Night Flyer Page 5

  Now, while all heads were bowed, and the holy priest uttered the prayer to invoke the Spirit of Christ to turn the bread and wine to the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ, no one else saw the man with angry, flashing eyes rise, pull a gun from his shoulder holster, furtively point it at the priest on the platform—and fire.

  The fire that entered Deuce’s chest felt like a bomb bursting inside him, and just before he passed out, he looked up for one moment at the man standing to his feet and pointing a mean-looking .44 Magnum at him.

  *

  Gabe Wesley, who had slipped in just before the service began, was sitting over in a corner on the back pew of the chapel. When the blast rang out he jumped up, and amid shouts, screams, cries, and a river of tears, he ran down to the where Deuce was, knocking people aside, and roughly breaking into the circle around him.

  “Is there a doctor in the house?” Gabe shouted.

  Just then a man pushed his way through the crowd with a shout to someone with him to get his doctor’s bag from his car. He began pulling at Deuce’s clothes, checking his vital signs, and then administering CPR.

  “Is he going to make it, Doc?” Gabe asked.

  “He needs more help than I can give him here. It looks like the bullet bounced off his ribs, and lodged in his side. He’s got a chance if we can get help to him quick. Has anyone called 911?”

  Gabe quickly pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed 911. “Man shot down at Sacred Heart Catholic Church. We need the police and an ambulance—now!”

  “We have someone on their way, sir.”

  Gabe slammed the phone shut, dropped it in his pocket, and got up looking around for the man with the gun. Just then he saw someone hurrying toward the door. Someone he knew.

  “Hey, Mad Dog!” Gabe shouted.

  The man stopped and looked around. When he saw Gabe the blood drained from his face. “Get away from me,” Mad Dog said when he saw Gabe approach him.

  “Didn’t I tell you if you if you ever showed your face in this town again you’d be busted?”

  “For this? I was just an innocent bystander.”

  Gabe threw Mad Dog’s jacket open, and roughly pulled the .44 Magnum from out of his side holster. “Do you usually bring your weapons to church with you, Mad Dog?”

  “Force of habit.”

  “Yeah, well you won’t mind if I keep this one, and hold you in custody until the police get here.”

  Just then Mad Dog made a surprise grab at the gun, quickly wrenched it out of Gabe’s hand and pointed it at him. “You’re not holding me anywhere, you bastard.”

  By that time a crowd had formed. Gabe wasn’t afraid of bullets himself, but a flying bullet could hurt someone else. Then he heard the sirens sounding in the distance. “You hear that, Mad Dog? It’s the police.”

  “I’m leaving here, and you’re not stopping me,” Mad Dog said as he kept inching toward the door.

  “No, Mad Dog, you’ve got a date with a judge, jury, and a prison cell.”

  “Like hell!” he shouted as the sirens got closer.

  Suddenly he lifted the gun higher. “Back away, or you’ll get it.”

  Gabe saw the gun wavering in Mad Dog’s hands, and knew he might hit an innocent bystander, so he ripped his shirt open, summoning a wild, twisting wind that surrounded Gabe, infusing him with a superhuman power. By the time it died down, the man standing before them was different somehow. He was bigger, tougher, harder, and massive enough that the shirt with Night Flyer written across it strained against his frame.

  They looked around. “Where did the other young man go?”

  “Are you kidding? He probably got blown away by all that wind.”

  Just then Mad Dog began shooting, but when the bullets that normally bounced off the Night Flyer’s chest brought a sharp pain, and blood, it stopped him momentarily, and he looked down. When he saw the bullet holes it surprised him, but it didn’t stop him, and he chased Bull Dog until he had him in custody. “Who sent you, Mad Dog? Was it the Cheese Man?”

  “I shot your ass. Why ain’t you dead?”

  When Gabe grabbed his hands to cuff them, Mad Dog made a quick, twisting movement and yelled, “Oh, no you don’t!” Finding himself loose again, he turned quickly and began to run, but was stopped in mid-stride when a sizzling bolt of electricity hit him in the back. “Owww!” he shouted, and was knocked to his knees.

  “Don’t worry,” Gabe said when he went to pick him up, “it’s equal to a shot from a Taser gun.”

  “But that came from your fingers.” Looking at Gabe, he said, “Who the hell are you, some kind of friggin’ alien?”

  “Let’s just say you don’t want to fool with me, Mad Dog. Not unless you want to change your address to a hole six feet under.”

  Then the police burst in, and assessed the situation. “Who’ve you got this time, Night Flyer?”

  “Guys, let me introduce you to Tony “Mad Dog” Montana. The scourge of upper Manhattan, better known as Gangland.” He indicated to the ME team to follow him to the victim who was spread out on one of the pews by now with the doctor still working over him.

  “How is he, Doc?”

  “He’s fine, but how are you? I heard gunshots.”

  “Oh, it was nothing. Somebody got a little gun happy, that’s all.”

  “Where’s the guy who was here before?”

  “He wanted me to thank you, but he had to leave.”

  “I see,” the doc said. “I know who you are. You’re the Night Flyer.”

  Gabe looked around. “Don’t say it too loud. I don’t want to start a riot.”

  “Are you kidding?” the doc said, nodding toward his chest. “With that written on your shirt they already know. Say, are those scorch marks? Looks like they could be bullet burns. There’s even a little blood. Hey, you need that taken care of. I would advise you getting yourself to the nearest emergency room.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Tough skin.”

  “Not tough enough. You get to a hospital, quick.”

  Gabe gave a wink, and said, “Whatever you say, Doc.”

  * * * *

  Later that day, the doctor who was applying medicine and bandages to Gabe’s wounds also gave him a few words of sage advice. “Gabe, why in hell did you think this was going to last forever?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I just assumed.”

  “Well, you were wrong.”

  “But what about Superman? He never changed.”

  The doctor snickered. “He was a friggin’ alien, Gabe. He came from another planet. You, my boy, are an earthling, and what happened to you was never meant to last forever. Hell, it can’t. The body regenerates itself every seven to ten years. Now, you won’t lose your powers all at once, it’ll happen as your body goes through its changes. Where the hell do you think we get evolution? Change, Gabe, change. Nothing stays the same. Even the earth is changing constantly. Since you’ve already noticed that your skin isn’t as tough as it once was, you’d better wear a bulletproof vest from now on, at least when you go out and play with the bad boys.”

  “But in my case it ought to be different.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, dammit, I didn’t ask for this, and it seems to me that what God gives to you He shouldn’t take away, should He? Wouldn’t that make Him an Indian Giver?”

  “You’re comparing God to an old childhood adage that probably started in some schoolyard in the dark ages. God is above that, Gabe. If He takes something away it’s because that’s what’s best for you.”

  “Then why give it to me in the first place? I may not know why He gave it to me, but I know why He took it away. It’s revenge for what I did. He took it away because I…” His words faded when he thought of Deuce Gannon, and the fact that they’d slept together. “Because I…”

  “What? What did you do?”

  “I sinned…and it was bad. That’s why he took it away.”


  “For one thing, God doesn’t take things away from us because we sin. If he did we wouldn’t have anything. Man sins every day.”

  “What the hell does He want?” Gabe continued as if he hadn’t heard the doctor. “I asked for forgiveness. I even went to confession, and got absolution.”

  “Gabe, not even God would turn off your body so it wouldn’t regenerate. If He did you would die.”

  “But He could’ve done something. I mean, He’s God, after all.”

  “I think you’re being unfair with Him, Gabe. Don’t let something this unimportant cause you to lose your faith.”

  Gabe sat quietly for a moment, thinking. Finally, he muttered softly, “I’m a damned idiot. You’re probably right.”

  “I know I’m right. And you’re not an idiot. After all, how can you be expected to know this medical stuff?”

  “But it’s so…I mean, it just makes sense. I should have known.”

  “Do you have a degree in medicine?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Dermatology?”

  “No.”

  “And I don’t know a friggin’ thing about superheroes.”

  “You knew about Superman,” Gabe said, pouting like a child.

  “Hell, the whole world knows about Superman.” The doc looked at Gabe’s unhappy face, and continued. “You’re not a superhero, Gabe. That was a child’s fantasy. You’re just a freak of nature that will right itself in time. From now on when you need to know something go to the experts.”

  “The Internet’s a good source…isn’t it?” Gabe asked.

  “Yes it is, but you researched only one part of it. The part that you thought applied to you. You didn’t stick around for the unhappy ending.”

  “Okay,” Gabe said, standing to go. “You know you can’t tell anyone about this. Since I know what’s coming I can make it so the Night Flyer slowly fades out of sight.”

  “Yes, but keep your body in shape. You don’t have to be a superhero to be able to protect yourself and those you love. Don’t live your life afraid, Gabe. Stand up to those who threaten you. You’d be surprised how many will back away from a brave man.”

  Gabe smiled. “I needed to hear that, doc. Thanks. And I will.”

  “Sometimes when something disappoints us we seem to naturally fall into depression. Don’t let that happen to you, Gabe. You have just as much worth to you now as you did as a so-called superhero. And by the way, what’s said in this room stays in this room.”

  Gabe put his hand out in friendship. “Thanks, Doc. Do I need to come back in for you to change my bandages, or can I do that myself?”

  “There’s nothing to it. Since they’re superficial wounds, get stocked up on clean bandages, and be sure to get that prescription filled to ward off any infection, and you’ll be fine.”

  “But what if an infection sets in?”

  “It won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’ve got one hell of a doctor.”

  Gabe chuckled. “You may be a conceited ass, but you are good.”

  * * * *

  Just when Gabe thought he’d never see Deuce again, he got the surprise of his life when one night he opened his door and saw Deuce standing there. He turned away quickly, a flood of anger filling him. “Where’s your collar, Father?”

  “You have a right to be angry, Gabe, but I…hell, I knew if I told you I’d never see you again.” He hesitated. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue the day of the shooting.”

  “I didn’t do anything. The doc, he’s the one you need to thank.”

  “I didn’t even know you were there until I found out from all the talk about what happened.”

  “I kind of stayed out of sight. I guess I wanted to see you in action.”

  “See me in action?”

  Gabe whirled around, his gaze piercing as he looked at Deuce. “I couldn’t believe you were actually a priest. When I tried to imagine the man in my apartment that night conducting a service in a priest’s garb…hell, I just couldn’t seem to wrap my mind around it.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  “God, the things we did. You don’t know what kind of hell I went through until I finally went to confession.”

  Deuce was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I guess now it’s time for my confession.”

  “What do you mean?” Gabe asked.

  “By rights I ought to be dead two times over. When all this started I lost control of my car and ran it into the East River. I should have died, but when I woke up I found myself in a church, of all places. Sacred Heart.”

  Gabe’s eyes widened in surprise. “That was you?” he murmured, the words almost inaudible.

  Deuce looked up at him. “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Oh, uh, nothing. Go on.”

  “Well, with a combination of fear, alcohol, and pure stupidity in my system I had a weird dream and thought I had been called to the ministry. I went through the motions with a wonderful man by the name of Father Joseph Rawlins to guide me, and entered into the church. I don’t know, maybe I was just thankful to be alive. This other world I had entered into seemed like a godsend. It seemed like just the answer I needed, so I dedicated myself to learning all this man could teach me. But, I don’t know, when he died it seemed like the desire to be a priest died with him. I didn’t realize until then that he was the glue that held me together, and the reason why I wanted to be a part of this world is because he was a part of it. He was my world. I’ve never in my life felt about another human being the way I felt about him. He wasn’t only a mentor, and a guide, he was a friend. He was the father I never had.” Deuce began pacing and nervously wringing his hands.

  “After that I just seemed to crumble. I almost hated everything about the church. Oh, I don’t mean what it stood for, I mean the dark wood, the burgundy cloth on the pews. Even the smell of candle wax as I walked through the shadowy chapel.” He hesitated and took a big breath. “Now I want out, and don’t know how to get out. I mean, it’s not like a regular job where you go in to your boss’s office and say, ‘I quit.’ And I’m too embarrassed to go to anyone and tell them that the calling I thought I received was really the booze talking. My only salvation was being able to get out at night, and walking the streets.” He looked over at Gabe, and his voice took on a soft, intimate sound. “That’s when I met a man with the words Night Flyer written across his shirt. I tried to forget him, but I couldn’t.”

  *

  There was a heavy silence between them while they stood looking at each other. And then suddenly they were in each other’s arms kissing like two long lost lovers. Deuce gasped when he felt Gabe slam him against the closed bedroom door.

  “You know this is a bad idea, don’t you?” Deuce said as soon as he could pull away.

  “Maybe, but it’ll take more fuckin’ grit than I’ve got to stop now,” Gabe answered with his twisted logic.

  Deuce was about to make another reasonable argument when Gabe pushed the door behind him open and pushed him into the bedroom. “Oh, God,” Deuce murmured beneath his lips when he felt Gabe’s muscled body hard against his own. His back was being pushed hard against the door, and he was being kissed over and over again. Kissed, and kissed, and kissed again until he managed to get out the words, “I’m just saying I don’t want you to be sorry later.”

  Gabe uttered nothing but moans while he kissed Deuce harder and breathed harder and held him tighter. “Gabe, do you hear what I’m saying?” When he didn’t answer Deuce knew he should make him stop, but ignored the feeling because he was feeling too damned good for it to matter. And then when he felt Gabe reach down into his jeans and feel around for his cock, his cock jerked in anticipation of being touched and rubbed on until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Tell me you want it, baby,” Gabe whispered in his ear as he continued to push him against the door and sink h
is hand down between Deuce’s legs. Each movement made the door bang against the wall, so Gabe grabbed him up off his feet and laid him down on the bed. While pulling at his clothes, he said, “Say you want it, Deuce. Say you want my cock inside you.”

  “Hell yeah, I want it, Gabe. I want to ride you raw, and so hard that you’ll feel like it’s going to break. I want to be thrown up against a wall and to feel you sweating all over me. I want to take it in the ass and beg you not to stop because you’d be hitting all the spots that can’t be reached any other way. I want your fuckin’ tongue shoved so far into my mouth that I can feel it down to my toes. I want to swallow you whole and hear you scream for me and God at the same time. I want all that, but at the same time I don’t want it because it’s wrong.” Suddenly he began to shout out a prayer. “F-forgive me, Father, for…” When he heard his own words being shouted out to God for forgiveness for what he knew he was about to do, he said, “I…can’t. I…oh, God, do it to me, Gabe. Ple—”

  Suddenly he felt Gabe’s lips on his, and every time he tried to catch enough breath to say what he should have said before, Gabe would kiss his mouth until he could hardly breathe. God, Gabe felt good, he was smelling good, and he could feel his hard body as he pressed against him.

  “Please, what, baby? Tell me!”

  “Please fuck me!” Deuce yelled.

  As soon as he had yelled it out, he could feel Gabe’s hard, magnificent dick throbbing between his parted thighs, begging to go just a little bit further. It was all his, if he dared to claim it. His dick! His! All his! Long enough, wide enough, and just the right amount of rough. Too close to pass it up. Again. Who the hell was he kidding? He was a priest. A fuckin’ priest with a parish. He was like some pothead who was suddenly consumed with a fiend’s case of the munchies for forbidden dick. Or a crackhead who just couldn’t resist one more hit of that sweet, smooth, slick pipe that had his jaws tight and his mouth literally aching to taste it.