30 years on...
Snow crunched under the wheels, as the lonely car struggled through the thick white blanket. Trees were all around, and, in the distance, Hogarth could just make out his home town, framed by the squat mountains. He turned to his wife, and smiled.
"We're nearly there honey," he said to her, as she huddled in the seat next to his, cocooned in a thick brown coat.
They continued on, the only sound being the low rumble of the engine, and the slight rustling of the trees, as they waved lazily in the chilly breeze.
After a few minutes silent driving, Hogarth recognized the Cosmic Burger shop, now broken and dishevelled, the stars hanging limply, the paint peeling and discoloured. He shook his head, sadly and they trundled on until they entered the town square. Hogarth stopped the car, and clambered out, gazing across the open plaza to where the church stood, its spire tall and imposing against the winter sky. Somewhere, in the open expanse of the graveyard, stood the graves of Dean McCoppin, and, placed later, would be Annie Hughes, and they would be lying side by side, that way forever, even though he longed to find them, that was not what he had come for.
Hogarth trudged through the snow, the white powder enveloping his boots with each stem so that every time his foot fell, he had to force it up and forward.
And then, finally, he reached what he come for. It loomed before, the statue of the Iron Giant, standing tall and proud. Hogarth found himself faintly amazed that it was still here, rather than ripped down and stolen, melted down to make money for some unscrupulous crook somewhere.
"Hello old friend," Hogarth said, as he stared up into the statue's eyes, "It's been a while."
He stepped up, onto the plinth, and placed his hand against the statue's knee, wincing slightly as the coldness of the metal bit into his palm. A memory flashed into his mind, one where the Iron Giant stood just as proudly, the makeshift S hanging crookedly on the robot's chest, as he boldly claimed he was Superman. Hogarth smiled sadly as tears pricked his eyes, and he bit his bottom lip, hard. He also remembered the one night, when the bolt had sped off into the night, and he remembered the surge of hope he felt that night, and he waited in boyish anticipation for the robot to return. But then days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and eventually, years passed. The spark of hope had died, and Hogarth learned to move on with his life, and now, he had come full circle, back to the place where it all began.
"Hogarth?"
He recognized his wife's, Sarah's, voice, and he turned, hurriedly wiping his eyes.
"Yes dear?"
"Can we move on? I'm freezing here," she said, wrapping her coat tightly about herself.
"Yes, um, yes of course," Hogarth replied distractedly, "J-just give me a minute."
Sarah picked her way through the snow, back toward the car, and Hogarth turned back to the statue.
"I don't have long now my friend," Hogarth said, his voice catching, "I guess this is my final goodbye..."
His voice tailed away, and he slowly rubbed the cold hard metal that made up Hogarth last reminder of his greatest friend.
Slowly, reluctantly, he turned away, and stepped down from the plinth, and into the snow. After a few paces, he stopped and turned.
"I had many heroes during my childhood, but only one has stuck in my mind. You, you will always be Superman, always be a superhero."