The Wanderer (Book 2): Stranded

by Giancioppo, Danny

  “Why!?” he asked frantically. “What’s wrong!?”

  “Looks like, once again, I was right!” I told him. “Bell, what are they saying?”

  “What do you think?” Bell asked. “They’re saying that you’re a friend of ‘the dead man walking,’ Jason! That you saved him. A lot of the people down there are protesters– protesting you!”

  “Me!? That’s kind of fast, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. People have been reported more afraid of you the last few years than in favor. Now they really want some answers,” Bell explained. “Radio silence for four years tends to do that.”

  “Well…Well what do I do?” I asked.

  “Honestly Jason… I think you need to talk to them.”

  Bell hung up, and I was left to ultimately decide on my own. If I talked, it would be the first time ever that the Wanderer was directly addressing the people of earth, and rather unprepared, at that. If I didn’t, it would probably just be more ammunition for their fear and growing resentment toward me.

  Why was that even a thing now, though? I protected them! Sure, there were damages, and every now and again I’d slip up, and someone might die, but I stopped mass-murder on a weekly basis! Just because I wasn’t everyone’s friendly-neighborhood Wanderer, delivering cats from trees and grabbing things off the top shelf, that didn’t mean I was some villainous harbinger of doom! Did it?

  “Sam, stay here. In fact, no, make your way down the building from the stairs, and leave through the back,” I said. “Try your best not to get spotted, and for the love of God, walk home. Do not fly.”

  “Okay… What are you going to do?” Sam asked curiously. I took a deep breath, and glanced down again. They did not sound happy.

  “I am… going to address the people,” I said, then descending down to their level.

  It took me about a minute, maybe a little more. Normally I’d know exactly how long, but I was a little preoccupied trying to form some kind of speech in my head. I needed to get my point across of being at least an alright guy, without letting on too much about myself. And I assumed that would be tough, since my actions without answers was a large reason as to why these fine individuals were so upset at me.

  The closer I got, the more vividly I could see the scene laid out before me. There were, in fact, many protestors. Some of them even had signs broadcasting their distaste. At least they said “Wanderer” on them, so they knew my name!

  I landed on the front steps leading to the building’s door, and I stared out at all the people, glaring back at me in fear, curiosity, or disgust. All the cameras pointed at me, and some of the reporters nervously held microphones or cell phones up, though they wouldn’t step any closer.

  “You don’t need to come closer, I understand, and I can speak loudly enough to be picked up on your mics,” I said. Everyone looked around in surprise, not expecting me to speak up at all, I guess.

  I looked over to one of the camera men, who nervously moved the camera down as he noticed my… masked head… gaze over to him.

  “How many people are you all broadcasting to?” I asked. He looked at the other cameramen, who mumbled to each other nervously.

  “A few million, give or take,” he responded.

  “Okay, that’s good enough I suppose,” I replied. “Listen, before we begin with whatever you have planned, let me lay out some ground-rules. First: I will answer your questions, but I will not stand beratings and criticisms being hurled at me. Second: I am not telling you who I am, so don’t bother asking. Third: Please, stop looking so afraid; this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  They still didn’t really say anything. Jesus, these people weren’t very good at their jobs, were they? Then someone took a step forward, and looked at me more directly.

  “Uh, Wanderer, may I ask… I mean is it acceptable to ask if you’re a man or a woman? Or even human?” he asked timidly. I pondered on that one for a moment. It didn’t seem all that dangerous to let them know that much, I supposed.

  “I’m a man,” I replied. That sent them wild. There were notes and papers flying after something so simple. They could hear my voice right? And I had a human-physique; I wouldn’t have thought that’d come as such a surprise.

  “Wanderer, sir, are you some kind of god?” a woman asked, she too then stepping forward.

  “No, I am not,” I answered. “I do not now, nor have I ever, claimed to be the, or even a god. I’m just…”

  “A superhero?”someone asked.

  “More like a villain!” someone else said. That sent the protesters into a bit of a frenzy; I guess they gained a bit more confidence, learning I’m just a puny little man.

  “I do not claim to be either of those, either,” I continued, trying my best to stay as professional as possible. This was like a four year performance review, after all.

  “Wanderer, what is it you’re meant to be doing then?” another reporter asked. “As far as I’m aware, the alien attacks didn’t begin until you– well I suppose ‘arose.’ So what is it you’re doing? Are you bringing these attacks on yourself, only to try and stop them for some kind of fame?”

  “No, I’m not… It’s difficult to explain,” I tried to explain. Keyword: tried. I hesitated for a second, not sure how much I wanted to divulge, but then supposed that they had some right to learn more about me. It had been four years after all. “I’m a beacon of sorts, for challengers from other worlds. The Wanderer is a title that has been passed down for generations from a species far from here, and by chance– by accident– it was given to me. Now the challengers come here, to fight me, in the hopes of winning and ruling worlds as they see fit.”

  The audience gasped. In hindsight, that was maybe too much information for them to take in all at once, but hey, at least I wasn’t doing it by touching hands, right? Then it’d really be too much at once.

  “Wanderer! Why do you never seem to participate in helping law enforcement take down criminal offenses? There haven’t been any reported cases of such events, yet you parade around our city like you own it; doesn’t that seem a little unfair to you?” the second reporter asked again. A little aggressive, maybe?

  “No, I don’t think so. My duty, as far as I see it, is to protect you– all human beings– from aliens, monsters. It’s not my duty to save you from yourselves.”

  “But you said yourself that you’re a man,” she persisted. “So when you say ‘you,’ don’t you mean ‘us?’ And furthermore, are you not putting us in danger simply by being here?”

  “Yeah! If they’re coming to you, then why don’t you go somewhere else!” a protester yelled out, many of the others agreeing. I stared out at them, and tried to carefully consider what I said next.

  “It may be hard for you all to believe, but there was another like me four years ago. He wasn’t from this world, and he was stronger than I was. Faster, smarter, and with far worse intentions for the human race than I had then, or ever have had since. I was hardly able to beat him then, but I did, and I did because he threatened the lives of the people I cared for; he threatened to destroy everything about this world, and I wouldn’t let him. But that’s not my point. My point is, I do have a life here, and people I love. I won’t abandon them when I have a life both with and because of them.”

  That was all true, but admittedly not the whole truth. Honestly, my whole life I’ve felt alone; it’s only been the past few years I really thought I had people that loved me. That I belonged. I know it was a selfish choice to make, but I couldn’t bear to lose anyone I cared about, so I couldn’t stand to leave them either. It’s not an ideal mindset, but I’ve got flaws too, you know?

  Anyway, that little chorus seemed to turn some people over from being seemingly-pissed at me to cautiously willing to listen. Then though, another reporter walked out. She was looking at me much more personally, which gave me a very uneasy feeling, I’ll be honest.

  “Sam Finn, right? My daughter Jessica was dating him, she was with him when he got atta
cked by that monster about a week ago. She said you showed up, killed it, took Sam, and left. She thought he was dead, and then he– or at least, his phone number– texts her just a couple days ago, out of the blue. If my assumptions are correct, you somehow saved him from near-death, and yet you let dozens of others die. Are you really telling us that you’re willing to protect those that you care about, bring them back from the dead, and yet you refuse to save those that need you most? That sounds like a pretty twisted God-complex to me.”

  So, that was really crappy of her to do, for a myriad of really crappy reasons. One, people then noted that I knew this alleged “Sam Finn,” and that I was able to essentially bring him back to life. Granted, they didn’t have the full story, but even still, they had enough to speculate. Two, people took in mind that I “let” other people die, when I didn’t even know something was happening until it already was taking place; that had nothing to do with Sam. Three, everyone looked pretty upset at me now, which… wasn’t great.

  “Ma’am, let me ask you something,” I said, taking a step forward. “Of everyone here, how many do you know? Maybe five or six other anchors and camera-people? Even then, how many of them actually mean anything to you? Would you fight for them? Would you put your life on the line for them…? I doubt it.” I looked out at the rest of the crowd. “I doubt any of you would do that for anyone else here. But you know what? I do, every time I fight those things. Yes, sometimes I mess up, and sometimes I’m not fast enough, and people die– that doesn’t just slip past me without any kind of guilt or remorse– but I still save you all, put my life on the line for you all, so that I can live with the people I love, and protect them.”

  Everyone was quiet, including Jessica’s mom, who I felt kind of bad for– that was like, my brother’s girlfriend’s mom, and I just trashed on her a little bit– but still, I think I made a solid point. Maybe not, but I didn’t bother to think about it too too much. They all just looked around at each other, and then back to me, assumedly considering what I’d said, and hopefully realizing I was right.

  “Wanderer, show us your face!” a protestor shouted, rearing them all back up into annoying-mode.

  “Yeah, if we know you know this Sam Finn guy anyway, it’s only a matter of time before someone finds out who you are!” another said. That was a mistake.

  I took a big step forward, and then shot my hands out, using my gravity manipulation to smash the cameras to the ground in a state of panic. Nobody between or around them got hurt, but they were ruined. Then everyone just looked scared.

  “You will not, under any circumstances, speak to, or look into the life of Samuel Finn, or any of those in his life. My identity is of no importance to the public, and if your knowing this– anyone’s knowing this– puts them in any kind of danger–?”

  I stopped myself, noticing just how terrified they were. There went all my good-boy points. Hero to zero, real quick. Well, I guess hero wasn’t my goal, so just one to zero. Still though, real quick.

  “Just… please, leave them alone. Let me do my job. Let me protect you from the monsters,” I finished, taking back off into the sky.

  “Wanderer!” someone yelled from the crowd. I stopped in the air, and looked down at them.

  It was some woman, and she certainly wasn’t with the news, but she didn’t seem like a protester either, seeing as how they all were looking pissed again. She just seemed… curious. Sad even.

  “Are you saying you don’t think you’re a hero? Not even to the people that do believe in you?” she asked. I paused for a moment, staring at her.

  “I’m not a hero. I’m just the Wanderer,” I said, taking off into the sky, and leaving my adoring fans, as well as their comments, for the foreseeable future.

  7

  Birth of A Zero

  “Red and black?” Ox repeated. “That seems a rather nefarious color scheme, do you not think?”

  I had relayed the information that Sam had given me about his own take on his “hypothetical” suit design; apparently it would add a “fair amount of time” onto what was already “approximately finished” according to Ox. I’m using a lot of “air quotes,” huh?

  “Not really, no,” I replied. “I mean… well okay, maybe a little, but it’s also kinda badass, you know?”

  “Perhaps by your standards,” Ox quipped. The simulated-mouth on this one.

  “Look, can you do it?” I pleaded, getting back on point.

  “It’s already done,” Ox said.

  “I… What?” I stammered out, surprised. “What do you mean it’s already done?”

  “We mean to say the suit is finished,” he explained. “We have a chestplate here that’s fully capable.”

  I looked down at it. I mean, sure, it was a chestplate now, rather than a headpiece, but it really had all the things my suit had? Already? This was it?

  “What happened to taking a lot longer?” I questioned.

  “Your concept of time and patience are clearly much different to our own,” Ox insisted. Wow.

  “I… Okay, well, can you uh…” I tried to get out, and poorly at that. “Can you guys… you know…”

  “Do you wish for us to return to your suit now?” Ox interpreted through my awkward rambling.

  “Yeah– Yes! Yes, please,” I said. “I mean, if that’s cool with you, anyway.”

  “Very well, if that’s what you think is best. You are the Wanderer, after all,” Ox said. And kind of snarkily too. What was with this guy? These guys? Whatever…

  Ox disappeared, and a tiny piece of the chestplate came off, and flew back onto my suit. Then, Ox reappeared in front of me.

  “There, now we are back with you. However, we do still feel that Sam will need guidance with his new abilities,” Ox persisted.

  “Why? I was almost fully trained before I even knew you could appear!” I argued.

  “You knew more of your powers, yes, but the past few years we have had a favorable hand in your progression, so far as we are concerned,” he said. He had a good point, I guess.

  Still, Sam needed to learn at his own pace, you know? Just like I did. Plus, he did have me, so that was worth something, at least. Something more than I had way back when.

  “Ox, I’m sure of this, okay? He’ll be fine, and I…I still need you guys, you know what I mean?” I admitted. “I like… I like having you around.”

  “We do enjoy your company as well,” he responded. The tin man has a heart after all! “And, it is fair to say there are things you still do not know of either. Both of your powers and of the suit you wear.”

  “Really? Like what?” I asked, curious.

  “All in due time; you will know, eventually,” Ox insisted. “Do you wish to give Sam his suit now?”

  “Sure, why not right?” I decided, smiling through my headpiece.

  I grabbed the new chestplate, and shot off back to earth. In a few minutes time, I made it back to the apartment; I even got in without stopping! It was this new thing I was trying: Leave the terrace door open, and just zoom in until I get inside. That way I have a smoother entrance without having to worry about people seeing me!

  I’ve only bashed pieces off the terrace a few times in the process. And the kitchen cabinets. And the fridge. Fridges.

  Anyway, I made it in clean this time, and looked around the apartment. Sam was nowhere in sight, at least not from where I was standing.

  “Sam? You here buddy?” I called out. No answer. That was… troublesome. I know he still yearned to go outside, but he knew the risks. Best case scenario, if he was gone then maybe he had been picked up by one of the guys, and escorted without anyone noticing him.

  After doing a quick search around the apartment (and finding no trace of Sam, by the way), I pulled out my phone and texted the gang. I asked if any of them knew where he was, but everyone said no. Then, of course, Alannah called.

  “You don’t know where he is?” she asked. Straight to the point, this one.

  “No, you don’t?”
I asked back.

  “Nuh-Uh,” she replied. I sighed. “What? You think he’s out using his powers?”

  “Probably, or worse, he’s trying to see that Jenny girl.”

  “Jessica.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Not whatever! She’s a person.”

  “Okay, sorry, not whatever, but not important right now, yeah?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Is it?” I said.

  “Jason!” she protested. Good point, stay on track.

  “Right, sorry. Listen, can you do me a favor and do that crime-search thing you do? See if there’s anything big going on. If there is, and he for some reason knows about it, he’s probably there.”

  “If it’s big, won’t you know about it too?” Alannah argued. Fair point.

  “Fair point.”

  I made my way over to the tv and turned it on. It was, of course, already on a news channel. There was some kind of hostage situation over at what was initially a bank robbery downtown. Now however, the headline read: Mystery Man Circling Skies of Hostage Hold-Up; Wanderer’s New Sidekick?

  “Jesus Christ…” I muttered.

  “What?” Alannah asked.

  “Hostage situation at a bank. He’s there,” I said.

  “Well try calling him, tell him to leave!” Alannah said.

  “It’s too late to do that; if he leaves, things might just get worse.”

  “They might get worse if he stays too, Jason!” Alannah insisted. “I swear I’ll go down there myself if you don’t!”

  “Ana, don’t worry, okay? I’ve got it,” I tried to calm her. “You’re right, I just– god dammit– I just need to go down there myself…”

  “Okay, good. Are you sure you can do this without being terrifying to the public?” she asked.

  “No, but I’m doing it anyway,” I said decidedly. “I’ll call you back in a bit. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Be careful,” Alannah replied, hanging up. I scoffed a little at that last part, though then again, maybe it wasn’t for my safety.

  Just as soon as I had entered my home, I burst out, my suit still on and Sam’s chestplate still in hand. At the very least I could give him something to better disguise himself in.