Pretty Much Invincible

by Carey, Stephen

  “Why do we have to go, Dad?” Sally asked. “We could stay here and we could all help each other.”

  “No,” Shane replied. “It’s not safe enough.”

  Sally looked at the old couple. “They have done OK so far.”

  “Yes... so far. We need to find somewhere... like before.” Shane picked up the gun. “How many bedrooms in this place?” he asked Jonathan.

  “Four.”

  “OK. Me and Sally are going to share a room.”

  Sally pulled down her goggles and smiled. “Do you like comic books?” she asked Jimmy.

  He just shook his head and looked away. Sally’s smile faded. She longed for a conversation with someone close to her own age. It was clear that she was not going to get anything out of Jimmy.

  ---

  The next morning, Jonathan came in through the broken door of the farmhouse and approached Shane and Sally at the kitchen table. Shane and Sally were eating out of tins as Martha did the dishes.

  “I’m sorry,” Jonathan said, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. “There’s not a whole lot I can do for you. Car’s pretty fucked.”

  Neither Sally nor Martha approved of the bad language, but they both let it slide.

  Shane finished the last of his tinned beans and looked up at Jonathan. “Nothing you can do?”

  “No. Sorry.” The old man was just as disappointed as Shane—he wanted them gone as soon as possible.

  Shane’s reaction was not as severe as Jonathan was expecting. “OK,” Shane said dully. He thought for a moment. “What about your car?”

  “What about it?”

  Shane stood and faced the old man. “You have two cars parked at the side of your house. We could take one of them.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “You don’t need two cars.”

  Jonathan contained his anger. “Don’t tell us what we do and don’t need. We let you sleep in our beds—”

  “You didn’t let us do anything!”

  There was a long, tense silence. If giving up a car was going to rid of these strangers, maybe Jonathan would be willing to pay that price. “Fine,” the old man grunted. “Take the car and fuck off.”

  “Watch your mouth!” Shane growled.

  Don’t let the old bastard speak to you like that! You can do whatever you want to whoever you want. He better be careful.

  “I can push the car, Dad” Sally said, hoping everyone would calm down. “I’ll push it to the next place. It’s OK.”

  “No,” Shane snapped. “What this old fool doesn’t understand is... we can take whatever we want—and most people in this world would. They would take whatever without even asking. We could take both cars, all your food, anything we wanted—easy.” Shane took a breath. “All we’re asking for is one of your goddamn cars... so we can move on.”

  “But you’re not asking. Are you?” Jonathan angrily threw the dirty rag to the floor. “Take the damn car. Get out of my home.”

  Sally stood and shot an apologetic glance toward Martha who was just staring like a zombie, wiping her hands with a cloth. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go,” Sally said. This would have been a nice place to stay for a while, but... her father was right, they had to find a group, like before. A group lead by a man like Bruce.

  Outside, Sally and Shane took all the supplies from their car, and put them into the vehicle Jonathan was willing to give up (no choice). The old man’s car was not much to look at, but at least it would get them to the next location. Sally looked up at one of the open bedroom windows and spotted Jimmy. The boy was just staring down at the ground outside. When Jimmy noticed Sally looking, he quickly shut the window.

  Sally hoped that the boy and the old couple would be OK. She put her goggles down over her eyes, and got into the car.

  ---

  The grass was dying, the tress also. Birds fell from the gloomy sky. Ha! It was raining birds. Tweet, tweet, dead meat. Humans turned inhuman—chewing on each other’s limbs. Yum, former buddy tasted good with beans and rice. Pass them the ear of dog. Man’s best friend—man’s best meal that week. Good boy, goodbye—into the pot you go.

  Put on your Sunday best as you pray to...

  God help us all.

  Chaos all around—more inbound. Hit the ground. Run and hide, little mouse—don’t be found. You hear that? The beginning of the end. Well done, humans, you went and pissed someone off. Someone all-powerful. Almighty... all-pissed.

  Shake their hand and then gnaw on their fingers. Survive. Survive the end. But why? The end is the end and there will be nothing left. Just roll over and die already. Don’t prolong this hell. A hellish experience, every time your eyes open. Shut your eyes, do not open them ever again.

  Embrace the end. Friend.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sally’s eyes shot open as the car went over a pothole.

  “I thought you said you weren’t tired?” Shane smirked.

  “I’m not. Not really. Just wanted to rest my eyes for a bit. Didn’t sleep too well last night.” She lowered her goggles and rubbed her tired eyes. “Dad, how many people do you think are left in the world?” She looked out her window, at the dying grass, dreading what the response might be.

  It was not something that Shane wanted to think about too much. “I don’t know.”

  Obviously he couldn’t know for sure. Sally lowered her head. “If you had to guess. How many? A few million? A few thousand?”

  “Sally... I really don’t know.”

  “One day, people will look back on all this and they will think how crazy it all was. They will find it hard to believe that it actually happened.”

  Maybe it did not actually happen, Shane thought. Maybe it was just all a terrible nightmare. Wake up, Shane, you were having an awful nightmare. Yeah, keep dreaming. Keep dreaming that this is all just a nightmare.

  Sally was imagining kids in a classroom learning about all of this. Would she be an old woman brought into a class to talk abut her experience? She could talk to them about everything she had been through... and all the kids would feel so lucky to have such a good life in comparison. All their mouths would be wide open as they listened to the horror Sally and her father (and so many more) had to endure. She would get lots of questions from the fascinated students—all hands in the air. Everyone would have something they just had to ask. Then, at the very end, Sally would demonstrate her incredible powers.

  When Sally ceased her daydreaming, she realised she needed to go to the bathroom. Or field, in this case. “Dad, I need to pee.”

  “OK, sweetheart.” Shane slowed the car and then stopped on the side of the road. “Don’t be long.”

  “I won’t,” Sally said, getting out of the car.

  She walked into the long, greying grass, holding her red cape out like wings. It was difficult to imagine a superhero in a comic book going to the toilet (never mind pissing in a field). As she stared at the dying grass, little Sally wondered if she was being stupid, thinking the world would ever recover from this. No, it was not stupid to have hope. She would not allow herself to entertain the possibility that this was the end of... everything.

  It can’t be.

  The world would recover, she was (almost) sure of it. Heroes never give up hope!

  When she was done urinating in the long grass, Sally heard a sound. A scream? A man’s scream, coming from the trees. Then she could see him, flailing his arms wildly as he ran in her direction. Sally stared as the man came closer and closer. A barking dog was then in view—gaining on the terrified man. The dog wanted blood.

  Sally had to act. She sprinted past the fleeing man, and was soon between him and the dog. Sally had inadvertently knocked over the man when she had zoomed by him. Sitting up on his elbows, the man fixed his eyes on the unnaturally fast little girl.

  The large, ferocious dog leaped into the air and bit down on Sally’s forearm—doing no harm. “Stop it!” Sally yelled as the dog thrashed around, refusing to release her. “Get off me!” Sally then
swung her arm and accidentally sent the dog flying through the air.

  The dog landed over five hundred meters away and let out a loud yelp.

  Guilt rose up inside Sally. “Crap,” she mumbled to herself. Poor dog.

  Then Sally realised a man, near the trees, was watching her. Scowling, Sally stormed over to the man, who looked a little bit like a cowboy from an old western movie. The cowboy’s mouth hung open—this little girl had flung his dog through the air!

  The cowboy raised his rifle and yelled, “Don’t move!” He looked the girl up and down. “How the hell did you do that? My dog!”

  Shane was looking on from the car. He took his pistol out of the glove compartment and lowered himself.

  “I’m Super Sally!” She held up her fists. “And you are going to let that man go!”

  “Super... Sally?” The cowboy said.

  “Yes! And super strength isn’t all I have. Your bullets are useless against me!” She shot a finger at the cowboy. “Turn around and go away!”

  “I can’t do that.” His eyes narrowed. “Super strength?”

  “You’re damn right super strength!” She flexed her little biceps and then began to move closer to the puzzled cowboy. “You ever read a comic book?”

  The cowboy, a man in his late forties, nodded nervously. “A few. When I was young.”

  “Well, I’m like a superhero from a comic book. I’m not going to let you harm that man.” She glanced at the man who had fled from the dog—he was now on his feet, staring at the cowboy, his forehead covered in sweat.

  The cowboy roared, “If you run, Luke, I’ll shoot you in the back!”

  “You’re going to kill me anyway,” Luke yelled back. “Might as well take my chances.”

  “I won’t kill you... if I don’t have to.”

  “Fuck you, Clint!” Luke roared.

  “Could we all just stop with the bad language!” Sally yelled. “I can’t let you hurt this man,” she said to Clint.

  “This man hurt people I care about.” Clint spoke nice and loud so that Luke could hear every word.

  “What did he do?” Sally asked.

  “He lied. He stole. He manipulated people.”

  Sally shook her head. “That’s hardly worth killing someone over.”

  “I was just trying to survive, like everyone else,” Luke shouted.

  With fury in his eyes, Clint yelled, “His actions caused the deaths of...” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “He’s coming with me, girl. Step aside.”

  As Sally was deciding what to do next, Luke abruptly turned and ran toward the road. Clint immediately took a shot. The bullet tore through Luke’s thigh—he dropped.

  Sally sprinted at Clint. The cowboy wasn’t prepared to shoot a little girl. Sally grabbed the rifle and pulled it out of Clint’s hands. Once more, he was stunned by her strength and speed.

  “Go!” Sally yelled. “Get out of here!”

  Without protest, Clint took a few steps back, turned, and ran—disappearing into the trees. What the hell is she?

  Sally swiftly ran over to Luke and helped him up off the ground. “Wanna piggyback?” she asked him.

  “What?”

  “I’m really strong as you have seen. Hop on my back and I’ll take you over to the car.”

  Luke hopped on her back, half-expecting her to buckle under his weight. But she held him, easy. She carried him over to the car and set him down. Luke leaned against the car to keep himself up.

  Shane opened his door and got out, pistol in hand. Sally said, “His leg is hurt real bad.”

  “I can see that.” Shane glanced at the wound. “We can spare some bandages.”

  “Can you take me with you?” Luke asked.

  “No, sorry,” Shane replied. “But we can—”

  “Come on, Dad,” Sally said. “We can’t leave him like this.”

  “We don’t know him, Sally!”

  “Obviously. We won’t know anyone we come across. Please...”

  “No,” Shane said firmly. “We’ll fix him up as best we can, maybe give him some supplies. Then he’s on his own.”

  Sally couldn’t let it go. “Dad, we can’t...”

  “Sally,” Shane said, his voice softer now. “We can’t help everyone.” Shane looked Luke in the eyes, he did not believe this man was truly innocent. But then, who was?

  “If you leave me here, like this... I’m as good as dead,” Luke said, face like a scared child.

  Suppressing his guilt (what little there was), Shane opened the back door of the car to look for some bandages.

  If Luke wanted to live, he had to act—and fast. He lunged for Shane and they both fell to the ground, wrestling for the pistol. Sally grabbed Luke by his mop of black hair and pulled him off of her father. She held Luke by the hair as Shane got to his feet. Luke could do nothing to break the girl’s superhuman grip.

  Furious, Shane roared, “Fuck you! We try to help, and you... you try to kill us!”

  “I wasn’t going to kill you,” Luke said, on his knees, Sally maintaining the firm grip on his hair. “You can’t leave me here like this! I’m a dead man if you do!”

  After a tense silence, Shane said, “Don’t let him move, Sally.” He reached into the back seat and searched for the bandages. Found them. He turned to Luke. “Take these and get lost.” He threw the bandages to the ground.

  “Please, don’t leave me,” Luke begged.

  Sally did not like this. But her father had made up his mind. She handed Shane the hunting rifle. “Got us another gun.”

  Shane examined the gun in his hands, and nodded. “Good girl.”

  ---

  A hero does whatever they can to help others. They never quit, they never give up hope. There is always a way to save the day.

  Always?

  Always a way—away you go!

  Always? Seems pretty fucking unreasonable.

  ---

  TALES OF THE SUPERIOR HEROES #88:

  Last year, I saved an innocent person from certain doom. Turns out they were not so innocent and they later killed a group of innocent children. So I went back in time... to stop myself from saving the not-so-innocent person before he could kill the innocent children. I did not have to let the not-so-innocent person die—I could have solved the problem without anyone dying. But that was the choice I made and I was willing to live with it. Maybe I just didn’t like the idea of me saving such an evil man, so I wanted it erased from history.

  Soon after, I got a call from another superhero buddy of mine. She tells me that what I did, stopping myself from saving someone else, was the same as murder. There would be consequences. I laughed. That was bullshit, I told her. How could I be punished for such a thing? It was ridiculous.

  She was dead serious. The same as murder... apparently.

  So I said, “OK, then. The machine can send me to the past one more time—and one more time only. I can, if you wish, go back and stop myself from stopping myself? I will allow myself to save the villain. It would be like it never happened.”

  “No,” she said, “All those children would be killed!”

  They would, of course. Obviously, she declined the offer. So then I said, “I’m off the hook?”

  Nope. I was not. Why the hell not? I was willing to undo my mistake. So, why must I be punished? She told me that that would not change the fact that I had done it in the first place. “Heroes save lives, even the lives of evil people.” I stopped someone from being saved, and that was the same as murder—in her eyes. She would not budge.

  They came for me, my fellow heroes. They locked me away for my crime. A few months later, it was discovered that the innocent children that should have been killed by the villain... were actually evil clones. Evil clones that became a serious threat to the entire world! The clones, diabolical little creatures, had figured out a way to prevent time travel—rendering my time machine useless!

  Well... not quite. Because my machine had already sent me back to the
time I stopped myself from saving the villain, it made it possible to travel back to that point in time again—and only that point. And the trip would be extremely brief.

  So, the heroes used my time machine to go back in time and stop me from saving the villain who then went on to kill the evil clones—the clones he thought were innocent children.

  Where does that leave me? Locked away for a crime that—strictly speaking—never actually happened!

  Up, up, and locked away.

  CHAPTER 8

  Pretty cold, leaving a man to die on the side of the road. Although, it was not certain that he would die. Sally imagined Luke fixing himself up and limping to somewhere safe. Safe? Right. Nowhere was safe, unless you were part of a big group of (relatively sane) people.

  Sally took off her goggles, placed them on her lap, and said, “What if...?” She stopped herself from completing that sentence.

  “What?” Shane mumbled as he watched the road.

  She lowered her hood. “Nothing.” Do not even think it. Heroes do not give up hope. They would find somewhere. Things would be just like they had been with Bruce and Mom, and the world would begin to repair itself. Never doubt it.

  The car slowly came to a halt. Sally noticed her father staring at something in the distance. “What is it?” she asked. She angled her head so that she could see past her father.

  Them!

  “Cannibals,” Shane said, more angry than scared.

  Three cannibals in a field full of dying grass. One was sitting on the roof of a jeep (cannibal logo painted onto the side), another had a baseball bat in his hands, and the third one was preparing to throw a dead crow. The cannibal threw the crow and the man with the baseball bat swung for it. He managed to hit the crow quite a distance. Dead-bird baseball. The group of cannibals laughed out loud.

  “Let’s go,” Sally said. “Before they see us.”

  Shane did not move.

  “Dad?” Sally said, wondering what was going on in her father’s head.

  He shut off the engine and turned to Sally. “We should do something.”

  “What do you mean?”