Superhero

It wasn’t the cannibalistic lawnmower that etched a frown into Jack’s face. It was the cloud of melancholy that perpetually hovered overhead, soaking his bones in a lukewarm water that made his limbs feel twice as heavy.

The orange beams of light from the setting sun streamed across the apartment’s cramped living room, illuminating a pair of discarded socks and dirty dishes on the coffee table. A box fan rattled noisily nearby, drowned out by the newscaster on the TV.

“Our top story tonight,” The female anchor said, “Machine on machine violence erupted today in the south suburbs, resulting in one lawnmower tearing another apart. Investigators say that the perpetrator may be the same lawnmower from last week that also attacked the farmers market and destroyed Mrs. Pott’s collection of garden gnomes. The machine is still at large and considered to be hostile and dangerous.”

The program cut to a shot of a one-story house with police tape surrounding the front yard. An old man knelt over the rusted remains of his own lawnmower – the latest victim. Jack changed the channel, checking the other news stations for something new, only to find the same story. It had been reiterated hundreds of times, the new small talk go-to for everyone in the city. No one knew where it came from, but that didn’t stop the internet from theorizing its origin story. Cult followings and Facebook fan pages popped up left and right for the lawnmower, flooded daily with pictures and stories claiming to have spotted it or been chased down by it.

The sound of a key in the front door drew Jack’s attention. A moment later, Mickie walked into the apartment carrying to brown paper bags filled with groceries. A small spark of joy went off inside Jack at Mickie’s arrival, giving him enough fuel to fight off the cloud around him and stand up. “Hey you,” Jack flashed a smile.

It was not returned. Mickie sighed at the sight of Jack, his brown eyes looking Jack up and down as disappointment painted his expression. “Jack, I called you three times. Why are you still in your pajamas? Haven’t you showered yet? It’s almost seven and your hair looks like a greasy mess.”

Mickie’s words mercilessly snuffed out Jack’s spark of joy. “My phone’s charging and I woke up late,” Jack muttered.

The lines on Mickie’s forehead uncrossed as his expression softened. “Did you have trouble sleeping again?”

“Kinda.” The carpet began pulling at Jack’s feet, rooting him to the spot as Mickie began to wordlessly put away the groceries. “So, why’d you call?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mickie said. “They’ll be here soon.”

Before Jack could ask who, excited knocking, like two little hands rapidly tapping away, came from the front door. A young voice sounded from the other side. “Uncle Jack, Uncle Mickie! I’m here!”

“Donna’s coming over,” Mickie said as he walked over to the front door. He opened it to a short and plump woman and an overly excited looking five-year-old boy.

“Uncle Mickie!” The boy cried, throwing his hands up into the air in celebration.

“Little Louie, how’s my favorite nephew?” Mickie asked, scooping up the boy into his arms and spinning, the boy becoming a giggling mess.

“Mommy says you’re going to take me to the movies!” Louie said once he calmed a little bit.

“We are?” Mickie asked. “And I suppose you want popcorn and some candy when we get to the theater, don’t you?”

“Yes please!”

“I’ll send you some money for it,” the woman, Donna, said to Mickie. “And thanks a million for watching him. It’s so hard to find a sitter this last minute.”

“Say no more,” Mickie said. “I think I owe my sister a few free babysitting sessions after all the times you bailed me out of trouble with mom and dad growing up.”

“What kind of trouble?” Louie asked.

“Nothing you need to know about. Can’t be giving you any ideas, now can I?” Donna pinched her son’s cheek. Then she noticed Jack and gave him a once over. A smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. “Nice outfit. How’s your poetry going?”

“Why’s Uncle Jack in his underwear?”

An uncomfortable and pricking sensation moved under Jack’s skin as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. He side-stepped behind the couch to somewhat hide his pants-less bottom half. “H-Hey Donna. The poetry is fine. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Yeah, some poor customer puked all over the new hire and she was so traumatized they needed someone to replace her. Didn’t Mickie tell you?”

“I would have if he’d been anywhere near his phone.” Mickie said quickly.

The uncomfortable sensation returned with a vengeance when Donna turned an eye on Jack; her brow peeked up in a knowing look. “Well, don’t keep my baby up too late. He has an especially important dentist visit tomorrow at nine. I’ll be back around eleven tonight to pick him up.”

---

“That was the best movie ever!” Louie cheered, accenting every word with an excited leap into the air. He walked between his uncles, holding their hands, and sometimes swinging between them as he recounted details of the flick. He made sure to throw in plenty of ‘Pows!’ and ‘Hiyas!’ during his retelling of the combat. “Captain Jetbeam is the most amazing superhero! Uncle Jack, do you think your comics will be turned into a movie?”

Jack involuntarily twitched, then forced himself to smile down at Louie. He could feel Mickie’s eyes on him, but Jack didn’t want to know what emotion could be read behind them. “I don’t need a movie so long as my number one fan likes my comics.”

Louie turned his big eyes up to Jack, excitement dancing about them. “Do you have any new ones for me to read?”

“Not right now. Maybe next time you come over.”

“Then I’ll come over tomorrow!”

Jack tried not to sigh or show the anguish that was churning in his stomach. He decided to let the conversation drop, turning his attention back to the street. The theater they’d chosen was only a few blocks from their apartment, and it was an unusually cool summer night. The neighborhood was relatively safe, but the upcoming block wasn’t well lit.

As the three rounded the corner, Louie squealed in delight upon spotting a stray cat crouching at the mouth of an alleyway. He let go of his uncles and charged after it, Mickie yelling his name and chasing after. Jack also followed but paused momentarily at the sound of an engine. He scanned the streets, but they were empty. He shook his head, chiding himself for stopping over something so trivial, and went after Mickie and Louie.

Louie had chased the cat back into the alley and had apparently caught it because Mickie was chewing his nephew out when Jack entered the alley. “Do you have any idea how dangerous what you just did was?” Mickie’s voice was near shrill.

Louie was frowning, his bottom lip jutting out. He held up the black cat as an offering. “But the kitty is so cute.”

As if trying to help Louie’s case, the cat meowed in agreement.

“Louie, that cat probably has thousands of diseases. Your mom would probably kill me if she knew I let you so much as touch it.”

“It is a cute cat,” Jack said, walking over to Louie and kneeling in front of him. “But uncle Mickie is right. You can’t bring it home with you. It probably has friends out here that would miss it.”

Louie’s bottom lip protruded even more, but he eventually considered with a weak sounding, ‘Okay.’ He set the cat down, who charged deeper into the alley the second its paws touched the ground.  

Jack gave Louie’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Now let’s go home and get ready for bed, okay? I’ll let you watch TV after you brush your teeth, okay?”

“Okay.” Louie said, his sadness was already gone from his face. But then his eyes shifted from Jack’s face to something behind him. “What’s that?”

Jack turned to the mouth of the alley to where a black shadow now sat. In the dim light coming from the streetlights behind it, a vague idea pulled at the back of Jack’s mind. The outline looked familiar, in a way that made him feel extremely unsettled.

Before he could say anything, the sound of an engine rumbling to life echoed off the brick walls of the alleyway. Two headlights on the front of the machine illuminated the narrow space, spotlighting the three of them.

Mickie spoke. “Jack, isn’t that—"

He was cut off by the roaring cry that was the lawnmower’s blades beginning to spin. The machine charged down the alleyway.

Jack swore, loudly; then instantly regretted it and hoped Louie wouldn’t repeat it. He scooped the five-year-old up with one hand and pulled Mickie with the other. Mickie stumbled at first, swearing as well, but fear helped him find his footing and soon the two men were sprinting away.

The rumbling machine pursued them, even around the sharp corners they made at random; the lawnmower turned on a dime without losing even the slightest amount of speed. Jack kept glancing behind himself every few steps to see that the machine was gaining on them. He also realized that the Facebook groups were right about three things. First, it was gigantic, like one of those industrial ride-mowers that were used for highway ditches. Second, it was the most obnoxious shade of red he’d ever seen, like someone had wanted it to look like a fluorescent firetruck. And three, there wasn’t a driver.

He wasn’t sure at first, but every time he glanced back, he became more and more sure that the driver’s seat was empty. His mind buzzed with ideas in ways that it hadn’t done in months, trying to explain the driverless machine to himself.

“This way!” Mickie shot to his left, darting down the alley. Jack went to follow, but his foot slipped out from under him, rolling on a discarded aluminum can. Panic flared within him as the concrete came closer. But Louie’s frightened cry steeled Jack’s nerves. Jack’s feet managed to dance about in just the right way so that he regained his balance, but it came with a cost. The lawnmower was less than a yard behind him, and he had missed his chance to follow Mickie.

Jack’s feet pounded away the pavement in sync with his heartbeat pounding just as hard against his eardrums. He had lost all sense of direction, having merely followed Mickie earlier while his mind was focused on the lawnmower. He could feel Louie’s small hands against his chest, clutching at his shirt.

The path ahead veered to the right, and as Jack turned it, the view ahead of him opened wide. Before him was a short metal fence, and just beyond it, the river. Jack wrapped his arms around Louie tighter as the idea hit him.

“Hold on kid!”

Jack mustered the last of his energy, putting everything into his legs as he ran for the fence. He counted the steps backward in his head until he reached it – three, two, one – then spun to face the lawnmower and jumped. His right foot hit the hood of the machine, then his left, and he pushed off as high as he could. The excruciating screech of shredding metal filled the air as Jack landed back on the pavement. He looked back to the hole in the fence just as the sound of the lawnmower dropping into the river reached his ear.

Jack breathed heavily, and his legs gave out from under him. Pain erupted as his rear end hit the concrete, but he could only focus on how much his lungs burned. Louie, still in his arms, stared at the spot the machine had disappeared. The child was silent for only a few moments, until…

“Holy shit,” Louie said.

Jack groaned, dropping his head back. “Please—do not say that in front of your mother,” he said between each gasp for air.

Mickie’s voice came from the alleyway they had just emerged from, accompanied by rapid footsteps. “Jack! Louie!” A second later, Mickie’s arms enveloped the two of them, and he placed a kiss on Jack’s cheek. “Are you two okay? What the heck happened?”

“Uncle Jack saved us!” Louie offered excitedly. “It was so cool, just like a superhero! He flew through the air and tricked that thing into the river!”

“A superhero, huh? So now you’re becoming what you write about.” Mickie gave Jack a happy, but inquisitive look.

“You should make a hero that fights lawnmowers!”

Jack snorted, reaching out to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” Then he took out his phone and opened the camera app. “You wanna help me take some reference photos?”

“Yeah!”

Mickie chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You two are ridiculous. Shouldn’t we at least tell the cops where their lawnmower is?”

“What, are you crazy? They won’t let me take any more photos after they show up.” Jack said. Louie echoed his agreement.

Mickie rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone anyways. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to take pictures. Just don’t get too close to the edge.”

“Okay.” Jack and Louie both chimed, and then went about photographing the cannibalistic lawnmower with smiles on their faces. As Jack snapped photo after photo of Louie jumping about the road, he was already sketching character ideas in his head.