Hero - Part 1 - The Man - Chapter 1

8/9/2019 Hero - Part 1 - The Man - Chapter 1

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'Hero' - Part 1 - The Man - Chapter 1

Dark night, alley, cape on ground in foreground, streetlights shining, cityscape in the

background

My life was over the moment that cape hit the ground. I knew it in the way your guts told

your head. Of course I had to first regain consciousness to appreciate that cheery fact and

when I did, it hit me full force.

The moment even a corner of red satin grazed the ground I was finished. I t was only a

matter of time and time was not relative, it did stand still and it didnt always go on forever.

And yet, I was still alive. It wasnt pa rt of the plan but Id take it.

I struggled to stand and watched as the cape shifted at the will of the wi nd and realised that

I should go, make myself scarce, try and hide. And yet I didnt move I watched the cape

twitch and shift, feeling blood flood my tired limbs; my legs started to twitch like jelly in sync

with the cape and reminded me of its owner.

I glanced over to the prone figure lying broken on what used to be a car. Yellow streetlights,

blue suit shining purple covered in red.

My eyes recognised the red as blood scarlet rivulets marring the costume like a web. My

only disconnected thought was that w as going to stain. The recognition of the costume

punched me in the brain and got me thinking of my survival in hours instead of mere

seconds. Perhaps enough time to get away and li ve briefly through the fallout.

My mind debated the merits of obscuring the evidence of the fight and its bloody prize and I

quickly declined my invitation to stay and tidy up. The only tool in my arsenal I had left was

the element of surprise, as seen in Exhibit A: the condition of my c ar instead of my face.

Alley from other side, cape on ground in foreground, shipping containers, darkness and

shadows


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With a last look at the most recognisable cape in the world and the unrecognisable face of

its owner I limped slowly and painfully back into the alley and away from the streetlights the

distant hum of traffic fading.

Transportation was out of the question since it was crushed beyond repair underneath the

body. That was a pity. I really loved that car. I knew sacrifices were going to be re quired, the

time left on my life for one, but did it have to be the fucking car?

Hobbling between the containers I surveyed the extent of the damage to my body and

decided I wasnt going to be winning pageants any time soon. In a previous life, a life bef ore

tonight, there could have been a real chance. Nothing was broken, which confirmed the

money paid was worth it, more like mangled, crushed. It was going to take some serious

time getting me straightened out. And that much time I didnt think I had. Id be riding out

the fallout a shell within a shell of my former self.

As I stumbled between the containers, taking an inventory of my wounds and avoiding the

path of violent wreckage of the past few hours, I was trying to think of where to go and how

to get there. Understandably my head was fuzzy and losing the car meant a backup plan was

kaput. The original plan was I would die, not that I wanted that to happen; just figured it

would be the most inevitable outcome. The upshot was it didnt really have you pl anning for

the sunny future.

I heard water. Through the gap in the shipping containers I saw masts in the distance and

remembered the marina at the northern end of the shipyard. Water would be perfect; I

found myself really annoyed I didnt think of it bef ore. I could have saved the fucking car!

Hindsight was a ridiculous waste of time, in any situation, and upsetting as it was to lose the

car, I probably needed to work on the priorities of my Escape with My Life To -Do list.

Pier with masts and wharf and w ater and fences

I stood still for a moment to catch my breath. Scanning the starlit sky for company, the wind

picked up and almost concealed the sound of water lapping. Coming to the end of the


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container row the light pooled, I pressed against the steel ag ain and peered around the

corner.

Nobody around, another deeper scan of the area revealed the only inhabitants were rats, no

doubt here for the location. Company or not, I ran as best I could for the first pier.

Destroying the lock, I went straight to the end of the dock. Making the choice as to which

boat was easy and within minutes I was easing her away from the dock and away from

civilisation.

There was an island cove full of rocks with nothing more alive than a few crabs a good

distance east of the pier providing unparalleled views of the entire horizon and excellent

cover from the skies. It would be helpful to weigh anchor for a few hours and figure out

what to do next, as if anything I could do would stop what was going to happen. So if I

couldnt stop what was going to happen, maybe I could affect when.

Boat anchored near a small island, distant view of cityscape and stars

Going below decks I switched on a light and scoured the cupboards for a first aid kit. Finding

exactly what I was looking for I grabbed the bottle and took a swig. Bourbon scorched my

throat and seared the cuts around my mouth. I spluttered almost bringing the mouthful up

again for another taste. Closing my eyes I waited for my stomach to settle and administered

another measured dose.

Behind my blackened eyes the scenes of the past few hours played out like an old silent

movie. The signature stop-start photography, the scenes bathed in red and darkness. My

body jerked involuntarily at the memories of flesh connecting with fists and b ones grinding

in un-silent protest; the earth rushing to meet my body and the car slamming into

My eyes snapped open.Was that a noise from above? Turning off the light I sat in darkness

waiting for my eyes to adjust, ignoring the pounding in my chest a nd checked all the

portholes. Nothing. I lifted the hatch an inch. Scouring the sky for visitors, I tried to place the

speed of sound with its potential maker and follow the noise I heard across the moonlit sky.

Nothing there. Probably nothing. No, nothing .


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I closed the hatch, elected to sit in the dark and grabbed the bottle again. Taking another

swig, I reasoned my nothing. Theyd be more obvious in their arrival; theyd want their

presence to be known. No need to sneak up on anyone. The element of sur prise works in

your favour when you know what youre up against. I should know.

My eyes started to droop and I considered staying awake. I knew that by sleeping Id be

leaving myself exposed but as broken as I was, I could hardly expect to be anything but

vulnerable. I decided it was worth the risk. Completely shattered like this I was an easy

target but with a quick visit from the Sandman I might be a bit of a challenge for them and

that would be nice.

Of course when I decided to sleep it evaded me. My mi nds eye played out the same scenes

in slow motion, enhancing the violence, highlighting the pain and underlining the outcome.

What was taking them so long? Had I over-estimated them? They could feel each others

presence so surely when they lost someone, they had to know, they had to have felt it?

So where were they? And what could I expect when they did come? Id give it half an hour

and then Id scout the area and look for my new enemies. I set the alarm on my crushed

timepiece incredibly still in working order. Closing my eyes I surrendered myself to an

exhausted sleep.

View from the boat, showing the railing and partial hull and the shipping dock with

marina and containers in the distance

The alarm sounded subdued for once. I woke to the gentle lap of water against the hull. My

heart was pumping so hard it cramped. I sat up and immediately regretted the sudden

movement. Eyes squeezed shut to quieten the dead ache in my brain, I tested my limbs and

found none had fallen off in the wee hours, something I was sure might happen given their

state. Standing, I was almost normal; in walking there was considerably less reason to

celebrate.

My range of movement was still severely impaired. Standing I looked a formidable thirty -

four year old man, moving I looked l ike someones granny sixty years older; a well-built,


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once-handsome granny. This was going to be a problem. My head was swimming probably

from the fight but the bourbon didnt really assist matters. Unfortunately it was all there

was to eat so down the hatch the rest went.

In between the fight and the nap I hadnt really taken in the fact of my survival. Human

behaviour drives us to endure, compartmentalising helps us put that survival instinct into

top gear. I felt that if I stopped to think about it Id n eutralise the adrenalin and find myself

in the foetal position with no memory of how I got there, wanting my Mummy to hold me

tight. In a manly way. So I was in the doghouse but not catatonic; I could live with that.

Limping to the hatch I lifted it an inc h and checked the coast, the sky and the rest of the

boat was clear. Never can be too careful; Im sure none of them were beyond sitting on deck

waiting for their quarry to make an appearance. The coast was crystal and so I shuffled up

the stairs aching with every step above sea level.

Checking my watch told me it was half past time to go. I needed to get out of here, get

patched up and getget what? Get milk? Get lost? There was no getting and yet I wasnt

looking for a fight either. The waiting for whatever was going to happen next was becoming

exhausting.

Who would come and when? I could assume who and when I might be able to control if I

stopped procrastinating and got a move on. I started the engine and slipped around the

island back into open water. I decided to make a wide arc around the bay back the way I

came, look for activity. How much and what kind would determine my actual course of

action.

Shipping containers, cityscape, still dark

As I puttered closer to the dock, I scanned the area. Despite my slumber I was no longer

capable of a deeper scan. That would take more than just sleep to revive. I would have to

rely on my wits. I had almost convinced myself that what I was doing wasnt suicide, it was

prudent and Id almost decided to almost believe it when I zeroed in on the first major signs

of the damage from last night.


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A shipping container was almost split in two, the metal was buckled on each side of the split

and when I remembered that a skull had done this, I winced. Drifting closer my eyes strayed

from the container wreckage to the bigger picture.

What I expected to see and what I got were vastly different. I started to shake and almost

altered my course to take me to the nearest non-extradition country. Ahead of me on the

pier, beyond that to the shipping containers laid out like a maze and the highways behind

that, there was nothing and nobody. Everything was deathly quiet. It wasnt just quiet it was

fucking creepy.

I swallowed and to tame the rising panic took a visit to the bright side . Surely no company at

all was better than the entire law enforcement team, hero and otherwise out for early

breakfast patrol and some light murder investigation before brunch? Surely the quiet and

the existence of no one had to be better? No flashing blue lights, no yellow tape, no one

green-lighting a man-hunt. I refused to see the red.

The lack of squad cars, circling helicopters, supernatural beings or meddlesome journalists

with their cameras - surely this is good news? A reason to celebrate! I wasnt convinced and

a little irritated at my optimism.

Before docking the boat I wiped away the traces of my brief overnight stay. The bourbon I

could not replace so the bottle went over the side. I skulked along through the rest of the

pier thankful it was still dark. In daylight I would stick out like a sore thumb if seen. Wearing

black to the marina was not a popular wardrobe choice. Approaching the destroyed lock, I

was propelled forward to the containers. I had to see what no one appeared to be seeing (or

investigating) at this time.

With more grace and speed than my first trip, my strength was very slowly returning, I

followed the path of destruction until I came to the clearing in which the final moments had

taken place. There still wasnt much light here even with the moon charged up, full force;

the containers were stacked like Lego blocks which is why it made such an ideal location last

night.


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Spotting my car from a distance, my heart lurched again. I really missed that fucking car. It

was a sore point I would never get over and that I could think of it at this moment

potentially about to be ambushed, arrested and sentenced to death really said something

about the bourbon.

Eyes on what I could see of the car and its crushed everything, I inched closer an d closer,

eyes scanning the nooks and crannies of the containers until I was only metres away. Taking

a deep breath I was about to step closer when the wind rose and brushed the lighter pieces

of debris around my feet. I looked down and froze.

The cape was gone. I glanced up at the car. So was the body.

End of Chapter 1

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Hero - Part 1 - The Man - Chapter 1