in his right hand. The tiny ball exploded on impact, filling the room with blinding light.
“What the…”
Opening his eyes, Jared saw Edmund Dixon still standing before him, momentarily stunned. The flash bought the Paladin only a few seconds, but that was enough. He rushed at the Deputy-Mayor and knocked the pistol from his hand. Jared followed through with the attack, spinning around and delivering a solid elbow to Dixon’s jaw.
The Deputy-Mayor went down hard, but Jared did not relent. He grabbed Dixon by the collar and dragged him into a sitting position. “You’re about to pay for your crimes, asshole.” The Paladin hocked and spat in the politician’s face.
Edmund Dixon snorted bitterly, his eyes burning with hatred. He opened his mouth, revealing two rows of bloody teeth. “I’m going to wal
k away from this situation looking like the victim,” he said. “And you’re going to be the most wanted criminal in Carmel.”
Jared tried not to show his emotions, but the words stung deeply. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The people of this town need someone like me. They need someone with the balls to stand up against corrupt politicians…”
Dixon laughed. “You’re so naive. There’s someone like me in every town in the United States. Don’t give me that holier-than-thou bullshit.”
I should teach him a lesson, Jared thought. He drew back a fist, ready to punch the Deputy-Mayor again, but he was struck with a sudden horrible revelation. He’s right. I don’t prove anything by beating him up. Sure, it makes the pain of Nick’s death go away for a few seconds, but what good has the Paladin done for Carmel? Because of me, the Majestic is in ruins, a couple of cars are in the body shop, and some of low-level crooks spent a few nights in jail. I would have done more good for my town by volunteering at the library.
Edmund Dixon stared at the Paladin, his face a mask of disgust. “Real life isn’t like the funny books, punk. If I weren’t in the picture, it would just be someone else. That’s how the real world works.”
“Well, the real world sucks! It shouldn’t…” Before he could finish speaking, the front door of the Deputy-Mayor’s house shuttered with the force of a police officer’s kick. Abandoning his sermon, the Paladin leapt over the prone bodies of the Marauders and raced up the stairs to the second floor. He heard the door cave in as he slipped through the darkness into Dixon’s bedroom, stepping over the first man he had dispatched.
“He’s upstairs!” Dixon shouted. “Get him!” Heavy footsteps started up the stairs.
His heart thundering, Jared grabbed his rope and climbed through the empty window into the night. He scurried down the line, letting go just a few feet from the ground. Here I go again, Jared though as he landed in Dixon’s boxwoods.
It's A Bird! It's A Plane! Page 10