“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything…and nothing. Do you remember hearing about those people plunging themselves out of buildings when they lost their stocks?”
The Arrow nodded, his face still stoic.”
“Well, that just shows that humanity’s evolution toward brain power has been incomplete…not fully productive.” He smiled. “Despite my own genius, I recognize the problems that have happened over the last…well, since the few people migrated northeast of the cradle of our kind and began the mutations that would eventually lead a great deal of the world toward this.”
“And what, exactly, does that mean.”
“It means, my dear hero…” …the man moved toward his throne-like chair… “…that I’ve been striving to return the physical fitness to the human race so that we can survive. Things won’t go on like this forever. The population will increase, and the intelligent will compete with the brutes over the right to survive.” He reached down toward the table beside the throne.
“So…what is it you plan to do?”
“Plan? Oh, no…it’s what I am doing! Look around.” He swung his arm, indicating the length and breadth of the chamber.
The Arrow looked, his eyes moving, scanning, taking in the details of the layout. There were a few of the giants there, in various states of disfigurement, standing, making their wheezing sound. And there were others, in various states of change, scattered around in cages, some locked in chains, others seemingly unable to move.
“These are my subjects. I’ve found, using certain herbal preparations that – well, never mind, I don’t believe my research into double helixes will mean a thing to you.” He reached down and took the Arrow’s mask from the table, studying it for a moment. “You won’t be needing this any longer.” He tossed it aside.
“So…I’m going to become one of your ‘monsters’ now?” The Arrow stared the Professor straight in the eyes.
“Oh, no, my dear Arrow…these creatures are simply a phase of my research. But you…”
“Your people are closer to the original stock of humanity…ruder, tougher, with less of the brain mutations that are helping to ruin this world. And, as such…with your excellent physique, and the obvious skills you’ve had to use in your current position…you form the ideal subject for the next phase of my experimentation.” He reached over and pushed a button. Immediately, the Arrow was hoisted up into the air by the chains attached to the manacles around his wrists. When he reached the height, the chains began moving…heading him toward some kind of bubbling, steaming vat full of glop.
He began struggling, writhing, trying to figure some way out of this.
“Say goodbye, Mr. Arrow…your days are gone. Look boldly at the new world!”
***
Eddie’s uncles were dead within six months of the stock market crash. The Arrow’s records, for that time and later, give no indication of exactly how they died. It is known, however, that he stood at their graves months later, sighing and giving what he thought would be his last respects to them. Then, his back toward the past, he began the next step in his life. Getting into the truck that was part of his inheritance, he drove off.
For several years he squatted in a little cabin in the woods, living off the land, and occasionally doing things with the Seminole, who lived nearby. His shooting became better, and he kept the few articles he’d saved from the circus days, carefully wrapped and packaged. Though he needed some of it, there was much that he had no use for, but couldn’t bear to part with.
Eventually, someone showed up, claiming to be the owner of the property Eddie lived on. He came with officers with guns, and told Eddie he had only a short time to get out or they’d throw him out. Eddie spent the next 24 hours packing everything he had in the back of the now much used truck, and headed north…to New York City.
When he got there, he looked at the tall buildings, the crowded streets, the scent of things in the air and smiled. Somehow…he’d come home.
Though he didn’t have much money, he did have a plan. He went to the Metropolitan Museum and spoke to the Curator, whom he’d contacted earlier.
“So…what is it you wished me to see?”
“These.” Eddie unpacked several of the packages he’d brought in, and laid some items out on the display table that sat nearby. The Curator examined them, and nodded.
“I remember some of these…they were part of the exhibition that your uncles had put together. But…” …the man frowned… “…I’m afraid I don’t have any use for them here. I’m sorry, Edward…I wish you the best of luck.”
Dejected, the young man packed his belongings and started heading toward the door.
“Just a minute.”
Edward turned, a puzzled look on his face.
“Some of those items look pretty well kept. And though many had obviously been used…I know it’s been a few years since your uncles died. How did they stay in such great repair. Some of those things are nearly a hundred years old.”
The young man smiled. “I was taught how to do that by some of them in the company. And I’ve been doing it myself since then.”
The Curator nodded. “Come with me.” They walked down a long hallway, and ended up far from the man’s office, in the back of the building where the display routes didn’t lead. He opened a small door and waved Edward in.
“I’ve got something here to test your skills.” He pointed toward a table on which several beat-up objects of historical interest were laid. “We just lost our chief restorer, and there’s enough happening right now that his assistant can’t keep up with the demand. We’ve been assisting other museums in this restoration work.” He smiled, his arm sweeping to indicate the repair materials around the room. “Work on these awhile, and I’ll check back in a few hours to see how you’re doing.”
And with that Edward got his job at the Metropolitan Museum.
***
The chains drew him onward, and soon he was above the bubbling cauldron, large enough to hold a man. It was deep; the steel walls lined with something about two feet thick…something the Arrow couldn’t identify.
As he moved, the force of his efforts to free his hand scraped his wrists and blood started trickling down; flowing down the length of his arm. He stopped…no sense in that, he’d need his bow arm after he got out, he thought.
“I am looking forward to this.” The Professor smiled. “Most of my subjects are screaming and yelling by now, some pleading for their release, others simply wailing at what they believe is their fate. But you…” …the man threw out his arms in an expansive gesture… “…you strive to escape, to set your own course in the world, to avoid the destiny that now is yours.” He chuckled, his finger pushing a button.
The chains turned around the pulley above, lengthening, decreasing the Arrow’s height. As he approached the vat, he moved his legs up, delaying the plunge into the glop for as long as he could. His arms now valiantly struggled against the manacles, the injuries no longer a consideration in his mind.
But it was to no avail, the descent continued. And, with the pressing of a second button, the Arrow, every nerve in his body screaming with pain, plunged into the glop.
***
For a few years Edward lived life well. His museum job helped pay the bills, and nights, he took the sax one of the musicians in the show had given him and wailed it out at various places. Though it took a while, he soon earned his reputation. There are stories that he even played the Cotton Club.
And then came Tanya.
She was an artist in the Harlem Renaissance. Though her skills had made some paintings that went for a bit, her true skills and her heart – until Edward came along – was in photography. Though some of her living came from sales to various newspapers, it was in the exhibitions that the true value of her work became known. Investors, knowing the quality of her work, began purchasing some of her photographs.
The Arrow’s journals don’t cover the part of
Edward meeting her for the first time…the pages for that time are ripped out. But there are some things about her in them.
She was prim and proper, always dressing elegantly. Her beauty was extraordinary. And she disdained the slang Edward had picked up in the jazz clubs, preferring good enunciation as the New York Intelligentsia practiced. So he began making sure to use his “telephone voice” he’d picked up from his uncles with her.
And, of course, she…wanted to wait until marriage.
Richard knew that’s what he wanted to do. So, after a while, when they dated, he got up the courage to buy the engagement ring, and shortly proposed. She accepted.
It was an unusual day that June in 1938. There was a concert nearby, and they decided to go. The performers included Count Basie, the Andrews Sisters, Benny Goodman and many other noted performers from the day, whose songs were going out through the air waves across the country. Jazz, it seemed, was here to stay, and they enjoyed the festivities.
After a while, having recognized Edward in the crowd, one of the performers came to the mike.
“Friends, we have among us tonight one of the hottest sax men playing these days…and we want him to come on stage with us now for a jam.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I ask you now to join in a round of applause for…Edward Bowyer!”
With an expression of surprise on his face, Edward looked around. There was a knowing smile on Tanya’s face, and she waved him up there.
The improv set they played there was one of the classics. Though it was never recorded and wasn’t broadcast, the tales of that day were passed down for several generations and written up in Langley’s “The Jazz Greats” and other texts from those times. When the show ended, Edward came down, exhilarated, and rejoined his new fiancee.
And it was then that they headed to…that movie.
***
The Arrow writhed beneath the surface of the glop, his skin burning, his eyes watering; the bubbling around him growing stronger by the moment. He lost all track of the time, no idea how long he was down there. He knew that eventually he had to open his mouth and the glop went into him…into his lungs. But he could breathe it. Somehow, the substance was able to go in and out of him, and though his breathing was now labored, he didn’t suffocate.
He kept struggling, unable to give it up, pitting his strength against the chains and manacles, but making no more difference than when he’d been hanging outside the vat.
Until one of the chains cracked.
The Arrow heard the popping noise as a line appeared on the surface of the chain. Surprised, he pulled harder. The gap opened, and began to separate. Soon the link was broken, and the Arrow’s arm came plummeting down.
He did the same with the other, then grabbed one of the manacles with the other hand. The metal crumpled, no longer resistant to his strength. After undoing the other, he reached down and did the same to the manacles around his legs.
Now freed, the Arrow pushed upward and the strength in his legs sent him through the glop and his face broke the surface. He kicked, reached the edge of the cauldron, and held on, pulling himself up and out of the metal bucket. Then he looked around.
And saw carnage.
The cell doors were all open now, and though some were empty, most still had something in them. The bodies of the occupants lay within their cells, some appearing torn apart, as if by some strong wild beast; others, with their throats slit, the blood surrounding their fallen corpses. There were no signs of either the Professor or the creatures he’d created.
Then, he heard a noise.
Moving quickly, he donned his mask, grabbed his bow and arrow, and made it up the skylight over the room within a matter of minutes. Then the police entered as the door broke down. He looked down at them.
“Some mad scientist did this…him and his crew. I’ll be following up on this.” And with those words, he vanished through the skylight.
***
The movie starred Errol Flynn in The Adventures of Robin Hood. Tanya cuddled close to Edward, especially during the rescue scenes near the end. When it ended they headed out into the streets.
“He’s just so…so dashing! The way he helped all those people…I especially liked how he escaped from the castle.” She smiled, reaching over toward his chest.
He frowned and shrugged. “I don’t know…seemed like a show-off to me.”
“You don’t understand…he was doing it all for the people. After all, not everyone can do what he did.”
“I can!”
“Oh, Edward…”
He headed toward the street, jumping up, and pushing himself upward on top of a mailbox. “Just watch this, Tanya!” He hurtled outward, landing on the top of a taxi-cab, the driver of which started cussing him out.
“See?” He ignored the shouts of the balding driver.
“Edward Bowyer, you get off of that! I won’t have the police taking you away the same day we get engaged!” She appeared to be angry, but Edward could see the hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth.
And then a gunshot resounded. They looked off in the direction it had come from. Around a corner came a car, filled with thugs, one hanging out the passenger window and firing at a pursuing cop car.
“Tanya! Get down!” Edward screamed, seeing where they were headed. But it was too late.
A single shot was all it took. It’s uncertain where it hit her. Though Edward thought it was in her head, the account he left much later – when he’d discovered the hidden chambers beneath the Metropolitan Museum, where he could keep his private journal in secrecy – with one of the masked mystery men…the Clock, or one of the two people calling themselves that…is unclear.
“NO!” He screamed, rushing toward her. “Hold on love…” He looked up, screaming, “Help! Someone, help her! Please!”
She looked up at him, her blood flowing, and whispered, with almost no strength left, “Edward…remember me…” And with that, her eyes closed and she never spoke again.
Though Edward believed right then that she was dead, the ambulance that came thought differently. There were some signs of life, so they loaded her into the back of the hearse-like vehicle, and took the pair off.
But they passed the closest hospital.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re taking her to Harlem Hospital for treatment.”
“No…you just passed one. She needs to get to the closest one.”
“We can’t do that.”
“She’s dying! Take her there!”
“No can do, bub.”
Angrily, Richard moved forward in the cramped confines of the vehicle, toward the driver. But the orderly stopped him, an angry expression on his face.
“Look, nigger, we got her, and we’re taking her to the only place one of your kind might get help. Even if we did take her there, she wouldn’t get treated. So it’s Harlem or nowhere. Got it?”
Stunned, Edward sat, motionless, the weaving of the car throwing him around.
And Tanya died that day, nearly eighty years ago, for the simple reason that she was Black.
***
After her death, things moved quickly. Knowing that the police had little chance of finding the gunman, Edward donned the garb he’d inherited from the circus, including the mask, and for the first time, he went out as the Arrow. He captured the gang, but they got off in court…most likely because his testimony came from a Black man about a white man.
With the gunman’s release, Edward continued his guise as the Arrow, and eventually caught the trio again, with the assistance of a young Japanese man whom Edward let have the original mask. He fought many street thugs, and brought many to justice, reserving the fatal black arrow he carried for those un-prosecutable that he knew for a fact were guilty.
***
Eventually, the Professor ran across his trail. And the Arrow, now possessing incredible strength, did trace him down to a mountain hideaway where the operation was shut down for good.
The Arrow’s career after the bombing of Pearl Harbor is sketchy, as the records don’t go beyond that. Though it covers some major items – his membership in the Fair Players’ Club and the Centurions – his role in defeating the Eski-Mongolian Invasion after the first Wonder Villain group formation, his “retirement” in frustration when some tried to get him to use gimmicked arrows, and the assumption of the Arrow mantle by his government liaison, Ralph Payne, are all items on record.
Though largely forgotten by the world at large, the original Arrow has the distinction of differing from the masked mystery men that appeared before his debut, both the fictional ones and the ones that appear to have basis in the events of the time. Though there was a tale of a wonder-powered man in the comics of the time that was released shortly before Tanya’s death, and the purple-clad African adventurers had become published by that time, the Arrow has the distinction of being the first of the new generation of Costumed Adventurers that arose in the years before World War II to help combat the Nazi menace.
And his death and final fate are, as far as anyone is aware, still unknown…
THE SUPERHERO’S FATTER COUSIN
Valerie Puissant
The scent of rotting flowers assaulted my sensitive nostrils. I looked up from the bonsai tree I was trying to trim and stared into the saddest, most wilted flower bouquet I had ever seen. Beyond the bouquet, I spied the slightly wall-eyed gaze of my best friend, Starkeisha Berry. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you how to knock? What if I had been in here naked or, I don’t know, doing important guy things?” I tried to sound irritated, but I’d known her since kindergarten and we both knew she never bothered to knock.
She rolled her slightly misaligned eyes, then wiggled the foul smelling arrangement in my face. “Well? Can you fix em? It’s Momma’s birthday today and I didn’t have no money to get her nothing.”
“Do I even want to know where you got this from? You haven’t been grave robbing have you?”
Black Power- The Superhero Anthology Page 35
