Just a Story
The Work of Heroes
by Immortalwildcat
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 1
Upstate New York, 1961.
“Hey, Mickey! You coming out, or what?”
“Hold on a sec, Jimmy! I’ll be right out!” Mickey Steuben leaned out his window long enough to wave to Jimmy Feeney, then ducked back inside. He grabbed the big paper bag from under his bed and ran downstairs. “I’m going out, Mom! Be back in a while!”
“Be back here for lunch, Mickey. Tuna sandwiches and tomato soup. Have fun.”
Out on the sidewalk, he met up with his best friend. “Wait’ll you see what I did, Jimmy. This is gonna be so cool!”
Reaching for Mickey’s bag, Jimmy’s hand was brushed away. “What is it? C’mon.”
“Not till we get to the clubhouse. I want everyone to see it at once.” Mickey smiled mysteriously behind his Coke-bottle glasses.
A few minutes later, a rag-tag group assembled in a plywood and tar-paper shack near the riverfront. A round table, mounted on the huge spool left over from stringing new telephone lines, sat in the middle of the room. Painted dark brown, it was emblazoned with a crudely painted shield of red white and blue.
“I hearby call this meeting of the Justice Society of America to order,” intoned Jimmy in a solemn voice. “Roll call!”
To his right sat a short, stocky boy, his face covered by a dark blue pillowcase that had been cut to trail down his back in a makeshift cape. “The Atom!” he cried, raising his hands up to flex his biceps.
Next was a skinny boy in a yellow T-shirt, with a cut-off purple Tupperware bowl over his head. He raised a plastic water-pistol packed with dirt and spoke in a high voice. “The Sandman!”
The room’s sole girl was next, a skinny blonde girl in a short black jacket, busy un-knotting the ribbons holding her hair in pigtails. “Black Canary here!”
The next spot was empty. Mickey moved back into the shadowy corner as the roll-call started. Now he moved forward, a black hood covering his head. Set into the front of the hood were a pair of lenses similar to those in his regular glasses. “Doctor Mid-Nite, ready for action, sir!”
“Wow, where did you get that, Mickey?” asked Jimmy, donning a metal pie plate on his head. A pair of plastic wings, cut from some long-forgotten toy, were glued to the pie plate. “Oh, the Flash, chairman of the JSA.”
“I made it. I got new glasses last week, and my dad had this hood from a Halloween costume. I thought it would look right.”
“Yeah!”
“All right!”
“Good work, Mickey!”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 2
“OK, now that we’re all here, are there any cases we need to take care of?” asked the young, make-believe Flash.
Rummaging in a box, Dan Calhoun pulled out a rumpled comic book and held it up.
“Yes, Sandman. You have information about a villain on the loose?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Chairman.” He thumbed through the pages. “It’s the Fiddler, and he’s teamed up with the Shade. They’re planning to hold up the bank on Second Street.”
“I say we go and get them!” shouted the Atom. “We’ll teach them not to mess around in our town.”
“Agreed,” said Jimmy Feeney, nodding his head. “Let’s go!”
As one, the twelve-year-olds rose to their feet, and dashed outside to their bikes. Capes fluttered behind them and playing cards clipped to bicycle forks clattered over the spokes as they sped to the scene of the imagined crime. As they passed through the heart of town, they were stopped by Officer Muldoon.
“Ahhh, my best helpers! Where’s the crime today, heroes?” he asked, pushing his cap back on his balding head.
“At the First United Bank, Officer. Send the squad car by, we’ll have the criminals wrapped up and waiting for you,” answered Cassie Weeks, tugging the sleeve of her jacket back down.
“I’ll do that. Give ‘em a wallop for me, will ya?” He waved as they rode off with Andy Jensen bringing up the rear. He wiped the sweat from his face as he walked toward the Police Station. He was stopped by Neil Griffin.
“What was that all about, Eddie? Trouble?”
“No, no trouble at all. Last summer, I was cleaning my garage and came across a box of old comics. Remember when they used to do those funny books with made-up stories about the Justice Society and those other heroes? There were a bunch of those in there, and I gave them to Jimmy and the others. They’ve been playing hero ever since. Good thing, since nobody’s seen much of the real Justice Society for ten years or so.”
“True. Still, don’t you think they’ll get hurt, running around wild like that?” asked the concerned, older man.
“Worst thing they’ve had is a skinned knee. Just kid’s play, Neil.”
And all summer long, and into the fall, it continued. Meetings were held, lawbreakers were apprehended, and worlds were saved. By the time the snow melted the following spring, however, dreams of action were giving way to other dreams, and the box of comics sat in the dilapidated clubhouse, forgotten by all. But not for all time.
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 3
Upstate New York, twenty-five years later.
He sat in an office, reviewing a proposed state law. Adorning the walls were photographs of himself with local figures of note: the Mayor, the County Controller, the Governor. One section of a wall was reserved for a trophy case, with several state track and field trophies prominently displayed. And in one spot, all by itself, was a faded photo of four young boys and a young girl, taken on a long-ago summer day.
“Jim? Your wife is on the line,” said a voice from the intercom on his desk.
“Hiya, honey. What’s up?” he asked as he picked up the line. The conversation was short, the affection obvious. In the doorway, his secretary smiled.
When he hung up, he noticed her. “What’s that smile for, Linda?”
“Nothing. Just hearing you talk to her, making plans for the kids. It’s wonderful seeing someone with a happy home life for a change.”
“Hey, that’s the way it’s supposed to be, isn’t it? Just don’t let me forget, I have to get out of here by 3:30 to pick up the kids.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Happy Father Feeney. I won’t forget. Now, about that gambling law…”
Four hours later, State Senator James Feeney left his office and headed for his childrens’ school. He was whistling as he walked up to the building, but stopped when the doors opened and two State Troopers walked out towards him. “Senator Feeney?”
“That’s me. Is there a problem, Officers?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 4
“Kidnapped! I can’t believe it! How could this have happened?” Melissa Feeney’s face was cradled in her hands, her husband’s arm over her shoulders.
“Don’t worry, dear. The troopers have their best men checking the schoolyard for clues, and the experts say that the kidnappers will probably contact us within a few hours.”
As if on cue, the phone rang. A police officer indicated to Jim that they were recording the call, and he picked it up.
“Hello. Feeney here.”
“I figured you would be. You know why I’m calling, right?” The voice was forced, uneven.
“You have my daughters.” It wasn’t a question.
“Damned right I do, and if you want them back, you better get those cops off the line.” The recording officer signaled to another, who lowered a receiver that he had lifted at the same time as Jim. The recording equipment was linked directly to the line, and was not interrupted.
“Now, here’s the deal,” the voice continued after hearing the click on the line. “I figure you must have money to spare, if you can spend your time making up new laws and taxes for us poor common folk. Now it’s time to share the wealth.”
“How much?” asked Jim.
“A quarter million. You’ll take it to the park down by the river. Tomorrow afternoon, between two and three. And if I see, hear or smell anything that makes me think of a cop, you can bury your little girls together. You got it?”
“Understood. You have my word.”
“No, these little girls are depending on your word.” The conversation ended.
Cradling the phone, Senator Feeney looked at the gathered officers. “Any luck?”
“We have a trace,” replied one. “Public phone, corner of State and Third. We have three cars on the way.”
“No! If he spots the police, he’ll kill them! Just get a description.”
The officer spoke into his radio, then looked up. “Two plainclothes cops have already spotted him. They’re following at a distance, but he’s walking down to the subway now.” He paused, listening to the report coming in over his headphones. “No good, he slipped into a train and it left before they could get on.”
“Let him go. I’ll pay the ransom,” said the Senator. And maybe bring some unofficial help along while I’m at it, he thought to himself.
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 5
Daniel Calhoun sat in his darkened study, hands steepled in front of him, listening to his old friend on the speakerphone.
“I don’t know, Dan, maybe I’m a little crazy. When that creep mentioned the park by the river, the idea just came to me. We know that area better than anybody, and maybe, just maybe, the five of us could catch him when I make the money drop.”
“Jim, we knew that area a quarter of a century ago. We were just a bunch of crazy kids, running around. There’s no telling what we could run into down there now, since the city bulldozed everything and replanted it for the park.”
“Dan, I was on the City Council when that park was built. It wasn’t bulldozed. They just widened the open area leading down to the river. But the rise back behind the old clubhouse is still there, and I think the old cave system is still there, too.”
“Hmm, if we could get in there, it might just work. He said two o’clock tomorrow, right? He’ll probably have an eye on it for a couple hours before. Maybe the rest of us could camp out in those caves tonight.” Dan’s eyes lit up at the idea of a night in the old caves. Life in the chemistry lab had left him little time for wilderness adventures, though he still kept in shape playing tennis and golf. “I’ve got a couple of items in my lab at work that I can pick up, and maybe provide a surprise or two.”
“Great! Can I have the others meet you at your place? He’s probably got an eye on my house tonight.”
“Of course. And I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 6
Mick Steuben’s office in the West Side Medical Center was a reflection of the eclectic interests of its inhabitant. The walls are adorned with photos of birds, and several stuffed specimens as well. Directly over his desk a large owl hung, wings flattened against its body, apparently diving for the in-box on the desk. Among the photos were a few personal ones, including one of a much younger Steuben with two blonde gentlemen, one of them wearing dark glasses.
“Jimmy, you caught me just in time. I just got out of surgery on an operation just like the McNider process that Dr. Nelson used on me when I was in high school. Damn, that’s exhausting, but I think this kid’s going to recover his full vision.”
“Just like you did, eh? That’s great, Mick! I’ve got to admit, I always admired the way you went into eye surgery after Nelson saved your own vision. But I didn’t call to praise your surgical abilities, old friend. I need your help.”
“My help? For what?”
“Maybe I should say, I need the help of your old alter-ego.”
“Oh my God! What’s going on, Jim?”
“You haven’t heard? The girls got kidnaped. The guy will be watching for cops, but not for a gang of old friends who know the drop-off area better than anyone.”
“Ohhh, tell me more. I think I’m going to like this.”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 7
Neil Griffen had just gotten home from the college when Jim Feeney’s call came. However, he had already heard about the kidnapping from a radio newscast on his way home.
“Jim! I didn’t expect to hear from you right now. How are you and Melissa holding up?”
“As well as can be expected, Neil. The doctor has given Missy something to help her sleep, but I’m not letting him near me. I need to ask a favor of you.”
“You name it, buddy! You need help with the ransom money?” In addition to teaching, Professor Griffen had published several books on the psychological effects of body type and shape, his personal area of expertise after growing up to be all of five feet, two inches tall.
“No, though I appreciate the offer. Actually, I was thinking along the lines of a little more personal involvement. The drop-off is at the riverside park, down where we used to spend all our time. I already talked to Dan and Mick, and their game for trying to catch this guy. How about you?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I’m in! Are you figuring to bring Cassie in on this, too?”
“She’d probably clean my clock if I didn’t. You want to take care of asking her?”
“Of course. Where and when are we meeting?”
“Dan’s gathering everyone at his house tonight. We thought it would be a good idea to camp everyone out in the old caves, and catch this guy by surprise tomorrow afternoon. Except for me, of course. I’m making the money drop.”
“That should be good. Gonna give him a run for his money, Flash?”
At the other end of the line, Senator James Feeny smiled. “Just what I had in mind.”
Neil hung up the phone, and walked down to his basement. There, the heavy bass beat of a workout tape was almost deafening. His wife saw him come in, and broke off her routine to come over and wrap her arms around him. “You’ve got a big grin, dear. What’s the secret?”
He kissed his wife, and reached up to run his hands through her long blonde hair. “Jim Feeney just called. Looks like the Justice Society is needed once again, Cassie.”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 8
Sunrise came late to the westward-facing caves in a hillside overlooking the Hudson River. Within one of the caves, four figures in sleeping bags stirred, each moaning about the hard ground beneath them.
“OK, OK, I know. It sounded like a good idea at the time, though, you have to admit.” Dan Calhoun clambered out of the sleeping back, bumping his head on the low ceiling. “I also forgot that these caves would have shrunk as we grew up.” He rubbed his head with a sheepish grin.
“Hey, admit it. We’ve been spoiled, gang. We should have done something like this years ago, just to keep in the spirit of things,” said a still sleepy Cassie Griffen. She nudged the bag next to her. “Neil! Remind me to start checking state parks with campgrounds when we get back. I think I’d like to spend a few nights with you out under the stars.”
“Hey! No need to advertise like that, hun!” Neil’s balding head popped out of the sleeping bag. “And no beaches, all right? I hear the water at night, it brings back bad memories of my days in the Navy.”
“OK, baby.” Cassie bent over to kiss his forehead. “Hey, Mickey! You alive there?”
“Yeah, though I wouldn’t vouch for my back.” Mickey sat up in the back, and the cracking of his back was audible to all of them. “Man, my chiropractor is gonna shoot me for this!”
“So, Danny, what’s the plan? Any ideas on how we can handle this chump when he comes for the money?” asked Neil.
“A couple of ideas, and a couple of treats from the lab that might help out.” Dan pulled an oversized pistol from a leather backpack. “I put this together a couple of years ago, when I was waxing nostalgic for our days of adventure down here.”
“Oh, God, is that a gas gun?”
“Yep.” The chemist’s face broke into a wide grin. “I couldn’t resist. And these are for you, Mickey.”
“You didn’t!” Mickey took a pair of glass balls, in which he could see a swirling mass of black chemicals. “Are they…?”
“You got it. Blackout bombs. Break one open, and you’ll get a cloud of black smoke, about twenty feet in diameter. The State Police started using them last year for drug busts. I don’t know how long it will last outdoors, though.”
“Oh, I almost forgot, Cassie.” Her husband pulled an odd, oversized bracelet from his overnight bag. “Professor Marks was doing some experiments with sound, and it reminded me of the stories I heard two years ago about your hero returning with some kind of sonic cry.” He placed the bracelet on Cassie’s wrist, and pointed out a stud on one side of it. “Press that, and it emits an ultrasound pulse. This one has been modified so it’s in the range of human hearing. We’ll all want these earplugs that the Professor gave me, or we’ll be puking our guts out.”
“Oh, honey, how sweet!”
“And me, I’ll just rely on brute force, as always. Now, how well does anyone remember the lay of the land here?”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 9
Senator James Feeney entered Riverside Park, a metal briefcase in his hand. He walked slowly, as if waiting for a sign. Looking at the hill leading up to a playground, he spotted an area of grass that appeared to have been cut just a bit lower than that around it, in the shape of a lightning bolt. He knew the direction he would be going when the action started.
He walked around for half an hour. There were few other people in the park. At the river, he saw a couple walking, hand in hand. Up near the playground, a tall, thin man tightened bolts on the jungle gym. A short, heavy-set caretaker ran a lawnmower on the other side of the park.
At two-thirty, another figure entered the park. He walked directly toward Feeney, a determined look on his face. As he got closer, the Senator realized that the look was frozen there: the man was wearing a life-like rubber mask.
“Nice to see you can follow orders when your family is at stake, Senator. Too bad you couldn’t have followed the mandates of the people.”
“The people elected me to use my judgement. Disagreeing with me doesn’t give you the right to terrorize my family,” said Feeney in a cold hard voice as he started to hand over the briefcase.
“Hey, it’s gonna make me rich, so why not?”
“Because it’s not that easy, creep!” Feeney yanked the case back, and took off at a run toward the playground.
“Hey, come back here!” The kidnapper started after him, not noticing the other figures converging on the playground at the same time.
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 10
Jim Feeney slung the briefcase over his shoulder, letting it hang by its shoulder strap as he ran. The extra weight was hardly an impediment as he picked up speed going up the rise toward the playground. Fifteen years of first practicing, then making law had not dimmed the joy he once found in running, and despite the circumstances, this was just another excuse to stretch his legs and let the wind carry him. Behind him, the kidnapper had started giving chase, then thought better of it. He stopped, pulling a pistol with a silencer attached to the barrel from his jacket. “Go ahead, I’ll take the money from your dead body, then go back and kill your girls!” he shouted as he started to take aim.
Not too far away, the walking couple had stopped their stroll in the park. The woman had whipped off her scarf, and was holding it between her outstretched arms as she knelt before the man. He had taken a small ball from her purse, and placed it at the midpoint of the spread scarf. Taking aim, he let fly, sending the globe hurtling at the gunman. He hardly noticed it striking the ground before him, until it sent up a billowing cloud of black smoke that obscured his sight.
“What the devil?” he cried out, windmilling his arms to disperse the smoke. As it cleared, he saw the couple closing from one side, as the maintenance man dashed down the hill at him, joined by his target. He paused for a second, unsure which one to shoot first as he sensed his plan falling apart. During the delay, the tall blonde woman raised her hands in front of her, and he was suddenly struck by a wall of sound. It drove him to his knees, even as he squeezed the trigger.
“Cassie!” shouted Mick, as the bullet struck her shoulder and knocked her to the ground. He bent down to help her as Dan and Jim reached the felon. Confusion ensued as Dan tried to drag the man to his feet while Jim attempted to knock him to the ground.
Amid the confusion, nobody noticed the loud roar of a riding lawnmower approaching through the semi-darkness left by the blackout bomb. At least, not until Neil Griffen launched his short, stout frame from the still-moving tractor. He careened into the kidnapper, knocking the wind from him and laying him out on the grass. “That’s my wife, you bastard!” he cried as his beefy fist slammed into the criminal’s face, knocking him unconscious.
“Neil, don’t worry, baby! It just grazed me,” said Cassie as she rose to her feet, leaning on Mick Steuben. “Good thing I was teamed up with the Doc, you know?”
“Right, honey.” Neil enfolded his wife in his arms, looking around to make sure the others were all right. “Nice sprinting there, Flash. Looks like you’ve still got the old pepper!”
“I’ll take running for office over running for my life, any day. Now, how do we find out where my girls are?”
“I think I can help there, Jim,” said Dan Calhoun, crouching over the unmoving kidnapper. “But you better tie him up, first.”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 11
Dan Calhoun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ampule. He broke it in half, waving the ends under the kidnapper’s nose. The man became awake, coughing and choking.
“Want to tell us where we can pick up a couple of young ladies?” asked the tall, thin chemist.
“Go to hell! The only way you find out where they are is when I’m on a plane heading out of the country!”
“I don’t think so,” replied Calhoun, pulling the ungainly pistol from the improvised holster on his belt.
“What the–? No! You ain’t gonna kill me, are ya?” The criminal struggled within his bonds, squirming over the ground as best he could to get away from the weapon.
“No, nothing so permanent, though it wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Dan pulled the trigger, and a cloud of gas issued from the gun with a soft hiss. The kidnapper tried to hold his breath and wait it out, but as soon as the initial cloud started to drift away on the breeze, Dan fired again, and the stubborn criminal was left with no choice but to breath in the gas. “Hold him up, it may make him a little dizzy.”
Feeney reached out to grab the terrorist by the shoulders. “Now, where are my daughters?” asked the Senator.
“My house. Corner of Porter Street and Grand Avenue, number 872. They’re tied up in the basement,” mumbled the gassed felon. Mick pulled out a cellular phone and called the police, giving them the information.
“I don’t get it, Dan. I thought that was going to knock him out,” said Neil.
“I never said it was sleeping gas. I charged it with sodium pentothal. A gaseous form of truth serum.” Dan smiled. “I figured it would be more useful, especially with all of you around here to take care of knocking him out.”
THE WORK OF HEROES: Part 12
Three nights after the rescue of Jim Feeney’s daughters, the five mystery-man-wanna-be’s gathered again. This time, it was around the dinner table in Neil and Cassie Griffen’s home overlooking the Hudson River.
“I have to say, guys and gal, that it was great getting together again, even considering the horrible circumstances of it. We should have done this a long time ago.” Dan Calhoun raised his glass in salute to his friends and comrades-in-arms.
“Hey, the real JSA got back together, why shouldn’t we?” grinned Neil. “Maybe we could get us a young, busty gal like they did, too!” He ducked as Cassie tossed a dinner roll at him.
“Maybe we could get together on a regular basis? Maybe every month or so. Just to sit around and swap tall tales,” suggested Mick. “I know I’d be glad to do it.”
“Sure, and we’ve got room here,” added Cassie. “Better than crawling around in a ramshackle clubhouse.”
“Very true, but I think it needs something,” said Jim with a pensive look on his face. “I think I know what it is, though. Hang on a moment.” He rose from his seat and walked out the door, and they heard the front door open and close. Nobody said anything, they simply looked at each other with puzzled looks on their faces until he returned, with a large, flat object under his arm. “See, when they were clearing the land for the park down there, I came across something. I tucked it in my garage, a little memento of the old days.” He pulled it out, and turned it so they could all see the round piece of plywood.
Still faintly visible on the cracked and peeling brown-painted surface was a crudely-drawn shield, in red, white and blue, with gold letters spelling out, “The Justice Society of America”.
