It's A Bird! It's A Plane! Read online

  STEVE BEAULIEU PRESENTS:

  A SUPERHERO ANTHOLOGY

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Authors retain all rights to their individual stories.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover Design by Steve Beaulieu

  Print and ebook formatting by Steve Beaulieu

  CONTENTS

  FOREWORD: TODD BARSELOW

  GEEK GURL RISING: CHRIS POURTEAU

  ANNA: PATRICIA GILLIAM

  THE ROACH RISES: RHETT C. BRUNO

  THE PALADIN: KEVIN G. SUMMERS

  CLEANVIEW: HALL & BEAULIEU

  PHOTO OP: CHRISTOPHER J. VALIN

  MERCURIAL: ALEXIA PURDY

  ONE LAST TIME: ANDY PELOQUIN

  HERO WORSHIP: JOSH HAYES

  AN ORDINARY HERO: A Pantheon Short: C.C. EKEKE

  THE SPOTLIGHT: JEFFREY BEESLER

  FADE: JOSI RUSSELL

  This book is lovingly dedicated to a man whom none of us knew but who changed our lives forever.

  Adam West—you are Batman.

  You are the hero we all wanted and Gotham deserved. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the laughs. And thank you for igniting the flames of our imaginations.

  September 19, 1928 - June 9, 2017

  FOREWORD

  BY TODD BARSELOW

  Superheroes, of a sort, have long been staples of literature, and I’m not just talking about comic books, either. I’d venture to say that the modern superheroes—those with the extraordinary superhuman or supernatural powers used for good—are better examples, but it could be argued that figures from the Bible such as David (he of the Goliath-slaying fame) and Samson (he of the locks of strength) are early visions of what modern day superheroes would become, though the term superhero didn’t come into usage until the early 1900s. And I’m sure there are even earlier examples of superhero-type characters—let’s forget about the pantheons of gods peppered throughout history—appearing in both written and oral stories. I’m no historian, mind you, but I’d be willing to lay down a day’s pay on that.

  Among those predecessors, we find the likes of Robin of Locksley, better known as Robin Hood, whose tales, for me, were the earliest literature I read (gasp…I didn’t read comic books as a kid, only when I got older) in which a central figure was heroic, relieving the wealthy of their wealth and easing the burdens of the poor by distributing that wealth to them. Not necessarily the best way to go about being a superhero, I’d say, but a good example of how certain central themes can be found that run through most superhero tales, modern and otherwise.

  The collection you’re about to read illustrates and highlights many of those persistent themes: the oppressed overcoming oppression; good facing off versus evil and triumphing; the indomitable will of the human spirit coming to the forefront, despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles and circumstances, oftentimes tragedies. These stories have it all, everything you expect from a superheroic tale, with enough twists and turns—some blindsides, fair warning—to keep you satisfied.

  Chris Pourteau leads us out of the gate with his story “Geek Gurl” Rising, a quick but powerful tale of an ordinary girl blasting through preconceived notions and doing something amazing. The perfect primer to get you, the reader, in the right frame of mind for the remainder of this collection.

  Patricia Gilliam’s “Anna” is next up. A haunting story set in the world of her The Hannaria Series. This classic alien on earth story is sure to please fans of the series as well as new readers unfamiliar with the previous works.

  Rhett C. Bruno’s “The Roach Rises” comes next in the lineup. This gritty, noir-esque vigilante hero tale examines what happens when one man thinks he’s outlived his usefulness as someone heroic.

  Cleanview, by Hall & Beaulieu, sees a lowly janitor privy to the inner thoughts of a superhero he considers the most powerful man on the planet.

  Christopher J. Valin gives us “Photo Op,” the next tale in our quest for superheroic adventure, in which an aging superhero takes on a rather unusual mission to protect his secret identity.

  In Kevin J. Summers’ “The Paladin,” a young crime fighting superhero is born from the tragedy of the loss of a loved one to the seedy underworld of the big city encroaching upon their small town. But does he go too far in seeking and exacting his revenge?

  Alexia Purdy brings her tale “Mercurial” to the collection. In it, a young nurse discovering her powers confronts an aging, perhaps over-the-hill, superhero who’s let life get the better of him, so much so that he may have lost his way—and his ability to carry on with the work he was destined to do.

  Andy Peloquin’s “One Last Time” introduces us to a mild-mannered office worker who wins the superhero lottery and is transformed into the city’s protector—but for how long and at what cost?

  Josh Hayes offers up “Hero Worship,” a story about a jaded and bitter man who holds superheroes in contempt.

  C.C. Ekeke gives us “An Ordinary Hero, a subtle but nuanced story about a day in the life of a superhero’s significant other which takes a twist when the unexpected happens. How he handles it may just make him a superhero, too.

  Next up is Jeffrey Beesler’s “The Spotlight.” A young girl confronts evil and things don’t quite go as planned.

  The collection is wrapped up with “Fade,” by Josi Russel, which tells the tale of a woman whose superpower isn’t what she wished it were. But it’s a unique ability that comes in very handy.

  We’ve all been in situations where we wished we had a superpower, a way to fight back against some wrong being done to us or to others, a way to make the wrongs of the world right again. While we don’t find that we’re suddenly imbued with the ability to fly or to summon superhuman strength in these situations, many of us have found that within ourselves is an inner strength of will that can be tapped into to help us get through the tough times. I’ve used this superpower many a time myself, as I’m sure many of you, dear readers, have.

  Inside each of us is a superhero waiting to be unleashed, waiting to be freed to right the wrongs of the world around us, even if only in an infinitesimal, minuscule way. I encourage each of you to read these stories and take inspiration from the heroes who you find inspirational, then pay that forward into the world around you. The benefits may not be that of adulation from the public, or huge monetary rewards or the like, but I can guarantee you that those you help will see you as the hero you are.

  I do hope you enjoy these stories as much as I have, and I hope that you’ll unleash the superhero inside of you to make all the positive changes in the world that you can.

  WE’RE ALL SUPERHEROES AND WE CAN ALL MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

  1 June 2017

  Todd Barselow, Acquisitions Editor and Publisher

  Auspicious Apparatus Press

  Davao City, Philippines

  GEEK GURL RISING

  BY CHRIS POURTEAU

  GEEK GURL RISING

  BY CHRIS POURTEAU

  Never let the rats in the experiment know you’re watching them, thought Carrie Conrad, peering over the top of her book at the Fearsome Foursome. The clock above the school stage showed five minutes to fifth period and an hour’s worth of freedom. Almost time for the lunchtime ritual. But I�
�m ready for them this time.

  Teen talk about music and hair and what someone said about someone else echoed around the lunch room. At their table in the middle of the cafeteria, Brad Magnuson, his girlfriend Stephanie Seward, and that other hangers-on couple, what’re-their-names, snickered and gestured toward Carrie’s table. There was a kind of no man’s land around the Foursome, a reverent, empty space reserved only for those who were summoned to approach.

  Carrie gripped tighter the tome she was reading and watched them work themselves up, gathering their courage. Most of the time, she felt invisible at Rosecranz High. And sometimes feeling that way, like she didn’t exist at all, hurt more than anything. But sometimes, on days like today, she wished she could go unnoticed by everyone, be just another face in the crowd.

  The process preceding her harassment by the Foursome had begun to fascinate her, though. She enjoyed predicting each stage, as if observing the behavior of rats in a lab experiment. Ticking off the preliminaries like boxes on a list made Carrie feel powerful, like she (not they) controlled what was about to happen. It almost made the inner pain that always followed worthwhile.

  There it was, Carrie noticed, the first glance her way from Stephanie, a kind of scouting mission. Brad’s eyes followed his girlfriend’s, as everything he did followed Stephanie’s lead. Like a dog following his favorite scent, Carrie thought. Brad might be the king of Rosecranz High, but Stephanie was his queen bee, and school rumor wasn’t shy about how freely her honey flowed. And the court jesters, the hangers-on couple, were always there to giggle encouragement. All eight eyes of the Fearsome Foursome were on Carrie, now.

  Brad rose and adjusted his football uniform, then Stephanie stood up.

  The football hero and the cheerleader. How original.

  Leave it to the brain trust to wear their school uniforms for Halloween Day. At least the court jesters put some effort into dressing up, Carrie thought, finally remembering their names. Richard was a cowboy, his girlfriend Cassidy a Goth with fake piercings.

  As the four walked over, Carrie focused on reading her book. Never let the rats in the experiment know you’re watching them.

  “Hey there, Scary Carrie,” Brad said as they walked up. He held his helmet under one arm and Stephanie clung to the other, exuding perkiness. “Whatcha reading today? More comic books, little girl?”

  Carrie ignored him. Take that!

  “Doesn’t look like a comic,” Brad said, his gaze assessing the large, thick book. “Shakespeare. Huh. Sounds about right.” He made a show of looking her up and down. “No costume today? I figured you, of all people, would’ve come in costume. Like, Wonder Girl or Bat Thing or whatever.”

  “Are you kidding?” Stephanie said. “She’s in costume. Now, hmmm, let me see if I can guess…I know! You’re Geek Girl, Queen of the Nerd Patrol!” Somehow the cheerleader queen managed to focus on Carrie while slinking against Brad like a cat marking a couch. Looking down her nose, Stephanie continued, “Same thing she wears every day, Flash.”

  The court jesters tittered.

  “Where’d you get that name anyway?” Carrie asked, not deigning to look at them.

  “What name—Flash?” Brad asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “So—Brainiac ain’t so smart after all,” Stephanie snarked. “He’s only the fastest runningback in Rosecranz history!” She bobbed up and down with excitement.

  “Oh, yeah,” Carrie said. “I forgot.”

  Zing!

  Cassidy the Goth girl made a what-a-moron clucking sound.

  “Got a date for Sadie Hawkins yet?” asked Richard the cowboy in a tone that said he already knew the answer.

  Carrie sighed dramatically, then looked him dead in the eye. “Not yet, Dick.”

  Cassidy dropped her boyfriend’s hand and loomed over the table. “Don’t call him that! How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “Call him what?” Carrie asked, returning to Shakespeare.

  “Dick!”

  “Call who Dick?”

  “Di—Richard!”

  Carrie stared over the edge of her book to see the light dawning in Cassidy’s eyes that she’d just been had. The Goth-grey makeup flushed a darker color. Cassidy clenched her fists.

  “Careful, you’re starting to look not dead, thou craven reeling-ripe horn beast,” Carrie said.

  For a moment, only the dull hum of lunch room gossip could be heard.

  “What’d you just call me?”

  Carrie lifted the thick Riverside Shakespeare she was reading. It was heavy, but lifting it in front of them made her feel powerful. “Try reading something besides Teen Vogue.”

  Stephanie moved to Cassidy’s side. “You think you’re so smart, but you’re not. You’re new here, and you just better watch—”

  The bell announcing the end of the last lunch period sounded, transforming the buzz of teen conversation into a drone of disappointed moaning.

  “You unmuzzled ill-nurtured pigeon-egg,” Carrie said without looking at the book. “Forsooth, your words do tax my ears as a pox does the skin.”

  Stephanie gaped, flummoxed. Carrie could see the wheels turning as the cheerleader tried to identify the insult she was no doubt sure had just been levied against her.

  “Come on,” Cowboy Dick said, tapping Flash’s arm. “Coach’ll have our asses if we’re late.”

  As students rose, their chairs scraping, Stephanie struck a hand out, batting the Riverside Shakespeare aside. Carrie grabbed after it but missed, and the big book slammed to the cafeteria floor.

  “Forsooth that, you little bitch.”

  Something else, a magazine spilled from between the Riverside’s pages. Carrie gasped, her stony defiance crumbling into embarrassed horror.

  Cassidy giggled. “Hey look! Scary Carrie’s getting married!”

  Now it was Carrie’s face that flushed, red as a beet, as the foursome stood ogling the Brides magazine on the floor. Its cover with a beautiful blonde woman in a beaded white dress was bright and vibrant against the Elizabethan illustration on the cover of the Riverside Shakespeare.

  “She wasn’t reading Shakespeare! She was planning for Prince Charming!” Stephanie’s voice carried over the din of exiting students, and eyes from all quarters sought out Carrie on the floor as she scrambled to recover her magazine and its Renaissance camouflage.

  “Good luck with that!” Flash said as others gave Carrie a wide berth, like she might have the plague. “Come on, peeps. Can’t keep Coach waiting.”

  Cassidy looped her arm into her boyfriend’s and, with a last kick at Shakespeare, headed to class with her friends. Flash sneered and led Stephanie away as she threw another joke over her shoulder about Carrie’s manless future.

  Still sitting on the floor, Carrie watched them go. She reached over and picked Shakespeare up. Unlike earlier, the book felt cumbersome now, like her arms had lost all their strength to lift it. With half-glances both pitying and grateful they weren’t Carrie Conrad, the last of the students passed by. None stopped to help her up, and their coldness made Carrie feel like crying. Instead, after a moment, she got to her feet, carefully folded the bridal magazine inside the Riverside Shakespeare, and headed for her refuge.

  At least it’s fifth period, she thought. Thank God for that.

  • • •

  To Carrie, walking into Rosecranz High’s library always felt like walking into relief itself.

  It must be what Superman feels flying to the Fortress of Solitude. Or Batman coming home to the Batcave. Like retreating to a secret place, a personal space where you could set aside the worries of the world and relax and just be who you are, far away from the madding crowd.

  Not that the library was secret from anyone. But it was hers more than anyone’s who came here. Anyone but Mr. Johns, maybe. He was her favorite teacher, although he wasn’t, technically, a teacher at all. But his balding head, thick-rimmed eyeglasses, and signature bowtie had become touchstones of sanity for Carrie since moving here wi
th her parents barely a month before. She’d sought out the library on day one and made it her sanctuary, her treasure chest of other worlds into which to escape from the real one.

  Rupert Johns looked up from the stack of books he was checking in and smiled pleasantly. “Hi, Carrie. Fifth period already?”

  “Never soon enough,” she mumbled more to herself than him. Carrie walked to her favorite table, the one closest to the stacks. She loved the smell of the books on the shelves. Mr. Johns had once described it as the scent of knowledge waiting to be reborn, and that had sounded just about right to Carrie. Setting down her backpack, she tried to return the librarian’s smile. But his expression in return showed just how lopsided her attempt must have been.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Carrie gave him a look like he was crazy. “What? Nothing. Why?” Her words fired like bullets.

  He set down the book he was checking in. “You’ve been crying.”

  “No I haven’t!”

  His head tilted to the side, and Johns gave her a calm but quizzical look. “The Rat Pack again?”

  His voice sounded concerned, but she could also hear a steely support in it, the even tone of an ally who empathized from experience. Bullying by Magnuson and his entourage had become an all-too familiar point of discussion during her visits to the library. And, Johns had confided, he’d been bullied in high school, too.

  Carrie quickly wiped her hands across her cheeks. “Yeah.” No sense denying it now. And it felt wrong to be untruthful with Mr. Johns. He’d been there for her since she’d started her junior year at Rosecranz, introducing her to Shakespeare and Charles Dickens and Edgar Allan Poe. He’d been her Alfred, her Professor X, her Gandalf, her guardian of the gateway to other worlds. He’d been her one reliable friend.