PUMPKINSEED (Cabo 12/2018)

Enter A Hero For Our Time

To Our Hero all conflict is an opportunity to showcase prowess. He does not see all of history as layers of battered bones and smashed skulls occupied by bygone heroes. He is a Hero For Our Time. A Now Hero does not know what to make of previous heroes. They grew old. They were defeated. Our Hero cannot comprehend future heroes looking back on his shortcomings.

A Hero for Our Time is a retired Special Forces Manatee. Many do not hear of the SFM because they are so successful. The SFM blend in all locales. They call no attention. Their hearts are steady and strong . . . . beat . . . . beat . . . . beat. When shit hits the fan they are ready to act with easy to clean protective gear. When the propeller hits the shoulder they make no sound.  No sound but . . . . beat . . . . beat . . . . beat as they sumerge, heal, and return to their watchful post always ready for action.

Our Hero of heroes spends his time in the company of other SFMs. They plan, strategize, act, conquer, eat, sleep, and workout. In off hours they watch the waves and the unleashed but not unloved friendly Cabo beach dogs.  World soccer is always playing in the background. Spitting PUMPKINSEEDS and drinking beer, SFMs are happiest in each other's company. They do not know what to make of the other 99.9999991% of the world's population. Others exist to be rescued or subdued. Our Hero is one of the modern knights looking for virtuous (and well paying) quests.

From their Cabo coastal training facility, they get the call that the Modern Barnum has work for them. A single squatter. Seems easy enough, they reason. They do not believe all the stories of carnage and horror. Though they think a single SFM could settle this issue, they send a team of three, including Our Hero, just to make sure and because MB can easily pay such a bill. They pack immediately and are soon off in their  jet towards Vegas. .

In Vegas they meet with The 17th ranked Barnum Barker who drives them up to TBD before nightfall. The SFMs put on their night vision as well as the rest of their gear and head into MB's colosseum turned catacomb. Every student of horror movies knows not to split up upon entering a hostile environment, but every SFM knows to choose bravery over common sense and they each go their own way, though they are connected by voice-activated mikes and shared-eye screens. All see all. All hear all.

Our Hero has not found any bodies yet. Perhaps this monster is tidy, he thinks. In fact, all looks tidy. Nothing looks as if it was dropped. It does not look as if people left in a panic.

Wild Willie, the Crazy Cajun, makes first contact, or at least Our Hero thinks he does. Willie emits a quick grunt and then his camera jerks to the fixed sight in the upper corner of the room Willie is in.  There is no movement in the camera. There is shallow breathing. The other two SFMs make a break to track Willie's signal.

Willie's communication is cut. No screen. No ears. When they arrive at Willie's last location they see no struggle and No Willie.

Daniel, the third SFM, swears with his eyes and spits where Willie should be.

Our Hero's eyes show no response.

Soon they continue their quest agreeing to meet up again in fifteen minutes.

Since the squatter is alerted to their presence, Our Hero starts turning on the lights and removes his night vision. Our Hero is moving so quickly from room to room looking for any slight movement that at some point He losses Daniel's feed and doesn't noticed. A few minutes before he is to meet Daniel, Our Hero realizes that he is now alone. 

Our Hero's body pauses waiting for synapses and muscle memory to click in and command. In that quick stillness, Our Hero feels a slight pressure on his lower neck. Our Hero moves. The pressure tightens painfully. Our Hero moves back. The pressure slacks, but remains taunt.

The Monster.