Chapter 3: A Reporter and an Impossible Truth
"Holy shit? Am I bulletproof?"
I must have worn an expression that was far too expressive for the two men not to take the connotation that my words gave. The black man took his friend to the side.
"Hey," he said in a low voice, keeping his mouth close to the other man's ear. "The kid is okay, but we need to get out of here," his eyes glancing over to me. "And with what this kid just did… he needs to get out of here, before someone calls the cops about the gunfire."
The white man sighed, his eyes briefly looking at me.
"Fine, but I can't take him, Ben," he said, revealing the black man's name as Ben as he started to walk away. "Ain't got anywhere to put the guy and I've got my own family to take care of. "
I'd noticed that the redhead looked almost regretful as he left like it was painful for him to turn down trying to help the man that saved his life. At least that was what impression I got off the man, I could've easily been wrong.
"Right," Ben smacked his lips together, grabbing my attention as he did so. His left hand came down to lift me to my feet, then nearly pushing me forward as a loud set of sirens started blaring "We need to get out of here."
I followed along with the man, not making a single noise as I did so. Too shocked at what was happening to question this man dragging me out of the alley with a grimace on his face.
"You know," he grunted, his eyes glaring. "You could start moving, I'm not the best guy around to be lifting a fully grown man."
"Sorry," I muttered, making sure that I was actually following along with the man rather than being carried by him. Glancing at his face I couldn't help but think that the man was oddly familiar to me like I'd seen him somewhere… I just couldn't place where?
"What's your name kid?" Ben asked me, his tone light as we changed from walking at a fast to a slow pace away from the scene. I pondered the man's question carefully, thinking about the answer with all that I currently knew in mind.
"Pat," I said, continuing the lie I'd told the young girl earlier. " Pat Doyle, and you?"
He paused mid-step, his eyes glancing at mine like he was surprised that I hadn't recognized him. Meaning that my familiarity with the man would have easily been placed on him being some kind of famous person, which would at least explain that drive-by earlier.
"Suppose your not a big print man?" Ben asked me, resuming his strut alongside me with a small confident grin. "I'm Ben Urich, a reporter for the New York Bulletin."
"Thought you looked familiar, must have glanced over your paper at one stage or another," Saying this I noticed that Ben was now fully taking in my appearance, I think for the first time. Looking at my disheveled clothes, my dirty face and even the unkempt hair Ben seemed to have decided something.
"You homeless?" There was a light air to his tone, like what he had asked me wasn't a big deal. I couldn't disagree, part of me was deeply ashamed that I was in such a state that someone could even make such an assumption… but then… it did seem to be true.
"Yeah, woke up homeless a while ago," I replied, letting my eyes drop to my dirty shoes. Looking at the dirty stains that littered the surface, stains that I wasn't used to seeing. My mind still questioning how I'd gotten into this state. "Don't actually remember when I got to this state though."
Ben cast a glance towards me again, one that started out amused and slowly shifted into one of concern and sympathy. Eventually, he patted me on the shoulder, trying to give some small measure of comfort.
"It's been a tough year for a lot of folks," he said, his tone serious, from what I could recall, mostly because the Financial Crash would've happened recently, and even years after it, it was still affecting my family. "You ain't got any family that could help out?"
"No," I shook my head, thinking of the people that I hadn't tried calling yet but realizing that I didn't actually know any of their numbers. I'd never really needed to call other people and given that lack of any real response from the numbers that I had, thought that it might be better not trying. "I've been by myself for the last four years."
It was really just a guess based on the length of my hair and counting backward from the last year that I could remember with any real detail.
"You don't have anywhere to stay then," Ben continued, this time muttering to himself rather than asking me a question. We continued walking towards some destination, Ben eventually hailing a cab that the two of us stepped into. It was only then that he spoke once more. "You can stay with me, I've got a guest room in my apartment."
I wasn't sure how to take that, I could tell that he hadn't made that offer all that lightly, he'd tried finding somewhere else for me… not sure why he didn't offer to take me to some sort of shelter though.
"You offer hobos a place to stay often?"
"Just the ones that save my life."
It didn't take long for us to arrive at the apartment building, just twenty or so minutes which was a surprise to me, given that it was such a busy city. It wasn't a bad apartment either. It was clean, lacking any graffiti or any other kind of markings that would tell me we were in gang territory.
It was as we entered the door to his apartment, on the second floor, that Ben broke the silence that had enveloped us since that brief conversation in the cab's backseat.
"Doris!" Ben called out, his voice loud but soft. "I'm home… and I've got a guest."
There was a rather loud sigh from a room nearby, a small black woman walking out from behind a wall. Her face had a rather annoyed expression on it as if Ben had angered her.
"Ben," Doris moaned, throwing her hands down. "What have I told you? If someone's coming over, I need to know in advance or I won't be able to cook enough food for dinner."
"I'm sorry, it was rather sudden," he responded sheepishly, his shoulders making a shrugging motion.
"Guy's helping me with a little something, nothing that'll cause any trouble but… as you can see," Ben pointed over at me, his arm waving up and down my frame showcasing the rather dirty state I was in. "Kid needs a place to stay… you ok with that?"
Doris gave me a look, her eyes staring into mine with such an intensity that I couldn't help but look away from her. I was now only looking at the woman from the side of my vision, glancing as her expression softened even as her eyes stayed piercing.
"First… he takes washes and you lay out some clothes for him."
With those words, Doris turned around and left the hall. Ben moved to face me again, a slight apologetic grin on his face as he ushered further into the apartment and stopped at a brown door.
"Showers in there," he said, his other hand pointing at a radiator to the side. "I'll leave clean clothes that should fit outside."
That was when I was left alone, truly alone for the first time since waking up in that alley this morning. Alone and with a real mirror, looking at my face, I noticed that my face had aged by years since the last time I had a good look at it.
The hair that I used to guess my age previously seemed to be the least noticeable signifier. My face, while clean of spots, was now covered in dirt from the street, in some of the cheese and pasta sauce that I'd eaten earlier. I'd lost all the baby fat that I was known for during secondary school, my cheeks looking like I'd lost a full stone.
Even though I could tell by the sound of my footsteps that I'd gained about two stone.
I could make out the back of my hair, peeking out from the sides. I'd somehow lost my infamous cow's lick that I had holding up my fringe for most of my life. If I didn't know better, I'd wouldn't be able to tell that I was the same person anymore.
It was only the shape of my nose, the shape of my eyes, and the small scar that I had above my left eyebrow from picking at a chicken spot that came together to form my unique face. Suddenly, a knock at the door shook me out of my thoughts.
"Hey," Ben's voice came through the brown door, light and full of cheer. Something that did a great deal to put me at ease, which only meant that I felt numb… rather than shocked. "I've left some clean clothes out for you, they might be a bit short on you, but they're at least clean."
"Thanks," I replied, robotically, while I turned on the electronic shower. "I really appreciate you doing this for me," Speaking louder to overcome the sound of the shower. "Not many people would."
"Hey, you did me a massive favor, the least I could do is help you get back on your feet."
And so I was once more left alone, this time I didn't dwell on my thoughts but instead focused on washing the dirt of New York off.
x-x–x
I got dressed in a plaid shirt, the sleeves of which were barely enough to reach my wrist, and a pair of jeans that were somehow too tight but just about long enough for my legs. The only real issue I had now was just how long my hair had become, with it cleaned the damn thing straightened out and was over my eyes now.
Blocking me from seeing anything if I didn't swipe it the side.
"Mr. Urich!" I spoke, only slightly loud. "I'm out now. Where should I put my dirty clothes?"
"There's a basket by the bathroom door!" Ben yelled back, his voice coming from a room down the hall. I put the clothes where he mentioned and went off towards where his voice was coming from.
"Hey," I said as I approached the frame of the door, a jaunt in my step that felt like it hadn't been there in a long time. "Thanks again for doing this for me, I've been in a bit of a spot of late and really needed the help."
After my eyes caught Ben, I took in the rest of the room. What I found was like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream, there were playing cards set up on several wooden boards attached to the furthest wall. Each one had a name, with a red string poked into the center of one and into another.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Ben told me, sitting on a chair with his left foot resting on his knee. "Tell me, what is someone like you doing living on the streets?"
"Someone like me?" Was my response, feeling confused by the statement.
"You're young, powerful," he pointed at me, his index finger pointing at me as if it would prove his point. "You're also obviously an Irish National based on your accent. So I don't know why you're living on the streets of New York."
I explosively sighed, my whole body seemed to sag as my earlier thoughts came to mind once more. Spotting a free seat across from Ben I took it before shitting my eyes and rubbing my forehead to get the hair out of my eyes once more.
"You'd have a much better idea of that than I would at this point. One day, I was just studying for my leaving cert and then…" I clapped my hands together, causing the man to jump. "Bamm, I woke up in an alley with my face in a puddle and about four years added to me face."
"You have amnesia?"
"And I'm bulletproof now," I sighed once again, something that I was doing a lot lately. "That's a recent thing."
"They could be linked," Ben scratched his chin, turning his chair around to face his desk and grab his notes. "Some sort of super-soldier experiment, like with the Hulk."
I let the name drop of another Marvel superhero go, not wanting to draw any attention to the fact that it was a surprise that he was treating a fictional character like they were real. Because I had my own bombshell to drop.
"The last time I checked, it was 2012," That caused Ben to spin around in his chair, facing with this expression that fused disbelief and confusion into one perfect blend. "Now, it's 2008."
Ben suddenly licked his lips, taking his glasses off his face with his left hand while he once more scratched at his chin. It was only after a few seconds had passed that Ben spoke again, it was after his black-framed glasses touched the table that he said something.
"If you weren't bulletproof I'd think you were just crazy," he gave me another small smile while reaching over to pat me on the shoulder. "I'll help you get to the bottom of this Pat."
And with those words, relief filled my heart. It felt like the first time for hours… I could breathe again.
"Thanks."
"Hey, don't thank me, you saved my life," he responded, putting his glasses back on his face and removing his tie from around his neck. "And there's a story here, one that needs to be discovered. That's interesting…."
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