The Samaritan

Okay, time to meet a superhero, Sara thought. She looked up the gleaming, glass  60-story skyscraper before her. She had just stepped off the bus in front of the office of The Samaritan. 

She still couldn’t believe her editor had given her the assignment. Once a year, every year, The Samaritan picked one news agency to do an exclusive with him. And this year he picked The Pacific, and The Pacific had chosen her. No matter what magazine did the story, it was usually a fluffy piece about how great The Samaritan was. And she couldn’t blame them. 

It was hard to find anything wrong with the guy. He wasn’t some big-muscled, brash super hero from the comic books who solves every problem with his fists. The Samaritan just...saved people.

 As Sara waited for the crosswalk signal, she looked back over her notes. The Samaritan had rescued tens of thousands. But his biggest rescue ever recorded was during the Nampa Wildfire in 2010. When entire neighborhoods were surrounded by infernos. Hotshot crews had to pull back. And just when everyone thought all was lost, here comes The Samaritan, walking out of the smoke, with 5,324 people walking behind him. All homeowners he had apparently evacuated before flames reached their homes. A miracle. 

She crossed the street. His name was overtly biblical, which annoyed her. But it fit. Some criticized him for not doing more. But many, including Sara, thought it was smart; not getting involved in politics and just saving lives. She quickly scribbled a question about that at the end of an already exhaustive list of questions. Is 37 enough? she thought. Or too many?

“He’s not the man you think he is…”

Sara froze. She had been so lost in thought she didn’t see the bum sitting a couple of feet away from the front steps. She’d almost walked into him. 

“I’m sorry?” she asked, looking down at him. He was dirty; his gray and brown beard starting to yellow. And his clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in years. 

“Of course I’m talking to you,” he replied. His voice raspy and awkwardly loud. “You’re the one going to interview him this year right?” 

“Um, yeah.” Sara said. She wondered how he knew that, but didn’t want to encourage him. 

He continued anyway. “Yeah one of you, young, female reporters comes here every year around the same time for his big exclusive,” he said. Sheesh, how long had this guy been begging out here?

“Um, I don’t have any cash sir, sorry,” She wondered why she was still talking to him. Just walk away!

The bum let out a sharp cackle. 

“I don’t want your money! I want to warn you. The Samaritan is NOT who he says he is,” he said ominously. 

Great. He was crazy too. 

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to be rude but I don’t want to be late,” Just walk away! She told herself again. But he continued. 

“Ask him how EXACTLY he saved those 5,000 people in Nampa.” 

“Um, sure thing,” she said. She turned to walk away. 

“And don’t let up until he tells you EXACTLY how he did it, word for word.” Sara nodded, still walking away. Of course some crazy guy would try to rattle her before the most important interview of her young career. She took a deep breath, calming herself as she grabbed the door handle. 

“And one more thing!” he yelled at her. “His weakness is wood! That’s the only thing that can penetrate his skin!” Sara didn’t turn this time as her cheeks flushed. The door closed behind her, drowning out his voice. 

***

“Sara Valasquez?” 

Sara popped her head up. She had been lost in thought again, trying to find the answer in her notes (and on Google) to the bum’s question. Surely someone had written about how The Samaritan rescued all those people. But surprisingly, she’d come up empty. All the accounts said he just walked out of the smoke, 5,000 people in tow. 

She got up and walked over to the receptionist’s desk. Why was she letting the question of a crazy person distract her? But she couldn’t get it out of her head. 

“Right this way!” The receptionist gestured towards enormous metal doors at the end of the hallway. As Sara approached them they opened automatically. She was greeted by a huge corner office. Her whole newsroom could’ve fit inside. The decor matched the doors. Shiny, modern, metallic. And there, on the opposite side of the room, sitting behind a glass desk, was the world’s only known superhero. 

“Sara! So good to meet you in person. Come in, take a seat!” he called.

“Thank you!” Sara heard the tremor in her voice. You got this! She had prepared well, but how can someone not be nervous when meeting a real-life Superman? 

“It’s so good to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “I really look forward to these interviews, and you came highly recommended.” He didn’t have a cape, but was dressed in all silver. 

“The Pleasure is all mine, Mr., um, Mr. The Samaritan?” she stammered. 

“Please, call me Sam,” he said disarmingly. He walked back behind his desk. Sara scanned the room. She couldn’t help but notice that there was nothing wooden anywhere. Forget what that stupid bum said! She knew she had to stay in the moment to do this well.

 With a wave of his hand a chair at the side of the room slid right up behind her so she could sit in front of his desk. 

“Telekinesis?” she tried to ask nonchalantly.

“Good eye! Along of course with telepathy, invulnerability, and an intoxicating smile,” he said with a wink. Not humility though, she thought. 

“Well, Sam…” It felt weird calling him that. “Shall we begin? I thought we could review some of the questions we wanted to go over in case there was anything…”

“Sara, Sara please,” he said, cutting her off. “Ask me anything. Tonight, I’m an open book to you, and you alone.” He winked again. Ugh. 

“Well okay then! But don’t say I didn’t warn you...” Sara pulled out her audio recorder and placed it on his desk and got her pen ready. She went on to ask him every single question in her notebook. All 37. And to her surprise, he answered every single one! Sara was shocked at how open he was. A warm sense of gratitude filled her. Here she was, a reporter for only 3 years, and he treated her like a veteran. It felt so natural. So much so she suddenly realized the sun had started to dip down below the downtown towers. 

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry I had no idea what time it was. I’ve just been blabbering here on and on, you’re probably late, or…” 

“Sara, Sara please!” he protested. “I’ve enjoyed every minute.” He got up and walked around the desk. “I’m so glad you were the one to come tonight,” he said, locking eyes with her. 

“Um thanks, me too,” Sara said. His stare seemed too intense. She suddenly felt like making a hasty exit. So she picked up her recorder and started gathering her things. 

“Well thanks again Sam, seriously. This has been incredible. I’ve taken up enough of your time though,” She reached her hand out to shake his again. He slowly clasped her hand and shook it, giving her a questioning look. Sara didn’t know what that meant but turned and walked briskly to the door. 

“Um, Sara?” he called out. She stopped, turning back.  

“Yes, Sam?” 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

She thought for a moment. “Oh right! Sorry, the photographer should be calling you…”

“Not that Sara,” he said. She froze, racking her brain to figure out what she forgot.

“When two people connect like we did tonight Sara, you usually don’t end the evening with a handshake,” he said, winking again. Sara started to feel nauseous. Oh no…

“I don’t know what you mean…” she lied. 

“Come on Sara, I made it easy didn’t I? I mean, I don’t listen to all the reporters like that,” he explained. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” she spat.

“You mean they didn’t tell you?” he asked. Sara just stared at him. 

He sighed. “How many times have I told them… Sara, I’m sorry this wasn’t explained to you. But each year all the news mags send me headshots of their hottest reporters and I pick the one I want that year. I mean, you really think I do this for nothing?” Sara’s head fell. She wanted to cry, scream and break something all at once. But met his gaze instead.

“I’m leaving,” she said resolutely. “And I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” They stared each other down. His smile faded. 

“Wait, you’re serious? Sara, it’s just the price of business. Look I’m not some rapist, if you don’t want to do the deed then just take off your clothes and we..” Sara didn’t wait for him to finish. She bolted for the door. But an armchair came flying from the back of the room and slammed into the doors before she could reach them. She froze. Oh God, oh God...

“Sara,” he said calmly. “I’m not a bad guy, but I’m afraid I must insist.” Sara felt helpless. She knew she was no match for his powers. She turned back towards him, unbuttoning her blouse. Just get it over with.

“There’s a good sport. Don’t look so glum! I promise I’m a great lover,” he said, approaching her. Sara wanted to throw up. Suddenly, the bum’s question came back to her. Why the hell not? 

“Okay, but first, I need to ask you one more thing.” She reached into her pocket, feeling for the digital recorder. 

“Anything Sara!”

“How did you save the Nampa 5,000?” He stopped short, just a few feet away from her. 

“What?” he asked. 

“How did you save them?” she repeated. “I mean, how exactly? It seems no one really knows, and you’ve never explained it before in interviews.” His smile faded again. 

“Well, you’ve seen my powers. You really doubt I could’ve done it?” 

“Of course not! But then you should have no problem explaining it. I’ve always wondered. And specifics of heroic deeds really turn me on,” she said sarcastically. His expression darkened. 

“What do you know?” he asked. 

“Hey come on, you’re an open book right?” Sara said with a wink. It felt good to hit a nerve.

“Well, memories are a funny thing,” he started to explain. He began pacing in a circle around her. “With my telepathic abilities I can surgically erase people’s memories. But I can’t plant new ones. So, let’s just say, there might be a lot of people in Nampa who only remember certain events.” 

“Wait, you mean you didn’t really save those people?” 

“Bingo!” He continued circling her. “I just happened to show up at the scene when a crew of firefighters rescued that entire neighborhood. I thought it might be better if those people instead forgot what actually happened, saw me floating down from a cloud, and then just believed that I saved them!” 

“So you took credit for what other people had done, real heroes.” 

“Right again Sara. You actually are a decent reporter,” he said condescendingly. 

“Were any of them real?” she asked. He slowly shook his head in response.

“But with all your power? Why not just do it yourself?” she asked. 

“Well, believe it or not, I have a very annoying weakness,”Another confirmation of the bum’s words. “And besides I can’t stand all that pressure. What if I fail? Better just to wait and see if it’s successful, then take the credit, and the spoils.” As he said that he came within inches of her, putting his hands on her waist. Sara hoped to God she had packed it today. 

“Don’t worry, of course after telling you all this I’m going to wipe your memory too. So you won’t even have to remember this,” he started sliding his hands down her backside. Sara's fingers finally found it in her pocket. She thanked God for her annoying journalism professor who always said to bring a pencil no matter what. 

As he leaned in for a kiss, Sara quickly took out her pencil and stabbed it into his left eye socket. 

“SHIT!” he screamed and backed away from her. Sara started back peddling for the door, worried she hadn’t really hurt him. But she could see blood running down his face. The bum was right! “HOW DID YOU KNOW?!” he screamed. He wrapped his hand around the pencil, trying to pull it out, screaming as he did. That’s when she realized she was still standing in his office, watching. Run you idiot! 

Sara bolted down the hallway toward the elevator. She heard a whizzing sound and ducked just in time as a metal chair flew over her and smashed through a window on the opposite side of the hall. She reached the elevator and smashed the down button. As she looked back, a lamp crashed into the wall next to her sending glass and porcelain shards everywhere. Sara yelped and fell to the floor. She looked up. The Samaritan was floating in mid-air; floating towards her. There were several heavy looking objects floating around him. He looked down at her, murder in his right eye, a pencil in his left. 

“You’re dead.” 

But with a ring the elevator doors slid open. Sara scrambled inside and started pressing the ‘Close Door’ button repeatedly. She heard him roar and several objects came zooming into the elevator. She put her hands over her head as metal, plastic and glass shrapnel flew all around her. The doors finally closed and the elevator descended. She exhaled in relief to see he hadn’t followed her inside. Okay, when I get to the ground floor, just run right outside. He wouldn’t dare follow me out in public. 

After what felt like an eternity the elevator opened. She sprinted for the lobby doors. She shoved open the heavy glass door and started running down the front steps of the building. She didn’t see him, relief started to wash over her. Until an extension cord wrapped itself around her legs. 

She fell hard. Her head throbbed where it hit the pavement. The Samaritan descended to hover over her, sharp shards of glass floating menacingly around him. 

“Nice try, whore,” the sham superhero said. “Good thing no one’s around to see what I’m about to do to you. And even if they did, I would just wipe their memory.” The glass shards started to slowly glide closer,  jagged edges facing her. Sara’s heart raced. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to scream. But nothing came out. 

“Goodbye you dumb bi-GAAAHHH!” Sara opened her eyes. A long, pointed, wooden shaft stuck out of the left side of his chest. He looked at it, eyes wide with shock. A gurgling sound came from his throat as he collapsed to the ground in a heap. The glass shards all fell, shattering on the pavement around her. Sara saw fletching on the other end of the stick. It was an arrow, but one without a metal tip. She then noticed the bum from earlier standing a few yards behind where The Samaritan had been hovering, holding a bow.  

“Wipe that memory, asshole,” he said. He then walked over to her and offered a hand. “You alright?” he asked. Sara let him help her to her feet, nodding despite feeling she was definitely not alright. His voice sounded different, stronger. Sara blinked, her thoughts racing. She finally was able to string some words together. 

“You...how did you….you were right. About everything, But how...” she stammered. The bum put his bow over his shoulder. 

“I’ve been sitting on that corner waiting to do that for a long time,” he said. “You're the first person who’s actually listened to me. I was waiting out here because I had a feeling you’d be the one.”

“But I don’t understand, who are you?” she asked breathlessly. 

“The one that got away,” he said with a chuckle. “I was one of the Nampa firefighters that day. The only person there who didn’t get their memory wiped. I passed out from smoke inhalation while fighting the fire. The Samaritan left me there thinking I would die, but I survived.”

“After I saw him taking all the credit for that rescue, I made it my life’s mission to study the guy; learn everything about him,” he explained. Sara stared, her mouth open. Then anger boiled up inside her. 

“Well why didn't you just tell someone about this?! Instead of pretending to be a homeless guy outside of his office building?” she questioned angrily. 

“He’s a super being,” he replied politely. “I knew if I said publicly what I knew about him he would just find a way to silence me and wipe people’s memories. I was hoping a good journalist like you could expose him for what he truly is. I’m sorry it took all that though, but I could never get into the building, no matter what I tried.” 

Sara studied him, feeling angry he hadn’t told her more, putting her life in jeopardy, and equally grateful he saved her life.  

“Well I guess I wouldn’t have believed you anyways,” she admitted. “But how are we going to prove….” Sara gasped mid sentence and fumbled in her pocket. She pulled out the recorder. It had been recording the whole time! She heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Looks like you got a better story than the one you came for,” the former firefighter said. 

“Oh yeah…” Sara agreed. She already came up with a headline. A Legacy of Lies: The Truth of The Samaritan...