ShazamGrrl1
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(9/8/02 6:36 pm)
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Speak No Evil
By Cynthia Finnegan
All characters © 2001, DC Comics Inc., a Time/Warner/AOL company.
Used without permission & not for profit. Capt. Marvel created by Wm. Parker & C.C. Beck. Freddy Freeman created by Otto Binder & Mac Raboy.
This takes place shortly after “With One Magic Word…” and introduces three new, yet familiar characters.
At an undisclosed location outside the Fawcett City limits, Dr. Thaddeus Bodog Sivana sat broodingly, wondering where his magnificent scheme went wrong. By rights, the city should have capitulated and given him the money. Not that he needed the fifty million; he had vast resources of untapped wealth, but, well, a little pocket-change does come in handy, sometimes.
He used an electromagnetic device called the Power Leech on Fawcett City, causing massive blackouts, traffic jams, and plunging the city, and perhaps the world later on, into utter chaos. He had Fawcett on the ropes, but then a red-suited impediment calling himself, of all things, ‘Captain Marvel’, stepped in and ruined everything. If it hadn’t been for some quick thinking and a handy teleporter, Beautia would have been in the hands of the authorities.
I must find out everything I can about this “Captain Marvel”, the evil genius thought, and soon, so I can prepare to wipe him from the face of the Earth before he finds me…
Meanwhile, at another undisclosed location, a young man prepared to sell his soul.
Timothy Karnes had set up an elaborate ritual to summon the Prince of Darkness. He wanted what all dabblers in the Dark Arts want; power over all creatures. He shaved his head and set the circle, then he fasted, chanted and flogged himself for three days and nights, as the volumes his late teachers wouldn’t let him see instructed.
On the borderline of the third and fourth days, Tim performed one last evil chant, putting all of his willpower into it. Seconds after he intoned the last note, a great plume of smoke billowed out of the circle, accompanied by the most appalling stench of sulfur, brimstone and decay. When the fumes cleared, an enormous, gray-skinned figure stood inside the circle; his huge, bull-horned head brushing against the ceiling.
“WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME, TIMOTHY KARNES?" The creature demanded, its voice seemingly everywhere.
“I crave a boon from you, Dark Lord,” Karnes replied avidly, abasing himself before the being. “I want the gift of power.”
“SUCH A GIFT I CAN GIVE, BUT I DEMAND SOMETHING OF YOU IN RETURN."
“Anything! Just tell me what it is and it’s yours!”
“THEN BEHOLD!" A vision flashed into Karnes’ twisted mind; it was the image of a young boy with blue-black hair and blue eyes. The facial features were indistinct, but Karnes could tell that the boy was homeless and worked as a newsboy. Just then, the image changed to a man in crimson and gold.
“THIS WHELP HAS BEEN GIVEN POWERS BY AN OLD FOE OF MINE. FIND HIM, KILL HIM AND YOU WILL HAVE POWER BEYOND YOUR WILDEST DREAMS.
“I GIVE YOU THESE POWERS TO DEFEAT HIM: FROM MYSELF, SATAN, YOU WILL GAIN INVINCIBLE STRENGTH. ANY WILL GRANT YOU AN INDESTRUCTIBLE BODY. BELIAL GIVES YOU HIS GREAT WISDOM. THE FLAME POWERS OF BEELZEBUB ARE YOURS TO CALL UPON. ASMODEUS GRANTS YOU HIS EVIL COURAGE, AND CRAETEIS, THE ABILITY TO FLY.
“ALL YOU NEED DO IS SAY THE WORD ‘SABBAC."
Karnes shouted “SABBAC!”, and in response, a bolt of black lightning flashed up from below the ground, striking the young man.
An instant later, he was transformed into something out of a nightmare.
Never handsome to begin with, Tim Karnes had become even uglier than before. His huge bucked teeth, better suited for a horse’s mouth than a human’s, became needle-sharp fangs. His body was taller and heavily muscled, almost freakishly so and his garments changed from black to blood-red. The only things that hadn’t changed were his eyes; they were still the same dead, cold gray of lead slugs.
“NOW GO FORTH, SABBAC, MY SON IN EVIL! FIND THE BOY AND DO AS I BID!" the voice boomed as Sabbac flew forth into the night.
A few days later…
Well, so long, old corner, the young newsboy thought as he walked through the park towards school, still not-quite believing everything that had happened to him in the past few days, ‘cause starting today, I’m working at Station WHIZ for real!
Just three months ago, he had been left orphaned when his parents, a pair of prominent archeologists, were murdered while on a dig in Egypt and his twin sister, Mary, disappeared and was presumed dead. Soon after their funeral, Billy’s guardian, his uncle Ebenezer, had cast the boy out into the streets to fend for himself. Then, while working as a newsboy, he received truly unimaginable powers from an old wizard. He only had to say the ancient’s name, Shazam, to become a big, tall fellow dressed in red and gold called Captain Marvel, and met a mad scientist named Sivana, who vowed to destroy him.
This morning was a good one. It was a clear, cold December morning as perfect as any could be. Autumn flowers were still blooming, geese were winging there way south, and Billy had a new job at WHIZ-TV, Amalgamated Broadcasting System’s main affiliate. School would be out for Christmas soon, and his tenth birthday was fast approaching, too. This would be his first birthday without his family, and Billy had worked like a fiend to get his grades back up to his usual A+ level.
Mom, Dad and Mary would’ve wanted that…
Costanza Park was a convenient shortcut; it shaved at least five minutes off Billy’s walking time and, even during the Winter, it was a pleasant hike from his temporary home inside the old subway station. He was running a little late, just a minute or two, so he picked up his pace and went off the path. A few moments later, the lad tripped over something and sprawled to the ground, dropping his books and papers in front of him.
Holy Moley, what was that?! He turned his head to see what caused him to fall and his eyes beheld a grisly sight.
It was the body of a boy his own age.
Oh, my God…
Billy had never seen a dead body before, and this boy bore a superficial resemblance to him: tousled black hair and blue eyes, but the remains of his clothes were more ragged than Billy’s old ones were. From what he could see, this other boy’s whole body was covered with slash marks, and from the look in his eyes, the last hours of his young life were a haze of pain and fear. Upon seeing the gaping hole in the other boy’s chest where his heart should have been, the boy reporter did the only logical thing he could. He found the nearest pay phone and called the police, found the closest stand of bushes and lost his breakfast, and then he broke down crying.
A few minutes later, the police arrived and questioned Billy until he thought he would scream. No, he didn’t know who the boy was. Yes, that’s the way he found the body. No, he didn’t move or touch anything. Billy overheard the detective approaching him say to the patrolman that this boy was the third body they found in a week, and that he would escort the young witness to school. He recognized the detective; it was Inspector Woolfolk, the father of his classmate, Daphne.
“Hello there, Billy,” Woolfolk said, kneeling to the boy’s level and trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “You ready to go?”
“Uh-huh,” the boy replied absently as he stared resolutely at the tops of his new shoes.
“Maybe I should take you home and have your uncle call the doctor.”
“No!” Billy said frantically. If anyone finds out that Uncle Ebenezer threw me out… they’ll ship me off to the state home!
“No,” he continued entreatingly, “just… take me to school. Please?”
Poor little fellow’s as pale as a sheet, the police inspector thought as he escorted the boy to his car, and looks as though he’s going to be sick again. This is his first murder, and I’d better treat him with kid gloves, for his sake.
As Woolfolk drove Billy the rest of the way to school, he attempted to engage the boy in conversation, hoping that commonplaces would take his young mind off of what he had seen, and it seemed to be working. They made one stop along the way; a hamburger shop. The Inspector bought Billy a chocolate milkshake to give the growing boy a little nourishment and remove the taste of sour bile from his mouth. And this seemed to be working, too; the youngster looked a lot less green and actually perked up a bit.
As they enter the school, Mrs. Wormwood, the principal of the Binder School, met the boy and the detective in the hall and Billy realized exactly how tardy he really was.
“I hope you have a very good explanation for why you’re an hour late, Mr. Batson,” she said, her arms crossed over her ample chest.
I’m dead. I am so dead, he thought as he looked up at the stern woman. Even if I told her the truth , she’d never believe it…
“I --- No, I don’t,” Billy replied.
“I’m afraid it’s my fault, Mrs. Wormwood,” the inspector interrupted, genuinely concerned. The last thing Woolfolk wanted was for Billy to get into trouble for doing the right thing! He took Mrs. Wormwood aside and continued, “Billy found a body this morning; he was answering a few questions, and seeing it made him rather ill.”
“A body?” she said, horrified as she looked from the boy to the detective. “What body…?”
“A boy around his age, maybe a little younger, and definitely homeless. He’s the third one in a week, and all three of them bore a strong resemblance to Billy.”
When the two adults noticed Billy trying to hear what they were saying, Mrs. Wormwood said, “You’re excused this time, Mr. Batson. Now get to Ms. Shepard’s class before you’re too much later and miss it completely. If you’ll excuse me, Inspector, I have a new student to enroll.”
Soon, Billy was in Ms. Shepard’s English class. It was his favorite of the day because it had no set structure and she used Creative Writing and Storytelling as teaching tools. Of course, Ms. Shepard was also the nicest teacher in the whole school; even the older kids liked her. A few minutes later, Mrs. Wormwood arrived with the new student in tow, an almost pretty boy that some of the other kids, especially school bully Ryan Thomas, were calling a “sissy”, or worse.
The new boy was a little taller than Billy and almost pretty, with thick, blue-black hair, slightly slanted, sapphire blue eyes and was as thin as a rail. His clothes, a blue sweater, a white shirt and gray pants, were old, but still good enough to wear to church if he wanted to. As he looked at his new classmates, one of them called him a filthy name, which elicited an angry look from Ms. Shepard.
“Everyone, can I have your attention, please?” Ms. Shepard said as she presented the new student to his classmates. “This is our new student, Freddy Freeman. Freddy comes to us from Portland, Maine by way of New York City. Freddy, why don’t you take the seat in front of Billy over there?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Freddy replied, self-consciously running his hand through his hair, every last strand falling neatly back into place. He had heard the nasty comments about his looks, but chose to ignore them. The last thing he was going to do was let a bully know just how much those remarks hurt him. As Freddy took his seat, the boy the teacher called “Billy” held out his hand in greeting.
“Hi, I’m Billy Batson,” he said with a grin.
“Freddy Freeman. Hi,” he replied, turning in his chair and returning his handshake. “You weren’t one of the jerks calling me names when I came in, were you?”
Billy looked at Freddy suspiciously and said, “No. Why?”
“Good, then I won’t have to kick your butt for you after school.” The look on Freddy’s face let Billy know that it wasn’t a threat, but that he was playing around.
“You wish,” Billy muttered good-naturedly, knowing right then that this was the start of a beautiful friendship.
I’d forgotten how cold it gets here…
Dudley H. Batson returned to town to catch up with his brothers, Ebenezer and Charlie, regale his sister-in-law Marilyn with his travel tales, and play doting uncle to his nephew and niece, Billy and Mary, whom he adored. Being a travelling man, he had been out of touch with his family for a few years. The last time, he and Ebenezer had another fight over Eben’s favorite subject, money, and Charlie wound up caught in the middle.
A rotund, genial, balding man of late middle years, Dudley had been a bit of a traveling con-man and street magician since he left college. But unlike most people in his profession, he only conned other grifters; people who preyed on widows, orphans and the elderly, and he only kept what he needed to get to the next town.
How old are Billy and Mary now? Nine… ten? No, wait, they’ll be ten this birthday, Dudley mused. They’ve probably grown so much, I won’t be able to… Great Godfrey, is that what I look like? I look a mess!
Dudley caught sight of his reflection in a mirror in a store window and, right now, he looked more like the hippie he was than his normal, dapper self. He had been on the road for a couple of months and it showed. His mostly-white hair was almost shoulder-length and he now sported a long, white beard. The once-nice suit he had on was non the better for wear, and his shoes were a disaster, as well.
Correction, I look like Santa Claus on the hobo. I’d better buy a newspaper and find myself a room to let. But first, I’d better go to the barber, the bank and a haberdashery. If I show up at the house looking like this, I might scare the kids silly.
An hour later, a clipped and clean-shaven Dudley stepped out of Citizens’ Bank on Oak and Main, where he kept an account since he was a teenager, with enough money to rent a room and buy a couple of nice suits. He noticed the newsstand as he arrived at the bank, and decided to get his paper there. He needed a place to stay, and he would not stay under the same roof with Ebenezer. There was no two ways about it. They simply could not abide each other.
As he paid the elderly proprietor for the copy of the Post, Dudley noticed the headline.
“Still No Clues In Murder of Prominent Archeologists.
“Egyptian authorities still have no leads in the double-homicide of local archeologists Charles and Marilyn Batson, nor in the abduction of their nine-year-old daughter, Mary, four months ago. According to witnesses, the Batsons’ assistant, Theo Adam, was the alleged perpetrator of the crimes…”
My God, Lyn and Charlie…are dead? Dudley thought, his heart sinking. Mary’s vanished? How? And what’s become of Billy?
“Excuse me, sir, but do you know what happened to their son?” Dudley asked the newsstand’s proprietor, Jacob Freeman, who had taken over the newsstand after the original owner had sold it to him and left town a few days ago.
“I dunno, mister. I’m new here, m’self,” Freeman, a robust, mustachioed former fisherman, replied. “Moved here from New York t’ get m’ grandson away from the bad element.”
Dudley paid for his paper and walked away, his head reeling. He felt that there was only one person in the entire city who could tell him what had happened to Charlie, Lyn and little Mary. It was the same person who most likely had custody of young Billy.
Ebenezer.
A quick cab ride later, Dudley arrived at the manor house that he was raised in. He climbed up the steps and rang the doorbell, not knowing what to expect. A maid opened the door. She was new; hired after Ebenezer threw Billy into the streets to fend for himself.
“I need to speak to Mr. Batson, please, now,” Dudley said.
“Whom may I say is calling?” she asked.
“Mr. Batson’s brother.” He knew that would get Eben’s attention. Minutes later, the man himself descended the staircase, dressed in a black business suit. But even then, you could not tell that they were brothers; they were as completely opposite as people get. Eben was tall, thin and saturnine, while Dudley was shorter and more robust.
In fact, the only thing the two brothers had in common was male pattern baldness, which Charlie didn’t inherit.
“What do you want here, Dudley?” Ebenezer demanded curtly, adjusting his glasses.
“All I want is to find out what happened to our brother, his wife and their daughter, Eben. I’m not here to fight with you.”
“Charles was killed in an on-site accident; a cave-in, I believe. Marilyn died at the hotel. And the girl…”
“Mary, Eben. Her name’s Mary.”
“I know, I know. Mary simply vanished. No one’s seen her since.”
“Where’s Billy? In school?”
“Oh yes, he’s in school; a boarding school in England, and I don’t expect to see him until possibly Christmas Eve.”
“Well,” Dudley said sharply as he turned to leave, “I see you’ve covered all your bases, Eben, as usual. You’re a very busy man, so I won’t keep you any longer.”
He’s lying. I know he is, he thought as he hailed another taxi to take him to a building with rooms to let. A cab stopped, and as he opened the door, a bus stopped at the light. On the side of the bus was an ad for the WHIZ-7 news, hyping their new investigative reporter. It was when Dudley took a closer look at the caption under the picture that stunned him.
“Billy… Batson!?”
Throughout the day, Billy had noticed that the new kid, Freddy Freeman, shared many of the same classes with him, even PE. Mr. Briscoe’s History class was the last of the day, and once again, Freddy was there, this time sitting in the row next to him.
::Billy,:: came a voice in Billy’s mind.
“Great Sir?” Billy asked in a barracks-whisper, then realized only he could “hear” the voice.
::Yes, lad. You are in grave danger, and I need to speak to you of it as soon as possible. Come to the old tunnel after your class.::
:You’re in luck, Great Sir. Final bell rings in three minutes, so I’ll be there in four.:
“Billy? You okay?” Freddy whispered, looking like his new friend like he had lost his mind.
“Hmm? Oh sure, Freddy, just thinking.”
“Is there something you boys wish to share with the rest of the class?” Mr. Briscoe asked, his annoyance at the disruption obvious.
“No, sir,” the boys said, almost in unison. About a minute later, the final bell rang and everyone ran out of the classroom. As Billy headed for the doors, with Freddy not far away, his friend, Cissie Summerly, stopped him.
“Billy! Wait up!” the pretty strawberry blonde called out urgently.
“What’s wrong, Cissie?” Billy asked.
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but Ryan Thomas has been bragging that he’s going to beat you and your new ‘boyfriend’ up at lunchtime tomorrow.”
“Ryan Thomas,” Freddy queried as he approached, “is he the one who called me a…?”
“’Fraid so, Freddy,” Billy replied. “Sorry your first day here sucked so badly.”
“I’m not; I’ve taken the scales off a few bullies before, and most of ’em bigger than me. This guy’s just like the ones back home, and if he wants a fight, I’ll give him one.”
“We will. You’re not the only one he says he’s gonna beat up, Freddy. Besides, I’ve been taking karate at the Youth Center for a coupla months, so I can handle myself pretty well.”
“Why were you so late this morning, Billy?” Cissie asked, changing the subject. “Mrs. Wormwood was really on the warpath!”
He sighed resignedly. “I found a body on the way here this morning; a kid our age. I called the police and they kept me there for almost an hour. Daphne’s dad drove me the rest of the way.”
“A body?” Freddy inquired, swallowing audibly. “You mean a real… dead…?”
“Body. Yep; made me sick to my stomach, too.” Billy looked at his watch. “Shoot! I’ve gotta go! I have to be somewhere, right now! Seeya tomorrow!”
Billy ran off, waving at Freddy and Cissie as he left. He ducked into an alley and, after a moment, a loud clap of thunder could be heard, and if anyone had looked towards the alley, they would have seen a red and gold blur leave.
Captain Marvel arrived at the abandoned subway station a few seconds after Billy called the old wizard’s name. He flew into the tunnel faster than the eye could follow and suddenly found himself in Shazam’s chamber. As he alighted in front of the statues of the Seven Deadly Enemies of Man, he noticed that the firepits in front of the statues had been extinguished since Billy was first brought here, and the chamber was plunged into near-total darkness.
Striking two stones together, Captain Marvel ignited the firepit in front of the statue of Pride. He picked up a torch that lay near Shazam’s throne and lit the remaining hearths with it, then he lit the brazier next to the throne and put the torch back in its bracket. A faint rumble of thunder later, the ancient wizard appeared, sitting on his throne, his grave yet kindly face was noticeably troubled.
“Greetings, my son,” Shazam said. “No doubt you know why I have called you here.”
“Yes,” the hero replied, himself bothered by the morning’s event. “The boy Billy found on his way to school…”
“Was the third such death in a week. Unfortunately, there will be another poor lad found on the morrow. The perpetrator of these crimes is a twisted parody of you, created by the forces of evil. He is also a sorcerer, but not a powerful one, not yet. He uses pain to increase his power.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him, short of killing him. What else can I do?”
“You must be vigilant, my son,” Shazam said, placing a fatherly hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “This creature is a monster, and will stop at nothing to kill the one he is looking for.”
“Who is this person, Great Sir, and who’s the one he’s hunting for? I need to know, so I can protect him.”
“His name is Timothy Karnes, my son, and the one he seeks is you.”
Captain Marvel flew out of the station deeply troubled, stopping just long enough to gather Billy’s belongings into a backpack and continued on to WHIZ-TV. Until Karnes is captured, he reasoned, it’ll be safer for Billy if he didn’t stay here.
Moments later, he landed in the alley between the WHIZ and Beck Buildings, said his magic word and became Billy once again. As he entered the lobby, Billy found his new boss waiting for him.
“Billy! There you are,” Morris said, his relief obvious. Sterling Morris was the kind of man who engendered fierce loyalty in his employees. He did this by treating even the lowliest intern like a star, paying better-than-fair wages, instituting full company paid insurance and even opening up a daycare center.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Morris,” Billy rejoined as the media head clipped a badge on the front of the youngster’s sweater. “I was delayed.”
“Late? Nonsense! You’re just in time for the nickel tour. What I clipped onto your sweater is your employee pass. They’re also your press credentials. You leave it here at the security desk when you go home at night.”
“Yes, sir.” I wish I could tell him that I don’t have a home to go to.
“And now for the rest of the facility…”
Billy was actually glad for the semi-enforced tour; he got to learn the lay of the building and found several places where he could stow his gear. Morris explained to him his work schedule and let Billy know that, due to child labor laws, a tutor would be hired to help him keep up with his schoolwork. But the biggest surprise came when they reached the thirtieth floor.
Mr. Morris guided the boy through the maze of people and cubicles to a frosted glass and wood door with “William M. Batson” in gold letters.
“This --- is this MY office?!” Billy stammered, taken aback. Once again, he had dropped his “adult-in-miniature” persona and became a child.
“Indeed it is, Billy,” Morris replied. “Go in and take a look.”
Billy gripped the doorknob, gave it a twist and entered the outer office where his secretary, if and when he hired one, would be situated. There were filing cabinets and bookshelves along two of the walls and a new computer with the latest software resided on the secretary’s desk. When he entered the inner office, HIS space, his jaw dropped.
It was ENORMOUS!
More of the ubiquitous bookcases lined the wall on the right. There was a mini stereo with a CD player on the middle shelf, and an overstuffed and very comfortable looking sofa was against the left wall with an end table next to it. There was a huge desk in the middle of the room that had a laptop computer on it, thick pile carpeting on the floors, and the windows opened as well, so Captain Marvel also had an entrance. Mr. Morris brought him back to reality by reminding him that he had a newscast to prepare for.
As the boy and his new employer headed up to the studio, Billy knew he would be spending his nights in his new office, sleeping on that wonderful couch. But first, he was going to give an exclusive report of the city’s new protector and how he saved the town from the threat of the Phantom Scientist.
Hours later, Mr. Morris was checking on something on the thirtieth floor when he heard a noise. He traced it to its source: Billy’s office. Opening the door, Morris saw the boy on the sofa; asleep, but not soundly. Apparently, he was deep in the throes of a nightmare and knocked an empty plastic tumbler off the end table while he kicked off his blanket.
Hey, how did that window get opened? The media mogul picked the glass and set it back on the table, then closed the window, straightened out Billy’s blanket and tucked it around the boy. Billy murmured something and fell back to sleep.
I wonder what he’s doing here? Morris thought as he left. I guess he’ll tell me what’s going on sooner or later.
I should’ve had kids.
The next day was much the same, except at noon. Lunchtime saw six youngsters being hauled to the principal’s office for fighting. Billy, Freddy Freeman and Cissie Summerly were all scratched and bruised, and Freddy now had a bruise under his eye for his trouble, but Ryan Thomas and his crew, who were in Mrs. Wormwood’s office getting yelled at, were worse off than they.
Freddy had given Ryan a bloodied nose when he and Marty Horn tackled Billy. Cissie scratched her calves up badly when Brad Taylor tried to cuff her on the jaw and she kneed him in the breadbasket, and Billy’s back was scraped from being double-teamed. When it was all over, Cissie, Billy and Freddy each received three hours detention, to be served the next Saturday, but Ryan and his gang were suspended for two weeks for starting a fight.
Later that afternoon, as the old wizard predicted, a forth victim was found in the park, this time by a lady walking her dog. Like the boy Billy found the day before, this one was homeless, but he had parents who loved him and were weeping openly when the coroner zipped him up in a body-bag and loaded him into the ambulance. Like Billy, he had blue-black hair and blue eyes, but this boy had something else in common with the boy reporter.
He was a newsboy.
Billy was there as a reporter this time, not a witness, and he noticed a black panel van creep past the scene. He couldn’t get the license number, but he did get a good look at the driver and passenger. Two men; a blond and a skinhead. I’ll just bet they had something to do with these deaths, Billy thought as he looked at the van. He decided right then that he would have to put his own neck at risk before someone else lost their son.
Karnes and his old “friend”, Nigel Stewart, crept by the scene in a black, late-model panel van. A young, muscular Englishman with a shock of bleached blond hair, Nigel was as handsome as Karnes was ugly. Nigel knew what made Karnes tick, and vice versa. Karnes, for some unknown reason, needed to find a particular boy, and since Tim’s face could frighten the strongest individual, it was up to him to catch the boy. As long as he didn’t know what Karnes did with them, he was cool with it.
As they turned onto Oak Street, Karnes pointed out another boy with blue-black hair hawking papers with an old man at the newsstand in front of the bank. Nigel got out of the vehicle and left his coin pouch on the front seat, leaving it as an enticement. The promise of money was what got the last one. As Nigel walked to the stand, Karnes pulled the van around to the alley behind the bank, then Nigel whistled and signaled to the boy.
“Hey, kid,” the young man with the slicked-back blond hair hollered at Freddy in a heavy British accent. “Gimme a copy of the Post, willya?”
“You got it, mister!” Freddy ran from the newsstand up to the young man to give him the newspaper and collect his money. “That’ll be fifty cents.”
“Oh, bugger,” the blond man grumbled as he checked his pockets.
“What wrong, mister?”
“I left my coin pouch in my van. If you’ll come with me, I’ll get yer money for you.”
“My grandpa told me never to follow a stranger,” Freddy said, eyeing the man suspiciously.
“Sensible advice, but you do wanna get paid, don’ ye?”
“Well, yeah, I should hope I do.”
“All right, then, come on, shake a leg.” The man said as he walked off.
Freddy accompanied the blond-haired man guardedly, keeping an eye on him at all times. Something wasn’t right about this, but his grandparents needed the money from the paper. As they approached an older model black van, someone grabbed him around the shoulders in an attempt to force the boy into the vehicle.
“LEMME GO!”
“Shut up, ye punk! Just shut up and nothing will happen to you!”
Freddy punched, kicked, bit and screamed until his captor slapped him hard across the mouth and told him once again to shut up. After he had thrown him into the back of the van, the scrawny, older teen with the clean-shaven head and huge bucked teeth held the lad’s face up to the light. He looked like a refugee from a Marilyn Manson video.
“What a beautiful boy you’ve brought this time, Nigel. Look at him! He has to be the right one this time!”
“Leggo of me, you pervert!” Freddy yelled in outrage, trying to pull away. “GRANDPA!!”
“I thought I told ye to shut up, ye stupid little git!” Nigel snarled as he whipped a sickly sweet-smelling rag out of a zip-lock bag in his coat pocket and pressed it to Freddy’s nose and mouth, knocking him out.
As the boy’s eyes rolled back and he lost his grip on reality, he heard Nigel say, “This is sick, Tim. I want out of it, as soon as possible.”
“No, not yet,” Karnes told him, “I want to get one more boy, just in case he’s not the right one. And this time, Nige, use the ether first. I don’t want another screaming brat on my hands.”
They drove around town, looking for another victim. A few minutes later, they found what they were looking for. Another newsboy the same age and with almost the same coloring as Freddy, but with short, tousled hair, and wearing a red and yellow sweatshirt…
Freddy woke up from his ether-induced stupor with a raging headache and an overwhelming need to heave, but unable to do so with the gag in his mouth. He was locked in a cage big enough for a large dog, with his hands bound to the bars on either side of his head. The boy, realizing his peril, began to shiver, not with cold, but with fear.
“Hey, are you okay?” a concerned voice, young like Freddy’s, asked. “Nah, didn’t think so. Good thing I held my breath when they ‘caught’ me; ether’s nasty stuff and the last thing I wanna do is barf again.”
Freddy looked to see who spoke. In a separate cage was another boy about his age that he almost seemed to recognize. Raven-haired, like him, but this other boy had bright blue eyes, like the stones in the silver rings that Grandma bought in New Mexico last summer. Before his Mom and Dad died. Like Freddy, the other boy’s hands were bound, but he was not nearly as scared as he should be. In fact, the other boy wasn’t frightened at all; he acted as though he planned to get caught.
Why isn’t he gagged? Freddy thought, knowing that he was because “Karnes” didn’t want him screaming…yet.
“Freddy?” Freddy nodded yes. “It’s Billy Batson. I sit right behind you in Ms. Shepard’s class, remember? Don’t worry, Captain Marvel’s a friend of mine. He’s gonna get us out of this mess.”
“I rather doubt that, little boy,” Karnes said with a superior air. “Nigel, take this one...” he gestured to Freddy, “...to the can. I imagine that he’s suffering from the ether and would like to throw up right now. You know what to do with him when he’s gotten himself cleaned up.”
“Leave him alone, you monster!” Billy yelled, struggling against his own bonds. “It’s ME you...!”
“Shaddup, ye little skank!” Nigel yelled back, pulling a switchblade out of his jeans pocket and threatening Billy with it. “Yer gonna be next, so just shut yer cakehole!”
He slid the sharp blade in-between Freddy’s wrists and the bars, parting the ropes with a snap. The cage door opened, allowing Karnes to reach in and pull the boy to his feet. The young man removed the gag from the boy’s mouth, causing him to retch, but not spit up and Karnes handed Freddy a rag, in case he decided to heave on the way to the bath. ‘Nigel’ grabbed Freddy by the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards the bathroom while Karnes left for his ‘workroom’, leaving Billy alone.
Once they were well out of the room, Billy shouted, “SHAZAM!”.
A bolt of magic lightning crashed through the window and struck him, transforming the boy once again into the mighty form of Captain Marvel. The red and gold clad hero stood amongst the wreckage of Billy’s prison, angry with both Billy and Freddy’s mistreatment at the hands of these would-be Black Magicians, and the fact that while he’d been searching for them, they had been hunting for him.
Or rather, for Billy.
If you’ve harmed that boy, I swear I’ll make you pay… he thought angrily. It was as if the spirits of the fiend’s victims were with Captain Marvel, pleading with him to act as their instrument of vengeance.
Freddy found himself bound spread-eagle to a huge, flat slab of marble. He could smell the sulfurous stench of brimstone wafting throughout the room and nearly jumped out of his skin as a pair of hands touched him, ripping open his good shirt. He heard himself saying no, but he might as well have been talking to himself for all the good it did. He lifted his head and saw that Karnes was now standing next to him. His black robes opened, showing a hideous mark burned onto his chest. Outside, a clap of thunder shook the windows as the brave young boy began to struggle.
“Don’t fight me, boy,” Karnes growled, moving towards Freddy with a very sharp knife. “It’s so much easier if you don’t fight me.”
“Mister, please, don’t hurt me,” Freddy said, feeling both his panic and anger rising. “I... I’m only ten... I don’t wanna die... My... my grandma and grandpa will do anything! Just lemme go! Please!!”
“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. You can identify me by my scars. Besides, breaking you is going to be so much fun…”
The fiend was laughing, taking sadistic pleasure in his young victim’s torment. Karnes grabbed a fistful of the boy’s thick, wavy hair and laid the dagger against his throat, about to cut him, when a tall, powerfully built man clad in crimson, gold and white burst in, smashing the heavy, oaken door to splinters. Captain Marvel burst into the chamber, dragging the unconscious Nigel behind him.
“Let him go, NOW!” the hero growled, anger flashing in his eyes like lightning.
“So I was wrong; you were the other brat, after all,” Karnes replied with a fiendish grin, still pressing the knife to Freddy’s throat. “And there you stand. Good. Now I won’t have to wait to say… SABBAC!”
A bolt of black lightning boiled up from the ground and struck Karnes, transforming him. He was taller, broader in the shoulders, his bucked teeth were now razor-sharp fangs and his ebon robes turned to blood red. The old wizard had warned Captain Marvel that the forces of darkness had created a warped caricature of him, and now, the World’s Mightiest Mortal was standing in front of this creature of demonic magic.
“Suck on this, hero!” the evil being gestured, a stream of Beelzebub’s flame shooting out of his hand. It hit Captain Marvel full in the chest…
…And had absolutely no effect. The World’s Mightiest Mortal shrugged off the bolt of Hellfire and closed in on his monstrous foe. As he came closer, the fiend pressed his dagger tighter to his young victim’s throat, causing the fearless boy to wince as the flesh beneath the razor-sharp blade began to part.
“Oh, please keep coming… what did they call you in the paper? Captain Marvel?… and I’ll start dissecting this little punk right in front of you.”
“No, you won’t!”
Using a portion of the speed of Mercury, Captain Marvel rushed forward, caught Sabbac’s wrist in a crushing grip and snatched the knife from the vile creature’s grasp. He casually flung the blade into the wall behind him, where it sunk up to the quillions and vibrated from the force. He then leveled a punch that would have killed a normal man at Sabbac, but it only stunned the sorcerer and split his lower lip open. The hero realized that Sabbac was almost as invulnerable as he.
Almost, but not quite.
“Is that the best you can do?” Sabbac sneered tauntingly, shaking his head to clear the bells ringing in his ears and wiping some blood from his now-split lip.
“No,” Cap replied furiously, lifting the sorcerer to his feet by his collar, “and neither is this!”
Once again utilizing his incredible strength and speed, Captain Marvel delivered a flurry of kicks and punches to his foe’s face and body, knowing that Solomon’s wisdom guided each of his blows. Thank Heaven for those karate lessons Billy’s been taking. He scored many hits, and although the demon-mage blocked a few of Cap’s better shots, and even scored a few hits on the hero, the super-speed battering was beginning to take a heavy toll on Sabbac.
I… I don’t understand! The red-robed villain thought as the World’s Mightiest Mortal kept up the beating. Satan himself gave me these powers to kill him, yet I can’t !!
As a last-ditch effort, Sabbac flew through the building, trying to find another way out. He seemed to sense that he was a dead man if Captain Marvel ever caught him.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Captain Marvel shouted after his foe. “There’s no way you’re escaping from me!”
He flew after Sabbac, easily keeping pace with him. It was only a matter of moments until the World’s Mightiest Mortal caught him.
I---I can’t lose him! Sabbac thought frantically, trying to get away from his dogged pursuer. [/i]Master… Lord of Darkness, help me![/i]
“YOU HAVE FAILED ME, TIMOTHY KARNES," a cold voice filled with dark, ancient intensity boomed throughout the building; even Captain Marvel could hear it. “YOU ARE NOT WORTHY TO BEAR THE GIFTS OF POWER WHICH I BESTOWED UPON YOU."
“No… NOOOOOO!!”
Once again, black lightning boiled up from the ground and struck in mid-air, returning Sabbac to his normal form of Timothy Karnes. As Karnes fell from the sky, screaming for help, Captain Marvel swooped down to catch the child-killer by the waistband his pants.
“Please, don’t kill me!” Karnes wailed in the same tone that his victims used.
“Shut up, Karnes!” Captain Marvel snapped. “I’m not going to kill you, but I will make sure that you spend the rest of you pathetic existence in prison for your crimes! If the state wants you to pay with your life, that’s their business! Either way, you’ll never harm another child again; I’ll see to that!”
The moment they touched down, Karnes passed out. Captain Marvel found some rope and bound both young men wrist and ankle, called the police, giving Billy the credit for Karnes and Nigel’s capture, then went back to the room where Freddy was being held.
When Captain Marvel once again entered the chamber, Freddy looked up at him in a daze, not believing what he was seeing. He was seeing a real, live superhero in the flesh, but was too groggy to appreciate it. While the hero snapped the boy’s bonds, he noticed the cut on Freddy’s neck; it was small, less than a half an inch long, and the blood had already clotted, sealing the wound. But it was the fact that Freddy was shivering and sweating profusely that had the hero worried.
Poor Freddy’s burning up, the Captain thought, touching the boy’s sweat-drenched face. It must be ether poisoning. I’d better get him to a doctor… fast!
EPILOGUE
Later, at St. Joseph’s Hospital, Freddy awoke to see his grandparents, Jacob and Elisabeth Freeman, standing worriedly over him. Jacob felt the lad's brow for signs of a fever, while Elizabeth, a tiny sparrow of a woman, fussed over her ‘little boy’s’ blankets. Freddy had to keep his right eye closed to see straight; the ether poisoning had given him an odd double-vision, turning everything in his that eye askew. He also had a bandage on his neck from where Karnes’ dagger had cut him.
“Gramma? Grandpa? Where’m I? Wha’ ha’n’d?” Freddy murmured torpidly, his tongue not wanting to cooperate with his brain.
“Hush now, Freddy,” Elizabeth replied, then kissed his forehead. “You’re in the hospital. You’ve been very sick for the past few days, sweetheart, but you’re going to be fine.”
“There’s someone here t’ meet ye, m’lad,” Jacob added, then stood aside. Standing behind the old gent was a tall, crimson and gold clad figure. Captain Marvel, the World’s Mightiest Mortal, gave the boy an encouraging smile as he drew closer to the bed.
“Hello, Freddy,” the Captain said, extending his hand in greeting. “My pal Billy Batson told me about your being sick, so I asked your grandparents if I could pay you a visit. I brought you this…”
What Captain Marvel brought was a framed photo of himself. It was even autographed, and the inscription read: “To my pal, Freddy – Get well soon! Best Wishes, Captain Marvel.”
“Wow. Thanks,” was all the star-struck boy could say.
“You’d better get some rest now, Freddy. Meningitis is nothing to fool around with,” Jacob said, gave his grandson a kiss on his forehead, then he ushered his wife and the hero out of the room.
As they walked down the hall, the Captain turned to Jacob. He had already told the Freemans the full story about Karnes and what he was up to, only leaving out why Sabbac went after Billy in the first place.
“Mr. Freeman, I don’t like anyone lying to Freddy about his ordeal…”
“Neither do I, young man, but it’ll be safer for him if he doesn’t remember what happened to him back there. I love that boy. He’s the only grandchild I’ve got, and I won’t have him hurt.”
“I don’t want to see him hurt either, sir, but if the police can’t get the corroborating forensic evidence they need, both he and Billy Batson may have to testify against Karnes.”
“What if he never remembers what happened?” Elizabeth cried. “What then?”
“Then maybe it’s for the best, ma’am,” Cap retorted. “Billy will have to testify, but not by himself. I’ll be there, as well.”
“Captain, I want you to swear that you won’t ever tell Freddy about what happened tonight,” Jacob stated emphatically.
“I can’t promise you that, sir, but I won’t mention tonight’s events to him unless he asks me directly. That’s the only promise I can make about it.”
And neither will Billy, the hero added in afterthought.
For now, only the elder Freemans and Captain Marvel would know the truth of how close Freddy came to death.
FINIS
Edited by: ShazamGrrl1 at: 9/8/02 7:42:42 pm
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