Caped Read online

  CAPED

  AN ANTHOLOGY OF SUPERHERO TALES

  Edited By

  Ian Thomas Healy

  Featuring Stories By

  Leonard Apa, David Court, Gary Cuba,

  Adrienne Dellwo, Leod D. Fitz, Che Gilson,

  Elliotte Rusty Harold, Jake Johnson,

  Stephen Kotowych, Laura Lamoreaux, Paul McMahon,

  Robert J. Mendenhall, Wendy Qualls, Dave Ring,

  Aaron Michael Ritchey & Jason Henry Evans, Tim Rohr,

  Eric Rosenfield, and K.H. Vaughan

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Book design by Local Hero Press, LLC

  Anthology Copyright © 2015 Ian Thomas Healy

  “And Introducing the Scarlet Scrapper” Copyright © 2015 Leonard Apa; “Sovereign’s Last Hurrah” Copyright © 2015 David Court; “RIGHTMAN! Loses the Faith” Copyright © 2015 Gary Cuba; “Dax and the Red Eyes” Copyright © 2015 Adrienne Dellwo; “Dum Dum” Copyright © 2015 Leod D. Fitz; “Light Therapy” Copyright © 2015 Che Gilson; “Pinning Portugal” Copyright © 2015 Elliotte Rusty Harold; “When Fukayna Danced Her Libraries” Copyright © 2015 Jake Johnson; “Super Frenemies” Copyright © 2015 Stephen Kotowych; “The Faces of the Wind” Copyright © 2015 Laura Lamoreaux; “Capacity Crowds” Copyright © 2015 Paul McMahon; “Heart of the Matter” Copyright © 2015 Robert J. Mendenhall; “Ebony Boneshaft, Secret Superhero” Copyright © 2015 Wendy Qualls; “Eye of the Beholder” Copyright © 2015 Dave Ring; “I Am Hathor” Copyright © 2015 Aaron Michael Ritchey & Jason Henry Evans; “The Romulus Proposition” Copyright © 2015 Tim Rohr; “Saul, Again” Copyright © 2015 Eric Rosenfield; “Damn the Dark, Damn the Light” Copyright © 2015 K. H. Vaughan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book, its contents, and its characters are the sole property of Ian Thomas Healy. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without written, express permission from the author. To do so without permission is punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Books From Local Hero Press

  The Just Cause Universe

  Just Cause

  The Archmage

  Day of the Destroyer

  Deep Six

  Jackrabbit

  Champion

  Castles

  The Lion and the Five Deadly Serpents

  Tusks (Coming Spring 2016)

  Just Cause Universe Omnibus, Vol. 1

  Just Cause Universe Omnibus, Vol. 2

  The Bulletproof Badge

  The Pariah of Verigo Novels

  Pariah’s Moon

  Pariah’s War

  Other Novels

  Assassin

  Blood on the Ice

  Hope and Undead Elvis

  Making the Cut

  Rooftops

  Space Sharks

  Starf*cker

  The Guitarist

  The Milkman

  Troubleshooters

  Collections

  Tales of the Weird Wild West, Vol. 1

  The Good Fight

  The Good Fight 2: Villains

  Caped

  Nonfiction

  Action! Writing Better Action Using Cinematic Techniques

  All titles and more available wherever books and ebooks are sold.

  This isn’t the first anthology I’ve produced, as I’ve already published two for the Pen & Cape Society, which you should pick up if you haven’t yet—one is free to download and the other is only 99¢. Unlike The Good Fight and The Good Fight 2: Villains, Caped represents a huge step forward for Local Hero Press: that of accepting open submissions and ensuring you have the best possible stories to read in this anthology. I think we’ve managed to come up with a pretty darn good collection.

  I am greatly indebted to my partner Alicia Howie in this project. Without her tireless assistance and dedication, Caped would still be grounded. She’s not a sidekick; she’s better than that. She’s the Iron Fist to my Power Man, the Archer to my Armstrong, the Booster Gold to my Blue Beetle—you get the idea.

  Thank you to everyone who submitted stories to this anthology, which I hope will be the first of many more. I intend for Local Hero Press to be the go-to place for people to find quality superhero fiction, and this is where it begins.

  Now pull on those boots, strap on your cowl, and let’s fly.

  —Ian Thomas Healy

  October, 2015

  CONTENTS

  Saul, Again

  Eric Rosenfield

  Super Frenemies

  Stephen Kotowych

  Pinning Portugal

  Elliotte Rusty Harold

  When Fukayna Danced Her Libraries

  Jake Johnson

  Damn the Dark, Damn the Light

  K. H. Vaughan

  I Am Hathor

  Jason Henry Evans & Aaron Michael Ritchey

  Dax and the Red Eyes

  Adrienne Dellwo

  Light Therapy

  Che Gilson

  RIGHTMAN! Loses the Faith

  Gary Cuba

  The Romulus Proposition

  Tim Rohr

  And Introducing the Scarlet Scrapper

  Leonard Apa

  Eye of the Beholder

  Dave Ring

  Dum Dum

  Leod D. Fitz

  Heart of the Matter

  Robert J. Mendenhall

  Ebony Boneshaft, Secret Superhero

  Wendy Qualls

  Capacity Crowds

  Paul McMahon

  The Faces of the Wind

  Laura Lamoreaux

  Sovereign’s Last Hurrah

  David Court

  About the Authors

  SAUL, AGAIN

  Eric Rosenfield

  Saul gets a message from his future self in the past again.

  On a whim, he buys a yellowed, coffee-stained travel guide to an Eastern European nation that no longer exists, at a used bookstore and finds his own scratchy, semi-faded fountain penmanship on the inside back cover.

  He’s always doing this, leaving messages to himself in the random places where he remembers discovering them. It’s in some kind of cypher and he won’t tell me what it says, but I think he’s just being self-important. It probably says to remember to do the laundry or something. He would do that, too, break the barrier of the space-time continuum just to make sure he’s got the right novelty t-shirt on in the morning. Like he wants people to think he’s on some secret mission to protect the timeline, but it’s obvious he really came through time to be a tourist and lay girls from the past. Sometimes we go to clubs and I watch him on the make. He says in the future people have no body fat and no hair and everyone is naked all the time because the temperature is always perfect. He underwent body modification to fit in here. He likes girls of our time better; girls with love handles and tan lines and razor burn and fashion sense. He doesn’t stay with anyone
very long, doesn’t want to get attached. I think he can only really relax around me because I spurned him when we first met, because he doesn’t have to bring off anything.

  He spends a lot of time at home alone. Often he practices some funny kind of Tai Chi that involves full-body movement and sudden, abrupt changes of direction.

  Sometimes I fly off to work and he’s sitting in the easy chair in the living room, just staring out the window, and when I get home he’s still there, like he hasn’t moved an inch. Sometimes after I peel off the spandex and get into civvies, I sit there next to him, saying nothing.

  Sometimes we have tea.

  * * *

  I meet Janet during a minor apocalypse. Dalcor the Unnamable raises the great demon-god Funthrchrup from his long slumber, who proceeds to devastate Cleveland with a host of winged man-lizards. Battling atop the BP tower, one of them kicks me in the sternum and sends me careening into the air. A beautiful heroine with raven black hair and a costume festooned with cartoonish frowny-faces catches me easily in mid-arc and presses me to her, circling the building.

  “Throw me,” I say, and with a laugh she chucks me straight at the creature. It reaches out with its long talons, but they scrabble harmlessly against my rock-hard skin and then my fists rip through its middle. The rooftop cracks beneath me as I hit and roll, coming up into a stance five meters away. I adjust my tiara like I haven’t a care in the world, despite the blood and gore now dripping off my body. My old mentor, Captain Zeus, would have been proud.

  The woman lands next to me. “Nicely done.”

  There’s a roar like a dozen jet engines and we look to the sky. On the horizon and gaining fast, nine figures in familiar primary colors race in from the east.

  “MegaForce,” I say breathlessly.

  “Well whattaya know,” she says. “I guess someone cares about Cleveland after all.”

  When man-lizard bodies are strewn over parking lots and public spaces and rooftops, their guts sprayed across walls and over shattered automobiles; when Funthrchrup has retreated, sealing a massive lava tube behind him in the remains of West Side Market; when Dalcor the Unnamable has been imprisoned in his own Sphere of Terror which is then loaded into a paddy wagon with one hand by Doc Hercules; that’s when I realize I haven’t asked her name.

  “I’m Pallas,” I say as we gaze upon the wreckage from a nearby rooftop.

  “I know,” she says, looking up at me with her big brown eyes. “I read that article on you in Heroic Times.”

  “Oh, that.” I blush. I’m a little annoyed with the tone of the piece. Called “A Gay Superheroine Comes of Age,” it made me out as this poster child for homosexual crime fighters instead of just a crime fighter who happens to be homosexual. I’m more than a sexual orientation in spandex.

  “I thought it was great.” She puts out her hand. “I’m Lady Killjoy. Why does everyone make that face? It’s a perfectly good name. Anyway, you can call me Janet.”

  “Nice to meet you, Janet.”

  “So, Pallas, I’ve worked up a hunger. You wanna see if my favorite Chinese place in Shaker Square is still open?”

  “It probably is,” I shrug. “I’ve seen restaurants stay open through worse apocalypses. I guess you can get used to anything.” And then I look down at myself. “Actually, can I take a rain check? I’m kind of a mess.”

  Janet puts a hand to her mouth, laughing, “You know, in all the fuss I completely forgot that you’re covered in demon blood.” She shakes her head. “You ever think about how weird this job is?”

  “I try not to.”

  * * *

  After finding the message in the used book, Saul starts building a machine in the basement. He won’t tell me what it does.

  He gets deliveries in small crates. Who knows what’s in there? He’s absurdly wealthy from past investments, so it could be anything. He keeps the basement door locked. I hear clangs and bangs, humming and buzzing and whirring. Sometimes he mumbles about having to fabricate whole industries by himself. He’s stopped going out. I can tell he isn’t showering or changing his clothes because he has the same novelty t-shirt on day after day. It reads I traveled through time and space and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.

  He finds this shirt hilarious. I suspect in the future he’s from something’s gone very wrong with people’s senses of humor.

  The only other thing he seems to be doing is practicing his Tai Chi for several hours each day, jaw fixed, lips pressed, almost going white.

  * * *

  Janet and I finally go out on a date. We have barbecue in Brooklyn, digging into enormous tin plates of ribs and sausage atop picnic tables while a Dixie band jams in the corner. We’re laughing, sexily sucking barbecue sauce off our fingers when my wristwatch alarm and her belt transceiver go off at the same time. We look at each other, check our devices, throw down some money and bolt outside. We find an alley and I start to change, but she shakes her head, puts her arm around my waist and takes me into the sky.

  We change huddled in a crevice folded away in the Manhattan Municipal Building’s ornate top, trying to pretend we’re not enjoying the view and the closeness of each other’s bodies.

  She carries me through the clouds to a field in Pennsylvania, where a pitched battle rages. Ferion catches us up on what’s going on as we battle robot minions with blazing red, perfectly circular eyes. Dr. Annihilation has discovered ancient temples of the great Neanderthal civilization secreted away around the world, each with a hidden object of power. It’s said that if all the objects are united by one person, they will grant god-like abilities, puissance to reshape the universe.

  So nothing too unusual.

  Dr. Annihilation used an antigravity bore to pull the Neanderthal temple from where it was buried, miles below ground. It rises over us in rippling waves of stone, punctuated by half-submerged faces in frozen, eternal screams. I shiver; an unnamable terror numbs my gut.

  “I didn’t know Neanderthals had temples in America,” says Janet.

  “The most advanced civilization in the history of the world,” says Ferion. “Wiped out by an invasion from another dimension. Tragic, really.” Ferion is an extraterrestrial, the last survivor of a doomed race. His bald head ends in a long beak like a pick-axe and his eyes are on either side like a bird, so he has to face sideways to see you. It’s a little unnerving.

  Raising the temple tore through tectonic plates and Earthquakes rumble around us. As we fight, we get reports over our com lines of heroes from all over the country helping quake victims in Philadelphia, Scranton, Atlantic City. In the end, thanks mostly to a heroic effort by MegaForce, we manage to return the temple below ground, but Dr. Annihilation escapes with the Sword of Dread Whispers, the first object of power.

  Both sweaty and exhausted, Janet flies me home. A little nervously, I ask her if she’d like to come in for tea. We make love for the first time, and then shower and make love again, falling asleep in each others arms.

  * * *

  The next morning, we find Saul eating oatmeal in the kitchen.

  “Pallas.” He nods at me, and then says, “Janet.”

  “Have we met?” asks Janet.

  “Yes, but it hasn’t happened for you yet.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “Time traveler.” I shrug. “You get used to it.”

  Saul’s in good spirits, bubbling with smiles and humming softly to himself. He’s wearing a shirt that reads Free Hugs. I haven’t seen him like this since before he got the message from his future self. I ask him what’s going on.

  “I finished my project.” He grins, his spoon clattering in his almost empty bowl. “In the basement. Want to see?”

  We follow him downstairs. “Did I ever tell you about my first time machine?” he says as we go. “No? Well, in the future, there’s laws against making them, of course, risk of damaging the time line, creating splinter realities, yadda yadda yadda. So I had to build mine on the sly, from whatever parts I could scrounge together. The machine I
created was perfect except that the chronal energy had to be contained within it. That meant it could act as a gate to any time period, but there would be no way back. A one-way trip.”

  He flips on the light at the bottom of the stairs and reveals a dizzying electronic mass, a hulking beast of machinery asleep on its side. “It was fine with me, though, I was so desperate to get out of that boring, decadent time period. I never wanted to come back. So I went all the way back to the 23rd century. It’s quite an era, maybe the most exciting in human history. Though when I got there, standing naked and steaming in a parking lot the size of a small town in your time, I found myself looking at a note placed in the window of the car right in front of me.”

  He flips a switch and a hundred little lights come on like a starscape. The room fills with hisses and whirring.

  “It told me that in the car’s trunk I could find clothes, a money card and identification documents and that I had a bank account and a nice house in the suburbs of Crystal City. In the house I found blueprints and instructions for how to construct a new time machine out of contemporary technology. It was my first message from a future me in the past.”

  He shrugs and approaches the machine, “Since then I’ve jaunted around the time line, living in any era that catches my interest. I’ve lived in ancient Persia, Mayan cities, in the Tang Dynasty, Atlantis, the Holy Roman Empire and the cloud cities of Midas 5.” He grins at us, “And now it’s time for me to move on again. But I guarantee I will see you both in the future. And the past.”