Human Superior

by C. S. Won

  “Hang him! Kill him! We demand justice!” Gabe commanded, slurring his words. He pressed his lips together in a thin, hard line and crinkled his nose in a show of anger, his eyes brimming with so much hatred that Jae thought he could see flames flickering in his pupils.

  Jae attempted to muzzle him. “Calm down, Gabe. You’re causing a—”

  “I’ll kill him myself!”

  Minah slipped an arm around Gabe’s waist and whispered in his ear. Whatever words she spoke seemed to soothe his rancor, as he closed his eyes and nodded, murmuring an apology about his outburst, and promising to keep calm. She patted him on the back, nodded in approval, then ran a hand through her shoulder-length, ink-black hair. The large, decorative Rose of Sharon tattoo on her bare arm flexed as she did so. An old high school flame of Gabe’s, Minah was someone he had been involved with over the years, a relationship that was more on-and-off than a light switch. They were the type of couple who loved to hate each other, but also hated that they loved each other.

  “No one blows up my city!” Gabe shouted suddenly. Whatever spell Minah had cast had already lost its effect, likely dulled by the indignant alcohol-fueled fire that burned in Gabe’s belly. Jae saw a street bench spotlighted by a nearby lamppost just a short distance away and figured a good sit could calm him down.

  “Let’s stop for a second,” Jae said, leading the way.

  Minah agreed and dragged Gabe by the sleeve to follow suit. When they arrived, Jae took Gabe’s other arm and helped him ease onto his seat, taking care to make sure he was at least sitting straight up and not slouched forward, lest he fall and sink towards the ground. When Jae finally took his seat, Gabe draped an arm around his shoulders, and leaned in close to his ear.

  “When you find Daniel, I hope you make the son of the bitch pay. Wring him like a wet towel with that strength of yours. Bleed him dry,” Gabe said. His breath was strong and rank with alcohol. “Take pictures after you cave his head in.”

  Jae gently pushed him away, so that he wasn’t so close. “Concentrate on sobering up. You’re a mess.”

  Gabe poked a finger at him. “You’re the hero of Atlanta. Heroes do the right thing, which means you’ll do the right thing.”

  “I’m no hero.”

  “Yes, you are! You are a hero. You do . . . heroic things. That puckered asshole of a shit-stain doesn’t stand a chance against you!”

  “Honey, hush. You’re being too loud,” Minah told Gabe.

  It seemed Gabe was not only drunk on spirits, but high on fantasies as well. “I highly doubt I’ll ever get close enough to Daniel to do much of anything,” Jae said.

  Gabe pulled back in dismay. “But I thought you said Morgan was going to help you? Is he not going to anymore?”

  “That’s still up in the air.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust Morgan.”

  “But . . . but Daniel!”

  “Would I like to stop Daniel? Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? I know you do. But I can’t shake this feeling that if Morgan lends me a hand, then it’s going to lead to something worse down the line. If I want to stop Daniel, then I think I’m going to have to do it on my own terms, and no one else’s.”

  Gabe chuckled and patted Jae on the arm. “Listen, I hear you man. Morgan is a steaming pile of shit. I’m in agreement there. But he’s not a criminal mastermind. He doesn’t have any kind of ulterior motive. Just because he’s rich doesn’t make him evil.”

  “It’s not about his wealth. It’s about who he is. His reputation precedes him. The man is no stranger to controversy. He operates a company of trained killers for hire. He deals in human misery.”

  “Then who better to stop a madman on the loose, then someone who gets paid to do that?”

  “The thing is, even if he is being sincere about stopping his son, I can’t help but think that this is beyond me, beyond any of us. Something like this—it’s what countries go to war over. I have to wonder if a lot more people are probably going to have to die before this thing ever gets resolved.”

  “Damn.” Gabe’s lips creased into a frown. The flush on his face was starting to fade, as was that dazed, faraway look in his eyes. “Well . . . either way, whoever ends up giving it to the kid, I hope they give it to him real good. I want no mercy.”

  “I still don’t understand why Atlanta was even targeted. It makes no sense. Why us? We didn’t do anything. We’re just simply here. There’s nothing high profile about our city. All we have are peaches and Chick-Fil-A,” Minah said.

  “Most of the buildings that were blown up housed divisions of Morgan’s businesses. The motive was both financial and personal. Daniel just wanted to hurt him,” Jae said.

  “So they’re feuding?”

  Jae nodded. Minah snorted her disbelief.

  Gabe spoke up. “You know what I don’t get? The deafening silence. Despite the fact that we just had a number of major bombings on American soil, no one apparently has any idea on who the culprit is. We obviously know because you already told us, but no one else does. Why? Where’s the news? Where’s the updates? Aren’t those stiffs at the FBI usually on top of this sort of thing? So far, we’ve gotten nothing from them. Nada. Zilch. They just keep regurgitating the same, ‘an investigation is underway. We have nothing further,’ bullshit over and over again. People want answers, and that’s the best they can come up after all this time? Does that not strike anyone here as a little odd?”

  All true, and all very worrying. The lack of any real answers from the people in charge of this investigation certainly raised eyebrows. Did Morgan’s reach really extend that far that he could silence the feds? Could he really suppress the results of an investigation just so his own name didn’t get sullied?

  “The people demand answers!” Gabe said.

  “What’s to stop you or Jae from coming forward with what you know?” Minah asked.

  “No one would believe us. The information needs to come from an authoritative body,” Jae said.

  “Give us what we want! Give us what we want!” Gabe tried to start a chant but stopped when Minah patted him on the knee.

  Whatever stragglers that had remained on their block had thinned out. The lack of business prompted managers to lock their doors early and hope for a more productive night tomorrow, neon lights dimming to let the darkness settle in. With midnight afoot, the only light source left to stave off the darkness was the illumination provided by the lamppost above their heads, seemingly growing brighter in contrast to the burgeoning obscurity outside their cone. From the south, strips of cloud formation marched in, large enough to conceal much of the moon, but not bountiful enough to induce rain.

  Gabe sighed. “Screw it. Whatever. All this talk about bombings and terrorists and government incompetence is really killing my vibe. Let’s talk about something else, something more important.”

  “Please tell me you’re not going to change the subject to what I think you’re going to change it to,” Minah said.

  Gabe placed a hand on Jae’s shoulder. “So, it’s been a few months now.”

  “Oh god, I knew it. Just like clockwork.”

  Gabe ignored Minah and let his statement hang there, as if it was something worthy of suspense. Jae shrugged. “And?”

  “We were mired in a long winter, and spring was a disappointment. Too cold, as were the people. But summer is here, and with it, record highs, the likes of which we haven’t experienced in years. Do you know what that entails?”

  “Air conditioning?” Minah suggested.

  Gabe ignored her again. “It means that despite recent, unfortunate happenings, love is in the air. The season is ripe for it.”

  Minah sighed. “Here we go again. Listen, honey, I told you before, you need to give Jae his space and let him—”

  Gabe shushed her, pushing a finger to his lips, then shot her a scowl, his face spelling out his profound annoyance in so many different little expressions. “Jae . . . every good man needs a good woman. You
can agree with me there, right? It is a universal truth. Without a woman, he lacks fulfillment. He lives half a life. A man is only whole when a woman completes him, so when he’s missing that vital piece, things can feel a bit empty and pointless. So when you’re—”

  “You want me to start seeing someone again,” Jae said, interrupting him. He looked at Gabe. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Gabe threw his hands up in a defensive posture, almost as if he knew what he was saying was intensely stupid and he was expecting to get hit for it. “Don’t get me wrong. Madeline was a great girl, one-of-a-kind. We all miss her, we really do. But you’ve been down in the dumps for quite some time now, and I think we all know why. Frankly, it sucks to see. It tears me up inside, because the only thing I want is for you to be whole and happy again buddy, and I really think meeting someone new can help you feel . . . complete again.”

  Minah buried a hand into her face. “Good lord, Gabe, that’s not something for you to decide. Leave him alone.”

  “Look, all I’m saying is that loneliness can be a killer. You’re Atlanta’s most eligible bachelor. You’ve got the looks, you’ve got a great job, and you even have a little bit of fame. That shit is catnip for the right woman. It’s been a few months now, and all I’m saying is that I think meeting some new people can do wonders for you.”

  Jae didn’t say anything. He just looked up at the pitch-black sky.

  “What about Andrea? I thought that was going places?” Gabe prodded.

  “Not happening,” Jae said.

  “I get it. It’s weird. Adam’s sister? Probably not on the cards. But how about this. Do you remember Bora Eun, back when we were in high school? Ridiculously cute, banging body, and rumored to have a huge crush on you?”

  “Vaguely,” Jae said.

  “Well, she just flew into town for some corporate function, and she let me know that she is very open to the idea of meeting you. Just say the word and I can arrange a date right here, right now. What do you say?”

  Jae had nothing to say. When that became apparent, Gabe nudged Minah for encouragement. “Go on. Tell him how Bora still has the hots for him.”

  “Gabe—”

  “Come on!”

  Minah sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Gabe speaks honestly. Bora still clings onto that old crush.” She took her phone out and pulled up her collection of photos, swiping through it several times until she landed on a particular one. She handed Jae the phone. “This was her, about two months ago.”

  In the picture—which was taken more in the style of a selfie—it showed Bora sitting at a restaurant table, leaning on one hand, and appearing academic and poised, almost as if she was deep in meditative thought and not posing for a photo. Her hair was cut in a bob, the ends of it gathered into a collective curl, shimmering and black as midnight. Her face was impossibly clean, as if it was crafted from the most immaculate of marble, and her eyes, clear and focused, were as bright as stars. Her lips, full and red, curled in the slightest of smiles, with a faint dimple creasing in her cheeks.

  “She is beautiful,” Jae said, handing the phone back to Minah.

  Gabe looked excited. “So, you’ll meet her then? Do you want me to arrange a meeting, or do you want to call her yourself? I can give you her number.”

  No, Jae thought, not when Madeline’s memory still burned bright as the sun. A few months or not, the thought of being with another woman was still too radical of an idea, more akin to betrayal than consideration.

  “Let me think about it,” Jae said. He really wasn’t going to, but he only said it to get Gabe off his back. A noncommittal answer, but that seemed good enough for Gabe, who nodded with stupid glee at Minah.

  “See, I told you he’d come around!” Gabe said.

  Jae checked the time on his phone. Midnight had come and gone. The darkness of the new day was already upon them. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should—”

  A large explosion erupted in the distance behind them, loud enough to deafen Jae, strong enough to push him forward, disruptive enough to shake the ground beneath his feet. He heard a scream—Minah’s—and he turned, gasping, his eyes going huge at the great tower of pulsating fire rising up in the distance, the size of it bleeding into the sky, illuminating the blackened horizon in a bright, seething shade of red, orange, and white.

  “Oh my god,” Gabe said.

  The fire shifted into a giant, billowing mushroom cloud, the insides flashing with boiling, bright flames. Screaming debris shot out in all directions, dispersing like a shower of streaking comets, punching jagged holes, and carving deep cuts into nearby buildings. Jae heard the shocked murmurs of a gathering crowd close by.

  Jae stood, and took a step forward, then another, then broke off into a sprint, running towards the direction of the destruction.

  “Wait!” he heard Gabe yell out, but his legs kept pounding, unwilling to stop, not until he reached the site of Atlanta’s newest terror attack.

  Chapter Twelve

  The 1180 Peachtree building, all forty-one stories of its steel and glass body, had been toppled, brought down in a blazing, fiery instant by an attack no one saw coming. A gigantic, swirling smoke stack was all that remained of it, the summit of it smeared across the skies, turning the night to an even murkier pitch of darkness.

  Jae sat at the back bumper of a firetruck. His clothes bore the wounds of serrated gashes and frayed tears, brought on by the sharp stones and debris he had lifted as he fought to find survivors—survivors that, once again, he could not find. Too many had been vaporized by the explosion, their existence cleansed so thoroughly that nothing was left behind except for the devastation that took them.

  He heard a tired groan next to him. Minah sat at his side, her knees curled up against her body, her head resting on her arms, and her skin mottled with bruises and cuts. Without any insistence on anyone’s part, she had jumped straight into the chaos, wearing only a face mask as protection before thrusting her bare arms into the hot, sharp stones that were set before her. She fought hard to find someone—anyone—buried amidst the burning ruin, but just like Jae, her efforts were all for naught, her valiant efforts procuring nothing. But her failures did little to deter her. Each stone she overturned only encouraged her to try again, working tirelessly without complaint or scowl, until Jae had to finally pull her away before she worked the skin off her arms. Away from the devastation, she had wept.

  “You okay?” Jae asked her.

  Minah lifted her head, her eyes glassy with fatigue, and her face flushed and smeared with dried tears. For a long while she did not answer.

  “Not really,” she finally said.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Jae said, even though he knew it wouldn’t be. It was an empty and meaningless statement, but it was the first and only thing that came to mind, and he felt he needed to say something.

  Gabe shambled out of the smoke, looking like a man rising from the dead, and made his way over to them. He sat next to them with a forceful thump. Exhaustion, weariness, anger, and frustration took their turns to mark their place on Gabe’s face. Something rumbled up his throat, and a wad of grey spit flew from his lips.

  “Fuck Daniel Duffy,” Gabe said.

  They sat in silence, taking the devastation in, or as best as one could hope to take it in. It proved too much for Minah to bear, as she began to cry again, softly into her arms. Gabe curled an arm around her, keeping her close. That scene was mimicked everywhere around Jae, with friends, loved ones, and even strangers embracing one another in sobbing helplessness.

  “What are we going to do?” Gabe asked.

  Jae could have said something to the effect of, “we need to stop Daniel,” but the utterance of it would have been pointless. Of course they needed to stop Daniel. That much was obvious. What they needed now was a plan, something that would stop these attacks now and forever, and as Jae took in the devastation around him, breathing in the pain, the loss, and the destruction, it was starting to
become clear what he needed to do.

  “Hey, isn’t that Andrea?” Gabe asked.

  Jae looked up, and some distance away he saw Andrea Erste, her clothes torn and disheveled, sitting on the curb and staring at nothing with an empty look in her eyes.

  “What is she doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” Jae stood and went over to her. Andrea didn’t seem to notice him coming, her eyes not moving from their fixed position, and they continued to not move even as he sat down next to her.

  “Andrea?” Jae said.

  A couple of blinks to signify she heard something, but when she turned to look at Jae, she just stared. There was no glimmer of recognition, no twitch of familiarity, no eyes widening in mild surprise. Only dead, blank nothing, staring right through him.

  Jae gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Andrea, are you okay?”

  The touched seemed to jostle her from her torpor. She blinked a few more times, then took in a large gasp of air, as if she was learning how to breathe again.

  “Jae . . . ?” Andrea paused to look at the ruin around them, at the towering pillar of smoke that lorded over all, at the small fires that still burned, at the panicked, desperate attempts to aid, to help, and to start the recovery. People torn apart. People dying. People already dead. People crying. She buried her face in her hands, as if trying to blot it all away. “Oh, god.”

  Jae tore off a shred of his sleeve and handed it to her. “What are you doing here? How did you even get here?”

  She took the torn cloth and wiped her nose with it. “My friend lives in a loft just a few blocks down, and I felt and saw the explosion while I was there. I rushed over here and . . .” She drifted away and buried her face again. Her arms, just like Minah’s, were covered to the elbows with ash, bruises, and cuts, the mark of someone who had been furiously working to find survivors. Jae patted her on the shoulder.

  Gabe and Minah came over. They nodded at Andrea when she looked up at them, and she returned the exchange, and Minah briefly introduced herself. They sat down in front of Jae and Andrea, forming a small circle.