Superhero Fiction: Gods of the American Wild

Andromeda nodded and followed Apache as they walked out of the hotel. Outside was another kind of bloodbath — fires burned in the streets, which were flooded with flares and teargas. An armada of riot-gear armed police were lined up in a choke point, shouting at protesters from a megaphone, “Disperse immediately!”

The crowd did not disperse. They were wrapped up in their own individual battles. As the crowd as a whole slowly fled the encroaching military line, they attacked one another. The riot had exceeded the levels either Apache or Andromeda had seen in their lives. Countless bodies laid lifeless in the wake of the fleeing mob and the stench of blood carried through the air to the point that Andromeda could feel its stickiness on her clothes, traveling like a twisted humidity. The sight overwhelmed her. She began hyperventilating.

Before Apache left the scene of the hotel, he looked up to the blown-out window of the top floor suite. There, he was able to make out Hemingway, standing at the window looking down calmly upon the scene, enjoying a glass of champagne. He saw Hemingway see him, but the council member made no move to address or pursue him. He merely smiled a self-satisfied and mocking smile.

Apache empathized with Andromeda as he led her back to the airstrip where they were supposed to get picked up. The sights of the horrors of war — he was both desensitized to them and haunted by them. Andromeda would now be haunted by the same nightmares that cursed him. From Apache’s perspective, just a kid.

When they reached the established rendezvous point, he let Andromeda sit down.

“Did we do the right thing?” she asked him.

Apache answered stoically. “Yes,” he said, trying not to pile onto the scars in her psyche.

“We… killed them,” she said. “All those people…”

Apache looked at her. She was spiraling. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me. We didn’t kill those people. We were trying to stop that. Don’t put that on yourself. Do you hear me?” he said.

Andromeda looked away and down.

“Do you hear me?” Apache repeated. “Look at me,” he demanded. “Do you understand?”

Andromeda nodded. “Yeah,” she said. She thought for a moment and then added, “But we couldn’t save them. We tried to be heroes… we couldn’t do it.”

Apache looked at her, trying desperately to not agree with her twisted attempts to justify blaming the situation on herself. “I saw you. You were a hero. We’re not going to let this happen again. Think about that. This is just a glimpse. Think about all the people who are going to be saved when we stop this from spreading and getting worse. Think about that. Don’t think about what you regret. Think about what you’re going to do next time,” he said.

Andromeda looked at him, scared. “Maybe heroes aren’t enough,” she said.

Apache looked back at her. He remembered what he’d seen her do in the hotel room. The Andromeda he shook Amanda loose from wasn’t the same as him and Rockwell and Wicken — she reminded him of Eastwood. A god, as unconcerned with the brutal stirrings of men and women as he was with the warring state of wild dogs. He looked at the scared Amanda with compassion and thought, but didn’t say, but do the gods care about us?

“What do you see when you use your power?” he asked her.

She looked at him and gave him a smile that pierced through her fear. In a way he was glad, but in another way, it disturbed him. “The universe,” she said. “It’s beautiful,” she added. “Not like… not like here.”

Apache nodded. He worried about her.

Chapter End

I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief look inside the critically acclaimed superhero fiction novel, Gods of the American Wild. If you enjoy superhero fiction, you should definitely pick up your copy today. Critics have widely praised the cast of characters and action scenes from this piece of superhero fiction. Many have said it’s like two books in one: the first half an introduction to this classic superhero fiction cast, and the second half being an action-packed superhero fiction thrillride.

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