The Swamp Thing

Reversal of Fortune

by Doc Quantum of the Time Trust

Prologue

Terrebonne Parish General Hospital, Houma, Louisiana…

Abby Cable sat by the side of the body of her husband. She had ceased by now to believe he still existed somewhere in that weakened body. Matt Cable had gone into a coma more than two years ago now, when the evil Anton Arcane, her own uncle, had possessed his body and tried to kill her and destroy Alec.

Matt had been a good man when they were married, but things began to change in the last year of their marriage. He had been sent on assignment from the government agency he worked for — the DDI — to South Dakota in order to meet a special courier there, or so he was told. The “assignment,” however, had actually been a trap. Dwight Wicker, head of the DDI, wanted everyone who ever knew or heard of Alec Holland neutralized, and they hired Sunderland Corp to do that for them. If killing the party in question would prove too risky, they would settle for the next best thing — inducing amnesia through electroshock. Upon Matt’s arrival in South Dakota he was captured and put into a straitjacket, and then he was subjected to relatively large quantities of electricity at a special clinic set up for this purpose.

This crude attempt at brainwashing was mostly unsuccessful in removing Matt’s memories of Alec Holland and the Swamp Thing he had become, but it had effectively reduced him to such a state that he was unable to continue in his career any longer. He was brought back home to settle back into the family life with Abby, but he had changed. They had taken away his dignity and almost everything else he had once prized in himself. Gone was the brilliant investigator he had been trained to become; gone was the Lieutenant Matthew Cable of yesteryear.

Matt and Abby soon found that the DDI had surveillance teams watching them everywhere they went, so they effectively dropped out of the life they had built together, left their home and moved from city to city, each time hoping to start new lives. It was then that Matt started drinking. Everything he had lived for, except his beautiful Abby, had been taken from him, and he attempted to drown his sorrows in booze. He ended up having to take a succession of menial, poor-paying jobs, each one worse than the next, just to survive; and he was successively fired from each and every one of them due to his drinking habit. Matt was at a low point in his life. He was no longer an agent. He could no longer be a providing husband. He no longer even believed himself to be a real man at all anymore. They had taken it all away from him. At the time, Abby believed this to be their lowest point ever and hoped that things could only get better from here on in. Life would prove her wrong.

She and Matt were reunited with the Swamp Thing once again after more than three years since they had last seen him, a time not long before they had been married. Alec Holland, the Swamp Thing, was having some troubles of his own from Sunderland and the DDI. It was soon discovered, moreover, that the electroshock “therapy” Matt had received from DDI and Sunderland had an unexpected adverse effect. It had caused his deepest fears and raw emotions to manifest themselves in the form of “monsters from the id” via some kind of telekinetic ability, and it wasn’t until this was discovered that Matt was able to stop drinking and stop these manifestations from happening.

The craziness of those days continued without respite, however, as the Sunderland Corporation and the DDI then firebombed the Cables’ house and “killed” the Swamp Thing in order to dissect him. The Swamp Thing proved much harder to kill than believed, however, and he survived only to discover that he was likely not Alec Holland at all, but a plant version of a “planarian worm” — a creature which takes on the characteristics of that which it eats. The very idea was horrifying to all of them, Alec most of all, but they were his friends and stayed there in Houma to be there for him, setting up house in a hotel there.

Then things got even worse.

Matt started to get… weird. When Abby took a position at a school for autistic children in Houma shortly after she and her husband arrived there, Matt began to behave irrationally, jealously, and not like himself at all. He would erupt into sudden, lustful rages which startled her at first, but soon began to get her Transylvanian blood boiling, causing her to stalk off in anger. She found herself spending less and less time with him and more time with Alec. Finally he began drinking once more, and one night he drove their car straight into a tree while completely drunk. She knew nothing of this at the time, however.

The next day she saw a new Matthew Cable, one pleasing to her eyes, although something seemed a bit off, somehow. Matt had got a well-paying new job and had put a downpayment on a huge house in the country. Everything seemed perfect. At least on the surface.

The truth came out all too soon, however. Matt had been possessed by the spirit of Arcane, who, although dead, still survived on the spiritual plane. He had been slowly taking Matt over for weeks until the car crash, when her husband surrendered completely, no longer able to fight Arcane’s control. Arcane used his possession of Matt’s body and her husband’s powers to make his dreams and nightmares a reality for his own benefit. And he killed her, flinging her soul into Hell itself. The Swamp Thing saved her and brought her back, of course, after defeating Arcane for the final time, but Matt himself was gone. He was not dead, obviously, but was reduced to the state she now saw before her. Coma.

Abby stood up and pulled her jacket closer to her. The nurses had told her that patients sometimes responded if they were talked to, but she still could not bring herself to say anything. What could she say? She had taken the Swamp Thing as a lover while he was wasting away here in the hospital? She had hoped that her time on Grimoire Island would be therapeutic for her, but the very opposite was true; it reminded her too much of her brief time in the infernal realm, strangely enough, even though she could barely recall any of her time there. She did miss Rose and the kids, though.

She walked away from the bed and towards the door to leave, but something stopped her. She looked back at Matt; he was still unconscious; the harsh throaty breathing still came from his mouth. She came closer to him and finally gave him a kiss on his thin cheek. “Goodbye, Matt.”

And as she walked out into the hospital corridor, she could have sworn she heard someone breathe her name…

“…Aaaaaaaa-byyyyyyy…”

***

The Brazilian rainforest…

The Parliament of Trees is not like any other governmental institution on Earth, and its name is something of a misnomer. In truth, the “Parliament” consists of a group of ancient erl-kings, plant elementals and elder trees which have gathered together and rooted themselves into the ground after their short, early years of wandering. Many of them are hundreds of years old, and a few of the elders are thousands of years old. They have spent most of that time here, near the source of the river Tefé in Brazil, guarded by a tribe of jungle-dwelling natives, who hold the Parliament as utterly sacred.

Their “government” over those in their dominion is not often seen, since trees and plants have rarely needed leadership, and they prefer not to do things as the meat-creatures do, who hurry about and die before they have had a chance to live. They are erl-kings, and they operate under different rules than humankind.

The Parliament has rarely held what one might term “meetings,” and has only held a small handful of those in the last few hundred years, which is what makes it so remarkable that they are now holding their third meeting in two years. Some of the older erl-kings — those who have no use for an audible voice any longer — complain about this, citing the influence of all the youthful trees, those under the age of five-hundred, who have not quite shrugged off their former lives as men just yet and speak audibly sometimes as well as still hurrying a bit too much for the older ones’ liking.

Nevertheless, the newest erl-king in their line played a crucial role in recent events, and although he had been missing from the earth for a short time now, he was still being discussed — not in audible, physical voices, but in the communion of thoughts, which is the preferred method of communication among the erl-kings. Today, however, would prove to be a monumental day in every way.

“The young one… is returning,” said Alex Olsen, once called the Swamp Thing himself. He had joined the Parliament over seventy years ago after his time of wandering. “He has… found his way… home… at last…”

“Finally, an end to this episode,” said an elder slowly through the communion of the minds. “It has been too long since we have been able to rest… There. It is done. We are ourselves again.”

Chapter One

An undisclosed location in the swampland of Louisiana…

The old barn still barely stands after several years, despite its poor shape. In December of 1979, this building was occupied by a loving couple, the Hollands. Alec and his wife Linda. Doctors Alec and Linda Holland were scientists working on a “bio-restorative” formula for the government which would theoretically enable plant life to thrive almost anywhere, in any circumstances. It would have been ideal for growing vegetables in the desert, high mountain climates, or the frozen north, and might have been the solution to the world’s hunger problem. At least this happy couple believed it to be so, and they dedicated themselves to searching for this secret. They were idealists. They were also considered dangerous to certain parties, however, and Lieutenant Matt Cable was sent to guard them.

Then a criminal organization called the Conclave came into the picture. They made a monetary offer to the Hollands in exchange for leaving the employ of the government and bringing all their research into their hands. The Hollands refused, much to the Conclave’s displeasure, and they threatened the Hollands’ lives. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Cable was absent when the Conclave brought the full measure of their threat to bear. They set off an explosion in the barn where the Hollands lived, causing Alec’s body to become saturated with the experimental bio-restorative formula, and now engulfed in flame he ran into the swamp below just before he died. What happened next was a miracle…

The combination of the bio-restorative formula and the surrounding swamplife combined to give Alec Holland a semblance of life over the next few days. Finally, in the early days of January, 1980, a creature who was not quite human nor quite plant life arose from the mucky waters of the swamp, only to learn that his wife Linda had been murdered as well. He was soon called “The Swamp Thing,” and he took his revenge on those who were responsible for his wife’s death and his own transformation. Lieutenant Matt Cable believed the Swamp Thing to be responsible for the Hollands’ deaths, not knowing that it was actually Dr. Alec Holland himself, and pursued the monster wherever it went. As the Swamp Thing, Holland soon came face-to-face with the evil wizard known as Arcane in the Balkan Mountains of Bulgaria, and he and Cable soon met and saved Abigail Arcane, the small Bulgarian village’s only medic, after her evil uncle Anton Arcane’s apparent death. Matt Cable and Abby, along with an African-American man named Jefferson Bolt who was picked up along the way, later came to learn the truth behind the Swamp Thing’s creation and became his friends and allies in his search to become human once more.

That search apparently ended when the Swamp Thing was reunited with his brother, Edward Holland, in the town of Quinn, Oregon. Together with his and Ruth Monroe’s help, Edward gave Alec an antidote to the bio-restorative formula which had changed him into the Swamp Thing, and Dr. Alec Holland was human once more. It was not to last, however, since the antidote proved to be only temporary, and Holland later changed back into the Swamp Thing while assisting the world-famous team of adventurers, the Challengers of the Unknown. This team befriended Holland and offered him a permanent home, but after a while his wanderlust took over once again, and he left, convinced that he would be trapped in his misshapen body for the rest of his life.

Sometime later, the Swamp Thing discovered that the Sunderland Corporation was after him, in search of the secret of the bio-restorative formula which changed him into the monster he now was. He fled from them, confronting them when necessary, and along the way he picked up some new allies: Lizabeth Tremayne, a former television journalist employed by a broadcasting company owned by the Sunderland Corporation and the author of Swamp-Man: Fact or Myth?; and Doctor Dennis Barclay, M.D., a former Sunderland Corp employee who had begun to suspect the corporation of covert criminal activities. After a series of dangerous adventures while escaping the clutches of the Sunderland Corporation (along the way once again meeting Matt Cable and Abby Arcane, who he learned had gotten married since he last saw them), the Swamp Thing was apparently killed, his corpse captured by the Sunderland Corporation.

General Avery H. Sunderland, head of the Sunderland Corporation, freed Dr. Jason Woodrue (originally a master criminal known only as Woodrue from an otherdimensional world inhabited by wood nymphs, dryads, Nereids, air sprites, and flower spirits who was banished to Earth, where he fought the Atom and other super-heroes repeatedly, using his scientific knowledge of plants to take control of them, until he himself was finally transformed into the plant-master known as the Floronic Man) from prison and hired him to discover the truth behind the Swamp Thing’s origin. They had Dr. Linda Holland’s exhumed corpse in their possession, and they could not understand why the bio-restorative fluid which she had been exposed to as well as her husband had not transformed her as it did him. After six weeks of research on the frozen body of the Swamp Thing, Woodrue came upon a most revolutionary theory, presenting it to General Sunderland:

“You see, a while ago, some people did an experiment. They taught a planarian worm to run a simple maze. They educated it. Then they chopped it up and fed its remains to a batch of planarian worms that couldn’t run the maze… except that after digesting their educated comrade, the worms could run the maze perfectly!” He went on to explain that, just as in example of the planarian worms, when Dr. Holland’s bio-restorative formula-saturated body fell into the swamp, the plants which were altered by the bio-restorative formula quickly ingested the mortal remains of Alec Holland and became infected by a powerful consciousness that did not realize it was no longer alive. They and the creature had believed all this time that it was Alec Holland, somehow transformed into a plant. The truth, however, seemed to indicate that the Swamp Thing was really a plant that only thought it was Alec Holland.

General Sunderland interrupted Woodrue before he could finish explaining and promptly fired him now that he no longer needed him any longer, and he took the research papers Woodrue had written up and read them for himself. Unfortunately for Sunderland, he failed to understand that a plant could not be killed by several bullets to the head. The Swamp Thing was thawed out as part of Woodrue’s revenge, and he soon regenerated himself. Now, normally the Swamp Thing was not known to ever have intentionally harmed anyone before, but when he read for himself Woodrue’s report on Sunderland’s desk upon his escape and fully realized the implications — that he was not human! — the Swamp Thing killed General Sunderland in a fury of rage and confusion.

Over the next few months the Swamp Thing came to accept that he was not human and had never been human, along with the help of Abby Cable, who became his lover after Matt Cable was first taken over by Arcane and then put into a coma. It was then that the Englishman, John Constantine, stepped into his life. Constantine, who would be best described as sort of a paranormal investigator, warned the Swamp Thing about an impending catastrophe, and he began to open up new worlds of possibilities for the Swamp Thing in regards to his inherent abilities. Constantine led the Swamp Thing on a series of adventures, continually promising him additional information while building up the creature’s own strengths for this impending catastrophe which was soon to hit the world. Along the way Constantine introduced him to the Parliament of Trees, the community of plant elementals who had walked the world in the ages before the Swamp Thing’s birth. Shortly after this, the Swamp Thing and Constantine battled a group called the Brujería in the region of Patagonia, South America. The Brujería were a sect of male witches who existed for the purpose of hurting people, and they sought to take advantage of the effects of the Crisis on Infinite Earths and its impact on the supernatural planes to take control of the Earth by returning it to “the original Darkness.” By the time Swamp Thing and Constantine had stopped them, however, their plan had already been set into motion.

All that was left now was to face it.

While John Constantine gathered a group of magicians and mystics at the home of Baron Winters in Georgetown, the Swamp Thing and the Phantom Stranger, who had also been expecting this catastrophe to befall the world after the Crisis was over, gathered a group of powerful allies to battle the original darkness, the primordial shadow which slept in the chaos beyond Hell itself, directly. The ultimate darkness was expected to advance across the afterworld to heaven itself. This was no mere story about good versus evil. The stakes were higher than they had ever been before. Whichever side mets its final destruction, whether it be the ultimate dark or ultimate light, this day everything would be changed…

The Swamp Thing and his allies, an army composed of both angels and demons, were lined up against a large army of demons who sought to ally themselves with the original darkness. Finally, the unimaginably HUGE darkness began to rise into the air out of the churning sea of chaos as both sides watched in awe. Once it stopped its advance the two armies fought each other for a while, with casualties on both sides, until the Demon Etrigan faced the Darkness head on and only succeeded in getting himself absorbed by it. It spoke to him:

“LITTLE THING? LITTLE THING, YOU ARE IN ME… AND I HAVE A VERY GREAT NEED. BEFORE LIGHT, I WAS; ENDLESS, WITHOUT NAME OR NEED OF NAME. THEN LIGHT CAME. WITNESSING ITS OTHERNESS, I SUFFERED MY FIRST KNOWLEDGE OF SELF, AND ALL CONTENTMENT FLED.

“TELL ME, LITTLE THING. TELL ME WHAT I AM.”

“Your name…” said Etrigan, “…your name is Evil; absence of God’s light, his shadow-partner, locked in endless fight.”

“THE FIGHT IS TO BE ENDLESS, THEN. AHH.

“AHH.

“LITTLE THING, YOU HAVE TAUGHT ME FATALISM. YOU HAVE TAUGHT ME INEVITABILITY. THEY ARE NOT THE THINGS I NEEDED… YOU ARE NOT THE THING I NEEDED.”

And the Demon Etrigan was spat out of the Darkness.

Next, Earth-Two’s Doctor Fate was absorbed into the Darkness while battling the demons Abnegazar, Rath and Ghast. The Darkness spoke to him as well:

“LITTLE THING… LITTLE THING, YOU ARE IN ME, AND I HAVE A GREAT NEED… IN THIS STRANGE PLACE OF LIGHT AND ORDER AND NAMES, I HAVE BEEN NAMED EVIL. YET NAMING IS NOT ENOUGH. I MUST KNOW MY NATURE, I MUST KNOW MY PURPOSE. TELL ME, LITTLE THING, WHAT IS EVIL?”

“Evil?” said Doctor Fate, thinking rapidly. “Evil is a quagmire of ignorance that would drag us back as we climb towards the immortal light. A vile, wretched thing, to be scraped from the sandals like dromedary soil.”

“AM I SO LOW, THEN, AND IS HE YOU SERVE SO HIGH THAT THERE CAN BE NO POSSIBILITY OF RESPECT BETWEEN US? LITTLE THING, YOU HAVE TAUGHT ME CONTEMPT. IT IS NOT THE ANSWER THAT WAS REQUIRED.”

And Doctor Fate was spat out of the Darkness.

Next, the powerful and avenging archangel of God himself, the Spectre, arrived and sought to best the darkness. He grew himself taller than a skyscraper and beyond, his head reaching into the clouds above. He became taller than Earth’s tallest mountain and was yet still smaller than the Darkness. After a momentary battle with the primordial shadow he, too, was finally absorbed into the Darkness. It spoke to him as well:

“LITTLE THING… MY HUNGER FOR UNDERSTANDING GROWS LARGER AS MY PATIENCE DWINDLES. SHALL MY QUESTION BE ANSWERED, OR SHALL I SNUFF OUT THE LIGHT AND BE DONE WITH THE ANGUISH ITS PRESENCE CAUSES ME?”

“NO! I forbid you, by the Voice that speaks in all things…” shouted the Spectre as he continued to try and fight the thing from within.

“IT DOES NOT SPEAK IN ME. IN ME, THERE IS ONLY THE HATEFUL NAGGING OF INSOLUBLE QUERY. TELL ME, LITTLE THING: WHAT IS EVIL FOR?”

The Spectre answered him defiantly: “Evil exists only to be avenged, so that others may see what ruin comes of opposing that great Voice and cleave more wholly to its will, fearing its retribution!”

“AND WHAT OF THE TORTURED EONS I ENDURED, UNABLE TO BROACH THIS MADDENING BRILLIANCE AND QUIET THE PAIN IT WORK IN ME? DO THEY NOT DEMAND RETRIBUTION? LITTLE THING, YOU HAVE TAUGHT ME ONLY VENGEANCE… BE GONE, THAT I MIGHT SAVOR IT IN SOLITUDE.”

And the Spectre was spat out of the Darkness. He had been humbled as never before.

The Swamp Thing stood and looked at the fallen form of the once-mighty Spectre and considered things. And then the Swamp Thing simply walked into the Darkness, allowing himself to be absorbed. The Darkness spoke to him:

“LITTLE THING… LITTLE THING, YOU CAME TO ME WILLINGLY. AND WITHOUT WRATH. IN THIS EXTRAORDINARY PLACE, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY. WHAT HAVE YOU TO OFFER ME?”

“I… have nothing,” the Swamp Thing said. “I came… in resignation… Whatever you are… I cannot fight you… but I cannot… stand and watch…”

“THEN WILL YOU ANSWER MY QUESTION? LITTLE THING, WILL YOU TELL ME THE PURPOSE OF EVIL?”

The Swamp Thing answered him slowly, “I… cannot. I am not… the one you seek… I have tried… to make sense of that darkness… and I have failed.

“I have seen evil… its cruelty… the randomness with which it ravages… innocent… and guilty alike… I have not understood it… I asked… the Parliament of Trees… whose knowledge is older… greater than mine… They seemed to insist… that there was no evil… but I… have seen evil… and their answer… was incomprehensible… to me… and yet…

“And yet… they spoke of aphids eating leaves… bugs eating aphids… themselves finally devoured by the soil… feeding the foliage. They asked… where evil dwelled… within this cycle… and told me… to look… to the soil… The black soil… is rich in foul decay… Yet glorious life… springs from it… But however dazzling… the flourishes of life… in the end… all decays… to the same black humus…

“Perhaps… perhaps evil… is the humus… formed by virtue’s decay… and perhaps… perhaps it is from… that dark, sinister loam… that virtue grows strongest? I… do not know. I do not know… what they meant…”

“I SEE.

“LITTLE THING… LITTLE THING, I SENSE A GREAT AND FINAL END APPROACHING. I WOULD BE ALONE. LEAVE FREELY, AS YOU CAME.”

The Swamp Thing walked out of the Darkness unharmed.

Both of the assembled armies then waited in fear and despair for the inevitable to happen. The Spectre wept. The Darkness rose, and rose, and rose, and as it rose everyone could see that this tip of the darkness was merely the tip of a finger, which was on a massively large hand. This hand rose to meet its counterpart, a great hand of light which came from Heaven.

They reached towards each other.

Reaching.

Reaching.

Reaching.

The hands clasped, and…

The Swamp Thing awoke sometime later in confusion, and he asked the Phantom Stranger what had happened.

“Happened? Nothing has happened,” the Stranger said. “Everything has happened. Can’t you feel it? Everywhere things look the same, but the feeling… the feeling is different.”

“Yeah,” said Deadman, who was among the allies, “you’re right. Everything’s sharper, more distinct, like the air after a storm…”

“A storm that had been brewing since the universe was formed,” added the Phantom Stranger. “Perhaps the atmosphere had grown more charged and oppressive than we realized.”

“But the nature of good… the nature of evil… they have not changed?” questioned the Swamp Thing.

“Perhaps not… but I suspect a different light has been cast upon their relationship. In the heart of darkness, a flower blossoms, enriching the shadows with its promise of hope… In the fields of light, an adder coils, and the radiant tranquility is lent savor by its sinister presence. Right and wrong, black and white, good and evil… All my existence I have looked from one to the other, fully embracing neither one… Never before have I understood how much they depend upon each other.”

The Swamp Thing returned to Louisiana, hoping to have some rest with his love, Abby. What he found when he returned to the mortal realm was something he hadn’t expected. Abby had been arrested on the charge of “crime against nature” due to her relationship with him, and when she jumped bail and fled to Gotham City, she was arrested there and kept for an extradition hearing. Against the advice the Parliament of Trees had earlier given him, he followed his human emotions and left for Gotham City with anger in his heart. This would prove to be his undoing.

The Swamp Thing arrived in Gotham and demanded his “wife,” then exercised his powers as a wood elemental and overran Gotham City with vegetation, clogging up all roads in and out of the city with plants and trees and effectively shutting down the city. The Batman arrived and attempted to subdue him but was unaware of his new powers since last they had met. The Swamp Thing humbled him and gave the city another ultimatum. Meanwhile, the citizens were split in their opinions of the matter. A fairly large percentage were sympathetic to the Swamp Thing, and a religious cult even sprang up, nicknamed “the Swampies.” The Swamp Thing’s final show of power in Gotham City occurred when he grew a huge body out of the redwoods in Gotham Park, which was as tall as a skyscraper, and once again demanded his wife. The Batman convinced the Mayor, who convinced Washington, to drop all of Abby’s charges and let them both leave freely, without any fear of retaliation, although he warned him that if he ever did anything like this to his city again he would kill him.

Little structural damage had actually been caused, and upon this agreement being reached the Swamp Thing began to allow the overgrown vegetation to rapidly putrefy. All that was left was for him to meet Abigail Cable on the steps outside Gotham’s Court Building and leave peacefully. Dwight Wicker of the DDI had other plans, however, which had earlier been conceived and drawn up by Lex Luthor during a ten-minute consultation.

As the Swamp Thing ran to embrace Abigail Cable, the DDI hit him with an electromagnetic scrambler which would disrupt his nerve control, as well as keep him from fleeing that particular body and going back into the vegetation; he instinctively pushed Abby away from him for her own protection. They then hit him with several volleys of weapons-grade napalm. As he collapsed in flames and burned up, he thought of the moment he had died the first time, and he remembered the warning of the Parliament of Trees: “Power? Power is not the thing. To be calm within oneself, that is the way of the Wood. Power tempts anger… and anger is like wildfire.” The Swamp Thing was, by all accounts, dead.

The truth was that the electromagnetic scrambler had changed his bio-electric pattern, making him incompatible with his own world. Since this prevented him from seeking any safe refuge anywhere else on earth, he had fled into space. He had jumped blind into the void and grasped onto the nearest safe haven. His “essence” ended up rooting itself on a distant planet, the nearest with vegetation of sorts. The next few months were a blur. While he was believed dead on Earth, the Swamp Thing almost went mad on a planet with sparse blue vegetation. As he “jumped” from that planet in search of a planet better suited for vegetation, he ended up colliding with a transportation beam upon which an Earth-man named Adam Strange rode to his adoptive planet of Rann, and ended up being pulled there himself. Finding Strange’s backpack and realizing it was from Earth, he went into the heart of Ranagar to find him. Adam Strange thought he was a dangerous monster at first and shot him with his weapon, but he later showed him that he was from Earth as well. They parted as friends, and Strange promised to relay a message from him to Abby.

After the Swamp Thing left Rann, he landed on J586, a planet populated by intelligent, humanoid plants, which was also the home planet of the member of the Green Lantern Corps known as Medphyll. He inadvertently wreaked havoc with his plant elemental powers here when he grew a body out of not only the plants on the ground and the houses, but also the humanoid plants themselves, fusing many citizens together. Medphyll was able to find a solution by placing the Swamp Thing’s essence into a citizen who had recently died, then carefully extracted the humanoids from the huge plant-body the Swamp Thing had grown. Medphyll also taught him how to control the changes in his bio-electric pattern which had been preventing him from returning to Earth. On this planet of walking plants the Swamp Thing finally felt as if he were at home among his own kind. He regretted that it was necessary to depart that place.

The Swamp Thing then came to life on the living computer ship of Brainiac, who had seen his electromagnetic essence and brought him there, where he saved Brainiac and his ship from the pursuing Darkseid of Apokolips. Brainiac assisted him by sending him on his next journey, which would bring him home. He was sent to the so-called Promethean Galaxy in the realm of the New Gods, where a massive “Mother Box” had been calling to him. He met the New God known as Metron there, and the two entered the very Source itself, where in one instant the Swamp Thing saw everyone and everything that was, had ever been or ever will be, all in one instant. It was necessary for the Mother Box to erase his memories of this experience just in order for him to keep his sanity before the Source sent him home.

Home. Was this dark, dank, muddy place really home? His entire life as the Swamp Thing had flashed before his eyes up until this moment, but he still could not figure out how he had gotten where he now was or why he could not see or move.

Where… where am I…?

Chapter Two

“Hey! Abby!” shouted Chester Williams as he walked down the windy Houma street towards the hospital in his hippie-style suede jacket. “I finally connected with you! Liz told me you were here. I figured I’d come over.” He paused for a moment as she attempted a smile. “How’s things with your, uh, your ex-husband?”

“Oh,” said Abby as she walked with him away from hospital entrance, “well, he told me about the movies he’d seen, and we discussed politics, and he said he liked my outfit…”

“Really?”

“No.” Abby was silent for a long moment. “Look, I’m sorry. Since Alec died, coming here to see Matt, I just feel empty, like I don’t have enough to mourn both of them. Do you mind if we skip the eco-business tonight? I was thinking of driving out to the swamps.”

“You want to be alone?” asked Chester.

“Alone? Chester, for the last few months I’ve been stuck on an island where I had no chance of fitting in, where the kids are being trained to combat god-knows-what, and where I had only one friend, who happened to be in her mid-eighties but looked younger than me, and who couldn’t begin to understand my apprehension because of her own career choices. Before that I was working with old people, whose kids had stuck them in a home with a lot of people they don’t know, and, you know…? No… no, I don’t want to be alone,” Abby concluded as she walked towards her rented sedan. Chester followed her, saying nothing.

***

Flying through the clouds over the southwestern United States…

“Any luck on the readouts, Prof?”

“Not so far, Red. It’s not — wait! Wait, I’m picking it up again! The energy trail looks like it landed somewhere in Louisiana. Ace, readjust your course west by 23 degrees.”

“Got it, Prof.”

“What do ya figure it is?”

“I’m not sure, Rocky. It looks like it could be some kind of energy life-form, though.”

“Not another energy life-form!”

“We mustn’t assume it’s hostile. For all we know it could be terrestrial.”

“Like E.T.?”

“No, Rocky. E.T. means extra-terrestrial. Not of this earth.”

“Wouldn’t extra-terrestrial mean really really from earth?”

“No, Rocky.”

“Well, maybe we should bring a phone with us, huh?”

“Pardon me?”

“‘Cause maybe our E.T. will wanna phone home, y’know?”

“…”

“Or, uh, maybe a bike?”

“I’m moving back up to the front now.”

“OK… Psst! Red! Did you see the look on his face? He bought the whole story!”

“You tricky bastard! Ha-ha! You know, he’s gonna catch on to your stupid act one of these days, if he hasn’t already. Just be glad he doesn’t engage in practical jokes himself.”

***

“Don’t worry about it, Abby,” said Chester as they stopped in a driveway. “I’ll let Liz where we’re going. Be back in a sec.”

“Thanks. And take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

Chester rang the doorbell. “A-all right,” he heard Liz say from inside. “All right, I’m just coming.”

“Hi, Liz. How you doing?” Chester said as she let him inside. Although he’d gotten to know Liz since February, she was still quite awkward around everyone, especially men. She had gotten married to Dr. Dennis Barclay sometime after their adventures with the Swamp Thing, but Dennis’ mind had snapped. He had become completely paranoid and had infected Liz with his paranoia to such an extent that the television journalist had been reduced to the trembling woman she was now. It all came to a head when Dennis came after her with a shotgun in an act his diseased mind must have believed was the best thing to do. After all, they were hunted by the DDI. Was it not better for him to take his wife’s life and his own rather than become captured by the enemy? Abby had rescued her, and Dennis had died by his own folly in the swamps. Liz still cried at night over him.

“I’m OK. Uh. H-how… how are you?”

“OK, thanks. Say, Abby and I were just about to go out to the swamp. Uh, did you want to come, or…?”

“Oh, no. No, I couldn’t. Just couldn’t.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“No, no, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m such a mess. Abby helps me out so much. You must think I’m pathetic. You’re right. I don’t help Abby out enough, I’m useless with…”

“Hey! Slow down!” said Chester gently. “You’re somebody who got head tripped real bad, is all. It happens. I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

“Y-you don’t?” Liz asked, genuinely surprised.

“No way,” Chester said smiling and looking at her through his granny glasses. “You’re beautiful. You just have to mellow out a little. Anyway, Abby’s out in the car. We’re just gonna head over to the swamp for a bit. You take it easy, OK?”

“O-OK.”

The telephone rang just then. Liz looked at it. It rang again. And again.

“You gonna get that?” asked Chester, walking back up to the step.

“I-it’s probably for Abby. I-I wouldn’t want to mess any messages up or anything, I–”

“It’s OK, it’s OK, I’ll get it,” Chester said and picked up the telephone receiver. “Hello? Yeah, she’s here. Can I ask who’s calling? The hospital? OK, I’ll go get her.” He smiled as he handed the receiver to Liz and said, “It’s a call for Abby.”

Liz stood there, perplexed as she held the receiver and watched him walk out to the car. Beautiful. He said beautiful.

Abby walked in and took the phone. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Cable?” the voice said.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Matthew Cable?”

“Yes, this is Abby Cable,” she said. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Matt?”

“Well, yes. We can’t explain it. He–”

“What is it?” Abby asked as the woman trailed off.

“Well, the thing is, he appears to have come out of his coma. Mrs. Cable, your husband is awake.”

Abby dropped the receiver.

“Mrs. Cable…?”

Abby dropped to the floor in a faint.

“Mrs. Cable? Hello?”

Chapter Three

The Challengers of the Unknown, for that was what they were, disembarked from their flying craft and began searching the lonely Louisiana acreage situated in the swamplands. The only building on the site was a large, old barn which had fire damage.

“I hope this isn’t a fool’s errand, Prof,” said Ace Morgan, the crack pilot of the Challengers, after the team had been searching the area for several minutes. “I know we agreed that our search for alternative sources of energy was to be one of our top priorities, a way of giving back to the world, but if we’re going to go flying off after every blip on the radar–”

“This wasn’t just any ‘blip on the radar,’ Ace,” interrupted Prof Haley, the master skindiver, oceanographer, and scientist. “As I explained to all of you earlier, the energy signature I picked up this time was very different from anything I’ve ever seen before. And it moved as if with intelligence. It was no accident that it landed here, I’m sure of that much.” Prof whistled with his fingers and shouted to his teammates, “We may have to start searching underwater. There’s no time to lose! That energy signature is fading fast!”

“That’s your field of expertise, Prof!” laughed Red Ryan, the Challs’ circus acrobat and electronics expert.

“I brought along enough wetsuits for all of us, if need be,” Haley replied. “And it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to find anything on the surface. The energy seems to have dissipated.”

“Then why’re we still here?” asked Rocky Davis, ex-heavyweight boxing champ and wrestler.

“Well, I’m hoping that whatever intelligence was behind that energy is still here. My best bet is that it’s at the bottom of that bog.” Prof quickly began changing into his wetsuit while trying to keep from getting bitten by the many mosquitoes hovering in the air.

***

Terrebonne Parish Hospital, Houma, Louisiana:

Abby Cable’s heart was leaping a mile a minute as she walked through the hospital doors which had become so familiar to her over the last three years. Her mind was reeling as a sudden mix of conflicting emotions washed over her. Matt Cable, her husband, had awoken from his coma. She had resigned herself to the fact that he would never wake up again long ago. Or at least she had believed it was a fact. The doctors had told her so.

She had no idea what she would say to him. Things had been so difficult with him the last couple of years before the car accident that his slipping into a coma was not hard for her to deal with. Had she wanted him to stay in that coma forever? Had she wanted him to die? She wasn’t sure about that. She wasn’t sure about anything any more.

Over the last year she had been waiting for her lover to come back to her. Not Matt, no. Alec. She had lost the two loves of her life within the span of one year, and she had hardly had any time to think about what she would do if either of them came back to her.

It was going to be difficult to face Matt, she realized. How could she look him in the eye? “Sorry, Matt honey, while you were in a coma I took a swamp monster as my lover.” It wasn’t quite that simple, she realized, but it was essentially the truth. She had failed her marriage vows to the man she had begun referring to as her “first husband.” Hadn’t she agreed to stand by Matt till “death do us part”?

No, she finally decided. No guilt. She had her reasons for doing what she did. Matt was gone; he had been distant from her for long before his coma. And Alec had never tried to pressure her into anything, ever. But it was only natural that the two were drawn together, despite their obvious differences.

As she walked through the hospital corridor she wondered to herself what she would do now. She had been waiting for Alec to return to her for so long that she had denied the possibility that Matt would ever himself return. She had often thought about being granted a divorce, but she could never bear to do it. Matt — the real Matt — had always been good to her. But the horror of his body being used as a vessel for her own uncle was too much to think about. It had colored her very perception of her husband. She really had no idea how she felt about Matt any longer or what she would do now that he was back in the world of the living. She didn’t think she would know until she could look him in the face. She didn’t want to have to make any decisions just yet, but she thought to herself that, if she could only look into the eyes of the man she married, she would know exactly what to do.

Abby stopped in front of the closed door to Matt’s room. She thought it strange that she wasn’t crying. She only felt numb, as if none of this were real. Finally, after taking a deep breath and steeling herself for whatever she might face in this room, she turned the doorknob and began to push open the door.

***

“Any luck, Prof?” shouted Ace.

“No,” Prof Haley replied. “There’s nothing particularly unusual down here. It looks as if this may have been a wild goose chase, after all. It’s strange, though… there’s some odd-looking biomass at the bottom of this bog. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Ya think it could be the source of that energy-whatzit?” asked Rocky.

“No, this appears to have been forming here for quite a few years. Some chemical in this water, perhaps, has caused unusual plant growth. Hmm.” Prof paused for a moment, as if in thought. “Oh well. I suppose it has nothing to do with our energy signature. We might as well head back home.”

“Did you hear something?” Red whispered. The others shook their heads. “I could have sworn…” He listened more carefully, and the others stopped and listened as well. After a few moments it was apparent that something was moving.

“What do you suppose it is?” whispered Ace.

“Probably just a squirrel or something,” said Rocky.

“Shhh! There it is again,” whispered Red. “It’s coming from over there,” he said pointing.

“What is that…?” said Prof. “Is that a grave?”

“Looks like,” said Red as he cautiously edged over to the grave, where the earth looked like it had moved. He waved the rest of them over to it, and they stood around it and watched as the soil was pushed upwards.

“Not another dead man coming back to life,” groaned Rocky.

“It could be,” said Ace, “or it could be something else entirely. I’d suggest we exercise caution, gentlemen.”

The team continued to watch for another few moments until a dark hand broke through to the surface. None of the Challengers batted an eye. This was familiar territory for them. In another few minutes the rest of the body would be breaking through. And the Challs would be ready for anything.

Chapter Four

Abigail Arcane Cable pushed open the door to her husband’s room. Matt was sitting up in bed, looking directly at her as she walked in. He wore a faint smile. “Hi… Abby.”

“Hello, Matt,” she said as she looked into his tired eyes and felt completely nauseous. No guilt, she reminded herself once more. “You… look good.” She placed her purse on the ground next to the door and walked over to his bed, stopping at a respectable distance.

Matt simply looked at her, smiling a half-smile which was only a glimmer of the broad smile she remembered. “I’ve seen myself, Abby. I look terrible.”

“Yeah,” Abby said, smiling, “you do. You really do.” She sat down on the chair next to his bed, a familiar place for her this past year.

“I… had this dream, Abby,” Matt said as he laid his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “I dreamed about my father.” Abby remained quiet and listened to him, the two avoiding eye contact. “My father came home in my dream, and I was so happy to see him. Y’know, all the kids had teased me so much growing up without a father. I fought every single one of them until they were black and blue, though, because I knew my father had been a decorated soldier. A hero. And when my father finally came home it was like a hero from the story books I read as a kid was walking into our lives. He was bigger than life, he really was. But in my dream I remembered what happened after he came home.

“It was dark. I must have been seven or eight. And I woke up in the middle of the night. There was this awful sound, like the dog whining or something. So I got out of bed and walked downstairs. And there was the dog, whining and whimpering. He… he had tracked mud all over the floor. I thought to myself, ‘Mom’s gonna be really mad when she sees this.’

“But… but when I walked over to the dog, I realized that he wasn’t moving. He was just lying there. I nudged him a couple of times, but he didn’t wake up, he was just snoring. That’s when I noticed that all the mud the dog had tracked through the kitchen wasn’t brown, like you’d expect mud to be. It was red. And even though the dog was asleep I could still hear that whimpering sound.

“I went around the corner and saw… it was my father, sitting with his back to me on the steps leading to the basement. My father. He was crying. My father, the hero. The lieutenant. The three-time decorated war hero was sobbing like a little boy. Suddenly I felt hot tears going down my cheeks, not because I was sad, but because I was confused and terrified. What could possibly make my father cry? And then I saw something shiny move up and down in front of him. I was too scared to look at what it was then, but I caught a glimpse of this hideous creature with sharp teeth and red eyes. I ran.

“I could feel the thing running after me as I ran outside, and when I turned to take a peek behind me all I could see were these huge spidery legs like knives thrusting at me. I thought I was going to die. The thing that had made daddy cry was going to kill me. That was when my dream changed, and I was back in bed, just sweating and crying.

“I remember having that recurring dream was I was little. It scared the bejeezuz out of me back then. It was strange. My father went away again, and things were never the same. One time my mother brought us to see him in this big, white house. He didn’t look the same as before. His hair was cut in this messy crewcut and he hadn’t shaved. And he had these bandages around both of his wrists. He couldn’t even look us in the eye. It was the last time my mother brought us to see him.

“A few years later, after I’d begun my military service, I was on leave to visit my mother back home, and I stopped into this bar for a pick-me-up. I took a seat right at the bar and looked over… and there was my father. I recognized him, plain as day, even though he looked so much older. He didn’t look at me, and wouldn’t have recognized me if he had, but just sat there downing drink after drink, staring into space, flinching repeatedly as if there was something coming at him. He didn’t have any bandages any longer, but he looked awful. I… I remember feeling ashamed of him. Disappointed. He was so small. Not the hero who had come home from the war when I was a kid. And I walked right out of that bar and never looked back. Of course I never mentioned anything about it to my mother; I didn’t want to see her cry again. But a few days afterwards when I got back to base I received this notice. My father was dead.”

Tears were already streaming down Abby’s face as she quietly listened.

“I remember holding that notice in my hands for a moment, and then just crumpling it up and tossing it away, as if I could toss away his memory as well. It’s strange. I never really thought of him much after that. And my mother and I never spoke of him. Ever. I just went on with my life and my career. I’d be the hero my father couldn’t be.

“But… things didn’t work out the way I thought they would. And I-I think I understand my father now. Finally understand him.” Matt looked at his wife. “I don’t blame you, Abby, for seeing me as a disappointment. A failure. I finally understand what can drive a man to the brink. And I… I know about you and… and Alec.” Abby was sobbing by now. “No, it’s OK. It’s all right. I remember the last few months of our marriage, and I can only feel regret at what I’ve done to you. To us. I don’t blame you if you walk out that door and never look back. Not after everything you’ve been put through. You deserve to be… with the one you love.”

Abby just continued to cry.

Chapter Five

The Challengers of the Unknown watched cautiously from a distance as a dark, grotesque hand clawed its way out of the packed ground. They heard groans as the thing pushed itself with a great deal of effort out of the grave.

Finally, the thing stood before the four men. It was too dark to see the thing clearly, but it was larger than a normal man and glistened from the distant lights of the Challs’ flying craft. It stood without acknowledging the others’ presence and waited as if gaining strength. The Challs could not know at this point what its intentions were.

Ace broke the silence. “Hello… uh… do you speak English?”

“Of course it doesn’t speak English, Ace,” interrupted Prof, “it’s probably not even from this planet.” He held an energy detector in his hand and found that the thing before him matched the energy signature which he had detected as it entered Earth’s atmosphere and disappeared in this area.

“Deeeee… deeeee… eyyyye…” the thing croaked in a rumbling sound, almost a voice.

“Izzat your name? Didi-eye?” asked Rocky.

For the first time, the thing seemed to become aware of the others. He looked up at them.

“Careful, guys,” Ace said quietly, motioning them back.

“Reeeeeeee… vennnnnnnnggge…”

“That’s it,” said Red, grabbing his gun.

“Oh… my… God…” gasped Prof. “Red, no!!” Prof Haley pushed Red’s arm away before he could shoot.

“What th–?!” exclaimed Red. “What did you go and do that for?”

“I can’t believe it…” said Ace suddenly, looking into the thing’s eyes.

“You see it too?” asked Prof.

“See what?” asked Red.

“Don’t you recognize ‘im?” said Rocky. “It-it looks like…”

Prof motioned for the others to be quiet. Then he took a step towards the thing and said, “Doctor Holland? Doctor Alec Holland?”

A glimmer of recognition registered in the thing’s eyes. “Yessss…”

“Swamp Thing?” said a shocked Red Ryan. “I thought he was d–”

“Shh!” Prof interrupted.

“Do you remember us, Dr. Holland?” said Ace. “We’re the Challengers of the Unknown. We were… once your friends.”

The Swamp Thing looked at him with red eyes. Finally he spoke in his slow, halting way, “Yes, I … remember…”

“What happened, Dr. Holland?” asked Prof as he took a tentatively closer inspection of the creature who was once their ally. “What is your last memory?”

“I was… running… towards A-Abby… we kissed… embraced… then… then… confusion… fire… pain… I heard Abby… screaming… I was trapped… in my body… there… was no place… to go… but there…” he slowly lifted a large arm and pointed to the starry sky above.

“We saw what happened,” said Rocky, “on TV. Sorry, pal.”

“My thoughts… were… only on… revenge… upon those who… did this… to me… to… us…” The Swamp Thing paused, and his eyes darted around. “Where… is… where is… Abby…?”

“‘Abby’?” muttered Red. “Your woman?”

“Right,” said Rocky. “Remember that court case? She was there when… when they firebombed our pal, here.”

“We’ll bring you back to your woman, Dr. Holland,” said Ace. “You have our word on that.”

Chapter Six

“Thank… you, my… friends… but… I must do… this alone…” said the Swamp Thing in his low, rumbling voice. He stood completely still. The Challengers looked around at each other, confused and waiting for something to happen.

After several painfully quiet moments, the Swamp Thing finally said, “Something is… wrong… the Green… it is… denied to me… I… cannot leave… this body…”

“Why would you think you could?” asked Ace. The Challengers had known Alec Holland from a time before he learned that he was a plant elemental and could transfer his “spirit” elsewhere and grow a new body from whatever vegetation was readily available. He had done so spectacularly in Gotham City, for instance, when he grew a thorny, flowery body out of a bouquet of roses. But the Challs knew little of this, and would have been unaware that any powers the Swamp Thing displayed then were permanent.

“You do… not understand… I…” Holland stopped speaking suddenly, as if realizing where he was for the first time. “Here…? But… no… oh, no…”

He turned and looked down at the desecrated grave at his feet. There was quite a bit of overturned soil, but no trace of any body at all. And there certainly was no skeleton.

“This… grave. It is… mine, I… buried… Holland here… How can this… be…?”

“I thought he was–?” Rocky whispered to Red before the other shushed him.

“I do… not understand… what is… happening… what has… happened…”

“That makes five of us, Doc,” said Ace. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you figure it out. You’re among friends now.”

The Swamp Thing glared at the man. “‘Friends’…? I have no… need of… human friends… Please… leave me… leave… now…”

“Dr. Holland, we–”

“LEAVE… NOW… I CANNOT… GUARANTEE… YOUR SAFETY FROM… ME IF… YOU DO NOT… LEAVE…”

“You heard the man,” said Ace, the Swamp Thing wincing at the use of the word “man.” “Let’s leave him to his privacy; he’s earned it.”

The Challengers respectfully nodded at the swamp creature and turned to leave, piling back into the Challenger Jet.

“I don’t think it’s wise to leave that man alone at a time like this, Ace.”

“Neither do I, Prof. That’s why we’ll be tracking his movements. We promised to help him, and we’re going to stick to that promise.”

The Swamp Thing then made an agonizing noise that, if there were any human ears to hear it, would remind one of a suffering animal in anguish. The creature was not animal, but he was certainly suffering. Within him, though, burned a determination to return to his home, the home he had made for himself before he was forced away from this planet. If Abby were anywhere, she would be waiting there for his return.

The creature who wore the form of man began walking south through the murky swamplands, avoiding all signs of civilization.

Chapter Seven

Omarr had lived in the Bayou all of his natural life. He had never known anything else; that is, except for what he saw on cable television. Of course, he was only ten years old, but he knew that one of his relatives had traveled quite a bit and wondered what other places were really like. Uncle Jeff sometimes came to visit him and his family at the resort, and he would regale the boy with tales of far-off places like Atlanta and San Antonio, and even as far away as Wyoming. He had the feeling, though, that Uncle Jeff had far more interesting tales in him that he couldn’t tell. Sometimes Omie, as he was known by his friends, believed that his Uncle Jeff was a secret agent man, like the old song his friend Darryl liked. That was probably the reason he couldn’t tell him the really exciting stories. Yes, Omie decided that must be it.

Today Omie sat at the end of a dock and tried to catch himself a monster fish. He knew there were monster fish in these waters; there had to be. He and Darryl had read about them in the National Enquirer, and the newspapers never lied. Besides, even some big city reporters came by once in a while to interview people about the sightings of the monster fish. Sometimes they even mentioned monster reptiles. Omie wasn’t all that particular; he just wanted to see some kind of monster before he got too old to appreciate it. His older cousin Gabe was already like that. He kept telling Omie all the time, “There ain’t no such thing as monster fish, kid!” Omie knew better, though. He had already figured out that, as one gets older he becomes kind of blind, in a way, to things like monsters, and magic, and even miracles. He was also very determined to never become blind like his cousin and his parents.

It was funny, though: Uncle Jeff didn’t seem to be the same way as the other adults in his life. Omie figured it must be a secret agent thing. That gave him hope; perhaps, if he never lost his vision for the wondrous things in life, Omie could become just like Uncle Jeff when he grew up.

What was keeping Darryl, though? Gabe sometimes made fun of him for hanging out with “that chubby honky,” as he called him, but Darryl was easy to get along with, and Omie could always get him to do what he wanted.

“Darryl, where are you, you freckled tub o’ lard?” shouted Omie, the sound quickly disappearing in the thick swamplands. “Darryl?” His friend was supposed to have brought his dad’s camera with him so the two boys could take photographs of all the monster fish they were going to find this day and get that big reward the Enquirer had advertised. Well, it would be Darryl’s fault if a school of monster fish came floating by and Omie didn’t have any camera to take pictures with, that’s for sure.

His eyes opened wide in wonderment as he saw a huge shape floating underwater. A monster fish! Omie realized, regretting that Darryl still hadn’t arrived with the camera. At least he did have his fishing pole and net with him. He was ready.

Omarr picked up the slack on the fishing line and dug his heels in as he began to feel a slight tugging at the line. Man, this fish was big! Omie kept a tight hold on the fishing line but found the pressure growing. Soon it was too hard to hold on.

“Omie! Omie!” shouted Darryl, a short, chubby, red-haired kid as he ran up to his friend at the end of the dock. He stopped as he saw Omarr struggling with the fishing pole. “Omie?”

“Don’t just stand there, Darryl, help me!” shouted Omie over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Darryl asked excitedly as he ran up and grabbed part of the fishing pole and helped to keep it from getting away.

“What do you think it is? It’s gotta be some kinda monster fish! Gimme the camera!”

“You better not get it wet!”

“Just give it here!” Omie shouted as he grabbed the camera with one hand. Unfortunately, tug at the fishing line proved to be too much for Darryl alone, and the pole fell into the water. “Aw, $&^#!!!”

“Take a picture!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Suddenly the water seemed to bubble and churn, and a split second later a huge creature like a monster alligator-man burst out of the water!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” the two kids screamed in unison, completely forgetting about the picture contest.

The creature roared back just as loudly as it climbed onto the dock and began to race after the boys. It looked like a cross between an alligator and a man, except that its flesh was completely green like the leaves on the trees above.

Omarr got away in time, but Darryl tripped on his untied shoelace and was unable to get up fast enough due to his girth. “Get up, man! Get up!” Omie shouted from behind a tree at a distance.

The alligator-man dove towards the boy on the ground, who seemed to be now paralyzed with fear. Darryl had closed his eyes and begun muttering, “I’m sorry God please save me I’ll never look at those Playboys or Penthouses ever again or anything else just save me save me please,” when he realized that he was still alive. He opened his eyes and looked up. Then he began screaming again.

The creature known as the Swamp Thing wrestled with the fierce alligator-man as the pudgy little boy beneath him kept on screaming and screaming, his friend shouting at him to get away from there just as loudly. Strangely enough, he began to feel a sense of deja vu. He had encountered a creature like this before, many years ago in a place not far from here, at that time saving Matt Cable and Abby Arcane’s lives in the process. Why had he only now remembered?

He finally overpowered the alligator-man and the two fell down in a crash against the dock, shattering under the force and causing them to propel into the water.

Darryl finally stopped screaming and got up to run away. He got as far as the place where Omarr was hiding behind a tree until his friend stopped him by grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back. “What’re you doin’, Omie? Let’s get outta here!”

“Wait one sec, Darryl,” said Omarr, carefully watching as the water churned from the fierce battle between the two creatures. “That other one saved your life! Maybe it’s that Swamp Thing creature we heard about.”

“No way! He’s dead, ain’t he? We saw him get cooked on TV!”

“Maybe they didn’t get ‘im after all.”

“Who cares? I’m gettin’ outta–”

Darryl’s next word got stuck in his throat as the two boys saw one of the creatures arising from the waters. To their great relief, it was not the alligator-man, but the one who looked like the legendary Swamp Thing.

“Get the camera! Get the camera!” whispered Omie to the wide-eyed Darryl.

“No…” said the Swamp Thing, to the boys’ great surprise, his voice a low rumble, “…they didn’t… get me…”

The two boys were speechless as they stared in awe at the large, man-like creature. Somehow they knew, as they looked at him, that there was nothing to fear.

Omarr, the bravest of the two, came out from behind the tree and spoke: “Are you… are you Swamp Thing?”

The creature nodded, seemingly amused.

The boy reached for the camera on the ground and managed to voice the words, “Uh… you mind if we take your picture? It’s for… uh… a science project!”

The creature was silent for a moment, but replied after a while, “Yes… but… only if your… friend… stands next… to me…”

Omarr looked at Darryl and gave him a slight push. Darryl wasn’t afraid of the Swamp Thing like he had been of the alligator-man — he knew he wasn’t in any real danger — but the sight of the huge, green swamp creature had him tongue-tied and caused his knees to shake. Reluctantly he slowly made his way over to the Swamp Thing’s side and stood next to him as Omie held the camera with shaking hands and prepared to take a picture.

“Oh, heh, forgot about the lens cap,” Omarr laughed when he realized why it was so dark. “Uh… smile!” He pressed a button on the camera. This photograph was sure to win them that prize.

The Swamp Thing then turned and left, continuing on through the swamps to his destination.

“Wow,” Darryl said when he finally got his voice back.

“That was great!” Omie shouted. “We gotta take this film in right away!”

“Film?”

“Yeah, the film in the camera…” Omarr stopped and stared at the gulping Darryl. “You did put film in the camera, di’n't you?”

“You never told me to get film, just the camera!”

The two boys began to argue excitedly as the Swamp Thing moved off. The alligator-creature would not threaten anyone again, but the question of its existence was very disturbing. It was not merely an alligator transformed with anthropomorphic features, but it was formed of the same plant material that made up his own body. It appeared to have been the alligator equivalent of a swamp creature like himself. That brought many questions to Alec Holland’s mind, but he had no time to entertain them at the moment. He had to get home.

Chapter Eight

Abby tried to sleep as she sat curled up in the chair in Matt Cable’s hospital room. They had been talking for many hours before they realized that it was well past visiting hours. The nurse had allowed her to stay in Matt’s room overnight, however, on the condition that the two would end their conversation and let Matt sleep.

The strange thing was… she didn’t want to go to sleep.

The first few moments with Matt had been very awkward, it was true. She had cried. He had cried. But somehow they had gotten through that. Their conversation went on from there. Abby had been through a lot since Matt had gone into a coma. He listened to her very intently, like a young man did with his girl, not in the disinterested, pretending way the husband of an old married couple would. She took her time explaining everything, and Matt would stop her once a while, asking her to go back to a certain detail he hadn’t quite caught, or having her pause her story in order to laugh his old, carefree, masculine laugh once more. She had never realized until that moment just how much she missed that laugh, even though that very same laugh had infuriated her at one time. Matt had such a way about him that put all her most trivial female concerns — important as they may have felt to her at the time — into perspective. And he had always been able to make her laugh at it despite herself.

She squirmed now, a smile on her face as she made a half-hearted attempt to give in to her body’s exhaustion. She couldn’t sleep, though. She was too excited.

The couple’s conversation had drifted on to many different subjects throughout the evening, some serious but most of such little importance, apparently, that she could hardly remember what was said. It wasn’t important. Not at all. The conversation was the thing. Each conversation seems to take on a life of its own. It will usually begin with a simple question or statement, which may turn into a topic. That topic brings to mind a number of other subjects, which keeps the conversation going as the two conversationalists invest themselves in it. The conversation between the Cables was no different. Except, perhaps, that the two wished it never to end. For the first time in months — no, years — they were oblivious to the outside world again, completely happy just to be talking with the other.

Abby laughed quietly to herself as she remembered this evening, the things Matt had said, the old, familiar smile on his face which was just like the smile he had worn when they’d first met in her homeland of Romania. She had been a mere twenty-year-old young woman and he already an experienced man of the world at twenty-nine, a secret agent, no less.

Over the course of the evening and their conversation, Abigail finally began to realize something about Matt that she hadn’t perceived at first. He was different, somehow. When the two had first met, Matt Cable was literally her hero. He had saved her life on more than one occasion in those early days. More than that, he was unlike any man she had ever known, except perhaps her father, who had died shortly after her tenth birthday. Yes, Matt was something of a father figure in her life back then, and she was willing to follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant being with him forever. Later on things changed, though. She didn’t know exactly when things began to change, but it must have been a year or so after they were married. Things began to equalize, somehow. Matt seemed to have fallen off the pedestal she had put him on, and the two were on even footing. If it had stayed that way it would have been fine, but things continued to change. Slowly, ever so imperceptively slowly, the roles began to reverse themselves. By the end she realized that she had become something of a mother-figure to him. She was the one leading the charge to help Alec, while Matt followed her at first, grumbling every moment, but then finally began to keep to himself and sulk. And by that time she had already fallen out of love with him, though she didn’t realize it at the time.

Now, however, the Matthew Cable who slept soundly in the bed only a few inches away was not the man who had fallen into that coma. It was the man who she had married. The hero. As she thought this an image of Alec came into her mind. Abby resisted any temptation to compare the two, as it would have been wrong, but a pang of hurt came to her for the first time in hours. She almost felt the hurt and loss that Alec must have been feeling at that moment. The rage at the men who had taken him away from her. This hurt was tempered by the joy with which Matt had greeted her upon his own return to consciousness.

There was no avoiding it. She had to eventually choose one of them. And she knew it would be cruel to both of them to keep them waiting for too long. But of course, Alec was still away. She knew he was coming back, but the thought of this was no longer joyful to her. For she knew that by that time she would have to make an irrevocable decision about her future. And one of the two men in her life would have to walk away with a broken heart.

Chapter Nine

The journey took a long time. Too long. It seemed that, every time the Swamp Thing was able to travel in secrecy, something came up. He could not help but to think that these swamps were infested with evil… pure evil. It seemed as if all the ghouls and creatures of the night rose together to slow him down as he traveled through these dark swamps at night, out of the sight of man. At some points he thought he would never make it back home. He was very tired. Physically he was very similar to how he appeared when he was first born into this life as the Swamp Thing, and indeed he was subject to the same limitations he had been subject to then. He could not leave this body and grow another one where he wanted to go. Nor could he cause this one to grow any further or faster than it had already grown to this point. Thus, caution returned to him, for he was no longer a god. He was merely another creature of the swamps.

He stopped as he entered the clearing in the wee hours before sunrise. The air was chilly. Mist rose above the murky waters and the sound of birds singing to one another filled the air but did little to fill the ache in his heart. As he feared, Abby was not waiting for him here at his home in the swamps. Of course she wasn’t, he realized. How could she possibly even know that he was back? He told these things to himself, but could not shake the belief that somehow she knew he was coming back and that somehow something had happened to prevent her coming here to wait for him.

The Swamp Thing sat down by a tree and tried to regain his lost energy. The battle with the alligator creature had taken a lot out of him, but it was the subsequent taunting of wicked voices in the oppressive air as he walked which took the most out of him. As he traveled his fevered mind had seen apparitions. Arcane, surrounded by demons, seemed to be laughing as he watched his plight. He seemed to see John Constantine sitting in a bar and bragging about how he suckered him into a fool’s errand which almost destroyed him in the end. And Abby. She was laughing and surrounded by several leering, oiled young men, getting drunk on the wine of her fornications. They were all illusions, however, brought on by he knew not what. Even the trees in the swamps themselves had seemed to be scowling at him and tripping him up as he walked. There was an evil presence in the woods which he had never encountered before this time.

The hypothetical question the Parliament of Trees had posed to him so many months ago lingered in the air like an unanswered query: “Where is evil in all the wood?” At the time the Swamp Thing believed that they had meant to say that the world’s trees, the flowers, and the plants were free from all corruption and were pure and free from the sickly taint of evil. Now, though, he wondered if it had meant something quite different. The Swamp Thing had seen evil in the wood, first in Patagonia, and now here in the swamplands of Louisiana which appeared to have cropped up in his absence. He was too weary and pained to give it any further thought, however.

He began to think about Abby. She was not here, but there was no way she could have known of his return, despite his intuition. She was probably in Houma, where she was working before his disappearance. He hoped that she had not taken a job elsewhere. No, he thought to himself. This was her home now. If she at all believed that he was coming back, this was where they would meet. And it was a local hospital in which Matt was being kept.

Alec Holland had known Matt Cable in the days when both he and his wife Linda were still alive. Lieutenant Cable had been the government agent who was supposed to have protected them from those who wanted the bio-restorative formula at any price. Unfortunately, Matt Cable was not present at the times Alec and Linda needed him the most. The Swamp Thing had never held that against him, nor had he resented Matt’s relentless hunting of him in the early days when he believed the Swamp Thing was responsible for the Hollands’ deaths. They had become allies after a while against the horrors they encountered together, along with Abby. The Swamp Thing had loved her even then but could never act on that love; believing that the thought of it would be utterly grotesque to her. It was a moot point after Matt and Abby were married, until the tragedy which put Matt into that coma caused a reversal of fortune in which Alec and Abby were able to express their love for each other.

The Swamp Thing thought of this and other things as he surreptitiously trekked through the forest towards the town of Houma clad in an old trenchcoat and a broad-rimmed hat. Few people were yet up at this hour, but already roosters were crowing and cars began to pull out onto the road, heading for work. He had no desire to interact with anyone at this point but Abby, and he did his best to avoid awaking sleeping dogs.

Finally he found himself standing before the place where Abby had lived. After a few glances through the windows he knew she was not there. He did see a familiar-looking woman asleep in a bed, but he was certain that it was not Abby and was too tired to discover her identity. With little time left, he discounted all further possibilities except for the hospital where Matt was being kept. Perhaps she was there, he thought desperately, a sinking feeling of dread hitting him suddenly.

He was used to slinking in shadows in disguise as he had in the early days, but never had he felt such fear of getting caught. He had no way of telling how vulnerable this body was now that he had returned. He found his way to the hospital with little problem. But what he saw when he got there hit him to his very core.

It was Matt Cable, awake and looking like his old self once again, talking enthusiastically with Abby as she helped him into her car. So it was true. The feelings of dread and loss he had ever since getting back to this world were because of this. The shock of it passed quickly enough for the Swamp Thing to turn around after one long look as he watched them drive away. He felt angry in one way, and happy in another way because his old friend Matt was all right, but mostly he felt numb. He would have been better off staying in space.

Chapter Ten

An hour later, the Swamp Thing made his way back to his former home in the boggy swamplands outside of Houma, planning on taking one long, last look before abandoning it forever. When he spied a shock of blonde hair behind a trail of blue smoke, just above a trenchcoat, he suddenly had a feeling of deja vu.

“Constantine…” he growled, “…why am I not… surprised…?”

“Welcome back to the planet Earth, mate!” John Constantine said, dropping ashes onto the forest floor. “You’ve been gone a long time. Noticed anything different since you’ve been back?” The Swamp Thing stalked past him and said nothing. “Been to see Abby, have you, then?” The creature stopped. “Blasted shame, that. But, hey, it leaves you free to carry on with your true purpose in life.”

“And what… might that be…?”

“Wish I could tell you. That’s really something each of us has to figure out for ourselves, though, innit?”

In a second the Swamp Thing was standing in his face, anger steaming from his nostrils. “I have no patience… for your games, Constantine…!”

“Easy now, big fellow,” Constantine said, nonplussed. “You’re right, though. The time for games and trickery is over. I think it’s time you learned the truth.” He took another drag from his cigarette and blew it in the Swamp Thing’s face. “The Parliament wants to see you.”

The Swamp Thing hated feeling like someone was constantly pulling his strings to and fro. It had been more months, years even, than he could remember since he could do anything but react to situations which were thrust upon him, rather than take the bull by the horns, so to speak, and make his own destiny. Too many things had happened to him over the years, but few of them had been his choice. Now that he was back and some of his choices had already been made up for him, he wanted to choose his destiny from now on.

“No…” he said, turning around and walking away once more.

“If this is about Abby, guv, it’s not worth it. She was bound to leave you sooner or later. Now come on, I’ve got transport waiting for us.”

“Do not tempt me, Constantine… I have been through… too much to put up with you… any longer…”

“Trust me, tall, dark and gruesome, you’ll want to hear the answers to all those unspoken questions rattling around in your brain,” John said, smirking. “I know you too well.”

***

Several minutes later, the two stepped out into a clearing, where a scientifically-advanced jet sat awaiting them. Four men stood in front of it.

“I thought I told you… to leave me…” the Swamp Thing said as they walked up to the four men dressed in purple jumpsuits.

“Hey, we couldn’t leave an old pal alone just when he needed us most,” said Rocky. The other members of the Challengers of the Unknown agreed.

“You seem to… know everyone, Constantine…” the creature said as the group boarded the jet and buckled themselves in. “I suppose I… shouldn’t be surprised… that you know the Challengers… of the Unknown…”

“The unknown is my stock in trade, squire,” John Constantine said enigmatically and smiled as he set his seat back far enough to take a nap.

Within minutes, the Challenger Jet, with all its passengers, took off vertically into the air and then proceeded to head south.

Chapter Eleven

The trip towards the continent of South America and specifically the Brazilian rainforest near the river Tefé was a quiet one. Ace Morgan piloted the jet the whole way there, Prof Haley had a notebook with him in which he worked on one of his projects, Red Ryan listened to music through a Walkman and headphones, Rocky Davis was reading a copy of G.K. Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday, John Constantine slept most of the way there, and the Swamp Thing did nothing but remain completely still.

Inevitably his thoughts were on Abby and Matt. He was not sure what he was supposed to feel at this point. It was true that he and Abby had shared a special bond of love (grim thoughts of “the Beauty and the Beast” came to his mind), but she had been with Matt for a long time earlier. Circumstances had been such that anything that was between herself and Matt was long over, but with Matt appearing to be not only healthy but also back to his old, capable self, how could she not return to him? The choice between a strong, healthy man and a monster from the swamps was no choice at all. They had never had a conversation about the possibility that Matt might ever get better, and that made him wonder. Was that because they both believed he would never wake up, or was that because neither of them knew what would happen if he did?

Well, the point was moot, he told himself. He had no right to her any longer. He had no right to expect to have a relationship with a human woman. He was only a swamp monster. And he knew that he had never been human at all. Jason Woodrue’s report had confirmed that for him. Alec Holland had died in the swamps in 1979 and went on to meet his reward at the same time he — a rare form of intelligent plantlife — was born. Holland’s presence in the afterlife when he visited the realms of Heaven and Hell had only confirmed that. In some ways it had given him a measure of freedom, but at first it was so much of a shock to his system to learn that he had never been human and could never be human again. He had gone into a state of paralysis and allowed himself to be rooted into the embracing soil in the ground. And there he would have stayed had not Abby needed him. What was keeping him from returning to that motionless state once more, now that she had returned to her husband? After all, he was only a plant. And plants were supposed to be planted.

And yet… and yet another memory returned to his mind, unbidden. A memory which had been buried ever since he learned the truth about himself. A memory which only now surfaced, most likely due to the presence of his friends in the Challengers of the Unknown. He had once become human again. Yes! Only a year-and-a-half after the Swamp Thing was born, he returned to his hometown of Quinn, Oregon and was reunited with his brother Edward, who discovered a scientific method which was successful in returning him to human form once again! How in the world could he have forgotten that? But that was impossible! If he had never been human originally, how in the world could he possibly ever have become human again? The paradox made absolutely no sense to him. And why had he not remembered this when he read Woodrue’s report that said the Swamp Thing had never been human? He should have known it was a false conclusion right from the start. Yet he could not deny that he had apparently met the soul of Alec Holland in Heaven. How could he, then, be Alec Holland? Confusion reigned in his mind until he thought it would burst.

The memory of his time as a human recalled to him another person he had forgotten: Ruth Monroe. She had been the lab assistant of his brother Edward’s, and indeed there was a romantic connection between them until he came along. Once again human, Alec and Ruth had fallen in love. Edward was terribly jealous, although he remained courteous to him and attempted to hide his true feelings. Alec Holland was an expert in biochemical anomalies, which was why that man named Clayburne from the Challengers of the Unknown then came and asked for his help. Unfortunately, for some reason unknown to him, the process which had made him human once again began to quickly reverse shortly after he left with the man. The arrogantly wealthy Clayburne was soon afterwards forcibly ejected from the ranks of the Challengers, and the Swamp Thing accompanied them on a couple of cases as a replacement and unofficial member before finally leaving them to return to his life of wandering. He had never seen either Ruth or his brother Edward ever again. Had he subconsciously repressed the memories of his time as a human once again due to its being too painful to think about? Or was there some other explanation? Ruth had been the first woman he had really fallen in love with since Linda’s death. But he had completely forgotten about her by the time he and Abby began their star-crossed relationship. Why?

He turned these thoughts around and around in his mind several times, over and over, until finally he was awoken from his reverie by a hand on his shoulder.

They had arrived at a clearing not far from the sacred grove of the Parliament of Trees. Perhaps it was here that he would finally learn some answers.

Chapter Twelve

Much like the last time he had been here, the wood elemental known as the Swamp Thing was the only one in the group allowed access to the grove in which the Parliament of Trees lived. A band of Indian warriors were on constant guard against unwanted incursions into the sacred area, and they eyed Constantine and the Challengers of the Unknown with grim and wary eyes, even as they bowed before the Swamp Thing himself and revered him as a god. Constantine had said little about why the Parliament wanted to see him, or how he could have possibly known that, but he had promised him some answers, that which he wanted more than anything else at the moment. The Challs seemed like they were just along for the ride, assisting a friend as he had assisted them on more than one occasion when they had first met. The idea of a Parliament of Trees was nothing too strange for them, though. Their careers had exposed them to things much stranger in their time.

“I am not… certain that I will be… returning…” the creature said grimly to his fellow travelers as he turned to meet the Parliament. “There is little… left for me to go… back to…”

“Well, don’t make up your mind just yet, mate,” Constantine said, sweating through his shirt in the South American March summer, even though he had already removed his trenchcoat. “Some of what you learn in there just might change your mind a bit.”

“Perhaps…”

The last time he was here, he had formed himself at will in a body made of the tropical vegetation of the Brazilian rainforest, and was clad in flowers and ferns as he met his predecessors. Now, though, he was merely clad in his old, smooth, dark green form born of the swamps of Louisiana. It was fitting, somehow, to be in his true form, almost naked before those with whom he held a kinship. He stood there in the grove where the younger members of the Parliament resided, in awe once more and feeling as if he knew this place better than any other in the world. It was almost like finally returning home once more. And he was not sure whether this time he would ever be able to leave.

Much like last time, he had been seeking answers to questions burning within him, both asked and unasked. What new knowledge would he now be given?

“Your ancestors… bid you welcome… Swamp Thing…” said the human-like tree before him who was once known as Alex Olsen, “…at least those of us… who still can speak.”

“I have been called here… and I have come at your summons…” the Swamp Thing said. “What is it… that the Parliament of Trees wishes to tell me…?”

“You have many questions… written upon on your heart… young erl-king… Do you not wish… to learn the answers…?”

“I have been away from home… too long… only to find that everything… including myself… has changed…”

“Then be still… let your roots join our roots… your mind join our mind… and enter the discourse of the trees…”

The Swamp Thing laid his form down upon the cool grass and underbrush and, as he once did before, drifted off into the mindscape in which the Parliament of the Trees met. Great, green thoughts, almost completely alien to that of humanity, met him like slow-moving, passing trucks, leaving what felt like vibrations in their wake. For the might and majesty of all of the wood elementals throughout history combined is something powerful indeed. After a few moments which felt like days, they finally began to notice him. Several voices spoke in quick succession without sound, without language.

“Who interrupts the Parliament?” “It is the young one.” “He has returned.” “Where has he been?” “Speak, young one. Where did you go? How came you back?” “Were you not dead?”

The Swamp Thing spoke to them in the same manner as they spoke to him, without sound, without language. “I assure you… news of my death was premature…” he said. “I have been away… from our earth. Visiting other worlds… other greens. Evil men… succeeded in forcing me… out of the biosphere. In desperation… I flung my essence… across space.”

“Other worlds?! Unheard of! None have ever torn their roots from the mother’s soil and survived,” one Parliamentarian objected.

“Then I… am the first. You need only… let our spirits touch… to know the truth.”

Once they cast him out, these minds within the Mind. Now the swimmer floated in the still waters of their stunned silence. And somewhere, deep in the dark undercurrents of this intelligence, he thought he caught a shuddering frisson of fear… or was it awe?

“You have done well,” a voice said as the Parliament fully knew all that had come before. “You have used the powers we gave you wisely in your absence.”

“What… do you mean?” the Swamp Thing asked, confused.

“They mean that the power level you had become used to until very recently was only a temporary situation,” said a new voice, different from all the others, the voice of a stranger.

“You…!” said the Swamp Thing as he saw the figure known as the Phantom Stranger floating in their midst.

“Yes, the Stranger has been awaiting your presence here with us. He is an honored guest, a friend of erl-kings since centuries past, and the only outsider allowed into our sacred gathering.”

“You must explain all of this… to me.”

“I am afraid to tell you, Alec Holland, that you have been the victim of a great deception,” the Stranger said. “A conspiracy which was necessary to save all of existence was also required to keep you blind to the truth.”

“The truth…?”

“That you were greater than you are,” said a voice in the Parliament. “You have tasted what it meant to truly be a god, when you have not yet even become a king.”

“I am… confused… what do you… mean by all of this?”

The Phantom Stranger spoke once more. “Alec Holland, you were not ready at the time to be the champion, the king, that the world needed at the time. You needed assistance desperately if you were to become ready for your day of reckoning.”

“Why do you call me… Alec Holland…? Holland is… dead…”

“No,” said the Stranger. “You are Alec Holland. There is none other.”

“But how can that… be? His ghost… haunted the laboratory where he… died. I saw his… soul when I visited Heaven!”

“I must apologize for that deception, Holland,” said the Phantom Stranger. “You were too obsessed with the idea of returning yourself once again to your human form at the time. When ‘evidence’ arose which could prove that you had never been human but were only a new creature who only had the memories of Alec Holland, we had to take that as an opportunity. And it proved a wise decision. After all, you could now open yourself to new possibilities undreamt of before when you had only thought of this vegetable body of yours as a burden. Jason Woodrue was easily manipulated into coming up with the planarian worm theory, and all it took was the removal of a few conflicting memories in order for you to believe this fiction.”

This was why, he suddenly realized, he had not once recalled the time he had briefly become human once more, or even thought about his lover at the time, Ruth Monroe. “But the apparitions… the ghost of Alec Holland…?”

“Merely illusions,” the Phantom Stranger said as he slowly began to change into appearance to that of the sandy-blond-haired, human Alec Holland, his voice altering slightly as well. “The appearances of the so-called true human soul of Alec Holland as being a completely separate one from your own was the added ‘evidence’ which proved the conclusion you had already been made to believe. We could take no chances that you would once again fritter away your time seeking a cure for your condition.” The Stranger then changed back to his normal form.

“Why? Why was all of this… done to me…?”

“It was for the same reason the third party in our conspiracy of three was brought in,” said the Stranger.

Alec Holland immediately thought of who that must have been. “Constantine…”

“Yes. John Constantine knew that a great evil would be unleashed upon the world, the universe, one which needed to be combatted by everything our world had to throw against it. However, although you were meant to be this world’s erl-king, you had not yet come into your kingship. Something had to be done. As John Constantine led you on what seemed to be a wild goose chase across America, the Parliament of Trees began to lend you their combined power. Within months you came to know abilities that none of the Parliament members had ever individually held in their days of walking. Abilities that elevated your status to that of a god. All of this was necessary so that you would be in top form when the war of darkness and light began as we knew it would. The ultimate darkness was the reason you became what you were.”

“Why, then, was this not… revealed to me… after it was over… and the ultimate darkness defeated?”

“It was intended to be, Alec Holland. It was certainly intended to be. But the ways of men are much quicker than the ways of the trees. Immediately after the war was over, you learned of your lover’s peril in Gotham City and went there to rescue her, only to meet your doom. Or so it had seemed. There was no time for you to learn the truth.”

“We thought you dead,” said one in the Parliament. “Or at least some among us did. But your disappearance was so odd, so unlike anything that had come before, that we were not quite sure what to think. And so we waited. Upon your return to this earth we sensed your presence immediately, and we recalled the power that had been granted to you unawares. Power which you had used wisely out there, as we knew you would.”

“Then… my time on earth is over… My purpose for existence… is complete.”

“Nay! You have not yet begun your life, young one. As we said, you have tasted what it meant to truly be a god, when you have not yet even become a king. You cannot join the Parliament of Trees as one of the honored erl-kings until your appointed reign is over. And you have not yet taken up your kingship.”

“There is nothing… left for me back there… nothing but sorrow…”

“So it was for most of us. So it will be for your successors. But this time is merely a proving ground which every apprentice goes through. You have proven yourself an able student in the past. We hope you will be so once again in order to take up your throne when you are ready. You have a kingdom to rule before you can join us.”

“What kingdom… do you speak of…? As I have seen… the trees, the flowers, the grasses… they do not need to be governed. What need is there… for a king?”

“There are others like you in the world. Many others. Trees awakened into consciousness, as well as former men who have become wood elementals like us.”

“But I… I thought I was the only one… the one wood elemental… designated for the world at this time!”

A low rumbling could be “heard” in the Parliament suddenly, rising in volume and expanding the entire assembly until Holland finally realized that it was nothing less than laughter.

“Is a rock the designated rock of the world? Is an insect the designated insect of the world? Nay, young one. Wood elementals are but a species like any other, its members ranging in rank and ability. Besides the ordinary vegatation of this world, there are princes and princesses, dukes and barons, dryads and wood nymphs and many others, as well as one who may yet become your queen. But there can be only one king. And that is what you must become.

“An entire other world exists alongside that which you knew in your human life. In this supernatural world that which you understand only as magic is everywhere, occasionally permeating the natural world. You have seen this world enter yours at several points in your lifetime. Spirits, demons, vampires, werewolves, dwarves, elves, goblins, satyrs, centaurs, fairies, sprites, brownies, and many other creatures of legend still live, though most have left this realm. You must be aware of them, for your world is as a bridge between theirs and the world of humanity.

“Beware of the dukes and barons who seek to overthrow you, young one, particularly those others who share your youth. Be cautious with them, but know that they, particularly the elder ones, also can teach you what you need to learn. Use what little wisdom you have to distinguish the good teaching from the bad.

“In your absence the green has fallen into disrepair. Many ancient trees once awakened into intelligence have become bent and estranged from us, and many of them have made themselves also the enemy of man. They seek harm to all but themselves. These bent trees need their king to set them right once more. As well, a great evil has entered the wood since you’ve been gone. It seeks to turn all the Green to its own way, and it has succeeded in attracting many followers, disenchanted with the destruction caused by humanity. This evil must not succeed in taking over the kingdom which is rightfully yours, young erl-king.”

The Swamp Thing merely listened as he was told all these things by the Parliament of Trees. And after a few moments of silence, he asked some more questions of his own.

“Tell me, what were those creatures… I met in the swamps… where I died and was reborn? An alligator-creature… giant ants… and others… They were made of plant matter like me… only they were animals.”

“They are your servants.”

“Then why… why did they attack me…?”

“They do not yet recognize you as their king. When you have fully come into your kingship, they will be your faithful subjects. And the swamp in which you were born as a wood elemental shall be your throne, the seat of your kingdom. This is why so many of them have likewise been born in that swamp. It was in anticipation of the coming of the king. Whenever an erl-king is born, his subjects prepare the way for him for the day when he is ready to assume his kingship.

“Young one, you must also seek no longer to become human. Each of us is given one chance, and once chance only, to return to our human form. You were given that chance, and you chose to become a wood elemental once again.”

“But it was not… my choice. It happened… suddenly…”

“You may not know it was your choice, but it was. Did it not happen when the Swamp Thing and not Dr. Alec Holland was needed?”

“Yes… I suppose so…”

“Then that is your answer. Seek not to turn the clock back any longer. You must now look to the future and become the king you were made to be.”

“But I am little… better off than I was… when I first became the Swamp Thing.”

“Your might will grow as you grow into your kingship. You will never again be the wood god you were, but you will become the king of all the woods.”

“What happens… if my body is destroyed…?”

“If your body is beyond repair, you will be able to seek out a new one elsewhere. But it will take time for it to fully grow, as it did the first time you grew a new body. You will no longer be able to shed and create bodies at will like you once were able to, however, nor will you be able to create and control more than one body at a time. That was merely one of the gifts we granted you for a season. As well, your form will remain the size it is until such time as you are ready to retire as king and join us. Your strength will become greater as you learn to wield it. But do not seek power. It shall come to you as needed.”

“How will I… travel? This lumbering body… is slow to move…”

“Young ones always desire speed and quickness. They forget they are no longer human,” one of the members of Parliament said the others.

“Do not worry, young erl-king. The woods hold many secrets. You will soon discover the way the erl-kings of old visited the far reaches of their kingdom. This is one of the skills you must learn.”

“Where shall I… learn these skills from… if not you?”

“There are older wood elementals out there, young one. Some even older than many in the Parliament. Seek them out as your teachers, for they will have much they can teach you. Many of them have served in previous kingdoms as faithful servants of past erl-kings who now reside with us. And they are spread out all over the world. You must travel and find them. Seek out also other young ones like yourself, and tell them that the king has been found and that the kingdom is coming.”

Another one spoke very gravely. “We know also the burden on your heart and the desire you feel for revenge against the men who nearly caused your destruction. Young one, do not become a slave to revenge. For that is the way of man, not wood, and should you give in to revenge, it will prove your undoing.”

The Swamp Thing lowered his eyes. He had wanted to immediately seek out and destroy the men in the DDI who had been responsible for his near-destruction and who caused him to flee the earth well over a year ago. Now, however, those desires seemed so very small and petty to him. Had he forgotten the strong belief in never taking human life he had once held? This was another thing that had changed when he had been tricked into believing he had himself never been human. Sunderland had been the first man he had ever killed, but he had only killed the Brujería since then, as it was necessary to put an end to their evil. But why would be want to stain his hands further with the blood of other villains, thereby reducing himself to their level? He raised his eyes as the Parliament spoke their final words to him.

“You are now merely a student, a novice. You must become a master. You were briefly made a god, but you must now learn to be a king.”

The Swamp Thing found himself suddenly back in the grove where the younger erl-kings were at rest, and he opened his eyes. He had been told many things this day, yet what he had been told raised many more questions. When he had arrived here, his future looked so bleak that he was willing to leave the world of humanity and join the Parliament of Trees and rest in the Green. However, now that he fully knew what — and who — he really was, his future was replete with endless possibilities.

“The Parliament… has spoken…” Alex Olsen, the original Swamp Thing, said as he had once said almost two years past. “I trust that you… have found the answers… you were seeking?”

“Yes, and more… But I am not sure… what I should do with them.”

“Do the same as I did… more than seventy years ago… and seek out others of your own kind… some as allies and some… as teachers. And beware those… who seek your overthrow.”

Alec Holland turned and walked out of the grove, where John Constantine and Ace Morgan of the Challengers of the Unknown were awaiting his return. The small band of Indian warriors who were keeping a close eye on them bowed reverently as the Swamp Thing passed them.

“Well?” said Constantine. “Did you have another interestin’ session with your mates?”

“One could say so…” said the Swamp Thing. “I also learned… of the conspiracy… and the part you played in it…”

“Hey, mate, it weren’t my idea,” John Constantine said, looking defensive. “It was a necessary thing that had to be done, but it was the Stranger who put me up to it.”

“Don’t worry, Constantine… I may not be happy… having been a pawn in this game… but the past is past… and I finally know who… and what… I really am.”

“Good to hear, but aren’t you going to tell us anythin’ about it? Don’t keep a bloke in suspense.”

“The words spoken in Parliament… are words meant for erl-king ears only.”

“Oh, so that’s the way it is, then? Mum’s the word, is it? Fine thing. I’d ask the Stranger about it, but knowin’ him, he’s got tighter lips than you have.”

“Ease off, John,” said Ace. “Dr. Holland — er, I should say, Swamp Thing — what do you plan on doing now?”

“I’m not sure… but I would appreciate… a ride back to Louisiana… and please… call me Alec…”

“Consider it done, Alec,” smiled Ace. The three rejoined the other Challs at the jet, and the group was soon gone.

Chapter Thirteen

The Challenger Jet arrived back in the same field outside Houma, Louisiana which the group had left that morning. It was now late evening.

“The offer is still open, Alec,” said Ace Morgan as he shook the swamp creature’s hand, a most human gesture. “You’re welcome to join our number for as long as you wish to.”

The Swamp Thing smiled his strange smile at the four men who awaited his answer. “That is… a most gracious offer, Challengers… but I believe I must now… challenge the unknown… on my own.” He paused for a moment. “You will see me… again soon, though… that is a promise.”

Rocky Davis walked up to Swamp Thing and shook his hand as well, giving him a quick nod. Red Ryan followed suit. Prof Haley took the Swamp Thing’s hand also and shook it, giving him a serious look of admiration.

“I’ll never forget how you saved my life all those years ago, Dr. Holland,” said Prof. “Know that you’ll always have my — our — assistance whenever you need it.”

“Likewise…” replied the creature. He watched as the four men turned and went back into their jet and quickly flew away westwardly, as if into the stars themselves. The Challengers of the Unknown, while their adventures had not been very public for some time now, were legends in their time. They were respected by all for their skills and effectiveness like few other non-powered heroes were. And while their glory days were behind them, they were most certainly not ready to throw in the towel. The Swamp Thing knew that he would see them again soon.

The only one that remained was John Constantine. “Don’t let me hold you up, mate,” he said to the swamp creature, who nodded appreciatively and walked away. “Poor bastard,” Constantine mumbled under his breath as he watched him move out of view.

“I hope that we have done the right thing,” said a voice behind him.

“Hm? Oh, sure, sure, Stranger,” said Constantine. “Abby was holdin’ the swamp creature back. The only way to free them both was to give ‘er hubbie a nudge in the right direction. Better that ‘e gets his heart broken sooner than later.”

“True,” said the Phantom Stranger. “And Matthew Cable’s ability to make his dreams come true has been made more… bearable for him, and for his bride. He will no longer succumb to the temptations once presented to him by his power. Matthew and Abigail Cable will prove a formidable team now, like they had never been before.”

“What do you think will become of the swamp creature, though? He was really in love with that bird.”

“I suspect as you do, Constantine, that he will finally find his true destiny. And his true queen.”

“We can only hope,” the Englishman said as he extinguished yet another cigarette on the ground. “Say, stranger, can I bum a fag?” He turned to look at the Phantom Stranger, but the figure had already gone. “Humph. You’re not the only one who can pull that disappearing act,” he said to no one in particular. And if anyone were to look over that wide, flat field at that moment, no one would have been seen…

***

The Swamp Thing wandered back into the old bog where he and Abby had spent so many spring and summer days together two years previously. Where they had first expressed their feelings for each other and made love in their own unique way. It was hard to say goodbye to all those memories. But he knew he needed to. His fortunes had truly been reversed upon his return to Earth, in more ways than one, and a new chapter in his life was just about to begin. It was time to say goodbye and turn the page on this chapter, and everything that went along with it.

“Goodbye… Abby…”

The swamp creature which had once been Dr. Alec Holland slowly walked into the bog, submerging himself underneath the surface of the water. Here, suspended under water, he was free. Here he felt as if he belonged to the world. That was no surprise considering that he had been reborn in this form underwater in a bog very much like this one. It was more than that, though. He was the master of this domain. Not like a god of power with control over everything green around him, no, but like a king who commanded respect from all living creatures. He had long ago realized that he did not need to breathe air as he did when he was human; as a form of plant-life he received oxygen in other ways, even while underwater.

The Swamp Thing remained beneath the surface for several hours, until the break of dawn shed its light over the good earth, breaking through the surface of the water and creating shafts of crystal and pearl to greet him. Life was in evidence all around him, and he knew it was truly good to be alive. He also knew that it was time to leave. This had been his way of saying goodbye.

He began to rise to the surface, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow across the water. He moved to avoid it but stopped as he heard a familiar voice call out to him:

“Alec? Alec, are you out there? It’s me… Abby.”

Abigail Cable stopped and listened, trying to see a familiar figure among the shadows of foliage and trees. Nothing. Why did she think she would be able to find him here, now, anyways? She knew he was coming back soon, but why did she think he would be back now? She called again, “Alec! Alec, where are–”

“I’m here, Abby…”

Abby turned, startled by the voice behind her. It was him. She had not seen him for almost a year-and-a-half. “Oh, Alec!” she squealed as she ran to him and embraced him with a hug. “I knew you were coming back. I knew it.” She squeezed him tightly as she kept her eyes closed for that long moment. Then she let go of him and stood back. Although she found it difficult to do so, she forced herself to look him in the eyes.

His dark, expressive red eyes told her a million tales. In them she saw understanding and wisdom gained from worlds beyond this one. And pain. Deep, deep, pain that had always been within him but had resurfaced. She did not want to speak, but she knew she had to.

“Somehow, I… somehow, I think you already know what I’m going to say.”

“Abby, you don’t have to… I… understand,” Alec said. “Matt is… very lucky to have you.”

She looked in his sad eyes and then turned away, tears welling up in her own. “Oh, Alec. I wish things were different. I wish… I didn’t have to hurt you like this, I–”

“Shh… shh, it’s all… right, Abby…”

“It’s not all right. Alec, I-I love you. I still do.”

“But…”

“But… I love him, too. And he needs me, now more than ever. If you could see him now, Alec, he’s changed. He’s like the man I married again, except… better. He’s somehow gained wisdom while he was in that coma. Something happened to him, I don’t know exactly what, but he’s not the alcoholic he was when everything went so wrong back then. And the thing is… I need him, too. I never realized how much I did until now.” She stopped and looked up at him, tears streaming from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Alec. I’m so sorry.”

Alec brushed the tears on her cheek away with one finger and smiled gently. “It’s all right, Abby… I am… glad that you two have finally… found happiness in each other. And I am glad… for the few brief moments… of our own happiness… as well.”

“I will never forget you, Alec. And I will… always love you.”

No more words were spoken. No more needed to be. The swamp creature who had been Alec Holland leaned down just as Abigail Arcane Cable reached up, and the two kissed one last time. It was not a wild kiss of passion as their last kiss had been, nor was it an awkward kiss like their first. It was a kiss of remembrance of lost love, a kiss borne of mature decision and thinly veiled regret, a kiss different from that which they had waited for during all those months of separation. It was a kiss of farewell for departing lovers.

They parted from each other for the last time, gazing at each other one last time before moving on with their own lives. They did not say goodbye to each other, but parted in silence.

The Swamp Thing turned away as Abby Cable walked back towards her car and her waiting husband and he could see her no longer. Then he turned and walked determinedly into the deep swamp. For better or for worse, his new life had begun.

First Epilogue

“You should’a seen ‘im, Uncle Jeff! He was huge! And his skin was all green and slimy an’ stuff. Darryl almost wet his pants when he posed for the camera. Too bad there wasn’t any film in it, though.”

“Omarr!” said his mother sternly. “How many times have I told you not to make up stories?”

“But mom–!”

“It’s all right, Rashaundra,” said Jeff. “I’m interested in this kinda stuff.” He smiled at his sister, who returned his smile with a disapproving glare, which he typically ignored. “Go on, Omie. I’d like to hear more of this… Swamp Man.”

“Jefferson Bolt!” Rashaundra said sternly. “Could I see you in the living room for one second?”

“Rash, we’re in the middle of supper here…”

“Now, Jeff!”

Jefferson Bolt winked at Omarr and caught a knowing smile from his brother-in-law, Jamar, as he left the table. They both knew better than to cross that hot-tempered sister of his in her own home.

As soon as he went into the living room, his sister tore into him. “Jeff, how many times have I told you to stop fillin’ that boy’s head with all this monster nonsense? Do you think I want him to turn into you when he grows up? I don’t know why I even let you come by for dinner all the times I do, for all the thanks I get! If you’re gonna eat supper with my family under my roof, you’d better stick with my rules! Honestly, Jeff, if mom were here she’d–”

“She’d probably say just the right thing to calm us all down,” Jeff said, laughing.

“Do you think this is funny? If you think this is funny, mister, you can tow your–”

“No, Rash, of course not. Sorry once again. I’m just doing my part to broaden the boy’s horizons, is all.”

“Well, save it for after supper! And speaking of supper, it’s getting cold, so you’d better get back in there and finish it. But no more of this monster nonsense!”

“As you say, sister,” said Jeff, kissing her on her forehead despite her fiery temper. She shook her head and went back into the kitchen and the dinner table.

So the Swamp Thing was alive, after all. And he was back in Louisiana, at least for now. Well, when he got back to work on Monday, the first thing Jefferson Bolt would do is reopen the file on his old “friend.” He had a feeling his employer would be very interested in this piece of information.

Second Epilogue

In a remote glade in Florida there was an old farm which had been converted into a commune back in the early 1970s. At this commune had congregated a ragged handful of hippies left over from the 1960s who wanted to drop out of the society which had tried to co-opt and change them. This hippie community had remained a small one with a few unconventional families and a small farming operation to support them. That is, until just over two years ago, when the Emissary arrived.

Ever since their Emissary had been brought to them from the cold, northern city of Gotham, the community had grown quickly, doubling and tripling in only a few short months as the word spread. A New Age-type cult began to be formed as the Emissary had been sown in the rich chernozem soil and began slowly growing, first to the size it had originally been and then to almost twice that size. Many of the new converts had come from Gotham City as well, since the faddish cult nicknamed “The Swampies” — worshippers of the Swamp Thing — had begun to decline in the swamp creature’s absence.

Each and every night the “Grundies,” as they unofficially called themselves, would hold a ceremony of fertility before the large pod which grew in the sacred plot in the farm. This huge pod in which the Emissary had grown to its present size was similar in appearance to a cabbage, except the stalk was much paler in color, and the leaves completely encasing the Emissary were of a rich, dark green color.

The Grundies had conducted mating rituals before the Emissary, producing several children in the process. These children were considered sacred by the cult, and they intended to raise these babies as priests and priestesses of this new religion as they grew older.

Something was different in the air of late, however. Everyone could feel that something would soon happen. Thus, the fertility ceremonies had been stepped up to run almost 24 hours each and every day for the last few weeks. It was hoped that the Emissary would soon burst from his pod, reborn, and grace them with his wisdom.

The Grundies chanted the sacred verse over and over as they prayed for this day of reckoning to come:

“Solomon Grundy,
Born on Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday:
This is the end
Of Solomon Grundy.”

But of course they knew the secret of the Emissary, that he would rise ever more…

Third Epilogue

Elsewhere, in a dark, murky wood, a shadow passed between ancient trees gnarled by age towards its destination. In this wood no birds could be seen or heard, nor could squirrels, raccoons, or deer be spotted anywhere within its boundaries. For this was an enchanted forest, one filled with trees corrupted by age and ever-present darkness due to the thick canopy above. This wood had a reputation for miles around as one in which several people had gotten lost over the years and were never seen again.

It had recently taken up a new occupant, however, one which was as old as the eldest trees in the wood. It was towards this newcomer that this dark spirit passed as a messenger.

“My lord,” it said in a voice which was not unlike the hissing of water passing through a pipe as it approached its master in an appropriately subservient manner. “The erl-king has taken to wandering once more. And he is alone.”

The dark lord before him turned with a scowl. “Call him not king, slave.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” the shadow squealed in fright. “For you are truly the rightful one king of the wood.”

The dark lord of the wood was no longer listening to the sniveling little messenger, but instead his heart was turned upon his plan of domination. It was true that he had gained much ground in the erl-king’s absence, but the best laid plans of men and gods often go awry. The Swamp Thing would bear watching if Blackbrian Thorn were to regain all that he had lost in his long absence from this world.

The End