Flyover City! A Novel (with Superheroes)

33. The Info-Dump!

I guess it was naive of me to think that my tryst with Gwen on the stairwell would lead to an evening of non-stop marathon sex. Even so, I didn't think I'd be spending the entire night accounting for last few months of my life. She was able to cross-reference every recent hero sighting and giant monster attack with my general unavailability, so she wasn't so much asking questions as giving me details, which I was then expected to either confirm or deny. It continued into the next day, all the way through our drive into Boulder. I finally started an argument about the best place to park, just to change the subject.

Gwen grabbed our burritos while I kept watch out front. This particular link in the Chipotle chain is located in a glorified strip mall. with a gated patio connected to identical patios outside the two storefronts - all lined up, like chicken coops. I considered it a minor victory when I found an empty bench near the street, which prevented us from having to sit between the women discussing their yoga class and the guy peeking out from behind his copy of the Tao Te Ching to see if anyone was impressed.

As it turned out, there was no need to rush: we sat there waiting, with the sun beating down on us, for the next four hours.

"Amazing," I said, pressing a cup of ice against my forehead "the highest real estate prices in Colorado, yet none of these people seem to have a job."

A look of disgust crossed Gwen's face. "Maybe it's all the money they save from not buying deodorant."

I caught it, too: a particularly noxious smell, twisting it's way into my nostrils. But this wasn't just the usual Boulder funk, of rock climber dipped in patchouli; this was a deadly cocktail, mixed from bodily excretions and waste products, like a whiff of Satan's own sweet armpit.

Neither one of us remember seeing him walking up - he was suddenly just there, rifling through a garbage can not fifteen feet away from us, the offending odor emanating from him like so much loving kindness.

It's weird - he must be well over a hundred years old by now, but he doesn't look a day over 80. I guess if you think about it, that's still pretty fucking old. 

"Oh, look... that is so sad," Gwen whispered as she started digging through her bag.

"Holy shit. Just hold on a sec...."

She looked him over in disbelief, eyes squinting - then aimed that same expression directly at me.

"Just look, beneath all that grime -"

"- the grime on his track suit, you mean? Joel, come on, we knew coming here that this might not be our guy."

I actually mumbled the word green, which sounds stupid, I know - but it was an understatement. His clothes were the vivid, perfect hue that you would see if you were to close your eyes and picture the color in your mind. I sat there, mesmerized. It took a second before it registered that Gwen was walking right up to him.

"Sir? Here, take this," she said with the purest sincerity, pushing a couple of bills into his palm. "Now you take care of yourself." When he moved on to the next trash can, she returned. "Let's go. Maybe we can talk to some other people around town."

I stood up to follow him, but Gwen clutched on to my elbow. "Hey, I know this is important to you, but that's not who you're looking for."

I ignored her, pulling her with me along the sidewalk.

"Alright, just stop it. What are you going to do - have him prove who he is by picking through some trinkets he owned in a past life? Because Joel," she nodded at him as he dug through more refuse, "he's gonna say they're all his." She softened a little then, tilting her face at me. "Just let him be, okay?"