'He's so small'
The thought lingered in Garfield's brain, drifting gently back and forth through his consciousness like a leaf caught in an autumn breeze.
'He's so small and so beautiful.'
Swaddled in a yellow blanket, the babe lay, weightlessly in his arms, sleeping soundly against his chest, the picture of absolute serenity. His son. His precious son.
'So beautiful.'
And he was beautiful. His nose and lips were perfectly proportioned; his ears were small and rounded, and his chubby, little cheeks were wonderfully kissable. His skin was soft, soft as the blanket in which he slept; a beautiful shade of pale green that made Garfield think of spring; made him imagine a long stemmed flower, fresh and new, rising up from the warm nurturing soil.
Raising a hand, he gently ran the backs of his knuckles across the babes forehead, and brushed the tiny sprouts of violet hair on the top of his head with his fingertips. He smiled and felt his heart race. It was times like these he swore, feeling this good...there had to be something illegal about it.
His son.
'My son.'
Never taking his eyes away, he looked upon the babe in his arms and dreamed.
...
The crowd was restless. Their collective voices were a dull murmur, a spattering of syllables and consonants that stretched from one side of the stadium to the next. The seconds felt like days as each one of the thousands in attendance shuffled in place, looked to the stage, checked their phones, did anything and everything possible to take control of time and force it forward. Looking into each set of young, anxious eyes, it was clear they all possessed the same thought:
'Oh I can't wait any longer. I'm too excited. It's not fair that you'd keep us all waiting like this. Please, oh please, if you have any mercy, please start the show!'
Suddenly the lights went dim. New life surged through the crowd, and the dull murmur swiftly exploded into a flurry of shouts and high pitched squeals. The droning roar of a Epiphone G-400 Electric guitar running through a Marshall JCM800 2205 amplifier washed over the stadium, riling the crowd up further, sending them into an overexcited frenzy. In a matter of seconds the stadium floor had been transformed into an ocean of humanity, ebbing and flowing to the whim of the gravitational force of the stage.
"Ladies and gentleman," said a scratchy voiced man over the stadium's PA system. "Make some noise for Dylan Logan and The Dudes."
The screams became deafening. The ocean swelled, pushing against the stage as the curtains were swiftly pulled back by unseen hands. All at once the stadium was filled to overflowing with sound; roaring amplifiers, bone rattling bass and drums; the kind of sound that aroused the soul and sent the blood surging. There was a rippling of flashes as cameras all across the stadium did their best to capture the moment.
And then, from stage right, he came, the man everyone was there to see. Bursting with energy he took center stage. His hair was long and black with splashes of violet at the tips of his bangs. His physique was lean and muscled. The colors he wore were dark and simple: a plain black collared short-sleeve shirt (half buttoned), snug navy blue jeans and a pair of brown soft leather boots.
Standing at the front of the stage, he flashed the crowd a wide toothy grin, planted his feet and shoved his hands hard into the air, forming an X shape with his body. The crowd's reaction was immediate. Responding to his every move, they worked themselves to a fever pitch, cheering and clapping, taking pictures. The man laughed and raised a microphone to his lips.
"How're you all doing tonight?" he said.
The crowd shrieked and a wave of humanity seemed to rock the very stage itself.
Not taking the microphone away the man smiled again. Clenching his fist he raised his chin and faced the sky. And from out between his lips came the sound of angles.
...
Garfield's brow arced softly as the baby boy in his arms began to stir; making little whining sounds, the babe's face scrunched in discomfort and his little arms forced themselves against the thin confines of the blanket. Slight concern spread across Garfield's face as he gently rocked and cuddled the distressed newborn.
"Shhh, shhh it's okay, pal," he whispered sweetly. "It's okay. I got you. I got you."
With the utmost love and affection he held his son close to him, cradling the babe the way he would the most delicate thing in existence, the way he would a prized and irreplaceable work of art. "It's okay," he said again. Slowly but surely the babe began to settle until, once again, the room was quiet and the only sound was that of the soft hushing of baby Dylan's breathing.
...
Furrowing his brow he gazed into the ocular piece of the microscope, chewing his bottom lip. He turned. His fingers found their way to the keyboard and began swiftly clacking away, dancing over the keys with rapid and expert precision. Eyes darting back and forth he studiously examined the data as it flashed before him. It was staggering how fast his mind was able to process the various calculations and processes; it almost didn't seem possible, and yet there it was. He activated the electronic view screen and suddenly the image from the microscope was before him.
The lab fell completely silent as he entered the final command into the computer and hit enter. There was complete silence, not even the sound of breathing, only the soft hum of the processors as they set about their task. A few feet away, his colleagues stood and waited, watching the screen with the utmost assiduity. Seconds passed. The waiting was almost unbearable, but no one dared make a sound; they only watched. Watched. And waited.
The shrill beep came suddenly, and almost as soon as it did, the computer screen was illuminated by a bright and flashing message. "Vaccination Successful" it proudly stated to the now wide eyed collective. At first there was nothing, only stunned silence, and then the room simply erupted. Loud cheers, mixed with applause rocked the small laboratory.
"He did it. He did it," said one man, his voice almost dreamlike in its disbelief.
"Remarkable," added another before breaking out into joyous laughter. "Simply remarkable."
Back at the computer, the head of the research team breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk. Interlocking his fingers on the top of his head he smiled as a feeling of deep satisfaction ran through his body. A young African American woman suddenly joined him at his right, her face awash with excitement.
"You did it," she said grabbing his shoulder. After taking one last confirming look at the screen she turned to him and said, "Do you have any idea what this means?"
"I think I have an idea," he said with a knowing smile.
The woman turned back to the screen. Tears shone in her eyes as a soft smile spread across her lips. "A cure," she said after a moment. "At long last. A cure."
...
Feeling a small twinge of pain devolping in his back, Garfield, still mindful of the sleeping babe in his arms, carefully set about readjusting himself. The chair creaked as he carefully slid back and re-sat himself on the cushion, this time in a more up-straight position. Once comfortable he turned and gazed out the window. There was faint light; the sun was just starting to rise. It was quiet and everything was still.
A gentle sigh made its way over his lips. If it wasn't for becoming a father, he thought, he may never have realized just how beautiful the early morning was.
Again he looked down at his son as he slept. Holding him close, he observed the child's tiny hand sticking unceremoniously outside the blanket. Gently he took it in his thumb and index finger. He smiled as on reflex the young Logan gently began squeezing the finger with no seeming desire to ever let go.
"Strong little guy," he whispered with a small smirk.
...
The television went black as the previous commercial faded out. There was silence and then suddenly the screen was filled with screaming people. Thousands of them, all holding up brightly colored signs, rooting for their favorites, they leapt to their feet as the camera swept across the arena. The adrenaline, the excitement, it emanated so clearly from their bodies that one could almost see it.
"Welcome everyone to Monday Night Warzone," came a voice rich in southern twang. "We are live from Jump City U.S.A. We've got a lot of action headed your way and we are ready to kick things off."
Suddenly the arena shook as a blast of gut wrenching rock came erupting out of the house speakers. From the floor to the rafters there arose a chorus of cheers, the sound of every man, woman, and child jumping up and roaring their approval. Eyes fell to the elaborate entry way at the corner of the arena, the massive metallic ramp and jumbo screen. There was a brief flurry of light and sound, an overwhelming fireworks display, as a booming voice proudly announced, "The following contest is scheduled for one fall."
Then they saw him. From out of the curtains, he came. Raising his hands above his head, pointing to the crowd he made his way down the aisle. His green muscles were slick with perspiration and his face a mask of confidence. He made the women swoon and the men roar. Like starving wolves they fed on his every action as he made his way to the ring.
"I tell you, they love him here in Jump City," said the twangy voiced commentator.
"They love him everywhere, JR." said a second voice with mild bemusement.
"Well, you're right about that, King. I gotta tell you though, he has got his hands full tonight."
"That's right. Michael Zodiac has been waiting for this match for weeks, and he's finally going to get it. I just hope that Logan is ready for him."
The crowd roared again, watching excitedly as he climbed to the middle turnbuckle and raised a single fist above his head. They echoed the move and in a single powerful voice began chanting his name.
"LO-GAN, LO-GAN, LO-GAN."
Smiling confidently he jumped down to the mat. At the opposite corner, his opponent for the evening, a tatooed behemoth with jet black hair, shouted something unheard by the audience; he then cracked his knuckles and flexed his powerful arms. The crowd booed in response and Logan simply smirked. The ref called both men to the center of the ring, gave some unheard instructions and then signaled for the bell.
"Here we go!"
...
A gentle sigh filled Garfield's ears. Across the room, his wife stirred, rolled over in her sleep and made a soft cooing sound. Eyes still shut, she faced him, and all at once the feeling of warmth, the same warmth he always felt when he looked upon her, rose up in his belly. He looked to the sleeping babe in his arms one last time and then carefully climbed to his feet. Walking the short distance to the crib in the corner of the room he gently lay the newborn down, blanket and all, and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
...
The keys jingled against the lock. Even from outside he could already hear them (they must have heard him pulling into the driveway) as he inserted his house key and let himself in. Opening the door, he was greeted by the sporadic thumping of little feet- it made him think of tiny thunder -as they made their way down the stairs and burst into the kitchen.
"Dad," said a fresh faced young boy with light brown hair and pale skin.
"Daddy," echoed his slightly younger, more rosy cheeked sister.
"There they are," he said. He smiled and got down into a crouch, opening his arms wide and inviting both children into a warm embrace. They threw their little arms around his neck and he held them close, gently rubbing their backs. "How was school?"
"Good." Their answer came in unison and in the same fashion, slight exaggeration on the O sound that almost stretched it out into a two syllable word.
From the other end of the kitchen entered his wife, a lovely young woman with short brown hair and soft hazel eyes. Seeing her he smiled and pulled his children in for another hug.
"Good," he answered them. He stood and said, "Well, why don't you guys go get your shoes on. We're having dinner at Granma and Grandpa's house tonight."
"We know," said the boy. "Mom told us already," added the girl. Both smiled and then quickly turned and hurried away, their tiny thunder working its way down the hall and back upstairs.
After watching them go, he stood and started to undo his tie. Casually his wife made her way over to him.
"Hey," she said.
"Hi," he answered.
They shared a short but powerful kiss. Grabbing his wrists, she tuned and wrapped herself in his arms, sighing as he began leaving a trail of tiny kisses down her neck.
"Are you ready to go to Grandma and Grandpa's?" he said playfully.
She sighed and said, "Yeah."
Sensing the apprehension in her voice, he looked at her. "Oh come now," he said smirking. "All these years and two children... you can't still be dreading having to spend time with my parents."
"No, no...not dreading. I love your parents, but I guess it's hard to not still be kind of intimidated by them, them being former superheroes and everything. That and your mother, God bless her, is still nearly impossible to read."
He laughed and held her close. "Don't worry about it," he said. "If my word is worth anything-"
"And it isn't."
He laughed again. "Well if it was, I'd say, you can believe me when I tell you that they absolutely adore you. And I'm sure of that cause if they didn't Mom would have already teleported you into another dimension by now... just like poor Carol."
The woman in his arms looked at him. "That's not funny," she said.
"Yes it is," he said. They laughed and shared one more kiss before the thunder from upstairs returned.
...
"What are you doing?"
The question was tired and scratchy. It drifted through the bedroom into his ears and stayed there for a moment until finally he turned and found Raven eyeing him sleepily from bed.
"Nothing," said Garfield. He momentarily turned his attention back to Dylan's slumbering form and then added, "Just thinking about the future."
Letting his hand linger on the crib for a moment he turned and slowly made his way back to bed. Crawling past his wife he once again laid himself down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist and smiling as the sleepy eyed woman took his hand in hers and held it to her chest, placing it over her heart. Breathing in her scent he let out a contented sigh and slowly drifted back to sleep.