by Josh Blackmon 

From the small merchant ship the Carolosian she stepped off the dock to the overwhelming smell of fish, her petite gloved hand swatted at one of several flies buzzing around her face. She hated flies and all ready she hated this place. She knew her pale skin would not fair well in this climate and she could feel the moisture literally being baked from her lips. Not that it surprised her that this is where he would run to, he loved places like this. A remote corner of the world. To him this was some kind of self inflicted exile paradise. To her it was a hell-hole.

The sand gave way under her high heeled shoes as she stumbled awkwardly towards the car that was waiting for her.

Irene Norris, stood out like a sore thumb in her grey herringbone suit and that hideous bright blue hat she had bought on the last Sunday afternoon they had spent together before the world had turned to shit. In all truthfulness it hadn't been that long ago that he had left but it felt like a lifetime.

The last four years had been anything but easy, but she really couldn't complain. "If it bleeds, it leads" and she had managed to get her byline on almost every tragedy that had occurred in the wake of his absence. She would often clip out one of the more gruesomely detailed stories, it was her own sort of sick perversion. Stories like those didn't come along when he was around. She now had those same article clippings tucked into her bag, she intended on using them as a launching pad for her request.

The car ride was bumpy to say the least, and an uneasy feeling began to set in. In fact she had started to theorize that maybe she had been kidnapped by bandits thirty-two minutes into the ride. She had reached into her bag cautiously and found a metal hair pin. She would use it as a dagger, fight her way out if it came down to it. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been in a sticky situation. It would not be her last. When the car finally pulled to a stop an hour later at a rundown gin soaked excuse for a bar she felt a split second of relief before she got a knot in her stomach and realized that it was him. She could see him sitting across the patio chatting with another man.

She stepped out of the car and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. She crossed over until she was only a few feet behind him. "God it was dry here," she licked her lips and tried to moisten her throat so she could speak without her voice cracking. A sign of weakness and fear that at this point she could not afford.

"I thought I'd find you here," she had heard it said in a picture show once, she even mimicked the tone and inflection, it felt good, it felt right. She was empowered.

He didn't even turn around

"A return address is funny like that," he came back flatly.

He was right.

It was actually his occasional letters that had given her his location. It was a secret she kept. It made her feel powerful to be the only person in the world to know where he had gone. But at the moment his apathetic attitude had flustered her. It wasn't going at all how she had rehearsed it in her head, she stumbled over her thoughts trying to find something witty, something to put him in his place, she choked out only a name.

"Valor"

With that he turned to her slowly, "I don't go by that anymore"

That had gotten his attention. His voice was steady, but it was hurt.

"Freddie"

She had him now, even if it was by accident. "Recover. You are here for a reason," she thought.

"Freddie we need you"

The man sitting across from Freddie sensing it would be a good time to relieve himself went to stand up but Freddie motioned for him to sit down. Donovan Deitrich sat back down. Of course he was curious about the confrontation between the strangely intoxicating American woman and Fred. Fred had been living with him now for several years and he still had no reason as to what had brought his half-brother to his door so late that evening in August. Donovan hadn't even seen his brother since they were children. A holiday and birthday telegram were exchanged with some regularity, but when Freddie had shown up at his door he barely even recognized him. Furthermore no one ever just stops by in this region of the world. It was part of its mystique. Donovan had never asked. And he wouldn't. But he was curious never-the-less. And now he'd been invited to stay.

"You hadn't needed me in four years," Freddie was angry.

"We were foolish. I was foolish." She had by this point went off script and hated herself for being honest. She hated herself even more realizing she actually was being honest with herself now.

"I'm sorry," he said plainly

Irene was stunned. Had it been this easy?

"Sorry?"

"Sorry you came all this way to have to go back empty handed," he turned back around.

Irene stood there, she didn't hardly have the mental means to keep herself upright let alone speak. She thought she had prepared herself for this. But never in her mind did she actually think that he wouldn't come back with her and save the day.

"She's still standing there," Donovan uttered in a low voice, tilting his head in her direction.

Freddie said nothing. He poured more of the rosy amber liquid into his glass and lit a cigar.

Irene was back on the boat now.

She wasn't sure how long she had stood on the sun baked patio waiting for him to turn around. To change his mind. To do something. Anything. But he never did. The ride back was a blur as she sat and thought of all the things she should have said, all the things she would have to say when she got back to Hope. She pulled out a small notepad and pen and tried to begin to formulate a way to put what had just happened into words. It was at this point that it finally dawned on her.

She had let them down.

"In our nations darkest day we turn to Captain Valor and he has turned his back on world" The radio announcer spoke in his best doomsday voice. "Can you blame him Richard" a wiry man in his mid thirties nasally exclaimed as a part of the Richard Keefs Midday radio panel.

Irene almost ripped the radio right of the wall trying to turn it off. Tonight it would be her turn to speak. Everyone knew that she had left town to find him. She had failed them. Three weeks ago when she was asked to locate Valor she imagined showing up tonight with him by her side. The red suit. The black cape hitting her calves as it knocked about in the breeze. But now after finding him, well she couldn't even call it finding him. That wasn't her Freddie. That wasn't Captain Valor. That was a spoiled trust fund boy sipping his drink and pissing the world away.

A red light blinked. She paused. Closed her eyes. It was now or never.

"Captain Valor is dead"

She heard it escape from her mouth. She would eventually make herself believe it, but right now she had to muster some tears, they would expect it.

A woman fourteen blocks from the radio station broke into tears in her living room, her husband was sitting next to her, he sighed deeply, leaning forward clasping his hands.

Eloise Holt now blamed herself.

She had started the riot of hate that chased him out of the metropolitan city of Hope all those years ago. What kind of hero saves the woman down the street from a mugger,  but would let her son die? Captain Valor never missed, never faltered. Why then? Why her son? Questions that would go unanswered forever, now that Captain Valor was dead.

Back at home Irene had taken her phone off the hook as she sat down on the side of her bed. The ringing stopped, finally leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Between the lines

As my friends who followed my short stories on facebook began to figure out I am notorious for open ended conclusions in my stories.

I didn't leave this unfinished, I told the story I wanted to. I'm sure these characters and their lives could yield more, but I am happy where I left them.

Spoiler Alert: Personally, I always thought he lost his powers and can't go back as a mere man. But that's just what I think. Maybe he was just truly hurt by the people he cared for the most.