Hero

by Perry Moore

  We invited her to lunch so we could ask her a few questions about her illustrious relative. During the meal, she kept probing us for information about his will and how much money he had left. Apparently she'd only seen him a handful of times in the past thirty years, but she knew she was his closest blood relative. She accidentally spit a small glob of sloppy joe on Scarlett's hand when we told her we didn't know anything about Captain Victory's estate.

  "Sorry," she said, and offered Scarlett a napkin.

  Larry offered her an antacid, but she refused. Ruth returned from the lunch line with a warm plate of chocolate-chip cookies.

  "Oh no, I couldn't possibly—well, maybe just one."

  I deliberately reached for a cookie at the same time so our hands would touch. Once I had contact, I sensed a deep anxiety within her; her heartbeat quickened, and I wondered if she was hiding something or if the palpitations were just a result of a bad diet.

  "Are you sure there's not anything else you could tell us?" I asked. "Any detail would help, no matter how small you think it is."

  The great-grandniece chewed on her cookie and thought long and hard. Then she leaned forward in her seat.

  "Fine, you got me." The rest of us perked up. "The last time I went to visit him," she said, "he told me I wasn't in the will at all."

  King of the Sea had a brother who ran a successful pet shop in the city by the seaport. As soon as we walked into the shop, the customers whipped around to check out our costumes. Ruth found the brother working behind the counter, and we took our places at the end of the line.

  When we finally made it to the front, King of the Sea's brother didn't look up from the puppy chow.

  "So what'll it be?"

  I introduced myself and our group and asked him if we could borrow a second of his time. He looked at the long line of customers behind us. Then he took a beat to recognize my face from the news.

  "Get out of my store."

  That was it for the day. We piled into Ruth's car, and on the way back I told the gang we'd meet up first thing in the morning and continue down the list. I told them not to be discouraged, this was part of the process. We might have to get through a lot of people who didn't have information before we got to the people who did.

  Larry sighed loudly as we pulled into the parking lot. Golden Boy hopped out and raced over to open the door for Scarlett before the car had even come to a full stop.

  "I can let myself out, thank you," Scarlett said, and then she blew right past him and went to her own car. It was almost hard not to feel a little sorry for Golden Boy.

  Almost.

  The house was dark when I got home. Dad was out again. It smelled like the neighbors had been burning leaves, which I thought was strange because it was the wrong time of year for that. I walked up the driveway, and inside, I turned on the front porch light for when Dad got home. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

  The front yard, illuminated by the porch light, had been torched. Deliberately. The burned pattern left a message.

  YOU'RE NEXT, FAGGOT.

  I dragged the thatch through the yard in the middle of the night. My hands ended up blistered and bleeding, but that would be small potatoes for my healing powers. I wanted to finish the job before Dad got home.

  The wind rustled in the trees, and I looked up and saw shadows moving. Could have been a cape, could have been a tree branch, could have been nothing.

  "Bring it on," I said out loud to the wind, out loud to whoever left the message. Bring it on.

  I got up the next morning before dawn to get an early start with the rest of the group. Dad still wasn't home yet from his shift. I caught the bus to Ruth's place and rang the doorbell at the front door of her townhouse. I heard a dog bark next door. She didn't answer. I knocked hard on the door, but she still didn't answer. Suddenly I got nervous and raised my foot to kick the door in; then I noticed her car across the parking lot.

  The old engine was thrumming, so she couldn't hear anything. I walked over and tapped on the windshield and flashed her my best early morning smile.

  "Who wants to capture a villain today?" I said, and held up two fresh cups of take-out coffee I'd picked up on the way.

  Ruth jerked her head around; she hadn't seen me until now. Her mascara ran tiny black rivulets through the deep crevices in her face. She'd been crying.

  I rushed over to the passenger side and hopped in.

  She sniffled and wiped her nose on her elegant sleeve. It was then I noticed she was dressed to the nines.

  "Wow," I said, referring to her dress. "What's that?"

  "Vintage Chanel," Ruth said, and smiled weakly. The red of her dress matched her lipstick. "A girl doesn't need a specific reason to look her best, does she?"

  I shook my head no. I guess not. Still, I wondered when the last time had been that she had worn that dress, and what had been the occasion? When had been the last time she had danced? And when she danced, did she think of her poor, lost fiance?

  "Give me the coffee," she said, and grabbed it from me, cupped it in her hands, and took a long sip. "Here, hold this." She tossed her makeup bag into my lap and adjusted the mirror to see herself. "I've got to put my face back on before we see the others."

  She reached over and pulled out a cleansing pad and wiped the dark smudges off her face. She swabbed at her cheeks with so much force that I thought she was trying to smooth out her wrinkles. I wanted to say something to comfort her, but I'd learned that sometimes it's just as good to sit by someone's side, just to let them know you're there.

  "Hand me my base."

  She looked into the mirror at her face. The makeup brush shook in her fingers. She didn't know where to begin.

  "Ruth," I finally said, "what's going on?"

  "I'm a little tired, that's all. I've been up all night. Writing."

  "I didn't know you were a writer."

  "I'm not." She snuffled and lit a cigarette off the car lighter. "Now, be a lamb and put those in the mailbox for me." She pointed her thumb hitchhiker-like toward the backseat.

  I turned around and saw neat piles of carefully sealed letters in the backseat of her sedan.

  As I walked to the mailbox at the end of her sidewalk, I wondered what had made her break down like this. Had she seen something in the future? Did she know about the message I'd found waiting for me in the yard? Whatever it was, I wasn't going to get it out of her. She clung to this one herself. Whatever it was, it was hers and hers alone to carry.

  After I'd filled the mailbox with all the letters, I hopped back into the car.

  "Thanks," she said, and revved up the engine.

  I strapped on the seat belt and noticed Ruth wasn't wearing hers. "Ruth," I said, "seat belt."

  "Don't worry about it." She put the car in drive and sped off in her vintage red Chanel.

  We met up with the rest of the team and spent the entire day talking to near relatives and close friends of the deceased heroes. Unfortunately, we hit five more dead ends in a row. One of the relatives, a groundskeeper for a state-run golf course, actually sprayed his water hose at us.

  Still wet, we piled into Ruth's car.

  "I'm gonna say one thing and one thing only," Golden Boy announced. "This is all a big waste of time."

  Nobody said anything, and the silence stretched out for a long time. My plan wasn't yielding results, and the troops were getting restless. Scarlett looked exhausted. She glanced at her watch.

  "I've got chemo at five, and a mani-pedi after that, so let's make this the last one for today." She rested her head against the window and closed her eyes to catch a nap on the way.

  We'd learned that our next target, the Spectrum's daughter, was working at an elementary school fair sponsored by the PTA, so we crashed it. Ruth asked a PTA member if she knew the person we were looking for, and we were directed to the bake sale. A concerned group of parents looked at our costumes curiously, and a few minutes later I saw them sidle up and whisper to a security guard.
We found the bake sale. To break the ice, I thought it was a good idea to buy a whole tray of Rice Krispies Treats. I offered them to my teammates, who took one apiece, somewhat halfheartedly.

  Golden Boy hesitated before he took a bite of his square. He looked off to the trees on the outskirts of the school.

  "What's up?" I asked.

  He looked around the fair, past the student raffle, past the moonwalk, craning his neck in all directions.

  "Nothing," he said, although he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

  The woman behind the bake-sale counter was busy counting money. She thanked me for our generous contribution and asked if we wouldn't like to try the lemon bars.

  "Actually," I said, "we wanted to talk to you for a minute."

  She put down her wad of dollar bills.

  "You want to talk to me?"

  "Yes," I said. "It's about your father."

  She went back to counting her bills.

  "I've talked to enough of you people already. Please, if you'll excuse me."

  Larry suddenly coughed up his Rice Krispies square into the trash can. "Jeez, how much butter did you put in these things?"

  Scarlett elbowed him in the gut. I noticed Golden Boy was looking off in the distance again.

  Ruth stepped in. "You know, I think I will try those lemon bars. How many can I get for a twenty?" She handed the Spectrum's daughter a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

  "I already told you, I have nothing to say. I'd appreciate it if you left me alone now."

  She turned to go, but I put my hand gently on her shoulder.

  "We're very sorry about your father. He was a great man, and we want to honor his memory by stopping whoever did this from doing it again."

  Her eyes darted around the fair, like she didn't want anyone to see her talking to us.

  "My father's identity was secret; you have no right to be here." She leaned forward and whispered, "I don't want my children to find out."

  "That your dad was one of the world's greatest heroes?" Ruth asked. "Funny, I'd be proud of it."

  The woman's face dropped and she stared at the lemon bars, lost in her thoughts. "I am very proud of my father," she corrected Ruth. "It's not that at all—"

  "Guys, something's not right," Golden Boy said. "I'm gonna do a quick loop around the school."

  Scarlett smacked Golden Boy hard on the shoulder.

  "What the fuck is your problem? This dumb woman was finally about to talk and now you fucked it up!" She swatted him again.

  "Cut it out," Golden Boy said under his breath, and backed away.

  "Easy," Ruth said. "We got an audience."

  The Spectrum's daughter was understandably offended. She yanked the tray of lemon bars away from Ruth, tossed her cash back at her, and started to move away.

  "You can keep your money."

  "Wait!" I stopped her. She wheeled around and dropped the tray of lemon bars, the metal tray making a tremendous clatter as it hit the ground. The crowd looked over, and I saw the security guard making his way toward us.

  "Please." Tears pooled in her eyes. "I don't want my kids to see me like this."

  "I don't want to upset you," I said. "We're on your side."

  I put my hands gently on her arms and felt the pain of a little girl who'd lost her father. As she looked back at me I think she knew that I recognized what she had lost. Maybe it was the power in my hands, maybe it was the feeling in my heart; but she opened her mouth to talk. I had the feeling she was about to tell me everything.

  She didn't get a chance to say a word.

  "Go away!"

  Scarlett was screaming at Golden Boy. Our probationary team already stood out in the crowd. The shouting wasn't helping us blend any better.

  "Talk to me," Golden Boy said to Scarlett. "That's all I want. Just talk to me about it."

  "GO AWAY!" Scarlett pushed him away and tried to blow past him, but he moved at superspeed to block her path. We were gaining a real audience at the fair.

  "Talk to me," he said again, and she pushed him away again, and he appeared in front of her again.

  "Talk to me."

  "I can't." Scarlett finally gave in and stopped pushing him. She sounded so tired.

  "Why can't you?" Golden Boy said, trying to make eye contact with her. He reached out and held her hand.

  "Don't you get it?" Scarlett said. She wouldn't look at him.

  "Tell me," Golden Boy said.

  Scarlett eyed Golden Boy's hand on hers, then she looked at her stomach.

  "It hurts to be around you." Scarlett pushed his hand away.

  They stared at each other for a while. None of us knew what to do; this was between them. I glanced at Ruth, hoping she'd have a bright idea, but she was massaging her temples like she had a major migraine. At first I thought she was faking it: some kind of distraction to get us out of there. But she didn't wink or anything. Something was wrong with her.

  Larry and I both noticed the security guards calling us in on their walkie-talkies. He whispered to me, "This is not good. What do we do?"

  Then Golden Boy took an awfully big chance.

  He stepped forward, put his hands around Scarlett, and kissed her gently on the lips. She closed her eyes and melted into the kiss.

  She opened her eyes and blinked after Golden Boy was finished with the kiss. He smiled at her, his arms around her shoulders.

  "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Scarlett heated up her arm for extra strength and pushed him away. The force of the blow knocked him into the crowd; he could have been seriously hurt if the Spectrum's daughter hadn't been there to cushion his fall.

  He landed on her head.

  Larry and I helped the Spectrum's daughter to her feet. She'd been knocked to the ground like a bowling pin when Golden Boy landed on her. Her upper right cheek was cut and bleeding.

  She touched her fingers to her cheek and saw the blood. "Oh my God!"

  "Kevin!" I was desperate for help. I saw the cops getting out of their car in the parking lot.

  I hate to admit it, but there were times that Golden Boy was an invaluable asset to our team. He had the most experience of all of us, and that counted for a lot under this kind of pressure. Before the police car doors had even slammed shut, he'd scooped each of us up and had us waiting on the far side of the school, where no one could see us by the edge of the woods.

  Ruth was getting her bearings and starting to stand up, so Larry came over to see about the Spectrum's daughter. Scarlett was crying softly into her hands, and Golden Boy stood behind her, patiently waiting for a chance to comfort her. I was trying to figure out who to tend to first.

  "Can you help me? God, look what you've done! Can you fix this?" The Spectrum's daughter held her hand up and looked at Larry.

  "Actually, I make people sick," Larry said.

  I pulled her aside, took her by the hands, and went to work on calming her. Her posture relaxed, and the panic evaporated. The wound began to heal, and she could feel the smooth skin seal over her cheek.

  "Believe me, I've seen much wdrse," I said. "There, good as new."

  Her eyes were now grateful and calm. She cleared her throat and rubbed the smooth skin of her cheek.

  "He called me that night from his lab and said he couldn't tell me too much. He said if anything happened to me, he wouldn't be able to bear it," she said. "I asked him what he was talking about, and he told me he couldn't tell me who did it, warned me that the person he thought had been killing the heroes could read minds. He said we were all in danger, and he told me to take the kids to the mountains until things settled down." She took a deep breath. "He said I couldn't even think about what he told me."

  That last sentence echoed in my mind. You can't even think about it, my mother had made me promise.

  I went to Ruth's side. She grimaced like her head hurt—or like she was seeing something else. Then she looked at me like she wasn't sure who I was. I thought maybe she was having a senior moment.

  "Thom!" Ru
th called out. "I can almost see it!" She furrowed her brow and squinted. "I think I know who it is."

  "Guys," Larry said, "something isn't right. Look at the sky."

  "C'mon, Ruth, you can do it," I said. "You're almost there."

  We could hear the loud rustle of the wind as it whipped through the trees.

  Golden Boy raised his head from Scarlett and looked to the clouds that had suddenly begun to cover the sky. Even Scarlett took her face out of her hands and looked up. Now the trees were bending in the force of the wind.

  "Oh!" Ruth cried out and dropped to one knee. I rushed to hold on to her. Her red dress flew behind her in the wind like a cape.

  "Guys, something is really wrong!" Larry shouted over the wind.

  A panic seized Ruth; I could feel her whole body go rigid. She grabbed my collar and looked at me.

  "It's coming."

  Larry pointed at the sky, the dark clouds parting. We stared up, Scarlett lit up with flames in a defensive pose, and Golden Boy clenched his fists and readied for the strike. I squinted and stared into the clouds to see what was coming.

  "Something's wrong with my head," Golden Boy shouted.

  Scarlett raised her hands to her temples in pain. Larry and the Spectrum's daughter quickly followed.

  All of a sudden, thoughts were screaming through my mind: You're going to die. All of you are going to die. And it's all your fault.

  I raised my hands to cover my ears. Agony seized my brain, but my powers quickly took over and my hands began to sizzle on my head. Then my stomach dropped at a sudden realization.

  Those weren't my thoughts. Someone was putting them in my head.

  The heavy clouds finally cleared in a burst, and then I could only see a dark blur. A blur that whizzed past Larry and a forearm that sliced toward him. Larry flew back, his hands around his neck as he choked and gasped for air, his windpipe suddenly broken.

  In the second it took for me to turn to grab the Spectrum's daughter, I saw Golden Boy pick her up and speed her away to safety. This time he'd remembered the innocent bystander first.

  Scarlett's body lit up in flames, a natural defense mechanism. The dark blur circled her but was careful to avoid the fire. Instead I saw it cover and wrap her in a giant, clear plastic tarp, like she was being spooled into a huge roll of Saran wrap at ultrafast speed. I'd barely even taken a step toward her when the dark blur snatched her up and hung her high in a tree, impossible for me to reach. Her flames were quickly being extinguished by the lack of oxygen. She gasped for air and began to suffocate as she desperately tried to rip open the plastic.