Superheroes In Denim

by Lee French

  He held up his hands. “It ain’t like what it looks.”

  “Kimmy is one of my girls,” a big man in a dark coat said. He cracked his knuckles and flexed his thick biceps. “Bring her back.”

  Bobby knew a fight brewing when someone slapped him in the face with one. He took a step back. His dragons could kill people. They’d do it if someone riled him up enough, no matter what he wanted. “I don’t want no trouble.”

  The man punched him in the face. Bobby’s head exploded into the dragons and the rest of his body burst into the swarm. Hundreds of tiny dragons swirled, light glinting off their silver skin. Half the crowd screamed while the other half bolted.

  His mind floating in the middle of the swarm, Bobby put every bit of effort he could into pulling the dragons away so no one got hurt. Through their tiny eyes, he saw Matthew abort a charge into the fray. He beckoned for the dragons to follow him and darted up the alley again.

  At the next street, Matthew ducked around the front of a bowling alley to lean against the wall. “Christ, Bobby. What were you thinking? Stephen’s on the roof.”

  Bobby flew the swarm up to Stephen and re-formed his body next to the vampire patting the girl’s cheek. “Shouldn’t you get her to an emergency room already?”

  “Sure. I’ll just fly over, drop into the front door, and walk away. What could possibly go wrong?” Stephen sighed. “I didn’t mean to take this much from her. She just tasted so good and I was so hungry.”

  “You can stop saying creepy things like that right now.”

  “I drink blood,” Stephen intoned like he’d practiced explaining this a hundred times. “I need it to live. It’s not my fault.”

  Bobby rubbed his face and touched the girl’s cheek. “She looks awful young.”

  “Back off,” Matthew snapped, still down on the street. “She’s not dead. He took her to the hospital.”

  “I don’t see no car pulling away,” the big man said. “You rich white boys think you can just come down here and kill these girls because we won’t go to the cops? You got the wrong bunch, white bread.”

  “I said back off,” Matthew snarled.

  “She was the only one that smelled healthy and clean,” Stephen muttered.

  “Again with the creepy.” Bobby noticed the small purse across her body and unzipped it, checking for her ID.

  “The real one is probably in a side pocket.”

  “How in heckbiscuits you know that?”

  “Do you honestly believe this is the first time I’ve hired a hooker to drink blood?”

  Bobby stared at him. A man’s scream cut the silence. They left the girl behind and dashed to the roof’s edge. Below, they saw Matthew, now in his terrifying nine-foot werewolf shape complete with thick claws and yellowed fangs, throw his furry head back and howl. The big man bolted back up the alley.

  Stephen spat a curse and jumped off the building. Bobby wondered how this night could get worse. He watched the vampire snag the werewolf’s arm and distract him from his fleeing prey. Matthew flung Stephen aside, throwing him across the street. Unable to recover and prevent it, Stephen slammed into the bars over a storefront window, denting them and cracking the glass behind.

  Bobby smacked his forehead, now knowing how it could get worse. Those two would be at it until Matthew wore down enough to get control over himself and change back. He sighed and hoped they got away before cops showed up. Turning away from the spectacle, he saw the girl, still lying on the roof. Someone had to get her to safety, and the roof didn’t count.

  He checked her purse again and found a driver’s license for an eighteen year old woman. In the side pouch, he found a folded note with a different name and a phone number.

  “I guess Beth must be your real name.” He brushed her cheek and tried not to listen to the snarling, hissing, and smashing on the street below. Stephen’s twenty dollar bill had fallen to the roof. He picked it up and tucked it into her purse. Poor girl deserved at least that much. If he had a phone, he’d call the number and tell them she was okay.

  Flashing red and blue lights strobed across her skin and Bobby cringed. Somehow, he, Stephen, and Matthew had to get out of here and take care of this girl without the cops reporting that dragons, a vampire, and a werewolf had terrorized the city. Proving Beth still lived might help, and it might distract the cops from the fight moving up the street. At least Stephen had the sense to goad Matthew out of the area instead of deeper into it.

  Bobby’s body dissolved into dragons and the entire swarm wriggled underneath Beth’s body. They all flew up at once, lifting her into the air. He didn’t want to be seen as dragons, so he had the swarm carry her to the ground at the end of the alley, then he re-formed and picked her up. She seemed so light and fragile as he carried her back to the convenience store.

  “Stop where you are!”

  Light shone in Bobby’s face, blinding him. He squinted and stopped. “Hi there,” he said, trying to sound harmless. “I think—”

  “He’s the one that’s made of flying metal!”

  “I saw it too!”

  “Quiet!” a man snapped. “Is the girl okay?”

  Bobby took another step. “She’s unconscious.”

  “The vampire sucked her blood out!”

  “C’mon, lady, really? Ain’t no such thing as vampires. I think she maybe needs to go to a hospital, though.” He breathed a sigh of relief when the light dropped from his face to the girl.

  The owner of the flashlight, a uniformed police officer, approached Bobby. “These people seem to think you and two friends tried to abduct this girl.”

  “They did!”

  “Naw.” Bobby ducked his head, hoping the cop would fall for the guilty-but-not routine his momma learned to see through years ago. “Shoot, my friend done, well, you know, he shouldn’t oughta done nothing, but he, you know, did, and then she passed out. He didn’t even do nothing, but he panicked and run off anyway. I figured we shouldn’t oughta leave her lying on the ground.”

  The cop held up a hand and Bobby knew he’d at least confused the man enough to have to think things through. “Just set the girl down. No sudden moves.”

  “Here? Ain’t there a better place? More comfy-like?”

  “There is fine.” He touched the radio clipped to his shirt and called for an ambulance.

  As he bent to lay Beth on the cracked asphalt, Bobby noticed the crowd dispersing. With an ambulance coming in, they probably expected more cops to show up. Bobby didn’t want to be here for that either. He laid her on the ground as gently as he could, taking care with her head. Then he stepped back with his hands up.

  “C’mere, kid,” the officer said. He pointed to the space next to him.

  “What for?” Bobby stayed still, resisting the powerful urge to glance behind him. “I ain’t done nothing wrong. Just trying to help.”

  “Don’t make me pull my weapon.” The cop rested his hand on his holstered pistol.

  “No good deed goes unpunished, huh?” Imagining himself getting fingerprinted, photographed, identified, and filed, Bobby blanched. Next would come men in dark suits. They might even have some nearby. “I swear I didn’t do nothing.”

  The cop scowled and approached. “Kid, you’re coming down to the station with me for questioning.”

  Bobby backed up. “Ain’t it—” His voice cracked. He coughed and tried again. “Ain’t it more important to make sure the girl is okay?”

  “An ambulance is on its way. Stay where you are, kid.”

  Trying not to panic, Bobby took a deep breath. He only hoped Momma would forgive him for using her like this. “If’n my momma finds out I been out, she’s gonna whip me but good. I sure don’t need more stripes up my back.”

  The cop sighed and took his hand off his gun. “Fine, just tell me your friend’s name, then you can go.”

  Bobby tried not to let his relief show too much. Except he couldn’t tell a cop any of their real names. He cracked into smile to buy time and trie
d to think of a harmless name, someone who would neither lead the agents to them or get into trouble. “Brian.” When the cop gave him a raised eyebrow, he tacked on a random last name. “Walters.”

  “I don’t want to see you or Brian around this part of town again.”

  “Yessir.” Not trusting his luck to hold, Bobby turned and bolted up the alley. As soon as it seemed dark enough, he burst into dragons and they shot upward. Through the dragons’ eyes, he saw the cop shake his head and return to Beth’s side. With that handled, the swarm turned to darting up the street to find Stephen and Matthew.

  Ahead, Stephen rocketed up with the werewolf in hand, then tossed Matthew higher and got out of the way. As Bobby reached the spot, Matthew slammed into the street below, cracking the asphalt. The werewolf shrank back into Matthew, who groaned as his injuries healed themselves.

  Stephen dropped to the ground and crouched beside him in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Bobby touched down next to them as he re-formed.

  “Oh, yeah,” he spat, still reeling from his police encounter. “We’ll just hop on over to the big city. Nothing bad’ll happen.”

  “I never said nothing bad would happen.” Stephen smirked. “I said we could make a night of it.”

  “Made a mess of it is more like.”

  Matthew grunted and propped himself up on his elbows. “We should probably get out of here.”

  “I’m still hungry. Especially after dealing with Fido here.”

  Bobby rubbed his face. “Great. Just great.”

  “Seconded.” Matthew rolled to his feet and took a deep breath. “Maybe we should try a bar or cafe this time. You know, a place where your intent isn’t illegal to begin with?”

  Bobby followed Matthew away from the crater he’d left in the street. “Maybe you could go for not near-killing the girl this time too. Since that was actually the problem and all.”

  “This is why I should eat more often. Daily is preferable. Can’t I just kidnap some woman and take her home to feed from?”

  Bobby rolled his eyes. “You’re kinda messed up in the head.”

  “Yes! I need at least two or three. Then they can entertain each other. Do some light housework…and probably plot together to kill me in my sleep. You’re right, this is a bad plan.” Stephen went quiet while they bypassed the area now drawing cops in swarms.

  “I suppose one good thing came out of this disaster,” Matthew said.

  “Oh yeah? What in heckbiscuits is that?”

  “I’m not really thinking about my own problems. Thinking about his instead.”

  Bobby laughed and hoped the rest of the night turned out less eventful.

  Stars and Stripes

  Matthew

  The moon hung fat and full in an impossibly starry sky. Matthew remembered sights like this in Afghanistan. His unit had spent nights dug in, waiting, in awe of the sky he never seen in LA or Camp Schwab. He now lay on a section of roof he’d spent all day repairing with some of the others. It seemed like a good place to avoid people. When he had a weird urge to run like a maniac, howling at that big round thing in the sky, he felt confident he should stay away from people.

  Not that the moon held any true sway over him. He had a feeling the urge came more from his expectations of werewolves than anything else. At least he could say he had things in common with fictional werewolves. He also had some things in common with the Marine he used to be. Not control, though. He’d lost any semblance of that.

  “Mind if I share the roof?”

  Matthew glanced to the side and saw only a dark shape blotting out stars. He knew the voice, though. “Knock yourself out.”

  Stephen landed an arm’s length away and stretched out over the roof. “I’d never seen the stars until the trip out here with you.”

  Matthew grunted to show he’d heard and had a thought to leave it there. For some reason, though, he wanted to poke at his scars. “I took Beth to the planetarium once, but I didn’t pay any attention to the show. She did, despite my best efforts. She said she didn’t want to go back with me unless I promised to keep my hands to myself. Because we could do that without paying to get into some public place.”

  “Sounds practical.”

  “She was going to be a nurse.”

  “Must’ve been smart too. My last girlfriend was undeclared. Since leaving her, I’ve thought over the six months I spent with her. In retrospect, I think her major was actually about finding a husband to support her.”

  “Not my Beth.” Matthew chuckled. “She said she let me stay at her place because I was nice to look at and picked up after myself. I guess she knew I was an overglorified dog before I did.”

  Stephen let a companionable silence hang between them for a while. “How did you meet her?”

  Memories bubbled up that Matthew didn’t want to deal with. He scraped at the scabs anyway. “Ninth grade history class. We sat in alphabetical order. Bethany Gale, Matthew Garrison. I spent an entire year staring at her hair and learning nothing. Took me another year to grow the balls to ask her out. And that was only because her cousin and I sat together in art class. He talked me into doing it.”

  If he asked Hannah, she’d probably give him some funds to pick up art supplies. Some of the VA guys swore by art as therapy. He hadn’t drawn anything since he got back, though. The things that might show up on a blank page scared the hell out of him.

  “Art class? Big, bad Marine werewolf did art class?”

  Matthew growled. “What? You think the only thing I know how to do is kill people?” He spat the last few words.

  Stephen left a long pause before he sighed. “No. That’s not what I meant. Sorry.”

  Rubbing his eyes, Matthew clamped his mouth shut to avoid saying anything else stupid. Obviously, Stephen hadn’t meant it that way. “I’m just really damned good at it. Too good at it. I’m so good at it I’m a fucking serial killer.” Then, the thing he’d been thinking since he got here spilled out. “That makes me a shitty Marine.”

  “You were trained to kill people, though. I mean, that’s what Marines do. Rifle, handgun, knife, claws—it’s all the same idea.”

  Hearing it put that way made Matthew scowl. Stephen didn’t understand. He’d never been through military training or in a war zone. He’d never seen a guy’s brains blown apart. He’d never—

  “Get your damned fool head down, Garrison!”

  Matthew sighted down his scope, waiting for the right moment. He didn’t care about the incoming fire. Beth’s picture rested inside his helmet, right in front of his brainpan, protecting him. His world shrank to his target, sealing away the rest of the world. Dirt puffed into the air, probably from a bullet hitting nearby.

  His target dropped something. The man stopped and bent to pick it up. Matthew exhaled, pulled the trigger, and finally ducked under cover.

  “Target eliminated,” he reported.

  But Sergeant Ackers didn’t answer. His body lay in a heap with too much blood staining his fatigues.

  “—not a war zone, Matt!” Stephen hovered over him, shaking his shoulders. “Snap out of it. You’re halfway to furball.”

  Raising his hands, Matthew found long claws where his fingers should be. He swore and took several deep breaths. The metallic tang of blood left his mouth and the werewolf receded with the memory. Of course that one would trigger the wolf inside. After that moment, he’d been on his own for five long, bloody minutes. His CO promoted him for those twelve enemy kills.

  “You’re not a murderer, an animal, or, for that matter, a shitty Marine,” Stephen snapped. He let go and drifted to the roof again. “You can control that. If I can handle my inner asshole, you can handle yours. You just need more practice.”

  Matthew rubbed his face again. “I’m fine. For certain definitions of ‘fine,’ anyway.” He breathed deeply several times. “How do you handle yours?”

  “With blood. Mine gets bad when I’m hungry. Even then, though, I’ve had lots of practice holding him back no
w. Willpower.”

  He only had to want it to stay in the box until he needed it. Easy as pie. Matthew stared up at the sky for a while, wondering if he’d ever find peace with those memories. “She was furious with me for enlisting. Said it was the stupidest thing I’d ever done. My dad, though. He was a Marine. His boy was going to be a Marine too, goddammit. I wanted to go to art school. Beth waited for me. When I got back… Dammit, I miss her every day. It like those sonsabitches stabbed me in the chest and ripped out everything they could get their hands on.”

  “And you killed them,” Stephen said.

  “And I killed them. With my bare fucking hands. Claws. Whatever.”

  “And it didn’t bring her back.”

  Matthew shook his head. “No.” Revenge hadn’t made anything better at all. “When I think about what they did-”

  “Stop thinking about it.”

  “Sure,” Matthew scoffed, “just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “You can’t change what happened. None of it. Remember her laugh, or her body, or the sex, or whatever else works for you. Not the bad stuff, just the good stuff.”

  Forget the bad stuff and focus on the good stuff. Stephen sounded like…Beth. She had a thing about silver linings. Matthew pictured her face first thing in the morning, when she had no makeup on and her hair stuck out every which way. The woman had horrific morning breath and he didn’t care.

  “I took her camping once, after I got back. It rained, a snake scared her half to death, some dog kept barking on and off all night. Ground was too hard for her to get comfortable. I slept alright, but she barely did. Went home in the morning because she wanted to. She slept for hours when we got back. While she was asleep, I went out and finally bought the ring I’d been saving for. Cheap piece of glass in silver.

  “I made her lunch in bed. Used the ring to hold a rolled-up paper napkin. She said yes before I had a chance to ask. Best lunch I’ve ever had. Later, she told me she knew it was a piece of crap ring, but she didn’t care if it came from a cereal box. I’d planned to get her a real one someday. Like for an anniversary.”