Beneath the looming shadow of Los Angeles, the resident Okies gathered in trepidation within their makeshift town of cardboard shacks and tin shanties that hovered precariously on the fringe of the great metropolis. 140 black clad LA Police officers ominously circled the Hooverville with bulldozers parked and rumbling menacingly behind them effectively putting the town under siege with the intent of expelling the migrants back into the wastes. The synchronized click of the officers’ rifles’ charging levers being released was soon followed by the chugging roar of the dozers.

Leading this strike force was Chief of Police James E. Davis, Mayor Frank L. Shaw’s harsh faced, grey eyed attack dog infamous for his savage brutality. Davis’ scandalous reputation for violence originated from his crackdown on crime a decade earlier with his formation of the “gun squad,” a group of police officers turned legal hitmen charged with murdering the criminal element throughout the city.

Davis had said, “Hold court on our enemies in the Los Angeles streets. I want them brought in dead, not alive and will reprimand any officer who shows the least mercy.” During that reign of terror, the streets of LA were littered with the bullet-riddled corpses of the criminal underworld, the sewage drains choked with blood and spent shells. Many claimed it was a front for the police to seize control of organized crime as well as a warning to those who would challenge the department’s authority. Few had the bravery to prove it let alone challenge it. Now it seemed a new nightmare cloaked in legality was about to unfold. For the Okies who cowered like lambs in the pen, Davis’ presence was a frightening sign of what awaited them.

Amid the coming massacre numerous reporters congregated at the scene, Jerry Ess among them. They surrounded Davis in a disordered rabble with their backs to the Okies, pads out and questions flowing in a babbling cacophony of high camp. It was a farce of a press conference with many local papers, squeezed by the Shaw political machine and invited for propaganda purposes, absurdly praising the chief for the atrocity that was about to commence. They read prepared questions, more rhetorical than inquisitive. Local reporters drolly lauded Davis’ fine record and Shaw’s determination to save Los Angeles from the Okie threat.

“How much courage does it take to shoot unarmed men?” Jerry trenchantly asked, unheard beneath the sycophantic tumult.

On the minds of many were how they were going to explain away, rather than explain the events of the day. Disgusted by what he heard from those around him, Jerry emphatically refused to be one of them.

“Chief Davis,” Jerry shouted over the others reporters, tired of the morbid burlesque. “What exactly is the real reason behind this assault?” The crowd of journalists fell silent surprised by Ess’ audacity.

Davis gave his full attention to Jerry, a wisp of a smile twisting his lip. “This is far from an assault, Mister…?”

“Ess, Jerry Ess, Daily Star.”

“Well, Mr. Ess, you see, these Okies are a destabilizing influence.”

Jerry cocked his head. “How so?”

“They are a drain on the city’s funds as well as a criminal threat. These shantytowns are a breeding ground for vice and illegal activities. The indigents have no money, no jobs, and only God knows their personal history.”

“And so, you consider them a threat? If being broke and unemployed made one a criminal suspect, then over a quarter of this country should be behind bars.” Ess’s derisive comment drew nervous snickers from his fellow reporters.

Davis feigned a grin while removing his cap to brush at his thinning hair before replying, “Without savings or employment, how are these people to support themselves save by preying on the great citizens of Los Angeles? What the LAPD is doing is a pre-emptive measure, a delousing of the city body. We’re solving the problem before it gets worse and sending these people back where they came from. We’re enforcing the will of the citizens of Los Angeles.”

“Enforcing your will with weapons. Sounds more criminal than lawful.”

“To you maybe,” Davis lightly rebutted. “But these are difficult times.”

“Chief Davis, isn’t this an obvious ploy by Shaw to divert attention away from his administration? Over the past several weeks’ revelations of what has been going on under Shaw’s crooked mayoral reign have emerged. Ties to criminal enterprises, kickbacks, embezzlement of city funds, murder.”

Davis bristled at the attack on his boss. “Now I think you’re overstating and verging on slander, Mr. Ess. Remember where you are.”

Ess would not be cowed by the implied threat. “I’ll ask you again. Isn’t this just another of Shaw’s petty attempts to preserve his political life, turning the Okies into scapegoats for the ills of Los Angeles when his own questionable practices have done far more harm to the city than these migrants ever could? In fact, it has only been in recent days that the mayor has stepped up his rhetoric against the Okie population ‘camping on the doorstep of the great city of Los Angeles.’ These migrants have been here for more than three years, abused for cheap labor and preyed on by the real criminal element that resides within city limits. Isn’t it rather convenient in the current political environment that suddenly the Okies have become a strain on the city of Los Angeles?”

Davis’ cool façade melted, his eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring. “I am beginning to dislike your accusations. This isn’t Cleveland where you can claim whatever you want to sell papers. You’re in my jurisdiction, so unless you have proof to the contrary, I suggest you stop flapping those gums of yours or I’ll have you arrested for public disturbance.”

Jerry lowered his notepad and met Davis’ threatening gaze. “Chief Davis, I have spoken with many Los Angelinos and they have a different opinion regarding the Okie problem. Face it, ever since the appearance of the Okie Angel, a change has come over the city. For the first time since you resumed the office of chief of police two years ago, crime has plummeted. People feel safe to walk the streets again despite your inept handling of the LAPD. Not to be insulting, but the Keystone Kops have a better record than the LAPD.”

Davis’ strained voice went from measured to authoritative, sharp and loud. “If you are defending the actions of this vigilante, then you are doing your readers a disservice. This Okie Angel has broken numerous laws throughout the city including attack on a police officer.”

“Wasn’t that police officer, Officer…uh…?” Jerry glimpsed down at his notepad, “Officer Richard Lester. Isn’t this Officer Lester accused of several felonies himself including racketeering and attempted murder of a fellow officer?”

“Charges are still pending,” Davis grumbled before being suddenly inundated by an onslaught of new questions by reporters who prodded him mercilessly for a response and further information on Lester’s case which had originally been considered forbidden until Jerry mentioned it.

“And he isn’t the only one facing charges in your department, is he?” Jerry shouted over the din.

“I am certain the LAPD will be vindicated in the end against these charges,” Davis countered while trying to quiet the crowd of journalists.

Jerry shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t share your optimism.”

“Is this an interview or an indictment?” Davis demanded, his fierce glare silencing those assembled.

“Chief Davis,” Jerry began again, “Despite your claims and those of the mayor’s office, I can’t comprehend the hostility towards the Okie Angel. In my opinion, he has been a far more positive influence on the city than the administration gives him credit for. In recent weeks, the citizens of LA have begun to pull together under his aegis. This man is an inspiration.”

“I suppose you have proof of this as well?”

“All you have to do is look around. Acts of charity and selflessness have increased. Hell, yesterday a man saved a boy from an oncoming trolley at great risk to his own life. And his is only one of many tales of heroic deeds I have discovered in recent days. Are you blind to the change that has overtaken this city? People aren’t just turning a blind eye to one another’s suffering anymore. They’re finally beginning to realize that they aren’t alone in these trying times. This Okie Angel serves as a sort of selfless model that others strive to meet, far from the criminal menace portrayed by Mayor Shaw.

“And despite your claims that the people of Los Angeles do not want the Okies here, many Los Angelinos have visited the scattered migrant camps ringing the city offering food and aid. They come to pay homage to this angel that arose from the ranks of the disenfranchised to repay a debt they believe they owe him. But what began as a thank you to the Okie Angel has become a transformative event. Something not you or Shaw and his cronies can stop. For the first time many Los Angelinos have finally seen the face of the Depression. Witnessing the plight of the Okies firsthand, they realize the suffering they had ignored on their borders and strive to help those in need. That is until Shaw forbid entrance into the camps. If you want this ‘problem’ on your borders to go away, then help them. Don’t drive them out into the desert.”

“You’re editorializing, Mr. Ess,” Davis huffed.

“These are the facts,” Ess replied, rapping his pad with his pencil. “But I can see you and your gun squad could care less.”

“That is enough-”

“Shaw intends to attack the Hoovervilles as a means of vengeance against the Okie Angel and the problems he has caused for the mayor. Further, Shaw also intends to use the coming assault on the Okies as a gambit to draw out his greatest foe. You cannot deny this. Last week, the mayor passed the ‘Anti-Okie Law’ which stated and I quote, ‘Every person, firm or corporation, or officer or agent thereof that brings or assists in bringing into the State any indigent person who is not a resident of the State, knowing him to be an indigent person, is guilty of a misdemeanor.’ Thereafter, he placed a cordon around every camp within LA County to prevent movement of people and supply. Many of the camps here are on the verge of riot, starved and angry. This Okie problem the mayor has been trumpeting for the past few days has been of his making.”

Davis was livid. “I am through with you. Sergeant Parsons.”

A police officer turned around. “Yes sir?”

“I want you to escort Mr. Ess and the rest of the press out of harm’s way.”

“Yes sir.”

“We have a right to report what is going on here,” Jerry protested along with his fellow journalists. “This isn’t Germany. You can’t use jackboot intimidation of the press. I have a responsibility to the public.”

“And I have a responsibility to guarantee the welfare and safety of the city of Los Angeles,” Davis ironically replied with a sneer before replacing his hat upon his head. “Sergeant.”

With rifle in hand, Sergeant Parsons ordered the herd of reporters back from the police cordon. Jerry grudgingly retreated.

Chief Davis stepped forward to confront the anxious Okies. “By executive order, all migrants lacking citizenship to the great city of Los Angeles are to gather their possessions to be escorted to the borders of Los Angeles County. If you should resist, the use of force can and will be used against you.”

“We just want food!” an anonymous Okie shouted from the crowd. Others crowed in agreement.

“You have no right to move us!” the migrants shouted.

Davis snorted in indignation. “I repeat you are to be escorted to the border of Los Angeles County. Begin gathering your possessions and prepare to disembark from the premises.”

“Or what? You gonna shoot us?”

Davis callously nodded. “I will use force if necessary, yes.”

“Give us food!” the Okies clamored.

Davis’ lips thinned to a slit. “I am not going to negotiate with you people. Grab your damn things and let’s get going.”

“We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

The Okies began throwing rocks and other debris at the police. The cops struggled to find cover from the assault.

“Fire a warning shot!” Davis ordered.

A dozen cops opened fire over the heads of the Okies causing a panic. Many migrants broke and ran for safety trampling any who fell beneath them. The police then advanced into the bedlam of the camp.

“Round them up!” Davis yelled. “Separate the men from the women and children. Anyone resists, shoot them. We aren’t taking prisoners today.”

Jerry shoved past Sergeant Parsons to confront Davis. “What the hell is wrong with you? Those are people.”

“Those are criminals,” Davis stated in condemnation, “and I’d suggest you back it up. Journalist or not, First Amendment rights don’t protect you from interfering in police business.”

“The hell with you.” Jerry went to defend the Okies.

“Arrest that man,” Davis commanded.

Two police officers seized Jerry and dragged him away from the slaughter in the camp despite his furious protestations.

Gunfire sparked and popped sporadically throughout the Hooverville kicking up dust. Children shrieked as they were ripped from the breasts of their mothers and corralled, many forced to watch their parents beaten to the ground. Several Okies went down in a hail of bullets, the cops stepping over the still twitching bodies to find their next victims. Bulldozers churned into the encampment crushing flimsy buildings beneath their treads producing screeches from those within who had sought cover in the now flattened corrugated shacks that leaked and spurted crimson. A great wail went up from the Okies. All was chaos.

Then the earth rumbled and a boom blasted from the east. The Okies’ savior descended from the sky into the melee like a lightning clap. Witnessing the carnage, Donner released a kinetic wave that toppled several dozers halting their drive into the camp. When a cop spun to shoot at Donner, Chris seized the barrel and yanked the weapon from the officer’s hands before cracking the cop across the jaw with the stock knocking the man unconscious.

“It’s him,” Jerry whispered in shocked reverence, the hands restraining him going slack.

“Well look who decided to show,” Davis muttered to himself. “Men, shoot that bastard!”

The police quit trying to round up the migrants and rushed together to form ranks. They turned their rifles on Chris and opened up in a flashing volley of semiautomatic fire. Donner psychically deflected the streaking bullets skyward as he charged into the cops’ ranks. He caught one man with a body blow doubling the cop over. Seizing the officer by the belt, Chris heaved him into a squad of his fellow police bowling them all over. When another squad tried to flank him, Chris spun and telekinetically lifted the four men into the air kicking and screaming. Dropping his guiding hand, the men were slammed lifeless into the ground.

“Take cover!” Chris ordered the Okies streaming past him.

“Keep firing, men,” Davis demanded. “I don’t care what you hit.”

A bulldozer surged toward Donner seeking to grind him beneath its treads. With the twist of his wrist, Chris seized the vehicle and sent it crazily tumbling end over end. Police ran to escape being crushed by the runaway behemoth that cut deep lacerations in the dirt as it cartwheeled through the camp.

With their numbers scattered and disoriented, Chris lunged into another knot of cops pummeling them to the ground. He uppercutted one man off his feet then delivered a hooking left to the ribs of the next in line. The cops attempted to pile on top of Donner using sheer numbers to overwhelm him. Beneath the crush of police, Chris unleashed a mini-explosion of kinetic energy that hurled men a hundred yards in every direction. Those able to stand retreated. Bodies were everywhere. Davis’ detachment dissolved all around him including the two men who had held Jerry, the pair releasing the reporter to run for their lives. Fast on their heels were local reporters.

Davis fumed. “Where are you going cowards? I will have your heads!” The police chief pulled his sidearm at the sound of footsteps. Turning, he confronted Donner. “You are under arrest. Surrender.”

With mercurial speed, Chris knocked the gun from Davis’ hand and clenched the chief by his lapels jerking the man face to face. “Under whose authority are you here?” Donner demanded.

“Drop dead,” Davis defiantly spat.

“Mayor Shaw is behind this,” Jerry revealed.

Chris turned to the reporter. “He ordered this?”

“You better believe it. The mayor has been starving the camps.”

Chris scowled at Davis. “I warned the authorities to stay out of these camps.”

“You have no authority-” Davis blustered.

“Don’t talk to me about authority,” Chris cut back. “Killing with license doesn’t make you any less of a murderer.”

“I stand by my actions and regret nothing.”

Dismayed by Davis’ lack of remorse, Chris pulled him closer to peer into his eyes. Staring deeply into the man’s soul, Davis flinched and then squirmed as Donner penetrated his mind and began to peel his memories apart one by one. Every evil act the man had done was uncovered, every former suffering dredged up. The ghosts of the past rose in legion to condemn him for the lives he had ruined, their sheer number evidence of the magnitude of his crimes. And then Chris opened Davis empathically to the anguish of the camp. A rush of misery and pain laced with sorrow lanced his heart. The stress soon weighed heavily upon his spirit as judgment was rendered for a life ill spent and he discovered the repercussions of his actions. “Do you see?” Chris asked. The agony caused Davis’ fragile mind to fracture beneath the strain and the police chief wept uncontrollably.

“No more,” Davis pled, his swollen face slick with tears.

Chris released Davis and the man collapsed to the dusty earth, curling up and whimpering. Justice served, Chris started back to aid the Okies. Not wishing to miss his chance, Jerry stepped over Davis and jogged after Donner. “Hey. Hey wait a minute.”

Chris stopped and gave the reporter a quizzical look. “What?”

Those alien eyes on him, Jerry couldn’t help but stammer. “Oh. Oh, excuse me, my manners. Jerry Ess, Daily Star.” He stuck out his hand only to gradually retract it when Chris continued to watch him nonplussed. “I’m sure you’re a busy man-”

“What do you want?” Donner bluntly asked.

“An interview.” Chris rolled his eyes and started toward the Okies again. Jerry tenaciously continued after him. “America is interested in who you are. The country has questions about the great Okie Angel. So how ‘bout it, ten minutes.” Chris didn’t bother to turn around. “Five?”

Donner waved him off. “I don’t have the time-”

“Please,” Jerry begged realizing his chance was slipping away. The plaintive, vulnerable tremor in the man’s voice lent it a sincerity that made Donner halt. “I have been searching for you for some time. You don’t understand your importance to me.”

Chris searched Jerry’s face before answering, “Alright. Tonight.”

“Great.” Chris turned and walked away. “Wait,” Jerry called after him. “Where?”

“Echo Park.”

“Yeah, but where? And when?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you,” Chris replied over his shoulder before disappearing into the Hooverville.

“Sure,” Jerry remarked to himself as Chris vanished from sight. “The scary part is I believe you.”

***

Mayor Frank Shaw surveyed Los Angeles from the towering heights of his office at City Hall. There, to the flickering east, Davis had failed him in the migrant camps. What an embarrassing farce that had been. The mayor frowned contemplating his momentary setback. In the end, it didn’t matter. In fact, it could prove to be a boon. Shaw would give a press conference tomorrow speaking directly to his constituents on the Okie Angel’s attack on the LAPD. He’d then have photos of injured cops printed in every major LA newspaper along with their accounts on what transpired including the Okie riot and the Angel’s assault that followed. Shaw had already demanded a warrant be drawn up for the vigilante’s arrest. The foolish bastard had finally played into his hands. Like everyone else who had crossed him, Frank was going to ruthlessly crush this man beneath his heel. With him out of the way, Frank could begin to clean up the mess the Okie Angel had caused. The migrants were safe for now, but once their protector was gone Shaw would send his forces in again.

As to the ongoing legal probe into his administration, Shaw had already tasked his brother with submitting a secret order throughout the LAPD to begin pressuring those in police custody to stop complying with Clinton or his investigation. The use of physical “persuasion” was authorized and should certain inmates disappear, all the better. Frank had also contacted Captain Earle Kynette, head of the Red Squad whose mission was to deal with “the enemies of Los Angeles.” Kynette was charged with assassinating Clinton’s leading investigator, Harry Raymond, and bringing an end to this anti-corruption crusade that threatened to hobble his office. Yes, in time Los Angeles would once more be secure in his iron grip.

Suddenly the plate glass window shattered and Shaw felt something seize him. He screamed and flailed as he was pulled outside into the night. Chris dragged the stocky old man high into the sky. Shaw kicked and yelped, clutching tightly to Donner as he found himself hovering high in the ether over the twinkling city landscape. Vertigo sent the world reeling.

“Why?” Chris demanded, his visage blazing fiercely.

Shaw had to avert his eyes from the fiery wrath that confronted him. “I…I don’t understand.” Chris threatened to release his grip on Frank. “No! Don’t let go!”

“You wanted my attention? You have it.”

Frank swallowed, the knot in his throat making it hard to speak let alone breathe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know.” Chris pulled the mayor up to face him. “I know everything.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Shaw asked timidly.

Donner’s ebon eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen the way you prey on these people. The corruption you bring to this city. Every criminal I have stopped, every vile act I have uncovered. It all comes back to you. Why? Why do you do these things? Why do you make these people suffer when they chose you to protect them?”

Shaw glimpsed down at the vague, distant metropolis sprawling beneath him. “I give them what they want and they give me what I want.”

“What do you give them?” Shaw continued to avert his eyes. “Look at me. Look at me!” The mayor meekly complied squinting to behold Donner’s lurid countenance. “What do you give them?”

“Their illusions,” Frank weakly offered. “People want a perfect world. There’s no such thing. Do you know how many of my predecessors tried to clean up this town? How many of them do you think succeeded? I’m a realist. Hate me if you want but don’t judge me. I’ve done my best for these people.”

“You use them.”

“People use one another all the time. That’s human nature. I’m just ahead of the curve.”

“I ought to let you fall.” Chris shook the man mercilessly.

“No, no!” Dangling over the cityscape, Shaw’s resolve buckled. “Okay. Okay! I’m corrupt. Is that what you want to hear? I’m a lying, self-concerned politician. But you’re just like me. Doing things to make you indispensable. Creating an image. Playing to the masses and making them think they need you when all they really need to do is take some responsibility in their pathetic lives. That’s why they need us. They’re too damned scared to do what needs to be done themselves.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“What? You think you’re better than me. Yeah, you save lives. So what? That doesn’t pay the bills or keep the lights on. I keep the trains running on time. You got it easy. All you do is clean up the mess. I have to keep this city going in spite of it. So I line my pockets. I earned it, battled my way up from the bottom. You’d do it too if you had the chance.”

“I’m not like you. You use people.”

“Serve as a public figure long enough and you’ll change your mind. Everything’s a commodity. That’s the first lesson in politics.”

“Not everything,” Chris icily responded.

“You keep thinking like that and the day you have to make a sacrifice you’ll fail. Someone always has to suffer. Why do you think I went after the Okies? My constituents need a face to put their problems to, something to rally around in hard times. I gave it to them.”

“And what about the Okies?”

Shaw snorted. “They don’t vote, so screw ‘em.”

“You are a perverted human being.”

The insult rankled Shaw. “So what, you going to drop me? Make me beg for my life? Forget it. You don’t have it in you. If you did you would have done it by now,” he chastised. “And what if you did drop me? Could you live with yourself if you did? And even if you could, then what? Do you really think things will get better? Let me tell you something. There isn’t anyone listening up there. The world is where it’s at because all we have is each other. There is no divine plan. It’s a flawed and savage world, but it still works because people like me force order on it. If not for someone like me, these people would eat each other. You can do your best to inspire them but sooner or later your best isn’t good enough and they’ll turn on you. You have to face the fact that these people are cattle.”

“And that’s why you indulge their vices? Gambling, murder, prostitution of girls as young as twelve!”

“I don’t create the market,” Shaw defensively retorted. “I cater to it. If not me, then someone else. You think those gambling dens and brothels were my creation? Blame Dragna and Roselli. They were around a long time before me. I just made things organized. Before me there were gangs fighting for these streets. Better armed, more ruthless, killing each other and anyone who got between them for a few measly blocks of territory. Paying off politicians, cops, and judges to escape prosecution and threatening to bring it all down in chaos. That’s why the people elected me. They needed someone like me. Someone willing to get their hands dirty. Justice failed. That was all it took for the citizens of Los Angeles to give me a mandate to do whatever it took. And you better believe I did. I beat the criminals at their own game. I became more ruthless. Wiped out the competition, brought it all under my aegis. I made this town mine. Nothing happens within this city without my say. Vice, gambling, robbery. Sure I didn’t stop it, but I controlled it. I’m the dam that prevents the flood. Criticize me all you want but at least these people can sleep at night.”

“That was all I needed to hear.”

The pair descended from the heights above City Hall, passing through the vaporous cloud cover as the city grew and took shape beneath them. Eventually the slender strip of Temple Street appeared with two squad cars parked on the curb. Once the two men touched down, a police officer stepped forward and seized Shaw by the arm.

“What is this?” Shaw demanded, his bombast returned. “Do you know who I am?”

County Supervisor John Anson Ford, investigator Harry Raymond, and anti-graft crusader Clifford Clinton exited the lead squad car. “Did he confess?” Ford asked.

“Yes he did,” Donner replied, glancing over at Frank. “He confessed to everything.”

Ford turned to the mayor. “Frank L. Shaw, you are under arrest for charges including graft, racketeering, and murder.”

Frank was incredulous. “On what evidence? My confession up there? I was under duress. Good luck making that stick.”

“We’ve got other witnesses,” Clinton countered.

“Who do you have that would smear my name? There isn’t anyone in this city with the guts.”

Ford glanced at the patrolman. “Show him.”

The patrolman escorted Shaw to the rear squad car and opened the door. Sitting cuffed in the back was Earle Kynette.

“Captain Kynette was discovered attempting to plant a bomb under investigator Raymond’s car,” Ford told the mayor.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Frank asserted.

“We also have John Roselli in custody back at the precinct ready to squeal about the ‘arrangement’ he and the mob has had with your administration.”

“How the hell did you get him?” Frank blurted.

Ford nodded in Chris’ direction.

“You can’t do this!” Shaw yelled as the police officer slapped the cuffs on the mayor and forced him into the lead squad car.

“You’ll appear before the Grand Jury?” Clinton asked Chris.

“Of course I will.”

Clinton smiled and shook Donner’s hand. “You’ve done a good thing here today. No matter what Shaw or anyone else would say to the contrary, you truly are a hero.”

“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.” Chris jumped into the air and flew off.

“Guy doesn’t stand still for a second,” Ford remarked to Clinton.

“Thank God for that.”

***

Jerry Ess wandered the serene gardens of Echo Park, a fortunate isle at the heart of Los Angeles’ malignant urban sprawl. The beauty of the park was soothing, the vibrant emeralds and earthy browns welcome departure from the washed out concrete and rusted steel of the effete city.

A cool breeze from the west carried the sweet smell of poppies and oak. Jerry paused to relish the scent, closing his eyes and letting unbidden images play out. He was a boy once more running along the banks of Lake Erie, laughing and hollering as he tried to keep up with friends beneath the azure sky of summer. Opening his eyes, he understood the allure of the park. This was a virginal, innocent space that had escaped civilization; a moment out of time. Echo Park was natural and it was that inherent nature, that virile sheen of simplicity that emanated from the bushes and the trees, which lent the grounds an aura of what Paradise could be: freedom from complexity. This was hallowed ground.

On the eastern side of Echo Lake, Jerry passed a boathouse before briefly stopping at the Lady of the Lake statue to gaze across the placid water toward the distant pink of the lotus beds on the far side. A thin mist clung to the lake curling in the evening breeze.

“Hello, Mr. Ess.”

Jerry spun around surprised by the voice. Chris Donner stood behind him glowing in the moonlight. “Geeze, who are you, the Shadow?”

“You said you wanted an interview.”

“Well yeah. It’s just, coming from Cleveland I tend to become startled when people sneak up on me.” Jerry gave Chris a once over, the awe of their initial encounter gone allowing his rational mind to make a proper judgment of the figure he’d been hunting. For the first time he saw beyond the shimmering aura and noticed the dusty blue jeans, muddied work boots, and worn cotton shirt that Chris wore. The Okie Angel resembled Okie far more than angel. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look much like a superhero.”

Chris grinned. “Let’s walk.”

The pair headed northwest along the lake taking in the sights of the park, Chris extending a hand so that his fingers brushed the limbs and bushes lining their path. They stopped at the lotus beds and listened to the mournful chirps of the crickets. From there they could see over the leafy forest canopy and glimpse the jagged skyline of Los Angeles dominated by the oppressive spire of City Hall, Shaw’s great mausoleum.

“It’s peaceful here.” Chris knelt down by the water. “I never knew a place could be so peaceful. I come here most nights for a brief respite.” A tenuous quiet followed as Chris dipped his fingers in the lake causing ripples that spread across the tranquil glassy surface of the water.

“I kinda feel like Moses,” Jerry sheepishly confessed.

Chris rose. “Excuse me?”

“Moses on the Mount, talking to God.”

Chris chuckled good-naturedly. “I’m not God.”

“You could’ve fooled me. Most Joes can’t fly if you catch my drift.” Jerry pulled a notepad from his jacket pocket. “You know the world has a lot of questions about you.”

“That’s why I agreed to this interview. People have a right to know.”

“Right. There are those who consider you a menace.”

“Judge me by my actions,” Chris offered matter-of-factly. “That’s all I ask.”

“Your actions are up for interpretation, like attacking police at the Okie camp.”

“I did not want violence.”

“Shaw would disagree. He calls you a vigilante.”

Chris crossed his arms. “He is mistaken.”

“Why, uh, why do you think certain people hate what you stand for?”

Donner thought that over. “Because they don’t understand what I’m trying to do,” he finally answered.

“Which is?”

“Help humanity.”

“So in other words you’re here to save us from ourselves.”

“No. Only you can save yourselves. I’m just trying to set an example.”

“You’re kind of a hard act to follow,” Jerry remarked, scribbling away. “And not to be a pessimist but have you seen the state of the world? Do you really think we’re worth saving?”

Chris didn’t hesitate to answer, “Life is always worth saving.”

“No matter what?” Jerry prodded.

“No matter what.”

Jerry halted his jotting to look up at Chris. “Who are you? Really.”

“I’m just a man thrust into extraordinary circumstances.”

“So you haven’t always been like this?”

“No.”

“What was it that changed you? Little green men? Magic crystal?” When Jerry noticed the quizzical expression Chris made he quickly added, “These are some of the theories going around. I don’t mean any disrespect.”

Chris cast his eyes to the heavens. “I remember a star falling from the sky, a bright light that lit the night. It…called to me. The sweetest voice I ever heard. I was drawn to that bright light, enveloped by it. Something in that light…changed me.” His attention returned to Jerry. “I don’t know why I was chosen for this fate, whether it was God or some other force that found me worthy and sought me out. Maybe it was just plain dumb luck that I was there that night. But this power is a responsibility and I refuse to squander it.”

“With your great power why don’t you lead us? I’ve seen what you can do-”

“I don’t want power. And I am no leader.”

Jerry cocked his head in cynical scrutiny. “What is your name? You must have one.”

“My name’s not important.”

“You don’t want fame?”

Chris shook his head. “I don’t seek it.”

Jerry scratched his head with the end of his pencil. “What’s your angle? Why are you doing all this?”

Chris paused, focusing on Jerry. “Because no one else can.”

“That’s not much to go on. And besides, no one is asking you to save them.”

“You’re wrong. Listen. What do you hear?”

“Nothing,” Jerry replied, puzzled by the request.

Chris looked to the city lit on the horizon. “I hear everyone, every voice, their prayers, their pleas. They call to me.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to listen before opening them again. “I’m meant to hear them.”

“Why?”

“So I can answer them. You would ask me why I help. I ask you why not? If you could hear and see what I do, you could not say no. I used to believe I was alone. But then I heard them, each voice as sad and lonely as mine lost in the darkness. Reaching for something invisible and failing to find one another. These are hard times and only together are we going to see them through. I do what I can and though I know it is not enough, I try. I try to save all those I can. That is enough.”

“You mean that.”

Chris turned to Jerry. “Of course I do. I’ve known despair. I have so many reasons to hate the world but that leads nowhere. Helping these people I’ve discovered hope.”

“That’s something you’re inspiring a lot of these days. I’ve spoken to everyone from Oklahoma to California. I haven’t seen optimism like this in years.” Standing there next to the source of so many stories, Jerry did not see some larger than life demigod. He saw a nondescript, simple man. That this figure could have accomplished so much, inspired so many people…“It must get lonely.”

“No,” Chris said with a shrug. “I’m not alone. I’m never alone.

“You ask who I am. I am one of you. Someone tired of the way things are and finally doing something to change it. I’ve seen the worst man is capable of. Now I am seeking the best.

“I was chosen for some reason. Maybe it is for a chance at redemption. For you, for me. If there is one thing this power has taught me, it’s humility. It’s allowed me to step back and see things for the first time. The connections. We’re all part of something more. We’ve drifted apart but the distance isn’t so far. All we have to do is reach for one another.

“And what I have accomplished…I’ve seen the light of life grow, scattered and fading souls coming together. Where once there was only darkness now there is light. Great light, so brilliant it is blinding. Knowing I’ve had a hand in fostering that…It’s enough. It’s more than enough.”

Chris silently stepped away, so quiet his withdrawal that Jerry almost did not notice. “Wait.” Donner halted, his back to Jerry. “Thank you,” Ess said in heartfelt gratitude. Chris glanced over his shoulder with the slightest curl of a smile before he lifted off into the night sky from whence he came.

***

In the days that followed, Ess’s interview with the Okie Angel spread rapidly across the globe via wireless, radio broadcast, and print. Donner’s message was translated into dozens of languages and read by millions throughout the world. Record breaking demand forced periodicals around the planet to increase publication runs to meet the public’s interest. It wasn’t long before others hurried to cash in on the craze. The BBC would broadcast a special program recounting the various printed tales of Donner’s trek from Kansas to California while National Allied Publishing rushed out a series of comic books illustrating Donner’s feats, these comics finding quick popularity and soon becoming a monthly publication all its own.

From the swastika adorned Reich Chancellery to the coffered Imperial halls of the Japanese Tenno, humanity discovered the words of a hopeful savior and ascribed their beliefs on this strange, amorphous celestial being. To Hitler, Donner was proof of the Übermensch whose superior will could bend reality whereas to Einstein he was the next evolution of man, a being whose humanity had transcended technology. Heidegger realized in Chris the personification of Dasein while the Comintern hailed him as a champion of the proletariat. Buddhists recognized him as an arhat and the Vatican sought to proclaim him a living saint. Donner became a symbol, embraced by the many cultures of the world. He was their torch in the long night.

At 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Ess’s article had drawn an important leader’s attention. In the Oval Office, Franklin Delano Roosevelt laid down his copy of The Daily Star. He steepled his hands, thinking over what he had read. Perhaps it was time to pay a visit to Los Angeles.

Next Chapter: Chapter 22