The Dark Knight (Apocalypse Weird 2) by Nick Cole Page A

imaginary rocket-powered grappling hook.
    A van with only one headlight came speeding out of the night
as Cory ran across the street.  Its engine rattled loudly as it swerved, barley
missing Cory, then sped off down the street, turning right into the parking lot
of the distant pharmacy.  Cory landed on the far sidewalk with a small hop.  He
turned and walked down the hill, through the dark, toward the shopping center.
    Now he saw the big freeway curving away to the south beyond
the fenced parking lot of the shopping center.  All the cars on the freeway
were stopped.  Some still had lights on.  Only a few.  All of them were frozen
and unmoving.  No horns.  No idling or revving engines for that matter.  Just a
long deep silence that made Cory feel uncomfortable as he watched all those
unmoving cars facing south.
    Sometimes when Cory had gone to this shopping center with
his Daddy on a “hike”, as Daddy called it, he’d been fascinated by all the cars
speeding off toward the south along the freeway.  Cory would obsess at the
sight of them and he would need to stand and watch, mouth open, making the same
sounds they sometimes made as they changed lanes and sped ahead of some other
slower southbound driver.
    “Vrroooom!”
    “Nunuunuuuuu!”
    “Rowwwwr!”
    Now nothing moved down there along the freeway.  Hundreds of
frozen cars stretched off into the distance.  Headlights glared at stalled
cars.  Red taillights stared listlessly at more cars.  To Cory, they were like
the eyes of many dead demons or the bats that sometimes flew out of Batman’s
cave.  The long lines of unmoving cars wound their way south or, “thatway,” as
Cory liked to think of that particular direction.  The northbound lanes that
led off to the more populated areas of Orange County and on into the very dense
urban zones of Los Angeles were completely empty.
    By the time Cory made the entrance to the DrugCo parking
lot, he could hear the sound of the rattling bus that had nearly run him down
trying to start.  Trying to, and failing.  As Cory walked forward into the
parking lot, he started to imitate the sound of the small coughing Volkswagen
bus parked in front of the pharmacy.
    “Whhrrrr...whrrr... whrrr...” he said as he approached.
    A large man leaped out of the driver’s seat holding a
massive lug wrench.  He squared off against Cory and raised it back over his
wide shoulders.
    “Stay back, man!” he shouted.
    Cory stopped moving forward.
    “Whrrr... whrrr... whrrr,” he continued.
    The man looked at Cory, noting the Batman costume.
    “You’re not one of ‘em are you?”
    Cory stopped making the sound of the Volkswagen bus starter
that wouldn’t start.
    He stared at the immense man.  He was young, bristly beard,
shorts and flip flops.  A tank top and a button down Hawaiian shirt.
    “I’m Batman,” whispered Cory.
    The man shook his head, lowered the large wrench as he
completely forgot about Cory, and turned back to the van.
    “It’s not working, Bob,” came a woman’s voice from within
the darkened vehicle.
    “We just gave it to her.  Give it a few minutes, Tab.”
    Cory looked inside the van.  A young woman, blond, tan,
tired eyes, held a small tow-headed girl on her lap.  The girl was breathing
heavily, gasping for air.  They were sitting on the back bench of the bus. 
Another little girl, blond and only slightly older than the little girl on the
blond woman’s lap, stroked the arm of her gasping younger sister.
    Bob the big man had opened the rear engine compartment to
the old van and began to bang around inside, muttering to himself as he did so.
    The girl continued to gasp.  Dark circles ringed her wide
brown eyes.  Eyes now watching Cory.
    Cory began to mimic the sounds of the gasping girl. 
Softly.  Watching the little girl.  Breathing with the little girl, who slowly,
breath by breath, began to breathe normally again.
    The tired blond woman smiled, murmuring.  Then she looked up
at