The Midlife Crisis of Commander Invincible: A Novel (Yellow Shoe Fiction)

by Neil Connelly

  So each of my boys is now in his mother’s embrace, and each of the women holds me with her eyes. They look on me with relief and gratitude.

  Clyde appears behind them, wearing his geeky yellow-and-white All-Star costume, and says, “Ice Queen and Ecklar are securing the perimeter. Report.”

  “There was a monster,” I say. “I kicked its ass. After that, nachos.”

  He cocks a look and says, “Did you recognize it?”

  Thomas squirms out of Sheila’s extended hug and goes back to his food. I shake my head at Clyde and offer Sheila a sip of iced tea. She waves it off.

  Clyde rubs his chin. “First those college kids hypnotized into thinking they were cavemen, then Bone Crusher reappears. Now an unknown creature. This could be the beginning of something sinister.”

  Nothing Clyde loves more than conspiracies. I say, “Those damn Kappa Alphas weren’t under anyone’s spell. They were drunk, that’s all.”

  Clyde looks at me askance, like I’ve spoken heresy.

  Nate, still clutched to Deb’s chest, tells her, “The okapi wasn’t where it was supposed to be. It’s missing.”

  Clyde’s eyebrows arch, and I say, “Figure that’s unrelated.”

  Deb stands, holding Nate like a baby now, and asks, “How’d you end up at the zoo anyway? What happened to the museum?”

  “Change in plans,” Thomas says. “Who wants to see dead animals when you can see real ones?”

  Though he doesn’t know it, my son is now an accomplice in my lie. Clyde takes out his handheld computer and starts inputting data. When he asks for a description of the creature, the boys begin speaking at the same time. Tentacles, they say. Horns and claws. Deb’s and Sheila’s expressions grow more disturbed as the danger their boys faced increases in their mind.

  Clyde types for a minute, then says, “OK, I’ve officially designated the new hostile as the Hideous Beast. Did it exhibit any supernatural abilities?”

  “Flight,” I say. “Superstrength. Bad breath.”

  The boys chuckle. Nate says, “Laser eyes.”

  Clyde hesitates, not quite trusting the eyewitness testimony of a fouryear-old. But before I can correct him, Thomas nods. “You bet. Red lasers.”

  I wish I were alone with him, so I could ask if he’s just protecting his brother or trying to exaggerate his father’s heroics.

  Ecklar’s seven-foot robot walks in and approaches us. Nate cringes and curls against Thomas. Then the shield flips up like a welder’s mask, and Ecklar’s face appears. My friend’s eyes drill into mine with a meaning I can all too easily guess. He reports to Clyde, “No unusual readings on my scanners. Ice Queen’s rounding up witnesses, but their accounts are somewhat divergent. We’ve got some photos, though.”

  He holds up a civilian’s cellphone, and there on the screen are Huan and I, locked in deadly combat.

  Clyde says, “Thing looks like an amalgam. Any chance the Grand Geneticist could be involved? Maybe he’s got an experimental lab on the zoo grounds somewhere.”

  Ecklar gives me that intense look again, waits for me to answer. When I stay silent, he says, “I suppose anything’s a possibility.”

  Clyde decides to evacuate the zoo and conduct what he calls a “Level-7 Full Sweep.” He informs the zebra-striped rent-a-cop waiting by the door, who nods, depresses a button on his cattle prod, and heads out. Within moments, the zoo patrons—my adoring fans—are being ushered out of the courtyard. They seem reluctant to leave, and a few of them wave at me through the window, like we’re old friends being separated against our will. Clyde asks Ecklar to take Sheila and Thomas back home in the hovercar. “Stay with them till we’ve ruled out a code 72.”

  I don’t know what this means, but Ecklar nods.

  Thomas says, “I want to stick around.”

  Sheila drops a look at him.

  “Can’t I even finish my food?”

  “Get a to-go box,” Sheila says.

  I should tell my ex-wife that our son is entirely safe, that he never was in any jeopardy, that this is all a fantasy I’m not man enough to break out of. When she puts her arms around me to say good-bye, I say, “I’m sorry about all this,” and in a way, my apology is entirely sincere.

  She sniffles and says, “I’m just so glad you were here.”

  Behind my breastplate, I feel the rising. But this glorious moment is diminished somewhat when I see Deb watching my face, seeing how much the words of my ex-wife mean to me.

  I walk them out to the hovercar. Though Thomas is sixteen, Sheila buckles him in. Ecklar comes up behind us, his robotic limbs whirring and humming with every step. He leans over the side and says to Sheila, “I won’t be but a minute.” Then he walks away, toward the pond with the fountain. I know I’m supposed to follow.

  I’m surprised to finds ducks skimming the surface, unimpressed by all the excitement. Ecklar stops walking, becoming a seven-foot statue, and I say, “Good to see you in the old suit. Still fits, huh?”

  Ecklar asks, “At what point in time do you think we should talk about precisely what the hell’s going on?”

  The ducks paddle away from us. I watch the ripples fade, then say, “I suppose now would be the answer you’re looking for.”

  “Now works for me. Let’s start with the truth of the Hideous Beast.”

  Still facing the retreating ducks, I say, “You know the truth.”

  “Huan?”

  I nod and turn away. Only the original Guardians know she’s been hiding out in this place. Sunlight cracks through a break in the clouds, and something at the bottom of the pond sparkles, like lost keys. I lean over the rail for a better look. The sparkling objects are scattered beneath me, and of course they aren’t rare gems or jewels, but coins. Those are somebody’s dreams down there, tossed wishes half-covered in mucky duck shit.

  Ecklar says, “I always suspected she wasn’t really drawing on altered DNA patterns. She’s relying only on her imagination. There’s no limit to what she could turn into. The power to do that, it’s beyond reckoning.”

  “She’s also a little bit nuts, I should tell you.”

  “That seems to be going around. You two planned this little charade?”

  “No,” I say. “I just got lucky.”

  Ecklar glances at the hovercar. “I don’t especially care what you tell Clyde. An exercise like this has definable advantages for the team. But Sheila, Debbie, they need to know the truth. That seems nonnegotiable.”

  “Why does this suddenly sound like a hostage crisis?”

  “Just go tell them.”

  “I can’t. Not right now. Other things are happening.”

  “So Titan tells me.”

  I feel again my friend’s deep hurt. As the day of his departure from our planet grows near, he and I are going through what feels like a kind of divorce. “It just came to me yesterday morning,” I tell him. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been kind of busy. Plus, with your own plans, well, I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”

  “You are my naddeo,” he says. “I will stand by your side.”

  I’ve always envied Ecklar’s resolution. “We can get this done before your people show up,” I say. “If we do it right, we can pull it off in a couple days, tops.”

  “If Bone Crusher is aware of the current location of King Chaos.”

  “He’ll know.”

  “And if he agrees to surrender that information.”

  “That’s why I need Gypsy.”

  For a moment, Ecklar is silent and still. We both got the same letter from her when she was in rehab, the one chronicling all her addictions, asking for forgiveness for past wrongs and support as she strode boldly into the future. At the bottom, beneath hearts and kisses, Grace signed her name in big loopy cursive. Even her signature seemed under the influence. Ecklar says, “Gypsy was part of my phone call with Arthur. He thinks it’s unwise to involve her.”

  “Arthur can kiss my caped ass.”

  Ecklar says, “Hee hee hee.” When h
is fake laughter ends, he looks at the hovercar, where Sheila sits with one arm around Thomas. “It would be better if you spoke with her now. Since I’m certain of the truth, I’ll have to tell her.”

  “Andromedans don’t perpetuate falsehoods,” I say. This is a line he’s dropped on me a dozen times.

  “Indeed. But beyond that, lying’s just a shitty way to treat someone you care about.”

  I know my friend is right, that he is speaking with the voice of my better self. I know I should be grateful to him instead of angry. But anger is what I feel as I follow him to the hovercar. Sheila and Thomas turn to me as one, and in their eyes I see the same look—the thing I know will soon be gone, stolen by the truth—their belief in me as a man.

  Ecklar says, “I’ll give you all a few minutes.”

  Thomas picks food from an unfolded Styrofoam container. I say, “Look you two, something needs to be cleared up before you go.”

  Sheila’s eyes narrow, and before I lose my nerve I just say it. “There was no Hideous Beast. That was Menagerie, and I had to pretend to fight her because she’s kind of lost her mind and thinks the Techno-Horde is stalking her. I had no choice.”

  Thomas speaks with his mouth half-full of corn chips. “Menagerie can’t turn into things like that.”

  I shrug. “I guess her powers have evolved some in eight years.”

  Sheila holds her silence, but I can tell by her face she’s calculating something. Thomas says, “So she just picked this time to come out of hiding and pretend to attack you? That was a coincidence?”

  “Yes. No. It’s more complicated than that. After we got separated, she heard me shouting your name.”

  Sheila says, “You were shouting?”

  “The boys were lost,” I say. “What else would you suggest I do?”

  Thomas folds the box and says to his mother, “We were in the bathroom.”

  She turns to me like a prosecuting attorney. “Vince, where were you when the boys went to the bathroom?”

  “We’re getting way off track here.” I hold both hands up. “Huan heard me yelling and thought there was danger. She came to help, and I didn’t recognize her, so I thought she was a threat.”

  They both look at me, incredulous. I say, “Look, these things happen. I’m just trying to come clean and be honest with my family.”

  Sheila starts thinking of a new question, but Thomas has heard enough. “Bullshit,” he says.

  Sheila snaps, “Thomas Stephen!”

  “No other word for it,” he says. “This whole day. Everything he says. All bullshit. This is so typical.”

  “Tommy,” I say, “you can’t believe that. I love you.”

  “You want to come clean and be honest with your family? That’s cool. Tell Mom here about how you got drunk and shoved Nate into Ecklar’s armor, nearly sent him blasting into outer space.”

  Sheila stares at me, and when I don’t speak, she asks the obvious question. “Is that true?”

  I look over at Debbie and Nate, still inside the Tex-Mex. He’s sucking on a straw shoved into an enormous chocolate shake. He’s alive and unhurt, but what I did that night, it could’ve gone very wrong. I grip the side of the hovercar for balance and say, “I wasn’t drunk.” I don’t offer that I was under the effects of some high-end muscle relaxant.

  “Christ Jesus,” she says. Then she yells, “Ecklar! Let’s go.”

  Thomas says, “I told you, Mom. Bullshit.”

  She ignores him. I say, “Obviously, I didn’t mean for the suit to activate. I’d never put him in harm’s way.”

  Ecklar opens the door and climbs in, then the ignition sequence starts. I say to Sheila, “I’m telling you this because I don’t want any more lies between us all.” This too, of course, is only partly true.

  My ex-wife shakes her head. “Even for you, this is pretty fucked-up. I think it’s best if we take some time to sort this out, OK? From a distance.”

  I nod, then step back. With a whoosh, the hovercar lifts into the sky, and Ecklar speeds away with a family I have most certainly lost.

  After the zoo, I head back to the HALO with Nate and Deb. Bubba and J.D. meet us in the hangar, and each gives me a high five for my monster stomping. They want to take me out for a drink, but I’ve got bigger plans. Nate demands we open birthday presents before he goes down for a nap, and then he insists we put together the model rocket ship he picked out for me. After we’re done, Deb leads a reluctant Nate back to his room, carrying the fragile rocket ship, and I sit at the computer in the corner of the living room. I start forcing myself through the questions on Clyde’s “Incident Requiring Intervention Report.” I keep an eye on the clock and try not to get too upset when Ecklar doesn’t return when I expect him. I imagine him in Sheila’s home, trying to convince her not to sever all ties.

  Just when I’ve decided Debbie has passed out with Nate, our son’s door opens, and she tiptoes out. She crosses the living room without looking my way and silently slips into our bedroom. Last night nobody got any sleep in that cramped bed, and I assume my wife has decided to lie down herself. That this further postpones my obligation of telling her what really happened at the zoo does not upset me. I go back to the form on the screen. Field 14A asks me to “Compare the unknown combatant’s abilities to known paranormals.”

  The thing to do, I decide, is wait until tonight, when Debbie and I are alone on patrol. I’ll bring her to one of my secluded rooftop haunts, tell her how excited I am about the future, tell her she means the world to me. I’ll tell her that at forty I have perspective enough to realize that she has made my life have meaning. Then I’ll explain how I tricked her into thinking her son was in mortal danger. Afterward I’ll tell her I need to find Bone Crusher so I can track down my mentor’s nemesis and kill him or die trying, in part to avenge the death of the man who cuckolded me.

  Thinking through my plan only makes it seem more absurd, and I can’t help but wonder just what the hell I’m doing. This kind of thing, it occurs to me, wasn’t part of my early days as a hero, when I didn’t know the meaning of doubt. It’s pathetic, but I tap a few computer keys and bring up some archival footage. The screen flickers, and in grainy images, the original Guardians stand back to back, surrounded by dog-size paramecia mutated by Micro Maestro. It’s hard not to notice that, though our lives are in mortal danger, I’m smiling. Smashing monsters doesn’t require a great deal of deliberation or moral conjecture. Then the camera catches something truly disturbing. Micro Maestro watches the battle from atop a bacterium big as a bulldozer. Gazing down on the mayhem he created, he seems happy. Even more than that, he looks certain. But his smile is no different than mine.

  My fingers clatter on the keyboard, and file footage of King Chaos comes up. He and the Insidious Six wade through the defenses of a government weapons facility hidden in the mountains of Wyoming. Rockets explode, dust swirls, and the Guardians descend from the sky. Quickly everyone engages an opponent. And I see it there in Chaos’s face as he commands his minions—I pause the film to study it. No hesitation. No doubt. Only the conviction that this course of action is the one he is committed to.

  Good is a lot more complicated than I thought it was as a kid. But evil, it seems, is basic as black. On Earth 1.6, the moral order was inverted. The Guardians ruled Kingdom Town like a superpowered mob. With iron fists, we meted out our will and took whatever we desired. That world’s Commander Invincible had just assassinated Titan to become leader of the team. Just before I was sucked through the portal to yet another parallel reality, I confronted that Vincent and pleaded with him to mend his ways. I told him that deep down he was good. I told him that with power like ours, we could make the world a better place for all humanity. He looked at me in disgust and shook his head, then gave me some advice of his own. “Get your head out of your ass.”

  A squeaky hinge lifts my head. The bedroom door swings slowly open. The latch doesn’t always catch, and Deb’s asked me to fix it a dozen times. I don’t want to wake he
r with my typing, so I get up and approach quietly. I reach inside for the knob, but a flickering glow stops me. When I peek through the doorway, I see lit candles on both nightstands. On the bed, my young wife bunches the covers up under her chin and smiles. Ripped wrapping paper has been tossed onto the floor, where I see a small rectangular box with the words “Vickie’s Top Drawer” in elegant script.

  “I opened your present,” Deb says. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I need to talk with you,” I tell her. I will do the right thing.

  She pulls down the blanket, exposing her bare slim neck, the graceful slope of her shoulders. Across her chest, white lace—delicate and lovely. I close the door and move toward the bed, unbuttoning my shirt. The wrongness of this does not escape me as I crawl onto the mattress, plant a kiss on my wife’s sweet lips. I know I should be honest with her now, beforehand, that later this will make my confession all the worse. But she is beautiful, and I am weak, and the promise of sex, of rolling my body into hers because she wants to roll her body into mine, is too much of a temptation. The thrill of being desired never fades.

  Deb hitches my pants past my knees, uses a foot to kick them free of my ankles, and guides me down next to her. She kisses my neck, tells me she loves me, and my vision goes white with the wonder of it all. I feel excited and aroused, and only thinking this thought makes me realize I am not.

  When I go still, Deb’s eyes zero in on mine. “Vince?” she says. My expression of failure must be pretty obvious, because Deb immediately snakes a roaming hand to the source of the problem. She begins caressing me and whispers encouragement into my ear.

  “Stop,” I say.

  She does. There is a sigh, and she releases me.

  I climb off her, settle down on my back. Deb pulls up the blanket to cover herself. We center our heads on separate pillows and study the ceiling, side by side and silent. The HALO’s antigravity engines hum. Shame begins settling over me, not because I couldn’t perform, but because I tried to. My body, which I’ve battered and abused over the years, took the moral high ground and betrayed me. But in doing so, it’s given me a chance to set things right. I’m wondering if I should start with my big lie about the zoo or my grand redemption plan or, of course, what really happened with our son and Ecklar’s armor. Before I can make a choice, Debbie says, “It’s not fair to Nathan.”