of whoever it was
that was crying out in pain, alone in the night.
At the top of the hill, she climbed up through the half
burnt out vegetation of a once palatial property, using exposed sprinkler
piping to haul herself up the last few feet onto a tiled patio of immense
proportion. Paving stones spread away toward the foundation of what had once
been a small mansion. A pool lay between Ash and the remains of the house.
Charcoaled wood and bits of debris floated on the surface in collections of
junky flotsam.
And...
On the other side, near the blackened remains of an immense
fire pit and the tortured sculptures of melted patio furniture, sat a large
man. He wore a cape and a mask. His hands were covered by thick oversized
work gloves. About his sizeable waist was a police utility belt. On the ground
next to him lay a small backpack.
“Daddy!” he bellowed again into the night, raising his head
from his downcast sobs, turning to look all around as though what he called for
must surely be nearby and coming soon. “Daddy, where are you?” he wailed, not
seeing Ash. Then he lowered his head and wept, sobbing thickly, massive
shoulders shuddering.
Ash wiped her hands and got to her feet. She crossed the
fire-blackened poolside, cautiously, and sat down next to Cory who continued to
weep even as he laid his giant head on her shoulder and sobbed into her slender
neck.
Chapter Seven
Before the world ended...
Cory was born. They didn’t know at first. But later, it
was his mother who knew.
“He’s not right, Colin,” she told her husband.
“He’ll be fine,” his father, a rookie cop just out of the
marines explained as he left for the night shift. A long night of driving the
alleys and quiet streets of their town with his officer-trainer. “Boys are
always slower to come along.”
Except Cory stayed slow.
And one day, when Cory’s dad, Colin, was on patrol, his
mother left him with Mrs. Swinton to go to the market, “real quick” she said,
and never came back.
Never.
Ever.
Colin couldn’t blame her. He never did. He just took
over. He just took over everything. And of course, there was Mrs. Swinton...
and some others who came and went throughout the years.
When Cory was twelve...
... well, when he was twelve, he still went to elementary
school with the other “normal” kids. The school system, good teachers and a
caring principal, felt it was not just good for Cory, but good for the other
kids too.
Kids like Bryan Ratigan...
... well, you know... there’s always a Bryan Ratigan, isn’t
there? One day Cory found himself being pushed down again and again out on the
football-baseball field behind the bleachers. Where the teachers couldn’t
exactly see what was going on. All the cool kids watched. Sort of laughing.
It was okay to laugh at Cory. He did a lot of funny things
even though he didn’t mean to be so funny. After all, he was “special”. And,
of course...
... well of course, there was his whole Batman thing.
Bryan Ratigan had lured Cory out there. It was May. School
was almost over. Elementary school was almost over. The end of the sixth
grade. Then they would all be off to junior high. Real adults. Makeup for
girls. Fights for boys.
Boyfriends.
Girlfriends.
Dances.
Except Cory. Cory would be going to a “special” school.
So, it was their last chance to have fun with Cory. Bryan’s
last chance. Most of them had known Cory their whole time in elementary
school. If you’d asked them, they’d have told you they’d known Cory their
whole lives, which was, as far as they considered the length of lives, the sum
of themselves. Don’t we say that when we’re young? Don’t we think that all
our years in elementary school are the sum total of our lives?
Didn’t we?
Such a small part, isn’t it? Now that we know how long a
life can be.
Bryan Ratigan pushed Cory down again.
And
that was crying out in pain, alone in the night.
At the top of the hill, she climbed up through the half
burnt out vegetation of a once palatial property, using exposed sprinkler
piping to haul herself up the last few feet onto a tiled patio of immense
proportion. Paving stones spread away toward the foundation of what had once
been a small mansion. A pool lay between Ash and the remains of the house.
Charcoaled wood and bits of debris floated on the surface in collections of
junky flotsam.
And...
On the other side, near the blackened remains of an immense
fire pit and the tortured sculptures of melted patio furniture, sat a large
man. He wore a cape and a mask. His hands were covered by thick oversized
work gloves. About his sizeable waist was a police utility belt. On the ground
next to him lay a small backpack.
“Daddy!” he bellowed again into the night, raising his head
from his downcast sobs, turning to look all around as though what he called for
must surely be nearby and coming soon. “Daddy, where are you?” he wailed, not
seeing Ash. Then he lowered his head and wept, sobbing thickly, massive
shoulders shuddering.
Ash wiped her hands and got to her feet. She crossed the
fire-blackened poolside, cautiously, and sat down next to Cory who continued to
weep even as he laid his giant head on her shoulder and sobbed into her slender
neck.
Chapter Seven
Before the world ended...
Cory was born. They didn’t know at first. But later, it
was his mother who knew.
“He’s not right, Colin,” she told her husband.
“He’ll be fine,” his father, a rookie cop just out of the
marines explained as he left for the night shift. A long night of driving the
alleys and quiet streets of their town with his officer-trainer. “Boys are
always slower to come along.”
Except Cory stayed slow.
And one day, when Cory’s dad, Colin, was on patrol, his
mother left him with Mrs. Swinton to go to the market, “real quick” she said,
and never came back.
Never.
Ever.
Colin couldn’t blame her. He never did. He just took
over. He just took over everything. And of course, there was Mrs. Swinton...
and some others who came and went throughout the years.
When Cory was twelve...
... well, when he was twelve, he still went to elementary
school with the other “normal” kids. The school system, good teachers and a
caring principal, felt it was not just good for Cory, but good for the other
kids too.
Kids like Bryan Ratigan...
... well, you know... there’s always a Bryan Ratigan, isn’t
there? One day Cory found himself being pushed down again and again out on the
football-baseball field behind the bleachers. Where the teachers couldn’t
exactly see what was going on. All the cool kids watched. Sort of laughing.
It was okay to laugh at Cory. He did a lot of funny things
even though he didn’t mean to be so funny. After all, he was “special”. And,
of course...
... well of course, there was his whole Batman thing.
Bryan Ratigan had lured Cory out there. It was May. School
was almost over. Elementary school was almost over. The end of the sixth
grade. Then they would all be off to junior high. Real adults. Makeup for
girls. Fights for boys.
Boyfriends.
Girlfriends.
Dances.
Except Cory. Cory would be going to a “special” school.
So, it was their last chance to have fun with Cory. Bryan’s
last chance. Most of them had known Cory their whole time in elementary
school. If you’d asked them, they’d have told you they’d known Cory their
whole lives, which was, as far as they considered the length of lives, the sum
of themselves. Don’t we say that when we’re young? Don’t we think that all
our years in elementary school are the sum total of our lives?
Didn’t we?
Such a small part, isn’t it? Now that we know how long a
life can be.
Bryan Ratigan pushed Cory down again.
And
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