It's A Bird! It's A Plane!

by Steve Beaulieu

  I bowed my head, ashamed.

  Mom caressed my cheek with a trembling hand. “Jared, I’m worried about you. You don’t have any friends, and ever since Nicky…you’ve been be so dark…so morbid. Now I catch you sneaking into the house…”

  I could see tears welling in her eyes and I reached out to her again. This time she didn’t shove me away. She hugged me tightly and started sobbing. I stood there in my dead brother’s room and held her as she wept.

  “Mom, I’m not on drugs,” I whispered. “I hate that crap, and the people that push it.”

  A slight smile formed at the corners of her lips. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  “And I’ll try to do better in school; it’s just…I can’t stop thinking about what happened to Nick.”

  “I know,” she said. “I know.”

  “About tonight. I was…I was hanging out with a kid from school. I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission first.”

  “You better be.” Some of the fire returned to her eyes. “You’re grounded from the comic store for a month.”

  “But Mom…” She clenched her jaw and I knew she wasn’t backing down. I bowed my head and accepted her punishment.

  When I finally got to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the Paladin’s next move. I nearly died at Tom’s apartment, but at least I had the location of the Marauder’s hideout. It was after three in the morning before I drifted off to sleep.

  • • •

  When Carmel Today came out the following Wednesday, Jared was horrified to read about his exploits in the local crime report. The article, labeled Masked Intruder, was listed between a drug arrest and the results of a police checkpoint.

  “I can’t believe this,” Jared muttered as he read the newspaper over a lonely dinner of mac and cheese. “I wanted to be a hero, and now look at me.” He shoved a forkful of noodles into his mouth and chewed without tasting his meal. “Whatever. Before this is all over, I’ll show everyone.”

  An opportunity came several days later, when his mother had to work a double-shift. Jared slipped out of the house, a spare key in his pocket, and headed downtown.

  The Paladin arrived at the Majestic a little after 7 p.m. Carmel was wrapped in a cloak of shadows, and the air was bitterly cold. The antique theatre, unable to compete with newer multiplexes in the outlying suburbs, was boarded up and surrounded by other dilapidated relics of a bygone era.

  The Paladin pedaled down a narrow alley and stopped at a heavy wooden door that led into the theatre. He stashed his bike behind a rusty dumpster, eased the door open, and slipped inside. An ancient staircase rose into the darkness. He swallowed his fear and forced himself to climb the stairs.

  A few minutes later, he stood in a small, dark room that had once held projection equipment. Voices drifted to his ears from the room below and he tensed.

  “…can’t believe that shit. He thinks he’s Captain America or something?”

  “All I know is that if I ever run into the little bastard, I’ll show him a thing or two.”

  Light came on in the theatre and streamed into the room through the open projection window; the Paladin peered through the tiny opening. Dusty curtains colored with alternating streaks of black and red covered the walls, and most of the original seats were still in place. He watched as the first few rows of the theatre began to fill with Marauders. Thirteen…fourteen…fifteen. Damn! They must be having some kind of meeting. His thoughts were interrupted when a broad-shouldered man in a leather trench coat entered the auditorium. The man’s face, framed by long blond hair, was dark and cruel. The rest of the Marauders rose to their feet and began chanting “Griffon! Griffon!”

  Griffon strode to the front, his coat swinging around his legs, and faced his men. “Sit down.”

  The Marauders shut up and obeyed. Griffon stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “I spoke with our benefactor tonight. He promised he’d get the heat off our backs now that Bryant’s in jail.”

  The name tugged at Jared’s memory for a minute until he remembered the drug bust he’d read about in the newspaper.

  “Hey, Griffon,” someone said. “What about this Paladin character?”

  “What about him?”

  “Is he for real, Boss?”

  Griffon turned his head and spat on the floor. “Yeah, he’s real.”

  “What are we gonna do about him?” Tom Cole’s voice rang out from the back row.

  Griffon’s face grew stern. “You see him, I want you to bring him to me. I’ll make sure he ain’t no more trouble…to anyone. Understood?”

  As the Paladin watched, his thoughts tormented him. Last night was a train wreck, and it’s all my fault. I wanted to be Robin, but look at me. Assault…breaking and entering…I’m not Robin, I’m the Punisher. And I’m not sure that’s so wrong. The cops aren’t doing anything, and I’m the only person in the world that cares that Nick’s murder is still unsolved. I know I shouldn’t sink to their level, but how do I fight a group whose entire purpose for existence is to do evil? Jared’s eyes traveled around the fragile curtains lining the theatre, and a grim smile crossed his face. This place is ready to fall down…no one would miss it if it burned to the ground.

  Still smiling, the Paladin reached into his utility belt and removed his slingshot and the road flare he had taken from the trunk of his mother’s car. He slunk back down the long set of stairs and crept into the auditorium. “This one’s for you, Nick,” he whispered in the darkness. Orange flames burst from the end of the flare as he slipped it into his slingshot, took aim at the ancient curtains, and fired. The curtains ignited like flash paper.

  The Paladin turned and raced toward the exit while pandemonium broke out behind him. He was almost free when the door burst open and a thug with a shaved head and a post through his eyebrow stepped into his path. The Paladin lowered his shoulder and rammed the guard. The man took a step back as the Paladin bounced off of him and sprawled backward onto the floor.

  The guard reached for a switchblade, but before he could flick it open, the Paladin yanked the pepper spray from his utility belt. He took a deep gulp of air, held his breath, and fired. The thug bent over and began coughing violently. The Paladin sprang to his feet, shoved past him, and dove out of the door. By that time, the rest of the Marauders were right behind him. Sharp pain exploded across his lower back as someone punched him in the kidneys; he collapsed to his knees. Hands grasped Jared’s arms and dragged him to his feet. He squinted up at Griffon through the haze of pain.

  A thin smile spread over the gangster’s features as he drew back his fist and punched Jared in the guts. The Paladin’s vision blurred as Griffon drew a curved dagger from a sheath hidden underneath his coat.

  I’m sorry, Nick. I’ve failed you. Jared clenched his jaw and awaited death.

  A gunshot echoed down the alleyway, and Griffon clutched at his right shoulder. His dagger clattered against the concrete. The Marauders let go, and the Paladin sank heavily to his knees. Desperate to escape, he began to crawl through the thick smoke that was pouring into the alley from the theatre.

  Jared collapsed behind the dumpster at the end of the alley, and sucked in huge, burning gulps of air. I’m alive. I can’t believe I’m still alive. Now, how do I get out of here? The cops have the alley blocked, and I can’t go through the theatre.

  He scanned what he could see of the alley, and his eyes lit on a small door that led into an abandoned restaurant. Jared grinned, struggled to his feet, and headed for it. “Please, God,” he whispered. “Please let this open.” His hand closed on the handle and he tugged. The door creaked open and relief flooded through him as he stepped into the building.

  Cardboard boxes and musty blankets littered the floor of the old restaurant. Looks like some homeless person has been living in here, Jared thought as he wheeled his bike through the empty building. Once again, dark thoughts festered in his mind. What am I doing? I wanted to bring down the Marauders, but the way things are going, maybe I
should apply for membership.

  The Paladin forced himself to keep walking until he reached the front door of the restaurant. He peeked through the filthy glass and saw firemen and police moving around outside. Frightened and exhausted, the Paladin opened the front door and slipped onto the street. He was halfway down the block, pedaling furiously, when police sirens screamed to life behind him. Flashing blue lights filled the street as he swerved around a parked fire truck and poured on the speed.

  The cop sped around the truck in hot pursuit.

  Jared fled down the street, skidded around the corner of a busy intersection, and narrowly avoided a collision with a small sports car. The driver slammed on his brakes and fishtailed into the cop car as it came around the corner. Echoes of the crash pursued Jared as he turned down a side street and escaped into the night.

  • • •

  In spite of everything that happened that night, I managed to make it back home before my mom. I thought I was free and clear, but I was in for a surprise.

  Everyone was talking about the fire at the Majestic and the capture of the Marauders while my mom and I were at the mall the next day. We were listening to the radio on the way home, and I heard on the news that no one was injured when the police car crashed. I was so relieved. Then the newscaster said how much property damage I caused, and that made me feel like a heel. I’m sorry about that. Really. I didn’t go into this intending to wreck a police car or to set a building on fire…things just got out of control. The police had the guys that murdered my brother, but it didn’t bring Nick back from the dead. By the time we got home, I felt pretty rotten.

  Mom had just left for work that night when there was a knock at the door. I opened it and found myself staring at Detective West, the cop who investigated Nick’s murder. He was in his mid 40s, with graying hair and slightly rounded features. He looked kind of like a short, overweight Jimmy Stewart.

  He looked back at me and hitched his thumbs behind his belt. “Hello, Jared. Mind if I come in?”

  “My mom’s not here right now.”

  “Actually, son, I’d like to have a word with you.”

  My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it was going to burst. “You…you want to talk to me?”

  “Yes. Can I come in?”

  “I don’t…sure, I guess.” I let him in, and tried not to look guilty.

  West sank into a leather chair in the living room while I perched on the edge of the sofa. The detective leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Jared, I know you’re the Paladin.”

  I swallowed and shook my head. “Mr. West, I don’t know what you’re…”

  “Don’t play games with me, son.” The detective reached into his coat pocket and removed a pencil rendering of the Paladin that had appeared in the newspaper. “Look familiar?”

  “No.” My stomach leapt into my throat.

  He smirked. “All right. How about this?” He removed a throwing star from another pocket and held it up. “I was assigned to investigate a break-in at Carmel Commons a few weeks ago. I couldn’t believe my luck when I found a fingerprint on this. Guess what? It matches a print found at the scene of your brother’s murder…yours.”

  “What? I thought…”

  “…that we wouldn’t keep your prints on file after you and your mother were cleared of suspicion? Come on, kid, your brother’s case is still open.” West sat back in his chair and smiled. “I’ve got you, Jared.”

  I winced, then stared at the floor and tried to think of something to say.

  “I should arrest you right now,” the detective said. “You’ve committed a list of crimes as long as my arm: breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, arson, destruction of property…not to mention taking the law into your own hands.”

  I felt tears welling in my eyes. What would my mother say if she saw me carted off to jail?

  “That said, there are certain” ⎯he paused, searching for the right word⎯ “advantages to working outside the law.”

  I stared at Detective West. “What are you saying?”

  “Jared, right now I’m the only person who knows you’re the Paladin. Legally, it’s my responsibility to place you under arrest. But I’m not going to do that.” I stared at him, disbelieving. “Nobody got hurt who didn’t deserve it. You damaged some property, but I’m willing to overlook all that if you’ll do something for me.”

  “Something?”

  West scratched behind his left ear. “The Marauders weren’t working alone in Carmel,” he said at last. “They had some help from someone on the inside.”

  “A benefactor,” I said, recalling the little bit of the meeting I overheard. “I heard Griffon talking about a benefactor right before I…”

  “Good. Then you know that it wasn’t just some low-life hoods that murdered your brother. Oh, they did the actual killing, but it was to profit someone much higher up on the food chain.”

  “Who?” An edge of bitterness crept into my voice.

  “Now, son, if you want to know that, you’re going to have to agree to play the game…my way.”

  “What do you want from me?” I demanded.

  “I want you to help me bring down the Marauders’ benefactor.” West’s jaw clenched with fury. “Everything I have on him is circumstantial, but I know who he is, and I know what he’s capable of. I can’t just barge into his house and start looking for evidence, but if I get a 911 call because the Paladin is there…”

  “You want me to set it up so that you can arrest this guy? Who is he?”

  “Someone important.” Detective West leaned forward, and I could see righteous anger burning in his eyes. “I’m sick of busting my ass every day for nothing because somebody with connections is getting their palms greased. I’m sick of it, and now that I’ve got you, I can finally do something about it.”

  “I almost died last night. Do you really think I want to risk my life again?” I was still aching from the beating I’d received, but that wasn’t the reason I was holding back with Detective West. I wanted more than anything to destroy Griffon and anyone even remotely connected with that murdering son-of-a-bitch. What I was afraid of was that this was some kind of trap. Maybe West was lying about the fingerprint.

  “Jared,” he said. “I’m not giving you a choice here. I don’t think it would be hard for me to make your life a living hell. Now, I need you to do what I ask, or I’m going to have to take you down to the station.”

  I stared at him in horror. “You’re serious?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I’d wager that you became the Paladin to exact revenge on the people who murdered your brother. Am I right?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m giving you the opportunity to do just that. Now all you have to do is take it. Otherwise, you can say hello to your new home at Juvenile Hall.” Our eyes met, and I could see that he was serious.

  “I’ll do it,” I said, realizing that I was out of options. “Now tell me who this benefactor is.”

  “That’s a good boy,” said West. He smiled a satisfied smile. “The rumors have been buzzing for years now, but there’s never been any way to prove it. The man were going after is Ed Dixon, the Deputy-Mayor.”

  Everything turned black. “The Deputy-Mayor? He’s involved with the Marauders?”

  “Yes. I’ve been trying to bring him down forever, and now I’m finally going to do it. And, Jared, there’s something else. I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention to the news, but Griffon was released on bail about two hours ago.”

  My blood froze. “Released?”

  “Wanna take a guess where the money came from?”

  I shook my head, disbelieving. “That’s crazy.”

  “It’s not crazy,” West snapped, “it’s bullshit. This town was like Mayberry when I came here 15 years ago, and now look at it. Drugs…crooked politicians…I’m sick of standing by and watching my town go to hell. That’s why I need you.”

  I was furious…
I wanted to kill Griffon. The thought that he could get out of jail just like that while Nick was lying cold in the ground made me crazy⎯if Griffon had walked into my house right then, I swear I would have cut his throat. “I hate this $#@!# town!” I balled my hand into a fist and punched the sofa’s wooden armrest. Pain shot up my arm, but I didn’t care.

  Detective West ignored my outburst. He rose and walked over to the door. “I’ll be in touch soon. Until then, I want you to get healthy, keep in shape, and stay out of trouble.”

  I stared at his back as he let himself out. After several minutes, I headed upstairs to my room, feeling as low and as lonely as I’d ever been in my life.

  • • •

  Thanksgiving came and went with hardly a whimper. As the weeks passed, as Jared’s body healed and his thoughts simmered with revenge, he began to wonder when Detective West was going to call in the Paladin for his secret mission. “I hope it’s soon,” he muttered as he slammed his locker door and headed for his school bus. Carmel Middle School had just let out for Christmas break, and Jared was now facing the prospect of two lonely weeks at home.

  I wish Nick were still here, he thought. Memories of his brother bombarded the teenager’s mind. It’s been over a year now…I wonder if I’ll ever stop thinking about him. He climbed the steps into the bus and flopped into the first available seat. Pulling the latest issue of Nightwing from his book bag, he began to read. He was on page 3 when he registered a flurry of brown plaid from the corner of his eye. Looking up, his eyes fell on Shannon White, a pretty brunette who sat behind him in English, as she walked past. A minute later, she was standing over him, her green eyes sparkling behind a pair of glasses.

  “Hi, Jared,” she said pleasantly. “Can I sit here?”

  “Sure.” Jared moved his book bag out of the way.

  “The bus is full today,” she said as she sat down.

  Jared stared at his comic, but he couldn’t concentrate. Shannon was sitting right beside him⎯she was so close that he could feel it every time she took a breath. I wish I had the courage to say something to her, he thought. He stole a glance at her over the top of Nightwing. She was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, a pair of white earbud headphones plugged into her ears and a little pink iPod clipped to her skirt; he quickly turned back to his comic, not wanting to get caught staring.