11
A Day Out at Dixon Park
Bronson replaces his cape. Skate Day in the park. Bugs gets what’s coming to him. Dogboy saves the day.
Mr. Horum slid his key into the cash register and the drawer popped open. He reached in and pulled out three crisp twenty dollar bills then handed them to Bronson. Bronson instinctively counted the money.
“No worry,” Mr. Horum said, “is all there.
“And then some,” Bronson said.
“You work good, you get raise. What the big surprise?” Mr. Horum winked at Bronson as he closed the register.
“Mr. Horum,” Bronson said, “silly question. Do I get an employee discount?”
Mr. Horum arched his eyebrow. “What you want?”
“I need a cape,” Bronson said.
Mr. Horum laughed at the boy. “What you need cape for? To jump buildings in single bound I betcha.”
“I wish,” Bronson replied. “No. To distract my audience. I do a little razzly-dazzly stuff with the cape and they won’t be paying attention to what I’m doing with my hands.” Bronson had to replace the cape that had been stolen from him the night before, but he wasn’t sure Mr. Horum would be that accommodating if he knew his number one employee was moonlighting as a superhero.
“Why you need a cape to do tricks for friends, hmmb?” Mr. Horum asked. “Kids make fun of you if you wear big fancy cape.”
“Um, there’s this talent show. At school so it’s like a real performance.” Bronson hated lying to Mr. Horum, but he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with him either.
“Enough said. I got the best cape for you, I betcha.” Mr. Horum ran in the back room and returned a moment later with a roll of a black velvet material. He whipped the roll out and Bronson saw it was a fine cape with a high collar. A real magician’s cape. It almost looked like it could belong to a wizard. “This cape I wear when I do magic for shows. You like?”
Bronson touched the fabric. Smooth. He noticed a little pocket inside the cape. That could come in handy for some of his tricks. He picked the cape up off the counter and put it on. He flapped out the sides of it and felt as it waved through the air. Yes, this would do just fine.
“It’s great, Mr. Horum,” Bronson said. “How much?”
Mr. Horum frowned at Bronson. “We friends, right?”
“Sure,” Bronson said.
Mr. Horum scratched his head. “And what friends do again?”
“Cover each other?” Bronson asked.
“Ah-ha. And what cape do?”
“It covers me,” Bronson replied.
Mr. Horum clapped and danced around. “Smart boy. No charge. I cover you. You cover me. We cover each other.”
Bronson didn’t know how to respond to the gesture. People usually didn’t just offer him things.
“I… thank you,” Bronson said. ”You know, Mr. Horum, I think you might be my best friend.”
Mr. Horum ruffled Bronson’s hair as he took the cape off. “Sad for boy like you to have old Mr. Horum as best friend. Now you go. You hard worker, but you need to be kid, too. Make friends with kids, you know?”
“I’ll try, Mr. Horum,” Bronson said.
Dixon Park was known the world over as one of the premiere destinations for skateboarders, rollerbladers, and other urban athletes. Any skater worth his salt had spent time grinding the rails and park benches in the park. For awhile Colta City tried to distance itself from that image. They’d even tried to ban it at one point but a protest by a 90-year-old man who liked to see the park being used squashed that pretty fast. He’d hopped on a skateboard himself and tried to get the police to arrest him. The image of this elderly man rocking back and forth on a skateboard while two younger men supported him as he yelled at a couple beat cops to take him in was a powerful image. WRDB reporter Kathleen Hayworth was there that day with her camera crew to capture the iconic image. Today, however, she was more or less phoning it in.
She was in Dixon Park again, underneath a banner that read “WRDB TV 3 PRESENTS – SKATE DAY IN THE PARK.” Kids zoomed around on skateboards. Others practiced parkour on the playground. Still others sat on the grass enjoying the food and drinks provided by the TV station.
Kathleen checked her teeth and hair in a small mirror then took a swig from her bottled water. Cindy, her student intern from a local middle school, positioned herself behind the camera and waved her fingers 5… 4… 3…
Kathleen snapped into character. “Thanks, Dave,” she said through a pasted-on smile, “we’re out here today for WRDB’s big Skate Day in the Park. Children from several schools have come together for a fun day of sun and skating, and it’s all brought to you today by WRDB CARES. Join me at six for highlights from the day. This is Kathleen Hayworth, reporting from Dixon Park.”
“Clear,” Cindy said as she lowered the camera.
Kathleen set the microphone on the ground beside her. “Did I look okay?” she asked.
“You looked great. Very professional,” Cindy said.
“That is exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re good at this,” Kathleen said. “Why don’t you take the other camera out and grab some B-Roll. We’ll meet back here in an hour for interviews.”
Bronson was also at the park that day and was standing around watching the kids doing parkour on the playground. He recognized one of the kids from a few weeks ago that he’d met outside of his uncle’s apartment. A few minutes later Bronson walked up to the kid as he was eying up a new path.
“Hey,” the kid said, “how goes it?”
“Great,” Bronson said. “How ‘bout yourself?”
“Okay. Some crazy crap went down but I’m good now.”
“Good to hear,” Bronson said. “I’ve been dealing with crazy crap times a thousand. But, hey, that stuff you showed me a couple weeks back… works pretty good.”
“Tight. You got moves? Show me.”
Bronson didn’t think showing off with all of kids from his school around seemed like a great idea. “Aw, I can’t right now,” he said. “I had a little problem with my back a couple days ago.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Osbert falling on him wasn’t pleasant.
“You don’t got to play with me,” the kid said. “You ain’t practiced once, have you?”
“No, I have,” Bronson said. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. Oh, I never got your name.”
“Axle,” the boy said as he extended his hand to Bronson. “My bros call me Axle.”
“I’m Bronson,” Bronson said as they shook hands. Bronson looked over Axle’s shoulder and saw Cindy shooting some footage of the kids sitting on the grass. “Gotta go. Thanks again.”
Bronson ran over and tapped Cindy on the shoulder.
“Hey, I’m filming here,” Cindy said without looking at him. He stepped several feet away and waited for her to finish.
Cindy took the camera off her shoulder and turned around. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I’m shooting stuff for WRDB. It’s pretty important.”
“That’s great,” Bronson said. Cindy was surprised rubbing it in was kind of anticlimactic, but Bronson was happy for her. “You got a couple minutes?” Bronson asked. “I’ll grab us some hot dogs.”
Cindy’s first instinct was to say no, but a hot dog did sound pretty good. “Sure, kid. I’ll be over there,” she said as she pointed at a bench.
Bronson came back a few minutes later with two hot dogs. He held out one to Cindy just as Bugs rode by on his skateboard and snatched it out of his hand.
“Thanks, miss. I’m starving,” Bugs said.
Bronson grabbed the back of Bugs’s shirt and he fell off the skateboard. Bronson knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he was getting real tired of this kid. He wondered how Bugs would react if he knew he was picking on a superhero.
“That’s for Cindy, jerk,” Bronson said.
Bugs jumped up and pushed Bronson back. “You just messed with the wrong guy. I’ll take both you and your little girlfriend down.” Bronson wanted to hit him. He wanted to change into Dogboy and show Bugs who he was really messing with.
“That’s fine, Bugs,” he said. “Sorry. Just take the food and go.”
“That’s what I thought,” Bugs said. “Thanks for the food.” Bugs took a bite of the hot dog and skated off.
Bronson walked over and sat down next to Cindy. She still seemed pretty mad. He looked down at the hot dog he had left and figured he’d do the right thing (although he hated to give away free food).
“Here, Cindy,” he said as he handed her the hot dog. She didn’t look at him, but she took the hot dog and inhaled it. “If there weren’t all these people around I swear I would have clobbered that guy.”
Cindy stood up, took a few deeps breaths, and turned to Bronson. “Butt out, new kid. I don’t need you sticking up for me. I’m not afraid of him or the teachers or anybody.” Cindy stood up and shoved the camera in Bronson’s lap. “I’m gonna kick his butt.” Cindy ran after Bugs.
“Cindy,” Bronson called after her. His vision went orange and he saw Bugs knocked out near the statue of Cassandra stealing the Eye of Apollo that was near the fountain in Dixon Park. He came back to the present and ran after Cindy, hoping he could stop her for both her and Bugs’s sake.
Osbert waddled down Sansom Street near the entrance to Dixon Park. Hot John walked behind him with a bandage on his shoulder. He squinted against the sunlight. It was against Guild protocol to wander around during daylight hours, but for some reason Andrus thought that Dogboy would be there that day. Osbert suspected that Andrus was setting them up, but he didn’t think Andrus a fool and hoped that he wouldn’t have his two most trusted members arrested.
“There’s sure a lot of cops, Osbert,” Hot John said. Two policemen stood at the gates to the park, and there was a dozen or more inside.
“Andrus knew there would be,” Osbert replied.
“Kids ain’t clean, though. Most of them are big snotballs,” Hot John said.
Osbert pulled a pack of moist towelettes from his vest pocket. “Fear not, my obsessive-compulsive compatriot. These claim to kill 99.9% of germs.” Hot John reached for the towelettes and Osbert pulled them away. “Ah-ah, Jonathan,” Osbert said, “not until after we’re done. Or do you want to share in the same fate as our cowpoke friend?”
“That ain’t funny,” Hot John said. “Andrus ain’t—”
“Andrus isn’t going to harm us as long as we get the boy,” Osbert said. With that they walked into Dixon Park.
Cindy chased Bugs through the crowd. She knocked some sixth graders over, and she’s spilled some guy’s drink, but she was keeping up with him. In the distance was the statue. Bronson picked up speed and touched her shoulder. Normally a person would take that as a cue to stop, but Cindy was so intent on taking Bugs down she didn’t even notice the additional resistance. She kept running but Bronson’s hand held her back. Her feet flew out from under her and she landed flat on her butt.
“You should start running now,” she said while she winced.
“Cindy,” Bronson said, “don’t fight Bugs. We both know you would win. What’s the point? What if you hurt him real bad?”
Cindy got back up and smacked Bronson’s temple. “He’s a bully,” she said, “and nobody ever pushes him around. I’d pay to see that. Kid deserves it.”
“Somebody get this creep offa me,” Bugs shouted from over by the statue. Hot John was holding Bugs over his head while Osbert stood beside them pawing his vest. Not them. Not here.
Cindy snatched her camera from Bronson and started filming. “This is going to be good,” she said.
Bronson needed to deal with these crooks, and he figured here was as good a place as any. Lots of cops around so hopefully they’d get arrested.
“Nuts,” he said to Cindy, “I’m… uh… late for work.”
“Fine. Miss all the…” She turned her head to look at Bronson, but he was gone.
“Fun?”
Kathleen ran up and jumped in front of the camera. She was carrying her microphone and shoved the cable at Cindy’s face.
“Start shooting,” she said. “This is actual news.”
A few policemen surrounded the two criminals. One of the officers put his hand on his gun. Hot John put Bugs in a big bear hug. Osbert held up his hands.
“Officers,” Osbert said, “as Oscar Wilde once wrote: ‘Do not rise. It will avail thee nothing.’” He pulled his vest up and showed off a patched-together bomb with a digital timer mounted on the front. The policemen all took a couple of steps back.
A dozen yards away from the statue two storm grates popped open. Dozens of thieves slipped out and into the crowd. They approached the policemen from behind and overtook them, forcing them to the ground.
“Thank you, officers,” Osbert said.
Bugs fought hard against Hot John. But every wiggle caused him to hold Bugs tighter.
Osbert put his vest down and adjusted his glasses. “My conscience would suffer if the boy was to come to harm, but the man who holds him now doesn’t suffer from that scruple.” Hot John grabbed Bugs’s arm and twisted it just hard enough to get him to cry out without hurting him.
“We’re looking for a boy that dresses like a dog,” Osbert said.
Dogboy jumped out from the crowd. He’d stayed back to get a read on things but why not give the people what they want?
“Hey, cranky,” Dogboy said, “long time, no eat?”
“This would be him,” Osbert said.
Dogboy took a step toward them. “Let him go,” he said.
Osbert walked over to Dogboy and knelt down to look him in the eye slits.
“We’ll trade him,” Osbert said. He pointed at Dogboy. “One boy for another.”
Dogboy pulled his knife out of the pocket on his new cape and approached Osbert. Several members of the crowd shouted at him to stop.
“Listen to them, Dogboy,” Osbert said. ”Don’t be the fool who fights when he’s already been beaten.”
“There’s not many other ways to deal with bullies like you,” Dogboy said.
Kathleen leaned over to Cindy. “D’you get that?” she asked.
“Oh, I got it,” Cindy replied.
Dogboy took another step toward Osbert. Osbert waved his hand in the air. “Proceed, Jonathan,” he said.
Hot John pulled back his mallet hand and cracked Bugs in the nose. Bugs screamed as blood started dripping down his lips. Cindy smiled behind the camera.
“So,” Osbert said, “will you come with us, or do I allow my brother here to have his fun?”
Dogboy felt a little satisfied when he saw Bugs get what was coming to him, but he knew if he didn’t save him Hot John might kill him. He placed the knife back in his cape and held up his hands. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll come with you. Just don’t hurt anybody.”
Hot John lowered Bugs to the ground while the scattered thieves formed a circle around him, Osbert, and Dogboy. They moved to an open sewer grate across the way. Osbert flashed the bomb under his vest to the police as they passed.
They arrived at the grate. Hot John jumped down first. He held his hand up to Dogboy to help him down. Dogboy brushed it aside and jumped down past him. Osbert sat on the edge of the opening. “Don’t follow us,” he said to the crowd, “lest I explode this device. With that, my men and I shall humbly retreat.”
Osbert jump down, followed by several of the thieves. Up from the hole flew the Osbert’s bomb (no longer attached to Osbert). One of the thieves strapped it on. Everybody else went down into the sewers and the remaining thief lowered the grate and stood on top of it. He’d been instructed to stand there until the police apprehended him. That would give them all the time they needed to follow the sewers to the subway system, and from there they were home free.
Kathleen stood in front of Cindy’s camera with her microphone. Cindy counted down with her fingers: 3… 2… 1…
“This is Kathleen Hayworth for WRDB Action News, where the scene has turned tragic out here in Dixon Park. A WRDB Cares charity event was disrupted by a dozen men emerging from the sewers. They allegedly assaulted a middle-school student whose identity remains unknown at this time.
“His name was Bugs,” Cindy offered from behind the camera.
Kathleen covered the mic and mouthed “I know” to Cindy. She continued. “The men also threatened the crowd with a crude bomb and abducted a small boy in a mask who was referred to as Dogboy throughout the altercation. WRDB was here on the scene and we’ll be bringing the startling footage at 5 pm. Back to you, Dave.”
The policemen grabbed the remaining thief and handcuffed him as they read him his rights. Cindy lowered the camera and ejected the memory cart so it could be captured in the news van on the way back to the station.
“So who do you think that Dogboy kid was?” Cindy asked Kathleen.
“I don’t know,” Kathleen replied as they sprinted across the park, “but whoever he was, he’s probably dead now.”
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