Sixteen Sunsets

by Mark Gardner

  The guy was a person of interest for the Metro police. His name was Joaquin. Andy recognized him as the perpetrator from many of the crimes he had printed out in search for the mysterious hero. Where they connected?

  Run, Andy, run.

  Andy ran back to his car and drove straight home.

  He fell to his knees and rampaged through the papers on the floor, throwing the useless scraps aside until he found the printout about a recent robbery that ended fatally. The article didn’t read anything about Joaquin, but instead that the altercation between the culprit and the clerk had ended with the fatal death of the clerk who had been shot in the chest. Andy jumped back to his laptop and typed the date and time of the robbery. Some articles matched his search and he took the time to look through them all, searching for one with more details. He found it in the byline:

  “The police are still unable to identify the second DNA sample found at the crime scene. While this assailant is still at large, the police suspect there was a third party involved.” There was a picture of a fallen display of snacks covered in blood. The article continued, “According to Detective Frank Massey of the Seattle P.D. it is unclear whether the police are searching for another body. Given the amount of blood, Detective Massey speculates the robbery might have been the cruel plot of not one, but two culprits. In a moment of argument, one of them may have been shot by his partner. The police are working on another version of the tragic event involving a criminal known to the authorities. Check back for more details.”

  Andy sagged into his chair, the article still clutched in his sweaty palm. There had been a third person at that robbery and he had walked out of there unharmed despite the amount of blood. One robbery – an unknown hero prevents it from happening; days later someone tries to prevent a robbery from happening again but fails. Andy studied the two events. They didn’t involve the same people. It wasn’t the mystery man at the second crime.

  Andy entered a new search. He included “Joaquin” with “robbery” and didn’t get any useful results. Then he tried the search again with “Joaquin” and “crime.” A small article about a serial carjacker came up. Andy printed it out. Another one wrote about an impossible escape from prison that had occurred days ago. He printed that one too. Then for sport he tried only “Joaquin.” His mugshot was in the picture search results all right. Andy added back “robbery” and the mugshot was still there. He added “crime” too and Joaquin’s picture remained on the second roll of results. Andy found that odd.

  Getting back to his floor, Andy began arranging the papers into piles. Aside from the two articles, there wasn’t anything connecting him to the robbery at the convenience store. Andy had probably seen the guy’s face the same way, in the search results. “Why do I feel so strong about Joaquin’s involvement in the second robbery?” The piles of papers and other detritus refused to answer his query. “Why did it feel like this Joaquin had been there?”

  You know that’s true. He was there all right. He walked out with a gunshot. Can you guess why? Can you see him?

  “I can see him,” whispered Andy, staring at Joaquin’s face on his laptop.

  Today might not be the day this city finds the names of its heroes, but tomorrow I promise to bring them to you. I’ve been working hard these past weeks and have come up with a lead. You all watch the news and you all know about the man that prevented a robbery and saved the lives of many people at a local restaurant. Well, viewers, that man is a superhuman. I’ve titled him ‘Hero One’ for the sake of this project and vlog.

  Maybe I sound crazy to you, but the proof is out there, I know it. I’ve driven the streets, looking, searching. They are out there. He is one. I believe that a second superhuman exists in connection with the mystery man from the restaurant. A second robbery has caught my attention in what seems an impossible survival of one of the people there. I’ve titled him ‘Hero Two,’ again for the sake and purpose of this project. The Seattle P.D. have been searching for at least one of these two men. In the interests of all pray, I find them first. As a spokesperson for this community, my duty is to find those two men and tell their stories. I believe them both to have been misunderstood, neglected. They shouldn’t hide from us, from what they can do. I think both possess certain skills: It seems ‘Hero One’ has super strength, and ‘Hero Two,’ a healing ability or perhaps some sort of resistant skin. All these words may be pure speculation, but I am confident in the truth behind them. The clues are out there; there are signs. Watch the videos for yourself; read the articles. You’ll find that I’m right. Superhumans exist. The proof is near.

  Andy clicked on ‘POST’ and his blog entry appeared at the top of his blog. He closed the lid to his laptop and staggered to his filthy bed. Soon his apartment was filled with the sounds of a satisfying sleep.

  Witness

  The following morning, Andy drove to the Seattle Police Department’s Fifth Avenue precinct, after arguing the decision with his reflection in the mirror.

  He parked a distance away from the brown building and steeled himself to go in and do his bidding.

  Andy walked across the street in quick steps and slid through the thick door of the Seattle P.D.

  Once inside he looked around. It didn’t smell like justice to him. There was the perpetual scent of sweat, cologne, and fresh coffee as Andy walked further between the desks. It was a noisy den, keyboard keys clattering, raspy voices shouting, and phones ringing. Andy started for one of the benches, but next to it, there was a guy handcuffed to the metal rail of the bench. A female officer stood near, shooting rueful glances at him. The man lurched forward and threw up at his feet. The officer inched aside averting her eyes from the puke.

  “How can I help you?”

  Andy spun on his heels and came face to face with a blond officer about his age.

  “Andy Kitz.”

  Andy extended his hand, “Officer...”

  “Felix Wallas.”

  Felix shook his hand.

  “Officer Wallas, may I have a word with you?”

  The blond man’s eyes found the camera in Andy’s hand.

  “No interviews, sorry.”

  He started to walk off and Andy chased after him.

  “It’s not about an interview. I just want to talk about the robberies. I need info.”

  Officer Felix Wallas stopped.

  “Robberies?”

  Andy nodded.

  “Yeah. It’s been a major hit with our viewers. First the one with the mystery man saving the day, and now this other one with the clerk who got shot.”

  “Which channel did you say you were from?”

  “Q-Thirteen.”

  Officer Wallas raised an eyebrow.

  “Didn’t you guys already get your story done? There’s nothing more to be said. Case closed.”

  Wallas walked to the coffee machine turning his back on Andy.

  “Only that it isn’t, is it?”

  Wallas fed the machine some coins. He punched in the code for the espresso and waited.

  “Not interested, bud, now fuck off. Politely.”

  “Listen, Officer Wallas, all I’m asking is for one small portion of info. I know you guys are looking for a third person that may have witnessed the convenience store robbery, and I know you still haven’t found him.” Andy blinked twice. “Or have you?”

  Officer Wallas faced Andy and took a sip from the small cup.

  “Unless you have any information worth the department’s time, I can’t help you, Mr. Kitz. Detective Massey is leading an investigation and as soon as there are any developments the media will be informed. That’s all I can share with you at the moment. Now, unless you want to spend the night interviewing a cell, I suggest you leave.”

  “What if there’s a connection between these robberies? This Joaquin guy, wasn’t he a suspect? I remember reading about him. Isn’t he wanted for questioning or something?”

  Andy saw how Wallas clenched his jaw. The hand holding his plastic cup tw
itched, squeezing it too hard and hot coffee spilled down his wrist.

  “Fuck!”

  Andy took a step back.

  “Hold on a fuckin’ minute hotshot. C’mere.”

  Officer Wallas led Andy to his desk and showed him the chair.

  “Sit and wait. I’ll see if Detective Massey can make time for you.”

  Andy sat down and watched the officer hurry toward the Lead Detective’s glass office, but he took a turn toward the restrooms.

  That was fuckin’ stupid man. They’re going to arrest you. You talk too much.

  “Shut it!” Andy cursed under his breath and tried looking anywhere else, avoiding eye contact with any other officers in the vicinity.

  There was a fat yellow folder on the desk. Andy leaned forward to read the label on the top of it. His heart sank when he saw the name of the robbed convenience store written there and not thinking, reached for the binder. He flipped it open on his lap, taking quick glances from page to page and then suddenly Joaquin’s face was staring at him.

  So he is a suspect.

  The file had little information regarding the young man’s life. He had been arrested before, and on his last visit, he had managed to take a hostage and escape unobstructed. The file explicitly stated that the “suspect made a giant hole in the wall and escaped through it.”

  That, Andy thought, was impossible. Unless his theory for Joaquin was right and the kid was a super. He smiled to himself and returned the binder.

  Andy then stood up and hugged his camera tight to his chest. He left the precinct before Officer Wallas could return.

  The radio in the Civic screeched with static. After turning it off, Andy felt like the noise was stuck in his head. His thoughts were skipping too; excitement washed over him and he stepped on the gas. If only he could find Joaquin fast enough. He was probably confused or scared if his powers had just kicked in.

  Imagine the rush of power. He is practically God right now. Where are you going to look for him?

  “I don’t know,” Andy answered the ever-present feminine voice, again catching a glimpse of his weary eyes in the mirror. “He’s probably hiding somewhere safe. All of the S-P-D is looking for him; there are probably pictures of him in every store in the city. My guess would be down the drain of danger town.”

  Andy took a left and drove keeping a steady speed. The neighborhood he was entering wasn’t the nicest. The police didn’t actively patrol the area. It was as if they had given up against the gangs. Even through closed windows, the stench of burned rubber entered the car. Andy scoped the streets, shamelessly eyeing every African-American kid walking the sidewalks.

  “But Joaquin wouldn’t be doing that, would he?”

  Why not?

  “He’s scared.”

  What if he isn’t? Who are the scary guys around here?

  Andy chewed his lip. The Sixth Street Kings ruled this neighborhood with an iron fist. They were spoken of often as one of the biggest gangs that worked the streets. There were even rumors that some of the members made drops with the police in exchange for immunity.

  It was perhaps worth a shot driving through their area. The sheer adrenaline pumping through Andy’s veins was enough to convince him to go there.

  Then his Civic shook and coughed. Andy managed to steer it to the curb, and then the engine died. He sat in the car trying the key in the ignition without getting any results. A tendril of pale smoke drifted from under the hood. Andy suddenly began to worry. There were eyes on him. Any call he could make he wouldn’t. The police wouldn’t come pick him up and he wouldn’t want them to. None of his friends would risk their wallets and cars here either. He was stuck alone on a dangerous street. The sky was beginning to dim casting long shadows. In this neighborhood, when the sun set, so did everyone else.

  Andy reached for the door handle, thinking he might have a look at his engine, but then he saw in his side mirror a large group approaching. He relocked the door and slid down in his seat. Andy waited for a heartbeat then raised himself enough to see what was happening. One by one the members of a gang slipped through a hole in the fence that led into a yard. Andy judged their appearance and noted to himself that those were the Sixth Street Kings. Then the last two people that snuck through the fence caught his attention. One of them was Joaquin. He wore the same jacket as in the picture from the file.

  “Holy fucking shit!”

  Andy grabbed his camera.

  Calm down man. You gonna get yourself killed if you walk after them now.

  Andy nodded, agreeing with the voice. He sat in his car maintaining surveillance on the entrance to the yard, but no one came out. Then after a few minutes, a black limo pulled behind him. A woman dressed in a red dress went the same way the gang did, followed by a tall man. The latter looked around. Andy prayed he would go away and not come by his car. When nothing happened, Andy remembered to breathe again.

  When he peeked out again, the two had disappeared from view. Seconds later Andy heard muffled gunshots. He couldn’t be sure no one else was in that limo, but his stomach churned and his brain hurt. He had to see what was happening inside that warehouse.

  Andy grabbed his camera, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. He sprinted for the hole in the fence and once he had passed through it, he turned around to see if anyone was following or pointing a gun at him. The limo’s windows were dark. The street was quiet.

  Andy turned his camera on and proceeded into the yard.

  “This here, this is the Sixth Street Kings’ possible hideout,” Andy whispered; footage shaking as he ran. “Joaquin, Hero Two as you know him from my vlog is inside. I just followed a woman in red after hearing gunshots. Whatever I am about to film, it’s bound to be epic.”

  The yard led to a big warehouse covered with posters and newspapers. Andy realized those were there to shut out the world from the happenings inside. At the door one old thug lay dead, arms and legs akimbo. Andy filmed him from above then directed his camera toward the double door. It was bolted shut. Ducking below the masked windows, Andy ran along the side of the warehouse. He could hear dying screams clearly now. More shots thundered. There wasn’t another way inside and Andy swore.

  “Watch and learn guys. Here goes something stupid.” He set his camera on the ground and looked for a heavy object. Near an overturned cart, a pile of rusty iron rods stuck out from the grass. Andy picked one up and carried it with him. He felt the surface of the warehouse wall, gently tapping at random places. His knuckles hit on glass. Andy took a firm hold of the rod and hit the same spot. Thankfully a double gun shot masked the noise he had made. A portion of the window caved in and Andy gave it another hit to make it big enough. He ducked low again listening for any approaching steps. When he heard none he went back to his camera, picking it up from the ground.

  “Thankfully no one heard that.” Another shot startled him. Andy stepped to the hole he made and lifted the camera so it fit through the gap. At first, he couldn’t see much, but then his lens found a flash of red and as steadily as possible Andy followed it.

  It was the woman in the red dress. She had just been stabbed by a tattooed guy with a machete, through her shoulder. Andy zoomed in on her. The woman didn’t cry or fall. She took the blade with her hand and removed it with ease.

  “Mother of...” Andy whispered.

  The woman had the largest red handgun Andy had ever seen. She pressed it against the thug’s chest, blowing him away. Obscure figures moved toward her, some wielding blades others pistols. All projectiles hit her body, but she kept on going. The men fell like dominoes. The other guy that had come in with her was nowhere to be seen.

  “This is unbelievable!” Andy mumbled, breathless.

  No matter what they did to her, the woman wouldn’t fall. His camera became shaky and Andy found himself trembling, cold sweat prickled his skin with both fear and excitement. The woman was mesmerizing in her savagery. He caught her grin, as she blew a kiss at one of her victims. It was ludicrous an
d it was wanting. There was nothing gentle about her. The feminine figure arched her back and jumped like an animal. Her weapon fired one more time before the cacophony of bullets and shouts ended. Andy’s ears hurt and he thought they were bleeding because the sound of silence was more piercing than the noise of dying.

  That one man, she’s on the wrong side.

  Andy gripped the camera tighter. The woman was a super too. She was like the mystery man and like Joaquin. But unlike them, she got off of killing these poor bastards. She was a... villain.

  Andy kept filming.

  The woman was standing still. Andy zoomed out finding the silhouetted corpses at her feet. He tried rotating his camera a little to catch a better view of her. She was talking to someone and when Andy focused the camera, he recognized Joaquin standing across from her. She didn’t attack him. Did they know each other? From the darkness of the warehouse came one last ‘banger with a pistol. He fired twice, both projectiles hitting the woman in the face.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Andy’s heart was hammering so loudly in his chest he feared someone might hear it. The woman in red stumbled and fell backward. She was over and done with.

  Andy tensed. He zoomed back in, waiting. The thug stood grinning above what Andy presumed was the woman’s body, but then suddenly he dropped. The woman stood instead, untouched. Her face was perfect. She smoothed her tattered dress and whispered something to Joaquin. Then she started for the door leading out and Andy fell. He hit the ground ass first, but quickly picked himself up and ran stumbling for the back of the warehouse. He hid behind a barrel, panting.

  Nearly twenty minutes later, Andy found the courage to crawl out of hiding. He threw up; water, bile and his ham and egg breakfast violently for five minutes. Then head over heels he ran back through the yard and the hole in the fence. His car was gone and so was the limo. There was a blue Ford though and Andy recognized it to be a police vehicle.