Fan Fiction: Novels
The Shadow Returns

  1935

  A city at night is not what you see in movie reels. A city is, in life, much colder and much stiffer than any misleading view from Hollywood. The good people die, for instance. Sometimes, the good guys and gals have to do things they are not proud of. Sometimes they have to do things — not so nice things — just to get by for a day. New York City could be considered an exception to that rule in many ways. Scenes of the busy streets in midtown, and the bustles of the glitterati and socialites flocking through the high-priced hotels and ritzy social stakeouts like the Cobalt Club, cradling overdone glasses filled with bubbling champagne, were commonly shown on the news reels at the movie theatre. The endless chatter and pointless conversations, spoken of only because you needed something to say about yourself, was what you saw.

  But what was underneath, what made New York City the prime example of the rule, was the lives of many people just making a buck for their families. Maybe not an honest buck, but you made it and kept your mouth shut about it if you knew what was good for you. Otherwise you end up in jail or worse.

  This was where Johnny Martinet found himself tonight, in a panel van with no plates. The back of that van smelled like old sweat. Sitting to the side of his co-conspirators of sorts — a handful of about three men, all looking like they needed to be on murderer's row — Johnny thought about how he had ended up in the midst of a plot to rob the First National Bank.

  Johnny had never been a man of money or means. He was a very meek man who did what he was told, but could not hold a steady desk job. He was so timid that his wife had been the one to ask him for marriage. He had been married to Elaine for two years now. Though they had struggled dearly, Johnny managed to support her, living in a small, run-down home. But Elaine was now pregnant and he knew there would be no chance of the baby's survival if he did not get money. Fast. Luckily — the term used loosely — a wise guy with a cheep suit, oiled hair, and a long nose had talked him into pulling a job for a "needy citizen." Elaine was worth it. He had to agree.

  So there he was, braving the unsteady road on a trip he was getting increasingly nervous about. He was anxious to get it over with so he could get back to Elaine and tell her of his newly found wealth. A "perk" was what he would call it, knowing Elaine would never approve of theft. His whole story was worked out. He shifted uncertainly in his rags of clothing; he looked like a bum and he was tired of it. Still the trip continued. He leaned forward and tried to get the driver's attention.

  "Hey. Are we there yet?" He had not been heard by the driver, not even by his counterparts who all had their sleepy heads buried in their knees. It was around midnight after all. For a moment he pondered their stories. What had brought them to this point? He had to admit, while they seemed quite unsettling, the thought that they may have had troubles like him made him feel a little better and less alone out here in this urban jungle. He repeated himself to the driver a little louder.

  The driver turned and looked at him. It was the same greasy man from the bar in his same greasy suit.

  "Listen Mack, we'll get there when we get..."

  A crashing thud came upon the windshield. A body fell limp on the hood of the car and fell onto the street. The van came alive with obscenities at the abrupt stop of the vehicle. The driver quickly calmed them down, then turned his gaze to Johnny.

  "You idiot! You're gonna blow the whole deal! I..." He was too sick for words. He had to think quickly. He scratched his head like a nervous tick. The person whom they had hit was stirring and was trying to stand up using the hood of the van for support. The wise guy found his composure and turned to face the back of the van.

  "Okay. We'll only be off by couple of minutes. We'll help'em out and then get outta here. You!" He pointed to Johnny. "You get out there and say some kind words and offer any money ya got. And watch your piece." He was, of course, referring to the guns they had all been given. Johnny's gun, a Colt of some kind, was stuffed in the front of his pants, but he was wearing a jacket and it was nighttime so it was no big deal. He was not big on guns.

  Before he could protest, he found himself outside helping an old woman who was obviously homeless. She did not seem to be to hurt; that grease ball had not been driving too fast. Johnny saw that he had rolled his window down and was screaming.

  "Is she all right?"

  He looked her over and saw what could be his future. The street could become his home very soon if any more hiccups came along. He should not have distracted the driver.

  Already fouling up, he told himself. He glanced around the street and felt a strange chill, like they were being watched. He scanned the asphalt and the nearby apartment buildings. The street lights burned his eyes. He had a sensitivity to them; he could not handle direct light in his eyes. He couldn't shake the feeling.

  "Hey! Is she all right?!"

  He turned back to the old woman, who was getting to her feet, and he bent over to grab her. As she came up, she caught a glimpse of his gun and began to shriek. Most likely she had had people mug her before and was terrified of the possibility of it happening again.

  Johnny did not know what to do. He was just as panicked as she was. The greasy wise guy was already out of the car with his gun drawn. She tried to run but she was still mowed out by the accident and she caught a pistol whip to the temple. It took two more hits to the head before she fell to the ground and stopped moving. Johnny stood frozen as if he had somehow played a part in it. Her body was dragged rather lazily to a nearby alley and dumped by Mr. Greasy. Johnny's muscles contracted and he felt like he was going to wet himself or puke, or both.

  The time passed quickly as he was lost in his thoughts. He had been careless with his gun and had caused that woman's death. He could not feel the van starting to move once he got back in. He was numb. Everything was changing. This was supposed to be a simple job. He watched that long-nosed criminal murder her. He murdered her too.

  What have I done?

  "We're here," someone said. They all piled out of the van, Johnny being the last. He moved as if he was tramping though a swamp. He felt heavy.

  "Why you look like you just been to a funeral?" someone asked. He did not know who. He kept his head down at his shoes to hide his tears.

  The plan was going to be quite intricate, but if pulled off correctly no one would know any money was missing until the morning. Johnny knew he would have to act in there; he would have to put everything aside for Elaine. He brought his head up as he walked up to the front entrance. The first thing that caught his eye was a glimmer on the man's left hand ring ringer. The nearby streetlights made the red ring glow a little. Johnny thought it was a nice ring for such as unsavory, obviously not rich man.

  They were about to set up with materials and assorted small explosives brought from the van when a noise caught their ears. It started small, then it grew. Before they could react, it was echoing through their heads. It was nearly ear-piercing.

  Someone was laughing....