15
The Ghost in the Subway Car

 

Dogboy becomes an asset to the team. Andrus brags about him. Bronson flies and falls. An old foe returns.

 

Paulus, Kathleen. “Guild of Thieves Baffle Police.” Colta City Herald 24 Jun.

Police are still trying to piece together a mysterious spa heist that occurred on the twenty-seventh block of Oakland Street today. Missy’s Nails ‘N Things was robbed at gunpoint at 6 pm this evening by a group of several armed men. Most of the men wore masks. Witnesses claim a boy dressed in a dog costume was present, but police are unsure if it was the same boy seen in Dixon Park last week or a copycat. Police say the only clue they have to go on is a piece of paper found in an alleyway behind the spa that read “For Andrus.”

Dogboy stood near the back door of the spa holding a couple gym bags stuffed with cash, purses, and jewelry. The items belonged to the ladies Hot John was tying up in the middle of the room. One of them reached out for Dogboy’s arm.

“Honey, you seem like a nice boy,” she said. “Why are you running around with these hoodlums? You shouldn’t get caught up in such things.”

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Dogboy said. He turned to Hot John. “Do we have to tie them up?” he asked.

“Andrus’s orders,” Hot John said.

Esperenza, Carlos. “Dogboy: Villain or Victim?” Free Press 29 Jun.

A local shopkeep claims he was robbed by the infamous Dogboy, who went missing in Dixon Park during an attempted terrorist attack. There have been several reported sightings of Dogboy since his first appearance and subsequent disappearance. Gregory Prattle of the Oliver Street Stop and Save showed us pictures that appear to show Dogboy, accompanied by a large portly gentleman. In them, Dogboy attacks Prattle outside his shop. The boy threw small red flares into Prattle’s eyes then took his wallet. Prattle was released from the hospital today with no serious injuries. An anonymous police representative said they believe the boy is being coerced based on his exchange in Dixon Park the day he disappeared and that witness accounts of the incident support that belief.

Osbert and Bronson sat in a subway car on the way back from a robbery. Bronson flipped his mask around in his hands while he thought about what he’d done.

“I hope the glimmers didn’t blind him permanently or anything,” Bronson said.

Osbert smiled at the child. “Don’t you remember what Andrus told us this morning, my dear boy? The property owners, the businessmen, they are the real enemies in this war. War is hell, as they say, and there are bound to be casualties. But they shouldn’t matter if you fight for the right side.”

“But how do we know we’re on the right side?” Bronson asked.

“We know when we win,” Osbert said.

Delroy, Timothy. “Hammer-Handed Henchmen Hampers Health.” The C.C. Inquirer 27 Jun.

Disaster struck in a local Kraftburn’s Grocery Store on the West Side today. A large man allegedly used a giant mallet to assault several customers and employees today in a daring robbery attempt. Police say descriptions of the assailant match those of the bandit who assaulted a local middle-school boy earlier this month. The store is offering a $100 reward for information leading to the capture of the man, who left one bag boy in serious condition after his rampage.

Bronson sat across the street from Kraftburn’s Grocery watching for the police. He saw Hot John hit the bag boy through the big window on the front of the store. The bag boy’s head caught the corner of his register. Blood spurted out all over the checkered linoleum. Hot John ran out of the store, and Bronson headed back to the subway.

Andrus held a copy of The Colta City Herald above his head. The headline read SECURITY UPPED FOR BIG FOURTH OF JULY BASH. Andrus ripped the newspaper in half and addressed the gathered guild in the meeting hall.

“Look at them in their foolishness. Laugh at their pride and confidence. They think themselves protectors while they wage wars and build atomic bombs and try to make us believe it’s for our own good. They say they represent justice, yet they call us criminals. But we are the freedom fighters. We exist without bias or class or judgment. We possess a great knowledge. A superior science. We are the revolution.”

The hall erupted into applause.

Andrus stepped stage right then motioned with his hand to somebody offstage. “I’d like to introduce you to our newest brother. This child is the guild’s secret weapon. He is more powerful than you can possibly imagine. He’ll bring us our victory. He’ll turn the whole world upside down. My brothers and sisters, I give you Dogboy.”

The crowd cheered. Andrus held his arm out toward the stairs to welcome their new star. The crowd chanted “Dogboy! Dogboy! Dogboy!” as Andrus stood there and smiled.

“Where is the little twerp?” he whispered to one of his men.

Bronson, as it so happened, worked away in an adjacent subway tunnel. He’d stumbled across it a few days prior. An abandoned subway car sat in the center of the tunnel. Both of its left wheels were missing so it tilted back off the ground. A broken pipe stuck out of the wall, a steady stream of what looked to be clean water poured out. Bronson washed his clothes in a bucket filled with the stuff. He had his trunk positioned behind him with several fresh items draped over it drying. He figured he’d hang them up and check out the old subway car while they dried.

Bronson scrubbed a mustard stain out of his cape. His vision went orange but he there was no flash forward this time. He heard a humming that built and built until it split through his skull. He tasted metal on his tongue, then heard a whispered wind as a voice cut through the air.

“Bronson,” it said.

Bronson’s eyes rolled back in his head. Blood poured down from his nostrils. His body itself glowed with the familiar orange aura. It felt like a warm hug. He opened his eyes to see his feet dangling below him a few feet off the ground.

“How are you doing that? Who are you?” he asked.

“You know who I am,” the voice whispered. “You know at the heart of you, son.”

Bronson jerked his head around in the air to find the source of the voice.

“Dad?” he said. “It can’t be you. You… you died.”

“I live on in you.”

The aura around Bronson burned brighter as he bobbed up and down, moving across the tunnel toward the old subway car. “Can I see you and Mom again?” he asked.

“No,” the voice said, “even though we miss you we are both happy here. Son, you waste your legacy. You live with cowards and thieves then call them family.”

“It’s not like I have any real family left,” Bronson said. “Uncle Randolph kicked me out.”

“There are others willing to help you. You didn’t have to resort to this.”

Images flashed through Bronson’s head: Mr. Horum, Cindy, Principal Kane, all with friendly expressions and outreached hands. He knew they cared. That’s why it made it easier for him to push them away…Easier than waiting for them to leave him behind anyway.

“They aren’t villains, Dad,” Bronson said. “Andrus takes care of me. Look, I know on the surface he seems like a rotten crook, but he has reasons for what he does. Good-sounding reasons when he explains them. He’s a good guy underneath everything.”

“Is he?” the voice asked as Bronson’s body drifted down to the ground beside the subway car. The orange aura faded.

“Dad?” Bronson called out into the cavern. “Dad, where are you?”

A groan echoed around inside the subway car, then it began to shake. Bronson scuttled around the car until he got to the doorway. The metal doors lay on the ground beside it. He couldn’t see what was inside, but after another groan he took a deep breath and stepped in to investigate. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he made out the figure of a man in the back of the car. He hung there, hands tied to the bar running along the top.

Bronson took a few steps toward the figure. A low sound came from the back saying “Heh he. Heh he.” Bronson moved toward the back, afraid the man might be in trouble. As he got close the man let out a shriek like a slow death. Bronson took some Wee Glimmers out of his pocket. He moved toward the man with his hand out to show him.

“I’m not going to hurt you with these,” Bronson said. “I just need some light so I can help you, ok?”

The man moaned in agreement. Bronson threw the Wee Glimmers against the ground. Blaze, the cowboy, from the parking garage weeks before stared back at him. Dried blood flaked off of his cheeks. His eyes bulged from their sockets, staring desperately at Bronson.

“Ha-ah,” Blaze said, “Huh uhuh ahuh.”

A small, black, and foul nub poked out of Blaze’s mouth. Bronson couldn’t believe it. Had Andrus done this to him? Blaze pulled against his bonds as he grunted loud nothings at Bronson. He jerked against the ropes. A loud pop echoed through the car. Blaze went limp, his right arm all twisted. He moaned in pain. “Uhh. Awl eh, ug, ooh ah,” he said.

Bronson couldn’t stand to see him in pain. He untied the first of the knots. As it came loose a large shadow blocked out the light coming through the door. Hot John stood there. He shook his head and gestured at Bronson with his mallet hand.

“Andrus ain’t gonna be happy about this,” he said.