<< Super - hero >>

 

written by

 

Mel-o-rama

 

and

 

DK

 

Episode 1

 

"You Only Die Once"

 

A masked teenage boy sat quietly in pain in his dimly lit cell wondering what had gone wrong. "How could I have been so stupid?!" he said to himself. "Who was I fooling?!" He placed his hand on his shoulder and felt that it was still bleeding. The bullet was still in there. "Why won't they take it out? It's the least they could do! They're going to kill me! I just know it!"

The only light that came into the cell came from the space below the door, which space wasn't large enough to see what was going on outside. He was well guarded and he knew there was no escape. He could hear a guard patrolling just outside the door. "What are they going to do to me? I should have never put on this mask! Things would have been so different!"

 

Mighty thunder rumbled and lightning lit up the distant sky as Jessica buckled her little boy Eric in his car seat. She yelled out to her husband, "You had better hurry, honey! It looks like it could start raining any second now!"

Scott was busy talking to his colleagues in front of the Long City Museum. It wasn't until Jessica had started up the car and honked the horn that he was finally able to get away from them. As he approached the car, Jessica was pretending to wait patiently in the passenger's seat as if nothing had happened. He laughed. "Now you know it's not nice to interrupt a professor in serious discussion."

Jessica answered as Scott got into the car, "I have no idea what you're talking about." When he sat down, she gave him a healthy kiss. "You were so good tonight," she said.

In the back, Eric said, "Hi Papa!" and he threw his stuffed bunny rabbit at his father's head.

Scott moaned in fake pain before he reached back to tickle his boy. Eric laughed and giggled until a lightning bolt struck near their car. Eric yelled out in fear and Jessica said, "I think we had better be going. This storm is getting closer."

"I guess you're right," said the father. "You know how much I hate to drive in the rain!"

He put the car in gear and started driving off. It was a nice car that they had, but it was the only one they owned. That was soon to change, though. The profession was finally starting to appreciate Scott's work and it was just then starting to pay off.

"I'm so proud of you," said Jessica. "You were the best one there."

"Yeah, but I wasn't the only one there. Just watch. A week from now, they will have forgotten the whole thing."

"Nonsense!" said Jessica. "If that were true, why would they have awarded you that grant?"

"There were five of us, honey, and I was the last to qualify. You see, we always come in last," said Scott.

"Oh," she insisted, "you're looking at it all wrong! There were hundreds of candidates, and they only chose five, and you were one of those five. You ought to be proud of yourself. You're not last. You're living Dr. King's dream. This is only the beginning. Besides, you did receive the loudest ovation."

"I guess they did save the best for last." He laughed again just as another loud thunderbolt struck near their car. Then almost immediately, the rain came down in torrents.

"Oh my," exclaimed Jessica.

 

Meanwhile, at a small community bank several miles down the road, a lone security guard was watching a comedy on TV at his post. With all the rain falling outside, it was difficult to hear, but he had seen that episode already. "No," he said to the TV. "Don't let him sit on the couch! Oh man, not again!"

As the rain got harder, the picture started to fade out until it was completely snowy. "Man! That stupid satellite dish!" said the guard. "Why does it always have to go out when it rains? Oh well, it's time to make the rounds anyways."

It wasn't like there was much bank to walk around. It was only a small bank, with a counter big enough for just two tellers to work. Behind the counter was a small armored room where all the money was kept. The president's office was the only other room with a door. And then there were only two doors that led to the outside. One was the main door most people came through. The other was a fire exit at the other end, which was required by law. The guard went around and checked all the doors. As suspected, they were all locked. Then he checked the windows. They were also locked.

He went back to his post to log his activities for the past several minutes. The TV was still out, much to his disappointment, and the rain was still coming down pretty hard outside.

A bolt of lightning struck just outside the building. It was so loud that the guard fell in fear to the floor. Immediately, he heard sparks outside and all the lights went out. "What in tarnation!" he said. "We've lost a transformer! Not again!"

It was pitch black in the bank except for the lightning flashes, and the guard's flashlight was at his post. "Where did I put that flashlight?" he said frustratingly. With each lightning flash, he was able to point himself in the right direction until he found the flashlight. "Okay," he said, "now I have to go turn on the darn emergency generator." This generator happened to be out back in a little shed behind the building.

Much to his surprise, the back door was already opened. "What? How could that door be open?" The door didn't have an electric locking mechanism, or at least he didn't think it had one. Why would any bank install a lock that would fail any time the electricity went out?

The guard looked around the bank, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He also stood still to see if he could hear anything, but he heard nothing beside the falling rain, and the rolling thunder. "That is so strange," he said.

He returned his attention to the door. "Now, that door didn't open on its own the last time the power went out. He shined his flashlight on the locking mechanism. There was no dead bolt, since they weren't allowed on fire exits. Also, there didn't seem to be any electronic components - it was all mechanical.

Then there was a loud sound and a bright flash, and the guard went unconscious.

 

* * *

 

"Momma!" yelled Eric from the back seat. "I dropped my bunny!"

"Alright!" answered Jessica. "You don't have to be so loud. I'll get it for you."

She reached back and tried to feel for it behind and under her seat with no luck. "Where is it?" she asked. "I can't find it!"

Eric said, "It's over there."

"Where?"

"There!"

Scott said, "For goodness sake! This really isn't the right kind of weather to be fussing about this! Can't you wait till we get home, Eric?"

"No," said Eric. "I need it now. I'm scared!"

Jessica suggested, "Scott, can you see if you can reach it?"

"I don't know if I can. It's hard enough to see where I'm going as it is."

"How can you see anything at all?" Jessica asked.

"I can see enough. I just need to concentrate right now. Can't you get this kid to shut up for once? Why don't you unbuckle and see if you can find it?" said Scott.

"In this little car?" Eric kept on fussing and crying. "Whatever!" said Jessica as she unbuckled and turned around in her seat. "I can't see it," she said. "Can you pull over?"

"What? In this weather? I don't want to get stuck in the mud!"

"Can you just pull over? Eric's crying is going to get us all killed!"

"What are you going to do?" asked Scott.

"I'm going to get in the back with him."

 

Meanwhile, at the now closer bank, two teenagers were trying to maneuver in the dark. "Come on, Kirk," said one. "Can't you hold that flashlight still?"

"I'm trying to. I think we should have waited for him to turn on the generator."

"You know the security system is attached to that, stupid. If that alarm went off, we'd have so many policemen on our tails in no time flat. We came tonight since we knew the thunderstorms always knock out the electricity at this bank."

"Then why didn't we bring our own flashlights, Karl? Why did I have to swipe it from him?" asked Kirk.

Karl answered, "I don't know. We just forgot, okay?"

"Whatever. Are you almost done with that?"

"If you'd just hold that flashlight still, I'd be done with it. We don't have much time before the guard comes to. I'm almost there." Karl was busy messing with some wires next to the door of the armored room.

Kirk looked around, trying to hold the flashlight still for Karl. It was pretty dark, and if anyone else were in the bank, they probably wouldn't know it until it was too late. But who would be in bank at this hour? Kirk noticed how wet his clothes were from being out in the rain. He said, "Are you cold in here?"

"What!?" said Karl. "If you're so cold, why don't you get the watchman's coat? No, wait. Let me finish this first. I don't want to have to wait for you to get warm. You know, now that I think of it, maybe it was a mistake to bring you along."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Karl answered, "Oh, nothing. Just hold it still one second longer, and let me attach this and ... okay, we've got fifteen seconds!"

Karl and Kirk leapt over the teller's desk and ducked where the guard was. Karl felt something wet and sticky on the floor. He said, "Let me see that flashlight."

Kirk handed it to him. "I told you we should have brought our own!"

"Just shut up!" yelled Karl. He shone the flashlight on the ground and saw red. "Oh yuck!" he exclaimed. "Blood? What did you do to the guard? Did you kill him?"

"I did what you told me to," answered Kirk. "I had to do it right, you know."

"I didn't tell you to kill him! Never mind, we have three ... two ... one ..." Then there was a loud explosion followed by a very loud alarm.

"What is that?" yelled Kirk.

"It's the alarm!" yelled Karl. "Shoot! There must have been a backup system! The police are coming!"

"What do we do?" asked Kirk.

"Let's grab as much as we can and run!"

 

On the side of the road, Scott had pulled over. Eric was still screaming and Jessica was already unbuckled. The rain was still falling along with all the lightning and thunder. Jessica opened her door and felt rain coming in. She said, "Oh my!" and shut the door again. "It's wet out there. It's going to ruin my dress."

"Well," suggested Scott, "why don't you use the umbrella?"

"It's raining pretty hard! I don't think the umbrella is going to work! How would I close it before I get back in the car? No, I'm going to have to crawl over our seat to get back there."

"This is crazy," said Scott. "Whatever it takes to make our boy happy, I guess."

As Jessica began her climb over the seat, Eric silenced himself as he became enthralled watching what his mother was doing. The car wasn't made big enough to allow easy access to the back of the car, but nevertheless, she squeezed herself head first. As she went over, Scott gave her a little pat on the bottom. "Scott!" she said. "Not in front of the kid!"

Scott answered, "I'm just helping. That's all."

Eric laughed at the whole scene. Jessica, now in the back seat, struggled to turn herself around. As she straightened out, Eric's car seat dug into her hip. "There's not much room back here," she said. "This car seat is just too big."

Scott answered, "Well, Eric's old enough to ride in the little car seat."

"Yeah, but he doesn't weigh enough. You know that."

"Of course I know what the car seat manufacturers say, but what do they know? All I know is that we wouldn't get a ticket for using the smaller car seat."

"But," insisted Jessica, "we need to make sure he's safe. You know what the doctor says. In weight and height he's at the ..."

"I know," interrupted Scott. "He's at the fifth percentile in weight and height. He gets that from my side of the family. But who cares? We all got along fine. And I'll let you know that I didn't sit in a fat car seat like that when I was a baby!"

"Oh, you're too much," she said. As she sat to the right of Eric, his car seat was leaning slightly to the left, and he was still laughing. Looking down, Jessica saw the bunny. "Oh, there it is," she said as she reached down for it. "Right there behind your seat, Scott. You could have reached it yourself." She handed the bunny to Eric, who then took it and gave it a big hug.

"What?" said Scott. "And miss out on all this fun? So are we ready to go before this weather gets any worse? If there's a tornado out here, I'd rather be home than in a car."

Jessica clicked her seatbelt and said, "Okay, we're ready."

Scott drove back on the road. "I do believe the rain has gotten harder", he said.

Eric smiled at his mother and patted her on the knee. "I love you, Momma," he said.

"And I love you," said Jessica. "You are our special kid." Eric giggled. "And you know what else?" she continued. "I've got some good news. Life is about to get a lot better for you. Papa just got a lot of money, and we're going to be rich."

"What's rich, Momma?"

"That's when you have a lot of money. Soon, we can move into a bigger house with a playground out back. You could have your own swing in your own back yard."

"I like to swing. Can we go swing?"

Jessica answered, "Maybe tomorrow. But you know what else Papa did today? He bought you a college savings fund, so when you grow older, you can go to college."

"What's college?" asked Eric. "Do they have swings there, too?"

"Some colleges have swings, I suppose," said Jessica.

Scott added, "College is where smart people go. That's where Papa works. And you're smart, so you should go to college."

Eric kicked his feet with joy and he said, "I'm smart! I'm going to college!"

Jessica said, "And there's one more thing. Can I tell him, Scott?"

"Go ahead," said the father. "Now is as good as any time to tell him."

"You're going to have a sister! In about six months we're going to have a girl!"

"Girls are yucky!" said Eric as he stuck out his tongue.

"Well," said Jessica, "I think you're going to like this girl, because she is going to be your sister, and you're going to get used to her."

"She can visit," said Eric and both parents laughed.

 

Kirk and Karl had grabbed as much money as they could carry and they headed for the door. "Wait a minute," said Karl. "I need to see if you've killed the guard." He shone the light on the guard. He was still breathing slightly, but there was a lot of blood on the ground around him. "Shoot! What did you do? Can't you do anything right? Boy did I make a mistake bringing you with me! If the guard lives, people will forget this happened. If he dies, it's murder, and they'll look for us until they find us! You stupid!"

"So," asked Kirk, "Should we try to save his life?"

"No, it's too late for that now! Let's go!" The alarm was still going off. In the distance, they could hear sirens. Also, they could hear some people talking outside.

"Wait a moment," said Kirk. "Have you ever seen anyone die?"

Karl exhaled desperately. "No! Have you?"

"No," answered Kirk. "Can I see the flashlight?"

"Are you crazy?! We've got to go!"

"Just let me see the flashlight! I may never get another chance like this!"

Karl answered, "You can't be serious! You actually want to watch this dude die?"

"Uh, yeah," answered Kirk. "Aren't you curious? Haven't you ever wanted to watch someone die? Don't you want to see the moment when the spirit leaves the body?"

"You're freaking me out! And we don't have time for this!" The sirens were getting louder. "We have to leave now!" And the lightning flashes revealed that there were at least two people standing outside. "Shoot! We need to put on our masks! And you did bring the gun, right?"

"Of course," said Kirk.

"Good! We're going to need it!"

They put on dark nylon stockings over their heads and went out the door. Kirk pointed his gun at the people outside and yelled, "Don't move!" It was a man and a woman. The woman screamed and they both dropped to the ground.

The sirens got even louder and red and blue flashing lights were coming from around the corner. Kirk and Karl quickly got into a parked red Mustang and Karl started it. Three cop cars pulled up near them.

Karl said, "This puppy can do 0 to 60 in 5 seconds flat! If we're lucky, they won't even have time to catch my license plate!" Kirk laughed as they drove off. Karl drove in between two of the cop cars and he honked his horn as he passed. Two of the cop cars did a quick three-point turn to follow in pursuit. But they weren't quick enough. Kirk and Karl were getting away, and the rain was not going to help one tiny bit.

 

"Can you believe the rain has gotten even harder?" asked Scott.

"Maybe we should pull over and wait for the rain to slow down a little," said Jessica.

"No, we're almost home. I can't stop yet."

"Men!" exclaimed Jessica.

Eric said, "Look Momma! Look at what my bunny can do!" He danced the bunny on the side of his car seat. "Doo doo doo!"

His mother said, "Oh, isn't that cute?"

They drove a little further until they could faintly hear some sirens. Jessica said, "Sounds like there's trouble. Maybe we better pull over now."

"No can do," said Scott. "We're on a bridge right now. There's nowhere to pull over. I bet there's a fire somewhere with all the lightning. Boy, I'd hate to always have to be working when the weather is so bad like this."

The sirens seemed to be getting closer. Looking in the rearview mirror, Scott noticed what looked like a car coming toward them very quickly. "What the ..." he exclaimed. He honked his horn to warn the incoming car, but it was too late. The car swerved left to miss the car, but not in time to avoid hitting them smack on the left taillight.

With an abrupt jar, the car bolted forward, and it started to spin. Scott had no idea which way they were going. "I can't see!" he yelled. "Where's the road?!"

Jessica screamed "No!"

Eric felt dizzy with a strange sensation in his stomach. He asked, "Are we flying, Momma?"

Rain was hitting the windshield stronger than ever. Then a large tree quickly came into view. With a loud sound, the front of the car crashed into the tree. The windshield broke into a million pieces and Scott screamed in pain. The car bounced off the tree and then hit the ground with another strong jar. The car was now still, and rain was pouring in.

Jessica asked Scott, "Are you okay?"

"I don't think so! I think I'm stuck! And I can't feel my legs!"

"No!" screamed Jessica. "This can't be happening!"

Eric asked, "What's going on Momma? And why is it so hot in here?"

Scott looked down at the dashboard. It was showing a hot engine. "That can't be right," he said. Without any further warning, the engine burst in flames, and fire came pouring through the dashboard. Scott screamed again in pain as he was surrounded with fire. "Jessica!" he yelled. "You need to get out of the car now!"

"No!" she yelled. "I can't leave you!"

"You must!" he answered back. "You must save our son!"

She unbuckled, finally realizing that she wouldn't be able to save her husband. She had to make the reluctant choice of leaving him behind. But it was too late anyway. The engine exploded and enveloped the whole car in flames.

 

Officer Charlie and Officer Reynolds of the Long City Police Department were in one of the two cars in pursuit of the red Mustang. When they got to the Johnston Bridge, Reynolds noticed an explosion by the creek off the side of the road. "Look at that!" he said to Charlie. They then noticed that the railing of the bridge had been severely deformed.

Officer Charlie stopped his car and talked into his police radio. "Daniels, It looks like we have a situation here. Keep in pursuit so the backup will know where to go."

"Roger," said the radio, and the other police car sped off.

Reynolds said, "It's a car! They've fallen off the bridge!"

"It can't be!" said Charlie. "Those hoodlums are probably responsible!" He picked up the radio again and spoke, "Dispatch. We have a car down off of the Johnston Bridge. It looks as if the robbers ran it off the road. It's on fire."

"We got you," answered Dispatch. "We'll send an ambulance."

"Could you hold a moment?" Charlie asked. Then he turned to his partner. "What do you think, Reynolds? Do we need an ambulance?"

Reynolds answered. "I don't think so. They've fallen quite a distance and I'm sure they'd be burned up by now. No one could have survived that explosion. What we're going to need is some team to help identify the bodies."

"I was thinking the same thing." Then Charlie said to Dispatch. "Negative on that ambulance. There are no survivors."

"We've got to send one anyways. It's regulation, you know."

"Whatever floats your boat," said Charlie. "Just trying to save the taxpayers a little more money. What we could use is that stupid backup! Where are they?"

"They're on their way."

Charlie got out of the car with Reynolds, not even caring that he was getting drenched by the rain, and not even worrying about being struck by lightning. He exclaimed, "Those dumb bank robbers are going to get away! I've seen it too many freaking times! And every time, someone gets hurt! Just once, can't we just catch the culprits and make them pay for their crimes? Just once?!"

Reynolds pointed down to the car. "Look! The rain is putting out the fire!"

"Great! That's just great! Now we won't need the freaking fire department!"

They both stood at the deformed railing, looking down at the car. "One unlucky fellow was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Charlie said out loud, partly to himself. "He wasn't doing anything wrong. He just happened to be right here. A minute earlier or a minute later, he would have been okay. But no, he had to be right here, and Bam! He's dead!"

Reynolds then said, "Hey Charlie, do you hear something?"

It was faint, but Charlie could indeed hear something. "Yeah. What is that?" He listened some more. "It sounds like a kid crying for his mother."

"That's what it sounds like to me. Where's it coming from?"

Charlie answered, "It can't be coming from that car! That's impossible!"

"Maybe someone's still alive!" said Reynolds. "Are you sure it's not coming from the car?"

Charlie listened some more. "Hey, I can't hear it anymore!"

"Me neither!" said Reynolds as he instinctively bolted down the bridge. Charlie followed. They ran to the end of the bridge and then down the embankment where the car was lying. The fire was out but the car still felt warm, even from a distance. The front of the car was entirely smashed in. "It must have hit that tree!"

They could see the remains of the driver. He was hardly recognizable. And there was someone in the back seat. Reynolds opened the back left-side door. "It was a family," he said. "A black family."

Charlie asked, "Well, do you see a kid in there?"

"Yeah, he's in a car seat. Look at this! His mother was shielding him."

"Is he alive?"

Reynolds answered, "He's unconscious, but I think he's breathing."

"No way! That's impossible! No one could have survived this crash! Well, we've got to get him out of there!"

Reynolds said, "I don't know Charlie. He's burned pretty badly. We better not expose him to the rain. We should wait till the ambulance gets here."

"Well, at least we should get his mother off of him so he can breathe better."

They gently pushed her charred body over to the other seat, and something fell to the floor. "Well I'll be," said Charlie. "It looks like the child wasn't the only one to survive." It was Eric's bunny. It was also severely burned, and its right ear had entirely fallen off.

Charlie said, "Hold here a moment. I need to radio Dispatch and have them tell that ambulance to hurry."

 

Abigail received the distressing phone call at 1:00 in the morning. They told her that her son and his wife had died in a car accident and that little Eric was badly burned and taken to the Long City Medical Center. She didn't waste any time getting over there.

She asked the nurse, "Where are they keeping little Eric?"

"He's in an isolation unit in intensive care. If you'll just wait a moment, the doctor is on his way this very moment."

Almost as if on cue, the doctor came quickly through a set of double swinging doors. "Hi, are you Abigail ?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Good will you come with me? I'll explain as we walk there. Tonight's a very busy night with all these weather related accidents." Abigail followed him back through the swinging doors. "I'll give you the good news first. Your grandson is very lucky to be alive. Frankly, no one can imagine how he could have possibly survived the car accident. The ambulance unit had never seen anything like this. For the moment, he is stabilizing. The bad news is that he is badly burned. He has second and third degree burns on 60% of his body, particularly on his left side. That means there is a lot of work for us to do, and there is plenty of room for complications. That means ... um ... well, how can I put this?"

Abigail answered, "Just tell me how it is. I can take anything you need to tell me. I figure I'm going to find out everything one way or the other, so you might as well tell me now and get it over with."

The doctor stopped walking and asked, "Well, does the boy have insurance?"

Abigail was a little bit at a loss. She didn't see that one coming. "I'm not sure," she answered. "They were about to receive a lot of money, and they were talking about getting insurance. They couldn't afford it before. The father said they were better off self-insuring since they were all healthy anyway."

The doctor almost interrupted, "But they never did take out a policy, did they?"

"No, I don't think so."

The doctor continued, "And do you have any insurance?"

"No," said Abigail. "I can't afford that at today's prices. But I promise you I can pay for this. I pay off all my debts."

"That's nice," said the doctor. About twenty feet away, an elevator opened up and people were coming off. The doctor said, "Oh, we need that elevator. Come quickly."

Once in the elevator, the doctor went on, "Okay, I need to tell you how it is. This procedure is going to be difficult, and it's going to be expensive. So expensive that you'll probably spend the rest of your life paying off this debt. We're not sure that the procedure is going to work. There's a good chance he may die. And even if it doesn't work, you still need to pay. And if the procedure works, he's going to be severely deformed. He could possibly lose the use of an arm or a leg, or even both. Some of his burns will never really heal properly. He's not going to live a normal life."

Abigail seemed a little upset. "Surely you're not suggesting letting him die! That is simply not an option!" The elevator opened and Abigail kept on following the doctor.

"I'm not suggesting anything," said the doctor frankly. "I'm just giving you all the facts. As his nearest living relative, it is you who has to authorize the procedure, and it will be you who will be responsible for the payments. Here we are. He's in this room."

The doctor led Abigail to a chamber, inside which Eric was sleeping. Half of his face looked as if it had been torn off. Tears welled up instantly in Abigail's eyes. "What did you do to his face?"

"We haven't done anything yet," answered the doctor. "So let me ask you again. Will you authorize the procedure?"

"Of course," she cried. "Save him, no matter what it takes! He needs to live!"

 

One week later, Eric had been moved to a private room. He was half covered in bandages, and he hardly moved or talked at all. When he was awake, he held on to his bunny and stared into space, sometimes asking for his Momma.

Abigail was alone in the room with him and the TV, which was recapping the morning news. She said to her grandson, "You poor little Eric. No three-year old should have to go through what you're going through. It's just not fitting! You should be playing with toys and running around, not cooped up in a bed like this. Thank Jesus, though, that you're alive. He wanted you to be alive. I know that. And thank Jesus that you're not going to lose your legs and arms. He's watching over you, yes he is."

Eric didn't answer. His grandmother continued on. "Well, guess what? You get to live with me, now. You know I don't have much to give you. I'm poor and all that, but your Papa made a lot of money right before he died, so we'll be able to take that money and move to a much nicer part of town. Now, you wouldn't want to live where I live now. It's a scary place. A lot of desperate people live in my neighborhood and they like to do bad things. But once we move, we're going to be safe. Isn't that great that you're going to be living with me?"

Eric attempted a smile, but evidently it was painful. The smile quickly went away.

Abigail went on. "Now, I'm going to have to leave you for a few hours today, because I'm going to see a lawyer down at the capitol to talk about your Papa's will. Do you know what a lawyer is?" Eric just stared. "Just don't get worried when I'm not around. You can take a nap."

Abigail stopped talking when the TV caught her ear. Someone had said, "bank robber."

"... and the police found the getaway car off the side of the road. Karl Davidson, the perpetrator, was found dead at the wheel of his red Mustang, which was seen driving away from the scene of the crime."

The newscast cut to a police officer. The caption under his face identified him as Officer Daniels. "It looks as if the perpetrator was hit by a bullet as he attempted to get away. Though he originally got away from us in the rain, it seems as if he was losing blood until he passed out and died here on the side of the road."

They showed a close-up of the red Mustang. Abigail could see the dent in the right headlight area that killed her son. She said under her breath, "May Jesus have mercy on your soul."

The police officer was still talking, "... we got all the money back. But it's just so sad that a teenager like this had to lose his life to crime. It just does not pay. Believe me, kids, when I say that. It just doesn't pay."

The news reporter continued, "Also at the scene of the crime were a couple of innocent bystanders."

An excited and upset woman spoke. "It all happened so fast. He came out and pointed a gun at us and told us to drop to the ground or we'd die! He was wearing some kind of mask, so I couldn't see who he was. With all the alarms and rain and stuff, it was just so scary."

"Yeah," said a man. "Next time I hear an alarm at a bank, I'm going to keep my distance. You never know when you'd be putting your life in danger. That guy came out so fast, and he was talking to himself. But when you see a gun pointing at you, you do what the guy says. We dropped. We heard the police cars arrive, and we heard him drive away. And we didn't get up until the policemen told us everything was okay."

The newscast cut back to a reporter. "However, all was not well inside the bank. A guard was found severely injured, and he lost a lot of blood, but he was found in time, and is now listed in stable condition at Long City Medical Center, and is expected to fully recover. At the request of his family, we are not allowed to release his name at this time."

Abigail said to herself, "And that's not all who got hurt. Don't you forget little Eric."

 

* * *

 

Later that morning, Abigail entered the Long City Capitol Building. The whole building was round with a golden dome on top. On the inside, in the middle was a giant open rotunda supported by fancy marble pillars. From the dome hung an intricate crystal chandelier. The floor displayed the city seal with the city motto, "Long live the people in peace and harmony." Three floors were visible and all the offices were located around the perimeter of the building. Abigail dressed as nice as she could, but she felt underdressed in such a fancy place.

A man in a three-piece suit wearing black-rimmed glasses approached her and asked, "Are you Abigail ?"

"Yes," she answered.

"I'm Kyle Masterson," the man continued. "I represent the city and I'll be administering the estate of Scott and Jessica . Will you follow me, please?"

Abigail followed the man into a conference room on the first floor. She said to herself, "Why are these lawyer types so stuffy?"

Mr. Masterson invited her to sit down and he sat down across from her at a small table. He was holding a large folder labeled ", S." He spoke to Abigail in almost a monotone emotionless voice. "I would first like to offer my condolences for the loss in your family. As you know, Scott had no siblings, so you are considered to be his closest living relative. That means that you are naturally entitled to the remainder of his estate, including the lawful stewardship of his son, Eric . If, however, you feel that you cannot provide proper stewardship for Master Eric, we can enlist him into a foster program, but then you would lose your entitlement to Mr. ' estate according to Long City law. In other words, wherever Master Eric goes, Mr. ' estate goes."

Abigail answered, "Of course I will take care of the boy."

Mr. Masterson looked at Abigail from above his glasses as if he were interrupted. "Of course you will. Now I will describe the estate that you will inherit in its entirety. You will receive all of Mr. ' personal property, which now resides mostly in his former apartment, and you will have two months to claim it and remove it from its premises, after which any remaining personal property will be disposed of as seen fit by the university. Some of his personal property resides at his former office at the university, and they will deliver those objects in a box to your residence within the next week.

"Also," Mr. Masterson continued, "you will receive a large lump sum payment today from all of Mr. ' liquidated assets. This includes his pension plan and 401k, which had special stipulations that Eric should receive a monthly payment in the event of Mr. ' death until Eric becomes 21 years old. Of course, we took the liberty of having those payments converted into an actuarial equivalent lump sum payment, because it's easier for us and for you to avoid the monthly administration fees that would arise from having to facilitate the monthly payments. I would seriously advise you not to spend this money all at once. I would suggest you put this into some kind of savings fund, and take out a little at a time. Let it earn interest and dividends, and you can receive the same as if we had given you monthly payments. I would also like to further commend your son in having the foresight to provide for your grandson in such a manner. Did you know that he even opened up a college fund just before he died?"

Abigail added, "Yeah, Scott was so smart about those kinds of things."

"I'm sure he was," said Mr. Masterson as he reached into the folder. He pulled out a check already filled out and smiled as he handed it to Abigail. "Here you go."

Abigail took the check and studied it briefly. She looked astonished. She said, "Five thousand dollars?"

"Yes," answered Mr. Masterson. "I told you it was a lot of money."

Abigail was momentarily speechless. Mr. Masterson pulled out a piece of paper from the folder, gave Abigail a pen and said, "All I need you to do is to sign this paper, and it's all yours."

She was still looking at the check in disbelief. She asked, "Is this all I get?"

"What do you mean - is that all you get? Isn't that a lot? You'll probably never see a check that large again in your life," answered Mr. Masterson.

Abigail wasn't satisfied. "But Scott had a lot more money in his pension and 401k. Where did it all go?"

"You received the portion that you are entitled to have. One reason the amount is less is because had we given monthly payments until Eric became 21 years old, the present value of those payments multiplied by a contingency factor representing Eric's probability of surviving that long would be a value which is slightly less than if we were to have given those payments for all of Eric's remaining life. On top of that, the city has taken out 40% in taxes as outlined in this disclosure statement."

"Wait a minute," said Abigail. "Scott filled out the paperwork to avoid paying those taxes. He even showed it to me. So, why are you taking out the 40%?"

"Yes," answered Mr. Masterson. "He did attempt to fill out that paperwork, but there was one important document that he forgot to sign, as you can see here." He handed a document to her and she saw no signature at the bottom. "Since he did not sign, we cannot grant his request. Thus we are bound by City Law to take out those taxes."

"I could have sworn that he signed this form," she said as she handed it back to the lawyer.

"Do you have any copies to prove it? Probably not. The funny thing about wills is that no one really thinks they are going to die. When they finally get around to worrying about dying, they'll start to fill out all the necessary paperwork. But most people will procrastinate, and many forget to sign important documents, and when they die, their estate ends up not going to the intended recipients."

"But didn't you know exactly what Scott wanted since he filled out the rest of the paperwork?" insisted Abigail.

"It's one thing to guess what he really wanted. But things like this must be black and white. If we were to not take out the taxes and someone sued the city because of it, we would lose because your son forgot to sign this form. We need to protect ourselves and not waste the taxpayer's money unnecessarily. Believe me when I say this is fair. It's difficult to explain, and evidently you don't like listening to this explanation, so try to see it from my point of view. I've administered thousands of wills, and I've seen everything. All I'm doing is preserving consistency and fairness. Would it be fair for me to take taxes from someone else's will and not take it out of Mr. ' will?"

Abigail knew she wasn't going to win this battle. She could hardly even understand everything Mr. Masterson was saying. She said, "I suppose there's nothing I can do about the pension stuff. But what about the college fund? I though Scott was going to put ten thousand dollars in there? Where did it go?"

"He did put ten thousand dollars in the fund, but you can't touch it until Eric turns 18 or goes to college, whichever comes first, and no one else can touch it either."

Abigail asked, "And how will I be receiving the money from his grant?"

Mr. Masterson asked, "I'm sorry. What grant is that?"

Abigail answered, "The prize grant that Scott received for his work. Doesn't it say something about it in that folder?"

He looked through the folder and said, "Oh here it is. The grant. Actually, you won't be receiving anything. Since Mr. died, he is unable to continue his work. Thus they are unwilling to pay the grant."

"They didn't tell me that!" said Abigail.

"That's just the way it is," answered Mr. Masterson.

"Well, this five thousand dollars isn't going to help me and Eric at all. We can't buy a house with this! Can we move into Scott's apartment?"

"I'm sorry. That is university property. They will only board employees of the university, so that option is not open to you."

"That's just not fair!" said Abigail. "I can't support Eric without any help from his father's estate!"

Mr. Masterson answered, "Then I suggest you not sign this form of receipt. If you cannot support Eric, I think he would be better off in foster care."

"This just doesn't add up," said Abigail. "I have the right to a lawyer, don't I? I'm going to fight for what should be Eric's."

"Of course you have the right to a lawyer, but how are you going to pay for one?" he asked.

"I've got five thousand dollars right here in my hand."

Mr. Masterson answered, "But once you sign this form of receipt, you'll notice here in the fine print that you lose all rights to sue."

"Then I won't sign until after I win my law suit."

"You'll also notice here in the fine print that you can't take that five thousand dollars with you if you don't sign," he said as he took the check out of her hand.

Abigail considered her options briefly before continuing. "Well, then I'll go to the press and expose all this."

Mr. Masterson laughed. "Expose what? Everything here is legal and fair. Besides, who would listen to you? Have you been watching the news lately? They've been talking about the bank robbery. You know that they've caught the guy, right? Do you know what they're saying about Mr. ' car accident and their family tragedy?"

Abigail answered, "I haven't heard anything personally, but I heard they said something the day after the accident. I missed it though."

"That's right. They're saying nothing. And do you know why? For one reason, the car accident was incidental to the real story. There was a bank robbery. They caught the guy. They returned the money, and everyone is happy! As far as everyone is concerned, it's all over. Secondly, no one is going to care about a poor black family and their mishaps. Do you know they all look alike? And bad things happen to them all the time. No one's going to care about one more black-related car accident. Thirdly, no one wants to see anything about a deformed three-year old. Do you know what people do when a newscast shows a child like that? They get disgusted and they turn the channel. The news people know how to make high ratings, and believe me when I say that they're just going to laugh at you, and they're going to show you the door."

Abigail couldn't believe what she was hearing. She sat dumbfounded, fighting back tears. Realizing she couldn't do anything, she said, "Give me that stupid receipt form!"

Mr. Masterson handed it to her. As she signed it, he said, "You're doing the right thing. I hope you realize that I got you as much as I could."

Abigail handed the receipt back to him as she said, "I hope you realize that Jesus would not be happy with you."

He laughed and retorted, "That's fine with me. I don't believe in him."

She answered, "I didn't think so."

 

Needless to say, Abigail and Eric were unable to move away from the apartment. Also, the budget became very tight, especially with the high monthly hospital bills. As soon as Eric was well enough to leave the hospital, he started living with his grandmother. The apartment was small with a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. The walls were thin, so it was easy to hear some of the louder noises in the neighboring rooms.

Abigail decided to give up her bedroom to Eric as she slept on the couch. At first, Eric mostly slept and didn't do much else. Then little by little, he became more active. After all, kids are kids, and eventually they always find some way to return to normality. However, there was nothing normal about Eric. He was shorter than other kids his age. And the left side of his face looked a bit caved in as if someone had punched him hard.

Six months after the accident, Eric was playing in the apartment complex's sandbox. One thing he learned was how to play well by himself. He was building a large sandcastle, which design was intricate for a three-and-a-half-year old boy.

Meanwhile, three five-year old boys of the neighborhood were walking near the sandbox when one of them said, "Look! It's Scarface!" Another boy said, "Oh, he's so stupid! What's he doing?"

Eric heard them and cringed. There was no avoiding what was about to happen.

"Look!" said one of the boys. "He's playing house in the babybox!" Another said, "That sandcastle is so stupid!"

"It is not!" yelled Eric. "I bet you can't build one!"

"Well, I know how to break one!" said the tallest of the boys. "Look! I'm a tornado!" He spun around as he kicked and destroyed the sandcastle. In the process, he also knocked Eric over.

"Hey!" yelled Eric. "That was my sand castle! I was here first! Why did you do that?"

A boy answered, "Oh the baby's crying! Who cares about your stupid sand castle?" The tall bully said, "And who cares about you?" The third boy said, "Yeah, you'll never amount to anything!" They knocked Eric over again as they ran off laughing.

After collecting himself, Eric said out loud, "They don't know anything. One day I'll be somebody. I'll show them!"