Superhuman

131

Hutch dreamed of having superpowers as a child. Over time, those dreams faded. Until the unthinkable happened, and Starsky flatlined.

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Chapter One

Hutch sat there, lost in a world of his own. The pocket watch his grandfather had given him had slipped from his grip and onto his lap, the gold chain dangling toward the floor as if hanging on for dear life.

It was well past midnight, and Huggy had taken Dobey home, leaving the captain’s car behind for Hutch. They tried to convince Hutch to go home and get some rest too, but he refused. He needed to keep watch. Like a territorial animal, unbudging in its commitment, fiercely guarding its domain.

“Hey, did you know the hippopotamus is the most territorial of all animals?” Starsky once asked during a boring stakeout as he flipped through an old copy of Reader’s Digest. “It says here, they’re unpredictable and have sharp teeth that can do lethal damage when their territory is threatened.” Starsky smiled and added, “Reminds me of one blond partner of mine.”

Hutch laughed, wondering what Starsky would say if he saw him now. He knew he looked nothing like a hippo or any other ferocious animal as he sat helpless and red-eyed with shoulders slumped against the hard wooden chair. The stiffness in his back and the throbbing pain in his wrist from the knife wound were signs of his weakness and failures. The only thing left to do, that he could control, was to sit and watch over the most important part of his life worth guarding.

He could hear far-off footsteps in the hollow corridors of the hospital, and the periodic ding of the elevator as the nurses made their rounds. Reminders that other people existed, other patients needed care, and other lives were affected by their own tragedies.

For the first time he could remember, Hutch didn’t care about other people.

All that existed was Starsky on the other side of the window, his chest rising and falling in sync with the ventilator, signifying with each pump that he was still alive.

“How did we get here, Starsk?” Hutch whispered to himself.

Hutch tried to shut down the thoughts that were tearing him up inside. Thoughts of how giddy he felt, like a teenager in love. Thoughts of Starsky and his shining eyes as he nestled against Hutch’s chest after a round of passionate lovemaking.

Three short weeks ago, they battled like idiots over Kira, a woman who nearly cost them their friendship. They left Huggy’s bar that night, dressed in identical black leather jackets, arms around each other as they left Kira behind.

“We have to talk,” Starsky said.

“I know,” Hutch replied. “My place?”

“Can’t wait for that. Torino,” Starsky said.

They both took their usual seats in the car, and Starsky took the lead. He took a deep breath and Hutch knew it was time to be silent. To wait for however many shoes Starsky wanted to let drop.

His midnight blue eyes pierced through the night’s blackness, and his voice became so low that Hutch could hardly hear the words that changed everything. “You are the beautiful blond I was waiting for.”

Starsky started the car. “Now, your place.”

Hutch didn’t need to hear anything more. For the first time in a long time, he believed in telepathy, the psychic ability to read minds. Not just reading body language, facial expressions, or countless other forms of silent communication he and Starsky developed over the years.

No, it was much more. He could sense Starsky’s heartbeat. It imprinted itself on him, struggling for dominance at first, pounding wildly with nervousness and anticipation, until it recognized the safety of the space that it chose to inhabit, settling down to a steady rhythm, signaling the beginning of their inseparable existence.

“How did we get here, Starsk?” Hutch repeated the mantra, unable to sense Starsky’s heart through the glass barrier of the hospital window.  “Only last night…”

Hutch could still see Starsky’s face flushed with need as Hutch trailed his fingers across his cheeks, his throat, and down his trembling body. He caressed every muscle, every patch of sensitive flesh beneath the coating of chest hair, and the subtle but distinctive curvature of his hips, which moved in rhythm with Hutch’s touch. The fingers guided him to the alluring treasure, which stood like a beacon awaiting the strokes that brought it to life, that brought it to its climax, coating the hand that was its master, its savior, with the elixir of life that would forever bond them together.

“You are amazing,” Starsky whispered, smiling. “You make me feel so alive. My heart is beating a mile a minute.”

“I’m the one who feels alive. I could do this all night with you.”

Starsky chuckled. “Give me a few minutes to catch up. We can’t all be superhuman.”

“Why don’t you stay over and I’ll show you all of my magic tricks?”  Hutch asked, hoping the perfect amount of desire came through in his pleading voice.

“I’ve stayed here the last three nights and I need to make sure my plants aren’t planning an uprising for lack of food and water,” Starsky said as he leaned into Hutch’s embrace. “But don’t worry, the station is being painted so tomorrow will be an easy day of fun. And we can continue the fun tomorrow night at my place.”

Starsky’s smile and promises made Hutch’s heart sing well into the next morning. He skipped his usual jog, hastily dressed, and shaved, eager to get to the station to see what kind of fun Starsky had in mind for the day.

In a last-minute decision, Hutch tucked the pocket watch that once belonged to his grandfather into the top of his white jacket. It reminded him of happy times as a child, boosting his mood even more.

Starsky was at the station when Hutch arrived, beaming as he handed Hutch a ping-pong paddle. “How about some song trivia and ping pong to get this fun day started, blondie?”

But it had not been a day of good fun, not by a long shot.

It was the day Starsky almost died after taking three bullets to the back.

It was the day Starsky flatlined.

It was the day that Hutch rushed through the hospital’s front entrance, and bounded up the stairs instead of the elevator, ignoring the jolt of pain as he clumsily banged his upper body into the wall before pushing through the swinging doors on Starsky’s floor.

He didn’t give the watch that was tucked into the top pocket of his jacket a second thought at the time. Now hours later, sitting outside of Starsky’s room, he looked down at the precious timepiece he held loosely in his palm. He unhooked the lid’s clasp, revealing the shattered face of the watch, frozen in time at 11:56 p.m.

Hutch had always taken such good care of his grandfather’s watch, making sure it was in perfect working order, polishing it regularly, and storing it for safekeeping when it was too risky to wear on the job. Today, on the worst day of his life, he broke it.

The muted watch with its fractured face glared back at him, and Hutch felt like his whole world was ending.

He rested his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. He thought about Starsky’s smile and those bright blue eyes that were full of promise and love. He then turned the pocket watch over in his hands, his mind turning to his grandfather and how much he meant to him as a child.

He closed his eyes to greet the darkness. Starsky was dying and his grandfather’s watch was broken.

An omen that time had run out.

“I’m sorry to you both,” Hutch said quietly. “So much for so-called Hutchinson superpowers.”

He shook his head and clutched the watch tighter, mentally traveling back to his childhood when he had all the time and hope in the world…

Chapter Two

“Do it again, Grandpa!”

Seven-year-old Ken Hutchinson grew increasingly excited at the thought of his grandfather having magical powers.  Grandpa Hutchinson had been dazzling his young grandson with card tricks for hours.

“Ok, one more time, Kenny,” Hutch’s grandfather said with a laugh. “Here, you shuffle the deck.”

Hutch loved the sound of his grandfather’s laugh. It was deep and heartfelt like he was laughing from down to his toes. With each chuckle, his blue eyes crinkled, and with every smile, they would sparkle and shine. Hutch took the deck of cards into his small hands and clumsily shuffled the cards, just as his grandfather taught him. He handed the deck back to his Grandpa.

“Ok, you can see the cards are in no particular order,” said Hutch’s Grandpa, fanning the cards out, facing them toward his grandson. “Do you agree?”

Hutch leaned forward in his chair, trying to see if the cards had a pattern, but had to admit they appeared to be in random order. “Yup, I agree.”

Grandpa Hutchinson nodded, then placed the deck on the table and said, “Go ahead and cut the deck, Kenny.”

Hutch carefully divided the deck in half and placed them in two even piles.

With his eyes closed, Grandpa placed his fingers on one pile and declared, “My super senses tell me that the fourth card on this pile will reveal to me the fourth card in the other pile.”

The older Hutchinson counted out four cards and peered at the fourth one, then returned them all to the pile. He raised his eyes, looked at his grandson, and said, “The fourth card in the other pile is the three of clubs.”

Hutch watched with excitement as his grandfather counted out four cards in the other pile and magically revealed the three of clubs. “How did you know that, Grandpa?”

Grandpa flexed his bicep. “I have superpowers, of course.” He chuckled and winked at Hutch’s mother who sat at the table drinking a cup of tea.

“Really? Can I have superpowers too?” Hutch asked.

“Of course, but there’s a catch,” Grandpa said, leaning forward as though he was about to reveal a secret.

“What’s that?” Hutch whispered in awe.

“You have to work hard in school, be kind to other people, listen to your teachers and your parents, and always try your best at whatever you do. Do you think you can do those things?”

Hutch nodded. “Do you mean like the things we do before Christmas so that Santa puts us on his nice list?”

“Yes, but this is all year round, not just at Christmas.”

“And then I’ll have superpowers?”

Grandpa smiled and ruffled his grandson’s hair. “You already have all the powers you need. From here on out, it’s just a matter of growing into them. ”

Hutch’s eyes brightened and he smiled from ear to ear. “Are there other people in the world with magical superpowers too?”

“I believe so. They’re rare though, so you’d be very lucky to meet someone else who has these powers, or who even believes in magic.”

“Does Dad have magical powers too?” he asked, looking at his mother and then back to his grandfather.

“Your father has all the same powers as I do. He just forgets sometimes because he’s so busy taking care of his family.”

“I think that’s enough magic talk for one night,” Mrs. Hutchinson interjected. “Time for bed, Ken.”

Hutch sprang up from his seat and ran to his room, hardly able to contain his enthusiasm.

*****

The young boy flopped down on his bed and stared dreamily at the ceiling. The thought of having superpowers when he was older danced through Hutch’s mind. He wanted to run as fast as the Flash, have super strength like the Hulk, or have healing powers like Wolverine.

Most of all, he decided he wanted to save the world like Superman. Just like Superman, Hutch didn’t want a lot of recognition or fame. He just wanted to help people.

Hutch reached across his bed and pulled out a pen and paper and wrote a title at the top.

Superpowers I need to Save the World. By Ken Hutchinson. Age 7.

“Superhuman strength of course. Stop bullets, fly, read minds, speed, shoot weapons, heal wounds, be invisible.”

Hutch tapped the pen to his nose as he thought, “What’s it called when you have a good memory? I’ll ask Grandpa later.  Save lives, heal people…”

Hutch stopped writing when he heard his mother’s footsteps outside his door.

“What are you working on dear?” Mrs. Hutchinson asked as she opened the bedroom door and peeked her head around the corner.

“Nothing, just some homework. Mom, what’s the word for someone who can speak every language on earth?”

“Um, omnilingual?” Mrs. Hutchinson said.

“How do you spell that?”

Hutch wrote each letter as his mother spelled out the word and smiled as omnilingual was added to the list.

“And what’s the word for someone who lives forever?”

“Well, if someone lives forever, they would have immortality,”

Does that have one ‘m’ or two?” Hutch asked.

“Two,” Mrs. Hutchinson said with a smile.

Hutch scribbled the word ‘Immortality’ down.

Mrs. Hutchinson smiled at her excited son, her face showing pride for his excitement to learn new things. “Time to put the comic books away and get ready for bed. Tomorrow is another day.”

Mrs. Hutchinson switched off the light and softly closed the door to her son’s room. When Hutch knew his mother was no longer in earshot, the young boy pulled out a flashlight and started reading his Superman comic book, thinking about what disguise he would wear one day to blend in with regular people, just like Clark Kent.

*****

Nine-year-old Hutch stood in the barn at his grandfather’s farm, his eyes riveted on his grandfather’s feet protruding from beneath the tractor.

“Wrench,” his grandfather called out.

Hutch rummaged through the toolbox and located the red-handled wrench. “Wrench,” he said, placing it in his grandfather’s hand.

As Hutch waited for his next instruction, he heard a faint chirping coming from outside the barn. He peered down at his grandfather, who was banging on an offending lug nut that had disabled a wheel on the aged machine. Hutch inched slowly towards the noise and found a baby bird that had fallen onto a wood pile, not able to move its wings.

Hutch reached down and carefully picked up the bird. “Hey, little guy.  Are you hurt?” He gently stroked its head and cupped it with both hands as he slowly walked back inside.

Grandpa Hutchinson was standing behind the tractor. “Where did you go, Kenny? I was looking for the screwdriver.”

“Sorry, Grandpa. I heard this baby bird crying. It’s hurt. It’s hardly moving. Can you fix it?”

Grandpa examined the bird, gently stroking its feathers. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry.”

“Why not? Don’t you have superpowers?”

“Super…powers? No, Kenny, I’m sorry.”  He knelt in front of the boy and stroked his hair. “The best we can do is take this bird to a vet that knows about these things. Would you like to do that?”

Hutch wrinkled his brow, his throat tightened as he struggled not to cry.  “Ok,” he whispered.

Grandpa picked up a small cardboard box and lined it with some clean rags. “Why don’t you put the bird into the box and meet me outside? I’ll bring the truck around.”

Hutch nodded his head and gently placed the bird on the softness of the rags, stroking its unmoving feathers. He held the box with both hands and followed his grandfather outside.

The next few hours felt like a million years to the heartbroken young Hutch. Grandpa pulled up the laneway of the farm and turned off the truck.

“The vet couldn’t save it,” Hutch said, an empty box of rags on his lap.

“No, it was too late when we got there. I’m sorry, but at least you tried,”  Grandpa said as he turned in his seat to face the teary-eyed boy.

Hutch looked up. “Grandpa, tell me the truth.  Do you really have any magical superpowers?”

Grandpa frowned and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Oh. Oh, Kenny. I didn’t think you would still remember that.”

“You couldn’t save the little bird so it must be true.”

“No, I couldn’t. There are some things we can’t control in life. We can just do our best, and maybe next time, we will be luckier. The important thing is that you tried to do what was right.”

“Yes, but…that’s not magic.”

“No, it’s not. It’s doing what you can with what you’re given. Believe me, when I told you that you have all the powers you need, I meant it. You may not have superpowers like they do in comic books, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything you put your mind to.”

Hutch felt his face fall, grappling with the hard truth of what he was being told. “I guess I knew it all along but didn’t want to believe it. I liked the thought of having magical powers, you know, being special. I wanted to save the world.”

“Kenny, you do have powers. They are your talents and skills and your big heart that make you who you are. Maybe you can’t save the whole world, but you can still do your part to change it. I believe that you’ll find a way to help make that happen.”

“Really?”

“Really. Do you trust me?”

Hutch nodded. “Of course. I’m not a little kid anymore. You can tell me the truth.”

Grandpa smiled and stood up, putting his hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “Come with me into the house. There is something I want to show you.”

Grandpa led Hutch into the house and opened the door to the small study at the end of the hall.  Hutch had always thought of the room as his grandfather’s secret sanctuary.

“I didn’t think I was allowed in this room,” Hutch said, looking around the study that contained stacked bookshelves along each wall, and a large wooden desk in the center of the room.

“That was when you were younger. It’s okay now that you’re older, as long as you ask permission,” Grandpa said. “There are lots of books here in my library that you are welcome to borrow at any time.”

Hutch ran his fingers along the books, overwhelmed by the smell of the leather bindings and the cool touch of the glossy jackets that covered the hard-copy novels. He stopped at the end of the bookshelves and saw a small wooden box. “What’s this, Grandpa?”

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” Grandpa said as he took the box off the shelf and placed it on the desk. He reached into the box and pulled out a gold pocket watch that was hanging from a gold chain.

“This was given to me years ago by your grandmother before she died.”

Hutch stared at the pocket watch that dangled through his grandfather’s fingers. “Wow. Does it work?”

“Yes, it does. I bring it out every once in a while to wind it up and make sure it’s ticking. Sometimes, if I’m feeling sad, I take it out to remind myself how much I loved your grandmother. She and I had a special connection, it was like I could read her mind, and she could read mine.”

“You did?” Hutch asked curiously. “You could read each other’s minds?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t because I had magical powers. It’s because I was lucky enough to find my special someone. That’s not magic, that’s just opening yourself up to love.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hutch said quietly.

“I want you to have it,” Grandpa said, handing the watch to his grandson. “Keep good care of it and whenever you look at it, remember your Grandpa telling you how special you are. Not because of how fast you run, or how well you swim, but because there is only one you. That Kenny, is the most important truth you need to believe.”

Hutch’s eyes widened at the shining gold watch, reverently taking it in his hands and stroking his thumb across the smooth surface.  It had a spring-hinged lid that closed over the watch dial, protecting the delicate face from dust and scratches.  He opened the clasp and the gleaming face seemed to smile back at him as the second hand circled steadily around the black hour markers.

“Thank you, Grandpa. I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

“Just remember how special you are,” Grandpa said with a smile. “You don’t need to be superhuman to prove it.”

*****

By the time Hutch was thirteen, comics were forgotten, replaced by classic novels and books from his grandfather’s library. Ernest Hemingway became Hutch’s favorite author, and he even started to enjoy Shakespeare. Fantasies of superpowers and magic faded from his mind.

Every night, Hutch would polish the pocket watch, make sure it was in good working order, and return it to its wooden box in his room for safekeeping. One evening while placing the box on his bookshelf, he caught sight of a piece of paper concealed behind the shelf’s back. To avoid ripping the paper, he reached behind and carefully pulled it out.

“Superpowers I need to Save the World,” Hutch said, reading the title on the paper in his seven-year-old handwriting. He chuckled to himself. “I had big dreams as a little kid.”

Hutch pulled out a clean sheet of paper. “On the other hand, maybe I was onto something back then. I just need to make this list more realistic. More achievable. Grandpa was right, changing the world has nothing to do with magic.”

“Superhuman strength…I can learn martial arts. Or boxing, or join the wrestling club,” Hutch mused.

He pored over the rest of the superpowers he once thought he would inherit and laughed to himself.

“Stop bullets. Ha. Not without a bulletproof vest. Speed… hmm, maybe I can take out the dune buggy on the farm. Or join the track team. Invisibility. I am getting pretty good with disguises, the drama teacher said I blend right in when I cover up my blond hair and wear the right costume. Omnilingualism… I don’t know about every language on Earth, but I am getting pretty good at Spanish. Accelerated Healing…that’s something I can work on with the right diet and knowledge of first aid.  Read minds…are psychics even real? Maybe there are other ways to read somebody’s mind than visiting a fortune teller at the circus.”

Hutch continued jotting down ideas. When he got to one of the last items, he stopped.

“Immortality. That’s one superpower that is just not possible.” Hutch stroked it off the list. “Everything and everyone dies someday and there is no getting around that.”

*****

Hutch studied hard in school and took part in every extracurricular activity his parents would allow. He learned to swim three levels above his age category and was good enough to play baseball, basketball, and ice hockey with boys a full year older than him. In his spare time, he took piano lessons and begged his parents to buy him a guitar until they finally gave in.

On his sixteenth birthday, Hutch got his driver’s license and Grandpa Hutchinson came over for dinner to celebrate.

“Can I take an evasive driving course?” Hutch asked his father. “I want to learn to drive as well as Steve McQueen.”

Hutch’s father put down his fork, a skeptical look on his face.

“Ken, don’t you think you are already busy enough? I wouldn’t want to see your grades drop because you’re overdoing it.”

Hutch looked up from his plate. “Don’t worry Dad, I’m getting straight A’s. The teacher says I’ll probably be valedictorian of my graduating class in a couple of years.”

Grandpa Hutchinson smiled at him. “I’m not surprised.”

“I’m not surprised either,” said Hutch’s father. “Your mother and I are very proud of you, but we were hoping by now you would be thinking more seriously about a career path. You could be a teacher, a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer…”

Hutch pushed his plate forward and sat up straight, glancing at his grandfather, and then back to his father.

“I already know what I want to do, Dad.”

“You do?  What’s that?” Hutch’s father asked.

Hutch cleared his throat. “I want to join the FBI.”

Hutch looked at Grandpa Hutchinson who shot him a wink and a smile. “It sounds like our man has figured out a plan to save the world.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Hutchinson said warmly. “Don’t you agree, dear?” she asked, looking at her husband.

Hutch’s father frowned. He picked up his napkin and wiped the sides of his mouth. “Are you sure about this, Ken? It sounds dangerous.”

Hutch locked eyes with his father. “I’m sure, Dad.”

His father’s face softened. “So, you want to be the next Elliot Ness is that it?”

“Technically, Elliot Ness didn’t work for the FBI, and I can’t promise I’ll bring someone down as big as Al Capone,”  Hutch said modestly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Grandpa. “All that matters is that you do what you can with what you’ve got.”

Hutch beamed as he saw his grandfather’s proud expression. “I know. Maybe I can’t save the whole world, but I can try to change my little part of it.”

*****

The day Grandpa Hutchinson died was the worst day of seventeen-year-old Hutch’s life.

Hutch was on the lifeguard chair, skillfully sweeping his eyes across the water and around the perimeter of the pool looking for danger. He followed sounds of laughter and shouts of children playing, attempting to distinguish between cries of joy and cries for help. He discovered that he loved the job. It required him to be focused, to move quickly, to be ready to save someone’s life at any time. Hutch became addicted to the rush of it. To the intense sense of accomplishment from helping someone. The thrill of saving a life.

His supervisor, a teenager only a year older than Hutch, stood at the bottom of the chair, calling up to the blond, “Hutchinson…your mother’s on the telephone. She said it was urgent. You can take it in the office. I’ll relieve you while you’re gone.”

“Thanks,” Hutch said as he climbed down the tall chair. “I’ll be right back.”

But Hutch didn’t make it back. He picked up the receiver and heard his mother’s strained voice with words that would never forget. “Your grandfather has passed away.”

“What?” Hutch asked, not believing the dreaded words he heard.

“I’m sorry, darling. He didn’t want you to know he was sick. He died peacefully in his favorite armchair. He was holding his wedding ring in one hand, and the picture of you as a baby in your father’s arms in the other. It was his favorite picture, he always said.”

In that moment, the world that held so much hope, that Hutch was determined to make better..to change…to save…turned dark and gray.

As the coffin was lowered into the plot next to Hutch’s grandmother, the young man stood tall, his eyes stoically dry. The sky was dismal and cloudy, befitting the mood. The rain held off, for now, the only positive thing about the day.

Hutch felt removed from reality, unable to believe that his beloved Grandpa could be lying beneath the heavy lid of the mahogany casket, while dirt was ceremoniously poured on top as the pastor said prayers amidst the sobbing of the assembled mourners.

He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and clasped his hand around the gold chain of his pocket watch. He tuned out the voice of the preacher, somehow finding the strength to stay on his feet.

Closing his eyes, Hutch made a silent promise. “I still want to save the world, Grandpa, and I want to do it for you.”

The clouds opened up and the rain began to fall, a chilling drizzle running down Hutch’s hair and face, mixing with the tears that started to stream down his cheeks. He squeezed his hand tighter around the precious timepiece in his pocket, shielding it with care from the rain with the warmth of his trembling hand.