Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate (4 page)

It was just after midnight when I heard the car
door shut. A taxi. A young frail body draped in a coat far too big for its
frame, clenching onto a small duffel bag, stood in front of my house, watching
me watch them through the window as they approached. They knocked a few times,
waited, and knocked again.

I was frozen with terror, thinking that it
couldn't possibly be who I'd thought it was? How did they know of me, and if
they found me, how long would it be before the people after them did the same?

They knocked again with much more force,
rattling the door in its frame. "Dennis, the next time I'm breaking the
door in! Open up!" she screamed.

And so I did, an action I still can't logically
justify. Letting this soaking wet stranger enter my home. She took off her coat
threw it onto the couch along with her duffel bag.

I asked how she knew my name, as well as what
she expected to be called.

"Nena Faulkner," she said. "You
knew my brother, he sent you the visions. You did know I was coming,
right?"

I hesitated to answer, and my thought process
was interrupted by the ringing of our land line. When it stopped almost
immediately I knew my wife had answered; it was the neighbors.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Nena
said, in a quiet and calm voice. "I just need a place to stay."

If she were any other stranger I'd have done my
best to throw her right back into the rain, but she was a part of something far
more grand than that. I couldn't just ignore what I'd seen in the bar, or the
assault on their home. Those were apparently very real events that had brought
me to a very difficult moment in my life.

I shouted up to my wife that everything was
okay, she responded by asking if she was gone. With great hesitation I said no,
and that she wouldn't be. Not that I could make her if I'd wanted to.

Nena's about as tall as my shoulder, that's to
say, a little under 5'5. Dark brown hair, with emerald green eyes that gleam in
the darkness like an animal. Small, humble, polite, and armed with a deceivingly
innocent and youthful appearance, somewhere around her mid-twenties if I didn't
know better, with soft features that made it difficult to view her as a threat.

"Oh my god!" she belted, in an overly
dramatic yet clearly exhausted voice. She threw herself over the arm of my
couch, slid down onto the cushions, moving her wet belongings to the floor and
burying her face in the pillows, "I am so relieved I finally get to meet
you!"

I told her we had a guest room she could crash
in, to which she replied with a simple and nonchalant, "I know."

Those were the final words out of her mouth,
"I know." What else does she know? Furthermore, why didn't she even
bother to help me explain this to my wife?

It was the definitive no-win situation. I was
either a cheater or a lunatic.

–
3/14
–

Alvin
Turner
-

Even Clark Kent has to punch a clock, stumbling
into work after getting however many hours of sleep just to listen to a man
who's life he's saved, either directly or indirectly, countless times give him orders
and deadlines, why should I expect any different?

What's startling is how much I actually recall
from last night. From Atlanta to Houston, Los Angeles to Miami, down to Cancun, Rio, over the majestic Rockies,
down the splendor of the Andes. Across the Atlantic, and how utterly terrified I was that I'd
somehow lose my speed and die in the middle of that great oceanic expanse. The
memories are a far cry from vivid, more like a fond recollection of a distant
vacation, which is partly why I'm getting it down on paper now.

The sense of boundless freedom is unrivaled,
yet the extreme isolation that comes coupled with it could drive me to the
borders of insanity if ever stuck there; trapped within the ticks of a second.
The silent lifelessness of it all was cool at first, but then came the creeping
and unsettling sense of not belonging. I spent many hours abroad taking
pictures, toying with my limits, and almost forgetting the normal
non-extraordinary life I had to eventually return to.

That's when I returned home to find the
outdated technology that is my land line ringing. Sure I could have discarded
it years ago but then I may have never had this perfect collision of
opportunity and ability presented before me. This unknown stranger reaching out
to me in the silent contemplative hours of the night, as I pondered the
implications of the isolation my speed burdens me with.

I've often wondered just who was on the other
line of those wrong numbers, and this presented me with the perfect opportunity
to find out. Copy the number, find the area code, locate the address (a hotel),
single out the room, and then...find the answer to my million dollar question:
I'm not alone.

Edward Otep, a thirty-four year old stranger
who knows more about me than I of him, and yet he'd never shaken my hand,
looked into my eyes, or perhaps, even seen a decent picture of my face.

I could be nothing more than a cog in a machine
to him, one I'm not yet sure I'm willing to help function. He knows I'm aware
of him, I made sure of that, and he left his number on my machine. I'd planned
to meet him in person but he's since vacated his room. I'll call, but only on
my time. I'm nobody's pawn...except at work, which I should probably get back
to before I decide to take the rest of the day off.

Damn, perhaps an international lunch break
wasn't the greatest of ideas.

Michael
Serna
-

The only phrase that accurately expresses the
extreme anxiety I'm currently experiencing is, "Holy Shit."

Last night was one hell of a wild ride, from
going bar to bar with Greg, Corey, Sam, Thomas, and our lovely ladies, while we
forgot our petty first world problems one alcoholic concoction at a time. To
the drunken conversation and questionable activities on the curb that followed,
it was, simply put, amazing.

At the time, the fact that I could feel the
world around me may have sounded like I was more stoned than inebriate, but I
gave it as much thought as the next guy; which is, needless to say, none at
all.

As I drunkenly escorted Iris to each bar I'd
reach out to the world as if trying to grab something far out of my reach, and
yet, the only thought given to it was from Thomas' date mentioning how
"awfully touchy" I was, followed some raunchy suggestive joke about
titties or something that prompted me to put my hands all over Iris.

Fast forward to this morning - Holy Shit - I
wake up with my arm slung over my lady's lovely unclothed body - Holy Shit -
and with the fog of alcohol lifting I could feel everything far more clearly -
Holy Shit - I could feel the rise and fall of my lady's stomach, the gentle
swaying of the curtains, and even presence of the drawer handles, Iris' brush
on the dresser, my jean's on the floor, my car keys on the counter, my flash
drive on the desk, my shoes on the floor, my...my...my... - Holy Shit -

I extended an arm towards my alarm clock and
pulled it towards me as if I were touching it with my bare hands, and good lord
it moved. - Holy Shit - There are no words I'm aware of to describe my terror,
and the startled scream that woke Iris did nothing but complicate the situation.

“Holy shit!”

She leaped upward in her crazed
fight-or-flight, barely awake, state of bewilderment screaming "What?!
What?!" and I could do nothing but let her see for herself a sight I had
no explanation for.

They lingered in the air for a moment longer
before they all just dropped to the floor. I'm not sure if she thought it might
be an apparition or magnetic phenomenon, she just sat quietly for a couple of
moments until the shock wore off. I don't think she connected it with me, but I
overheard her speaking to her mother about contacting an exorcist. Later in the
day she casually asked if I wanted to sleep over her place tonight. She offered
to cook in her lingerie to sweeten the deal, not that I mind or that it's
required, but it did get me thinking.

So I guess I'll be staying at her place until
we get things figured out, if that's the case. I don't know how to tell her or
what she'll think when she inevitably figures out it was me. I guess that's
where the "till death do us part" verse comes in; too bad those vows
are still a couple months out.

Aside from breaking the news, figuring out how
to ignore this feeling is paramount or else I'll end up accidentally repeating
the same event. And let's not forget my natural curiosity, that alone means I'm
in store for nothing less than a very interesting night.

Chapter Two

Uncommon Requests

Dennis Shaeffer
-

The only phrase that accurately expresses the
extreme anxiety I'm currently experiencing is "Holy Shit."

Last night was one hell of a wild ride, from
going bar to bar with Greg, Corey, Sam, Thomas, and our lovely ladies, while we
forgot our petty first world problems one alcoholic concoction at a time. To
the drunken conversation and questionable activities on the curb that followed,
it was, simply put, amazing.

At the time, the fact that I could feel the
world around me may have sounded like I was more stoned than inebriate, but I
gave it as much thought as the next guy; which is, needless to say, none at
all.

As I drunkenly escorted Iris to each bar I'd
reach out to the world as if trying to grab something far out of my reach, and
yet, the only thought given to it was from Thomas' date mentioning how
"awfully touchy" I was, followed some raunchy suggestive joke about
titties or something that prompted me to put my hands all over Iris.

Fast forward to this morning - Holy Shit - I
wake up with my arm slung over my lady's lovely unclothed body - Holy Shit -
and with the fog of alcohol lifting I could feel everything far more clearly -
Holy Shit - I could feel the rise and fall of my lady's stomach, the gentle
swaying of the curtains, and even presence of the drawer handles, Iris' brush
on the dresser, my jean's on the floor, my car keys on the counter, my flash
drive on the desk, my shoes on the floor, my...my...my... - Holy Shit –

I extended an arm towards my alarm clock and
pulled it towards me as if I were touching it with my bare hands, and good lord
it moved. - Holy Shit - There are no words I'm aware of to describe my terror,
and the startled scream that woke Iris did nothing but complicate the
situation.

Holy shit!

She leaped upward in her crazed
fight-or-flight, barely awake, state of bewilderment screaming "What?!
What?!" and I could do nothing but let her see for herself a sight I had
no explanation for.

They lingered in the air for a moment longer
before they all just dropped to the floor. I'm not sure if she thought it might
be an apparition or magnetic phenomenon, she just sat quietly for a couple of
moments until the shock wore off. I don't think she connected it with me, but I
overheard her speaking to her mother about contacting an exorcist. Later in the
day she casually asked if I wanted to sleep over her place tonight. She offered
to cook in her lingerie to sweeten the deal, not that I mind or that it's
required, but it did get me thinking.

So I guess I'll be staying at her place until
we get things figured out, if that's the case. I don't know how to tell her or
what she'll think when she inevitably figures out it was me. I guess that's
where the "till death do us part" verse comes in; too bad those vows
are still a couple months out.

Aside from breaking the news, figuring out how
to ignore this feeling is paramount or else I'll end up accidentally repeating
the same event. And let's not forget my natural curiosity, that alone means I'm
in store for nothing less than a very interesting night.

Michael
Serna
-

Holy hell! ...Excuse me as I devolve into a tween
for a second but, ZOMFG! Okay, I'm done, and honestly, that leaves me feeling a
little nasty. I may need a shower. But, ladies and gentle creatures, behold how
the world itself turns on its ass!

First, the set-up: In shadow of Wednesday's
"jailbreaks" and other recent unexplainable, yet thoroughly
documented, cases coming out of India and Japan, government authorities are
urging people to remain cautious, and report any suspicious activity to their
local law enforcement officials.

Authorities are still hesitant to confirm any
particular explanation, but it doesn't take a PhD. to figure out it probably
has something to do with this month's solar event.

Just what in God's name is happening to us?

To add clarity to the sea of speculation and
foster confidence in his administration, President Yates' agreed to publicly
address concerns regarding the prison disappearances, as well as present new
information about this month's solar event to quell the recent surge in media
speculation.

And then the world flipped up-side down, you
know, just for shits and giggles.

With less than two hours before President Yates
was to address the nation the media became saturated with footage from at least
seven different news sources of a male figure hovering in front of the Lincoln
Memorial. And of course, since he's in the area, fly over to the Washington Monument. No biggie, just trying to
catch the sights, avoid the lines, etc.

Of course in this welcoming country, which
always chooses to see the best in people, it wasn't long before the news,
police, and military choppers were buzzing around up there too. I doubt he's
working for an advertising company but he sure knows how to pull in attention,
right? Somebody get this guy a job!

There's literally a small army of bystanders,
policemen, soldiers, and media personnel gathered around down there. Loitering
about, taking pictures, flashing lights, and capturing video. The military
obviously wants everyone gone, but they're probably the only thing keeping him
off a lab table with his head sliced open and his brain in a jar.

I'd hardly call it a stand-off but, honestly,
how long can this last? That, and I can't wait to see President Yates'
reaction. Is there a soul alive still willing to call this a hoax?

Will I ever be able peel my face away from the
TV screen? Should I stop posting on Twitter and Facebook? Will I ever stop
writing in this as if it has a public audience?

Stayed for the next thrilling installment of…
This Boring Little Journal!

Edward
Otep
-

On the 18th the good-natured and unsuspecting
citizens of Los Angeles
will try their damnedest to raze their sunny little city to the ground. Filled
with an anger and blood-lust for their surroundings, each other, and
themselves. And I can't stop it. I can't stop it because I don't know who, or
what, causes it. It just happens. Unsurprisingly enough, people panic when
things just happen, and that's never a good thing.

Just like everyone I've contacted, Carter
McLennon is a novice. He's also damn-near a complete stranger who knows just
enough to get him on board, but not so much that he runs off scared and I end
up with dark suits knocking on my door. And yes, that was one scenario I played
through, and it didn't end well for either of us. I can't risk that, not yet.

So even thinking of asking him to put the same
amount of effort into this as me is futile, I've already asked him to assist in
a textbook case of domestic cyber-terrorism. That alone should have scared him
off, and for someone who doesn't know the 1's and 0's of computer language it's
asking a lot, for anyone else it would be impossible. But these are
extraordinary times and I'm trusting in extraordinary people.

He's learning, just like the rest of us, and
working with limited resources. I have to stay rational. This is why I'm only
expecting the bare minimum from him, which is still a considerable amount.

He contacted me earlier to let me know how
difficult this has been for him, all for something he isn't even sure will
happen. His dedication is admirable, I just pray his trust is well placed. He's
called in sick for work the past two days just so he can stay home a slave away
at a computer, forcing himself to learn systems and technologies completely
foreign to him. He's barely slept, and definitely letting this weigh on him
more than I thought it would. But it's necessary. I was told these people could
help, I never questioned at what cost. I've tried to be as thorough as possible
but I guess there are still things I haven't taken into consideration.

Whenever you read a comic, pick up a book, or
watch a movie about someone who can see the future they always have their ducks
in a row, they're one step ahead of the rest. What they never mention, hint at,
or care to show in any detail, is just how much work it is. I have to know
where to look, when to look, who to look for, and even then they might not even
be where I think they're going to be, and then I'm back off on a temporal
manhunt. And God forbid I need to run through multiple scenarios. The hours pass
so quickly. I can view the future, sure, but I miss out on the present, and
once it's gone it's gone. The only past I can see is my own.

Just some brief insight into my life.
Everything comes with a set of pros and cons, we've got to weigh them wisely.

Michael
Serna
-

Dear
journal: I think I can fly...

Alvin
Turner
-

In many ways life hasn't changed, I'll admit I
was feeling restless during my break but in all honesty who hasn't at some
point? Just because I've got this ability doesn't mean I have to use it at
every moment. It'll drive me crazy if I look at the world as too slow to keep
up, which it is, but that's not about to change anytime soon so no use letting
it irritate me.

I ended up in DC shortly after work, Japan's Flying
Man had made his way stateside a couple hours before a presidential address and
I had to see it for myself. Not that I expected otherwise, but this kid's
legit, no strings and no wires. I stood in the crowd for the last hour he was
there, flying around and doing acrobatics, you could tell he enjoyed the
attention, waving to the people and taking about as many pictures of us as we
did of him. But with the crowd below gawking and applauding, and the media
pointing and speculating, the authorities were busy figuring out how to take
him in. Again and again they used their bullhorns in futile attempts to coax
him down. They wanted answers while he just wanted the spotlight.

Around 7:35pm the media helicopters pulled back
and the cops began to slowly move in, the blue shirts on the ground began
pushing everyone further away from the monument. The military managed to
discretely place a unique catapult-like contraption on the ground while the
agitated mass conflicted with the aggressive actions of the intruding police
officers; waiting for the perfect moment. And in the millisecond just before
they pressed the button I angled it slightly off.

The crowd screamed in shock and began to bustle
about restlessly; the helicopters began to move in more aggressively. My gaze
was transfixed upwards while I forcefully fought the flow of the panicked
masses. The flying man was well aware of what was going on and I was curious as
to just how risky he was going to play it, and then he made his move.

The majority of the crowd was left speechless,
for them there was no warning, just the sudden loud pop of a supersonic exit;
but for me it was different, I watched as his perceptions increased, hastily
scouted the easiest route through which to escape the rapidly closing dome of
helicopters trying to block his exit. Cocking back his frame, and pushing
forward through the wall of air compressing before him and bolting off into the
distance. I'd wager he was hitting about Mach three over the crowd, something
I'm assuming is an impressive feat since I've no reference to place it against
other than myself. No doubt I could have followed him, and even contemplated it
for an extremely brief moment, but in the end the comforting and familiar decor
of a place I like to call home won out. If I had to guesstimate he could have
reached about Mach six before topping out, but none the less it was an
impressive sight to see.

When I returned I had what could only be
described as the highlight to my day… nay, my week… and the only reason I've
yet to document the contents of said conversation is because I am actively
avoiding pondering the ramifications of said information.

I must remain cautious. I am worried yet
skeptical, and I’ll do my best to keep an open mind… just not so open that my
brain falls out.
Kaylie
Horn
-
Diary Entry #271

Hey girl, I'm back! Didja miss me? It's only
been a few days so you shouldn't be that lonely... but if you are, girl, does
momma have some delicious info for you! First off, I wouldn't be surprised if
the entire nation was glued to a TV set of some sort last night, regardless of
whether your political affiliation or Marvel/DC preference.

After the military unsuccessfully tried to
detain an innocent civilian with a fish net, like an animal, the nation went
into an uproar. Oh, I almost forgot to say, he was FLYING! No, I'm not joking.
This person was seriously flying. I'm talking literal "up, up, and
away," gravity defying theatrics. This, after a flying man was also spotted
in Tokyo by almost a bazillion people, and a
tour bus was thrown into a building in India... on the twenty-
something'ieth floor.

Crazy world, huh? All the comic freaks at
school are geeking out... beyond crazy. Anyway, the only thing I can applaud
the President for is admitting they don't know, that's gotta be a first right?

But wait there's more! *Deep breath*