Superhero (8 page)

He tried desperately to scream for them. He tried to move his toes and then his fingers, to blink his eyes or move his eyebrows. But the only functions of his body that still worked were those that didn’t require his front and motor cortex: his heart, lungs, and organs. He was a soul trapped inside a flesh tomb.

Jack could no longer tell the day from the night as few people came to his room. Occasionally he would hear his sister’s voice as she read to him, usually the morning paper. Sometimes doctors checked on him, and slightly more frequently nurses. Once, a neurologist came to his room and ran ice cubes in his ears and up and down his feet. Since he didn’t respond, the neurologist concluded, Jack Edward Kane was brain dead. The family should be notified about pulling the feeding tube so the organs could be harvested.

Horror filled Jack in a way it had never filled him before.

You’re fucking crazy, I’m right here! I’m still here!

A time of long silence passed after the neurologist’s visit before his sister was back in his room. She was reading the Op-Ed section of the
LA Times
when the door opened and he heard Hank’s voice.

“How is he?” Hank asked.

There was a long pause before Nicole said, “Dr. Bachan says he’s brain dead. He called him a breathing corpse. He said we should…he said we should pull the feeding tube.”

“Did you talk to Mike and your mother about it?”

“Yeah. They said that it’s what he would’ve wanted. That…”

She began to cry and Jack heard clothing rustling. He was frantic and screaming and doing everything he could, his mind fear and anger.

Nicole cried for a long time before Hank said, “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Jack cried out but didn’t hear his voice. It was useless. The doctor was right: he was now a breathing corpse.

CHAPTER 15

Reese Stillman stood on the corner of Madison Boulevard and watched the cars go by. It was eleven at night so the traffic was thin, but there were enough cars that he would have a decent collection to choose from. He was chewing gum and would pop it every few minutes. He thought that this must be what rich people feel like when they go shopping.

A Mercedes was coming up the block. It was in the lane closest to him. He took a few steps to the right near a bus stop and leaned against the sign. Two cars were ahead of the Mercedes at the stop light.

As the Mercedes slowed to stop behind the cars, Reese looked inside. It was an older couple, the man in a suit and the woman in a gown with a thin fur over her shoulders. Reese smiled and pulled the 9 mm out of his waistband.

He grabbed the door handle and pulled. The door opened. Most people didn’t think to lock their doors as they drove.

“What is—”

Before the woman could finish Reese had backhanded her across the mouth, causing her head to hit the headrest. He reached in and unbuckled her, pulling her out of the car by her hair as she screamed. The man was frozen stiff, staring at Reese with his mouth open.

“Hi,” Reese said, getting in and shutting the passenger door. “Please drive. Or I’ll kill you and drive myself.”

The man began to drive, checking on his wife through the rearview to make sure she had made it to the side of the road.

“Where are we going?”

“Just drive.”

They drove for a few minutes, the gun on Reese’s lap with the barrel pointed at the man’s guts. Reese liked this car. It was a smooth ride. Even the bumps and gravel in the road from the city’s constant construction were taken with a glide.

“I like the car,” he said.

“Listen, I have a lot of money. Why don’t you let me go and take it? I think there’s over a thousand dollars in my wallet.”

“A G, huh? Now why would I take a G when this car is worth fifty times that?”

“You want my car?”

“Turn left.”

The man turned, glancing over once to the gun. Reese could see droplets of sweat forming on the man’s forehead. He was right to fear him.

“What’s your name?” the man said.

Reese slammed his fist into the man’s ribs, knocking the wind out of him. The car jerked to the left and ran up on the curb, nearly hitting a bench with two people on it. Reese grabbed the wheel and twisted it back to the right. He held it a few moments as the man caught his breath.

“Just fucking drive.”

They drove another five minutes before coming to an empty field. It was filled with what looked like green and gold wheat but were just weeds overtaking an abandoned parking lot. Garbage was thrown around and the nearest business was a Wal-Mart almost a full block away.

“This is your stop,” Reese said. “Thanks for the car.”

The man got out of the car without protest. Reese slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the lot. He checked his rearview and saw the man pulling out a cell phone from his pocket and dialing. Wrong move.

Reese hit the brakes and stepped out of the car. He took out his 9 mm and raised it. The man saw and bolted in the opposite direction. A shot rang out through the night and dirt kicked up near the man’s feet. Another shot and more dirt. The man was running up the street to the Wal-Mart. Reese took his time, aiming for the man’s hamstring, and fired. A mist of blood spit out of his leg. The man yelped in pain as he collapsed onto the pavement.

Reese laughed, got into the Mercedes, and drove off.

The three men waited on a corner as Reese pulled to a stop in front of them. They hopped into the car without a word and didn’t mention anything about its luxury. Reese sighed. The Myrs were crazy, and unfortunately, uncivilized. They didn’t know how to enjoy the nice things in life when they presented themselves.

As they drove, no one talked. But the car was filled with the sounds of automatic rifles being checked and re-checked. Ski masks were handed out and latex gloves were slapped on. Jimmy was still in the custody of the LAPD. They had him in a holding cell and he was supposed to be arraigned tomorrow and then sent to the county jail to await the appointment of a lawyer and a scheduling conference on his case.

The police precinct looked old and boring. Reese thought it looked like an office building and he was glad he hadn’t become a cop. His dad was cop, before he blew his brains out over the dinner table one night.

They parked in front and Reese and the three men slipped on the ski masks. Reese looked back to them as he opened the door and stepped outside. One of the men had a duffel bag and he unzipped it, revealing three assault rifles. They each took one, and turned to the building.

They bounded up the stairs leading to the front entrance like it was an Olympic event. They burst through the doors firing, not even waiting to identify proper targets. Their rounds entered the walls and broke out windows. They hit everything in the precinct they could see. A few people dove behind desks. Reese didn’t care about them.

The three men ran to the back and saw a policeman, a balding African-American, down on his knees behind his desk. His gun still in the holster. Reese placed the muzzle of the assault rifle against his temple.

“Where’re the keys to the holding cell?”

“They’re locked down. When you walk in, you gotta ask the clerk to buzz you in.”

“Who’s the clerk?”

“Her…her name’s Cindy.”

“Thanks,” Reese said. He turned away like he was going to leave but instead spun and slammed the butt of the rifle into the back of the man’s head, knocking him cold.

Turning away, they went through a large gray door. They were in a small room with someone, a young female, behind bullet-proof glass. Reese raised his weapon.

“Hollow point,” he said. “Can tear right through bulletproof plastic.”

The female swallowed. “What do you want?”

“I want to be buzzed in to the holding cells.”

The female reached down and pressed a button. The door buzzed and opened. Reese turned to his men. “Stay here. If she tries to call anyone shoot her in the head.”

He ran across the room and into the holding cells. They were packed tight with men in street clothing and a few in the orange LA County jumpsuits provided to prisoners. Reese stared at all the faces, the men beginning to shout and hit the bars with cups and plates as they realized what was happening.

“Reese!”

He turned to see Jimmy’s face pressed up against the bars. Somehow, even with Reese wearing a ski mask, Jimmy could tell it was him. Reese ran to him and they embraced through the bars as best they could. “One sec,” Reese said.

He ran back out to the woman. “Open the cell doors,” he shouted.

She looked at him but didn’t move. He pointed his weapon at the bulletproof glass two feet from her face and fired. The rounds popped into the booth like a pen tip through paper. The woman screamed and immediately pressed another button. Reese heard cell doors creak open behind him. He walked back to the thirty or so prisoners escaping their cells.

“You guys wanna make some money?” he shouted. “Come with me. If not, you’re free to go.”

CHAPTER 16

Jack’s thoughts had run their course. His mind screamed for as long as it could but even a voice in the mind can go hoarse. Nothing was left to think about except the terror of slowly starving to death in the dark.

He couldn’t be sure how long he was alone but it was a long time. Nurses came in quietly now and straightened the room, emptied his catheter, and checked his feeding tubes and IVs. There were no human voices in his world now.

As he was drifting off to sleep one day, he heard someone speak to him.

“JACK.”

He forced himself awake, if there was such a thing anymore, and listened.

“JACK.”

Jack tried to quiet his mind so he could focus on listening but that grew more difficult as time went on. His thoughts would race and he seemed helpless to stop them.

“YOU ARE NOT ALONE.”

The voice was loud and Jack wondered if the person was standing right next to him. If he could’ve moved, he would’ve put his hands to his ears.

The door opened and he heard footsteps.

Some nurses were in the room straightening and talking about a riot that had occurred last night at the central precinct. Over thirty inmates had escaped. Some footage of the perps revealed ski masks and military-grade assault rifles. Jack was only mildly interested.

After a while the nurses left and Jack was alone again. He tried to occupy his mind with memories. He would play entire baseball games in his head, pretending he was in the stands watching. Then he would make up episodes of sitcoms he had enjoyed as a child. Slowly, the terror would come back and he would frantically scream and attempt to thrash in the bed, but nothing would happen.

“I AM HERE.”

Jack saw a glimmer of an image and he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or if it was just in his head. But one thing he was certain of was that it was there. It was a black outline of a man. But not really a man. It turned to him and revealed its face. Black with white triangles over the eyes that glowed a dull green.

“YOU SEE ME.”

Jack wept, though his physical body stayed motionless. He wondered if any tears were rolling down the skin of his cheeks and whether he would feel them if they were.

The voice grew stronger over the coming days. It would speak to Jack, though Jack could never speak to it. In his more lucid moments, Jack understood that it was simply his attempt to alleviate the acute loneliness he felt.

“YOU WILL HAVE VENGEANCE,” the voice said. “YOU WILL DESTROY THOSE THAT HAVE TAKEN FROM YOU.”

I don’t want revenge.

“YOU ARE NOTHING. I AM EVERYTHING.”

The voice suddenly stopped and Jack felt someone else in the room. They were near too, perhaps standing over him. He smelled something: orange blossoms. A bodywash. Probably another nurse. But she didn’t act like a nurse would. She ran her hand over the length of his body. From his forehead, down his face and shoulders, over his ribs and down his legs. He could feel her touch grow dim at the legs and had suspected for a while that they were bound in thick casts or bandages.

The orange blossom fragrance grew strong.

“We’re getting out of here,” a female voice whispered.

He felt himself moving suddenly. He was disconnected to every IV and the machines beeped for only a second more before the woman did something to make them stop. He heard a door open and then felt the bed begin to move. He listened to the sounds of paper shuffling and keys being pushed on a keyboard and was grateful to have something new to listen to.

“Excuse me, Doctor, where are you taking him?” someone said as the bed came to a stop.

“Neurology. Running another CAT scan,” the female voice said. “Make sure Dr. Herald knows where I am in case he needs me.”

Movement again. It was slow and casual at first and then grew to a quick pace. Jack heard an elevator button be pressed and felt the sensation of falling. More jerky movement and suddenly, it grew hot. He knew now he was outside the hospital.

What do you want with me? I’m already dead.

Two doors opened and Jack felt something slip underneath the bed before he was lifted into someplace with shade. Then the doors closed again before an engine started, and movement again.

Jack was left alone somewhere after they had gotten out of what he guessed was a large cargo van with a lift. It was perfectly quiet here except for the occasional sound of an air conditioner. He would listen to it, anticipating its next click, and thought that he had perhaps slept a while, but couldn’t tell. Little difference existed anymore between being awake and asleep.

He was suddenly lifted in the air again but this time lowered into something that felt sticky and wet on his skin. He felt a mask placed over his face. It still allowed him to breathe as he was lowered into what he imagined was goop or slime. He breathed and tried to listen to the air conditioner again, but there was nothing. The world was mute.