Holy shit, he thought, this nut job is local. A quick METIS maps search showed that he could be there in 20 minutes if he left now.
He popped his head over his cubicle wall and shouted in the general direction of his boss’ office. “Hey Joe, I’m taking an early lunch.”
“If they offer you the job, take it,” Joe shouted back.
Chapter Five
“Why on earth do we still live in Northern Virginia?” Chuck said to himself. The comic shop was five miles from Chuck’s office. He managed to make it there in a little under 35 minutes.
The shop was in the sort of anonymous strip mall that exploded across the local landscape in the 80s and 90s. It was tucked in between a Peruvian chicken shop and a nail salon. The busted sign over the door said “Apes and Owls Comics and Collectables”. A real stickler for details, Chuck thought as he opened the door.
A familiar swooshing sound announced his entrance to the quiet shop. Is that the sound the doors make in Star Wars? Maybe I was too harsh about the sign…. His eyes struggled to adjust to the relative darkness inside the shop. A man shouted, “Good Morning. Anything I can help you find?”
His eyes adjusted, and he saw a thin, pale man behind the counter. If he had to guess, he’d place the man’s age at somewhere between 25 and 50.
“Maybe,” Chuck said. “I’m actually looking for the owner”.
The man huffed. “That deadbeat? You should try the Applebee’s around the corner. I’ll warn you though, it’s almost lunch time, so he’s probably half in the bag already”.
“Any idea if he’ll be back soon? I have something I’d like to talk to him about. About his website.”
“Look pal, he ain’t here, and he doesn’t pay me enough to keep track of when he will be and won’t be. You want to leave your number or something?” The man’s tone conveyed a distinct lack of patience.
“No thanks,” Chuck said. “I’ll just look around for a bit, and if he comes back, I’ll talk to him. If not, we’ll figure out our next step.”
“Help yourself buddy. You need anything, shout. I’ll be in the back.” The man headed toward the door to the back room.
“Wait, one more thing. Do you have any Mr. Wonder comics?”
Without stopping the man said, “Second row of long boxes from the back.” He disappeared behind the swinging door.
Welcome to Apes & Owls, where our service is what sets us apart, Chuck thought, heading toward the back of the shop. As he scanned the boxes looking for the Mr. Wonder section, his mind wandered back to the time he spent in shops like this when he was a kid.
No matter how long he went without going to a comic shop, he would never forget the smell. There was something universal about the smell of old paper, Mylar, and just a hint of BO. It was warm and comforting.
In his youth, he had amassed an impressive comic collection. Every dollar he got from allowance, holidays, and odd jobs for neighbors had gone into his comic fund. His parents had taxied him around the entire DC metro area helping him track down missing issues in mini-series, books in primo condition, and other rare finds. Then he discovered girls, realized that most girls didn’t want a guy who obsessed about the finer points of grading the condition of old comics, and moved on to other hobbies.
He scanned the boxes, looking for the Mr. Wonder section. When he found it, he wasn’t surprised to see it only had a few issues in it. While he focused on current books during his collecting years, he’d gotten a pretty good working knowledge of older heroes too. The fact that he’d never heard of Mr. Wonder told him a lot about the character’s popularity.
He pulled out the first issue he found in the Mr. Wonder section. The cover showed a man in blue tights and a black mask facing off against a group of machine-gun wielding men in loose black clothing, wearing cone-shaped straw hats. The hero’s speech bubble said “Bring it on Charlie!”. On his back was an unmistakable cape.
Bingo, Chuck thought. That’s definitely my guy. Didn’t know he fought in Vietnam.
He replaced the comic and flipped through a few more, scanning the hook lines. “Mr. Wonder vs The Creeping Doom”. “Introducing The Crimson Blur”. “The End of Mr. Wonder?”. Chuck pulled that last one out for a closer look.
The cover portrayed a classic comic book scene. A villain had forced the hero into an impossible choice: to save someone he loved, or save a bunch of innocent people. In this case, the villain, a large man in a red ski mask, held an elderly woman, and pointed to a bus leaning over the edge of a bridge. His speech bubble read, “Your mother or those kids. Your choice.” Mr. Wonder stood staring at the man, his face showing the difficulty of the choice. Chuck tucked the comic under his arm. For $3 it was worth taking home for closer look.
Chuck took the comic over to the cash register and shouted towards the back room. “Excuse me. I’d like to get this.”
“Hang on a sec, be right there,” the man said. He almost—but not quite—managed to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
Chuck passed the time looking at the assortment of small items that filled most of the space on the counter. Small figurines. Keychains. Rolling papers? Things might have changed just a bit since he frequented comic shops.
The clerk emerged from the swinging door. “Ok, what’d you find? Slim pickings in the Mr. Wonder section.”
“Just this one,” Chuck said, pushing the comic across the counter.
“Oh, this is a good one,” the man said, a wistfulness creeping into his voice. “The last one as a matter of fact. The final issue. You have the rest? Or are you setting yourself up for major spoilers?”
Chuck shook his head. “Before today I’d never heard of Mr. Wonder. Now I’m trying to learn a bit about him.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to start with something a little earlier on? Reading the last one first seems like a terrible way to get into it.”
“Nah, this is fine,” Chuck said. “I’m not going to read the whole run or anything. Just trying to get a feel. Hey, heard anything from Albert?”
“Albie,” the man said. “Nobody calls him Albert. But no, nothing. I can pass along a message though. What’s your name?”
“I’m Chuck.” Chuck extended his hand out of habit. The man didn’t take it.
“Nice to meet you Chuck,” the man said, not acknowledging Chuck’s still-outstretched hand. “What kind of work do you do?
“Corporate accounting,” Chuck answered. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” the man said suspiciously. “That’ll be $3.24.”
Chuck dug his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled his four dollar bills out, and handed them to the man.
“What got you so interested in Mr. Wonder all of sudden?” the man asked as he made change. “We don’t get a lot of call for his books.”
“I’d really rather discuss that with Albie,” Chuck said.
The man looked up from making change, his face exasperated. “That’s what you want to talk to me about? A comic?”
Chuck stared at him, dumbfounded. “Wait, you’re Albie? What did you think I wanted to ask you?” He wasn’t the best judge of character, but he could tell this guy was as shady as could be. “And why did you lie to me?”
“Yeah, I’m Albie. I don’t like strangers coming in here asking for me, so sometimes I pretend to be someone else. To throw them off the scent. This was one of those times. Do you know how many customers I tend to get at this time of day? Almost none. So when I do have one, and they start snooping, I get a little defensive.”
“Do you have any idea how paranoid that makes you sound? I mean no offense by this, but you run a comic book shop. Who do you think would be snooping around here, and what on earth would they be trying to find out? I’m pretty sure the release date of the next issue of Betty & Veronica is available online.”
Albie waved his hand dismissively at Chuck. “Mock away, smart guy. It’s not the shop they have interest in. And I’m not paranoid. I see people parked outside for long stretches of
time without coming in. People come in, browse for an hour, never say anything, never buy anything, and leave. I’m being watched, and I can’t be too careful.”
Chuck’s head was beginning to pound. He realized the guy was crazy when he read the website. But the reality of dealing with someone this batshit insane was more difficult than he’d thought it would be.
“You say it’s not the shop,” he said, trying to stay patient and calm. “So what is it, your website?”
“Website? What web—“
“Knock it off,” Chuck interrupted, his frustration starting to come through. “It’s how I found this place, and why I came to see you.”
“Fine. Yes, it’s about the website. It cuts too close to a nerve for some people to handle. There’s a lot of time and, more importantly, money tied up in convincing the world that superheroes only exist in fiction. So anything that threatens to expose their secret is a risk that has to be monitored. Now, Chuck, I’m a busy man. So why don’t you tell me what you want to know about Mr. Wonder?”
Chuck paused for a moment, debating whether to tell this guy about the cape, or simply walk away. As much as he didn’t like it, this whack job was the only lead he’d been able to dig up.
“I have a cape.”
Albie stared at him for a long moment, unblinking. “Well congratulations, Chuck. Did your mama sew it for you, or was it on clearance at Wal-Mart after Halloween?”
Chuck embraced the weirdness of it all and grinned like he didn’t get the sarcasm. “Nope. Got it from a homeless guy.”
Albie paused for a second, giving Chuck a flat stare, before saying, “Awesome Chuck. Well, thank you for paying me the visit and buying a comic. And thanks for questioning my sanity. But if you’re all done, I have work to— ”
“It’s a Mr. Wonder cape. High quality. And it matches one in a photo on your website.”
Albie didn’t say anything for a minute, instead staring through Chuck, as he if was trying to read one of the comics in the bins behind him. Then he quietly walked to the front of the store, flipped the “We’re Open” sign over, and locked the door. “Follow me,” he said, walking back behind the counter and through the swinging door.
“But it’s in the car, and you just locked the door.”
Albie sighed. “Then go get it and meet me in the back. Just lock the door on your way back in.”
“The craftsmanship on this thing is incredible.” Albie examined the edges of the cape like a jeweler examining the cut of a gem. “You can’t even see any stitching. And how is the ‘W’ attached? It almost seems to be woven into the fabric.”
Chuck didn’t reply, having realized a few minutes into Albie’s examination that these questions were rhetorical, and answers would be met with condescending stares.
“How does it stay on? There’s no tie, or clasp, or Velcro, or anything. Just two flaps where it looks like strings should attach.”
“Huh,” Chuck said. “I hadn’t even noticed that.”
“You mean you didn’t even try it on?”
“Like I said, I just opened it this morning, and honestly, it hadn’t been out of the box until you pulled it out.” He had told Albie the story of the convenience store robbery the night before, and how the old man had given him the package out of appreciation. And how he’d forgotten all about it until Riley had pointed it out. “Look, I have to get back to work. Can you just tell me what you know about it? Is it someone’s cosplay costume? Movie prop? More importantly, is it worth anything?”
“Easy there, tiger,” Albie said, looking up from the cape. “I’m pretty sure the answer to all of those questions in ‘no’”.
Chuck wasn’t expecting it to be worth much at this point, but he was still disappointed to actually hear it was worthless. “So what is it then?”
“It’s real.” A grin slipped onto the thin man’s face.
Chuck cocked an eyebrow. “You mean ’real’, as in it’s tangible, I’m holding it my hand?”
Albie’s grin widened. “Nope. ‘Real’ as in, the actual cape that the real-life Mr. Wonder wears. Or wore, I’m guessing.”
Chuck tried to stifle a laugh, but only managed to turn it into a dismissive sounding snort.
Albie’s grin disappeared. “Is that funny?”
“You’re joking, right? You know how crazy that sounds, don’t you?”
“I’m a pretty patient man Chuck, but I don’t have a lot of tolerance for people coming into my shop and calling me ‘crazy’. Especially more than once. So, either suck it up and remember that you came to me for help, or get your ass out of here.”
Chuck raised his palms in a classic “take it easy buddy” pose, and said, “You’re right. That was rude. I did come to you for help. Let’s assume for a second that this is the real Mr. Wonder’s cape.”
“We can assume that, because that’s what it is,” Albie said, not quite ready to let go of his frustration.
“Assuming you’re right, how the hell did that old man get it, and why do I have it now?”
Albie gestured to an office chair that seemed to be made of cracked vinyl and duct tape. “Chuck, my friend, have a seat. You have a lot to learn.”
“How much do you know about the history of super hero comics, Chuck?”
“I know a little about the Golden Age of comics,” Chuck said, digging deep in his memory. “Superman, Batman, Captain Marvel, those guys. So that would have been, what, the 40s?”
“Not bad.” Albie looked a little impressed. “Superman made his debut in 1938. The others followed shortly after him. Captain America, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Wonder Woman. All those great characters. All sprung up right around the same time. Awfully big coincidence, don’t you think?”
Chuck had never been a conspiracy theorist, and didn’t really understand the mentality. He didn’t understand the mental gymnastics you had to put yourself through to jump from What’s that funny looking thing in the sky? to It’s a UFO, filled with little grey aliens, and the government shot it down and kept it in a secret facility for years, and that’s where CDs came from.
“Or just a really creative period, at a time of great confusion in the world,” he said, trying not to sound too dismissive.
“You think the world went from no concept of super heroes, to a library full of iconic ones, in the span of a few years, because we went to war?” Albie made no attempt to hide his dismissiveness. “Let me tell you a story.”
“It’s 1938. Kansas. New Year’s Day. A couple of guys are driving home from a party, when they hit a patch of ice and end up in a ditch. The combination of booze and the impact has them a little groggy. They try to get out, but the doors are stuck. Through his fog, the driver notices a truck headed for them, having hit a similar patch of ice. He braces for impact, but none comes. He’s confused, until the door is ripped open, and a man pulls him and his friend out of the car. The truck is stuck steaming in the ditch. The men go to check on the truck driver, and find him conscious, but stuck in the truck. They ask him what happened, how he missed their car. He says he saw the whole thing, but he doesn’t believe what he saw. He lost control of the truck, and was headed straight for their car. Then a man appeared out of nowhere, picked up the car, and set it down just out of harm’s way. The men looked all around the scene for the mysterious hero, but he was gone.”
“The police take everyone’s statement, chalk the oddness up to concussions and booze, and forget about it. The local newspaper runs a small article about the strange accident, but it doesn’t get any attention otherwise. Six months later, Action Comics #1 hits the stands, with Superman holding a car over his head on the cover. Superman, a man with exceptional abilities, living in Kansas. Lifting a car over his head. Think that’s a coincidence?”
Albie finished his story with a satisfied grin on his face, as if he was a lawyer just finishing the best closing arguments in the history of the legal system.
Chuck considered the question carefully. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I thin
k it is.”
Albie groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why is everyone so quick to chalk it up to coincidence? If you just do a little more digging, you can find the truth.”
“So, what really happened then? Did some mole planted in a Kansas police station tip off some secret government agency that this weird thing happened, that they had finally found one? That agency covered up the incident by commissioning a comic book about it, hiding the real man behind a fake character. Is that what happened?”
Albie rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Department of Super Human Affairs didn’t have the resources back then to have someone inside every small-town police station. They wouldn’t get funding like that until the 80s. No, they tracked it down from the newspaper article. Then they commissioned a comic book to cover it up.”
“To be clear, you’re telling me that somewhere in Kansas, in the late 30’s, Clark Kent was running around lifting cars, and the only record was a police report in a small-town newspaper article?”
Albie’s grin returned. “Nah,” he said, “his real name was Frank”.
Several times during the next hour, while listening to Albie’s explanations of the “real” origins of Captain America, Aquaman, and Wonder Woman, Chuck considered grabbing the cape and running for the door. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t, except that he found the stories oddly entertaining. He didn’t believe them, of course. But, as someone who passed a lot of time making up stories, he could appreciate a good piece of fiction.
He was starting to run short on time though. At some point, he needed to get back to the office. As it was, he was way overdue, and he’d probably have to do some work from home to make up the hours.
“Ok, I think I get the concept,” he said, cutting Albie off as he started to tell the story of the real Captain Marvel. “Super heroes in comics are based on real people, and the government uses the comics to cover up the fact that there are people out there with real super powers. So, somewhere in the world there’s a guy with claws in his hands that heals really fast.”
A Dad in a Cape (Mr Wonder Book 1) Page 3