by Brad Murray
He would lay awake at night wondering if the baby would be cursed with its father’s traits. Most of all, he fretted over whether the child would spend its life on the run just as he had. Ultimately, Benjamin decided the best course of action would be to ensure the baby’s blood was never tested in the first place. So, when Juliette was eight months’ pregnant, he took a job in the most remote location he could possibly find. He packed the couple’s belongings and drove north.
Way north.
He began work with a logging company located an hour outside of Timmins, Ontario and found a tiny three-room rental cottage located miles from anyone. Andrew was born in that cottage; brought into the world by the aging local physician. No hospital, no blood test. Though the old man did remind the couple to set up an appointment in his office for a follow-up checkup, the good doc would never see the baby again. The couple moved away very shortly after the birth, and back to more populous areas where Benjamin felt they would blend in.
The engine of the Ford Fairlane roared as the family raced across the Jacques-Cartier Bridge, crossing the Saint Lawrence River from Montreal into Longueuil. The car weaved from one lane to the next, desperately seeking a clear path. Young Andrew sat with a wide-eyed grin in the back seat. He’d never seen his father drive like this. He imagined he was zigzagging between other racecars at a Grand Prix race, about to cross the finish line victorious.
“Dammit!” shouted Benjamin, who was boxed in on all sides by slow moving traffic.
“What is your problem?” asked Juliette. “You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Benjamin bluntly.
Juliette slammed her fist on the dashboard. “I’m tired of you saying that. You’re driving like a maniac and you’re scaring us. Tell me what’s going on or pull over and let us out. We’ll walk home.”
Benjamin nervously checked the rearview mirror and exhaled. His voice softened. “You won’t believe me. You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me,” said Juliette.
“We’re in danger, Jules,” said Benjamin curtly. “We’ve got to get home, pack up our stuff and get out of Montreal.”
Juliette stared at her husband, looking at him as if she didn’t know him. “What are you talking about? Are you in some kind of trouble? What did you do?”
“No,” said Benjamin frustratingly. “I didn’t do anything. There are men after me.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know. They’ve been after me my whole life.”
Benjamin searched his wife’s face and found the disbelief in her eyes that he had always imagined – always feared.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. This is exactly why I’ve never told you this.”
“Just tell me what’s happening.”
He exhaled. “These guys – they’re worse than anything I can describe. Pure evil. They’ve been after me my entire life.”
“What are their names?”
“What? I…I don’t know,” Benjamin barked.
“Are they mafia or something?”
“They killed my family…”
“I thought your family died in the war…”
“They tried to kill me too but I escaped. And they’ve been after me ever since.”
“What do they want from you?”
“My blood.”
Juliette rubbed her temples as if a pounding headache had suddenly taken hold. “Your blood? Who are they Ben? Who are these men you’re talking about?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know who they are!” he exclaimed. There was a fear in her husband’s eyes that she had never seen before. Juliette sat back in her seat and tried to make sense of it all. Benjamin studied his wife’s face as traffic on the bridge had come to a standstill. The topic he had hoped would never surface had come out. And clearly, judging by her expression, she thought he was out of his mind, just as he had feared.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you? I knew you wouldn’t understand. I shouldn’t have told you.”
Juliette searched her husband’s face for answers. She noticed the knot on the crown of his head and suddenly a light turned on in her eyes; the muscles in her face eased. It all made perfect sense now.
“Honey, you were just in the hospital. You hit your head. Those damn doctors should have never released you. You’re obviously not well. Pull over and let me drive. We’ll get you home and let you get some rest and…”
“Dammit Jules, would you listen to me! This has nothing to do with me hitting my head. We’re in danger and you need to listen and just…just do what I say.”
Juliette recoiled.
“Jules, there’s a reason we don’t stay in one place long and it’s not because I can’t keep a job. It’s because I love you. And I love Andrew. I’m protecting you both. These men want me because I’m different - or at least they think I am. I think they want to study me because…well, because I don’t get sick.”
“Bennie, stop it! Just stop it!” exclaimed Juliette. She thought of jumping into the backseat, scooping up her son and getting out of the car to safety.
“Think about it Jules! Have you ever known me to be sick?”
Juliette thought absent-mindedly for a second as she eyed Andrew in the backseat. “No,” she said. “But I…”
“Have you ever known me to have so much as a single fever or even a runny nose?”
“No…” said Juliette, her voice trailing off. “I don’t understand…”
Traffic cleared and Benjamin stomped on the accelerator. “We can talk about it later. I promise I will explain everything. But for now, you need to listen to me and do exactly what I say.”
***
“Do we have an address for this supposed Super?” asked Adler. He sat relaxed in the front passenger seat and pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket.
“Yes,” said Brumeux from the backseat. He was busily unfolding a map of Montreal as their car blew down the 417 outside of Ottawa. “I’ll navigate. We’ll proceed through Dorval and around the south side of the city. We’ll avoid downtown Montreal to get to Longueuil.”
Traugott nodded his head in agreement, familiar with Montreal and the surrounding area.
“The Super lives in a working class neighborhood,” remarked Brumeux, intimately studying the map.
“Super? Yes, I’m absolutely certain he will prove to be a Super,” said Adler flippantly while he cracked the passenger door window in anticipation of lighting his cigarette. “What do we know about this Porges character? Background? Ancestry? Medical history?”
“Very little. Very little indeed,” replied Brumeux, still focusing intently on the map. “Intelligence has not yet had time to run a profile. All we have at this point is a name and address.”
Brumeux pulled out a white card from the breast pocket of his sport coat and read his hand-scribbled notes.
“Doctor Stephen Zobrist of Boucher Medical Center was attending to Mister Porges, the apparent victim of a workplace injury. He had fallen off a scaffold and was knocked unconscious from a blow to the head. Upon awaking, Mister Porges became quite irritated and panicked when the subject of his blood being taken arose. According to Zobrist, he demanded his full release from the hospital, to which Zobrist acquiesced.”
Adler huffed as he lit his cigarette. “How convenient. Another case a supposed Super slipping between our fingers, huh? Curses to you, goddamned Super!” he said mockingly shaking his fist to the heavens, laughing. Adler leaned back into the headrest and sighed. “This is just another bullshit close encounter story. We all know that - know it all too well. Remind me to punch this Zobrist fellow right in the nose when I see him for sending us on another wild goose chase. Now we’ll be in fucking Montreal all fucking winter.”
Adler’s words hung gloomily over the men in the speeding car. Another bullshit close encounter story was right. Even for the ever dutiful and optimistic Brumeux, the words rang painfully true. Brumeux stared out the window at the gr
ey sky, envisioning a frigid winter spent tracking down Benjamin Porges - likely a bogus identity - a false name that would lead them to nowhere. Adler was right, and Brumeux knew it. He tossed the map onto the seat next to him and watched as Adler blew smoke through the corner of his lips.
”Put that vile thing out,” barked Brumeux. “I feel I’ve been quite clear, Ernst. No smoking while on duty.”
“Yes Benoit. You have been abundantly clear.” Adler turned in his seat to face Brumeux, his eyes hard and narrow. “But I must ask you to consider - are we truly on duty? I mean, what in the hell are we really doing here? I don’t know about you but I’ve lost interest in chasing rainbows in hopes of finding the Leprechaun and his pot of gold. My interest in fairy tales begins and ends with the telling of bedtime stories to my five year old son.”
“Speaking of which Ernst, how is young Jan Adler?” asked Brumeux. Being the unofficial leader of the group, Brumeux felt it incumbent to keep the group on their dutiful course. And often times that meant directing attention elsewhere when weariness and exasperation began to take hold. “And Martin, how is your Joerg? Such fine young boys and certain to be valuable additions to the Order one day…”
“Stop changing the subject,” said Adler. He twirled the cigarette between his fingers and pointed it at Brumeux. “This isn’t what we signed up for and you know it! We’re supposed to be doing something that matters, Benoit. Supers? It’s a damned legend!”
Brumeux exhaled and spoke in a soft but firm manner. “It matters not, Ernst. We will complete our orders to the best of our abilities, regardless of how we might feel or what we may personally believe.” He snatched the cigarette from Adler’s fingers and flicked it out the window. “I will admit, I sometimes share in your frustration but this is our duty to the Order, and the duty you – we - swore an oath to accomplish.”
Adler boiled inside and tried to maintain eye contact with Brumeux, but knew it from experience it was a battle he wouldn’t win. He relented and turned back in his seat, swearing under his breath.
***
Benjamin rifled through the closet, pulling out a dozen shirts at a time and shoving them haphazardly into suitcases. The two bedroom rental house was sparse of furnishings, most of which having been provided by its owner. The family had few possessions that couldn’t be thrown into a box at a moment’s notice. Juliette was in the kitchen, carefully taping up a tattered cardboard box which contained an old frying pan, a cheap set of dishes, and her prized possession - silverware handed down from her mother. She made quick work of the task at hand, having packed and unpacked dozens of times during their marriage. But this was different; she typically had ample warning prior to their moves. They didn’t just chaotically heave all their belongings into the trunk and tear off down the road.
Benjamin’s antics and mysterious talk of evil men was alarming. They’d always moved about frequently, and Juliette was fine with that. It had always been exciting pulling up stakes and relocating to parts unknown; it was part of the charm of their marriage. But with Andrew nearing school age, her desire to continually relocate was waning. She liked suburban Montreal life; it was a great place for Andrew to grow up and the thought of starting over yet again was dismal. She wasn’t ready to leave this place. Still, she’d never known Benjamin to act like this. It was frighteningly bizarre. She couldn’t help but think about the knock he’d taken on the head. She kept coming back to the notion that he wasn’t thinking straight. But he would hear nothing of it. Repeated attempts to get him back to an emergency room were met with increasing infuriation. He was hell-bent on bolting away from Montreal and from the evil men he did not even know.
“Jules? You done in the kitchen?” shouted Benjamin as he latched one of the suitcases shut. He grabbed the handles of two white Samsonite cases and lugged them into the living room. Andrew was busy as well, one by one placing his plastic army men into a brown paper grocery sack and dismantling the make-believe war zone he had set up in the living room.
“Jules? Bring everything into the living room and I’ll load it into the car.”
Juliette entered the living room from the kitchen, carrying the cardboard box of kitchen items. She shot Benjamin a glare and exasperatedly stacked the box on top of one of the suitcases.
“You have some serious explaining to do,” said Juliette.
“I know. And I will. As soon as we get out of here,” said Benjamin. “Is that everything? I’ve already loaded some of the other stuff in the car.”
Juliette thought for a moment. “What about Andrew’s clothes?”
“Already done. What else?” said Benjamin impatiently.
Juliette had her hands on her hips, her lips pressed together as she ran through her mental checklist. “Oh my gosh! The bills. What about rent, utilities, and…”
“I’ll leave a check behind that should cover it all. When we get to….wherever it is we’re going, I’ll make sure to call the owner - what’s his name, and…”
“David,”
Benjamin paused. “Yes – David. I’ll call David and let him know.”
“But what about our security deposit? What if he doesn’t give it back? We should stay Benjamin.”
Benjamin groaned. “We’ll deal with it later Jules. Let’s go! NOW!” He snatched the two large suitcases in each hand and with brute force, heaved them through the front door and sent them tumbling down the front porch steps and onto the front lawn. He stooped to pick up a wide-eyed Andrew under one arm, grabbed the box containing the kitchen items with the other, and darted out the door. The car sat in the driveway with its trunk and doors ajar pointing towards the road, engine grumbling, puffing clouds of blue exhaust into the chilly early evening sky.
“But my army men! You forgot my army men!” cried Andrew.
“I’ll go back and get them, son. Let’s get you buckled up.” Benjamin latched the seatbelt around Andrew’s lap and turned towards the house.
“Jules,” yelled Benjamin towards the open front door. “Can you grab Andrew’s army men?”
Before the words were even out, Juliette was walking out the door with paper bag in hand. “Already got them,” said Juliette coolly with a nod to the bag.
Benjamin smiled, patted his wife on the cheek and said, “You know I love you, right?” He ran his fingers softly through her hair. “Everything is going to be fine, Sweets.”
He looked into his wife’s eyes and tried to reassure her, realizing that his actions over the past two hours must have been jolting. She begrudgingly returned his gaze, wanting to be mad at him. But when he would give her that look - that puppy dog look - her heart softened.
“Don’t…,” she started, biting her lip to keep from grinning. “I’m starting to think you’ve lost your damned mind.”
“Maybe I have,” laughed Benjamin, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. “But it’s always exciting with me, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, well I could use some regular ol’ boredom,” said Juliette, leaning back, distancing herself. “We have to settle down. For Andrew. He needs stability.”
“I know. I’ll do better, I promise.”
“What does that mean?” said Juliette, her face scrunched up.
“I don’t know,” smiled Benjamin. “Let’s talk about it on the road. Now then, let me smooch those lips of yours and let’s get outta here.”
One corner of her lip turned up higher than the other, producing a dimple in one cheek. It was the same quirky smile that made Benjamin fall in love with her by the end of their first date. And he loved her now and all the days in between. She met his lips for a brief kiss and then pulled away.
“There better be a good explanation, you’re really worrying me. I mean what if…” Juliette paused in mid-sentence, her attention seized by something that caught her eye over Benjamin’s right shoulder. Chills shot through her entire body and her throat caught.
Three men in dark business suits, one wearing a fedora, sat in a black Lincoln Cont
inental across the street, the car facing in the wrong direction. The closest of the occupants leaned forward in the passenger seat smugly nursing a cigarette, intensely staring at the young couple. He made no attempt to conceal his interest in them.
“Ben?” she whispered shakily. “Do you know those men?”
Benjamin turned in the direction of her stare and then whipped back almost immediately to face her.
“Get in the car,” he mouthed silently.
He was ashen, his eyes wide. Juliette gave her husband a look of sheer panic. Though her heart was pounding out of her chest she walked calmly, placed the box in the backseat next to Andrew, and eased into the passenger seat of the Fairlane. Meanwhile, Benjamin moved quickly to the suitcases still lying in the grass and picked them up, one in each hand.
“Mister Porges?” The man who had been in the front passenger seat had silently exited the Lincoln and was approaching quickly. “Mister Porges?” He was a short man but walked with a confident and aggressive stride. He meant business. He kept a thin mustache, and his dark eyes peered hawkishly over his large nose.
Benjamin threw the suitcases into the trunk and slammed it shut. “I’m sorry, but you have the wrong house.” Benjamin stepped into the driver’s side and started to pull the door closed, but the man grabbed it before he could do so.
“Your name is not Porges?”
“No.”
“Then you weren’t the man who spent time in a Montreal emergency room today?” he asked, eyeballing the swollen knot on Benjamin’s head.
Benjamin froze, a bead of sweat trickled over his brow. “No. You must be mistaken.”
“Curious,” said the man. “Perhaps we have received faulty information.” His eyes shifted from Benjamin to the back seat where Andrew sat next to the boxes, playing with one of his army men. “It appears you are moving, sir. And in quite a frenzy I might add.” He blew a puff of smoke out his nostrils and peered down probingly, like a hawk circling its prey.