TITAN

“There’s evil and then there’s Evil…”

His grandfather’s words echoed in Eric’s mind as he was jolted back into himself in the present. Tim and Nancy were exactly where Eric had left them, standing over his bed. They wore looks of concern that faded.

Did they know I was gone?

Eric looked down at the “book” in his hands; the cool, thin tendrils of liquid metal withdrew back into it. He thought the tome was throbbing, but his parents didn’t seem to notice. The ache and the pain he had felt before was diminished.

“What did you see?” Tim asked.

Eric took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Let’s just say I believe.”

The book filled Eric’s brain with information. He now knew things that he did not know before he touched the object. There were bits and pieces of memories that were fragmented and mixed in with his own. He was overwhelmed with the new information and sensations. It was maddening. He knew information was there, but he could not process it.

Eric was released from the hospital early the next afternoon. His color had returned. There was less pain and he didn’t feel warm anymore. He felt better than he ever had. He stood tall and he felt full. All of the gaps that opened up inside of him over the course of his life felt filled in. Echoes of the past needled him still and whispered doubt in his ear, but he felt rejuvenated. Maybe the book had healed him. He enjoyed a deep and restorative sleep where whatever dreams he had were not accessible from his conscious mind. He knew he had dreams, but he didn’t remember them.

Tim drove his work van back home while Eric rode with Nancy. She was different. Normally a ball of nerves, tense, and carrying a lot in her expression, Nancy was now introspective. The edge in her voice had lessened.

“I dreamed about Sarah last night, Mom,” Eric said.

Nancy smiled, “I did too. She was beautiful and walking.”

“It helped me remember something about the day she died,” Eric said. The dream was at once vivid and in the next instant the details became worn and hazy. He remembered the warmth, though. Soothing and smooth like unconditional love. The only kind Eric believed Sarah had been capable of. “This thing that’s happened to me. I don’t understand it. Not yet, but I believe what Dad said. I’ve seen and experienced things now. But on that day, when I hugged Sarah good-bye, it always seemed strange to me how warm she was. I know you don’t just turn stone cold, but this was different. I think Sarah gave this to me. Like she knew it was important.”

Nancy’s eyes sparkled with tears but not sadness. “The way she loved us… it’s not meant to happen that way. It was too pure. I sometimes think about it and I know why it happened when it did. She just couldn’t go on loving us. It was too much. Her heart burst.”

She looked at Eric then, her eyes meeting his. “And she loved you most of all. I’m her mother. I’m selfish and I want to think that she loved me most. That’s just because I was with her day and night. I want to know she felt for me what I did for her. But it was you. When you were just a chubby little bald-headed baby she used to watch you so carefully. You remember her eyes. They saw everything. It was like she knew you were special, that she needed to take care of you.” Her words came slowly through tears. “Because she was your big sister and that’s what she was supposed to do. All of that torture they put her through be damned… she did it anyway.”

Eric felt warmth crawling up the back of his eyes. But he couldn’t completely let go of the shell he had built. He bit the tears back. “I know, Mom.”

“No,” Nancy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I didn’t know it then. I was convinced that it was over. Titan...

“I think about how she watched you with those eyes. She knew. She knew you were special. Because she was trapped inside of herself, all she could do was think and watch and know. Doctors used to tell me she had the brain of a child, but I didn’t believe that. And maybe it was just the thing that you have, helping her, keeping her alive and strong so it could keep going… but whatever did it, Sarah knew things that we can never know. And if she did give you this power, it’s important, Eric. She wanted you to have it because it’s supposed to be.” Nancy squeezed Eric’s hand. “I tried to forget that. But you can’t. Not ever.”

Eric nodded. He didn’t dare speak for fear of losing control of his emotions. But he remembered what his mom told him. He remembered it forever.

* * *

Eric couldn’t stop thinking about the last things Jim said about his family or about the men that were at the hospital the previous day. And he could still hear the breaking glass and garbled shouts in his head. Despite Eric’s newfound contentment, the memory plagued him. Jim said they “used” him. But Jim escaped. He didn’t help them. Now Jim was paying for it. Or maybe not. Jim could be dead.

His family was.

Eric and Jim had been friends as far back as they could remember. Their parents had sent them to the same pre-school. Back then, Eric and Jim had been roughly the same height. A long time ago, indeed.

Jim was a wiry, slight little kid, who was, like most young boys, goofy. He loved toys and guns. He and Eric met on the first day of pre-school before planned activities had begun. Eric was an outgoing boy despite the fact he was often inside where his parents could see him. Jim found Eric putting a big piece puzzle together near the entrance to the toys and games area. He sat with his legs straight out and his hand propping up his cheek. Jim carried toy “Transformers” in each hand. Pushing his glasses higher up his nose, Jim stood over Eric and said, “D’you wanna play Transformers?”

Eric was more of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Ghostbusters kid, but he thought the red and blue Transformer looked cool. He looked up at Jim and nodded. “Sure. Can I be that guy?”

Jim smiled. “Yeah! This is Optimus Prime.”

Eric wasn’t sure what an “Optimus Prime” was, but he took an instant liking to Jim. The kid seemed to be a big nerd like he was. Jim set the other toy, a white-colored robot with a bazooka on his shoulder, aside and began moving Optimus Prime all around. The toy’s legs folded in and back, his head slid into the body, and the arms collapsed into the sides. When Jim was done, the action figure had become the front of a big rig. Jim handed it to Eric. “See? He changes.”

“Cooool!” Eric accepted the truck. “What’s that one?”

Jim grinned like only a child can when talking about a toy. “This is Megatron. He’s the bad guy. Watch this.” Jim put Megatron through the same rigmarole and when he was done, he had a cool looking laser pistol in hand. Eric thought it looked kind of like James Bond’s gun.

“Wow. That’s even better… but wait, does he shoot himself?” Eric asked.

Jim shrugged. “One of his guys does.” He sat down cross-legged across from Eric. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Eric was wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a blue, button-down shirt with a clip tie. His hair was parted on the left and not a single strand was out of place. His mom had brushed it. Eric looked down at himself. “I don’t know. Mom says it makes me look like a grown up.”

“You might get it dirty. We’re gonna play outside later. At least I think so. My dad said we would.”

“That’s okay. I can run in these,” Eric said, gesturing to his shoes. They were black with thick laces and good soles. “What’s your name? I’m Eric Steele. My middle name is Arthur. That was my grandpa’s name. What’s your name?”

“James NcNulty. But call me Jim. My parents call me Jimmy sometimes and I hate it. I think it sounds gay.”

“What does ‘gay’ mean?”

“I think it’s when two girls kiss each other,” Jim said.

“Yecchh. That’s gross.” That ended the “gay” discussion, but later, at home, when Eric asked his dad what “gay” meant Tim had replied: “Gay means happy.” Eric couldn’t understand why Jim would think his name was “happy” and not like it.

“Where do you live?” Jim asked.

Eric repeated his whole address from memory and even his phone number. Tim made up songs about their address and phone number and sang them with Eric to the tune of “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

“It’s close to the river,” Eric said. “I walk by it with my dad and sister sometimes. Where do you live?”

Jim didn’t know his exact address, but he knew his phone number. “We live close to an ice cream store. How old’s your sister?”

“Nine, I think. But she’s not normal. She’s handicapped,” Eric said.

“What’s ‘handicap’ mean?”

“It means when you can’t walk.” Eric made Optimus Prime humanoid again. He looked up and said, “Mom takes care of her.”

“Wow. Will she get better? Maybe she can get new legs,” Jim said.

“Yeah, maybe. I’m gonna be a doctor to fix her. Mom doesn’t think so, but I’ll try.”

A loud voice called out over the din of children’s voices. “Clean up your games and put away the toys! Come have a seat, please! Let’s see how quickly and quietly you can do it.”

Eric handed Jim his toy back and put his puzzle together. He slid it onto the shelf. Jim put his toys in his backpack and tossed it into a pile of other backpacks, two feet high. Eric and Jim ran to the nearest table to the front and sat next to each other. Eric turned to Jim and patted him on the back. “Let’s be best friends. We can sit together!”

Jim grinned. “Okay!”

Eric remembered that day with clarity while other things from back then were a blur or simply gone. What he didn’t know as a kid or know now as a young man was that the friend he made twelve years ago now wanted to kill him.

* * *

“...as soon as he put his hands on the book, everything faded away and I was back in the hospital bed. If it was a dream, it was the most vivid dream I’ve ever had,” Eric said.

Tim paced in front of Eric in the living room, the stolen earpiece gripped in his hand. “I’ve seen and heard some crazy things. I’ve been a part of some of them. I’ve never heard of time travel.”

Nancy sat on the loveseat, cattycorner to the couch where Eric was. “If that really happened, why didn’t Art say anything to your father?”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “You two just told me that I have an ancient power living inside me and I am just supposed to accept it. I’m telling you: this happened. I felt what he felt, I saw what he saw. And there was more.

“Just before I came back, there was this sensation. It was cold. Dark. It felt evil. But it came from that time, from that place. It’s… I think it’s connected to what’s happening now. When Grandpa found the book, something from that time… it affected something that’s happening now.”

“You mean you changed the future?” Nancy said.

“No. I’m saying I was taken to that time so I could see what happened there because it’s relevant now.”

Tim sighed. He should have let Eric recover before they spoke. There had been a lot for Eric to swallow in the past twenty-four hours. This time travel nonsense was a symptom of stress and delirium.

Or was it?

As a kid, growing up in the shadow of his father, a prolific Titan, Tim had thought the book gave Titan its power. Art often said, “It comes from God.” It was a special book. Powerful. Tim had always felt rejuvenated and whole when holding it. Tim had been a “tip of the iceberg” kind of Titan. He never desired to know more about where Titan came from or how his power worked. For him, the book made him feel good on a physical level, but didn’t do much more than that. Tim received memories, smells, and images from the book like all Titans, but they never amounted to much. But Titan had a long history and some of them were more cerebral and more spiritual than Tim. They could get more from the book. If Eric’s story was true, maybe there was more to the book than he ever imagined.

What did it say about Eric if the book could connect with him and send him through time?

Titan’s tome had the ability to know who held it. That’s why it worked differently for every Titan. When Eric touched the book, it knew that he was denying the truth. It showed him what he needed to see to believe.

If the user was ready, the book would help him know what he needed to know. Some users were not ever ready. There were some things Tim never learned. He had always maintained a connection with the book, but it stopped speaking to him after he lost his powers. For Tim, it was an empty vessel now. A brick.

Eric had revived the book. It thrummed with the history of past Titans, insight into Titan’s powers, and information about his enemies. It sat beside Eric on the couch, his hand resting on top of it.

“What are we going to do about Jim?” Eric asked and met his father’s gaze.

The question caught Tim off guard. He worried about Jim, too, but his focus was on protecting Eric. The McNulty house fire seemed like it was ages ago and it was only the previous night. “What can we do? We don’t know where he is or…” Tim didn’t say it, but the last part was obvious.

Eric’s expression was guarded. He obviously didn’t like the answer, but he didn’t have a better one. “Show me how to do this… Help me become Titan.”

“It hasn’t even been a day, kid… your body’s still adjusting,” Tim said. He wasn’t sure if that was true. He only knew that if—when—Eric met up with the McNultys’ murderers, it wouldn’t be pretty. Those men were willing to do anything to obtain Titan’s power. Tim knew his son and didn’t think Eric was willing to do everything necessary to win. He didn’t have that killer instinct.

Of course, that’s where you ran into trouble, isn’t it? Hmm?

“I’m going to do it without you if I have to. I have the book, but I think I need your help to win.”

Tim couldn’t let Eric go off half-cocked. “Let’s get everything out of the way, first. If you’ve got any more questions, now’s the time. The book doesn’t tell you everything. Not right away.”

“Okay. When I told you about my dream with Sarah, you didn’t seem surprised. Why?”

Tim gulped. Bad question. But he was trapped—Tim knew Eric would know if he was lying. “It was familiar.”

“You had it.”

“Not exactly. Just after I transformed, I had a dream too. In it, I was in a place like you described. I saw a girl, but she was far away. I didn’t recognize her. It wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to remember.”

“Did you know that Grandpa had one like it too?” Eric asked. “And the Titan before him, Great-Grandpa Teddy Steele. I know what they are. They’re not dreams. They’re warnings.”

“Of what? Sarah?” Tim asked. Eric was so certain. His assuredness made Tim uneasy. “You?”

“Not Sarah, exactly, but what would happen to her. What she means.” A shadow fell across Eric’s face.

“What she means? I don’t…”

“Let me put it this way… a police officer has everyday responsibilities. Patrolling, answering calls, paperwork, and things like that. Every once in a while, though, something big goes down like a bank robbery, a car chase, or a murder. These are things they know they have to deal with, but they don’t necessarily happen every day. Titan is like the cop, Dad. For years, generations even, Titan has been patrolling, answering calls, and dealing with pretty standard stuff. Battling evil… lowercase. Important, but not major.”

“World War II isn’t major?” Tim said.

“Not world ending, no. These visions appeared to the last three Titans as a vague presence, gradually getting closer. With me, I saw it was Sarah and she… it attacked me.”

“Right. Right. What are you getting at?”

“What happened to Sarah… it was Evil. Real Evil. That someone would mutilate a child, a newborn infant, is the worst in humanity. It is Evil. Before I came back, Grandpa said something to me. He said, ‘There’s evil and then there’s Evil.’ Maybe God was trying to show me something Grandpa faced or something he did that I would have to face, too.

“That vision of Sarah I had feels like Titan will have to face pure Evil… uppercase. The time for donuts and paperwork is over. I will be confronting something new. It began with Sarah. It will either end with me or I’ll die trying to stop it.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “How do you know all that? The book said that?”

“The book told me about the visions and said they were a warning. I’ve interpreted the rest. But I’m right. I know I am. What happened to Jim, these people who have him and are after me, it’s all connected to Sarah. It goes back as far as Grandpa in the war. I didn’t time-skip eighty years into the past for nothing.”

Tim shook his head. “I’m still not convinced you understood what you saw. Traveling in time? I think it was another vision…” Tim hesitated. Eric had gone from being uncertain and frightened to telling Tim things that he’d never heard of in all of his time mixed up with Titan.

Eric ignored the dismissal. “Whether you believe it or not, I know what happened to me. Do you want me to tell you what it was like standing in the landing beach craft on D-Day? The salty air. Bullets ripping past. What it looks like to watch men blasted to hell? Or how about that Grandpa had a dog? I didn't know that until my experience or seventy years ago, depending on your perspective. I need to figure this out, Dad. I don’t think Jim’s dead. If this all goes back to Sarah, or even before that, and signals Evil’s birth… I’m afraid for Jim. These people attacked a baby. What would they do to him? Or to me?” Eric stood up. “Do I have to do this alone or will you help me?”

Tim had doubts, but he wasn't sure if that was Tim the father or Tim the former Titan holding him back. “C’mon, let’s go somewhere out of the way.”

* * *

Arthur Steele had been a no-nonsense man. Whenever he was training or teaching Tim about Titan, he demanded one-hundred percent attention. “It’s important,” he said. “Remember, Timmy, it comes from God. If that ain’t important, I dunno what is.”

Tim learned everything about Titan--hell, about life—from his dad. As he pulled his truck into the dirt field behind Eric’s grade school, off Route 1, Tim felt like he didn’t know a thing. It had been years since he’d been Titan. His mind was rusted closed on the subject. He wondered if that was part of his punishment.

The field was a grassy, wide-open area out of sight from the road and nearby buildings. This part of Route 1 was sparsely populated. It was perfect for this kind of training. Quiet, but secluded.

Eric had the book tucked under his arm. He was focused. Like his mother, Eric had two faces: grim determination and neutral. Smiles and smirks came few and far between. He placed the book on the ground and faced his dad. “How does this work?”

“It’s like walking. Crawl first… then get your balance to stand,” Tim said. He tapped his arm. “The stuff is in your bones. It enriches and protects you. Even when you’re not Titan, your body will be strong. I was shot once when I wasn’t Titan and the bullet glanced off a rib and out my side. Hurt like hell after, but no permanent damage. The trick is to feel inside of yourself. Think about how, if you concentrate, you can listen to your heart and, with enough focus, you can actually feel it beat.”

Eric let his arms drop and tried to relax. He turned inward, ignoring the chilly breeze and the sound of distant cars, and listened for his heart. He found it. Thump. Thump. Thump. He slipped deeper and felt the slight vibrations throughout his chest. Blump. Blump. Blump. There was somethingthere—he touched it. In his chest, his lungs cradled his heart and his ribs protected them. Part of ingenious biological design. Deeper still, there was something else. Eric detected it for only a moment. The sensation was akin to drinking something hot on an empty stomach. You can feel it draining down the walls of your stomach. And here too, Eric felt something hot coating his bones in warmth. His whole body began to feel hot, but not uncomfortable. This wasn’t like before. No, it was like a hot shower first thing in the morning, wrapping heat and steam around his body and soothing him throughout.

Then it was gone. The heat recoiled back inside of him. The feeling lingered for only a moment longer and it was quickly gone.

Eric looked up at Tim. “I think I had it.”

Tim smiled and felt a swell of pride mixed with something resembling envy? Jealousy? It took him a week before he actually felt Titan. He knew Titan was with him, but he couldn’t see it or touch it. It waited until he was ready. “Very good. It’ll be easier to find it again. Once you get it once, you can always get it again. But what you need to do is get it, hold it, and release it. Like flexing a muscle.”

Eric remembered where to go. It was there. Titan. Coiled up, warm and soothing around his ribs. Now he could feel it elsewhere. His arms thrummed with fresh warmth and strength. The bones in his fingers tingled with heat. His shoulders became balls of radiating warmth. The feeling curled down his spine. It echoed deep and down into his legs. The cold breeze was forgotten and Eric was enfolded in a thick blanket of heat. His arms lifted, but he didn’t realize it. Thin, almost invisible, threads reached out of Eric’s skin and began to intertwine with the others. They interlaced, entwined, and tightened with each other, wrapping all over Eric’s arms, neck, shoulders, legs, feet—everywhere. Eric closed his eyes as minute threads curled up and down from his brow, smoothing out spaces for his eyes to see. His hair became tangled with metal strands and eventually began to coat itself with metal, creating a shock of hair atop his masked head.

Tim watched, wide-eyed. Eric had summoned the armor on only his second try. His face was almost completely masked now. His hands were gloves of leathered, metal threads that were, to the wearer, smooth and perfectly fitted over his skin.

Why they hell did we come out here? Tim’s mind raced. The kid’s an ace! Nobodyever worked his armor this quickly… or this well!

Tim’s pride squelched whatever feelings of envy had slithered around the base of his mind. Eric was a smart and talented kid. He never caused trouble. He earned good grades. But something in Eric always rubbed Tim the wrong way. He never tried as hard as he could and still succeeded. But he never put his all into anything. His grades were good, but not great. At sports, he was average—if that—but he never tried harder than he had to so it was hard to know if he was better than he appeared to be. He did just enough to do well, but not enough to excel.

But this…

His son was doing something no one else ever had or at least as far as he knew. Every Titan had a learning curve. Tim hadn’t been able to slip the mask over his face for weeks—he had gotten claustrophobic. Eric, though, was doing it all! His face was completely masked now, hidden behind a deep platinum material, with a “T” crossing his eyes and nose. It was sleek and reflective, but the tiny lattice work of metal threads was still visible. Eric’s hands were now gloves of the same material, with a raised band around each wrist that formed a “T” extending along the back of each arm up to his shoulders. On Eric’s chest, the embossed “T” was the final touch.

Every Titan’s armor was unique because it formed on them according to their wills and imaginations. Art’s had been relatively plain with his “T” somewhat small and looking much like the capital letter of a typewriter. Tim’s “T” was a big block letter—thick—and it extended down to meet his “belt,” which was similarly thick around his waist. Eric’s “T” would be unique to him as it had been for every other Titan.

Eric looked up at Tim. His voice was deeper, fuller, but full of wonder. “I think I did it!”

“Amazing.”

Eric paused to look at his hands and flex his arms. He felt as light as a feather. He felt like he could run and never stop and he hated running. His lungs were full and clear. His glasses had fallen from his face during the transformation, but Eric didn’t need them anymore.

Tim marveled at his son. Tim thought Eric’s armor reflected Eric’s mentality. The ornamental flourishes were jagged and sharp. Raised bands curled around each arm just beneath his shoulders and edged down the sides of his arms in lines that ended at his wrists in points. Curved blades grew out of these lines extending the points up. Eric’s “boots” were similarly arranged with smaller blades. The “T” on his chest was jagged and extended to his belly button while the side tips reached to the edges of his chest. Eric’s physical transformation was finished.

“Dad, this feels… I can’t even describe it. I don’t feel like myself. I even feel a little taller!”

“Looks like you put lifts in your boots. Plus, the elements in your bones will stretch them a little bit,” Tim said.

“What can I do?” Eric asked. “I feel like I could jump over a building.”

Tim couldn’t hide his smile. “Take it easy. You’re still getting used to your skin. I’m sure you feel great and strong, but you’re not one-hundred percent yet. What we need to do is work you out. You have to train like you would for hockey or baseball. You’ll only master it with practice. Soon you’ll be able to become Titan in a flash. It’s a physical and mental transformation. But first, the basics.”

Eric started running around the outer edge of the field. His legs and arms pumped. He moved fast, but his steps were heavy and thudded hard. He moved with brute, flat-footed speed.

“Listen… you’re running like you used to run,” Tim said. “But Titan can run like a track star. Faster. Use the balls of your feet and control your breathing.”

“Breathing? I’m not even breaking a sweat… if I can sweat.”

“That’s just the thing. Titan breathes with you. Think of Titan like a body part. It is a part of you. You can just breathe through your nose or you can breathe through both. You have more endurance and agility than a regular person does,” Tim said.

Eric took off again, quicker and more balanced. His speed increased. But he had never been a runner. The Steeles were sturdy, stout men. Running would need more practice. Eric’s legs were light and quick, but even he felt like his movement could be more efficient. There was…

Eric froze. He stared ahead not seeing what was actually ahead of him. His sight looked inward now. The suit had been filling into him all along—sharpening his senses, strengthening his muscles, reinforcing his bones, but it transcended the purely physical. The plug was jacked in all the way. Whatever Titan was, it was perceptive on a level beyond normal human capability. All at once, Eric was connected to something deep. But this was not a connection he could effect change through, rather it was akin to a mooring on a big ship—Eric was tied to the big ship but couldn’t move it. Yet, he felt its pitch and yaw and beyond that the movement of the waves.

“Eric?” Tim put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. Through the vibrations, Eric felt his father’s hand and the personal connection pulled him free. He came back to “normal” perception, finding a way to block out the connection. All the same, the mooring was still there. What shook him loose was a peculiar, human feeling of surprise—not at being grabbed, but at how light Tim’s hand felt on his shoulder. For as long as Eric could remember, Tim’s hands were rough and strong. Even in tender moments like hugs or reassuring shoulder taps, Eric felt his dad’s strength in his hands. It’s the kind of thing sons depend on. Dads can fix anything. Tim could. Tim was still a strong man, but at this moment his hand on Eric’s shoulder felt like nothing more than a moderate breeze. Eric was now tough like a three-ton girder and his dad’s reassuring hand wasn’t very reassuring. It frightened Eric. Now he was responsible for fixing problems.

Like Jim… remember him?

The connection shot through Eric again. He reached through the “tether” without meaning to. This time Eric was thrown off his feet. He was aware that his dad called his name, but it sounded far away.

Eric felt filthy. Whatever his heightened senses were feeding him was murky and black like days-old, burnt coffee. His throat became dry and his mind swam with terror. It was here. The presence from his vision of Sarah. Whatever Eric was now hooked into, it was a part of it. Evil.

If his dad’s story about God and the creation of Evil was right, then Evil was literally a part of everything. It infected creation like a fungus. Eric sensed it all around him. In his own heart. In the trees. In the wind. In the fabric of the world. It flooded through Eric’s mooring with The Source and overwhelmed him completely. Supernatural strength, bones of steel, fast like a cheetah—bullshit: his heart and mind were still human. Eric had to face the spirit of Evil with his own spirit. And his was human. Weak, scared, fearful of the dark… the loneliness of the thick, slick, black…

“I don’t love you. I think I hate you…” Melanie’s words stabbed him. They slid up and through his ribs and he felt real physical pain.

Eric clutched his side. All of the old pain tumbled through, flooding through him on a supercharged current straight from Hell and strengthened by his connection through Titan to a deeper well of senses. Where intuition and faith were omnipresent and where love and hate had presence.

Where the darkness has hands, reaching for him… Sarah’s hands… twisted by disease and mutilated by evil men…

The Titan mantle rose off Eric’s skin like bread that had baked too long. It retreated like it was afraid. Once Titan was back inside, Eric’s eyes snapped open. He gasped. He had been paralyzed by his connection to… whatever it was… and he had forgotten to breathe. The warmth that had soothed him from the suit’s power faded fast and he was now very cold.

Tim knelt beside him. “Hey! Are you okay, kid?”

Eric sat up and looked at Tim. All he got out was “I” before he burst into tears. The Source had poured pure hate and fear directly into Eric and it had awakened and strengthened his own such emotions. Titan strengthened Eric’s body and reflexes, but he didn’t expect an increase to his feelings. The Source was like a fiber-optic cable jacked straight into his heart and brain when they were used to dial-up.

Tim hugged Eric, not sure what else he should do. Then he helped Eric to his feet. “Let’s go home. Maybe this was a mistake. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but this isn’t the place to figure it out.”

Eric rubbed at his eyes and nodded. Tim helped Eric back to the car and into the passenger seat. Eric sat waiting for Tim to slide into the driver’s seat and take them home. Eric didn’t dare blink more than he needed to. Even in the micro-instants of darkness that accompanied every rise and fall of his eyelids, Eric saw her.

Sarah.

With every blink, she was there spewing black hate and viscous evil.

She was getting closer.

* * *

Tim didn’t talk on the drive back. Eric looked like a ghost had passed through him. He wasn’t afraid of anything outside. No, the fear came from inside. One moment Eric was running and the next he was flat on his ass like he’d been sucker-punched by Casper. And the sobbing… Tim hadn’t seen Eric like that since Eric was a little boy. When he became Titan, Tim’s body ached all over and felt like someone poured hot oil down his throat, but he didn’t recall hysterical crying.

Nancy was getting the mail when they got home. In the hub-bub of the previous day’s events, no one had picked up the mail. Not that it really mattered, there had only been a few coupon circulars and some letters from credit card companies. Apparently, Tim Steele was “Approved!”

Eric stepped out of the passenger side and Nancy knew something was wrong immediately. He looked like a zombie; pale, shuffling, and his eyes were blank. “What happened?”

Tim circled around to Eric and put a steady hand under Eric’s arm. “I don’t know. He did it, Nance! He became Titan. Fastest I’ve ever heard of. He was running and then he just stopped like something hit him.”

Eric turned to Tim and with his voice a low croak said, “Something did hit me…”

“What was it?”

“It’s hard to describe. I felt cold from the inside. I felt Evil,” Eric said. “I felt a lot of things. I felt like I was plugged into something. It was connected to me, too. There were a lot of things in there, but Evil was looking for me. It was everywhere… in everything.”

“Jesus, Timmy…” Nancy began.

“Maybe I just wasn’t ready for it, but every negative thing I’d ever felt in my life opened up and spilled inside me. Anger, hate… fear. They were tangible almost as if those things had presence.”

“The book told me that Titan is power from God. It has access to things that regular people don’t. I didn’t get much more than that from it,” Tim said. “Maybe that’s what this is. Sounds like you’re hooked into some kind of evil-sense. It’s more intense than anything I ever got.”

“Like ‘Spider-sense’ on crack?” Eric asked. “Maybe. But it wasn’t just evil I got. It was overpowering, yeah, but I knew there was more. Something greater… there was good, too.”

“You said Eric needed practice before he could really be Titan,” Nancy said to Tim. Then she turned to Eric. “Maybe this is the same. What you felt, you can’t just use it and expect it to work right. You have to practice this.”

Eric felt himself go pale. “I’m in no big hurry to hop on the emotion superhighway again.”

Tim slapped Eric on the back. This time, even though it didn’t resonate with the same heavy strength that it used to, it was more reassuring than it had been when Eric was in Titan. He took comfort in it and in the fact that he wasn’t alone. Maybe his parents weren’t the ones who had to fight monsters in the dark, but knowing they were there to share it all with him was comforting.

Eric thought about Jim again. Jim was out there somewhere. Alone. Did he know his family was dead? Eric wondered. In the deepest parts of himself, Eric hoped Jim was dead. He didn’t want him to be, but he wished for it. Somewhere, deep inside, stirred into life by the connection that had knocked him on his ass, Eric sensed a great dread and feared what had happened to Jim. Eric was scared for his friend. What was happening to Jim was his fault.

Now Eric felt something new. It was like the difference between fearing the dark because someone might be waiting inside and fearing it because you knew someone was there you couldn’t see.

Eric knew something was in the dark waiting for him.

* * *

Jim McNulty smiled big and wide. His face was not bruised; it was unblemished, shiny. He sat at a sterile, metal table with a bowl of food in front of him. Jim didn’t know what was in the bowl and didn’t care. The Shadow Man told him to eat it. He said it would help him heal. Whatever the food was, if it was food, it tasted bland and faintly medicinal. Jim didn’t care about that either. The only thing he cared about was the little girl sitting across the table from him: Beth.

Since the surgery, the Shadow Man had let Jim see Beth every day. She was frightened by him at first, but she grew complacent. She was quiet, in fact, like she had been drugged. Jim didn’t know about that, but he knew that she was alive and with him and safe unlike their parents who were burned to death in their own home. There would be retribution for them. They were assholes, but they were still his parents.

Everything was bright now. Jim didn’t need contacts anymore. He saw with great clarity. Like when he had seen the doctor examining his bandages pick his nose and scratch his ass pretty damn deep. Why don’t you get a shovel, buddy?! Huh? Ah well, it was okay, though. Things were peachy-keen. Or as Eric liked to say sometimes: “ExCELLent.” He wouldn’t be saying that soon, though. Oh, no. He was probably going to be crying or pleading, but not regaling everyone with his mean-spirited humor. Nope. Not him. Things wouldn’t be “exCELLent” for him for a good long while. Maybe not ever again.

Despite Jim’s joy at being a “new man,” he wasn’t stupid. He knew the Shadow Man’s men were putting something in his “food” and it was both supporting the procedure and giving Jim a pick-me-up. Whatever they’d done, it was incredible. It was a million times better than feeling angry and alone all the time. “Happy” was a great feeling. There was no better way to feel in his book. Though, strong was a good second. He’d grown five inches and felt like he was carved from pure muscle.

Miracle workers, these guys were. He didn’t know what they did, but as with everything else, he didn’t care. He just felt like he could rip a bull’s head off if he wanted. Jim hadn’t put his muscle to the grindstone yet, but he knew he was strong. He knew it like runners know they’re fast and like fish know they can swim.

The Shadow Man didn’t seem so much like a “shadow” anymore either. Jim still didn’t know his name, but the guy could be friendly when he wanted. Accommodating, too. It was too bad that Jim was going to kill him and all of his men. As happy as he was, Jim hadn’t forgotten the beating he’d taken from the Shadow Man’s thugs. They’d be dealt with in time. Just like the Shadow Man would be. Jim knew they were acting under his orders. Once Eric was in-hand and the Shadow Man got what he wanted, Jim would take Beth and go. He knew they wouldn’t just let him go, of course. Jim would have to make a way out. Beth couldn’t live the rest of her bright, young life in a rusted hangar. No, of course not. He’d just kill them all and go. If anyone else got in his way, he’d kill them too. So this is the Hobbesian World all those teachers were talking about… Jim mused. Yep, I sure am nasty and brutish, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be cut short. Nope. Don’t think so. Me and Beth are gonna be just fine.

Jim finished off his medicinal bowl of food and watched Beth. She looked damned near asleep. That was okay. It was probably best that she not wake up too much in this place. With any luck, she’d hardly remember it.

It would be over soon. Jim had noticed his scars were completely healed and his checkups were lessening in frequency and in length. He was ready now, but the Shadow Man didn’t think so.

“This isn’t your friend like you knew him,” the Shadow Man had said, “He’s a handful now. But not too much. Not for you. He’s got God, which is the bare minimum. But let me ask you something, Jimmy… what’s better, an arrow or a bullet? Huh? Ha. Eric Steele is an arrow… you’re a bullet.” The Shadow Man smiled. “Plus, we’ve got your sister. The big brother you are, I know you’re not gonna let a thing happen to her.”

Jim heard the Shadow Man’s threat, but he agreed with him: he wasn’t going to let anything happen to Beth. The Shadow Man wanted Eric. He’ll get him. He wants Eric’s parents in pieces? He’ll get that, too.

It was that simple.