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The Wonderboy Serials: Season Two
The Wonderboy Serials: Season Two
The Wonderboy Serials: Season Two
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The Wonderboy Serials: Season Two

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A lone man with extraordinary powers is responsible for the longest sustained global peace in modern history. Though worshiped for toppling brutal regimes, wiping out crime, and cleaning up financial institutions, dark realizations about Wonderboy threaten to unravel his hold on the public imagination.
A modern reinvention of the serialized dime store novel, the “Wonderboy” series examines the real-world implications of an all-powerful superhero from many perspectives such as a brilliant super villain wasting away in a maximum security prison and a feminist blogger determined to expose the truth about Wonderboy to an adoring public. Issue one introduces a world so dependent on Wonderboy that whispers of corruption and misogyny are silenced by forces bent on maintaining the pristine legacy of the world’s greatest protector.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 6, 2012
ISBN9781301821587
The Wonderboy Serials: Season Two
Author

Charles Martin

Charles Martin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. He and his wife, Christy, live in Jacksonville, Florida. Learn more at charlesmartinbooks.com; Instagram: @storiedcareer; Twitter: @storiedcareer; Facebook: @Author.Charles.Martin.

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    Book preview

    The Wonderboy Serials - Charles Martin

    Cover image and design by Brad Foster.

    Wonderboy

    In

    Homefront

    Issue VII of the Wonderboy Serials

    By Charles Martin

    &

    Will Weinke

    Eliza Knights

    From: Eliza Knights steamyknights28@hotmail.com

    To: Tim Berchum tim@imagemakerinc.com

    Subject: Exciting Opportunity for IMagemaker and Wonderboy!

    Imagine the power of love reviving the Wonderboy brand!

    I am here to tell you that Clint Sohl needs help. I have heard from my grandsons that he is not very popular with kids these days and I want to lend a hand in helping you help him!

    A little about me and why you want to invest in my project:

    I am a novelist. I know-can you believe it? Me neither, but here I am, pecking away at the keyboard all day while my lazy husband watches football. Did you know they have a channel that plays football all day long? Lord! What’s a woman to do?

    Now, you may not have heard of me, but you might have come across my novels if you frequent some of our local bookstores. I’m in four stores! It’s consignment, but still.

    You should know that I am an untapped and underappreciated talent. I have, over my three-book career, managed to figure out what the ladies like. They like ROMANCE!

    The question is, what do the young kids like?

    Well, I’ve been watching lots of young people television lately and it seems like they like three things:

    1. Those little games on the social networking sites, you know the ones.

    2. Tanning.

    3. (And this is where I come in) The Gays!

    As I understand it, Wonderboy is in a bit of a pickle with the homosexual rights groups. I don’t really know the details, but my grandson, Reginald, he’s not gay, mind you, he just is having a hard time finding the right woman, but he knows about these things and he said that Wonderboy did something or other to somebody that happened to be a gay, and now all the gay groups and their parades are all up in a foamy lather about Wonderboy. I’m sure you know the details better than I do. I’m not really one for research-I’ll leave that to you.

    So, that got me to thinking. Young people don’t like Wonderboy. Gay people don’t like Wonderboy. What could I, a humble and accomplished novelist from right here in Oklahoma City, do to help bridge this gap.

    Then it was like thunder striking me right in my noggin. Eureka!

    I could write a gay romance novel featuring Wonderboy! Show them that Wonderboy empathizes with their plight. I know, I know. Wonderboy isn’t gay, but it would be like those dashing actors pretending to be gay on the television shows because they know it rates so well.

    So, with your help, I propose that I write the book, then you research it and make sure my commas are in the right place, then you pay for the books to be printed and then I’ll just hustle my little fanny across this planet of ours, showing the young people and the gays that Wonderboy is really one of them (even though he’s not, really.)

    Now, the romantic attachment should be somebody of note. Maybe the president? Maybe somebody on that island everyone is chatting about on the news. Guam, I think? I don’t know. Having a war angle might bring in some regular people too. What do you think? If you have any ideas, let me know. I’m sure I’ll come up with something, I always do. You should hear my husband.

    Oh, you and your ideas. They’re going to get us all locked up. What’s a woman to do with a man like that?

    In closing, I am requesting a $40,000 advance so that I can begin work on Wonderboy And The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name! Pretty good, right?

    In exchange for your investment, I promise to write around 300 pages of the steamiest, gayest, and most important romance novel of our century. I imagine it will be done in about three weeks, but you know how these things go.

    Patiently awaiting your reply,

    Eliza Knights (my pen name, mind you)

    Wonderboy

    Don’t ask me where I am. This will make me think of my body and it hurts too much to think of my body. I live as many hours as possible in the minds of my clones. I wish I could just stay there, leave this withered husk behind and return to life. Return to Wonderboy.

    I am the strongest man in the history of the planet, perhaps the greatest living thing that has ever existed. If there is a God, then He would be the only one who might be my better. Perhaps I will meet Him soon and settle the question once and for all.

    I wonder what He thinks of me. I wonder if He shares my views of right and wrong. I hope that He does. I hope that He understands that the decisions that I made were in order to keep peace, to ensure prosperity and that what I did with those women, that they were all just pieces of a greater good. I am a powerful man, but there was only so much I could control. Decisions had to be made to fill in the gaps. History may not understand those decisions; but the world will, no doubt, benefit for generations to come.

    How much longer will I be around to help write that history?

    I retain hope that my body will be healed, that I will be able to return to my post to keep the world safe. People say that they were not free. They say that I was a dictator, but they’ve forgotten what the world was like before I existed. So much pain, so much violence. I freed the world from that-I gave humanity the freedom to forget what it was like before me. But, on Trejaño, they will remember. They will remember and appreciate me as I deserve to be appreciated.

    Wendy.

    I think of her quite often. It could have been so good between us, but she just wouldn’t submit to me. That husband of hers, that weak, pathetic, pretentious, little man. He couldn’t protect her. If she was mine, then no other man would dare look at her. She only chose him over me because she didn’t understand. I am certain that Wendy fought me because she thought she would be just a fling, but that wasn’t the case. If she just would have listened, then it would have been good. It would have been perfect.

    Please, Clint, focus. I need to know if you are lucid right now.

    Yes, yes, I am lucid. I am awake, or at least I think so. I believe that I am. It is so hard to tell the dreams from the reality anymore that I can’t say for certain.

    Do you know where you are?

    Above the Atlantic. Wait, no, that’s not right. We had to find somewhere else. I couldn’t stand the movement. We needed somewhere safe where I could focus on the clones, so that I could focus on getting better. My friend. I grew up with him, but he disappointed me over and over again. Ah, yes, Hugh Walker. I am at his house. Yes, that is what that smell is. The pot. I couldn’t ever convince him to stop.

    And why would you live in the house of a pot grower?

    Because nowhere else is safe.

    Correct, which is why we will do nothing to stop him.

    Right, that’s the deal. I remember talking to him about that.

    And who am I? Clint? Clint, do you remember?

    Yes – yes. You are Golf. You are one of my clones.

    Are you sure?

    Yes, I am certain. I can feel warmth, that wave of energy you’ve been sending into my body. It feels good, but then spikes with pain. It’s like a needle stabbed through my skin, through the muscles, and breaking through the bone to get at the cancer inside.

    So, you do remember? You remember why I am working?

    Yes, to save my life.

    I will need you to stop fighting me, then.

    I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to struggle. It is just so hard to know the dreams from the reality. I forget why you are hurting me.

    I am trying to help you.

    Yes, I remember that now.

    Golf, is Oscar really dead?

    Yes, Romeo killed him. Do you remember why? Clint, answer me. Do you remember why?

    Because he wanted to rape and kill a woman.

    That is correct, that is why you have decided to let Romeo live.

    Clint?

    Yes?

    You do remember that you are going to let him live?

    Yes, yes. I remember. Thank you for reminding me.

    Is he still heading this direction?

    Yes, he is. He wants to discuss something with me, something very important. I can’t remember what, something about Patient One. Something …

    Was it about Trejaño? Perhaps about Patient 43?

    Yes – no, not about Patient 43. It was about Trejaño, though. I just can’t – if you could just stop for a few minutes, then I could concentrate.

    I can’t and you know that.

    But, if …

    Why am I doing this Clint? Do you remember? Tell me why I am doing this.

    You are trying to save my life.

    That is correct. If you can’t remember what Romeo wants to talk to us about, then we will find out soon enough. Talk to me about something else. What can you remember?

    I remember Whiskey. He is in a lot of trouble. He is struggling.

    Why? Tell me more.

    He is so vulnerable. I should have never made him. In a way, I am glad that I did. I envy him. He is strong and handsome – for a human. He is no superhero, though. He is just gifted. That seems like a good thing to be, I think. There would be less pressure, less of the world’s weight on one person’s shoulders. I would like to be gifted, to be admired, but not to be counted on. But, that would be impossible. It would be a relief, but who would keep the world safe?

    I watch Whiskey quite a bit, you know? I feel like a father to him and want, more than anything else, for him to find his place in the world. He is just so terribly lonely and confused, but I am afraid that anything I do for him will only make matters worse.

    Can I tell you a story about him?

    Please. Just try to stay calm, okay?

    I will - I’m sorry that I am so difficult. I’m not used to relying on others.

    That’s okay, I understand. Please tell me your story.

    Okay. Give me a moment; it is so hard to concentrate anymore. Ah, okay, yes, now I remember. This was a few days ago, or maybe weeks, perhaps months. It was around the time Romeo left for Trejaño.

    Last week.

    Yes, yes, that sounds right. He was in a homeless shelter. Can you believe that? A homeless shelter. He doesn’t have a job and he refuses to ask Tim for help, so Whiskey decides the best thing to do is to be a bum. He has a lot of pride, you know? But no job experience, no skills. He knows what the air smells like in the upper atmosphere, he can tell you the Prime Minister of England’s favorite dinner conversation, he can even tell you what it feels like to whip along with the wind storms of Jupiter, but he couldn’t even construct a table from IKEA.

    If he was smart about his life, he would hit the talk show circuit, become a professional celebrity. But no, he never tells a soul who he is. He even goes by Walter now.

    I keep his hair at an appropriate length and ensure his beard doesn’t grow out. I tried to give him a few powers once, but he rejected them. That seems to be his only power, saying no to me.

    But at least I can keep him looking nice. When he goes to job interviews, if he ever goes to job interviews, then he will need to look responsible and competent. That is a parent’s role after all, to give children the best chance for success.

    So, he was at the homeless shelter in South Oklahoma City. They have a job center where a person can get placed doing menial or temporary labor, hopefully working themselves into a full time position. If Whiskey could get on with a construction team or maybe a shipping company where he could take advantage of his strength, then I think he could do well. Maybe even as a professional athlete, could you imagine? But, no, he doesn’t want anyone to even suspect that he came from me. He just simply looks a lot like me.

    So, as he is searching the postings for data entry and call center jobs, a mentally imbalanced old man begins yelling at the staff. He then pulls out a knife. Do you know what Whiskey does?

    Jump to the rescue?

    You are goddamn right he does. Can you believe it? Whiskey leaps on top of him and subdues him like its nothing, like he was still invincible. The guy never even had a chance to turn around to use the knife. The shelter was so impressed that they gave him a volunteer job on the night shift doing some filing or something, but mainly just keeping an eye on things to make sure everyone behaves. They say there is a chance of it turning into something good. I know the director certainly has her eyes on Whiskey, but who could blame her? He’s quite the ladykiller, a real chip off the old block.

    Literally.

    Ha, you’re right! So, that’s the story. I’m just so proud of him. I know the other clones are doing their own things and I’m proud of them too. But Whiskey - I don’t know, he’s just got such an uphill climb. I shouldn’t have ever made him, but don’t tell him I said that. It’s just, I feel bad, you know?

    I think so. What is he doing now?

    Oh, I don’t know. Sleeping? Nothing interesting. I wish he’d get a girlfriend so …

    Clint? Clint? I need you to keep talking to me and settle down.

    I know, I’m sorry, it just hurts so badly.

    I understand, but this is necessary and I am almost done, then you can relax again. Please keep talking.

    Okay, okay. Um – oh God – please, just give me a break for a second.

    Just a few more seconds, please.

    Hurry. I – oh, okay, yeah, that’s better. So keep talking, right? I guess I said all there is to say about Whiskey for now. I mean, it’d be nice if he’d start dating or something. I think he’d do well to marry some girl and settle down. Maybe once he gets a full time job, which may give him some self respect. Women love that sort of thing.

    Actually, do you know what I do want to talk about?

    What?

    Doom and Gloom. I want your opinion on them. I’ve begun thinking I made a mistake.

    How so?

    I saw that footage on television, the leaked footage from Trejaño. Do you know what I’m talking about?

    I really don’t have much time for television these days.

    Oh, well, I suppose that is true. I find watching television with Hugh is helpful. Between the pain and keeping track of the clones, I can get overwhelmed. That is why I like it here. Hugh likes to talk to me about politics and pop culture in a way that I haven’t ever thought of. I’m used to world leaders and the way they spin everything, but talking to Hugh, who is just an observer, it’s interesting. He’s really quite intelligent and, please do not tell the other clones, but the marijuana helps too.

    Your secret is safe with me. So, the video?

    Ah, yes, the video. Someone on Trejaño took it, but so far they don’t know who or how it got off the island. Whoever is holding the camera is looking up into the sky. There’s a big container, like the kind they load onto shipping vessels, and it’s being lowered down by a helicopter. The guy with the camera gets close enough to see the container clank down into a field. Two soldiers are lowered by ropes from the helicopter and they unlatch the front doors. They tug on their ropes and are raised back into the helicopter. The cable detaches so the helicopter can leave the container behind.

    The front doors swing wide open and two men run out quickly. Its Danny Doom and Reggie Gloom and they are running for the trees. That’s where the Center tells the inmates they can find food and weapons. It didn’t bother me at first. I understood why we sent them to Trejaño. But, then the camera focuses on Reggie’s face. I think he saw whoever was filming because he is looking right back at the camera. His eyes are just so sad and soft. I always forget how vulnerable he looks, not at all like a hardened criminal. He never did. He looks like someone to be protected, not someone society needs to be protected from. I think it was a mistake to send him to Trejaño. It was a mistake for Alpha to abduct them from the rally in the first place. It just makes us seem, I don’t know.

    Homophobic?

    No, not that.

    Abusive and cold?

    Yeah, I think so. You’re right. If the world understood what we were doing, if they could see it from my perspective, to know that sacrifices need to be made in case I …

    Clint? Clint.

    Yeah?

    I won’t let you die.

    Yeah, I know. But it would still be good if the world was a little more – seasoned, I guess. I sometimes think I should send Foxtrot onto Trejaño to bring Doom and Gloom back, but it was already a mistake to send Romeo to get the deaf girl and Numbers. I should have also objected to the Center recruiting Rodney Barker, but how could they know about his powers? He did such a good job keeping them concealed.

    Well, they know now. That stunt he pulled at the farmhouse was well documented. He took over a hundred rounds in the chest and kept walking forward.

    And is he still there?

    I’m not sure. I could check for you.

    Please. And Numbers? Is he still with Patient 43?

    Again, I’ve been very busy and haven’t been able to keep track of what’s happening on Trejaño. Let me finish what I’m doing now and then I will ask around.

    No, don’t worry about it. It’ll be faster if I use the clones to find out. I would like to know if they’ve heard anything from Doom and Gloom too. I should have handled that betterHe’s just so strong. Maybe I should send Alpha to Trejaño. Danny, I could care less if he died. Such an arrogant prick, but Reggie – I never wanted to hurt him. You know that right?

    Yes.

    He just shouldn’t have – he made me uneasy. It’s hard to describe, but the way he looked at me, it was – violating.

    I understand. Clint?

    Yes

    I need you to keep talking. What else do you remember?

    Okay, um – I remember Wendy Werthington. I saw her recently, did I tell you that?

    No.

    I saw her, I don’t know, a few nights ago, maybe. She called for me again. She wanted to talk. She looked better then I remembered. Strong, but not as rigid and hard as before. She’s aged, of course, but it’s agreed with her. She regretted what happened to Sierra, so we discussed it. I didn’t even need to pretend for her. She saw me like this, weak and sick. It didn’t bother her.

    She kissed me, Golf. It wasn’t much, but it was a kiss. It was better, somehow, just being a kiss. More intimate. Maybe I’m just getting old and sentimental.

    Clint?

    Yeah?

    You know that didn’t happen.

    What?

    With Wendy. That didn’t happen. You haven’t seen her since you’ve been sick. You haven’t seen her in person since the trial. None of the clones have even seen her since Sierra died. You know that.

    No, you’re wrong. She did. It was just a couple nights ago. She wanted to talk.

    I’m sorry, Clint, but you’re wrong. You had a dream. It wasn’t real.

    Are you sure?

    Yes, Clint, I’m sure. I’m sorry.

    No, it’s okay. I forget sometimes what is real and what isn’t. There’s so much pain, Golf. I’m scared.

    I know, Clint, but don’t worry. I won’t let you die.

    Chapter Two

    Who is that, who is there?

    It’s just me, Clint.

    Golf?

    No, it’s Hugh, your friend. I made you some of my special pudding. It’ll help.

    Oh, Hugh. We grew up together.

    Yes, we grew up together. I have some pudding for you to help with the pain.

    What kind of pudding?

    It tastes like butterscotch, but is my own recipe. It will help with the pain.

    I know that you are giving me THC from marijuana. I know you are not telling me because you’re trying to protect me. I appreciate you not telling me, but I know what you are doing and you don’t have to lie to me anymore.

    I’m sorry, Clint. It’s just hard for me to see you in this much pain. If you don’t want the pudding, you don’t have to have it.

    I would like some. It helps soften the hard edges, if you know what I mean.

    I do. And Clint, I need to tell you something. Do you remember the Oklahoma Tribune?

    The Oklahoma Tribune. The Oklahoma Tribune. I think so, right off North Walker?

    Yes, you used to call it your "home

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